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canary3d-obsessed · 11 months

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 38 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard) (whole thing on AO3)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

OK But Why?

This tale-within-a-tale is excruciating, yeah? So let's start off by considering why it even exists. Yi City feels like, if not a fully separate story, a pretty complete arc that can play as its own little movie. And it's incredibly sad, in every direction. While it may have begun life, in its originally-written form, as a different story exploring some of the same themes, MXTX placed it in the novel deliberately, and the producers of CQL included it deliberately. Why? Other than the, you know, catharsis of a well-wrought tragedy?

I think the answer is that it tells a set of parallel stories, alternate versions of the stories our main characters inhabit, with different outcomes driven by the character's choices. There's an obvious parallel between Lan Wangji's grief and Song Lan's, and another clear one between Wei Wuxian's core donation and Xiao Xingchen's eyeball donation.

And there's an important comparison to be made between Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian, two demonic cultivators. They share some formative experiences, but have followed radically different paths, shaped, at a key moment, by another person's choice.

Overall, the Yi City story illustrates how choices made in a moment affect not just an individual life, but ripple outward into other lives. So be prepared for me to point out parallels even more than usual, as we go through these episodes.

Empathy

We start off learning about Empathy and how it’s sooper dangerous, which means of course Wei Wuxian is totally down for it and probably invented it. He gathers the kids around and assigns Jin Ling to be the person in charge of supervising and deciding when to pull him out of the matrix link.

Jin Ling is surprised and reluctant so teacher’s pet Sizhui jumps forward and volunteers.

Wei Wuxian asks Jin Ling for his Jiang clarity bell, which is on a tassel that used to be Jiang Yanli’s.

(more behind the cut!)

Once the bell/tassel is out of Jin Ling’s hand, however, he changes his mind and snatches it, and the responsibility, back.

It seems like Sizhui might recognize this tassel?

It’s like the one Jiang Yanli gave Wei Wuxian when they met up before her wedding, which means Wei Wuxian would have had it with him during their year in the burial mounds.

Jingyi disapproves of Jin Ling’s mind-changing, which is a little unfair since JL didn’t actually say “no” prior to Sizhui putting in his oar. (Sizhui is entirely loveable, but he is also a pushy brown-noser just like Lan Wangji was at his age. He just does it so sweetly that nobody minds.)

Sizhui, also like his Lan dad, has made it his life’s mission to manage a loudmouth hothead’s temper for him.

Heading into empathy with A-Qing, we get flashes of bits of the story that we're about to see in depth. Then we jump to "ten years ago" which, given the way this series does math, probably means seven years ago.

Side note: A-Qing has managed to keep her hair looking pretty cute despite being 90% dead.

Splish Splash

This particular section of the Wuxia River of Sadness is reserved for people who are contemplating the total mess they have made of their lives (gifset here), but A-Qing didn't get that memo, so she's having a nice time splashing joyfully without a care in the world.

A-Qing isn't about drama or being depressed, even when things are pretty difficult. She has found a big rock to sit on and is having a nice day hanging out on it.

Then she goes skipping along singing "la la la la" (which is the same sound in Chinese as we make in English when we're singing and don't know the words, incidentally). Ok, show, we get it, she's happy and carefree. I sure hope she doesn't get involved in any weird relationships.

Grifting

She sees a couple of women walking on the path and she starts pretending to be blind. In the book, this pretense was facilitated by her having completely white eyes, but in the show she has normal brown eyes, until she actually is blinded by Xue Yang. So her entire pretense of being blind is to unfocus her eyes a bit and wave her hands around...

...with frequent intervals where she thinks no-one is watching her, and she acts 100% like she can see. Somehow she is almost never busted for this.

The ladies give her a steamed bun and whisper loudly to each other about how pitiful she is.

Then she heads into town for a little grifting, picking a wealthy douchebag as a mark. She bumps into him and steals his money bag, which he doesn't notice because he's too busy creeping on her.

She's annoyed and disappointed that he doesn't have a lot of money.

Hey Pretty, Don’t You Want To Take a Ride With Me

Next she bumps into (and robs) Xiao Xingchen, who is actually blind, so he doesn’t notice her noticing how extremely pretty he is.

He does notice that she has robbed him, however.

Did you know if you have your eyes removed or even just damaged so you can't see any more, your eye sockets and/or tear ducts will bleed pretty much forever? Yeah, me neither.

Xiao Xingchen immediately takes charge of A-Qing, telling her to walk more slowly and then telling her - kindly - to return his money purse. Before she can answer him, the rich douchebag comes back to yell at her and try to hit her. Xiao Xingchen stops him and smooths over the situation, and then lectures Ah Qing about stealing and how it's bad. But he tells her to keep his money, so - mixed messages, bro.

She calls him gege and says that since he's blind and she's blind, she's going to follow him forever. He’s like, okey dokey, and they walk off together. Is she really the first person (since Song Lan) who’s had this idea about him? He is *very* pretty, after all.

It's unclear to me if she's calling him gege in the sense of “orphan girl who wants a family,” or in the sense of “mostly-grown-up woman who would like to Hit That.” Xiao Xingchen appears to take it as the former; he is too gay virtuous for the other option.

Two seconds after they decide to stay together, they encounter Xue Yang lying injured by the side of the road. A-Qing pretends she didn’t see him, and almost successfully wangles a piggyback ride out of Xiao Xingchen.

But then he hears Xue Yang and immediately decides to rescue him, like the do-gooder Xue Yang despises him for being.

Xue Yang gets the romance-tropey piggyback ride that A-Qing was hoping for. Girl, the time to stop trying to seduce your gay male friend is 5 minutes before you started, ok?

So...why was Xue Yang lying by the side of the road with a stab wound? Who gave it to him? If Jin Guangyao was sick of him, he would have stabbed him 100% fatally, and he wouldn't have let him hang on to Tiger Seal 2.0. And presumably Xue Yang wouldn’t think of him as a friend any more. It’s a mystery.

The new throuple decide to go to the creepiest abandoned walled city that has ever existed, and head past all the regular houses to set up camp in the morgue, for some reason. Not even inside one of the buildings; just out in the courtyard with a bunch of possibly-occupied coffins. Xiao Xingchen is so fucking weird.

Each Unhappy Family is Unhappy in its Own Way

Xiao Xingchen gets to work patching Xue Yang up, and Xue Yang wakes up and recognizes him. A-Qing explains that they are blind and tells him not to be rude about it.

Xue Yang takes a second to process the situation, and then decided he’s going to hide his identity and make nice with Xiao Xingchen. Proving that found family can also have hideous toxic dynamics.

Xue Yang is very careful to keep XXC from touching his hand, since that would give away his identity. He has a...prosthetic finger? He wears a black glove and keeps his pinky finger straight so we know it's a replacement, or injured, or something.

I think this is a concession to Wang Haoxuan having ten functional fingers and the show having a limited CGI budget. In a real sword-based society, missing a finger is probably not particularly uncommon, and he would probably just rock the nine-fingered look without having a special glove.

At this point, the complex interactions of the trio get rolling. Xiao Xingchen is honestly kind, Xue Yang is fake-kind, A-Qing is fake-unaware with Xue Yang and is unable to make Xiao Xingchen understand the problem, and Xiao Xingchen is genuinely unaware of everything.

We spend a fairly large amount of time with Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen playing happy families. As part of his false persona, Xue Yang adopts a coy and whiny tone when talking to his pet white-clad cultivator, remarkably like another demonic cultivator we know.

I’m pretty sure Wei Wuxian has never managed to cop a feel while his sweetie climbs up a ladder, however.

Then again, neither Lan Wangji nor Wei Wuxian has ever needed a ladder to get onto a roof, so maybe it’s just a lack of opportunity.

This relationship, on the surface, is cute and sweet, which just makes the reality of it more disturbing. It’s super uncomfortable to watch, but there’s more than manipulation happening in these interactions. As Xue Yang flits around doing domestic tasks like patching the roof of the crappy outdoor shelter that they absolutely do not need to be using, he tells Xiao Xingchen various true things about his early life, and we begin to see what shaped him.

Xue Yang (like OP) is obsessed with candy. In Xue Yang’s case, he was a hungry street kid who loved candy but couldn’t usually have it because of poverty. We learn that he has skills in patching up inadequate housing because he did it growing up.

And we learn that he was beaten a lot.

So he and Wei Wuxian have these things in common - except now Wei Wuxian gets his sugar from alcohol, not from candy. And Wei Wuxian’s handyman skills are used to make a home for his former enemies in the burial grounds, while Xue Yang’s are used - also in a cemetery, of sorts - to manipulate and trap his enemy.

I Want Candy

In classic predator form, Xue Yang uses candy to lure A-Qing into coming within stabbing range, because he thinks she’s faking her blindness and wants to test her.

I find him super attractive right here in spite of his evilness. I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s offering candy. (OP goes and gets a jolly rancher out of her purse).

After calling her over, he draws his sword with a super-loud "sshshk" noise that she inexplicably doesn't notice, and she bravely walks up to, and nearly on to, the point of the sword.

This shocks him and convinces him that she's really blind. He sits her down with apparently sincere gentleness, and gives her candy, while quizzing her about her hot gege.

A-Qing tries to warn Xiao Xingchen about Xue Yang being a bad guy, pointing out that he's a cultivator and won't tell them his name. (She can’t say “also he tried to stab me” because she’d have to come clean about being able to see.) Xiao Xingchen, because he is a condescending prick--albeit a very sweet one--pats her on the fucking head and laughs off her extremely useful warning.

Xiao Xingchen came out into the wider world with a set of ideals that he lives by, apparently without examining them. He’s humble, kind, frugal, and wants to eradicate evil. He also believes that the majority of people are good like him, and that detecting evil is simple--as simple as following his sword toward it. He doesn’t allow A-Qing, who is experienced in the wider world, to teach him anything, preferring to keep his ideals untarnished.

Contrast this with Lan Wangji, who also starts his journey into the wider world with a set of ideals (codified as rules), but does not make the mistake of assuming that other people shares his beliefs. Once he’s away from the Cloud Recesses, he follows Wei Wuxian’s lead when dealing with new people, rather than insisting on doing things the way he did back home. In general, he is open to having his beliefs challenged, even when it makes him upset or uncomfortable. As a result, he grows into a righteous man, not a naïve one, and he’s fully capable of identifying enemies even when they appear to be friends.

Bonus:

In this brief long-distance shot we learn that A-Qing sleeps in a coffin, which is some next level goth girl shit.

Soundtrack: 1. Hey Pretty by Poe 2. I Want Candy by Bow Wow Wow 3. Cheap Thrills by Sia

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #restless rewatch the untamed #yi city #yi city trio #canary3d-original #ep 38

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chronically-ghosted · 9 months

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I’m so sorry for essentially spamming you, because I legit stayed up until 2 AM reading Recovery Road because I just COULDN’T stop, and I def left you several novellas in the comments on ao3 because I couldn’t contain myself, lol.

But, in all sincerity, RR is one of the best things I’ve ever read. Ever. I mean fics, published works, anything.

As someone with a past history of substance abuse, I’m often wary of reading fics that touch on recovery or addiction at all, because I’ve been burned a few times by careless mishandling of what’s obviously a sensitive topic, or seeing it reduced to nothing more than a trope. But holy mother of god, the care and empathy you obviously took the entire fic was SO apparent. So many times while reading, I had moments of “oh, I have BEEN Natalie or Dieter or Heidi, I KNOW I exactly what’s going on right now and EXACTLY what it feels like, and this is IT.” Even when it was ugly and messy and painful, it was obviously written with such care in a way that was just beautiful.

And I’m seriously FLOORED by your ability to describe the hurricane of emotions through it all in such a visceral way. There were times where I could just FEEL the heat of shame burning in my gut, the sinking weight of grief, or my heart just damn bursting during their moments of triumph and happiness. And I so appreciate the time you took with the story and characters; a story like theirs, together and separately, just takes time, especially to have any hope of ending up where they did, and I love so much that you allowed them that (even if I did gasp out loud at the ten years reveal lol). I was truly just clutching at my chest, covering my mouth, and near tears the last two chapters especially.

