#some form of substance abuse is really obvious with them

[kala22]

Here’s a thought. You know how people love those characters who have trauma or are in some way broken, for example dean Winchester, klaus Hargreaves, stiles stillinski, I love them too. But these are the types of characters people say you won’t love in real life. Tell me why literally every person I’ve ever drawn into my life has been a version of them.

#klaus hargreeves #broken hero trope #character tropes #tv #stiles stilinski #time for my rant. #every body I’ve ever had an attachment to has been a version of this broken character #they all have similar childhoods #some form of substance abuse is really obvious with them #a boy I really really fell for was a walking version of klaus hargreeves #why am I always ending up with these people? my friend told me it’s because I can fix them #I don’t want to fix them at all #I’m not a person who try’s to fix anything #which is probably not a good thing either but I have this mentality where things just are what they are and there’s nothing I can do #it is what it is #if the world wants it that way then there’s nothing I can do about it #idk maybe I’m attracting them because it’s some form of entertainment to help me escape from my own shit but #idk #there has to be some reason for it #and I kinda only brought it up because i seen this pattern whenever I became friends with two people who I thought had no connection #they turned out to be both the same person and also be very close with eachother #and it was a complete mind fuck when we all realised we knew eachother

[weyrwolfen]

Eidola: Chapter 21 - CT-8821 Reaver

Rating: T

Characters: Gen, Clone Trooper OCs, Captain Rex, Ahsoka Tano, and other canon members of the 501st/332nd and the Bad Batch

Warnings: canon-typical violence; references to self-harm, injuries, and substance abuse; PTSD; it’s post-Order 66 and nobody is having a good time (but they’re all working on it)

Summary: The mission was never to bring down the Empire. Not really. The mission was to save every single one of their chipped brothers. But if doing do helped break the Empire’s stranglehold on the galaxy? Well, that was just a bonus.

“I will admit, the upcoming, earlier-than-expected visit from the Imperial tax assessor has put us in a bit of a bind,” Governor Shalk said, reaching for one of the datapads on her surprisingly utilitarian desk. “Of course, we here on Wadj are proud to support the Empire, but we have so few goods we can export to Core worlds to generate additional income, and fewer highly-connected allies to help us find markets for those goods we do have to offer.”

Major Ullmann reached across the desk and accepted the datapad, turning it around to scan through the proffered file.

Reaver was standing at attention, just to the left of the door of the governor’s office. The Coruscant Guardsman, Ori, was opposite him, posture propaganda-holo perfect on the door’s right side.

They weren’t exactly a matched set though. Ori had handed Reaver an orange command pauldron, when they’d all been suiting up for this escort mission. Reaver wasn’t sure what to make of that: if their recently arrived brothers were honestly trying to loop him in on their non-standard command structure or if it was just a sop to his ego. He might still be the top-ranking clone in the 241st, but he clearly wasn’t the one calling the shots around the base anymore.

Neither was Major Ullmann, but that had been true since they’d arrived on Wadj, right after the war had ended. That was a separate issue to mull over in the middle of the night, when Reaver’s insomnia got the better of him.

“Might I take this ‘pad to review these files in detail?” the Major asked, all diplomatic etiquette and careful obfuscation, promising nothing.

Governor Shalk waved one hand with casual grace. A single ring caught the light at that gesture, one small stone set in a plain band, resting on the finger several natborn cultures reserved for signs of marital status. Reaver had been in this room dozens of times before, guarding meetings just like this one, but he hadn’t really noticed any of the fine details of the place or the people involved. It was vaguely horrifying, just how bad he’d been at everything, under the chip’s control.

“Of course, in the event this little endeavor bears fruit, I would be happy to negotiate some form of remuneration for your efforts,” the Governor was saying with a small smile.

A bribe. She was offering the Major an under-the-table cut of the profits.

Reaver’s memory might be spotty and incomplete, but after reviewing what recollections he did retain before this mission, it was obvious that the Governor had been making every effort to ingratiate herself with Major Ullmann, from the moment they’d all been stationed on Wadj.

The funny thing was, Reaver didn’t think less of her for it. It was obvious that she was doing everything in her very limited power to protect her planet’s citizens. If that meant sucking up to the Empire’s military commanders on-planet, or greasing a palm or two to keep everyone happy, then so be it. Her actions on other fronts were far more telling.

The local economy ran as much on barter as it did credits, but what little revenue did come in from the taxes on off-planet trade was cycled back into public works and social safety nets, not into lining Governor Shalk’s pockets. Not unless she was hiding her tracks better than any of them realized.

Given the aggressive plainness of the governor’s office and attire, Reaver kind of doubted it.

Wadj wasn’t exactly a prime posting for any ambitious Imperial officer. It was too small, too out-of-the-way, and too strategically unimportant to rate much scrutiny from the Empire. As long as the planet paid its taxes and kept its head down, the chances the local politicians would be replaced with Imperial cronies were low. And the higher-ups on Wadj had been scrupulously toeing the line to keep things that way. On flimsi, the planet was populated by loyal, if poor, Imperial citizens.

The planet also appeared to be the perfect place to send a trio of disgraced Imperial Army officers to languish in obscurity, under the guard of their chipped clone troopers. Finding those reports on his personal terminal had been sobering. Reaver had immediately sent them all to the Major, who had read them over with something resembling dark amusement before forwarding them to a few key brothers among their rescuers.

At least CT-8821’s chip-addled incompetence had extended to the reports he’d filed behind his own officers’ backs. They hadn’t contained anything too incriminating. Lists of comm contacts, details of the Major’s bank records, his daily schedule. Invasive? Yes. Horribly so. But not incriminating.

Ori was confident he could mimic Reaver’s, CT-8821’s, wording well enough to take over sending safely innocuous, false reports, occasionally seeded with useful misinformation. The Corrie had offered to run all of the falsified documents past Reaver and the Major both. Reaver wasn’t having any better luck interpreting that offer than he was the orange pauldron on his shoulder.

The Governor leaned back in her chair and adjusted the drape of her robe, seemingly appeased. The garment was made of a well-crafted, but unpretentious, blue fabric with only a little embroidery around the seams to add visual interest. Not austere, but also not extravagant, at least by Outer Rim reckoning.

“Now,” she said, clearly changing the subject. “Is there anything I should be aware of, regarding security operations in system?”

From his current position, guarding the door, Reaver couldn’t see the Major’s face, but he had worked with the man long enough to easily read his body language. If they’d been playing sabacc, Reaver would be on his guard, given the way Major Ullmann had just shifted in his seat, shoulders angled casually out of perfectly square.

“There has been a minor uptick in pirate activity in a few of the neighboring systems,” the Major said, sounding professional, if largely unconcerned. That statement, at least, was true. “You may notice some heightened activity, around our base. We have been instructed to take certain steps, to increase our operational readiness in the event we need to repel similar raids in system.” And there was the lie, Reaver knew that they’d received no such orders. The Empire, like the Republic before it, cared very little for the safety and security of Outer Rim planets. “We have been increasing patrols, both on the ground and in orbit, but I assure you, these actions are precautionary only.”

That was a neat and tidy way to explain away anything odd the locals had almost certainly noticed around their base, not the mention the increase in fuel the base was requisitioning from the capital’s small spaceport.

Reaver’s lips twitched upwards into a lopsided smile, which he only allowed because it was well-hidden under his bucket.

The Guardsman, Ori, might as well have been carved from stone, visor facing perfectly ahead, seemingly focused on a blank patch of wall some indefinable distance above the Governor’s head. He might have been rolling his eyes behind his visor, but honestly, Reaver doubted it. Ori had struck Reaver as a consummate professional, even though this meeting had to be painfully quaint to a brother who’d spent most of his deployment on Coruscant serving the Senate.

Major Ullmann and Governor Shalk continued to chat for another twenty minutes, discussing minutiae that Reaver would remember this time, even though he didn’t find much of it interesting. Regulation of fishing quotas, hiring additional locals to fill empty staff positions in the Imperial registrar and judicial offices, unusual storm activity off the main continent’s southern coast.

When they left, picking up Jade and Facet along the way, they were stopped at the door by one of the Governor’s aides, who presented the Major with a wooden box of ‘export samples.’ Another bribe, no doubt. Major Ullmann clearly found the whole thing highly distasteful, but he hid it well with a polite thank you and a vague gesture to the four clones flanking him.

Jade accepted the small crate, and Reaver saw Ori discretely palm out a hand scanner and give the box a quick once over. Reaver trusted that the Corrie would do or say something if he found anything too alarming.

Apparently he didn’t.

With some final nods and empty platitudes, they were finally able to join Sergeant Levee and another one of their new brothers, Hitch, who’d been guarding the armored transport they’d taken from the base.

The drive back was largely uneventful, except for the part where Ori insisted they open the crate so he could make absolutely sure of what they were bringing back before they reached the base. That seemed paranoid, but Reaver couldn’t exactly fault the man’s reasoning. The good news was that the contents seemed to be innocent enough: some kind of alcohol in three rather fancy-looking bottles, a shockingly soft bolt of green fabric with an iridescent sheen to the weave, a solid cylinder of some kind of faintly luminescent mineral, two vibrantly painted ceramic bowls, a few jars of scented creams or cosmetics, and a selection of fancily packaged herbs and spices whose names Reaper didn’t recognize.

No explosives, no surveillance equipment, nothing biologically reactive unless you counted the alcohol.

Ori sealed the box back up, apparently satisfied with his findings.

Major Ullmann sighed, stretching his legs out in front of him in the back of the transport. “I wish I had even a quarter of the connections the Governor apparently thinks I do,” he said dourly. “She’s not wrong to be concerned though. The slated increase in Imperial taxes is going to be crippling to what few import and export businesses they have.”

The clones were all silent for several minutes. Planetary economic theory hadn’t exactly been covered in the standard trooper training regimen back on Kamino.

Eventually though, Ori did say, “I will speak to the Commander,” and left it at that. It was as vaguely non-committal as anything the Major had said back at the Governor’s office. Reaver had no plans to hold his breath waiting for anything to come of it.

Clip was waiting for all of them in the base’s courtyard when they all filed out of the transport. Much to Reaver’s surprise, he wasn’t there for Ori or the Major.

“You’re needed for a comm call upstairs,” Clip explained. The ARC’s uncharacteristically terse tone made Reaver tense up, immediately assuming that he’d be receiving some kind of bad news. Clip clearly noticed that reaction and grimaced a little before adding, “It’s nothing bad, but we thought it best to let you and Brace decide what should be shared with the rest of the base.”

Brace. Brace was the 241st’s CMO. That really didn’t set Reaver’s mind at ease.

They didn’t head to the main holotable in the base’s command center, but instead diverted off to one of the conference rooms meant for more sensitive conversations. And sure enough, there was Brace, standing on the other side of the compact comms system, looking as worn and worried as Reaver felt. He had a stack of datapads sitting on the table in front of him, which he’d obviously been reading through when they’d arrived.

Clip punched a quick code into the wall panel and said, “I’ll be in the command center if you need me.”

The device hummed and flickered to life when the door closed behind Clip, light resolving into quarter-sized images of two clones. The one on the right was a brother Reaver didn’t recognize, but the medical symbol painted on one of his spaulders spoke for itself.`

The other was Captain Rex.

Despite their nominally equivalent ranks, Reaver knew perfectly well where he fell relative to Rex in the new command structure around base. Reaver found himself stiffening unconsciously, shoulders squaring under the other Captain’s scrutiny. Out of the corner of his eye, Reaver saw Brace do much the same thing.

“Sir?” Reaver asked, with a deference he knew was deserved even if it was poorly defined.

Captain Rex was silent for a moment, and Reaver wasn’t sure if it was because of a delay in the signal or something else. “We’re working on getting someone embedded in the capital’s hospital, a Core-trained surgeon,” he finally said. “Be working on a list of your people you think could benefit from access to their facilities.”

The news was a kriff-ton better than whatever Reaver had been half-expecting. “We can do that,” he said, still waiting for the other boot to drop.

“We also have some medical files to transfer to you,” Captain Rex added, glancing over to his own medic, who leaned forward to enter something into the holotable on their end of the connection.

Brace picked up one of his datapads and plugged it into the ‘table. The file transfer only took a few moments, but whatever came up on the screen earned a sharp intake of breath.

“Nails finally agreed to let us read you in on his situation,” the other medic said without any further preamble. “He’ll be on the next ship we send your way.”

Reaver couldn’t sleep.

He was exhausted, but every time he started to drift off, some new thought would bubble up to the surface and jerk him back to wakefulness. The medics informed him that this was a fairly normal, even mild, reaction to coming out from under the long-term effects of his mind-control chip. Given how most of Reaver’s men were, or were not, recovering from their own surgeries, he kind of understood their point.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t the chip. It wasn’t like he was short on other, more immediate sources of stress.

Nails, for example.

Force. Captain Rex himself had told Reaver about Nails, almost the moment Reaver had left the infirmary after his own surgery. That news had seemed too good to be true, and Reaver’s small kernel of doubt had only grown after the days turned into weeks and their long-lost brother still hadn’t commed any of them.

But now that Reaver had read the medics’ reports, he had a better idea why Nails might have been hesitant to reach out to them.

Reaver himself had signed the flimsiwork, sending Nails off on a temporary assignment to the Republic medical station in the Hosnian system. He’d been helping to repair the base’s malfunctioning carbon dioxide scrubbers when Order 66 had gone out. Apparently there had been fifteen Jedi on base: nine knights and six padawans, all injured and receiving medical care.

The clones, Nails among them, had killed them all in their cots.

It wasn’t the last slaughter Nails had been ordered to perform, before being rescued out from under the noses of his Imperial commanders on one of Millik’s moons.

Force. The details had been hard to read. Reaver couldn’t even imagine.

Reaver had lost two years of his already foreshortened life to a slave chip the Kaminoans had planted in his brain before he was even decanted. He was angry, and bitter, and (although he hadn’t actually admitted it out loud) deeply afraid that removing the chip somehow hadn’t been enough, that one day another random comm call would snatch his mind away again, this time forever.

But in comparison to what their new brothers had experienced, in comparison to what Nails had experienced, Reaver was also very lucky.

Almost his entire company was here with him on Wadj. His men were wounded in mind and spirit, but they were recovering. The situation was far from ideal, but it could have been so much worse.

Reaver had met maybe a dozen new brothers who wore the infamous blue of the 501st, but the rest of their group sported all sorts of other colors, rarely in groups bigger than two or three. He hadn’t seen a single other brother wearing Clip’s shade of medium-green, or Shark’s brownish-red, or Aughts’s pale lavender. He didn’t know if their battalions were gone – just completely wiped out, or if their closest brothers were still out there somewhere under the control of the Empire.

Their new brothers had been opening up more and more every rotation, sharing stories from their pasts. Hearing more about them, what they had gone through during the war and especially after it, made his own experiences seem small and petty by comparison.

Reaver was so angry, and so afraid, and so lucky, and he’d really just like to work through his own osik, without also feeling guilty for not being happier or more grateful for his comparatively good situation.

He couldn’t blame his reaction on their new brothers. They weren’t doing or saying anything to stoke that guilt. If anything, they were being so unfailingly supportive about the whole situation that it was just making Reaver feel even worse. Aughts had flat out asked him if he’d prefer to schedule his check-ins with one of his own medics. That had seemed cowardly, not to mention rude towards the brothers who had saved them, so Reaver had turned the offer down.

Maybe he shouldn’t have.

He really needed to get his bucket on straight, and fast. He couldn’t let his own issues spill over onto Nails. He wouldn’t.

Sleep was a long time coming.

“Malk, we’ve got the Scythe incoming,” Latch said over the command deck’s open comms. “You’re gonna want to clear your cadets out of the way.”

They weren’t really cadets, but nobody seemed to have a better name for the pair of stringy, half-grown Nautolans one of their new brothers had somehow adopted. They’d been on base for a little over a week at this point, running endless laps around the courtyard, or eating in the mess, or practicing with blasters under the watchful eyes of multiple different clones. They seemed like good kids, not that Reaver had a lot of experience with less-than-fully-grown natborns.

Captain Rex had asked Reaver if transferring them here was going to be a problem, and Reaver had said no. He genuinely hadn’t thought there would be any issues.

He also hadn’t been sure if he could actually voice a complaint if he did have one. If it would be heard or heeded.

He wasn’t sure if the question itself hadn’t been some kind of test.

He was pretty certain he was being unfair.

Reaver just wished somebody would just lay out the details of this… whatever the kriff this was. Rescue mission or rebellion or what.

Maybe their new brothers couldn’t.

Maybe they didn’t know themselves.

Reaver had always known where he stood back on Kamino, with the G.A.R. Kriff, even with the Empire, under the control of the karking chip. The knowing made things easier, let him predict how he should act, when he should speak, and when it was better to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t know where that line was anymore.

Major Ullmann had always encouraged his officers to speak their minds, but now he was deferring to the newcomers in all the ways that mattered. He’d instructed his men to do the same. There had been a lot of pretty words to say about self-determination and the founding principles of the Republic, but none of the brothers present had missed the guilt and anger and grief and heartache behind his words.

Reaver got it. He did. The Major felt responsible for what had happened, for not figuring out the reality of the chips or how to give his men their own minds back earlier, no matter how irrational or illogical that line of guilty reasoning was.

Reaver felt the same way.

He just wished his CO would give him a little additional guidance here.

The 241st still answered to Reaver, and Reaver now answered to… somebody. Maybe Captain Rex. Rumor had it he’d been promoted to Commander near the end of the war, but those same rumors also said he’d been stripped of his rank and accused of treason after Order 66. Reaver wasn’t interested in reopening any of those wounds with tactless requests for details. And besides, Rex hadn’t exactly been around much, to oversee the day-to-day workings of the Wadj base.

