The Ones You Save

hey, if you’re still doing panacea, I’d love to be added to the taglist!

yes i am still doing it!! it’s been kind of at a stand still because i’ve hit a chaotic spurt with college but i will definitely add you on to my taglist for it!!!

Jake the Gatekeeper

So, anyone else want to talk about Jake being the gatekeeper? And how in death, Jake had been locked up and prevented from doing his job? YET HE STILL DID IT.

So what is a gatekeeper? Please feel free to correct me because sometimes my meaning gets lost in my inability to language at times... But they are in charge of keeping things running. Keeping people where they need to be and keeping memories and ares of the inner world locked off from those not meant to see.

Basically they go, "That memory? That memory only causes you to be in horrible pain. You don't need to keep looking at it." And they lock it up. Sometimes in a room, sometimes in a box, sometimes just somewhere out of reach.

They also go, "Hey. You shouldn't be fronting right now" and they can pull you out of that seat. They are grounding. They can help people stay grounded, they can help people front. They are in charge of keeping the traffic flow going. It's sort of a big deal.

Some never front. They have a lot going on inside and they like to stay there. Some front a lot, letting others rest, giving themselves time out.

(Side tangent, I know a system where the gatekeeper was having a stressful time thanks to a new medication. They decided to take a day off and didn't tell anyone else. They just went to their area and disappeared for a day. The rest of the system went into PANIC mode for the whole day. Someone that usually only fronts for an hour at a time got stuck in the front position for the day and couldn't switch out, everyone else didn't know what to do and ran around looking for the gatekeeper. When they finally came back it was a lot like that scene from community where he walks in and everything is on fire).

SO. Marc and Steven have no idea about Jake, about what he does, and how important he is. If we follow that Steven holds emotional/spiritual protector and Jake holds gatekeeper AND physical protector, Jake is a busy man.

When they die, things get a little messed up. Steven is locked up, Marc is lost in his own tormented emotions/memories/thoughts and whatever else the afterlife is doing to him, and Jake is locked up.

Here's the interesting part. Was Marc even supposed to find Steven? Was it a fluke? Did Marc choose to find Steven because he needed his emotional support? I believe yes. He has to OPEN the door to get into Steven's room and then free Steven from the sarcophagus that is closed.

YET: Just down the hall from Steven's room, there is an OPEN DOOR and the Sarcophagus is upright and halfway through the damn doorway.

He can't get out because Marc does not let him. Marc is in control here and he is not ready to know about Jake. BUT LOOK AT HOW FAR JAKE IS TO GETTING OUT ON HIS OWN.

Even more, most of the doors are STILL LOCKED.

Steven happens into the important door and locks Marc out. Marc can't get into these doors on his own. Only Steven is actually opening doors here. When Marc is in panic mode, none of the doors open. The only door he actually gets through on his own opens by itself, inviting him in. Steven is already there, ready for Marc to come back.

Steven is navigating the memories, probably with the help of what ever if happening in the Duat, but he is still in control. Even falling into the memory of the night Marc met Khonshu.

But what if Jake is the one navigating them? The doors are locked. The memories are a mess. Jake can't get out, but he still might have control. What if he's the one that let Randall out to guide Steven? What if he's the one that pulls them through the never ending staircase of pain? Lets them fall into the desert with Khonshu?

What if Jake understands that it's time to let Steven do his job because he can't? What if he realizes at long last that it's time that Steven knew about his own job? Marc is spiraling and becoming too destructive. Too much is at stake and Marc would rather just die than face anything. So finally as they die, Jake is like, "Steven, I can't do this. It's your turn." And the gates are opened.

Ghost Of You

Summary:

Peter Parker, a high school junior, has done his best to manage his secret identity and school work. He had a healthy system set in place that somehow, miraculously, helped him manage everything in his life. At least he did until he runs into you one night while out prowling the streets for criminals. Your hands are buzzing with electricity, and the joy spread out across your face at the mere thought of helping make the streets safer is alluring. He vows to get to know you - to know everything about you. Something inside him is telling him that you’re the one person he knows he’s not afraid to unmask himself to. In his determination to learn everything about you, he ends up discovering a fatal secret that he’s not sure he can save you from.