Thank you so, so much for writing this absolutely beautiful story and for sharing it. I absolutely can’t wait to positively devour anything and everything else you go on to write. 🖤

this, without a doubt, made my entire week 🤍 i have no idea how to respond to this because this level of dedication and thoughtfulness towards something I wrote . . . i am gobsmacked!

first of all, the fact that you wrote an individual review on multiple chapters -- it's totally not spam and i read every single one of them twice and i think i'm a little bit in love with you??? seriously, that is like every writer's wicked fantasy 🤍

secondly and this is a big one - THANK YOU?!?!? addiction and recovery are things that have definitely affected me too, and I've always been the Heidi of the situation. But the way people treat or talk about addicts as if they are less deserving of care and empathy is horrific. In my own life, I struggle to find that balance of boundary setting and empathy all the time so I was genuinely worried about taking these sensitive topics and putting them in the realm of fantasy fanfiction. Of course, things are going to end well because it's fanfiction, but in real life it doesn't always and there's always that concern of relapse (which, in my opinion, makes addicts rather incredible to have to wake up every single goddamn day and make an active decision not to do the easy thing -- I struggle with doing my skin care routine daily).

I really have to shout out @spookyxsam for the realism -- she helped me through a lot of the scenes of Dieter's downward spiral, how someone on that many drugs might react or what they might say. And she diagnosed both Dieter and Natalie and wrote out their prescriptions! That is a very weird text chain to have in your phone! 😆

I had a couple of different phrases running through my head while writing this: "right person, wrong time", "loving someone is as much of a choice as it is to stay sober", (and if it wasn't totally obvious by Andrew's speech) "love above all else is what makes life worth living". I think by the end of it, both Natalie and Dieter made their own little families, independent of each other and then as one themselves. I genuinely hope you got some of that sentiment while reading this. There's something so desperately tragic about Dieter as a character (even in the original movie) that I am just obsessed with. Have I done way too much character analysis for a character from a Judd Apatow movie? Yes. Is that ever going to stop me? No.

*on my hands and knees* thank you for taking the time to write all of this out. this is a very close and personal fic for me, so to hear it affected you even at all, it means so much! 🤍🤍 I promise I will get to your request from my 100 followers event -- that one is SO DIETER IT HURTS! thank you thank you thank you and see you next time!

#nice things people say to me #dieter bravo #recovery road #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #yall got me crying in the club

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elia-de-silentio · 3 years

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Vanitas and affection: a complicated relationship

In light of recent chapters and waiting for the next to deliver our new dose of pain, I've decided to make a bit of analysis on how Vanitas relates to affection.

Vanitas enters this world, and gets the first of a long series of traumas. A classic: mother dies in childbirth, the baby is blamed for existing. Vanitas had internalized this thinking from his father ... or maybe it was a reasoning he made on his own (he says that his father 'must have hated him', but does not recall the man actually telling him so), and his father did not correct him - either because he subconsciously agreed or because he wasn't the most emotionally attuned man in the world.

After all, the only thing certain about Vanitas's father is his tendency to self-sacrifice: he abandoned his birth family and respectable profession to follow the woman he loved in her travelling caravan, even if he didn't like the rest of the people there; he gave up his life to save his son.

And this latter part is what furthers Vanitas's trauma, as he will feel an extra dose of guilt for causing his father's sacrifice.

After the death of his family, he is taken by the Chasseurs to be trained and become one of them. His strong hatred for vampires fueled him, and it's likely he was quite good at fighting, given what we see of him now. But alas, he caught the attention of Moreau.

Vanitas's damnation was his high empathy. As Luna will later point out, he would be able to escape; but Moreau had faked his death by killing a kid that looked like him, thus triggering his trauma of 'other people sacrificing for his sake'.

And then, he thought that even if he escaped, someone else would be tortured in his place. The reasoning is actually more based in self-loathing than reality, as attested by the existence of n.70 and 71; so he turned his reason for being there into trying to get more torture and lift it from the other children whenever he could.

Then he gets saved. Well, he likely doesn't perceive it like that, because Luna is a vampire, especially the Vampire of the Blue Moon whose blood Moreau injected him to try and turn him into a vampire. Nevertheless, there appears to have been a somewhat peaceful period between the escape from Moreau and the start of the series: we see Luna take care of him and Misha, giving them shelter, teaching them about malnomens and trying her hand at life lessons; we see little Vanitas do most of the chores, even if with a standoffish attitude; we see little Misha basking in the happiness of a somewhat stable and nice family situation.

Then something terrible happens.

It is revealed that due to Moreau's experiments, the kids are not exactly human anymore, but they aren't vampires either; their body can't substain this state of being, and they will die if they aren't turned into kins of the Blue Moon. Misha accepts, Vanitas refuses, wanting to stay human. Next thing we know, they are both kins of the Blue Moon with Marks of Possession, and Luna is dead.

As of the time of this writing, it is not clear exactly what happened; we know that Luna died, and that Vanitas played some role in it. Misha outright accuses him of killing her, but the framing of the actual events is quite ambiguous.

Vanitas, on his part, seems to have conflicting feelings: he says he wants to take revenge on Luna for drinking his blood, but when he's half-delirious, he mutters that he didn't really hate her; he appearently made Misha some promise that he didn't keep, and he is crushed by guilt as a result.

But whatever happened, his consent on the kin-making was ignored (just like it always happened in Moreau's laboratory) and another person that was close to him died either at his own hand, or because of him. And he gets some other trauma on top of an already long list.

Moreover, he was surprised to find out that Misha was alive. So, for some time, he believed the person who he loved like a brother was dead. Add good old grief to the mix.

So, we get to the Vanitas of the very first chapters of the manga. An outgoing, cocky individual ... a mask. After all, every time he has shown his actual feelings of anger and grief, it didn't turn out very well for him in the end, did it?

It also allows him to annoy and gross out people, specifically Noé and Jeanne. Nobody really likes his arrogance and pushiness, so they won't give him the affection he doesn't deserve.

Then, the aftermath of the Bal Masqué. Vanitas is provoking Ruthven, and Noé goes unexpectedly to protect him. To take risks for his sake. This already scares him, but then Noé has the gall to go and try to understand him! His reaction has to be more extreme: he flat out tries to attack Noé with a knife and tries to get him away, whereas he had been pretty much stalking him up to this point. But Noé refuses; and Vanitas is maybe just a little comforted and moved, enough to stop trying to push him away.

Then there is the Catacomb Arc, where a new character is introduced: Roland. He doesn't show spite to Vanitas, but still sees him with condescension, denying that he is acting out of his own free will. And this, to the former Chasseur who was left by the rest of them in Moreau's clutches, is untolerable. Roland means well, but he's going at it the wrong way.

After the fight with Roland, there is another argument between Vanitas and Noé. Vanitas does exactly what Noé had done before: shields him. This sends Noé on a sermon about how Vanitas, as a human, is weak and shouldn't take such risks, which infuriates the other boy: he bites back by calling Noé overconfident, citing the Ruthven accident as an example. This confuses Noé, because didn't he want him to become his shield?

I suspect that this was both Vanitas tendency to sacrifice himself for others, and a sign of tentative trust towards Noé. He does the same thing the vampire did for him ... and got rebuked, and called weak for his trouble. Noé's attitude is too patronizing to be seen as an actual sign of concern,and his already bad mood sours considerably.

Well, there is to say that after a similar crisis repeats itself a chapter later, complete with anti-vampire slurs on Vanitas part, Noè amends ... by using him as a fake hostage against Roland, which is still better that treating him as if he was weak.

Now, Noé might be naive in a lot of regards, but he is not stupid. From that moment onwards, he gets that Vanitas will be treated as an equal. He won't force him into dangerous situations, but he won't even treat him like he's too frail for it. He will be incouraging, but not condescending. And the result is that he actually snaps Vanitas out from his trauma-induced flashbacks, and gets him to be more open and trusting than he has ever been.

In the Gevaudan arc, Vanitas's emotional connections get shaken on two fronts: Noé 's and Jeanne's.

In this arc, he is the one to encourage and support Noé. He gives him advice on how to handle Astolfo; he gets worried about him when he's captured by Chloé (even if he expresses it in his own way).

He saves Noé from getting lost into Jean-Jacques's memories, listens to what he has to say, and concedes to what he wants, where at the start of the manga he was all 'my way or the highway'. He even almost (almost) admits that he was worried about Noé!

He still receives some actual support: demostrations of Noé's spirit which are good for the soul, and a proclamation that he believes in what Vanitas thinks about the origin of Malnomen, the first time a vampire says something like that. Vani plays grumpy, but he is obviously very shaken, in a positive way.

He finally shows Jeanne some actual support: he is cold to her after he was unwillingly vulnerable in her presence due to his illness, but pushes that aside rather quickly, in order to help her realize what she truly wants (saving Chloé instead of killing her) and that she's right to want it. He reminds her that she's a person, not a tool.

And she's grateful for it, and has definitely no qualms about expressing it. The result is that our hero spends days in blue screen, to then have a complete freakout at the possibility of being actually in love with Jeanne. He's so out of it, he ends up oversharing his feelings of being undeserving of love to a Roland who he doesn't like and a Olivier he has never met before. Still, it's the first time he flat-out says his issues.

This brings us to his rooftop conversation with Noé. I really liked the vampire's behaviour here: he was comforting in a sort of roundabout way, à la Vanitas. He said that he is happy Vanitas is the way he is, even if he still doesn't like him very much. Translation: you're a way better person than you think you are, and you deserve to be loved. This is coming from a totally unbiased place, I'm not a weird person who would like you or something.

And this is the last conversation we see between the two of them: as of the time of this writing, Noé has been compelled to drink Misha's blood, and Vanitas has just arrived on the scene.

Vanitas has seen his self-loathing perspective challenged and has changed a lot in the span of a rather short time, and I really don't know how he'll react to Noé learning the details of his past; he sure won't want any form of compassion. Personally, I suspect he'll be very cold to Noé for quite some time, possibly even trying to drive him away, before a reconciliation.

Thanks to anyone who bothered to read my ramblings!

#vnc #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #vanitas no shuki #vnc vanitas #vnc meta #vnc analysis #vnc noe #vnc jeanne #vnc luna #vnc mikhail #elia's recaps

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cienie-isengardu · 3 years

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Can you do headcanons on SubScorp (Kuai Liang / Hanzo Hasashi) and the evolution of their relationship, please? ♡

Sure, just please keep in mind that rock has a better romantic sense than I ever will. I’m not a shipper in general and SubScorp has a lot to overcome in my mind to even get close as friends but I will do my best! In advance, sorry for the long text and especially opening. My hand slipped but I needed to build the romantic headcanons on something.

Oh, and I kinda threw away the canon timeline here and there and went with how I would write their relationship (and story, I guess) if I was given the chance.

At the beginning, Hanzo and Kuai were bitter enemies and their hate for each other was the exact reason why Quan Chi kept them working together. The revenants were creatures of vivid emotions, twisted and corrupted by Netherrealm fire. So the stronger they hated, the mightier were their unnatural powers. But there was also a more sinister reason: Quan Chi kept them together, day after day, because it amused him to watch how Sub-Zero and Scorpion wanted to hurt each other but always were defenseless against his magic, always blindly obedient. To have two deadliest of enemies as slaves under his power was the best perk of necromancy.

When they were revenants though, Quan Chi’s cruel joke meant nothing. Kuai Liang had no free will, no remorse, only hate and pain to go on. Hanzo could - should - run away, but didn’t. He was broken in thousands of little ways and it was easier to follow orders, to not think than take responsibility for his own choices, to face the utterly devastating feeling of failure. It wasn't a good life - it wasn’t a life at all, but it was all they had.

After so many days turned into weeks turned into months, the constant presence of each other became the punishment and the salvation at once. They hated each other and this hate never truly left them for a moment, never let them feel peace of mind. They hated each other but it was an emotion that bonded them together, grounded in reality, made sense in an otherwise senseless world.

Hanzo and Kuai Liang got used to each other that the presence of mutual disdain was as normal part of their cursed life as breathing for a living person.

But then Quan Chi lost and suddenly they both were brought to life against their will. The first weeks were the worst. They were victims of dark magic, everyone was saying but none of them was a killer responsible for thousands of brutal deaths. Not like Hanzo and Kuai Liang and because of that, the burden of guilt was their alone. A burden they didn’t want to share among themselves, so they sought out different paths to find some solace.