The same could be said about Ahsoka Tano, who as a Jedi padawan also had held the rank of Commander, but who had also made herself scarce shortly after Reaver had been released by the medics. From what little gossip he’d been able to gather around base, her actual rank was even more convoluted than Rex’s, even though both of them were clearly the leaders of this operation.

Perhaps Reaver was supposed to be answering to one of the seemingly random sampling of Coruscant Guards, ARCs, or indeterminately elevated troopers who seemed to round out the rest of the upper echelon of the group’s command structure. Who even knew?

Force, the entire outfit was a karking organizational mess, except he couldn’t exactly say anything against their operational effectiveness. Not when they’d taken his own base out from under him and then seen to the health and freedom of his brothers. Chips or no, the entire incident was deeply humbling in retrospect.

Reaver sure as kriff couldn’t run any of these thoughts past his own men, who needed him to be a source of stability while they all sorted themselves out.

And he still didn’t know where he was supposed to fit into this whole mess.

“The Scythe is on her final approach,” Bar reported, sending out the data on the projected flight trajectory to the other terminals. “Requesting permission to land.”

Reaver had a wild, irrational impulse to deny that request, just to see what would happen.

“Latch, please confirm that the yard is clear,” he said instead, perfectly professional.

“Yard’s clear,” Latch said after only a moment’s pause.

“Then permission granted,” Reaver said, rattling off the prescribed words like he was reading from a script.

The shuttle was easy to pick out, a dark silhouette against the last colors of Wadj’s fading sunset. They’d been routing most shuttles in and out after full dark to hide them from the locals, but sundown was just going to have to be good enough cover this time because–

“Did a piece just fall off of them?” Bar asked, alarmed.

Because of that. Yeah.

“Looks like yes,” Reaver answered without glancing over his shoulder at the men. He didn’t need to. He could feel the incredulous looks they were trading behind his back.

He didn’t blame them. He sure as kriff wouldn’t have been comfortable taking that thing out of atmosphere, much less into hyperspace.

Despite the obvious beating the ship had taken, the Scythe rotated smoothly and sank carefully into the courtyard. The base’s floodlights were doing their karking best to highlight every spot weld and temporary patch that were currently holding the craft together.

Reaver stepped closer to the command deck’s main windows, so he could see into the courtyard below. Ori was down there, waiting to greet his brothers as they exited the ship. Eventually the 501st ARC and their senior medic, Jesse and Kix, appeared, escorting an unfamiliar sentient down the ship’s damaged ramp. The being’s slender build looked particularly out-of-place surrounded by so many clones.

Right.

The surgeon.

“Slicing isn’t the issue,” the trooper said, scowling down at the datapad in his hands. Reaver had seen him around base, but he’d never managed to catch this brother’s name. Whatever his name was, he didn’t seem terribly comfortable being the temporary center of attention. “We have the access codes. In Hutt space, that’s all you need to open accounts and move around credits. But…” he trailed off.

“But the Hutts police their own banking system, and they don’t look favorably on unsanctioned thefts,” Ori said, picking up the thread of conversation without glancing up from his own ‘pad. “Draining these accounts will be a blow to their reputation.”

Jesse nodded, clearly unsurprised by their analysis, but also unhappy about it. “With the Imperial oversight of their own banks, somebody’s going to notice a huge number of credits suddenly appearing in some random account on an Outer Rim skug hole.”

“The Mandalorian banks are still independent,” Ori said, frowning to himself, and then amended, “Barely.”

Wait. Wait… “Wadj has an independent banking system,” Reaver said, looking around the holotable. He’d thought Ori, at least, had already known that, but maybe not, given the hard looks he was getting. “Lots of these small, Outer Rim systems do. It’s small, and I don’t know all the details, but I was never asked to report back on the Major’s Imperial accounts, only the Wadj ones.”

Reaver could practically see the gears spinning in all three brothers’ heads.

“Factor, can you look into this?”

Right. The trooper’s name was Factor. Reaver filed that piece of information away, grateful that he wasn’t going to have to break down and show his shebs by asking.

“Already on it,” the trooper said to himself, eyes flicking back and forth across whatever he was reading on his personal screen. After a protracted silence and a lot of rapid fire typing, he said, “Oh, that’s interesting,” under his breath. He seemed momentarily oblivious to the fact that everyone else was watching him, waiting for some kind of elaboration.

Finally, Jesse sighed and then asked, “What’s interesting?”

Factor looked up, refocused his attention with a small shake of his head, and reported in a stringently professional tone, “The local system functions more as a membership-based, credit sharing entity instead of a true bank. It looks like it only really handles in-system transactions and has agreements in place with the Imperial banks for anything off-planet.” He handed his own datapad over to Ori, who took it with obvious interest.

The Coruscant guard’s expression sharpened like a hunting strill catching a scent. “They don’t require chain codes for membership,” he said, half to himself. He shared a weighted look with Jesse. “And the transfers can be done in the system’s name, not the individual member’s.”

Jesse made a quiet sound, half exhale, half low whistle. “How the kriff did they get away with negotiating that?” he said.

Ori shrugged. “By being too small and too unimportant to be worth targeting,” he said, but there was something distinctly predatory under the casual statement.

Reaver hadn’t been following the conversation half as well as he would have liked – credit-sharing didn’t sound any different from what regular banks did to him – so it was almost a relief when a comm request popped up into his HUD. It was from Brace. He turned to the side, flashing an explanatory hand signal to the others, and accepted the call.

“Reaver here,” he said, hoping this wasn’t some kind of emergency.

“The surgeon’s here,” Brace said flatly, not even bothering with a greeting.

Kriff, already? Reaver checked the chrono in his HUD and realized that this meeting had run exceedingly late. He’d completely lost track of time. He’d meant to get down to the infirmary before the natborn surgeon arrived. “I’ll be right down,” he said.

“Good,” Brace said and then cut the connection.

Well, that didn’t sound promising.

Reaver re-engaged his external mic just in time to hear Jesse say, “… If any of the natborns might be willing to test the waters by opening a personal account.”

Ori actually snorted. “Better than stashing their credits under their bunks, which is what I’m pretty certain everyone in the safehouse has been doing so far.”

“I’m needed in medical,” Reaver inserted into the brief lull in conversation. Maybe he should have phrased that as a question, but kark that. His brothers needed him, and whatever else this karked up situation ended up demanding of him, they would always come first.

But Jesse just nodded and asked, “Can you ask Echo and Tech to come up when they get done?”

Reaver just nodded and left the command deck to the others.

The walk across base was largely uneventful. It was a little disconcerting, how day to day life just kept humming along, chip or no chip.

Except, of course, there were differences. There was more chatter in the halls, more anger and more laughter and more sniping and just more personality underlying every conversation. Most everyone was wearing their old Phase II armor again, freshly pulled out of storage and touched up with the paint their new brothers had sourced.

And of course, tan wasn’t the only color paint he saw on his walk.

Reaver had known exactly who to expect in the infirmary, but the space still felt unexpectedly crowded. That could probably be chalked up to Clone Force 99’s presence, in its entirety.

The surgeon, a slender, multi-armed sentient in surprisingly colorful attire, was tracking a small light back and forth in front of Wrecker’s clouded eye and asking questions in a tone too quiet to make out. Kix was discussing something with Echo and Tech, the kid, Omega, was obviously trying to provide moral support to the others, and Hunter was hovering over them all like a broody Krayt dragon, puffed up and just as prone to bite. The situation seemed well in hand, so Reaver felt precisely no qualms about going to his own men.

Brace was bristling in front of Truss and Curl, pretending to review something on a datapad while actually watching the proceedings unfolding in the infirmary’s neighboring cots. It didn’t escape Reaver that he’d placed himself between his brothers and the unknown natborn in the room.

As for Curl and Truss, their reactions were about what Reaver had expected. Curl just looked bored, but Truss was fidgeting, playing with the makeshift prosthetic the medics had knocked together out of scavenged neural tech and a partial droid hand. The two metal digits curled along with his organic ones, but they moved more slowly in awkward fits and starts.

“Interface still glitching?” Reaver asked him, keeping his voice low.

Truss shrugged and looked up to meet Reaver’s eye, expression stubbornly blank. “Not really,” he lied.

“I had trouble figuring out distances back when it happened,” Wrecker was saying, his booming voice filling the space. “But I’ve gotten pretty good at managing.”

That also sounded like a lie to Reaver’s ears, but maybe it was a day for it.

Reaver was about to ask Curl how he was doing as well, when his scout suddenly hissed a soft, “Force,” under his breath.

Reaver turned to see what the issue was.

Echo had removed his armor and was starting to strip off his upper blacks as well.

Karking hells.

They all knew about the prosthetics, of course. They were kind of hard to miss, even when the 99 ARC was fully armored up, but Reaver hadn’t had any idea exactly how extensive the modifications were. Exactly how far up did–

A solid thwack against his armored shoulder jerked Reaver’s attention back to Brace, who had just hit him with his datapad.

“Stop staring,” the medic hissed, expression full of warning. He turned and leveled the same glower at Curl, whose shoulders hunched up in defensive guilt, and then Truss, who was the only innocent party here.

Truss just responded with a flat, unimpressed look of his own.

“Right,” Reaver said, pulling himself back on track and trying to drag his brothers along with him. “So, what’s the plan here?”

“Plans,” Brace said, not toning back his side eye a bit. “Plural. Tide, Kix, and I have worked out a number of different options, depending on what’s actually available.” He pointed at Curl, who’d taken a lungfull of corrosive gas back on Siesiss and experienced severely decreased lung capacity ever since, and said, “Regenerative therapy, partial mod replacement, or transplants, tank-grown or otherwise.” Then he shifted to Truss, and said, “Integrated ports or enhanced neural interfacing with an updated skeletal framing covered in either armored plating or synthetic skin.”

“All of which sounds pretty kriffing expensive,” Curl grumbled under his breath.

At least that concern was something Reaver could lay to rest. “That shouldn’t be a problem for long,” he said with a tiny, lopsided smirk which slanted at least a little mean. “I can’t share all of the details, but our brothers are working on a plan to relieve some slavers of their blood credits.”

Curl and Truss just stared in surprise, but it was Brace whose entire demeanor shifted. If he’d been wearing his plate, Reaver might not have noticed the slight shudder that worked its way down the medic’s spine, but Brace was in his light grays today. His expression flickered back and forth between hope and doubt.

Reaver could relate. The clones had always worked under the framework of tightening budgets and stringent rationing. The concept that they could just get whatever they needed without skimping elsewhere seemed too big to contemplate. Too big to be real.

Apparently the 241st weren’t the only ones to feel that way either.

Later that evening, well after the surgeon had returned to the natborn safehouse and Reaver had gone back to the regular day to day running of the base, Jesse had shown up to drag Reaver and a few of his officers to an ‘unofficial, official command meeting’ in the section of the base designed for natborn officers’ R and R time.

To Reaver, it looked a lot more like ‘after-hours drinking,’ but he wasn’t about to complain about that. Not when the Major had stopped by to add one of the governor’s fancy bottles of iridescent liquor to the more questionable options their brothers had ‘liberated’ from the Abainya pirates.

Who even knew how many glasses into the evening, Jesse had leaned back in the cushioned couch they’d claimed against one of the room’s walls and said, “It’s good to see him like this.”

It took Reaver a second to figure out who Jesse meant, but he did eventually realize that the ARC was watching their own CMO, Kix, who was snickering over something with two 501st brothers and Brace, who’d also been dragged into this impromptu celebration.

“What,” Reaver said, feeling and sounding a little fuzzy. “Drunk?”

Jesse snorted, because there wasn’t any denying that Kix was at least a little tipsy, but he still corrected, “Having fun. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen him smile since… Well, you know.”

Reaver did know, but this was getting a lot more personal than he was ready to handle, even if it turned out that Jesse and the other ambiguous ‘officers’ were surprisingly easy to talk to, at least after a few cups of liquid courage.

“This is the first alcohol I’ve had, since then,” his inebriated brain decided to blurt. The admission was somewhere between a confession, an explanation for why his tolerance was so pitifully low, and a poorly-thought-out attempt at commiseration. “Imperial regulations.”

Jesse just nodded and lifted up his own glass in a casual, almost mocking toast.

“To breaking Imperial regulations,” he said.

Reaver clinked his own glass against Jesse’s and echoed, “To breaking Imperial regulations.”

The weird, sparkly liquor really was good. Certainly better than that piss-tasting swill Ori was drinking.

“Oh, speaking of recreational reg-breaking,” Jesse said, leaning forward to set his glass on the low table in front of them. “How long do we all have to keep pretending we don’t know that one of your troopers has shacked up with Agent Weeks?”

Reaver just about choked on his drink, trying not to laugh mid-swallow. He’d been covering for Callan since before the war had ended. They all had. And now that every free breath he and his brothers took already amounted to high treason, Reaver was finding it even harder to get worked up over a little enthusiastically consensual fraternization on base, especially now that the remaining complications related to their company’s chain of command were actively being jettisoned out of an airlock.

The charade was getting more than a little silly, but there was something humorous and almost comforting in the familiar, unnecessary pretense, so after a moment’s thought, Reaver answered, “Probably right up until we get invitations to the marriage ceremony.”

Don’t lock your knees.

That was one of the earliest lessons Reaver remembered from back on Kamino. Before combat training, before blaster drills or armor maintenance, before learning to read or even to march, clone cadets were taught to stand at attention. Keep your back straight, chin up, eyes forward, and never, ever lock your knees. The instructors never explained why, they just gave the order and expected it to be obeyed. Of course, a few brothers didn’t listen, or weren’t sure what the instructors meant, or maybe they just forgot the detail, and ended up face-planting on the training room floor, out cold.

And when they’d come back to, then they’d been punished for not following their orders in every detail.

So, Reaver had learned pretty quickly not to lock his knees.

He locked his knees now though. He had to.

Nails was on that descending shuttle.

“I’m going to kill them,” Reaver muttered under his breath, trying to distract himself from his own irrational apprehension. At his side, Clip just laughed quietly. Pulling a half-joking grimace in response was easy. Reaver was still working things out in his head, but he thought he’d reached something resembling equilibrium over their ambiguous ranks. Getting absolutely plastered with your brothers was useful like that, even if his head was still throbbing.

“It’s too late to dismiss them now,” Ori said blandly, standing on Clip’s other side. “You’ll start a riot.”

Wasn’t that the truth?

Reaver had told Truss, Bolt, and Callan about who was arriving today, because to do anything else would have been cruel. He’d told Agent Weeks because he wasn’t an idiot and he knew that Callan would tell her even if Reaver didn’t. He’d also told all four of them that while he didn’t expect them to keep the news to themselves, they needed to keep the welcome party as small as possible so they wouldn’t overwhelm Nails.

It looked like the entire base had shown up instead, formed up in precise lines and decked out in their old, painted armor, buckets tucked neatly under their arms. Their non-241st brothers must be covering all of the base’s essential duty postings, to help make this happen.

At least most of the extra ships had relocated to the rapidly expanding archipelago base. It meant that at a bare minimum, they at least had the room for this kind of nonsense.

The shuttle was descending towards the last open space left in the base’s courtyard, thankfully far enough away from the front line of their formation to not shower them all in dust. Once the ship had landed and cut its engines, Reaver gestured for Truss and the other brothers assigned to the armory to fall in with him. Agent Weeks did not, as Reaver had half expected, join them. She just stood at the front of the formation in her formal blacks, shoulder to shoulder with Major Ullmann and Sergeant Levee in a silent show of support.

Reaver stopped next to the shuttle’s still-sealed ramp and waited as his brothers from the armory lined up next to him.

But then the shuttle’s ramp was dropping down and there, flanked by Captain Rex himself, was Nails.

Force.

It really was him, Nails, impossibly returned to them, but frozen at the top of the ship’s ramp, body language all but screaming that he was uncertain of his welcome.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

“Welcome home,” Reaver said, voice cracking only a little.

And then Bolt staggered forward up the ramp and caught Nails in a bone-crushing hug. Callan and Truss were only a step behind him. It was a wonder the four of them didn’t topple over, back into the ship.

A miracle, which probably had something to do with Captain Rex planting a supportive hand in the middle of Nails’ back.

As for Nails, he just buried his face against Callan’s spaulder and gripped all three of his brothers with desperate strength.

“I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about,” Reaver overheard Captain Rex say to Nails in an undertone.

It took Nails a bit, but once he got himself a little more under control, Reaver managed to gently entice the lot of them back down the ramp and towards the rest of the 241st, who look ready to storm the shuttle by force if they were asked to wait even one more minute.

He fully intended to join his men in the celebratory feast he wasn’t supposed to know Kenner had been cooking up in the mess. But there was one thing he needed to handle first.

When Captain Rex finally took the last few steps down off of the ramp and into the dust of the courtyard, Reaver gave him the most proper salute he could manage, shoulders back, posture perfect, and said, “Captain Rex. Thank you, sir.” He meant it too, the respect and the gratitude for Nails. For everything. He’d been raised to be loyal, and giving that loyalty to a brother was the easiest thing in the galaxy. Especially a brother whose men and mission continuously demonstrated their mettle. This brother.

Captain Rex just looked at him for a long moment, and then, instead of returning the salute, he extended one of his hands.

Kark it all, Reaver had really thought he’d gotten this relative rank thing worked out.

But Reaver did reach out, maybe a little awkwardly at first, and grip Rex’s forearm in greeting.

“Can we not, Captain?” Rex said with a small smile, putting a little extra emphasis on their shared rank.

Except it wasn’t shared, was it? Not really.

But Reaver really was feeling a little more confident in his footing. Enough to relapse into the familiar territory of being a subtle pain in the shebs when his superior officers were being particularly dense. “Anything you need, Commander.”

Stalemate.

The grumpy, resigned expression on Captain Rex’s face was legitimately hilarious, not that Reaver was going to let that reaction show on his face and lose the upper hand here.

Finally, Rex just sighed and buckled under the inevitable. “Can I at least get some food before having to deal with whatever crises cropped up dirtside?”

“Of course, Captain.”

