Infinity Adds Up
characters: magnus chase
fandom: mcga
words: ~500
warnings: discussion of graphic violence, existentialism, depressive topics
description: an action, once done enough, loses all meaning. death is like that, or at least magnus hopes it is.
I am on mobile and the cut post feature does not work. if this will trigger you, now is the time to scroll super fast by.
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Magnus thinks that in 10, 20, 40, 100 years he'll get used to the feeling of a fight. The adrenaline will stop its blinding rush, panic fueled limbs flying through the battle field (kill revive tiptoe kill defend-) and he wil be able to regard battle with the cool logic and calculated movements of Valhalla's older residents.
He knows this is when he will become numb, everyone he loved and knew in life dead, and he is scared. He knows that the numbness will prevent him from hurting about it, and he is less scared.
There is an illusion of luxury in this place, the desperate scrabbling cover of immortals to make up for the fact that they're so fucking empty except for the times they get maim each other. The only thing that can pierce their fogged vision is wrath, sharp and unfettered, misplaced at those that slight them rather than the cruel march of time of time ending in a battle which renders everything pointless. Valhallans will see stars die, and they will be the ones with the dust of the universe spread across their hands like so many centuries of blood.
But at least the towels are soft.
Magnus knows all of this, knows it in the marrow of his undead bones, producing and rotating blood in endless circles until it is broken with the tip of a spear or a bullet or sometimes a silver garrote. Sometimes he thinks he knows too much for this place, thinks of Halfborn with all of his degrees and blind faith, thinks of Annabeth with her careful cynical hope, and he thinks of Alex and his 3am existentialism and knows he doesn't. Everyone knows as much, too, they just ignore it.
Magnus was never much good at ignoring things, never good at being numb. His emotions demanded to be felt, covering him in waves all encompassing feeling in way that made his skin crawl. This is why he panics, why he cannot fight.
Why, even after 400 years, he walks onto the battlefield of Ragnarok all the more mind fucking than in his relative youth, there is no sense of relief.
All he feels fear.
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"Run."
Human Nature/Family of blood [redraw]
Old one from last year under the cut 👍
"It's empty!"
"Wheres it gone?"
"You tell me"
"Oooh, I think the explanation might me youve been fooled by a simple olfactory misdirection. A little bit like ventriloquism of the nose. Its an elementary trick in certain parts of the galaxy. But it has got to be said, I dont like the look of that hydrokinometer. It seems to be indicating youve got energy feedback all the way through the retrostabilisers feeding bAck into the primary heat converters. oH! Schh. Cause if theres one thing you shouldnt have done, you shouldnt have let me press all those buttons.
BUt, in fairness, i will give you one word of advice.
RUN! :D
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yknow I really didn't think it was possible to make me angrier at JK Rowling but then I found out she wrote a book abt an autistic person being sucked into a cult (that's totally not an analogy for trans people what you talking abt) because they just can't possibly know what's good for them, they need their fathers to come and hire private investigators to get them out of a cult. And in the book autistic people are referred to by the r slur and called "a bit simple".
I didn't think it was possible for me to hate this paternalistic, honeyed head-patting, self-righteous, hate-driven HAG of a woman more than I did but fuck me here we are.
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