For Hanzo, there was nothing to come back. The home of Shirai Ryu was destroyed, devastated beyond any measure. He still heard clearly Quan Chi’s voice in his head, how he failed his clan, how shamed his wife and child. Hanzo felt dirty and unworthy and utterly lost. The once mighty Scorpion was now a wreck, a directionless nomad.

For Kuai Liang, the home was Lin Kuei but it was taken by cyber monsters without souls. Once he returned to living, those monsters hunted him restlessly. For years he ran and hid and killed and killed and killed and killed until he was ready to face Sektor and reclaim what was once his. An honor and a purpose in life, so he could find Scorpion and kill him for brother’s death. But then he learned dark secrets of the clan and even darker truths that changed everything.

Because of that, Kuai Liang invited Hanzo to Lin Kuei Temple, offered peace and a new start, a way to atone for all crimes and sins they committed arm to arm during war. Above everything else, offered the truth that finally set them both free from their cruel past.

They did not keep in touch then though. They met sporadically, when Raiden asked his Champions to assist in this or that little crisis. To hunt the demons that somehow survived the war, to find oh so rare, mystic artifact or two, or do a quick job in the Outworld. They were assassins after all and Special Forces the heroes who shouldn’t dirty their hands.

During those meetings, Hanzo and Kuai Liang tried to stay as far as possible without making a fuss about it. During missions though there was no one who could safely separate them, and thus save them from painful memories of the past.

It was terrifying to Hanzo how much he missed Sub-Zero’s cold presence at his side, even if the so well known hate for Bi-Han’s death still hid beneath the cryomancer's skin like a furious, wild beast, always present, never forgiving, kept in check only by Lin Kuei’s iron will.

It was terrifying for Kuai Liang how well he still understood Scorpion’s body language even though the ninja tried so desperately to hide scars left by Quan Chi on his soul, all those unsaid horrors he experienced, all the doubts and pain and self-hatred that burned as hot as Netherrealm fire that twisted them both.

But those sporadic joint missions alone weren’t what helped them connect once and forever.

Ironically, it was the guilt that let one understand so well the other, to know when it was a good time for jab and when not to speak - not to see - raw pain that both so hard tried to bury under their respective masks, of cold politeness and hot devotion to the past. Surprisingly, it was also the arrogance of united governments that wanted to use them to expand Earthrealm’s control over wild Outworld yet did not see them as human beings. To be seen as a useful tool but never truly welcome wasn’t anything new for any of them. Kuai Liang and Hanzo were a relic of a dark past that should have died years ago yet were too stubborn to just yield and blindly follow orders even again. This burning desire for independence and search for their lost humanity built a common ground, the bridge between past hate and empathy.

This, and their shared disdain for Johnny’s never ending jokes. In the past, every time the Champions of Earthrealm met in the same place and Cage opened his mouth to talk Hollywood's weirdness, Hanzo got closer and closer to Kuai Liang. There was no word of recognition or permission - one look at each other and they understood perfectly it was either stay strong together and endure this senseless, annoying wave of words or do something regrettable.

And because they already had enough guilt to worry about, Sub-Zero and Scorpion simply stood arm to arm, like they did during war. Somehow that comforting familiarity grew up into something much stronger; not yet friendship but unity anyway. Time did not heal them but the mutual hate faded little by little, day after day until pain was nothing more than bitter ache they simply learned to live with.

Despite everything and everyone, Hanzo and Kuai Liang got to trust each other, to rely on a bond that was once a cruel Quan Chi’s joke.

Sub-Zero was the person that accompanied Hanzo to the Shirai-Ryu clan’s ruins, so he could finally bury dead ones left there forgotten by the world. Hanzo should have done that long ago, he knew, but the claw of fear clung to his heart for years and would not let it. The fear that Hanzo Hasashi never truly existed and he was a fraud, another lie begotten by Netherrealm. That there was no Harumi nor Satoshi and in the end he clinged so desperately to a nightmare that never was true to begin with. A nightmare for which he murdered the wrong person and brought someone else this maddening pain.

Seeing the ruins of home - the once so familiar bodies now just flesh spread out, glistening bones scattered everywhere, ripped and crushed, forgotten - was like dying again. Hanzo broke down and for the first time in a decade allowed himself to cry. Kuai Liang was there by his side, offering no wise words, nor comfort. He simply sat there, back to back with Hanzo, so he could know he wasn’t truly left alone this time yet quietly like a shadow to not disturb his grief. Hanzo would never forget this kindness for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t forget the sacrifice made that day by Sub-Zero to come to mortuary ruins, to bury another clan slaughtered without mercy in the name of madness and spite.

But with pain came also relief, that his memories were truly his and not another sweet lie whispered to his ear by a twisted sorcerer.

(Kuai Liang came here because it was the right thing to do. To pay respect and melt the dark past into a better future in which Shirai Ryu and Lin Kuei could be an ally, maybe even brothers in arms. He came for Hanzo, because no one did that for him, when he had countless bodies of comrades to bury after Sektor’s defeat and no one should be forced to do so alone. He came there also for himself, to see and be sure Bi-Han wasn’t part of the heartless crime. The hallmarks of a frontal attack, chaotic destruction and coarse, devoid of surgical precision violence were proof it wasn’t Bi-Han’s work. His brother would never be so sloppy, so random in his attack. He even told so Hanzo, in this moment of relief and social clumsiness and Scorpion just looked at him with the reddened eyes and did not burst in flame of anger, just… accepted the truth and Kuai Liang said no more about it.)

Scorpion was the person that stayed at Kuai Liang’s side when Frost betrayed her master and disappeared without a trace. He never liked the cryomancer girl - she reminded him too much of Sub-Zero who sought him for brother’s death. Young and brash, untamed, always snarling, spitting with venom in their face. But above everything else, Frost’s anger burned too hot like his own and he hated to look at her and to see himself.

Maybe losing such a precious student - an heir - was like losing a child. Hanzo understood this crushing feeling but there were no right words to offer. Even if he knew them, Sub-Zero did not want pity, did not want to talk. All he needed was a space to unleash fury and pain, the excess of emotions too large to bury them in the tomb of a cold heart. And so day after day, night after night, the ice and fire clashed over and over again until all muscles burned and the ache brought finally some peace. Not much, but enough to let Kuai Liang not dwell on his failure and focus on Grandmaster’s duties.

(There was something off about this whole situation but Hanzo couldn’t pick on what exactly. Kuai Liang had secrets he didn’t share, not yet and Hanzo respected his wishes, trusting Lin Kuei’s word. So far, Kuai Liang never had let him down. Scorpion trusted and it was terrifying on its own).

Those were the little steps into a path that brought them closer. It wasn't love for each other then, not even romantic infatuation, but love for the lost one, for family that was once but no longer. They understood this grief too well.

The first time Hanzo felt the pang of love, he and Kuai Liang were debating about the proper course of the upcoming mission. They were sitting in Hanzo’s room, with an open door leading to the Fire Garden. Then, without warning came spring rain and both looked out on instinct. The air was filled with the freshness of trees and flowers coming back to life; a freshness they breathed in greedily to wash out the taste of Netherrealm ash forever.

On that day, everything seemed to be in the right place. Just the two of them, sitting arm to arm delighted by the simplest things in life; a warm rain, nourishing garden, a steaming mug of tea between all of this. There was a peace Hanzo did not feel for ages and the sound of the rain and steady breath of his companion lulled him into half-sleep, half-awareness.

On that day, Hanzo wished to keep this moment forever.

The second time Hanzo felt something toward Kuai Liang, it was on Lin Kuei’s training ground. They spared, like they always did in their free or stressful time, but for whatever reason, Kuai Liang smiled at him, this soft, weirdly cocky smile he rarely shows in company and Hanzo looked at it for a few seconds too long before he understood how fast his heart beat, how warmness filled him - not the Netherrealm fire that burns through his muscles and bones, but warmth that he felt only around his wife and child. He wanted to kiss those lips, to feel its coldness on his own. It was wrong on so many levels and he did what he always does in times of overwhelming emotions he didn’t like. He disappeared into flames and ran the hell away from Sub-Zero’s smile. The burned holes to this day were the proof of his shameful panic.

Where did such obscene thoughts come from, he did not have an idea. But the guilt for having them even for a moment about Kuai Liang - any man, really - was too heavy, too suffocating to face Sub-Zero. So Hanzo avoided him for weeks.

And yet, he came back to Lin Kuei Temple. And again and again and again. Despite the burning shame, he sought out Kuai Liang, because only around him, the Netherrealm’s cursed fire cooled down enough to allow him to breathe.

So he danced, between disgrace and this weird feeling of happiness, of living again. Of seeking out the cryomancer and running away from horrific emotion he didn’t know how to get rid off, how to tame.

(Hanzo loved Harumi with all his heart. How could he love - desire - anyone else? And a man whose brother he unjustly killed?)

Kuai Liang decided to not discuss Scorpion’s emotional swings until Hanzo figured it out for himself what he truly wanted. There was no point to get involved into some sentimental drama if there was no hope for sensible agreement.

The Lin Kuei always desired a new generation of warriors, so sex wasn’t any taboo. Some warriors sought comfort in the arms of strange women and men, some between each other. Sex wasn’t forbidden but the emotions were. To feel loyalty or worse, love, to a fellow warrior instead of trusting the masters was a crime.

Kuai Liang did not feel any sudden pang of love toward Hanzo, nor any desire for physical contact. Romanticism never was part of any cryomancer’s nature. He missed his brother and Smoke, but year after year the pain of loss dulled enough to leave him with nothingness. Kuai Liang knew only this: somehow Scorpion became the only source of warmth that kept his heart from freezing completely.

Kuai Liang didn’t have a proper name for what twirled in his soul - a friendship or a love, how one could tell those apart? He wished his older brother or Smoke was there to tell him it was alright to like - care for - Hanzo, but both were dead and twisted into monsters. It was just him and his fragile, scarred heart to judge what was right and what was not. And hope Bi-Han would forgive him the weakness.

They find the balance that keeps both safe, warming the frozen heart and cooling down the neverending flame of anger. For a decade or so, it worked well.

But then Hanzo killed Quan Chi and ruined the chance to free revenants from sorcerer’s curse. The Champions of Earthrealm never liked Scorpion to begin with, now he was persona non grata. Rightly so. Imprisoned, he awaited their judgment. Scorpion could easily escape but chose not to - he was ready to face the consequences yet there was no court nor punishment. The Grandmaster of Lin Kuei came for him and made it clear to all representatives of the united governments and army that he will with Hanzo at his side, over their dead bodies if need be.

Twenty years was not enough time to forget what they together were capable of in fight. How dangerous and experienced murderers they were. No one dared to stop them when they left military base together.

Kuai Liang did not rely on words to show his feelings. Deeds always spoke more than any pretty speech. He was disappointed yet he still came for Hanzo. He saw Scorpion’s arrogance, egoism, breaking point and still came and that only made Hanzo love him more. For the first time, he did not feel shame or guilt for loving - and being loved - by another man.

Hanzo Hasashi’s choice almost brought destruction to the world yet somehow, this tragedy made them inseparable for good. It wasn’t always easy - they argued, for fun and for real and there were still rare days when it was only wise to stay away from each other. Like the day of Bi-Han’s unjust death and the lost chance to bring Harumi and Satoshi to life. They were beyond the primal hate yet some instincts were too strong to risk destroying what they built for themselves over the years.

Somehow through the years they changed from Sub-Zero and Scorpion to Grandmasters of their respective clans and from those to just Kuai Liang and Hanzo.

Hanzo wasn’t used to being so casually called by name but he liked the change. It was Sub-Zero’s voice, he suspected, that made him feel so attracted. At the same time, he felt honored when Kuai Liang told his birth - forbidden - name. He knew it already, for years, but it was different to know and be told, allowed, to use it freely.

Hanzo’s turbulent relationship with other Champions got worse once his student, Takeda started dating Jaqueline Briggs. The Champions distrusted and disliked him and he didn’t feel any need to reconcile with them. Kuai Liang was disappointed in him for treating the girl coldly but everytime asked why he still bothered to deal with Shirai Ruy Grandmaster, the answer was one and the same - he is my equal. For Hanzo it was the most beautiful and terrifying declaration.

(At the same time, everytime Hanzo heard someone accusing Sub-Zero of being cold, heartless, untouched by trauma, the anger burned him wholly. Who were they to judge, to mock Kuai Liang’s pain that hid so well under polite words and calmness? He did not care what people said about him, but would not stand any mockery against those he respected - loved - so much.)