AN: Previous chapters are available here.

Dividers by @freesia-writes using helmets by @lornaka. More designs available here.

#eidola tcw fanfic #star wars #tcw #clone wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #clone troopers #original clone trooper #clone trooper oc #oc clone trooper #star wars fanfic #tcw fanfic #clone wars fanfic #the clone wars fanfic

[cerastes]

Due to the way the world of Arknights is structured, with its myriad of irons on different stoves, it’s easy to think everything is more or less a different problem unrelated to the other doomsdays and Catastrophes (capitalized or otherwise) happening all around Terra, and in some cases, whether it be because we don’t know much about the issue at hand or because the relevance of Originium is not quintessential to said issue as it is in others, it’s true: What we know of Kjerag so far suggests that Originium is not terribly protagonistic, and the capitalist hellscape that is Kazimierz doesn’t really have anything to do with Originium, with the sole link being the discrimination towards the Infected, but even if you don’t take the Infected into account and decide Originium doesn’t exist, Kazimierz is still a capitalist hellscape.

Now, another such scenario that is easy to think of as completely unrelated to Originium and, hell, most of Terra for the most part is what’s going on with the Aegir, the Abyssal Hunters, and the Seaborn. However, the more we learn and the more you think about it, that is not the case. These are actually very intimately related issues narratively speaking. The troubles of Aegir are a warning to the surface, the biggest warning there is.

Let’s put it this way:

What’s the deal with Originium? It’s a scarcely understood substance that exists in Terra, explicitly, in the surface. It can be harnessed for great industrial power and is even the root of the so-called Originium Arts, where Terrans harness the residual Originium in their bloodstream to bend the laws of physics or radically alter the chemistry in and around them to produce “magic”: Psychic colossi, fireballs, pure darkness, power over gravity and time, you name it. And the more Originium one has in their bloodstream, the stronger their Arts. However, Originium is fundamentally dangerous, with Oripathy, or Originium Infection, being a lethal, terminal illness one can only stave off, and the sheer abuse of Originium has led to the residues directly causing Catastrophes, intense weather events that can include thunderstorms, tornados, earthquakes and even meteor showers. That’s not to talk about how Originium’s sheer industrial utility has resulted in incredibly morally bankrupt practices despite how dangerous it is, being one of the most used and abused substances in the setting for practically everything and anything. It’s a society that has largely grown dependent on its own poison. Worse still, it’s implied Originium is sentient and actively wants to kill Terrans very, very much, and those who are particularly badly infected tend to hear voices that try to command them to do horrible things to others.

Now, let’s think about the troubles of the world beneath the water’s surface: Aegir has incredibly advanced technology, what little we’ve heard has made it obvious that the level of technology and quality of life of Aegir was far, far superior to anything the surface world has ever seen. Skadi and Specter, separately from one another, have complained that the surface doesn’t even have automatic toilets, and when Ventus, in his fully transformed Seaborn form, starts charging a beam, Skadi immediately identified it as a “particle beam”, meaning that Aegir not only likely has plenty of research involving molecules and particles, they may even have particle beam cannons themselves. In fact, Gladiia confirms that the reason Abyssal Hunters use weapons such as swords and spears instead of their supertechnology is so Seaborns cannot copy it and adapt to it. However, think about what Seaborns are: A barely understood, sentient cluster of organisms that exists to evolve, expand, and reproduce, even if it means taking over the Aegir capital. There was no space for dialogue. To combat this incredibly dangerous threat that only grew stronger day by day, Aegir decided to create the Abyssal Hunters: Aegirians spliced with Seaborn genes. This resulted in incredibly capable supersoldiers capable of defeating even the biggest Seaborn monstrosities without the aid of their supertechnology... At the cost of possibly becoming Seaborn themselves, if the mutations got out of control or if their mental stability was sufficiently compromised, turning into one of the enemy. It is unknown what has become of Aegir, with only a few confirmed survivors of the Hunters (a mere four as of Stultifera Navis: Skadi, Specter, Gladiia and Ulpian).

Aegir is a warning to Terra.

Both Aegir and Terra are fighting enemies they barely comprehend, enemies that cannot be identified as people, but rather, as a force of nature, sentient and hostile and utterly incomprehensible. The closest thing to communication to either of these forces is Mizuki, who comes from a specific group of Seaborn that seems to be the exception rather than the rule. Enemies that encompass the environment itself, enemies that can’t be identified as a unified army under a ruler with a clear, predictable intent. Aegir and Terra might as well be fighting the world’s will, for all they know. The Ocean is sentient and hates Aegirians’ guts, and it’s so pronounced that you don’t even need to be a Hunter to reciprocate, as we learned with Thorns: He heard the Ocean call him out, saw a Seaborn popping out from the water, and without really understanding it himself, strongly felt “I am meant to kill that thing”. There’s nothing to suggest the soil itself is any different. For all we know, Originium might be a way in which the Earth is trying to kill off those who deal it.

But regardless of the truth behind Originium, it is fact that comparing Originium to the Seaborn is very easy:

They both grant incredible power to those who harness them, at the cost of subjecting themselves to incredible danger. Originium grants powerful Originium Arts, Seaborn genes turn you into a nigh-unkillable, exceedingly strong Abyssal Hunter, but Originium is a terminal, deteriorative illness, and Seaborn genes will eventually, inevitably turn you into a Seaborn, another vehicle with which to kill your loved ones. The Corrupting Heart is a hypothetical case of Skadi not being able to resist her Seaborn blood, turning into an all-assimilating apocalypse scenario. Ifrit, on the other hand, can potentially be an all-destroying force of nature if she’s not kept in check and under treatment diligently.

They both chew at the sanity of the subject. Skadi and Gladiia both struggle in different levels to keep their Seaborn mutation under check not unlike how Ifrit and Ptilopsis struggle to keep the voices inside of them from making them harm themselves and others.

They both are sentient yet incomprehensible, hostile and alien existences that humans cannot communicate with or relate to in any way, and could even be considered to be the will of the very environment or planet itself, depending on how you read them. *Mizuki being a very extreme exception.

Perhaps one could consider the tale of Aegir, lost in the depths with nary a peep in decades, to be a warning for the rest of Terra: Harnessing the very power that wants to kill you might not be the best idea, and a direct fight against the very nature around you can only result in defeat, perhaps instant, perhaps prolonged, but defeat nonetheless.

But given that the surface world, for the most part, already runs on Originium... Well, who can say where this will lead in the narrative?

#arknights #originium #seaborn

[faggylilpunk]

Finnaly made a tumbler! Anyway, haiii! :3 i am albert, i am a punk dragon dino!

What to expect:

very leftist ideologies

Politics

16+ posts

A lot of photos of me and cass

Talk of crimes (anything serious will have a tw and be tagged appropriately)

Furry & therian content (tho less common)

Punk diy stuff (i plan to make some tutorials for a lot of the diy stuff I've made<3)

F-slur/T-slur (I am reclaiming them but will have them tagged as #f-slur and #t-slur if they bother you ofc! Not changing my @ tho, it kinda means something to me qwq)

I may post words like slut, whore, and other degrading terms, they will be tagged as said word (ex: #slut) so you can blacklist the tag ^^

I may talk about themes of self harm, violence, abuse, or explicit substances, all of which will also be tagged! (Ex: #selfharm #tw:selfharm) but i will also have a more descriptive trigger warning for heavy subjects like self harm, sa, abuse ect. If you dont wanna fully blacklist the tag ^^

Some of my patches will have things that fall under these^ o will likely not go through the effort of censoring and i might not tagg it unless it's fairly close up so if it really bothers you just block me ^^ no harsh feelings

This isn't a 18+ blog, nsfw pfps will be blocked to keep ppl safe, my cusion follows me

Do not interact if:

Nsfw pfp

"Prolife"

Pedo, zoo, nazi, terf, biggot, or ableist

I will props add onto this ^^ Also, feel free to disagree with me or ask questions. Im happy to educate and understand that not everyone will agree with everything i have to say, even if ur another punk, lol

About me:

trans masc/enby person (gender bxy)

therian/otherkin identifying with a dinosaur-esk dragoniod (yes, I'm aware I am human -_-)

I am a plushum, meaning I have romantic and/or sexual attraction, twords plushies. I consider my bunny plush one of my partners bc i love them very much

Furry

Pansexual and arojump (under the aromantic spectrum)

I am diagnosed with autism, adhd, dyslexia and dysgraphia

Self diagnosed and peer reviewed with social anxiety, gender dysphoria (duh), bipolar disorder (not sure which one yet tbh but it's exstreamly obvious to my bipolar partner lol) and potentially dyscalcula but im not fully sure so take with a grain of salt

Mutual/social anarchist, i really wanna be able to set up a free market where I live one day

I am very vulture culture, frequently bring home dead animals to burry for respect and bones

Very left leaning if it isnt obvious enough

I've been called the f-slur & t-slur a few times. Now i call myself that because what ya gonna do if I already call myself those oh so scary words?

Im atheist and dont believe in any form of life after death but like I support yall having freedom of religion, pagens, Christians, Muslims, Satanists, like go for it, I just simply cant understand the idea of a greater purpose

I grew up where slurs were used casually. I have racist redneck family. Thankfully, I grew up to realize wtf is actually wrong with that side of my family ?-? You can break out of shitty thinking, there is no excuse for racism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, ect. Like get a life

I try my best to support, but we can only walk places, and we frequently eat outta dumpsters

More will be added as i think of stuff

[ankh-morporkianpostalworker]

To Wake, Perchance to Dream - The Symbiotic Nature of Waking and Dreaming in The Unsleeping City

One of the central themes of the first season of Dimension 20: The Unsleeping City is the idea of false dichotomy, specifically between the Waking World (our world) and the Dreaming World (a mysterious world of magic) and the rejection of that false dichotomy. Both of these worlds have their own chosen champion - Kingston Brown is the Vox Populi, the representative of the Waking World, acting as its voice in the goings-on of New York City's magical side and Pete Conlan as the Vox Phantasma, the representative of Dreaming. As the series progresses, it becomes obvious that the natural state of the two realms is not adversarial, but symbiotic, protecting and looking out for one another while depending on each other.

From bits of information Brennan drops throughout the seasons, it's fair to say that Dreaming could not exist without the Waking World. It poses some danger to the Waking World, sure, but it also acts to protect Waking from those threats, as well as other things that might threaten its host. It does this through the Vox Phantasma, a sort of magical antibody.

But without the Dreaming, Waking would not be complete. The ability to dream, to aspire, is inherent in mankind, and Dreaming is that ability. It nurtures Dream, offering it a host. Waking isn't without its own antibody in the form of the Vox Populi. As Kingston comes to discover, it's the duty of the Vox Populi to care for Nod, the Sixth Borough (and the Lovecraftian creature that presents themself as a small child), as much as the rest of the city.

Kingston and Pete's relationship is very much emblematic of this. Kingston certainly looks out for Pete, literally giving him shelter, acting as a mentor and by sticking up for him in season two, wherein he says that Pete is a citizen of New York, and therefore under his protection. In return, Pete uses his abilities to fight for New York, deal the killing blow to Robert Moses' nightmarish American Dream and give Kingston his first Dream since he became Vox Populi.

Then, in the final fight of season 2, we see what Waking and Dreaming can really do if they work together, with the absolutely insane Divine Intervention the pair pull off, which wouldn't have been possible without both of them working together.

Finally, in season two, we find out that Vox Phantasma are prone to self destruction, be it by wandering out into Deep Dreaming or by killing themselves through substance abuse, the latter of which is something Pete is actively dealing with. Pete, however, avoids this fate, in large part due to his friendship with Kingston, the latter acting as a sort of anchor to the former, and in the final fight, Brennan remarks that Kingston's life was changed for the better by the introduction of Pete into The Unsleeping City.

(Side note - season two constantly teases telling us about previous Vox Populi, and my main complaint with season two is that it doesn't.)

So, yeah. Thanks for reading this essay. Like, reblog, comment, whatever. I'd like to hear the thoughts all of you have on this topic.

#dimension 20 essay #dimension 20 the unsleeping city #pete conlan #pete the plug #kingston brown #vox phantasma #vox populi dimension 20

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

NEW YORK POST: "Meghan, Thomas makes clear, wanted for nothing — except her mother, who spent several years of Meghan’s life off doing her own thing, leaving Thomas the primary parent."

https://nypost.com/2022/07/22/meghan-markle-revealed-for-what-she-really-is-a-kardashian/

A few quotes:

For those armchair psychologists wondering about the roots of Markle’s narcissistic injury, we have a working theory: Maternal rejection at a formative age. Meghan, Thomas makes clear, wanted for nothing — except her mother, who spent several years of Meghan’s life off doing her own thing, leaving Thomas the primary parent.

Harry, of course, was traumatized by the death of his mother, his rage compounded by ranking as the royal spare.

“I’m not the important one,” he once said. Harry’s grief and anger manifested in substance abuse, depression, the destruction of fellow students’ property, and his poor treatment of girlfriends Chelsy Davy and Cressida Bonas. “He lacked class, was unromantic, unserious, short-tempered and imperious,” Bower writes. Both women found him “ungenerous”; Bower calls him “feckless towards women.”Harry is also painted as quite dim, struggling — despite great help and leeway — with passing his classes at Eton, a D student at best.

Cressida & Chelsy- mocked at the wedding: "See what you missed." Today:

As for Markle — whose motto, it can never be said enough, is “Be kind” — the higher she climbs, the worse she treats others. It’s like she has imposter syndrome: Lacking talent, charm, intelligence or class, her only way up through marriage, Meghan lashes out at the very people paid to make her life easier, better, happier.

Relish Bower’s detail from her early days, Markle dreaming of becoming “the face of L’Oreal,” saddled instead with spokesmodeling for a midlevel Canadian clothing chain, her frustration unleashed on the poor crew.

Some critics have dubbed the couple “the Duke and Duchess of Woke. Meghan is no humanitarian. She’s a Kardashian. And Harry and Meghan still see themselves as the Obamas 2.0!

"Gotta admit that the sickening saga of Hapless Harry and Me-gain has made me pay some attention to Page Six-type celebrity gossip, in which I normally have zero interest. But the prospect of watching these two insufferable, no-talent, super-selfish, pseudo-Wokie con artists careen towards their inevitable and much deserved mutual destruction is too tempting to ignore. Predict their final downfall will take the form of the typically over-hyped, Hollywood style, angry divorce which has been in the cards from "I do." It will be the last gasp of their shared dysfunctions when it becomes obvious even to delusional them that their fake magic carpet has crashed and burned, and they will take it out on each other because, ironically, that will be all they have left."

#revenge #meghan markle #prince harry #tombower #tom bower #bring on bower #bringonbower

[dyke-bars-never-last]

Lesbian Love & Relationships with Leaf and Firewalker | Women's Liberation Radio News Edition 94, commentary by Sekhmet SheOwl:

Lesbians arrive to romantic relationships whether they are life-long never-het lesbians or ex-het late-blooming lesbians, but the baggage of their individual childhood and young adulthood experiences, the effects of misogyny and sexism they've weathered as women and life-long exposure to anti-lesbian sentiment within their society and culture, that's a hell of a lot to unpack and heal. And just like any heterosexual, bisexual or asexual woman, if you don't do the healing, you're probably not going to create the experience you really want of romantic love. Lesbian romantic relationships aren't perfect, of course, but their potential to approach an ideal romantic experience are incredibly high, assuming the women involved have worked on themselves as individuals enough that they don't unintentionally sabotage their connection.

It's become cliched online, especially among women, but it's nevertheless true, self-love has to be your priority. Self-love is the foundation of the best most successful romantic relationships regardless of your sexuality and it's also the basis of a high-quality satisfying life. What does self-love even mean though? I've learned that it means taking care of yourself as your top priority, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. That's why healing the wounds of your youth, your past traumas and losses is an act of self-love, perhaps the most important act of self-love. It is these previous experiences that fuel our core beliefs about ourselves, other people, love and romance and life. I think it's safe to say that most if all women reach adulthood with deep-seeded feelings of inadequacy, insecurity, low self-esteem and self-hate. Growing up a girl in a woman-hating world will do that to you. Being raised by a mother who doesn't love herself will do it too.

Lesbians who grew up aware of their lesbianism, the ones who knew from early girlhood and came out in adolescence or even earlier, are likelier than their late-blooming counterparts to arrive at womanhood, having experienced anti-lesbian prejudges, abuse, rejection from family and friends, and a deep sense of social isolation, all of which leave lasting emotional and psychological marks.

Late-blooming ex-het lesbians have a more obvious history of internalizing anti-lesbianism and that doesn't just disappear over night once they come out.

All of this, the poor self-image, sexism, hetero-sexism etc. inevitably affects the way a woman shows up in romantic relationships, how she approaches them and the treatment she accepts from her partners. It's easy to brush off experiences we had as girls or young adults, dismiss them as ancient history and irrelevant to our present lives, especially if we don't spend much time remembering the distant past and emotionally reacting to it. But so much of our beliefs and emotions are unconscious, it's amazing how unaware of your own feelings you can be. These buried, unresolved emotions and the distractive beliefs they perpetuate in the psyche, are why so many lesbians struggle with chronic illness, mental illness, substance abuse and general unhappiness. It's also why some lesbians have a hard time finding and maintaining happy romantic relationships.

Time alone doesn't fix anything. Only doing the work will heal and change you. Healing in personal development work take many different forms and you probably need to use more than one method. The right kind of therapy, self-help books, mindset work, grief work, life-coaching and spirituality are all key tools we have at our disposal. Feminist controversy around therapy aside, I urge lesbians to do whatever it takes to process and heal from their girlhood trauma, their young adult trauma, their repressed feelings and their negative opinions of themselves. The younger you do so, the better, but it doesn't matter how old you are. It's never too late to do the work and it is always worth doing. Regulate your nervous system, examine your beliefs, identify the ones that harm you and do whatever it takes to replace them.