Chapters:

Prologue

Extra Scenes:

Inspired Works:

Song Inspiration

preliminary cover drop 😌

Panacea

Summary:

Months after moving out on your own to a small town by the name of Hawkins (and promptly transferring your school records to Hawkins High), you’ve found yourself as the token girlfriend of the highly-acclaimed Billy Hargrove. You seem to have it all - a hot boyfriend that every girl could only dream of, straight A’s and a golden 4.0 GPA, and not a single parent or guardian to hold you back. But the truth is, dating Billy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You’ve found that it’s lonely - he never shows up when he says he will, tries to pepper up his apologies with bouquets bought last minute from the grocery store down the street from his house, and - almost worst of all - he never even bothers to open up to you. You’ve seen glimpses of his home life, heard stories of what goes on behind closed doors from his younger step-sister on the nights she finds herself on your doorstep, and deep down you know that this relationship isn’t any good for you. People always say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree - and Max knows that Billy is a nuclear bomb set on a path for complete annihilation that will take you out with him once he finally detonates. Enlisting the help of her self-declared “baby-sitter” is all she can think to do - but she knows that Steve Harrington, with his familial history and his too-big-heart, can save you from the Death Zone. 

Chapters:

(shitty) short introduction

Extra Scenes:

Inspired Works:

Song Inspiration

I FOUND YOU!! -blue blue blue blue blue blue blue

hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi

khonsu: BE MY AVATAR OR PERISH!

Taweret: So, anyway, I made you this special costume so you can fight the baddies. I did my best so I hope you like it, you’re gonna look so beautiful on this…

jeez khonsu, I wonder why no one wants to be your avatar

Episode 5 spoilers!

Back in my thoughts again, you know the drill. A bit lengthy!!

I cannot stop thinking about this scene—how Steven clearly remembers that this was his room,

And how he remembers the exact thing he said during this part of the scene, which proves that he was, in fact, in control for at least a couple seconds.

BUT. He doesn’t remember anything from this moment forward. That’s why he wanted to see what their mother did to them, and that’s why Marc was set on getting him out of the room before he saw something that would severely taint his memories and what he knew of their childhood. At the same time, Marc knows EXACTLY what happened.

I’m positive that Steven dissociated at that moment and Marc took over. In general, he didn’t want Steven to remember what truly happened. It’s his way of making up to Randall/RoRo, I would like to believe. He treats Steven like the younger brother that he lost when he was a child. The one who loved drawing the one finned fish. The one who was always eager for adventure. The one who was screaming for help back in the cave.

Remember? His mother explicitly stated:

“Marc, what do you do? Keep an eye on your brother, okay?” And Marc is set on fulfilling that promise to Steven.

Marc let Steven keep all the good memories, while he himself lived through all of the bad ones, just so that he could protect him from getting hurt and feeling pain. Steven, his alter, who he considers to be his little brother.

That’s the reason why Marc was so adamant about simply telling Steven what had happened in that room at the top of the flight of stairs, so Steven wouldn’t have to watch the memory play out in front of him. Seeing what happened would definitely hurt more than just knowing what happened. By telling Steven himself, he would have control over what he would reveal to him, and how he would tell him.

That’s why Marc’s first thought when waking up in the Asylum was Steven. That’s why Marc never complained about fronting right after Steven was pierced by the weapons back in Mogart’s. That’s why Marc probably set up a line for Steven to contact “his mother”, and why Marc replaced Gus with another fish. That’s why Marc didn’t want Steven finding out about him in the first place.

Marc spent most of his life protecting and saving Steven the way he wished he could’ve protected and saved Randall. I am literally bawling over this.