Then of course another immortal being decided to screw up everything and messed up timelines. The younger, brash and mad version of Scorpion wasn’t something that Hanzo and Kuai Liang actually wanted to see, nor the repeat of Cyber Lin Kuei. Then Hanzo died and woke up, again trapped in Netherrealm. So he ran at the first chance, thinking more about Kuai Liang than about his own fears of burning alive in hell forever. The sight of Sub-Zero in hell should have alarmed him - and it did, for a moment, scare Hanzo that the other man died too which was an unbearable thought. But Kuai Liang was alive and so, so determined to bring him back home. If that wasn’t the loudest, the most tangible declaration of love, what else could it be?

And so, like twenty years ago, they fight side to side, like one body and soul. And destroyed, killed, tore apart demons and hellspawn, everything and everyone that stood in their way to freedom, to safety of Earthrealm’s boundaries. First time in ages, they could unleash their anger at those who hurt them, enslaved, and used. It felt so good, so right to be a storm of vengeful fury that frightened even the mighty Netherrealm. They were alive and together and nothing, no gods, titans or destiny, could stop them.

Kuai Liang and Hanzo did not talk much about their last visit in Netherrealm. What happened there was their and only their moment to relish, incomprehensible for bystanders. It was weird though, to come back to live and face his younger, stubborn self. Kuai Liang did not like this Scorpion much and to be honest, Hanzo did not like this version of himself too. It was Scorpion from the darkest time in their past, when only mutual hate connected them. At the same time, there was something amusing to see himself so awkward and uneasy everytime when Kuai Liang and older Hanzo sat so closely, relaxed and calm, like it was the normalest thing to do. When they acted like halves of the same soul.

Kuai Liang never was keen to show any romantic gestures but sometimes he took Hanzo’s hand to emphasize clearly what they were. Hanzo was always surprised by Sub-Zero’s openness and filled with joy, whereas his younger self was confused as hell. Hanzo suspected he would soon need to talk and explain to his younger self what he and Kuai Liang were to each other. Why they needed each other so much and how loving someone else other than Harumi was not dishonor. After all, love wasn’t sin nor weakness.

#mortal kombat #my replies #kuai liang #hanzo hasashi #sub zero #scorpion #my headcanons #long text #not sure if this is enough about romantic aspect of their relationship #and i will forever see kuai liang as asexual aromantic sorry not sorry at all #hanzo is emotional wreck #kuai is depressed and somehow they could work i guess?#thank you for ask!#i have more to say about the mk11 storyline but the text was already too long to bring bi han into the emotional life of his lil bro

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

Text

any port in a storm

Pixal and Lloyd and the evolving nature of friendship, as highlighted by the regular burning down of your city.

(desperately trying to break through writer’s block and classes again, this was supposed to be under 2k and it is...very much not hdfjkgh but! i’ve been meaning to write for Pixal and Lloyd for a while so here are a whole bunch of feelings about the two of them and s8)

Pixal meets — truly meets — Lloyd Garmadon shortly after his brother’s been blown to pieces.

She says truly, because if you ask her, Pixal will tell you she met Lloyd Garmadon at exactly 8:48 in the evening outside his father’s monastery, moments before a horde of nindroids led there by Pixal herself descended upon them.

But Lloyd argues that since they said about two words total to each other, it doesn’t really count as meeting, and by the time Pixal’s spending the better part of her day with him running high and low around Ninjago City, she’s learned that it’s easier not to press the point.

Lloyd can be stubborn, like that.

She’d first learned that when she’d met him, just after they’d lost Zane. That loss hadn’t lasted long, especially for Pixal, but the immediate aftermath of it had been devastating. She’d watched with blank eyes as the team had fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise.

All of them had fled, save Lloyd. She hadn’t paid him much attention before that point, the surprisingly small bearer of the Golden Power. Of course, he wasn’t the bearer of that power anymore, but his eyes alone had shown the experience of it. There’d been a brief, lost look that had crossed his face as the others had mentioned leaving, before it had been swept under a mask of stubborn, determined blankness. He wouldn’t be leaving. Someone had to stay behind and watch out for things, he’d claimed, even as the loss had bled through his voice.

Pixal hadn’t quite grasped the concept of empathy at that point, but she’d felt something dangerously close to it.

At any rate, the only interaction they’d had alone was brief. In fact, the only one Pixal can truly remember — and her memory never fails — is the quick exchange they’d had in the hospital lobby directly after the battle. The hospital was for Mr. Borg, and for the ninja’s minor injuries.

There was nothing any hospital on earth could do for Zane.

Pixal had found herself next to Lloyd in the waiting room, trying to distract herself from those thoughts while Lloyd stared at the stark white tiling with dull eyes.

“They never mentioned what your power was,” she’d asked him, almost absently. Collecting data, processing information — anything she could do to distract from the crushing grief.

“Oh.” Lloyd had blinked, startling back into awareness. He’d suddenly looked painfully young. “It’s, ah, I guess it’s just green, now.”

It had been Pixal’s turn to blink. “Green.”

“Yeah.” Lloyd had bit his lip, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, two habits he’ll never quite lose. “I mean — it’s more than that, but it’s like — energy, I guess, is the best way to put it?”

“Interesting,” Pixal had remarked.

“Yeah.”

They’d stared at each other in silence after that, before they’d both been called off to other errands — and then they were having Zane’s funeral and then Pixal was making realizations she never got to tell anyone, and that had been that in her early introductions to Lloyd Garmadon. Quiet, awkward, and possessing an incredible power he hardly even knew the name of.

Looking back, Pixal figures her introduction hadn’t gone much better.

They’d continued as passing acquaintances as time went on, separated by danger and the confines of Zane’s head, and Pixal had figured that’s all they’d ever be. But then their Sensei goes missing and, despite Pixal’s increasing disappearances on Zane as she rebuilds her own body, she’s been given the role of watching out for Ninjago city along with Lloyd.

She quickly learns that quiet is not a term fit for Lloyd Garmadon when you’re trapped alone with him.

************

“How is there not a single station playing actual music?” Lloyd seethes, flicking through the channels almost manically. “It’s two am, who’s gonna be listening to your stupid commercial for toothpaste now, are you kidding me?”

“Statistically speaking, this is the prime time for long-distance driving near Ninjago City,” Pixal supplies, her voice a hint scratchy where it comes through the his car’s radio speakers. “Or, if you factor in the construction in the east district, there could still be traffic from late-night bars.”

Lloyd groans, thunking his head against the steering wheel as another ad screeches through the small space. “Wonderful.”

“Your vocal tones suggest you find it otherwise.”

“Dont trust ‘em, my vocal tones are traitors.” As if to solidify his point, Lloyd’s voice cracks in the middle of his sentence, shooting up an octave higher. Lloyd goes bright red, and thunks his head against the steering wheel again.

Taking pity on him, Pixal aims for reassurance. “It is normal for your voice to break, Lloyd. It shouldn’t last too long.” She pauses, momentarily scanning through another article. “On second thought, this one suggests it could also take two to three years for your voice to stabilize.”

Lloyd gives a strangled moan. “End me.”

“Unfortunately, that would defeat the purpose of why I’m here in the first place.”

Lloyd tilts his head, cracking an eye open as he glances at the camera feed he knows she’s watching him from. “Unfortunately, huh,” he muses. “So you’re saying if Zane hadn’t made you promise to look out for me, you would end me?”

“That — no, that is not — of course I wouldn’t end you,” Pixal backtracks. An odd feeling flickers through her, almost as if she’s lost her place, floundering.

Or embarrassed might be more accurate, she thinks wryly. She briefly considers projecting a a glaring face at Lloyd from the monitor. This is his fault. She rarely stuttered before Lloyd started teasing her at all hours of the morning.

“I mean, you wouldn’t be the first,” Lloyd continues, conversationally. “And if we’re being honest, I’d definitely rather you be the one to off me, instead of like, random bad guy number eighty-five—”

“I know you think you are funny,” Pixal cuts over him. “But casually planning for your death is something Kai listed I was not to let you do. Also, it is not nearly as funny as you think it is.”

“Ouch,” Lloyd mutters, though he looks chastised. “Never mind, you just took me out in one sentence.”

Chastised might be the wrong term.

Pixal studies him through the monitor, then sighs. “I am, however, honored you think highly enough of me to offer the right to murder you,” she gives in.

She’s rewarded as Lloyd breaks into a bright grin.

He still looks painfully young these days, but it’s less obvious. His voice is pitching lower and he wears his hair different, and he’s gained a whip-like tendency to quip at people, as Pixal’s experienced firsthand. Kai calls it sass in grumbling but fond tones, and Nya calls it snark somewhere between the fourth book series she’s sent for Pixal to try.

The ninja have been kind like that, sharing the interests they have in an attempt to make her feel…well, more human, she supposes. Less confined to a voice in a computer. Of course, Pixal isn’t confined to a voice in a computer anymore, but they don’t know that yet. She’ll tell them someday soon, she promises herself. Any day now.

In the meantime, it’s easy enough to keep up with Lloyd by lurking in his car radio, as he spends half his time in there anyways.

************

“You’d think we’d have found their hideout by now,” Lloyd notes, as they wait in a darkened alleyway again. It gives them an excellent view of the major highways, so if the rumored biker gang does show up, they won’t miss it.

If they show up being the key point.

“Whoever their leader is, they certainly know how to keep a low profile,” Pixal answers, closing out another dead end police report in frustration.

“It’s weird,” Lloyd says, propping the notebook he’s sketching in on his knee as he squints at the paper. “Normally the boss types aren’t this quiet. They like to show off, y’know? Make a big scene, dramatic speeches and all.”

“Are you referring to the villains, or yourselves?”

“Touché,” Lloyd snorts. “But still, you gotta admit it’s weird they haven’t even made any demands. What’s their end game here, elaborate advertising for motorcycle design?”

“I would hope not,” Pixal says. “Their color coordination is lacking.”

Lloyd fights back a smile, his pencil scratching as he shifts his notebook again. “I don’t know, I kinda like the punk look.”

“I noticed that, when you tried to redecorate the car.”

“Hey, skulls are cool.”

“They are also conspicuous, especially when they come in acid green colors.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Lloyd sighs, making a face as he scrubs the eraser across the paper. Pixal tries to tilt the camera further, to see what he’s drawing tonight, but the angle he’s holding it at remains just out of sight.

She could probably guess what he’s drawing, if she tried. The notebook is one they’ve been steadily working their way through on these late-night patrols, the pages filled with little hangman games and Lloyd’s sketches of animals and his teammates. He’s drawn her a few times from memory, and she’s been tempted to ask him to draw her in the new Samurai X armor more than once.

Soon, she tells herself.

“What are you drawing?” she finally asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

Lloyd’s cheeks tinge pink, and he quickly plasters the notebook to his chest, hiding it entirely from view. “Nothing.”

Pixal waits, letting the silence fill with her judgement. “Lloyd, I have seen your drawings before.”

He doesn’t reply, and Pixal tries again. “It gets boring, being stuck with the car monitors for eyes.”

“I know you can hack other cameras,” Lloyd mutters, but he sighs, relenting as he turns the notebook over. Pixal’s eyes rake over the detailed sketch — it’s a comical little thing of her and Lloyd, jammed together on a tiny lifeboat in the middle of a darkening ocean. She can spot the smudges where he’s redrawn her head several times, and the numerous attempts he’s made at his own hair. Pixal studies Lloyd’s portrayal of himself, which is noticeably lacking in facial features. While Lloyd draws the others plenty, it’s a rare occasion that he draws himself, and she can’t help but be curious.

“I thought you were drawing the others again,” she admits.

“They’re on the ship,” Lloyd says, absently. “I’ll draw them when they remember to pull us back in.”

There’s nothing bitter in his tone to suggest it has any bearing on their actual lives, but the lost expressions Lloyd ends up giving their tiny caricatures feel familiar nonetheless.

“Zane has assured me they will be back as soon as they can,” Pixal speaks ups quietly.

Lloyd finally looks up fully, and flashes the monitor a smile. “I know,” he says. “So we better have this thing busted by the time they do, or they’ll never let us run a city on our own again.”

“If only we were truly running the city,” Pixal grumbles. “I could do a better job in two days than the current leaders could do in a year.”