If you've been listening to this podcast or if you've been into radical feminism for a while, you should know by now that one way patriarchy prevents women from fighting for ourselves and seizing power is keeping us disconnected form each other. Lesbian relationships are the ultimate union between women, the ultimate challenge to hetero-patriarchy on the social level. So it's important for lesbians to succeed at their romantic relationships, politically, not just for their own happiness. That doesn't mean lesbians should feel pressure to make their romantic partnership work for the sake of feminism. The point is, there is political reward for straight men in the failure of lesbian relationships. At the very least, it's a rhetorical bar[?] that they can weaponize against lesbian relationships. Men do it all the time online, attempting to convince women that same-sex partnerships between women are even less likely than heterosexual marriages to deliver lasting happiness.

While being a good partner and creating a successful romantic relationship is up to individual lesbian, because her personal development and healing are her responsibility, the only reason she has healing to do in the first place is patriarchy. Internalized misogyny, mother wounds, internalized hetero-sexism, limiting beliefs about love and oneself as a woman, PTSD, and depression and anxiety, all of that comes from hetero-patriarchy. The system makes it as hard as possible, not only for lesbians to be themselves, but to love each other successfully. Damaged self-hating women can't pull off long-lasting happy stable partnerships. They don't have the standard they should have in romantic relationships, which is why opposite-sex attracted women tolerate what they tolerate from men. So many women don't even feel worthy of consistent love, commitment and excellent treatment, that's how hurt they've been as girls.

I want lesbians to have the superior romantic love and commitments they deserve. But even more than that, I want them to have the most self-confidence, the most self-esteem and the most self-love of all women. Luckily, taking care of the latter guarantees the former. If you're a single lesbian, good, now is the time to work on yourself, no matter how hard and even painful healing yourself might be. I guarantee it's the only way to get the best of what life and romance have to offer and it's so much easier to do the work when you're single. If you are a coupled lesbian who hasn't yet healed and resolved the past or established a rock-solid loving relationship with yourself, you, your partner and your relationship can only benefit from you taking care of yourself. Don't put off another year.

I wish all lesbians in the world the romantic love you desire and the joy of loving, adoring and caring for yourself.

Happy Valentine's Day to all the lesbians listening and best of luck making 2024 the year that you show yourself love!

#lesbian #radfem #radical feminism #WLRN #lesbian podcast #relationship advice

[twistedtummies2]

Top 15 Portrayals of the Scarecrow

A while back, I did lists for what many would consider the four key villains of Batman: Joker, Catwoman, Penguin, and Riddler. I recently updated those countdowns, should you wish to go back and revisit them. However, lately, I’ve been on sort of a kick for another great antagonist of the Caped Crusader…that being the Master of Fear himself, Scarecrow.

Jonathan Crane, a.k.a. Scarecrow, is perhaps one of the most analogous villains to Batman himself in the Dark Knight’s Rogues Gallery. While all of Batman’s best villains tend to parallel the hero in some fashion - either acting as a dark reflection of the Caped Crusader, or as a direct contrast to him - I would argue the Scarecrow is the one who most obviously and directly has this comparable element. Batman’s entire modus operandi revolves around intimidation and fear; he dons the trappings of a mysterious creature of the night and behaves in seemingly ghoulish ways as a means of frightening his opponents. He is also a being of great intelligence and cunning, using his scientific and deductive reasoning to outwit and pursue his antagonists.

The Scarecrow mirrors this quite directly: Jonathan Crane is a psychiatrist, a brilliant man, who wears a creepy costume and uses a variety of weapons to instill fear and spread terror and horror throughout Gotham City. The most notable of these weapons is his patented Fear Toxin: a hallucinogenic substance that causes people to experience their worst fears with shocking realism. The difference is that while Batman uses his mind and his scare tactics to mortify criminal scumbags, the Scarecrow is far, FAR less moral: abused and tormented constantly as a child by his family and his peers, Crane is an out-of-control sadist who wants nothing more than to see all of Gotham City scared quite literally to death. Sometimes he uses the excuse of furthering the cause of science as his motivation, but it’s always clear that Crane is simply a cruel man lashing out at what he perceives to be an equally cruel world. In a way, he is the most obvious example of who Bruce Wayne could have become if he’d allowed his heart to be twisted to evil.

The Scarecrow is a villain who has had a steady sort of rise in popularity over the course of his long career in comics. He’s more popular nowadays than he probably ever has been, but he’s not quite as iconic as characters like Joker or Catwoman. Still there’s been some decent reinterpretations of  him beyond the comics. So, today, I’d like to give attention to my favorites! Without further ado, here are My Top 15 Portrayals of Scarecrow!

15. Dave Wittenberg. Wittenberg provided the vocal effects for the Scarecrow in the first LEGO Batman Video Game. (In the first game, none of the characters actually spoke, they just…sort of made noises. XD ) In the first game, Batman has to take down three separate groups of allied villains, each with their own sinister plots to foil. The Scarecrow is one of several villains - including Harley Quinn, the Mad Hatter, and, of all people, Killer Moth - who joins forces with the Joker in the third chapter of the game. He agrees to help in an elaborate scheme that will destroy Gotham Cathedral, and spread a deadly gas all across the city. Scarecrow serves as a playable character on the villain’s side of the story, as well as in the “freeplay” mode of the game; for the hero side of the story, he is the designated “vehicle boss” for the Joker’s chapter of the game, as he uses a suped-up crop duster to spread his Fear Toxin across the city. The heroes thus have to hop into the Batwing to stop him. The character would later reappear in other LEGO titles, but this was the only major role he ever really played. Playing as the Scarecrow - even in LEGO form - is a lot of fun, and the biplane boss is pretty cool, too; ultimately, I just feel other Scarecrows are more impressive.

14. Jim Meskimen. Meskimen voiced the Scarecrow in the gloriously wild crossover film, “Batman vs. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” Loosely based on the comic book miniseries of the same title, the story focuses on Ra’s Al Ghul and the Shredder working together in a mad scheme to - of course - destroy Gotham City. As part of their elaborate plan, the two villains make a deal with the Joker, who releases several of the inmates inside Arkham Asylum, and then douses himself and them with the mysterious green goo called “The Ooze,” causing all of them to transform into human/animal hybrids. In the case of Jonathan Crane, he transforms into - what else? - a giant crow, and does battle with both Leonardo and Batman himself. Scarecrow turns out to be one of the more prominent rogues of the bunch to appear, as the haunting images he forces Leo to see under the power of his Fear Toxin come back to haunt the leader of the TMNT later in the picture…however, I’ve never really liked the look of Crane prior to his transformation, and his role is ultimately just too small for him to get any higher placement.

13. Don Messick. Messick was one of the earliest depictions of the Scarecrow in other media to exist. He played the character in the classic Hanna-Barbera cartoon series “Challenge of the Superfriends,” an early incarnation of the Justice League. In the series, Scarecrow is one of the (unlucky) thirteen villains who make up the nefarious Legion of Doom: a coalition of supervillains, led by Lex Luthor, who have banded together with two simple goals in mind. First, destroy the Superfriends…and second - you guessed it - take over the world. Messick’s Crane was a wonderfully creepy character, with a very off-putting design and a disturbingly raspy, sinister voice; he was one of the most unsettling villains of the whole group. Oddly enough, the Scarecrow did NOT use his signature Fear Toxin as his weapon of choice; instead, he apparently had control over a flock of trained crows, which he used to help him spy on people, commit robberies, and do all sorts of other dastardly deeds. I have a lot of nostalgia for this show, and I do love the look and the voice for the Scarecrow. However, much like with the previous two versions, there just wasn’t enough time devoted to the character for him to be a truly grand interpretation.

12. Andre Stojka. Stojka played the character in a follow-up series to Superfriends, entitled “Super Powers Team: Galactic Guardians.” The series took place in the same continuity as the earlier Superfriends show, but by now, the Legion of Doom had disbanded, and its villains were working all on their own. Scarecrow appeared in one of the most well-known episodes of the show, “The Fear,” which delved into the dark and tragic origins of Batman. It was here that we met the Scarecrow’s alter-ego of Jonathan Crane for the first time outside of comics, and it was also the first time the Scarecrow’s signature tactics of making his foes’ worst fears come to life was finally put to use. In the episode, Crane masquerades as a well-meaning psychiatrist, attempting to help the police and cure Batman of his mortifying fears…while, in reality, he commits daring heists as the Scarecrow, using not Fear Toxin but “Fear Transmitters” to bring to life the horrors of his nemeses. While I personally feel Don Messick’s voice and appearance were more frightening, Stojka’s Crane - despite getting only one episode to his name - has more layers to his character, and more time to shine, as well as having his signature gimmick in some fashion. This was the first time the Scarecrow really started to come into his own in other media, I would say, and this episode served as a template for basically every future introduction to the character.

11. Dee Bradley Baker. Baker’s Scarecrow is perhaps the quintessential example of the character just not having enough time to fully come into his own. Baker played the character in the TV series “Batman: The Brave and the Bold;” in the series, most of the episodes were opened up with a pre-titles teaser (similar to a James Bond movie, for example), which would usually be disconnected from the rest of the episode’s story. The Scarecrow served as the antagonist of the teaser for one of my favorite episodes of the show, “Trials of the Demon.” In the teaser, Batman teams-up with Jay Garrick - the original Flash - to combat both Scarecrow and an original villain, Scream Queen (a sort of evil Black Canary). It’s Halloween, and Scarecrow has somehow managed to infect all the pumpkins in Gotham City with a special form of his Fear Toxin. While Flash and the Scream Queen have a merry chase throughout the city, with Garrick using superspeed to gather all the pumpkins before it’s too late, Batman does battle with Scarecrow and his goons directly. Baker’s voice was glorious, and I love the design of Scarecrow here, as well as the way he’s depicted as a strong physical fighter, along with his Fear Toxin’s effects. This easily could have been one of the greatest interpretations of the character in animation…but unfortunately, this Teaser (along with a non-speaking role as a villain in the video game based on the show) was really the only role Scarecrow had in the entire series. I really wish we could have seen more of him.

10. Christopher S. Field. Field plays the Scarecrow in the online game “DC Universe Online,” where he serves as one of the mission bosses. The mission is one for the heroes’ side of the game: the Player is sent on a mission to rescue Batwoman, who has been kidnapped by Crane. Both the Player and Batwoman end up trapped by Scarecrow in a huge arena, flooded with a special form of his Fear Toxin. The battle involves multiple stages, as Crane uses the Toxin to bring to life numerous hallucinations, all based around specific phobias. It’s a fun boss fight, and Field delivers one of the better vocal performances of the game. His Scarecrow is theatrical and over-the-top, but also genuinely creepy at some points. Definitely an underappreciated portrayal of the character, in my opinion.

9. Robin Atkin Downes. Downes played the Scarecrow in the two-part animated adaptation of one of my all-time favorite Batman stories, “Batman: The Long Halloween.” This classic tale takes place at an odd sort of “middle time” in Gotham’s history: on the one hand, many of its famous supervillains - like Joker, the Mad Hatter, Catwoman, and, obviously, Scarecrow - already exist and are active. However, they are still very much “on the rise,” with Gotham’s gangster families - the Falcones and Maronis - being the real major threat to the Gotham populace. The story, in a way, tracks the fall of Gotham’s old guard of criminals, and the takeover of the supervillain; an evolution in the way crime works in Gotham City. The film is a pretty faithful and solid adaptation, in some places even improving on the book. Downes plays a truly creepy take on the Scarecrow, with a dangerously dark voice. He first appears in the second half of the film, where he escapes from Arkham Asylum and teams up with the Mad Hatter, the pair of them, in term, joining forces with Carmine Falcone in a plan to kill Batman. The visuals for Scarecrow, as well as the actor’s vocals, are really fantastic, and I’m glad that the film jettisoned the bizarre writing tactic Jeph Loeb used in the book of having the Scarecrow speak almost entirely in quotes from Nursery Rhymes. (He does something similar with the Hatter, but him speaking in Wonderland quotes is one thing; Scarecrow talking in Mother Goose language never really made sense to me.) However, once again, the Scarecrow is just a supporting player in the events that unfold; he’s fun to watch, but other versions just do more with the character.

8. Charlie Tahan & David W. Thompson. This is where things with the Scarecrow, in my opinion, start to get REALLY good. In the TV series “Gotham,” we get a great new interpretation of Jonathan Crane’s beginnings. In Season 1, Jonathan Crane - played by Charlie Tahan - is still a teenager, living with his abusive father: a scientist named Gerald Crane, who is experimenting with a chemical formula that will one day become Jonathan’s own patented Fear Toxin. At the end of Jonathan’s story arc in Season 1, he ends up exposed to these chemicals, which causes him to go completely insane as he begins to hallucinate visions of a demonic scarecrow monster chasing him around. Later, in Season 4, Jonathan returns, and a series of events causes him to completely lose his grip on reality, thus becoming the Scarecrow. Tahan left the show at this point due to scheduling conflicts, so for the remainder of Season 4 - as well as into the 5th and final season - the Scarecrow was played by a new performer, David W. Thompson. It was interesting to see a younger version of the Scarecrow, effectively just seeing the character get started on his evil path, and the reimagining of his origin story - inspired by the incarnation from the New 52 continuity - was pretty well-handled. The only reason this Scarecrow doesn’t get higher on the list, is that - while I personally think Thompson’s Scarecrow costumes were better than Charlie Tahan’s, and he had a more menacing voice to accompany them - the character sort of takes a downgrade after Tahan’s departure, as he ultimately just ends up playing second fiddle to other villains, like the Valeska Brothers and Bane. Once again, they didn’t really DO much with Scarecrow in his later appearances. Still, it was always cool to see him, and I do like what both performers did with the part.

7. Dwight Schultz. Schultz played Jonathan Crane in the direct-to-video Halloween special, “Happy Halloween, Scooby-Doo!” The film focuses on the Mystery Inc. Gang trying to stop a horde of man-eating monsters, and features no less than three special guest characters: Bill Nye the Science Guy, Elvira...and, of course, the Scarecrow. The Scarecrow is the secondary antagonist of the film, as he starts off as a red herring figure, seemingly the villain behind the evil goings on. However, it’s later revealed he’s not responsible, and he actually joins forces with the heroes to stop a greater threat. There is so much that’s AWESOME about this Scarecrow that it’s hard to list everything succinctly. It bizarrely shows the strength of the character by surprisingly NOT having him team-up with Batman (the Dark Knight never even appears in the story), and by having him never use his patented Fear Toxin. He has to stand up on his own terms, without any of his usual support structures. I also like that the special actually takes Crane pretty seriously; there’s humor involved, make no mistake, but neither Schultz nor the writers turn the Scarecrow into a joke. He’s a bit of a ham, and is revealed to actually be a sort of fanboy for Elvira, but he’s also able to be legitimately threatening and dangerous. Finally, it’s really neat to see Crane go from villain to reluctant hero in this story. He doesn’t help out of the goodness of his heart, but seeing him work together with the heroes - ANY heroes - is just something I don’t think has really been done before. I never would have expected a Scooby-Doo Halloween special, of all things, to give us one of the most fascinating depictions of the Master of Fear to ever exist in animation…but by Gadfrey, these mad fools found a way to do it!

6. Henry Polic II. The portrayal of the Scarecrow in the first three seasons of “Batman: The Animated Series” seems to be somewhat polarizing. I personally think this is a great interpretation. While ultimately not especially frightening on his own accord, Henry Polic II gives us what I would argue is one of the most comic-accurate renditions of the Scarecrow to date, with some of the most fun episodes to his name. This take on the Master of Fear would prove rather influential; performers like Dwight Schultz, Christopher S. Field, and Dee Bradley Baker all seemed to take a leaf out of this man’s book, with Scarecrow voices that were able to be both creepy and quite melodramatic. There’s really not much to say about this version; in my opinion, it’s a classic interpretation.

5. Robert Englund. In the fighting game “Injustice 2,” Scarecrow appears as a member of a reimagined version of the classic Legion of Doom, this time led by Gorilla Grodd rather than Lex Luthor. While, much like in Superfriends, he actually doesn’t have that much to do in the actual main story of the game, Injustice’s Crane wins major points largely due to the medium he’s being presented in, combined with his voice actor. As far as the former goes, Crane is a playable character in the freeplay and Arcade modes of the game, as well as a recurring boss in the main story; this means we get a lot more time to enjoy him when compared to Superfriends or some other interpretations. Heck, the aforementioned Arcade mode basically gives you a special story with Crane as the villain protagonist, which ends with him on track to become a veritable God of Fear intent on spreading terror to the entire universe: that’s more than a great consolation prize, in my opinion. The way Jonathan Crane is allowed to work in this kind of medium is also pretty imaginative: the Scarecrow pictured here, you see, is actually a monstrous hallucination that appears as a result of the Fear Toxin. The real Crane (who has a design inspired by the Nolanverse version of the character) is a much shrimpier and less physically imposing individual; the Nightmare is what we are really fighting. Speaking of Nightmares…you can’t really go wrong with Freddy Krueger as the voice of the Scarecrow, can you? Disregarding previous forays into the DC Universe, playing such characters as Felix Faust and the Riddler, Robert Englund basically already played a depraved Master of Fear and made his bloody career out of it. If making him the Scarecrow wasn’t the most ingenious vocal typecasting I’ve ever heard of in my life, I’d like to know what else would fit that description.