Also ending this with another appreciation for Oscar Isaac because he’s a damn legend for the breathtaking portrayal of Steven AND Marc. He better earn awards for this series or I will riot.

babygirl I know video game lore you wouldn't even care about

The Ones You Save [Prologue]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1,759

Summary: The one where your chaotic mind is reset.

prologue | part 1 | part 2

There is a part of you that believes you used to know what life was like before you were stuck; stuck in whatever chaotic mess this was. A mess of what you could barely recognize as an endless cycle  ― one that Alexander Pierce constantly thought of; one that involved strange, sickly liquids being pumped into your system; one that had parts of your brain constantly being erased. The endless cycle of you searching for orders in the brains of agents who were deemed superior to you, completing the orders  ― going through with horrendous actions that would leave your hands more blood-stained than before.

Your superiors don’t care about that, though. They don’t care about the amount of blood that tarnishes your hands. They don’t care about the screams and pleas that echo in your head. They don’t care about how unclean you feel; how wrong, how disgusting, how tainted. They only care that you can complete your missions, that you can pave their way in the messy world. As long as you’re a determined, dangerous tool  ― they don’t need to look into your mental state.

There’s an urge in your brain  ― an urge to dig through the mess of barriers and fragments that the electricity from the machine has left behind. But you shove the urge down; trying to hide it deep among the broken, shattered parts of what you once were able to recognize as a person with free will. There’s another urge right alongside that one. It’s telling you to escape from this room, the compound. It’s telling you to get out before the doctor can bother to mess with your mind again. It’s the again part that catches you off guard. You can’t remember another time that you were in this room  ― a cloth shoved between your clenched jaw, metal bonds holding down your arms and legs. You can’t remember anything, actually. Except in uncontrollable spurts. But the thought of trying to conjure up a past memory sends a shockwave of pain through your frontal lobes.

Your eyes focus around the room and you let go of the guard that you had yanked up on your mind. Your eyes are quick to close as every single thought in the room hits you at once. You can tell that your mind and your control have become unstable  ― everything is so loud and you can’t concentrate on a single thought. You’re only able to catch a few keywords, ones that add up to a splintered sentence: seventh time in, looming cryogenic chamber, a mess. The fragmented sentence seems to match your mind and your emotions, making you feel like you have been tossed into a never-ending vortex that happily holds you captive. It seems dead-set on tearing you down.

An extreme pain explodes throughout your head and you immediately realize that your brain is trying to push back your mental barriers. You know that a memory is trying to be brought up, one that you don’t want to recall. You thrust it back down. You thrust it as far down as you can, pretending that you are locking it away in a hidden chamber  ― chucking the key to the opposing side of a very long, very deep ocean. The memory disappears and your eyes lock with a man who is kneeling in front of you. The cold, empty look in his bright green eyes throw you off. You instantly recognize him as your primary doctor.

"Ghost, if you don't get your shit together soon ― we're tossing you in the chamber."

You know that already. You gathered that much from the mess of a sentence that your mind inherited. You’re thinking, though, that you wouldn’t mind the chamber. Your body yearns for a break. You don’t sleep much outside of it. Maybe being chucked into the cryogenic chamber would fix you, maybe it would soothe your aching mind. Maybe you could get some answers for why your mind is so mangled. But you know that it wouldn’t work in the long run. You’d be thrown back into the dreaded chair and your mind would be wrecked even further.

"We're using a different drug today." The doctor speaks again, easily catching your attention. You hadn’t noticed before but the protective barrier in your mind has been pulled back down, everything has become increasingly quiet. You barely acknowledge that you enjoy the silence.

The doctor moves and you’re focusing on his face again; observing the concentration that has sprung up on his facial features. Your eyes flicker over to the IV and you watch as the substance begins to flow down from the bag. Your gaze is forced away from the substance as your head is moved forward. You try not to tense as your head is secured with the headpieces of the chair, the pressure mainly on your frontal lobes. You settle with curling your hands into fists ― your eyes closing as the chair is slammed back. You’re not ready for the procedure to begin, but they don't care that you’re not ready.