“I’d vote for you,” Lloyd says, sincerely.

It’s a sweet gesture, but Pixal is unable to resist. “You don’t know how to vote.”

“Yes I do, it’s not hard!”

“Really? Then why are you not currently registered in the Ninjago voting system?”

Lloyd makes a strangled noise. “That’s a thing?”

She’s unable to keep the smugness from her voice. “I make my point.” Lloyd scowls, and scribbles a mustache on his drawing of her in revenge.

Pixal thinks it looks nice nonetheless.

************

She can’t really hold it against Lloyd for talking as much as he does, considering she does the same. It gets dull, sitting on patrol for hours on end, and there are only so many hours of light reading they can do before the silence begins to drive them both insane.

Pixal finds herself talking about more useless things with Lloyd than she has in her existence, pointless conversations in circles with each other. She also finds she doesn’t entirely mind. She’s become quite good at quipping back and forth with him, at least. It’s different than the kind of talk she has with Zane, lacking in the depth of feeling with the love they share. Her exchanges with Lloyd are lighter, though that’s not to say they’re less sincere.

For example, Zane hasn’t tried to teach her how to redesign a gi in poor lighting in the early hours of the morning because he’s bored out of his mind, that’s for sure.

“I’m teaching you how to sew,” Lloyd corrects, wincing as he accidentally stabs himself with the needle. “And I’m not redesigning the whole thing, I’m just adding some designs to spice it up.”

“I did not know you were allowed to wear colors other than green,” Pixal comments.

Lloyd pauses, squinting at the monitor. “You’re teasing me,” he finally says. “You’re making fun of how much green this gi has in it.”

“I would never,” Pixal replies, her tone flat and even. “The intricacies of your human humor evade me—”

“Human humor, nice—”

“—unlike the unusually bright shade of green you’ve chosen will fail to evade any eyes of your enemies.”

“I knew you were making fun of me!” Lloyd accuses, then flinches as he stabs his finger again trying to point at her. “And bright colors are our thing. Being subtle is, uh…not. Usually.”

Pixal is losing the battle to laugh at his expression by the minute. “I am shocked.”

Lloyd glares at the monitor, shifting his sewing to rest on his knees as he slouches in the car seat. “How’d you even get so good at sarcasm, anyways,” he mutters. “Zane still doesn’t get it half the time.”

“Perhaps it is part of my glowing personality,” Pixal says. Lloyd gives a huff of laughter, relenting.

“Fair enough,” he says, shifting in his seat again. “Fine, you win. The green is probably too bright, but that’s not the point. I’m gonna show you how to do a backstitch."

Pixal falls quiet, letting Lloyd gesture with the needle as he explains. There are a hundred, a thousand tutorials she could pull up online, digitized knowledge instantly learned on all the countless types of stitches she could use, sorted and categorized in neat columns of use and effectiveness. All of them more detailed, more easily understood than Lloyd’s absent rambling and unsteady hands as he struggles with the end of a knot.

Not one of them will care whether or not Pixal learns the odd way Zane likes to loop his stitches, or will quietly add which stitches knit skin back together quickest.

So Pixal ignores her programming, and does her best to follow Lloyd’s rambling instructions, watching as his scarred fingers tug another thread of dull gold through the green mess of fabric, the city quiet around them.

“You never did tell me where you learned how to sew,” Pixal says, as Lloyd starts up a new thread of black on the other side of the gi. “Was that something the others taught you in training?”

“They’d have to know how to be able to teach it,” Lloyd snickers. “And, uh, no. I taught myself to back at Darkley’s.”

“Oh,” Pixal falters. She’s heard about Darkley’s, both from Zane and the legal reports she’s read online. Neither gave a positive impression of the place. Her mind is suddenly filled with images of a younger Lloyd trying to give himself stitches, and her heart twists.

Lloyd starts, seemingly having picked up on her train of thought. “I mean, I did it for fun, mostly. I like sewing,” he explains. “It’s useful. You can pull things back together, and fix ‘em.”

Pixal is quiet, but she hopes Lloyd takes her silence as agreement with his motive. She likes to think he knows her well enough for that, by now.

************

Pixal finds, somewhere during their fourth month alone, that she’s glad the team elected to stick her and Lloyd together. Not because she doesn’t want to be with Zane — there’s never a moment she doesn’t miss him, and with every day that passes her resolve to keep her secret from him grows weaker, as the longing for actual connection grows stronger.

But there are conversations she can have with Lloyd that she can never have with Zane, and the dangerous thing about spending time with Lloyd, Pixal finds, is that they’re more similar than she’s realized.

“Sometimes I think I’m jealous,” Lloyd whispers to her one night. It’s one of the bad ones, the ones where their enemies struck too sudden to stop, and the mission ends in the hospital. “I think I’m jealous of Zane, and I hate myself for it.”

Pixal is quiet, trying to pick apart the tone of his voice in the words he’s just spoken, and factors in the victims they’ve just left behind at the hospital. She finds herself no closer to an answer.

“Is it the metal skin part?” she finally asks, though she knows that’s wrong. “The, what was it, technical immortality?”

“No,” Lloyd shakes his head. “I’m not afraid of dying,” he says emphatically, his fingers fluttering at over the steering wheel, tapping incessantly with unspent energy. “I don’t want to, but that’s — it’s not what I’m scared of. I’m more scared of how I go out.”

He swallows, and his fingers move to dance over the woven bracelet on his wrist instead, twisting at the tiny beads and tracing senseless designs in constant, steady movement. It’s a motion he does often, and it had puzzled Pixal at first. She’d decided to write it off as an odd tick, a way to spend excess energy.

Now, she recognizes the desperate kind of reassurance that movement gives. She understands too well the need to remind yourself that you can move — that your body will obey you and you alone.

Pixal thinks back to the other factors in tonight’s accident, of the way the drugged man’s eyes had cleared when they’d finally turned him over to the police, the way he’d sworn he’d never do such a thing in his right mind. She thinks of the way the first victim had thrown themselves over their companion.

That victim hadn’t made it to the hospital.

“Ah,” Pixal says, quietly.

She’s silent again, and she thinks back to when she’d met him, the very first time. She recalls the way her programming had rebelled against her in favor of the Overlord, corrupting her body and forcing it against her, twisting everything she was and wanted to be into something different.

She thinks back again, to the searing-hot anger, the terror, the despair as she was torn apart, piece by piece like a machine, burning out at the whims of another. Her end purposeless, her demise belonging to someone else, just like every other part of her.

She thinks of the last glimpse she’d caught of Zane, bright and beautiful as a supernova. Burning with the terrible brilliance of his own, determined choice. Terrible, because the death of something always is. Beautiful, because it was his own. Zane died, not a machine, not a weapon, not a tool of anyone or anything, but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves. Pixal could’ve died for spare parts.

Never again, she promises herself. If she goes out, she goes out on her own terms. This time, they choose the end of their own destiny themselves.

In hindsight, it’s the kind of promise they’re both too young to make, but neither of them have ever seen themselves as such, and promises like that are easy.

“Love can be terrible, sometimes,” Lloyd murmurs. Pixal watches him scrub at the blood on his uniform, and thinks how ironically well-timed it is that he finished the stitching on his new gi this morning. “Sometimes I forget how ugly it can be.”

************

The end of their nighttime stakeouts begins with a break-in at Mr. Borg’s tower. Lloyd argues that she should get to call it her father’s tower, if she wants, but the ninja aren’t the only ones Pixal’s hiding herself from.

And then Lloyd gets very tense at the thought of fathers very fast, and they never finish the conversation.

They stay at the edge of the bridge long after the parachute, emblazoned with the unmistakable visage of Lloyd’s father, disappears from sight. Pixal wonders if it’s burned into Lloyd’s eyes, like the way she’s read black spots linger in humans’ vision after they’ve looked at something too bright. The way Lloyd stares at the river, his shoulders tense and his teeth worrying at his lip, she thinks she might be right.

They’re waiting on the report from the commissioner —they’re waiting for anything, anyone who can offer them any explanation of what’s going on. Pixal’s reminded of how much she loathes this kind of waiting.

“It could be—” Lloyd begins, then breaks off, his voice wavering. He swallows, and Pixal can see the way his fists clench tightly from the cameras they’ve put in his car. There’s a fierce part of her that longs to reveal herself, to meet his eyes herself and offer some semblance of comfort. But there’s a time and place for things, and Pixal isn’t ready.

“It could be anything,” Lloyd finally continues, his voice small. “It could — it doesn’t mean anything. It could mean nothing, right?”

Pixal is silent, her mind racing. She’s run the calculations over and over in her head already, scouring the internet for anything related to the bikers. She’s been foolish, she realizes — they both have. Letting the gang go unnamed for so long, thinking nothing of it. Now, with the name flashing vibrant across Pixal’s vision, a part of her wants to let them go nameless just a bit longer.

Before she can answer, Lloyds phone goes off with a sharp ping, just as Pixal’s sensors alert her to the message from the commissioner. Lloyd snatches for his phone like it’s on fire, and Pixal’s already scanning the message frantically, as if she can salvage this if she’s fast enough, save Lloyd from this one pain.

Lloyd’s gotten much better at reading quickly though, these days.

She can pinpoint the moment he reaches the last paragraph, because his breath hitches. There’s a long, pressing pause of silence, Lloyd’s hands trembling as they clutch weakly at his phone. Then it’s punctured by a reedy, wheezing gasp, and Pixal’s suddenly wishing she’d revealed herself after all.

Instead, all she has is her voice as Lloyd crumples, crouching over in visible distress. Pixal’s mind races, recalling everything Zane’s ever told her about his team, the way their panic manifests in different shades. Lloyd’s is quiet but desperate, rapid breathes that stutter as his eyes slide more and more into a frightening kind of blankness.

“Lloyd, please, listen to my voice,” she begs, trying to reach him in the only way she can. “Please, you have to breathe—”

“He’s gone,” Lloyd rasps, unhearing of her words. “He’s s’posed to be gone, it’s supposed to be over, I’m supposed to be done—”

Pixal fights back the sense of overwhelming helplessness. She knows loss. She knows how to finish his sentence. He’s supposed to be done grieving, done mourning, done clinging to false scraps of hope that his father isn’t lost forever only to be met with heartbreak.

And now, to be met with the possibility of something so much worse.

“We’ll stop them,” she tells him, unflinching. “We won’t let it happen.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a vivid green where they stare at her through the monitor, almost ghostly in the misting light reflecting from the river.

He’s silent, but Pixal is, too.

Pixal remembers the way her head had spun when she’d first picked up the traces of Zane in the system, how the world had rushed then steadied, flooding with color as she’d realized he might not be lost after all. She remembers the surging, overwhelming flood of joy, that someone she’d thought she lost might live after all. She remembers being so happy, at even the smallest chance to get him back, because the voice was Zane’s, without a doubt.

She watches the color seep from Lloyd’s expression as his shoulders shudder, the words from the commissioner’s message almost echoing through the air. Watches the terror as the both of them fill the silence.

Will we?

The radio scratches, as if echoing Pixal’s anxiety. Love can be terrible, sometimes. She’s underestimated how it also be so cruel.

************

She’s also, apparently, underestimated how the universe on the whole could be so cruel.

She should’ve revealed herself to them from day one. That way, when Harumi’s corrupted programming suddenly ravages through her like an electric shock, she could be reassured they’d at least be familiar with the person they were fighting.

Instead, she doesn’t even get to scream. Pixal’s only able to force out a desperate, broken warning before she’s lost again, drowning in her own body as she’s forced under. Furious panic grips her as she screams without lungs, bashing herself against the overwhelming helplessness that’s taken over her.

Not again, not again, not again—

Her limbs creak and jolt against her will, lashing out at the people she cares most about, and Pixal can’t even rage back in her own voice. She’s sworn, she’s promised herself she’d never let anyone do this to her again — she’s sworn she’d die before she let someone reach into her head and snatch control away, and yet here she is, frozen as her body’s used to target her friends.

If she could cry, she might.

There’s not much more to say than that. She breaks free, her body her own once again, but by then it’s too late.

************

If Pixal had the same gift of foresight that Zane did, maybe she would have seen it coming. Maybe she’d have remembered how similar her and Lloyd are, and that this kind of pained desperation always yields impulsiveness and mistakes.