4. Cillian Murphy. I actually revisited these films recently, and I have to admit…I was a little torn on whether or not Cillian Murphy’s depiction of the Scarecrow really deserved this high a place in the ranks. In some ways, upon revisiting the character in these films, he’s better than I remember, and in other ways…I wouldn’t necessarily say he’s WORSE, but he’s more underwhelming. The reason why is very simple: I think the actual DEPICTION of the Scarecrow is a pretty solid one. Interpreting him as a corrupt doctor at Arkham Asylum itself was a nice new twist to the origin story of Jonathan Crane, and I personally think that Cillian Murphy - while by no means an OBVIOUS choice for the role of the Master of Fear - delivers an absolutely spellbinding performance across all three pictures. There’s also a lot of great visual moments and scenes for the character, in general, that just sort of collect in one’s mental soup and stay there. This is especially true in the first film: the sequence where he reveals himself to Falcone, the scene where Batman gasses him right back, the imagery of a fire-faced Crane racing through the misty streets of Gotham on horseback a-la “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” all of it is just breathtaking to see in action. And, of course, there’s definitely credit to be given with the fact that Murphy’s Jonathan Crane is the only antagonist who appears in all three movies of the trilogy, and - aside from Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn in the DCEU, perhaps - he’s the only cinematic Batman villain to HAVE that distinction. The real issue with Murphy’s Scarecrow is simply that, like so many other versions of the character, he never really gets to shine in the spotlight. He’s always working in the shadows of other, more prominent antagonists. In the first film it’s Ra’s Al Ghul, in the second film it’s primarily the Joker, and in the third film it’s mostly Bane. I feel like if Murphy had been given a starring role in a movie, at some point, he could have been one of the greatest cinematic Bat-Rogues of all time, and easily could have made my Top 3.

3. Jeffrey Combs. When “Batman: The Animated Series” entered its fourth season, entitled “The New Batman Adventures,” the decision was made to revamp a lot of elements of the show. The most notable change was in the visual style; all of the characters were redesigned to fit the new aesthetic. While some of these redesigns were fairly minor in their adjustments - such as with Two-Face, Clayface, and Harley Quinn - a lot of them were quite drastic in how they changed the characters. With the Scarecrow, not only was Jonathan Crane given a newer, much more horrific design - apparently inspired by Leatherface from “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” - but also a new voice artist to replace Henry Polic II. Who better to tackle the Master of Fear than Lovecraft’s Reanimator, Jeffrey Combs? For many fans, this was the first truly frightening version of the Scarecrow put to the screen. Much like with Andre Stojka, Combs really only got one major appearance in the part, but it was certainly a memorable one: in the episode “Never Fear” - inspired by the comic book story “Fear For Sale” - the Scarecrow uses a new form of his Toxin that, rather than instill fear, takes fear AWAY from the victims. It doesn’t sound so bad, right? Well, here’s the thing: fear is largely what gives people self-preservation and common sense. We typically avoid doing dangerous or illegal things at least partially because we fear the consequences of such actions. Without fear, we have far fewer inhibitions. Scarecrow thus plans to plunge Gotham into a state of chaos, unless he’s paid for the antidote. This Scarecrow would reappear briefly in another episode, “Over the Edge,” but he was really more of a background presence there. He would also return, complete with Combs’ voice, as the first villain featured in the beat ‘em up video game “Rise of Sin Tzu,” where he uses a variant of his Fear Toxin to summon ghostly visions of some of Batman’s other enemies to help him do battle during his boss fight. This, to me, is still one of the greatest versions of the Scarecrow ever made. Once again, the only real issue with him is one wishes we could have seen even more of him…and I’m very grateful to report, that is the last time I have to say that phrase. It certainly does not apply to my top two choices.

2. Dino Andrade. While “Batman The Animated Series” and the Dark Knight Trilogy were instrumental in introducing the Scarecrow to a broader audience, I think many would agree the Batman: Arkham Games were what officially cemented his popularity as a character. Until these games came out, while I heard a lot of people say the Scarecrow was one of their favorite Batman Villains, I almost never heard any of them say he was their ABSOLUTE favorite. But, ever since then, it seems like almost any time people name their favorite Bat baddies, Scarecrow is at least in the Top 3, if not number one. Dino Andrade played Crane in the first game of this series, “Arkham Asylum,” and most people agree that the Scarecrow Nightmare Sequences were probably the best part of the whole game. Andrade described the character as “essentially a demon” and “a Shakespearean villain,” and his performance definitely matches both these descriptions: much like some other Scarecrows on the list, it’s a vocal set dripping with melodrama…but unlike such performers as Henry Polic II and Dwight Schultz, there is absolutely NO humor to Andrade’s diabolical and deranged Prince of Panic. He’s a truly unhinged, nightmarish figure, easily one of the most frightening versions of the Scarecrow ever created. While Scarecrow is not the main villain of the game, this is a case where I actually don’t think he’s underutilized at all. Partially due to the nature of the story and the medium its presented in, Crane feels as if he really does get his just dues in this interpretation, neither overstaying his welcome nor coming across as glanced over. Andrade would reprise the role in a spin-off game of the series, “Arkham Underworld,” where players were actually able to play AS the Scarecrow, along with a few other villains (namely Killer Croc, Harley Quinn, and Riddler). His work there is just as magnificent.

1. John Noble. After years and years, and numerous interpretations, of the Scarecrow being a character who occasionally stole the show but never really claimed the spotlight, “Arkham Knight” finally gave the character the break he’d been needing. In the third and final major game of the Arkham series, Crane returns not just as a supporting antagonist, but as the main villain of the story. While the Joker certainly has a role to play, and the actual main ANTAGONIST is the titular Arkham Knight, the Scarecrow is the rogue whose actions and desires really drive the plot forward. He is the mastermind behind all the misery befalling Gotham City in this tale. John Noble - an actor renowned for his dark and sophisticated voice - plays Crane with urbane frostiness, presenting a more intellectual and manipulative Scarecrow than the one in Arkham Asylum. The game even offered updated reinventions of the Nightmare sequences from the first game; instead of stealth-based platforming sections, they instead became obstacle courses and action sequences in the Batmobile, but with the same hellish and depraved scope. While I wouldn’t say Noble is my definitive Scarecrow, I would say he was, at the same time, the Scarecrow who had a little bit of everything: able to use fear not only through his Toxins, but simply through psychological warfare, and with truly frightful appearance and a performance to match. I fear there is no doubt in my mind that he is My Favorite Portrayal of the Scarecrow.

#list #countdown #top 15 #dc #comics #batman #batman villains #villains #scarecrow #jonathan crane #best #favorites #portrayals #actors #acting #movies #film #tv #animation #video games

[bugsbenefit]

ST is much more inspired by Stephen King than we tend to acknowledge and i mean MUCH more

Warning: Major spoilers for Firestarter by Stephen King (also Carrie, IT and the Talisman but only teeny tiny one's)

some parallels on the show get talked about a lot, especially with how the writers are very vocal about them/them getting verbally mentioned in the show:

IT, by Stephen King, for example, gets constantly referenced in ST. it's an aesthetic inspiration: small town, townsfolk doesn't know about the HorrorsTM, kids riding around on bikes taking it into their own hands etc. they also took massive inspiration for Vecna and his visions -> classic Pennywise move. but even more specific things, like the balloons at the snowball exploding in blood, or the painting plot of receiving a love confession that gets attributed to the wrong person, are IT plot points

also easy to catch is, the Talisman, by Stephen King, since it gets read out loud by the end of s4. it will for sure somehow play into s5. even just with it's main premise being two worlds that are identical mirrors of each other and having to defeat the evil on the other side to save your own

those two parallels are obvious. but as someone who read Way too much Stephen King growing up, those two are not the only two works that were referenced heavily in the writer's room

for example: Carrie has crazy parallels to ST, especially El and Henry and the concept of powers as a whole. a really quick rundown of themes that get reflected in ST or even incorporated to some degree: (short, because i'll make an actual in depth post on this when i finally find the time to reread it properly)

the religious imagery and fanatic religious followers, the way powers seem to work to begin with (with negative vs. positive emotion as their source playing a big role), the way people respond to the powers (fear, attributing them to a demonic source, isolation as both punishment And a breaking point for Carrie) her relationship with her mother (an abusive parent), bullying tying into powers, and of course, Carrie's main rampage the book is famous

BUT. what i think is one of the biggest parallels on the show for how obvious it is -> the lab and El as a whole are 1000% inspired by Firestarter. i'm so serious it's not even a small reference. it's literally the exact same in large parts

the parallels of ST to Firestarter are absolutely Insane so to show how OH it is, here's the general plot summary of Firestarter (spoilers):

a couple takes part in an experiment while in college because they need the money. (can't remember if it was MKultra explicitly or just implied but yeah, it's MKultra) as a side effect of the substances and hallucinogenics (LSD) they were given the mother develops minor telekinetic powers and the dad has some form of mind persuasion abilities afterwards. they go home with the money, however, get continuously observed by the organization to monitor any additional effects but then they have a daughter who has Big psychic powers because of the tests done on them. the organization who did the original experiment finds out and tries to take the girl. (the mom dies as the husband and child manage to flee) long story short, after being on the run for a while, the daughter gets taken by the men and locked up in a lab facility. where she's confined to a room, has guards that keep her from leaving, and has to participate in "tests" where scientists try to figure her powers out. especially intense though is the director of the organization, who becomes obsessed with her and her powers while at the lab, the man, who was hired to kidnap her in the first place, now takes interest in her and assumes the identity of a worker in the facility, a janitor, to appear more harmless and get access to her. he manages to gain her trust with this disguise and convinces her to actually demonstrate her powers, which have become incredibly powerful and destructive after some HorrorsTM she witnessed prior later she manages to escape the facility when her dad shows up to get her back. however the "janitor" claiming to be her friend kills her father which causes her to express powers on a level never seen before with which she kills both the "janitor" in disguise and the obsessed organization leader (while also having almost everyone present in the building die as a result of her exploding it and any military vehicle approaching as she escapes) PS: she and her dad hide out from the organization in an old abandoned cabin of his in the woods for an extended period of time PSS: the book ends with her going to a newspaper and planning to reveal what has been going on at the lab to blow their cover and get them to finally stop hunting her down

it's LITERALLY THE LAB. IT IS. it's one of THE most obvious parallels in ST imo and i'm shocked i've never seen Anyone bring it up (also need to reread the book soon and make a longer post about it because there's SO much there) but this is literally the conception and later downfall of the lab in s1-2. and now with s4 it even covers some of the general conditions there with the tests and guards and Henry and. just. hhh. it's the SAME. Brenner, Henry, Hopper, Terry, and El are all in this book

also fun fact: the book is called Firestarter bc the girl is able to, duh, start fires. but it later turns out that her powers actually Aren't just pyrokinesis. she has general powers (very similar to Carrie). the fires only happen because of the insane energy levels she's able to channel, they're just the Side product. she can also just use normal telekinesis -> even robs an airport coin telephone at one point (El stealing is fun Hopper and Will let's commit fraud Byers would be proud of her)

Stephen King books like IT and Carrie seem like obvious inspirations for some elements of ST. but Firestarter especially is such an obvious inspiration and for Sure the blueprint of Hawkins lab it's not even funny. Stephen King in general seems to be a BIG influence on ST as a whole which makes sense with the way the Duffers talked about him before...

but i'm so serious, when i say Stephen King is probably the place where you'll consistently find The Most ST references and spoilers for future plot points, i MEAN it

#watching ST for the first time in 2019 coming right out of my Stephen King phase and having read a dozen of his books #''hm this seems oddly familiar...'' #no but i'm serious the parallels and straight up references are sooooo they're so out there #i really need to get around to finally rereading some of them #there's tons more parallels i didn't even touch on here #stranger things #st analysis #ST and King #<- tagging this for when i finally reread and start going in depth on this #el hopper #henry creel #<- IT is a general ST inspiration #but Firest. and Carr. are specifically about El Henry powers and the Lab

[homesickghoul]

Ascending Heaven

Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson / Reader (fem) tw everything (nsfw, gore, horror, dubious consent, torture, dead dove: no not eat, cosmic horror, suicide themes, substance abuse and addiction, hurt no comfort etc) proceed with this in mind originally published by gghouleh in AO3 2021-09-25 -> ongoing Chapter 1

Birds are chirping and the gentle autumn breeze embraces your face, one that has already started to lose its tan. The days have turned shorter, darker, colder – much earlier than ever before, or so it feels to you. It’s odd, things feel different, emptier. Colors are greyer.

Some things never change, like the leaves that turn to shades of orange, some already falling off the branches, but the scenery still, in its decaying form resembles a painting from the better days. But even with the weather getting harsher, the golden sun smiling down onto earth is still enough to keep the air comfortably warm, allowing the most dedicated ones to keep dressing in their tiny crop tops and thin, colorful cardigans. Halloween is right around the corner, the sideways and porches quickly filling up with carved, bright orange pumpkins, and of course, the myriad of different decorations; like those plastic skeletons and zombies rising from the dirt and neatly mowed lawns.

On your way home, or more like; your dorm room, with each step you keep reminding yourself of its temporality. One more year, it would pass quickly. One day you’d wake up and all of this would be over. You walk past a group of kids gossiping and giggling about their costume ideas for later today, and you can’t help but to overhear the obvious classics: witches, little riding hoods and super mans. A smile takes place on your face, the group reminding you of the golden times of your own childhood. The good old times. That is if you try your hardest to ignore the parts that weren’t so peachy. You sound like an old lady. You shake off the thought. Fall has always been your favorite season next to summer, and not only cause of the weather but Halloween too, even now as a so-to-say-grown-up. It’s friday, you have the weekend off school, free from studying; you had promised to relax, but as a full-time student there's pretty much no way to acquire true peace, not really. It’s not only Samhain that’s due.

Growing up in a small town where everyone knew one another, their cousins and for fucks sake, even their best friend’s pet rock by name, caused you to be grateful for the fact that in this new town you were just a stranger to most. That, oh so, mysterious someone who they could get a glimpse of, never figuring out more than they were given. You prefer to stay in your own company, just making a few friends out of your classmates. After cutting almost all ties to your hometown, you try your best to forget about the past. It no longer haunts you like it used to.

Even with all those new people around you, after that desired fresh start in life, there is, still, this massive, unfillable hole in your chest that keeps leaking, leaving an ugly print everywhere you go. To fill it, you tried men, women too, quickly learning how it only made you feel worse about yourself. Alcohol, those fifty-fifty cocktails did the job for a bit, made you forget and bear the agony of being alive. Studying and working so hard that you did not have any extra time to get lost in thought, but God, it made you so damn tired, an empty, burned out shell. But guess for that exact reason everything, for a moment, was perfectly fine. It did its job. And you were fine. You slowly started to understand the people back home – though you didn’t want to. The thought made you disgusted, despise yourself a little more each day. You would never be like them. Chasing after something you cannot name or place, you lost the grip for a bit. But it’s fine, too, you’d always land on your feet. Mom said that once, you think. You’re holding too much, where would you put it? Sometimes you think about calling home. You almost pick up the phone. You didn't. Who would answer, anyway? _________________________________ Old, bad habits make an appearance every now and then. Standing in the kitchen, in the middle of a Halloween party, trying to quit drinking, you really are, but your friends drunk and having the time of their lives right next to you, makes declining nearly impossible.   You’re not going to be young forever, is what you keep hearing. But in that case, and in all honesty, you feel like you’ve lived enough. “Relax, it’s going to be fine.” Your friend keeps giggling while gulping down some mysterious liquid from a red plastic cup. ” It’s just one drink.” “It’s Halloween.” She continues her mission to make you loosen up a little, not quite understanding the damage she’s causing, which only proves your point – none of these people know you, and you don’t let them.

A man dressed as a mummy bumps into you and doesn’t even bother to say sorry. Something ticks. God, maybe you are just that easy. You cringe and bring the plastic cup into contact with your dolled up lips. Fuck it. It’s Halloween after all, could be the very last one, because who knows with all those Ghostface murders going on.

So, even with all these warning signs flashing red and screaming danger, call it the voice of reason if you will, you pour a drink, another one even, gain some confidence that actually has been lurking underneath the surface all this time and dance till your legs ache. You had borrowed your girl pal’s old costume from last year, too busy and maybe a little lazy, to make your own.

Flashes of red and blue, glitter on your skin. Stranger’s hands on your body, seeking, searching, inpatient on your skin, wondering what you’re hiding underneath your clothing, desire, lust, whispering sweet things in your ear, an angel on your left shoulder, devil on the other. Too bad though. You’re fixated onto the blasting music, your earthly body drunken, higher mind fleeing somewhere beyond, to a world with only goodness and happiness. Everything is good. Really. You’re not afraid. At least not as much as many others are. You know about the killings, the bloodbaths that were happening all around the campus and in the little student town surrounding it. Just earlier this week the police had gotten themselves a new suspect. That made things calmer around the campus. Nothing bad had happened since then – guess that’s why people agreed into having the party. No, it would have happened either way. Who’s to tell students not to party? Yeah, they could try. But as you dance, you feel untouchable, invincible even. Punch is spiked with too much vodka, you can’t taste it anymore, it’s like sipping water. You remember that actually being a symptom of blacking out. That’s when you’re supposed to stop – actually, a good few drinks before that point would be ideal. It’s alright, you don’t care, not right now. You want it. You need, crave it, this. You wonder why you ever stopped.

You dance till you can’t go on. Till you need a break. The party is still very much alive when you decide to wander up the stairs and escape into your and your roommate’s little hobbit hole to clear your head, cause knowing yourself, it is bound that sooner or later you'd most likely do something you'd regret. Your room is dark, only some dim fairy lights giving a faint glow on the painted walls, allowing you to see where you step. You have just enough time turn on the light before you get yanked from behind. You think it’s Janet, your roommate, trying to pull a funny prank on you – just like last year. It wasn’t funny back then, but looking at it now, you view it as a happy memory. “Jan, I’m not fee-“

You land on your back, finding yourself fighting for your life as a stranger, dressed head to toe in black, hiding behind a cheap screaming Halloween mask, tries to poke your eye out with a very real looking hunting knife. He slices your right arm as you go to block the blow. Blood gushes down onto your face and for a second you simply lay there, on the floor of your room, your safe heaven from the cruel floor, stunned. Soon enough the basic survival instincts kick in and without making a conscious choice to do so, you kick, bite and scream. Only the alcohol invading your system eases some of the pain that your body experiences now in nonstop.