You can almost feel the liquid moving through your body ― a freezing cold sensation taking over every inch of your being. There's a quick, fleeting memory that whirls around in your brain; reminding you of the month that you were stuck out in the Russian wilderness, a strange man accompanying you. The machine you are hooked to gives a soft whirl and pain erupts throughout your brain, yanking the memory out of your grasp.

The pain itself is unbearable. It is searing and bright; spreading quickly throughout every inch of your body. It seems to fill every nook and cranny within a split second. In response, you shove yourself up ― your body beginning to convulse against the bonds that chain you down. Your jaw is incredibly tense, tenser than it has been in a while, and you want to scream. You want to scream and cry and thrash, but you fight the urge. It will give the sick minds around here some sort of satisfaction and you refuse to give it to them.

The pain is suddenly disappearing, but it leaves behind an electric feeling. It's a muddled type of electric, though. The pain is still slightly buzzing about your body, lessened by the murky black medicine that's still sluggishly crawling around in your veins. The freezing effect of the strange drug has worn off. In your mind, it's probably due to the electricity that has just bombarded every single cell in your body. You don’t yearn for the cold, though, because the medicine has made you feel numb ― like you’re unreachable to the world around you.

You don’t feel when the needle is pulled from your skin, barely registering what is happening as you are being pulled to your feel. The numbness you feel is intoxicating and, in a way, you yearn for more of it. Your dangerously trained mind would recognize it as a danger if you were fully functioning  ― you’re too apathetic to really care.

Your instincts have kicked in to give you a helping hand. Your back is as straight as it can go and your eyes are void of emotion; like a robot waiting patiently to be programmed. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the doctor's eyes, but you are more confused by the look on his face. It is filled with humor. You are puzzled by it; if you were sobered up, you could take his tall build down without effort.

"Longing." Your eyes blankly focus on a man standing behind the doctor. His eyes seemed so dark that they were nearly back. His voice seemed to penetrate through the numbness; your skull exploding with a dull ache. You want to curl into a tight ball and press your hands tightly against your ears. You want to do whatever you could do block out his voice, to preserve the sweet numbness ― you don’t want to know what the punishment would be.

"Rusted. Furnace."

The second and third words seemed to roll off his tongue effortlessly. Your conscious mind begins to slip out of your grasp. It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to fight to hold on to your self-control. Usually, it was easier for you to cling to what broken bits of free will that you had. The drugs in your system were making it easier for them to brainwash you. Clinging to control would be an extremely hard predicament for anyone in your situation, though. It didn't matter how many cc's of the drugs were in your system when the words officially took hold. You would become dangerous.

"Daybreak. Seventeen. Benign. "

The ache in your skull seemed to be getting worse with every word that slipped out of his mouth. Your whole being seemed to be screaming at you to resist the words ― to block him out, to run far away from this place. But you couldn't. There was no way for you to resist the words.

"Nine. Homecoming."

The words had begun to echo around in your brain. It didn't matter what anyone else was saying or thinking at this point. All that mattered to you was the right words that had already been spewed out of his lips. They seemed to be booming among your skull, reverberating among the soft tissue and harsh bone. They began to take away every thought you had about the drugs in your system; instead shattering the identity that you once thought that you still had a tight hold on.

"One."

You let your eyes flutter close. The darkness you were met with was almost welcoming. It was far more easy to deal with than the agents that were in the room ― entranced by the process that the lead doctor was in the process of completing. Many of them had seen the process before, had watched the transformation that took place after your mind was scrambled like eggs. But they were repeatedly astounded by the process, almost like it was a strange fetish of theirs. Your muscles relaxed against your will, losing all the tension you had been holding on to.

"Freight car."

Your eyelids snapped open, eyes focusing on the black orbs in front of you. You recognized the glint in them, but you didn't acknowledge it. You had no reason to question the malice that the dark orbs held. 

You instead spoke, your tone matching his cold heart, "I am ready to comply."