She doesn’t, though. She barely even manages to do what she’s trying to, which is convincing Lloyd to join the others while they celebrate their victory. Their off-key singing is something he normally wouldn’t hesitate to join in on, she thinks, and she hates Harumi a little more.

Maybe she’ll try his mother next. The expression on Lloyd’s face screams unapproachable, and remains fixedly sullen.

Almost to her surprise, he meets her eyes as she draws near— it’s odd, being able to meet his back — and his own eyes are dark, from despair over Harumi or despair over his father, Pixal isn’t sure. She’s thinking it might be both, when his eyebrows crease, and a flicker of concern cuts through them instead.

“You good?”

It takes her a moment to realize why he’s asking, but the answer is obvious. Her head tilts downward, and she watches as her fingers curl and uncurl. Her movements, her choices. She lets out an even breath.

“As I can be,” she replies. Lloyd nods, and his eyes are understanding. His lips twist in a scowl.

“She shouldn’t have done that to you. That was a low blow.”

Pixal’s mouth curves into a humorless smile. “That it was. She’s rather good at those, isn’t she.”

Lloyd’s eyes shadow again, and he looks away, crossing his arms. “This isn’t supposed to be about me,” he mutters.

“Yes, it is,” Pixal counters. “It is why I came over here, in the first place. She hurt—”

“All of us, and who’s fault is that,” Lloyd snaps, his arms crossing tighter.

“I would hope you know it’s hers,” she says, holding firm.

Lloyd looks away again, biting his lip, and Pixal shifts anxiously, rolling her wrists. The sensation of control sliding away still haunts her, worse than it had the first time. She should be better than this, she tells herself hotly. She’s lived without a body long enough that losing it so briefly shouldn’t effect her this much.

Curse her programming, she thinks, tapping agitatedly at the banister. She knew she should have reinforce it sooner.

“Hey, um.” Lloyd is looking at her again, hesitant. He twists at his bracelet, and his eyes lose a fraction of that darkness. “Kai made this for me, after Morro,” he says. “I kept shredding the sleeves of my uniform, so he told me to mess with this instead, when I needed to remember that…that I was in control.”

He shrugs, hesitant. “We could make you one too, if you wanted. It helps, having something.”

Pixal lets out a steady breath, despite not actually needing to. The action is grounding, she’s found. “I would like that.”

Lloyd gives her a ghost of a smile in return. “Soon as this is over, then.”

There’s a heavy weight to his words, and Pixal’s eyes narrow.

“Lloyd,” she says. He looks at her, his eyes dark. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

He’s quiet, not meeting her eyes, and this is where Pixal should stop him. This is when she should see the end of the road they’ve been on since they started this, and force him to turn before it’s too late.

“I know what I’m doing.”

She doesn’t.

************

Lloyd is battered and bleeding by the time they drag him onto the ship, a gruesome portrait of cruelty. Pixal is frozen as she watches him writhe in Kai’s hold, his screams cracked and wet as he thrashes erratically like a broken thing.

Nya is already barking orders before they’ve even gotten Lloyd fully on the ship, and Zane is running scans with a horrified, wavering focus. Pixal follows Cole as he carries Lloyd to the medbay with a blank numbness, the rush of wind streaming past the Bounty sails thunderously loud in her ears.

This isn’t Lloyd, she thinks, staring at his crumpled form. Lloyd isn’t this battered, broken shell of a person. Lloyd isn’t hazy eyes that fail to recognize them and frantic murmuring through bloody lips. Lloyd is bright-eyed and gentle and would rather die before he screams the way he does when Cole moves him to the table.

Lloyd is her friend, and this is where that promise they made has led them. She knows why Lloyd set out for the prison, hot on the collapse of his own star. She also knows he wouldn’t have chosen to burn out like this.

Cole calls out for Zane, his voice ringing in panic as Lloyd screeches in pain again. Pixal thinks of quiet words in the safety of his car, and she feels sick. This is the ugliness of love, the terrible, hideous side of it.

And Lloyd would hate it, if he could see himself, if he were any semblance of lucid. He’d hate to know just how much better he was at breaking himself than Morro ever was.

Zane is gentle as he pushes past her, but Pixal can feel the tremble in his hands. He’s every bit as rattled as she is, if not more so — Zane’s heart is larger and softer than hers has ever been, and he cares about each and every one of them with a painful intensity. It’s a cruel thing, to have to pull those same people back together with your own hands.

Kai’s eyes are streaming as he clutches at Lloyd’s wrists, pinning him in place. Zane’s hands waver again over one of the jagged wounds near Lloyd’s ribcage, the green of his uniform already dyed dark in blood, soaking over the careful stitches Pixal watched him put in himself.

Pixal finally finds her footing, reminding herself of the solid wood beneath her feet. She recalls the steady, smooth stitch Lloyd’s scarred fingers traced out for her.

“Here.” She takes the needle from Zane’s hands, squeezing his briefly before letting go. “I can do it.”

She sets the needle against Lloyd’s skin and wonders what kind of stitch it’d take to pull your heart back together.

************

Pixal cannot cry. It’s one of the features Mr. Borg spent hours debating, weighing the pros and cons of giving her the ability before he was truly sure how rust-proof she was. He’d never gotten the chance to, as the Overlord had interrupted him, then Pixal had lost any body to give the ability to cry to, which had eliminated the need entirely.

She cannot cry, but she can hurt, and the rain that streams through her hair, dripping down her forehead spotting raindrops on her cheeks, could be tears if she pretended.

She doesn’t, though, because tears are a waste of water and overall useless in the grand scheme of things. She doubts they’d have helped her fare any better in the battle with Colossi, either.

Tears won’t bring anyone back.

Lloyd cries anyways. She can’t see him, but she can hear it in his voice, the way it wavers and breaks over the radio, nasally tones pronounced.

He’s barely able to gasp a few coordinates to her before he cuts the radio off abruptly. Pixal’s spent enough time with him to envision his scarred fingers snapping it off with a particular desperation, green sparking from his hands in distress.

She reminds herself those sparks are gone, now, bled away into nothing like the vivid green of Lloyd’s eyes had. The thought makes her sadder than she’d expected. She had a joke, about his eyes, she had wanted to make. Now that she has a body, and her own set of glowing green eyes, she’d — there was something he would’ve laughed at, she thought —

It doesn’t matter, now. Neither of them are likely to laugh anytime soon.

The coordinates blink brightly in her vision, and she’s almost surprised she managed to key them in. She’s running on autopilot, she supposes. It could be ironic — she’s been so desperate for control, it’s been so important that she’s the one feeling. Now, she’d give anything not to feel at all.

She lets out a shaky breath, dispelling the mist in her vision left from the rain. She leans forward, just over the edge of the building she’s crouched on, and her loose hair falls forward, silvery and synthetic and horribly tangled. Irritated, she reaches for another hair tie, and her hands falter around her wrist.

Lloyd had promised her a bracelet there. But he’d promised Kai would make the bracelet, hadn’t he, and Kai couldn’t make the bracelet if he was dead, could he.

Pixal blinks, her breath hitching. She’s been so numb to the pain of Zane’s loss, it hasn’t yet occurred to her that she’s losing Kai, too. And Jay, and Cole, and—

She sucks in the same shuddery kind of breath she’s seen Lloyd do, and carefully fists her hand in the area of her uniform above her chest. Her fingers dig in tightly, clutching in a hopeless attempt to feel some sort of comfort she knows she’ll never find.

But perhaps, for these few seconds, she can pretend the action is holding her together.

************

“It was inevitable,” Pixal tells Lloyd blankly, as he rasps out his third apology in the dark cover of their small hideout. “That one of us would fall, eventually. It had nothing to do with you.”

Lloyd swallows thickly. “It could’ve — it should’ve been—”

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. Pixal’s hand shoots out, clamping tightly around his wrist, and there’s a beat of gratitude that she doesn’t need to rely on her voice alone anymore.

“Don’t.” Her voice is strung tighter than the tension in their shoulders. “You cannot change anything. You can’t, Lloyd, and you should not wish to — to change it that way.”

Lloyd jerks his hand free, wiping miserably at his eyes. He sets it back down within her reach, though, and if Pixal were any different, she’d take it.

But Pixal isn’t that different from Lloyd at all in the end, and neither of them reach for the other’s hand, no matter how desperately they crave the contact. Fear is more familiar, and it’s easier to give into it than it is the clawing need for comfort in your chest, after all.

“Still,” Lloyd finally whispers. “Still.”

Pixal swallows. She doesn’t disagree. If one of them had to fall, she knows she gladly would have taken it upon herself. She knows the others care for her, certainly, but she also knows her place in the grand scheme of things. They were six before she came along, and even now she’s kept far too many secrets to be fully counted among them.

She listens to Lloyd’s quiet, cracked voice, and she wonders if he’s thinking that they were five before he came along, younger than Pixal got to know him as.

Now they’re three, hollow and heartbroken. Though counting herself as one whole feels like cheating, right now.

Pixal squeezes her eyes shut, and wonders what it’s like to cry. Perhaps it helps, though Lloyd doesn’t look any less miserable.

************

“I was thinking,” Lloyd tells her, during one of the precious few quiet moments they have while trying to overthrow Garmadon and Harumi. Pixal’s turning the tiny tea flower he’d given her over in her hands, a part of her mind already marking articles about flower-pressing, another part wondering if it’s already too late to save the blossom. “About that promise we made, before all this.”

Pixal finally tucks the flower into the pocket of her uniform, pressed close to her chest. If anything, it can be a reminder of the lives that are safe — the life that’s coming back to her, if she has to drag him back from another realm herself. “And?”

Lloyd’s hands twist together. “Maybe we should focus more on staying alive.”

Pixal coughs out a laugh, breathless and startled. Lloyd wrinkles his nose at her, but his eyes are amused, even with their light lost. “I mean, the emphasis would be on keeping everyone else alive, but it’s kinda hard to do that if we’re dead, so…yeah. Priorities.”

“Staying alive should always be a priority,” Pixal corrects him, but she tugs the edge of his armor out of place with a smile.

“Why didn’t you teach me how to graffiti?” she nods at the designs on the green leather. “Or was this another Darkley’s tradition.”

“This is a refined art, called whatever I had on me that showed up on dark green,” Lloyd grumbles, fixing his armor. “I’ll teach it to you when we get out of this.”

“Another reason why staying alive would be a more productive focus,” Pixal points out. “I’ve heard teaching is easier when you’re alive.”

“And I’ve heard you’re a real riot,” Lloyd mutters. “It’s a promise, okay? I promise to teach you how to do cool armor design if you promise not to disappear into another realm on me.”

Pixal nods, adjusting her own armor tighter as screams ring out from a street nearby. “A promise, then.”

She keeps both the promise and the flower, the tiny blossom dried and faded by the time she’s escaped from the prison, heart racing with leftover adrenaline as Zane sweeps her into his arms. She clutches back every bit as tight, listening to his breathless laughter as cheers rise from the streets behind them, the smoke drifting across the early morning sky above them pale against the lightening blue. Pixal buries her face in his shoulder and breathes, tucking the moment away in her heart where it won’t fade. There’s a future stretching out before her, and she’s got the limbs to walk her path on her own, but all she wants right now is the steady ground beneath her feet and the bright laughter of what she’s managed to keep.

Lloyd meets them shortly after, his own promise kept as he tears his gaze from his father, handing him off to the authorities before sprinting for the others. Pixal barely snags a moment alone with him, and even then no one’s particularly keen on letting him out of their sights.

He meets her eyes as they pick their way through the wrecked streets, the city more alive around them than it’s been in weeks. In the dark of the early morning, Pixal’s eyes glow a bright green, reflecting oddly in the windows they pass. It’s always been her preferred color, in contrast to Zane’s bright blue. Lloyd glances at her, his own eerily green eyes glowing back. He bites his lip, but it’s to hold back real laughter this time.

“My eyes were green first,” she tells him.

“Sue me,” he shoots back, before Kai’s throwing an arm over his shoulders again, tucking Lloyd neatly in between him and Nya. Pixal smothers a laugh at the look on his face, and tightens her own arm further where it’s linked firmly in Zane’s.

It’s going to be an easy promise to keep, she thinks.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #pixal #there was a point to this but it got lost in pix and lloyd do arts and crafts #either way i'd die for both these characters #ninjago where is the pixal love i miss her #my fic

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yukiwhitetm · 3 years

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Thoughts on Life is Strange: True Colors and Wavelengths

This part of the review contains no spoilers.