The sounds of the party, music and laughter echo from behind the door, muffling perfectly your cries of help. It’s almost comedic, mimicking a scene straight from a slasher horror movie. Michael Myers wannabe.

But never in a million years you expected to meet your doom this way; in a stupid party with your classmates and a punch of strangers, everyone high or drunk off their asses.

You’d probably laugh about it if you were able to, but as the man above presses down on your windpipe and pins you down, a complete desperation starts to kick in, your vision going blurry and the sound of music dies. Instead, what you hear is a mix of your own heart beating, heavy breathing, and the blood gushing in your ears.

It would remind you of the humming of the seas if only the time and the place were different. Instead, you’re, um, drowning in the odd sensations, like experiencing your pulse in places you’ve never felt it before and probably shouldn’t without dying, so, without doubt, that building pressure in and behind your eyes, throat and chest must be one the most unpleasant sensations you’ve ever felt. And not very healthy.

The amount of will to live in you surprises you, although all the way from the start, somewhere in the back of your head, you acknowledged and agreed into the slim chances of survival, the terms and conditions. All these years of apparently lying how you wouldn’t mind. It comes when it comes. We’ll, the Grim Reaper is knocking on your door, ready to reap and collect, and you would do anything for it to go away. You’re not ready. You lied. This isn’t what you want. The knife cuts your chest even though you’re doing your best to kick and push your attacker away, but nothing seems to work and now starting to fully panic, you don’t really registering much anymore. Not really longer feeling your toes or your fingertips, cold sweat forming on your skin, and you just know that the knife hovering above your chest is just seconds away from sinking into your flesh for good. You’ve heard of animals, people too, going numb in the face of certain death, and right now, it’s oddly comforting. So, without thinking and fingers slippery from blood, you let go, not fully accepting your fate, but simply growing tired from the loss of blood. You experience this cold, stinging, sharp pain as your gut greets the blade. It causes you to cry out.

Knowing for a fact that Ghostface is looking down on you from behind his bloody mask, you stare at him with glossed, weak eyes, trying to get a glimpse of something, perhaps, human. There is absolutely nothing there. Seconds feel like eternity, and for a moment it's completely silent, but you’re probably just imagining it.

“Why?” You whisper, voice cracking and breaking. You don’t expect to have time to hear the answer as you are rapidly bleeding out from the blows before,  withering away from reality as you know it. “Unlucky timing.” He answers. Unlucky timing, that’s all, nothing more, nothing less. At the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s unfair. You don’t deserve this, right? But oh, oh, the fact how you are just a silly little victim, when you are a living breathing thing, how casual it’s for him, fuck, how he said it, what he meant: how you are but a bag of meat for him, and how you’d simply become one of the many lost to the murder spree, but years would go by and no one would remember, you’d be nothing but one more murdered college girl: it gets your spirit fuming, and for a second you think it’s enough to keep you going. You are wrong. This is karma. It's not what you want. You wanted more; of what? You didn’t even get to find out. You barely even got to live; you now understand. So, as your last act on this earth, you hang onto Ghostface’s arm when he goes to pull out the knife but manage to keep it in place, just a little longer. Purely out of spite. It’s almost like he allows you to do so.

You never feel him get off you or remember letting go yourself. Instead, you have this distant memory of coughing dark blood from your filled lungs. Life never flashed before your eyes; you remember thinking. Just a myth. Just a stupid, massive lie that they feed to people to glamorize death in movies. You never see the world-famous bright light at the end of a tunnel either; another tale to make people on their deathbeds be a little less frightened of the inescapable death. That’s right, walk into the light, Timmy, it is the gates of Heaven, Paradise after all those good years you spent on planet earth being a good little sinner.

No light, no flames of hell, nothingness, void. There is nothing, you see absolutely nothing as the dark, endless void consumes you. That’s the worst part of it, you are so very alone. It’s cold. You feel like crying, but your body is no longer there, or to better describe it, you are, no longer in it. Do not go gentle into that good night. ... You wake up, and before your eyes see a strange campsite and on your left a fire that doesn’t feel warm. It’s hell after all, you suppose.

#ghostface x y/n #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #dbd #dead by daylight #danny johnson #jed olsen #fanfic #slasher #danny johnson x you #danny johnson x reader

[holyhomo]

Would you consider Viveka a psychopath or a narcissist? (Undiagnosed obviously)

If so, would that have been passed down to any of her children? Their childhoods probably messed them up so what do they suffer from?

Also, was Freya the one that suggested throwing her kids at nannies and basically being detached from their lives? Did Viveka and Freya condone/look the other way the physical abuse they most likely went through? (i.e poor signe’s ass)

Well, Viveka is loosely based on Norman Bates, from American Psycho. I think that says a lot. Oh and she’s not the one with a substance abuse problem nor is she the one who has treated to kill others. That’s someone else you guys already know in Nightshift Nightmare. But who she is is a MASSIVE spoiler for a upcoming arc.

As for their children, they inherited some traits of Viveka (and obviously her appearance), but it’s only mindset and traits, no actual mental illnesses.

That said, they all definitely have mental health issues.

They all have self esteem issues, but besides that their issues vary.

Gunhildr suffers from dysthymia, PTSD and used to suffer from ODD and severe suicidal ideations. She was also an alcoholic, but stopped drinking pretty much completely after she went through the traumatic event that caused her PTSD. I’ve made some comments that could make it possible to figure out what happened, but I’ll share that it happened two years ago in the story.

Ragna doesn’t have narrsitric personality disorder, but does have some traits of it, though that has been going well since she started therapy. She tends to be overstressed and is the type to just drag herself through a burnout even though she suffers even more from doing so.

Ylva suffered from depression and anxiety, but that’s been going very well lately. She also had a lot of trouble forming healthy relationships. She’s also mentioned to have some minor substance abuse issues, she basically starts drinking and smoking when she gets stressed and depressed.

Signe has major relationship related issues and has severe trouble forming healthy romantic relationships with others. Besides that she has a learning disorder but I never really settled on what kind specifically.

Sigird has severe Atychiphobia (fear of failure) and some serious narcissistic traits very similar to her father.

Other characters also have mental health issues. From Eira’s obvious anxiety disorder and stuttering, to Iris also suffering from PTSD due to the same event as what caused Gunhildr’s PTSD.

Another character that I won’t spoil, suffers from Othello Syndrome, also known as Pathological jealousy. This is the same character as the one mentioned to have a substance abuse problem and who has treated to kill others.

As for the nannies… I need to be careful not to spoil something here…

So it was mainly a necessity. Viveka did fucking nothing regarding raising their kids besides trying to groom initially Gunhildr and then Ragna to be the heir by having them study hours on end.

Until the twins they just had general house help for the children, but after the twins, nannies became an absolute necessity. Each of the sisters had their own nanny looking after them, but it depended on their age how much said nanny would take care of them.

Gunhildr’s and Ragna’s nannies were also their governess/tutors.

Ylva had the only actually nice and caring nanny, though Ragna’s and Sigird’s weren’t too bad either. Gunhildr’s was just super scared of the rage fueled young Gunni. And well Signe’s… she was just a monster.

Freya did try to intervene, but was unable to actually do anything due to her own condition at the time.

Oh and when Gunhildr left home at 16, it was to study at the same school her father did till she graduated at 18. She was being driven mad at home and acting out even more because of it which caused her father to agree to it.

#phew! what a long answer! #I do really like answering these questions so don’t worry!

[ghostcaterwaul-doesnt-write]

Could you still drop some headcanons or fic lore or other stuff from the now-discarded Metal Lords fic ft Alice? You seemed so attached to the idea and stressed out so much about it that I would like to see it in some form, if you're comfortable sharing. If not, that's obviously okay too! 🖤

Sure! Not really sure exactly what kind of information would be the most interesting, though. This got really long so I'm putting in under a read more thingy.

I kinda started out knowing some basic stuff:

Alice’s character bio

Knowing she was going to have a crush on Emily

Knowing she was eventually going to get close to Hunter

Knowing that Alice x Emily and Hunter x Kevin were both going to remain unrequited or at least unresolved. Like, in order for this fic to work, neither one of those could be endgame

Wanting to go for a queerplatonic relationship between Alice and Hunter

A scene I was dying to fit into the fic at some point was Emily being upset about something and Alice attempting to comfort her and calm her down and Emily just wanting comfort from Kevin at that moment, so Alice reluctantly goes to get Kevin, who happens to be with Hunter at the time and Kevin going to comfort Emily, right? And Hunter making a comment to Alice like “shouldn’t you be the one to do that?” and Alice saying “Emily doesn’t need me anymore. She has a boyfriend now.” and Alice’s voice is just fucking dripping with bitterness as she delivers that line of dialogue right? And I wanted that to be the moment that Hunter realizes that Alice is in love with Emily.

I wanted every conversation that Alice and Hunter had about their respective crushes to like, never include admissions of love, right? I was never going to include the dialogue “I’m in love with ____” or anything of that nature. I wanted it to be obvious to both of them that they were in similar situations by the way they talked about it with each other. I also wanted some friction here because you just know that Hunter would say something negative about Emily while venting to Alice and Alice to get super protective and vise versa.

Alice ultimately was going to end up having a stronger bond with Hunter over Emily.

It was super important to me that Hunter and Alice never got romantically involved but still formed a strong and unique bond.

I’ll be honest, I feel like queerplatonic feelings might be a little confusing as a teenager, especially if you aren’t familiar with the concept of queerplatonic relationships, because it’d be like “I feel strong feelings about this person that’s a bit more than friendship but not really romantic?” and I do kind of like the idea of Alice and Hunter actually talking about that and I’m sort of entertained by the idea of them like, trying to navigate their feelings for each other together in a that “maybe we should try kissing and see if that helps us figure it out?” sort of way, only to be like “No, that felt weird, we shouldn’t have done that. Why did we do that?” immediately after like, an innocent peck on the lips or something (they definitely joke about this later on). I do want them to eventually just settle on “this thing we have is special and important to both of us but not romantic or sexual in any way” and just like, being okay with that and appreciating that they found that with each other?

It was also super important to me that Alice and Hunter are physically affectionate towards one another in a strictly platonic way.

Platonic cuddle/nap dates definitely become a thing.

I’ve mentioned on my main that Alice is secretive about a lot of stuff and kind of closed off and all that. She starts to open up to Hunter about a lot of things, and it starts off as like, a petty spite thing against Emily. She tells Hunter stuff that she feels like she should have already opened up to Emily about (for example, her music and art and even her self-harm and substance abuse issues among other things) because she feels like Emily has abandoned her for Kevin and this starts as like, her subtle way of getting back at Emily for the perceived abandonment.

Her substance abuse eventually causes a lot of friction between her and like, everyone, but mostly her and Hunter. Especially when her habits start to intensify.

So, I have a headcanon that Hunter is one of those people that hates the smell of weed, right? Like, he can tolerate it to a certain extent but he will definitely complain about it, at least a little bit. Alice is a stoner. He’s definitely gonna bitch a little every time she lights up a joint or something around him.

I did eventually want Alice to form some sort of friendship with Kevin. I had the idea of Kevin maybe trying a weed edible for the first time and getting the paranoia and stuff and Emily calls Alice for help because she’s aware Alice is at least familiar with edibles and weed, right? And Alice reluctantly helps Kevin through his first edible trip, because Emily asked. While high, Kevin gushes to Alice about how much he loves Emily and she actually finds it endearing and just kind of decides “you know what? he loves her and makes her happy and it doesn’t seem like I have to worry about him doing anything to hurt her, so I’m just gonna accept their relationship even though it hurts like hell.” He also makes her promise not to tell Hunter that he got stoned, and she keeps this promise. This was one of those scenes that didn't really make it into the "official outline" of what I definitely wanted to happen but it was in a secondary outline of events that were like, "maybe this could happen?" I had a lot of "maybe" scenes.

The more notes I make on Alice and the more I wrote in the draft I started, the more I start to realize Alice might be autistic. Which makes sense because autistic people do have a tendency to gravitate towards each other and I mean… *gestures at Skullflower*

There’s sooo much more but this is already super long so if you want to know something specific, I probably have an answer for you. I have like, pages and pages of notes for this. I’m a little sad that I can’t seem to make this fic work. When I read all this back, it’s not that Alice doesn’t fit in with the canon characters or in the world, I just can’t seem to figure out how to tell this story, I think. I don’t know. Something with this just wasn’t working. Maybe info-dumping about it all more on here will help me make sense of why this fic doesn’t seem to want to be written.

#I honestly could have kept going and made this answer twice as long #this doesn't even go into like the actual plot outline really this is just random notes I made in a google doc tbh #i have so many separate google docs related to this fic #not sure how to tag this tbh #possibly abandoned wip lore #? #oc lore #?? #oc: alice hansen #i get super excited when I think about this fic but I go to write it and my brain decides it wants to fight me and idk why

[survivingsober]

Addiction: The Stigma, The Facts. The Hope

Everyone has heard of addiction, but what exactly does it mean? How do you know if someone you love is struggling with drug or alcohol abuse? What are the most effective ways to help someone who’s battling addiction? Addiction affects millions of people in America every year, and it’s important to understand what it really means, how it affects both the addict and the loved ones around them, and how you can help yourself or your loved one to get better.

Stigmatization - Why It's So Common

Stigmatization is one thing that is the UGLIEST about this world, YET we are ALL guilty of it in some way, shape, or form. We ALL make assumptions or judgments from first glance, but what happens when something innocent goes to far?  The Oxford describes stigmatization as the action of describing or regarding someone or something as worthy of disgrace or great disapproval. I want to add that it's of a certain group or type of people that have something in common. Some would even go as far as to call it.. DISCRIMINATION. What separates the two though? Stigma is a discrimination against because of an obvious and distinguishing mental health issue, according to many websites- so many I refuse to give one all the credit! You can see one here .

 Stigmatization creates more fear and does more harm than ever should be caused. People have lost their lives because of our failure to educate ourselves better instead of judging.

Common Misconceptions

We have been taught that addiction is a lack of will power or thee individual is characteristically flawed. Today, I want to clear up that myth and all the ones like it. It's true that people are scared of what they don't know or understand, and let me tell ya, even as a recovering addict- addiction is still hard to understand. Addiction makes people do and say things they normally wouldn't, sometimes to degrading degrees! It's hard to imagine something having that strong of a hold over you that it changes your entire moral build. Thus, stigmatization of addicts is born. Most individuals who are addicted harbor a strong regret inside them and they become depressed and because of this they will refuse to seek treatment. Being an addict doesn't mean you are a bad person by any means! Some of us make decisions that are very poorly decided upon and that alone is a stigmatization of it's own. Just because ONE person who is addicted made a poor judgment, doesn't mean every person addicted will do the same. One thing about being an addict that I can say NEVER changes is your heart. If someone has a genuinely good heart, no addiction in the world can change that. Society is too judgmental and let me say this, if we had to walk around this world ONLY able to see the real hearts of people around us.... Well, this post wouldn't be written, that's a fact.

Some Shocking Stats on Substance Abuse

According to Drug Abuse Statistics [3]drugabusestatistics.org, This is Americans 12 years old and older for these statistics back in 2020.

 - 50% of people 12 and older have used illicit drugs at least once.

 - 700K Drug overdose ending in death since 2000 nearing 1 MILLION!

 - The Federal Budget for drug control was $35 BILLION in 2020

 - 25.4% of users 12 and over have a drug disorder.

 - 24.7% of those who have a drug disorder have an opioid disorder or prescription drug disorder

 - 138.522 MILLION Americans 12 and over drink Alcohol

 - 570,255MILLION use tobacco or Nicotine Products (vape)

What Is Addiction?

No matter where you get the definition for it, addiction is so much more than just what your dictionaries tell you in their nice little bow wrapped boxes. The books say addiction is a chronic, relapsing brain disorder in which an individual continues to use substances or engage in activities no matter the harmful, destructive consequences. I can't argue with that very much, but there is always more to the story than what they like to tell ya know? You don't hear the stories of the agonizing physical pain a person is in without using that substance. The many many trips to the bathroom they take because their stomach is messed up so bad they can't even use the bathroom! The feeling of being stuffed in a small box unable to move or even breathe because the anxiety is so bad. I can VIVIDLY remember the very first time I knew I was "dope sick". I didn't have any idea why I wasn't getting better only getting worse day after day. I laid in my grandparents bed, praying to die because I was so miserable. That was when I knew I had a problem after I had managed to get back to my house and somehow ended up getting something and doing it, I WAS CURED INSTANTLY! That feeling knowing what I had really done to myself hit me. I was 19 years old and only been on my own (out of my grandparents' house) one year.

Nobody talks about when you feel so bad that you would literally do anything to feel better. Crying and begging your mom/grandma to just make it better; I can only imagine their feelings knowing they can't do anything. I was always the type of person who felt like a brand new person ass soon as I knew I was about to feel better. My grandpa use to tell me it was all in people's minds who were addicted. I hated to hear him say that because I thought I knew better because of the physical part... Of course back then, I would've ran my head through hell fire before I would've owned up to him that I was anything short of an angel, but he knew better. I'm still mending that relationship along with many more to this day, 11 years later.

 

Understanding Addiction

One thing is for certain, nobody asks for any of this to happen to them. I didn't, I thought I was just having some fun and I would be okay. Addiction creeps up on you, like a thief in the night. You think a time or two won't hurt and before you know it'[s 10 years later and you HAVE TO HAVE that drug you were playing with just to feel NORMAL! After so long of using your body gets a tolerance and you don't even get high anymore. Around that time is when you can safely say- You are in trouble! That one or two little pills or whatever turns into 10 or 12 a day just so you don't feel bad. The last two years of me using I can't tell you when I was ever high. I was just a normal person doing normal things only if I didn't have my drug of choice I wasn't moving, eating, cleaning, nothing.

Then of course ya know when you feel bad, you dang sure don't care how ya look either. I remember my brother looking at me one Christmas and the words that came out of his mouth just- they still break my heart because I can still see the look in his eyes when he said, "that's not my sister." I didn't look like his little sister anymore. I didn't dress up, I didn't do my hair or make up. I looked horrible. I was ashamed to tell anyone because I knew how they would feel toward me and I was right for the most part, but they never gave up on me. It takes a lot to try to understand anything from someone else's point of view especially something so destructive. It's not something we choose to grow up to be. Some people just don't know anything else because they were exposed to it all their lives. Society has got to do better towards addiction and stop pretending like people wait their whole lives to jump out in the streets and do what they do to get high. I promise you, that is NOT AT ALL how it came to pass. Not one person will tell you when they were 5 they wanted to be a prostitute or a heroin addict. These people don't need nor want your judgement- they need your help and support. To know they are not alone and someone cares is all an addict wants in the world.

Ending the Cycle of Addiction

There IS hope for people who are enslaved by addiction. It's a tough fight, especially if you're stuck in a never ending cycle. The get clean for a few months and then right back to using and failing into old habits is probably the most irritating and most sad part of all to me. It took me what seemed like forever to get clean and stay clean without going back to my old ways. It was like I would see the light and after i got so close someone turned the lights back off on me. I never could figure it out and I felt so defeated- I just wanted to give up. But the thing about it was, I wasn't changing anything else: my environment, my circle of friends, nothing. It took my husband and I moving 400 miles away from home almost flat broke for it to stick. You see, the people and places I was hanging with and out at were triggers for me. The only way to avoid relapse is to eliminate the things that trigger you to use to start with.

Emotions play a big role too. So, I had to find what triggered me and replace it with a better and healthier habit. Meditation helped me keep my mind clear and not stay so stressed out along with coloring. I will always say that my biggest downfall and worst trigger is my mental state- my depression is very severe and sometimes I end up having Britney Breakdowns and those can go on for days! Coloring saved my life! It kept me grounded and relieved so much stress and anxiety. I really recommend it to everyone who asks me how I managed to avoid relapse. Your diet along with exercise is another great way to break the cycle. Not everyone is going to have the same triggers so it's important to find out what makes you want to use and replace using with a better habit so you can defeat that trigger. I encourage everyone to replace their old friends with a better support system - you can still be friends with the old people BUT from a far at least till you can get a hold of those triggers because it's only going to take ONE slip up and that's it. Addiction is so easy to fall back into. And the people you use to hang with that are still using, they aren't gonna care that you are clean - that doesn't affect them so don't think they are going to have some great respect for you and your situation. Sadly this is one fight your friends aren't going to follow you on. That's why it's detrimental to your sobriety to replace them with a great support team, people who do care about you and your well being.

I know finding these triggers are hard and sometimes you won't even realize something is triggering you, so I have put together a little worksheet for you to help you figure out what your triggers are. I hope you enjoy the worksheet and find it helpful in your journey! I do hope this post helps someone who needs it especially those who don't know very much about addiction. Until next time my lovelies and never forget, YOU ARE WORTH YOUR RECOVERY! Never let anyone tell you any different!

trigger worksheet can be downloaded here!

#Addiction #SurvivingSobeer #wedorecover #youareworthit #addictshelpingaddicts

[flickeringart]

Pluto retrograde in the natal chart

I have written a post about the social-transpersonal planets and what they mean for an individual who have them retrograde in the natal chart here.

In this post I’m exploring Pluto Rx a bit further.

Generally speaking it is Pluto energy that is being felt if you feel emotionally drained or violated after interactions with certain people or visiting certain places or experiencing certain events. He is always present, but some people only ever awaken to him when crisis strikes – when there’s loss, sickness, threat, violation, destruction happening in a very obvious way. In actuality, death is happening every day of our lives. Pluto is the invisible and undetected power that governs our souls. He is the power that underlies our decisions and actions on a soul level. Pluto is essentially a binding force– you have felt his presence when you couldn’t break free from toxicity, when you felt trapped in a certain pattern (internal or external), when you felt violated (by external or internal forces), forced to succumb, forced to live through something painful and destructive. You have also felt him when you were freed from the influence of certain people, substances or obsessions. He is ruthless and merciless because he is death in one form or another. The power of Pluto is not personal – no individual owns it or possesses it more than another. When there’s identification with this absolute force it can wreck havoc in our lives – making us feel invincible and able to coerce and manipulate life energies in our favor. Identification with Pluto can cause hubris, abuse of power and excessive confidence. Projection/externalization of Pluto can cause feelings of powerlessness and subsequent victimhood or victimization. In a sense, everyone yearns for this kind of power because it is magnetizing and full of life. It has the ability to resurrect as well as to kill. From a perspective of being dis-entangled with form – Pluto is completely benign. He frees life that has become stuck in inferior-unworthy or expired form.

People who have Pluto direct in their charts feel this power within them and exercise it directly. They can impose their energy on the environment and the people they interact with. They draw energy to themselves like magnets, not consciously, but naturally – Pluto acts like a vortex that sucks life in and pushes it back out. Obviously, some people are more magnetic than others and it would be reflected by the specific chart placement and contacts Pluto makes to personal planets. Nonetheless, all individuals with Pluto direct have the ability to draw energy in, to take something from the outside that sustains them on a psychic level. All this happens automatically. For people with Pluto direct, the impulse to feed off of other people’s life energy comes naturally. Interaction is an opportunity to establish impact and dominance (whether this is conscious or not depends). Typically, people tend to think of dominance and submission in black and white terms when they are really one and the same. They are two sides of the same coin. There’s not really a power imbalance between the two, the dominance could not happen without the submission and vice versa. In all relationships there’s a dance of dominance and submission – everyone knows on some level (although it might be heavily suppressed) that there’s no such thing as ultimate power and that what is done in terms of power to another being is also happening to the person wielding the power. There is no real separation.

For people with Pluto Rx in their charts, it is not natural to take energy from the environment – to draw energy to the self in order to feed the soul. As with all planets in retrograde, the energy is turned inwardly and takes on another dimension. Some sources I’ve come across states that Pluto Rx creates difficulty with wielding one’s own power, a heightened inner sensitivity to obstacles and a difficulty acknowledging and moving through traumatic experiences. It also tends to make people less aware of their own desire for power and more paranoid that they’re being manipulated, taken advantage of and betrayed. This seem to be true in my own experience of meeting people with Pluto Rx – they are more aware of the invisible workings of power, how forces can get into their minds and control them from within. They are very guarded on an inner level as opposed to being openly protective and domineering on the outside. In fact, these people are likely to be concerned that if they show their power, the extent of it and its true nature – this will be to their disadvantage. It is particularly rewarding to compare people with Pluto in the first house because Pluto is a part of the outwardly displayed persona and will show up in an obvious way. By doing this I’ve observed and sensed the typical guardedness with both people, but I don’t feel drained around the retrograde Pluto as I can with Pluto direct. There’s power to both people, but in different ways. With Pluto direct I feel like if I were to overstep a boundary, that I would have somewhat of a psychic attack on my hands. The open disdain and invisible resentment would “poke” at me energetically. With Pluto Rx, if I overstepped a boundary they would react internally by taking control of their own reaction – they would turn inwardly and build intensity until it would burst some time afterwards, seemingly “randomly” and without connection to the situation at hand.

Pluto Rx people are prone to shrink from confrontation with the more intense aspects of reality because they have a hard time accessing their own power. The inner fear of collapsing psychologically and emotionally is more real for them than for people with Pluto direct. In the case of the people with Pluto direct, they usually expect to be able to spot when power is being exercised and trust their own ability to regenerate after being bruised and broken, if it were to come to that. People with Pluto direct expect Pluto to show up in a straightforward way (although this energy in itself is hardly straight forward in its manifestations). People with Pluto Rx fear that they won’t be able to recover from the traumas of life because they can’t trust Pluto to work for them in a way that makes sense. This is something that has bothered me tremendously with having Pluto in Rx in my own chart. The inner ordeals I go through doesn’t seem to be recognized as such from the outside – I live with them constantly and I’m only seen as “sensitive” never thick-skinned or powerful when I know that the things I go through internally are real and considerable difficult. I have to ability to feel powerful and recognize my inner strength and resilience, but it’s not translated into external existence. Retrogrades are said to be more intimately experienced by the individual and I believe this is true. Some state that they are experienced on a more “spiritual” level, which I guess could be an accurate way of putting it, if spiritual means “intangible” experience and subtler dimensions. Some would simply say that the planetary principle is “lacking” from the individual – which is to say that it is rendered useless and ineffectual.

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I have come across sources that state that people with Pluto Rx can be extremely effectual during crises – not in terms of “powering through and surviving” but in terms of staying calm and cultivating inner resilience instead of taking the reigns and forcefully steering toward one’s own death because of the need to stay in control externally. There are benefits to sitting tight and building intensity in some situations, although the withholding could also be self-destructive. The meanness and “evil” that can sometimes show up with people who have Pluto direct when their power has been threatened is not something that will show up in Pluto Rx people. They don’t “revenge” in the same way and would never openly admit to their need for control – to take “revenge” is in some sense due to weakness and a display of emotional enslavement. Pluto Rx’s inner familiarity with the plutonic forces and independence in violation and regeneration makes it so that they don’t take or draw energy from the outside. They isolate their inner process of destruction and rebirth. This might cause people on the outside to wonder if there’s any survival urge in these people, if they can take by force when it is “necessary”. There is in fact a very strong will to survive with Pluto Rx, it’s simply an inner process – an inner fight – rather than an outer one, and possibly a delayed response to threat which can be violently imploding. The “enemy” is always around, luring in the shadows, waiting to grab these people by the neck, metaphorically speaking. This doesn’t seem to be the case for people with Pluto direct to the same extent. They know of power, they take it for granted. But, this also means that they are less intimate with it, less insightful of how it works.

The marked difference with people with Pluto Rx/direct I’ve encountered is that there’s no complaint of being “preyed upon” energetically by the people with Pluto direct… This is very interesting to take note of because it would indicate that Pluto Rx have a harder time accessing their own psychic-emotional power and use it actively instead of passively. Pluto Rx people seem to be on guard in order to avoid and protect themselves as opposed to going in and asserting their own influence. Curiously, Pluto Rx people seem to assume that they are less powerful than others because they can only reflect on their strength in hindsight. They are certainly not “lacking”, from my observation, not on a soul level – but the lack of “proof” in everyday life can cause feelings of powerlessness.

In order to illustrate a bit better, let’s look at some examples of people with Pluto Rx vs. Pluto direct in the 1st house of Self. This is the house that represents people’s persona and physical presence. The famous actor Leonardo DiCaprio has Pluto (direct) in Libra in his 1st house. He has quite a magnetic presence to him and one can tell that he has a strong effect on other people. He is a bit of a smooth talking devil, quite charming and socially pleasant as is typical of Libra – yet he has that Pluto intensity to him as well. He knows that he is powerful and influential – you can tell from the way he presents himself that he has a lot of confidence. Maryl Streep is another great example of Pluto (direct) in Leo in the 1st house. She is the ultimate diva, quite protruding and demanding in her presence – she needs to be seen as special. She’s perfectly suited for playing powerful female characters that are rude, entitled and domineering. She is certainly no stranger to power and influence. To contrast these two people, let’s bring our minds to the actress Renée Zellweger who has Pluto Rx in Virgo in her 1st house. She doesn’t come off as overbearing or intimidating in her presence – she’s humble which is typical of Virgo, uncomfortable getting too much attention and is dedicated to her “work” and process of making a project complete rather than the abstract glamour of movie-making (she also has a Sun-Saturn conjunction, which contributes to the self-deprecating streak in her). Another good example is the actress Jessica Lange who has Pluto Rx in Leo in her 1st house. She is much more “hidden” in her body language than Maryl Streep who has the same placement but Pluto direct. They both have the same Leonine glow to them, but it seems to me when watching them that Lange is building intensity rather than projecting it. Both Renée and Jessica’s vulnerability is quite obvious– they both have an attractive strength that stems from their lack of outward energetic projection. Paradoxically, their obvious vulnerability is fascinating and addictive. It makes people curious.

What needs to be said about Pluto Rx however is that people having it in their natal charts tend to invite attack. This doesn’t have to be physical attack (it rarely is), but psychic attack or energetic/emotional attack. Whatever phrasing you prefer. Because of a more obvious vulnerability (and a more hidden strength), there’s a tendency to become a magnet for energies that are not beneficial to the integrity of one’s own energy field. I have found (as I have Pluto Rx myself), that there’s a necessity to learn how to work with these energies in order to not be drowned by them and stuck in a perpetual loop of psychic depletion. There’s a necessity to learn to feed off of toxicity, however unpleasant this sounds. Energy is energy – whatever form it comes in and it can be transmuted if worked with properly. There’s essentially a need to become an adept alchemist with Pluto Rx in order to harness power. While people with Pluto direct don’t need to learn this because it happens naturally, people with Pluto Rx are given the opportunity to truly understand the workings and processes of Pluto because it doesn’t come naturally. There’s no step-by-step formula for how to go about this, but the most important thing would be to acknowledge the darkness inside and outside and actively invite it. It might feel a bit like “choosing death”, but the thing with Pluto Rx is that those who have it have to be ruthless and unwavering because this is the true nature of Pluto in its direct expression. There can be no doubt because then there’s a loss of power (and I mean this in the psychic sense). This is why, if you have Pluto Rx, you will feel stronger with time if you apply yourself actively to improving your way of harnessing your energies. When Pluto is retrograde in the sky (like it is right now) you might find that there’s easier to work on this.

As stated in the beginning, Pluto is not a personal planet and is more of a force that works through us than being “part of us”. For this reason, it is less likely that people who don’t have Pluto aspecting any personal planets will be aware of this force. If Pluto is aspecting personal planets, however minor the aspect, the native is personally linked to this evolutionary death-survival force and has to grapple with its energies one way or another. Some are intimately connected to the lord of the underworld and will have to be personally confronted with the very foundations of life and the struggle that it means to be alive – the brutality of it, but also the riches that come from awakening and freeing stagnant energies. New life can only come to the fore through pressure and threat to the old.

#pluto #pluto in the natal chart #pluto rx #pluto rx natal #pluto direct #pluto in astrology #astrology #hades #god of the underworld #power #inner strength #psychic energies #death #transformation #regeneration #survival #life and death #pluto in the 1st house #pluto rx in the 1st house #retrograde planets #retrograde pluto #pluto retrograde #power and control #lacking power #want more power #weakness to strength #pluto aspecting personal planets #sun pluto #moon pluto #mercury pluto

[sour--disposition]

Bad Girlfriend

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harry lewis x fem!reader

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@ketamineharry suggested a harry imagine based off of Anne-Marie’s Bad Girlfriend and voila

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You cancel plans for me - I cancel ours on you - Say I'd be back early - I don't get in 'til 2 - You ask me where I've been - I tell you something vague - Think I messed up again - What can I say

You were sick and tired of Harry and his behaviour. When you first got together, you chalked his actions up to being young and dumb. And then to getting used to having more money. Then you blamed it on having to deal with so much at such a young age. 

The excuses piled up, one on top of the other. You knew one day it would all come toppling down around you, drowning you and Harry in a sea of problems that you doubted you’d be able to survive. You’d excused cheating, been by his side during hangovers from hell and comedowns that took too long to make Harry realise that the high really wasn’t worth the pain. You’d rubbed his back and handed him bottles of water and paracetamol and nursed him back to health, only for him to go and get in the same state the next weekend and expect you to help him gather the pieces back together again.

You’d tried to patch things up. Every time that you went to Harry to air all your concerns, tell him that if he doesn’t get his act together that you’d leave, and he always promised that things would be better this time. But something would always happen. There’d be plans he’d forget or cancel. He’d get too drunk and end up with hands over another girl’s body. 

“Ooh, you look nice”, Harry commented as soon as you answered his FaceTime call. “What are you doing?”, he asked you.

“I’m off out with some girls from uni tonight”, you told him as you stood up from the sofa and started gathering your things together.

“I thought you were coming over?”, he said, a small pout forming on his lips.

“Sorry”, you said nonchalantly. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah”, you told him half-heartedly.

“Yeah, whatever”, Harry huffed. “Come back here after?”, he suggested.

“Sure”, you said, a small smile on your lips. “I’ve gotta go, their taxi just pulled up. Love you”, you rushed out, hanging up and shoving your phone into your clutch, along with your keys, card and some cash.

Harry 💕: where are you it’s 11?

Harry💕: y/n c’mon i miss you

Harry💕: am i waiting up for you or not?

Harry💕: its 2am

You didn’t read the texts until you were swaying on the spot in the lift of Harry’s apartment building. Your vision was fuzzy as you tried to find the right key for their front door. “Y/N?”, Harry asked, opening the door.

“Hey”, you slurred, stumbling towards him. “I couldn’t see your key”, you told him.

“Where’ve you even been?”, Harry asked, voice dripping with distaste and disappointment.

“Here, there, everywhere”, you giggled. 

“Come on, go to bed”, Harry said sternly. “I have a shoot tomorrow and Josh will kill me if I’m late or lacking”, he told you.

“Oh, I am so very sorry”, you drawled, exaggerating all of your words, much to your own amusement.

“I’m not being funny, Y/N. Go to bed or go home”, Harry said sharply.

Your face dropped, the small square inch of your brain that was yet to be drenched in vodka and whatever else you’d been drinking lit up with anger. “Fine”, you snapped. You stormed down the hallway, sure of your footing this time and not stumbling once.

“Where are you going?”, Harry called after you.

“Home!”, you shouted, wrenching the front door open and slamming it behind you as hard as you could.

You shivered in the cold, late night wind of London as you waited on the curbside for your taxi. As soon as the car pulled up, you slid into the backseat and rattled off your address. The street lights and neon signs of London passed by in a blur of alcohol and anger and regret. “Thanks. Keep the change”, you muttered, handing a note over to the driver and getting out of the taxi.