Chapter One

This chapter was an excellent introduction to Alex Chen, her brother, Gabe, and the rest of the Haven Springs community. Steph and Ryan, our two romance options, were introduced with equal value - Steph was super cool and Ryan was super cute. Every character was well rounded and likeable, but the game was glitchy, hard to run and no one’s mouth moved with their speech - this improved in later chapters after the October update. The worst glitch was on Alex when she suddenly turned entirely black during an animation, but that went away quickly and may have been resolved in the October update. I had to adjust my settings several times to get the game to run smoothly! Windowed mode is your saviour here.

Chapter Two

This chapter could have been done better. It was OK. But it could have been impactful and emotional, and it just... wasn’t. I will talk about it more in the spoilers part of this review. There was a hilarious glitch where the bartender, Jed, T-posed when he wasn’t even supposed to be in the room. I laughed so hard.

Chapter Three

My favourite chapter by far! This chapter was fun and enjoyable - and then it was intense and emotional. I am so glad that they fleshed out Gabe’s girlfriend, Charlotte, more here as she had seemed bland before. I am concerned about how they did it, but I will talk about that in the spoiler part of this review.

Chapter Four

Fun and optional romance was abound in this chapter! The event was enjoyable and the romance so sweet that it made me smile. But it had a shocking conclusion. I literally clasped my hands over my mouth and gasped!

Chapter Five

Remember how in the first game Max had visions of alternate futures and alternate versions of herself and it got really crazy for awhile there? Well, it happened again here! But it made tons more sense and I actually enjoyed unravelling it all. True Colors came to a decisive end as the mysteries were brought to a satisfying, if tragic, conclusion.

Wavelengths

This expansion pack was long! It was as long as a chapter of the game - so grab a warm drink and get comfy. In this, we followed Steph as she started her new job as a DJ and shop assistant in Haven Springs and slowly, bit by bit, moved on from the grief and trauma of what happened at Arcadia Bay. It impacted her more than we ever thought it did and she really struggled for awhile. You see the DJ booth and the music shop change over time as she settled in and got her life in order. Steph grew to become the Steph we knew in the game, and we got to see it happen. (Side note, I had a serious glitch occur when she entered the back room at one point, and had to restart from a previous check point three times. Hopefully, this will be ironed out with time.)

To read a more in depth review carry on, but beware the blatant spoilers below!

This part of the review contains spoilers and, honestly, this is where the critique comes in.

Chapter One

I like that this chapter started with Alex talking to her therapist because it introduces us to the main character, and it is then tied into the start of the last chapter. I appreciate that there was foreshadowing put in place by Ethan telling Alex that he wanted to go up and into the mountains that day, and by the signs of the upcoming explosions that were literally everywhere, but it ruined the experience for me. I predicted the entire thing before it happened and was frustrated that I couldn’t stop something so obvious from happening. It happened and I could have stopped it because I saw it miles out, but the game wouldn’t let me. So much for player’s choice. Also, I think that Riley’s hair could have done with being animated better as it looked not-quite-right throughout the game. And, I hate to say this, but Gabe’s death was more funny than it should have been. I mean, it was upsetting, yes, but I knew it was going to happen because of the trailers, so I did not miss the hilarity of the animation of this one random boulder just hitting Gabe in the stomach and throwing him off the mountain. I think that could have been animated better.

Chapter Two

This chapter started with a memorial for Gabe. I cried really hard during this part and had to restart the scene to watch it clearly. Then we helped Steph deal with her grief in a scene that was beautiful and well done. Steph’s eyebrows kept on disappearing, though, which made me giggle. Alex helped Charlotte support Ethan, and she helped Ryan with his grief and guilt. The scene with Ryan was brilliant too - and his following joy random but sweet. My critique here is this - where was Alex’s grief? It was her brother that died right in front of her and yet we did not see her grieve him, not really. And I get that it was mentioned in Chapter Five that she never cries, but still. Her voice was too level and her expression too clear and it really did not seem as though it had only been two weeks since her brother had died, I repeat, right in front of her. The entire chapter was about grief and mourning, but not about hers. She did start to see her empathy as something she can use to help other people and that’s great, but what about her emotions, where were they?

Alex’s watered down emotions were why this chapter was only an OK. Alex is the main character - so her emotions matter the most.

Chapter Three

I cannot put into words how much I loved this chapter. The LARP was so inspired and fun - I enjoyed every moment of it. And the way that Ethan’s Joy transformed the LARP into a real fantasy world was wonderful, followed on by how it was torn apart by his grief. After this came a scene with Charlotte where we finally got to see her grief - and it had manifested as anger, which is one of the five stages of grief. The option to take away her anger was an interesting choice to make, if an intrusive one. She had the right to her emotions. But! My concern is this - Charlotte is a black woman and the writers made her angry, so are they perpetuating the ‘angry black woman’ stereotype? Or are they allowing her the right to be angry in her grief despite the stereotype? I just think that this is such a sensitive topic that it would have been better if they had swapped her anger with another character’s sadness - like Steph’s or Ryan’s - so that this topic could have been entirely avoided. But maybe I am wrong here.

Chapter Four

I loved the Spring Festival! It was so much fun exploring it all and talking to all of the characters! My favourite part was the giving of a rose to your romantic interest - I loved how this made it clear to the game who you were interested in, as I was a bit concerned I would end up with Ryan when I had been gunning for Steph. (I just think dating your brother’s best friend is kind of weird.) The rooftop scene between Steph and Alex was adorable and I was so happy to finally see them kiss! Pike arresting Alex was not unexpected, because he had always seemed wishy-washy, but upsetting. The fact that she and her friends had been spied on was unnerving, but I should have seen that coming after what happened with Mac. Taking Pike’s fear away seemed contradictory to her thoughts on how taking Charlotte’s anger away was intrusive, but it was the only option other than signing the paper, which I was not going to do, so I did it. Jed’s betrayal was shocking. I did not expect that at all! And that Alex was shot and fell down a mine shaft from the impact was terrifying. What if she had died?

Chapter Five

This chapter started with Alex talking to her therapist again, and I love that it tied into the beginning of the game. The following mystery was fun to solve, and the magical memory explorations with Gabe were interesting to explore as we got to see more of their shared past. I actually really liked it! I was cheering Alex on as she made her way out of the mine, but I nearly cried when she found her mother’s locket down there. The final showdown between her and Jed was impactful and emotional like I had hoped chapter two to be, and I am glad that I managed to garner every character’s support. Jed admitted to his crimes and I... I forgave him. Not for him, but for Alex, because she deserved to move on from what happened. I chose to stay in Haven Springs with Steph, because it seemed like the game wanted me to do that (as I had learned from the first game that Life is Strange tends to have a ‘favourite’ ending that is more fleshed out) but I actually wanted them to leave. It didn’t seem healthy to me for her stay in the place that her father, brother and almost her had been murdered. Despite this, I found the ending to be... lacklustre. Gabe’s description of her future in Haven Springs was beautiful, but I would have liked to see that after I made the choice not before - because after I made the choice all I got to see was Alex walking to Haven Springs, which I had seen several times before, and then roll credits. If I had known that I wouldn’t have seen anything different I would have let Alex and Steph move on with their lives.

Overall, Life is Strange: True Colors is a great game! I would not say it is as good as Life is Strange was, but it is far better than Life is Strange 2, because it had a cohesive story with an overarching plot, likeable characters and a mystery to solve.

#life is strange #life is strange true colors #true colors #life is strange wavelengths #lis #listc #lis true colors #review #video game review #game review #story review #glitches #thoughts #random thoughts

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codename-adler · 3 years

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foxes + onesies (9/9)

based off of that one post i saw and don’t remember, where people once caught Allison wandering around Fox Tower in a giraffe onesie, and i absolutely melted for her. here is the Foxes’ journey to getting a onesie each!

Kevin

every Fox has bad days

some bad days begin with a specific feeling

when Andrew feels ghost hands as he wakes up, when he feels his body too tight for his bones, or hid bones too big for his body

when Neil feels every sound like a knife to his skin, when the scars on his face feel like phantom pains, when he feels a grown man moves too fast, too close to him

when Allison feels jeans cling too much to her thighs, when her shirt brushes too much on her abdomen, when she feels the food she ate resting in her stomach

some bad days begin with a specific date

when it’s the anniversary of Tilda’s death, and Aaron cannot be in the same room as Andrew, no matter how far they’ve come

when it’s the anniversary the Boyds’ divorce, and Matt can’t leave Dan’s side for one second, no matter how strong their relationship is

when it’s the anniversary of Mary’s death, of Evermore, of Nathaniel’s last birthday, of Baltimore, and Neil can’t take a single look at himself in the mirror, no matter how many times Andrew worships his face with his mouth and his fingers

or, when it’s the anniversary of Kayleigh Day’s death, and nobody remembers, not even Wymack, and Kevin is all alone with this grief that is other, unlike any other he carries everyday, unlike anything he can compare to, and he doesn’t know how to feel anymore

Kevin vividly remembers that day, and he sees it luring around the corner as August approaches

but this time, there is no more Riko to worry about, no more mafia to be scared of, no more Ravens to antagonize him, no more Master to punish him for even attempting to grieve every year

and no more alcohol to make him forget

Kevin quit drinking the day they won championship, they day Riko was killed died

it’s been a year and a half, now, and Kevin still wants to drink the minute things get hard mentally

(it’s also been a year and a half since the Foxes started getting onesies, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, and only Allison remembers that summer where it all started)

so when Kevin enters his bad days, his bad weeks, the Foxes are used to his mood swinging back and forth between Queen of Assholery and Feral Fox

but Kevin isn’t

he isn’t used to feeling all of this, to always think, and think, and think, until everything inside his head is as loud as the outside, until it’s all too much

yet he’s still expected to go on

still supposed to function, to perform, to be a decent human being when he’s not even sure he even feels human anymore

and so when Kevin snaps, the Foxes are supposed to be used to it

they’re not

nobody is

it’s summer practice

the 9 Foxes came in early, before the two new recruits arrive

Kevin is in the middle of yelling at Neil, who is very much yelling back at him

there’s that moment very full of testosterone where each of them throw away their gloves and helmets and sticks

they’re an inch from each other’s face and then Kevin suddenly… stops

he completely stops

his face goes blank, his feet move him back, his arms go slack

he looks at Neil, and he looks, and looks, and looks…

as if he could find an answer to a question he doesn’t know he’s asking

Neil, who has never learned to watch his mouth after all the trouble it got him into, keeps tearing into Kevin

Kevin keeps backing up and Neil keeps pushing further

but apart from his backwards movement, Kevin doesn’t react

pure apathy doesn’t suit him nearly as well as it did Andrew

the other Foxes are so silent, that between two of Neil’s breaths, they can all hear him whisper

“Stop.”

but Neil doesn’t hear him, or doesn’t want to

it gets so out of control, even Wymack has to step in, on the court, when he sees Kevin so unresponsive

it gets so bad, eventually Neil, too, stops his yelling and just looks at Kevin

and he looks, and looks, and looks…

as if he could understand the question Kevin is asking an answer for with his pleading, green eyes

“Stop… Just- stop. I can’t- anymore… “

Kevin shakes his head and looks at the floor as hatred and hurt grip his guts

he takes another step back

suddenly he jerks his head back up and looks at Neil

“I hate you. God, I hate all of you.”

he looks at all his Foxes

then leaves

Kevin Day leaves the court

behind his back, he doesn’t see Matt holding back a furious yet teary-eyed Dan

he doesn’t see Renee leaving her goal to join Andrew’s side, her big racquet blocking his way

he doesn’t see Nicky putting his hand on Neil’s shoulder, squeezing in empathy

he doesn’t see Allison throwing away her racquet against the plexiglass wall with all that she’s got, fuming and hiding her tears

he doesn’t see Wymack matching over to Neil, a whole speech ready to give Neil his piece of mind

and he certainly doesn’t see Aaron collapsing to the ground, his hands holding his head and gripping his hair, his breaths shallow, his jaw clenched shut, his eyes dry yet red-rimmed

but from behind Kevin’s back, none of them see him either

they can’t see him losing his breath as he starts running away

they can’t see him clenching and unclenching his left hand

and they certainly can’t see him crying

the week that follows is undeniably tense between all the Foxes

that week also coincides with a lot of events

there’s the new Foxes’ arrival

there’s the start of classes

there’s the mandatory psych session with Betsy before Exy season starts

and there’s August 27th

Mom’s accident

Kevin remembers the day vividly, he truly does

he remembers because the week of the accident, he was supposed to start school for the first time, on September 1st

he had picked his outfit for the first day, he had new red Exy-themed shoes, he had even planned the lunch he wanted to have that day in his lunchbox (spaghetti squash casserole. yeah, weird kid.)