Once you’d got back into your apartment, you changed into some pyjamas and took your make-up off as quickly as possible. You crawled under the covers, pulling them around your body and getting comfy in the middle of your bed. 

Part of you felt a little guilty for how you’d treated Harry, but a bigger part of you couldn’t find the effort to care. You’d put up with Harry acting like this for 6 years, he could tolerate you doing it once or twice.

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You wanna meet my friends - I say another day

“Another day, Harry”, you sighed, heavily, turning back to the work you were trying to get done for your classes.

“You always say that. You’ve been on this course for, like, a year”, Harry whined.

“I know but I really need to focus on work at the moment, Harry”, you told him. “I started my degree later than I wanted to anyway and then I didn’t commit to it like I should have last year because of…”, you trailed off.  “Another day”.

“Because of what?”, Harry asked, voice taking a combative edge as he sat up straighter.

“Harry, I don’t want to get into this again”, you sighed heavily, slumping into your chair.

“Well, you started it!”, he argued. “So finish your sentence. Go on!”, he goaded.

“I couldn’t commit to my degree because I was too busy looking after you!”, you shouted. “Is that what you wanted? Me to lash out? Fucking well done”, you spat. You gathered up your things as quick as you could, closing your book and shoving things into your bag.

“Where are you going now?”, Harry asked frustratedly.

“Home. I have an essay to do for next week”, you muttered as you shoved past Harry.

Things between you and Harry were only getting worse. You knew about the other girls, but the both of you just pretended that you didn’t. All of his friends saw Harry as some sheepish kid with a loud mouth girlfriend, but they never got to see the Harry that you were seeing more and more. The Harry that held things from years ago against you, the Harry that was becoming more controlling by the day, the Harry that would raise his voice when things went even slightly not his way… The Harry that wasn’t the same Harry that you fell in love with.

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'Cause I'm one in a million - More like in a billion - I don't think it's cheating if I'm kissing other women - I do some shit you can't forgive - And you better get used to it

The more you and Harry argued, the more his friends didn’t like you. They hid it well, especially Simon and Josh since you were such good friends with Talia and Freya. But you noticed the side glances you’d get anytime you laughed a little louder than usual, any time you’d say something that would make Talia or Freya cackle. You’d notice the looks that they would send Harry when you had the audacity to go and dance and your own, or when you’d be on your phone whilst everyone else was fighting to keep you out of the conversation.

You had no doubt in your mind that Harry was telling them bare-faced lies about you and hiding the truth about himself. You knew that they had no clue about Harry’s cheating, about how bad his drinking and substance abuse had truly been, how much he actually relied on you for day to day functioning. All they knew was that you were loud, argumentative and didn't give Harry the time of day when it came to uni work.

“Do you think she knows she’s punching?”, you heard Ethan ask JJ.

“I mean, it’s so obvious. Harry’s miles out of her league. C’mon man!”, JJ laughed in reply.

You looked to Harry to see his reaction. You knew he’d heard what was said, but based on the look on his face, he couldn’t care less. You didn’t need the validation from your boyfriend’s best friends, but it would be nice if your boyfriend would at least defend you or reassure you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave the table, heading towards the toilets. You were facing the mirror, touching up your hair and make-up, when Freya and Talia walked in. “What happened?”, Talia asked.

You told them what you’d heard and watched as their faces contorted into looks of horror. “Oh my god!”, Freya exclaimed. “What did Harry say!?”, she asked, coming closer to hold you hand supportively.

Your silence answered their question perfectly. “I can’t believe him”, Talia huffed, wrapping her arms around you.

“Things haven’t been great, but I never thought he’d just sit and let his best friends slag me off practically to my face”, you told them. Your eyes were watery.

“Hey, babe. Don’t let your mascara run”, a dark haired girl told you, handing you a tissue. “Whoever is letting someone slag you off is stupid”, she assured you.

“My boyfriend”, you said sadly. 

“I hate boys”, she laughed darkly, rolling her eyes, before rejoining her group of friends.

You, Talia and Freya emerged from the toilets around 5 minutes later, once you were sure that your tears had dried and weren’t going to restart. The three of you walked towards the table, Freya and Talia immediately sliding next to Josh and Simon.

“Where’s Harry?”, you asked, not seeing him anywhere. Ethan gave you a look and pointed towards the dancefloor before turning back to his conversation with JJ and Vik.

You glanced over towards the dancefloor, hoping you’d see Harry. Thankfully, he was towards the edge, back turned towards you. You watched as he turned around, ready to try and grab his attention. His eyes met yours, briefly filling with panic, before darting back down to the girl in his arms.

“Fuck this”, you muttered, as Harry’s friends and Freya and Talia all watched as he tried to assess the situation and what to do.

He watched as you walked closer, looking ready to send the stranger away. Harry’s eyes followed you as you sailed past him and towards the middle of the dance floor. You could feel eyes on you as you began dancing to the music, letting the beat mix with the alcohol and take over your body.

“Did you sort things with your boyfriend?”, a female voice asked. It was the girl from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes somewhat playfully at her.

“No”, you snorted. “I came to speak to him and he was all over another girl”, you told her. Your eyes darted over to where you’d last seen Harry. “That’s him there, sucking face with the blonde”.

“I hope he’s your ex-boyfriend now”, she told you, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s complicated”, you admitted, looking down in shame. It wasn’t news to you that you were letting Harry treat you like a doormat, but you had yet to muster up the courage to leave him. Just as you looked up, ready to offer to explain it over a drink, someone behind you shoved you, sending you catapulting into the girl’s arms.

“Careful there, can’t have you falling for me already. I’ve not even started flirting yet”, she told you with a smirk. “Martha”, she said politely, holding out a hand.

“Y/N”, you told her with a shy smile as you accepted her outstretched hand.

“Care for a dance?”, Martha asked you, pulling you closer with the hand that was still in hers.

You didn’t care if Harry and his friends watched as your bodies rolled together. Harry had never danced with you on a night out like this, never held you shamelessly in a club for everyone to see. Harry had never held your face so securely as he pulled you in for a kiss in front of everyone around you.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”, you heard beside you.

“Is this the boyfriend?”, Martha asked once she’d pulled back and let her eyes flutter open, eyeing Ethan up and down as soon as she had.

“The boyfriend’s best friend”, you told her, preparing to step out of her hold.

“Last time I checked, the boyfriend was preoccupied with someone else. Get him to come and find me when he wants his girlfriend. We’ll be right here”, she said, voice powerful and allowing no argument as her arms held you closer.

Harry never came to find you. The two of you left the club in separate taxis and you left with a new number saved in your phone.

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You should be with someone else - Someone who is not myself

“Harry, you deserve so much better”, you heard a voice say as you walked into Harry’s apartment. You walked down the hallway quietly, lingering just behind the door frame to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“We’ve been together for so long, though”, Harry sighed.

“Did you not see what she did the other night? She was all over some other chick!”, a voice, Simon’s, exclaimed.

“Maybe it was just a mistake, y’know”, Harry tried to reason.

“She’s not good for you, Harry”, JJ, this time, said.

You’d heard enough. You turned the corner, coming face to face with all 7 of the boys. “Y/N…”, Harry trailed off.

“No, no. Carry on talking about me, it’s fine”, you said, voice lathered in artificial sweetness.

“Damnit, Y/N, it wasn’t like that”, Harry snapped, surprising everyone but you. “What are you doing?”, he asked as you started gathering a blanket off of the back of the sofa and plucking a hoodie off of the back of a dining room chair..

“Getting my shit and going”, you hissed.

“You’re being dramatic”, Harry scolded.

“No, Harry. I’ve put up with your bullshit since we were 18. I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve put my life on hold for long enough. You need someone, but I’m not that someone anymore. I’m sick of looking after you and letting your friends hate me just because you’re too much of a coward to tell them the truth”, you spat.

“We know everything, Y/N”, Ethan said smugly, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“So you know that I started my degree late because I had to get Harry sober? You know that he’s cheated on me more times than I can count? You know that I’ve tried for 6 fucking years to get him to love me as much as I love him and it’s never fucking worked!?”, you all but yelled, shocking everyone in front of you.

“You think I don’t love you?”, Harry asked, voice frustrated and angry.

“I know that you don’t love me as much as I love you”, you told him simply. “You cancelled 3 anniversary dates to go on nights out with the guys. You made me cancel a weekend away because you wanted to go to Dubai. You get annoyed when I try to do my uni work. You let Ethan and JJ slag me off, practically to my face, and didn’t say a fucking word”, you told him.

You looked at Harry, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear my boyfriend’s best friends, people I’ve known for 6 years, say that I’m punching and that you deserve better? Did you think about how much it hurt me when you didn’t even flinch at what they said?”.

Harry’s face lit up in anger. “It’s not like you’ve been a good girlfriend!”, he spat.

“Because being a good girlfriend to you is like a full time job. It’s a full time job and I haven’t had a day off in over 5 years. So yeah, I’ve been a bad girlfriend… Boo fucking hoo”, you grumbled.

Harry remained silent, a sheepish look crossing his face. “We can try again”, he suggested quietly.

“We have! Over and over again!”, you exclaimed, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. “I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m tired of looking after you when I’m just as hungover as you. I’m tired of not making plans because I literally can not afford for you to cancel on me anymore. You don’t value me or anything that I do. Your friends hate me and you don’t care. I’ve been your last priority for years and I’m sick of it. We’re done. I’ll put your stuff in a box and bring it round”, you told him, voice losing more and more strength as you spoke.

“Y/N…”, Harry tried, reaching for your arm.

“Don’t”.

#harry lewis #w2s #wroetoshaw #harry lewis imagine #harry lewis x reader #harry lewis oneshot #w2s imagine #w2s oneshot #w2s x reader #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw x reader #wroetoshaw oneshot #sidemen #sidemen imagine #sidemen oneshot #sidemen x reader #song imagine #lyric imagine #uk youtube #uk youtube imagine

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Is it wrong to lie to children?

A personal essay on reconciling with a shitty childhood and the question: is it wrong to lie to children?

It’s perplexing to have a shitty “unorthodox” childhood because initially I tried to throw out everything about It. Toss out the plumping and the rafters and the roofing, dispense of every single part of my upbringing I could get my hands on and not look back. Naturally, this approach didn’t work. It wasn’t even a real possibility. You’re still haunted by it, a ghost in the bones of a house, a foundation that remains long after the builders have left. That’s part of recovery too, to look at that ghost, to look at those bones, and keep saying: I see you, I see. I let you in. You sit with it and accept, accept, accept.

The really terrible part of this, the part where I don’t throw away the baby with the bathwater, is that you then have to raise the thing, deal with it. You have to do the hard work of parsing through the endless bits of self and placing them in “keep” piles and “discard” piles. I want to keep my mother’s kindness. I want to keep my father’s sense of humor. I want to discard the isolation. I want to discard the delusions.

But then there are these weird . . . “I don’t know” things. The things I am unsure if they helped me or hurt me. As I’ve gotten older I’ve gotten more and more of those “I don’t know” categories piling up. I’ve worked my way through most of the more obvious ones and now it’s all grey and mushy and as cloudy as a London winter. Recently, more than anything, I’ve been grappling with the fact my mother believed it was wrong to lie to children. She believed, in her flower-child way, that it was unethical in all forms.

I never believed in Santa Claus. I’m sorry to say I was a pretty obnoxious kid too because I would preach on the playground about how there was no Santa and there had never been any Santa. Which was a bit harsh, but in my defense I was under the impression these people were suffering from some sort of collective mass delusion. They were being lied to. And lying was wrong.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

I’ve known about sex since I was around 5 years old. I don’t remember why I asked, but it was something about where babies come from and so on. Most parents talk about a stork or love or some other abstract side-step. My mother described the anatomy to me and showed me a scientific diagram of the process. She told me that a sperm meets an egg and fertilizes it so the baby can grow. I learned most of this in scientific terms and was surprised when none of my middle school friends knew how a penis worked.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

When I was 9 or so our cat was eaten by a coyote. I asked my mom where he went and she said that he accidently got out the night before. She said they looked for him all morning, but it was too late. She didn’t use the word “gone” or “passed on” or “he’s in a better place now.”

She said he was dead. I said oh. She asked if I wanted to see him. I said yes. For the record, I am not actually sure if 9 year-olds should see corpses. That is neither here nor there. It was something that stuck with me though, the body of my cat with his tummy ripped out. I had never seen intestines before. His eyes were open.

But there was something cathartic about digging the grave. About helping pick up his little stiff body by the feet and placing him inside. There was something about piling on the red dirt as the sun set and letting the tears fall.

People on sitcoms hate talking about death. It’s understandable, it’s not funny, it makes for good dramatic irony when the kid asks “Where’s Socks?” and the parents go “Uuuuuh. He ran away.” I’ve never felt more alienated at those points. My cat died. He was eaten. I saw his body, and I buried it. Sometimes I think I wouldn’t want to be told he ran away-- that he had a choice in whether or not he left me.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

For a long time I thought the entirety of my childhood was wrong and bad, because I was miserable and broken at the end of it. I will assure you, my parents fucked up time and time again. But sometimes I have to stop and keep asking: Was this the wrong part? Was this the part where they fucked up? Was any part of this valuable? It’s a hard process to comb through an entire life and decide which bits are worth keeping, and if there are any silver linings.

So here is one: I am an honest person. I am a crooked person too, unsure of where to place my feet in social situations, picking my way through others normalcy. I do not readily share information, I am not forthcoming, and it’s a slow burn for me to open up about anything.

However, I notice time and time again that strangers will share personal things with me. I don’t mean for it to happen, but there’s just this pattern in my life. I once went on a car ride with a girl I barely know from my debate team. She described how she wanted to lose her virginity, she wanted it, but was scared God would be angry. That she’d be dirty afterwards. I told her that that was impossible, sex was just an act, it had no eyes, it had no priestly robes, or bearing on her soul. She cried. She said she hadn’t told me anyone this before.

I had a friend in high school who was struggling with an eating disorder, people had tried to get her to talk about it before, but I was the first person she admitted it to. In the hallway, sitting, just discussing nothing, and out it comes: I’m scared to eat sometimes. I was on a city bus and an old woman struck up a conversation with me. Over an hour or so, and she ended up telling me her fears for her own daughter going away to college. Her fear of growing old and passing on. Her problems with sleeping as she lay awake and dreaded it.

People have told me about their problems with substance abuse, their struggles with sexuality, and childhood trauma. People spill to me and I sit there thinking: Why? Sometimes I think it’s my gender or just how people are, but it always feels like I’m missing some part of the picture. Why do people open up to me, unprompted, all at once? Why me?

Is it wrong to lie to children?

Recently, I was reading a memoir set in 2001 where two young kids ask the narrator, their mother, about 9/11. They asked what happened to the people on television who were jumping off the building. Where did they go? The mother says this: They were caught. There are people-catchers that flew and saved them. Everyone is okay.

This story was meant to be heartfelt and lyrical, relatable. It ended like this: It is the job of mothers to offer gentle lies.

I had to stop reading because I was suddenly lost in a white-hot rage, unexpected, knee-jerk. How could she do that? I found myself frothing. They trusted her with answers and she lied. How could she? I knew it was irrational. It was silly even. This was a sweet story. It was meant to be heart-warming and framed in a way that suggested this is what all mothers do. This was what they needed to do. 

I felt my own mother, pumping through my veins, furious that these elementary school students were being betrayed. I stopped myself of course, I knew it wasn’t reasonable. I wasn’t raised “correctly.” I had no legs to stand on.

But still, is it alright to lie to children?

I am once again faced with that unending dilemma: how to throw-out those parts of myself that don’t work and keep the ones that do. It’s difficult to say, because in some ways I agree with my mom. How can I not? But death is cruel. Sex is weird. Santa Claus is a beautiful lie.

And what’s wrong with lying? I still don’t know. What’s wrong with letting them never hurt? Never knowing the pain or gross parts of the world? What’s the harm in letting them make-believe?

But sometimes I think about all those people who have cried to me. All these unprompted confessions come with an unspoken plea: I hurt. I am afraid. I am so scared. It’s all so heavy, these painful truths.

And some part of me stands there, the part my mother raised and says: there is nothing in this life that is too shameful. There is nothing in this world that is unnatural. There is nothing in this life to lie about, even to children.

Is death too painful? Is sex too gross? Would you tell an adult that a man lives in the North Pole and watches them?

I asked my mom, years later, when I was less furious and able to talk with her again without screaming, about why she believed all this. She had told me about it since I was very young, but I never asked why. She shrugged. She said: children are people, aren’t they?

I still don’t know what to do with this.

Children are people, but they are not adults. They shouldn’t be exposed to “adult” things, right? But is that line so concrete? Is the word “adult” just a mask for the greater word, the one we really mean? We all agree: honesty is good. Lying hurts. But it’s alright to lie to kids, because in many ways they aren’t people yet, they aren’t people yet, they don’t count.

I am admittedly an argumentative person. I was on the debate team, mock trial, United Nations, I studied political science in college and fought with every single one of my professors I thought was wrong. And I stood in that playground, age 6, and told every single one of my classmates Santa wasn’t real and I wouldn’t stop. The truth was important. And my mother, no matter what, thought I disserved it.

I often felt tiny and powerless as a kid. Terrified and holding myself together by shoestrings. I often felt there would be nothing better in the world than to be grown up. Not for the money or the dating or the job, I just wanted to feel like the hurricane would end. That one day I could stand on solid ground again. My friend often says: I wish I could be a kid again, ya know? No responsibilities. Just bliss. I want to be a kid again.

I can’t relate. I never have. I’ve been busy weeding through the pipes and lighting and the carpentry of my upbringing and asking myself: is any of this worth keeping? Is any part of me built correctly? There are no right answers.

But still, I am haunted. I sit and ask myself in circles: is it alright to lie to children?

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