on August 27th, Mom didn’t come home

on August 27th, he went to the Moriyama property

on August 27th, he settled into a weirdly well-accommodated room that fit both him and Riko

on September 1st, he woke up with Riko and they prepared for their first day

on September 1st, Kevin wore his planned outfit, put on his red shoes

on September 1st, Kevin did not have spaghetti squash casserole

she left him nothing but an aversion for squash, red shoes, and Exy

which brings us as to why, on August 27th, as all the team is mandated to talk an hour with Betsy Dobson, Kevin Day volunteers to go first (with Aaron volunteering to go second and be the designated driver for the pair)

none of the Foxes have really talked to Kevin since the previous week’s outburst

Kevin has no other outlet for this painful day

it’s either talk to Betsy, or ruin 496 days of sobriety with one vodka bottle

the only words exchanged between Kevin and Aaron, on the drive to Reddin Medical Center, are, surprisingly, from Kevin

“Somebody should get you a new goddamn car.”

he doesn’t elaborate further than that, but Aaron looks at him strangely

his car really is garbage, though

once arrived at their destination, Kevin doesn’t wait for Aaron and bursts in Betsy’s office without warning

it takes at least half an hour of Betsy talking before Kevin gives up his silence

everything was already there, he just had to open his mouth and let his words fall

Kevin: I’ve been sober for 496 days. I’ve been thinking about my Mom’s anniversary for the past few weeks. That’s today, now. And last Friday, I told Neil, then the whole team, that I hated them. Care to unpack that for me?

Betsy: I can help you sort some things out, of course, Kevin. But this is your baggage. I’m afraid I can’t do this without your help. Why don’t you tell me more about this hatred you feel towards your teammates?

Kevin: I dont. Hate them. I don’t… I hate what they do to me. How they treat me. Their double standards. How they forget, how they dismiss. Mind you, I’m well aware of my asshole status. I know I am. But them… they’re… they’re mean. Vicious. They cut and stab and don’t care about what’s underneath. They don’t care that I helped them get the title of Champions. They don’t care that I was there every step of the way, that I was right there beside them when we played the Ravens, when we won. They don’t care that Riko died, that he once broke my hand, that I was legally kidnapped, that I went through hell and still lived to walk on my own two feet. They don’t care that I, too, once had a mom. They don’t care that my Mom died. They don’t care. To them, I’m still just a cunt. It’s unbearable. They don’t give a shit and I’m so, so tired, Betsy. I’m not asking for much. I just want… I want- I want them to let me breathe. I want them to realize that, I’m just like them. I’m a Fox. I’m a Fox as much as they are. I wake up everyday, and feel all this weight on my shoulders, in my stomach, on my heart, but I carry on anyways, and I don’t know why, but I do, just like them. Is that so hard to grasp? Is that so hard to accept? What am I doing wrong, Betsy?

Betsy: Oh, Kevin…

the rest of the session passes in a blur

Kevin talks about how every time he takes a photograph, he thinks of Kayleigh, of how brightly she smiles in all the photos Wymack has of her, of how he wishes he could take pictures of her with his own camera

Kevin talks about how every strong woman in the Irish folklore he reads about wears Kayleigh’s face

Kevin talks about how he thought Thea had been a bit like her, and how, in the end, she hadn’t been at all, she was her own woman, a woman he didn’t know and didn’t love, and how he thought he had lost a bit of Kayleigh again when they separated

Kevin talks

he talks

and Betsy listens

when his time is up, Kevin’s voice is hoarse with exhaustion and sadness

he lets Aaron in as he decides to take a run back to Fox Tower

his mind tries to guilt him into going back to the court, but between facing the Foxes after that and isolating himself in his dorm, Kevin knows what’s best for him

he is only disturbed in the late evening, when Wymack enters the dorm

even Neil, Andrew and Nicky hadn’t come back yet

Kevin knows something is wrong

Wymack isn’t supposed to be here

Wymack: Day… Listen, son.

Kevin sits up on his bed

Wymack: Argh, I’ll cut the bullshit. It’s Abby. There’s been an accident. Her car’s fucking scrap metal now. She was brought to the hospital 45 minutes ago, I just got the call. She’s going into surgery. We’ll all visit her in the morning.

Not again

Not Abby

What the fuck is this life?

Wymack: Number Seven wants to see you now. Don’t ask me why, I don’t wanna know. I’ll let her in, don’t make me regret this. Sleep good, son. I’ll see you tomorrow.

he opens the door, takes one last look at Kevin’s tense form, and leaves as Allison comes in

she’s wearing her giraffe onesie tied at the waist, with an oversized WALKER 09 t-shirt

she stands in front of Kevin until he looks up at her

Allison: Scoot over. We’re watching The Crown.

and Kevin, dumbfounded, lets her and moves

he finds himself quite intrigued by the storyline, enough to only worry about Abby with his fingers, fiddling with one of the giraffe’s horns

after the third or fourth episode, Allison starts to talk, eyeing Kevin’s fingers playing with her onesie

Allison: Wanna know the latest gossip? Even Andrew has a onesie, now. God, I can’t believe this is a sentence that exists. Andrew Minyard owns a fucking onesie. Do you know what that makes you?

Kevin stays silent, eyes fixed somewhere not quite on Ally’s laptop screen

Allison: That makes you the only Fox without one.

Kevin: Oh, so now I’m a Fox? Didn’t seem that way earlier. Or, like, ever.

the dealer chooses her next words very carefully

Allison: Just because we hadn’t seen it yet, just because we were too busy stuffing our heads up our asses, doesn’t mean you weren’t a Fox… I know, I know. Hard to feel like one when the others give you shit non-stop. Been there, done that. And now I’ve done it to you, too, and I’m… Sorry. We’re dysfunctional, there’s no changing that. But- We can do better. We’ll try, promise. I think you’ve made quite an impression on Betsy today, ‘cause we all received a good talk from her during our sessions. I mean, don’t expect Andrew running in to apologize, but, you know… Something about Betsy turning severe makes you re-evaluate your life choices. We’ll do better, Day.

Kevin looks at her, then

really looks at her

and nods

yet just as he turns his attention back to the screen, Allison leaves the Netflix page and googles “onesie adult”

Kevin: Oh, no. Absolutely not. Nope.

Allison: Oh, yes, yes, yessss!

but then, of course, there’s a knock at the door, and Allison gets up, opens the door, lets the person in, whispers something, and leaves

just like that

and oh

It’s Aaron

Aaron: So… Allison tells me you’re finally getting yourself one of those stupid pajamas too?

Kevin: I am not. What are you doing here anyway? The others will be back soon, I assume.

Aaron: Well, it’s my shift…

Kevin: Your what now?

Aaron: No, it’s not like that! We just… We thought you’d want some space because of… today… But then Abby… We didn’t want you to be alone.

Kevin: Really. Who’s “we”?

Aaron: The proud Palmetto State Foxes’ Exy team. All of them. You know, Dan, Matt, Renee, Allison, Andrew and Neil, Nicky… Me.

once again, Kevin can’t help but stare, deeply surprised

Aaron: Andrew and the others will be back for the whole night, but for now, it’s my turn. I wanted to take the first “watch”, but Allison said she had business to do with you. And I’m not getting in the way of that woman.

Kevin honest-to-God snorts

Kevin: If by “business” she meant bullying me into buying this onesie shit, then you should have gotten in her way. I’m not doing that. It’s fucking dumb.

Aaron: Hey!

Kevin: Aaron Minyard, don’t tell me you’ve participated in this madness…

Aaron: So what if I have? It wasn’t exactly on purpose, but I got one. And you don’t. So really, who’s dumb here?

Kevin: What is it??

Aaron: Not telling you.

Kevin: C’mon…

Aaron: Nope. You can’t bribe me. I’m not telling you shit. However, what I can telling you, is that it feels kinda wrong that we all have a pajama and you don’t…

Kevin: Oh my God, fine! What did the others get?

Aaron: Well, besides Ally’s giraffe, we got a tiger, a dinosaur, a teddy bear, you’ve seen Nicky’s unicorn nonsense, and I’m not quite sure about Andrew’s… Oh, and Neil’s is a fox, obviously. That predictable dumbass.

Kevin: Okay, well, I want a fox too.

Aaron: No, Kevin, you can’t.

Kevin: What? Why not!?

Aaron: Because. Neil’s already got a fox. Do you want to be a copycat AND a predictable dumbass?

and so until 1 AM, Kevin and Aaron bicker about each of Kevin’s suggestions (a Palmetto Foxes onesie, a USC Trojans onesie, an Irish-themed onesie, a white fox onesie, a gray fox onesie, and so on…)

when Andrew, Neil and Nicky come back into the dorm, Kevin’s almost laid all the way down on his bed, his head resting on Aaron’s elbow, as Aaron is sitting right next to him, laptop propped on a pillow and his fingers scrolling away

Aaron looks at Andrew, sighs, and looks at Kevin

they nod to each other, before Aaron gets up to go back to his dorm

Kevin sits up correctly when Aaaron is gone and Andrew approaches

Kevin pretends not to notice and googles one more idea, “brown fox onesie”

as he scrolls down and down and down, Andrew looks over his shoulder

and points at one picture

Andrew: That one. Now go to bed. We’re getting up at ass-o’clock tomorrow.

for the third time this evening, Kevin is shocked

he does look at Andrew’s pick attentively, though, and decides to go with it

that night, even if images of Abby covered in blood plague him for at least an hour, Kevin falls asleep to the memory of Aaron’s skin against his cheek, which somehow translates into dreams of Kayleigh resting both her hands on his cheeks as they sit in a field of wildflowers

a couple of weeks later, Kevin doesn’t tell the team his onesie has arrived

but he is forced to admit it when, for Halloween, they organize a huge party for themselves only, where they decided to wear their pajamas as costumes for the night

Kevin feels so stupid in his outfit

he even had to buy a LARGE because he’s so fucking tall

but it still feels… comfy… warm… not so bad…

maybe this can work for him…

it’s only when he steps into the girls’ living room that a problem arises

Aaron: What the fuck is this.

Kevin: Hum… A brown fox? Technically, Neil’s is orange, so you can’t shit on me!

Aaron: That- That’s not a fox, Kevin! What the fuck.

Kevin: Okay, well what are you then?? A mutant mouse?

Aaron: What are you- Oh my God, you don’t know what Pokemons are.

with that, Aaron turns around and yells for his twin

Aaron: ANDREW JOSEPH FUCKING MINYARD. YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE, DIDN’T YOU? YOU BASTARD.

he storms off yelling

Kevin only reunites with Aaron at the end of the night, on the girls’ balcony, both sober

Kevin: You know, for someone who pushed me so much to do this stupid thing, you’re not being very nice about it. I know you wanted me to be “original” or whatever, but it’s not like I look like Neil! Why are you so upset?

Aaron: Kevin. It’s not a fox.

Kevin: Oh for God sake’s Aaron, you-

Aaron: It’s a Pokemon, Kevin. They’re like little monsters, kind of, and it’s a videogame, but there’s anime, manga, and collectible cards and… I used to- I used to collect those. Before. I lost them, now, but see this? This is one of them. It’s the main Pokemon, actually. His name’s Pikachu.

Kevin: Okay… Who am I, then?

Aaron: You… You’re Eevee.

Kevin: And what’s “Eevee”…?

Aaron: Pikachu’s girlfriend.

and oh.

Oh.

Kevin: Andrew didn’t tell me… The little fucker. I thought- Sorry. I didn’t mean to be another pawn in one of Andrew’s little games. Why did he do that to you?

Aaron: I think you know why.

Kevin looked at Aaron

Aaron looked at Kevin

Kevin: Fuck.

Aaron: Yeah, that.

Kevin: What?

Aaron: Nothing!

Kevin: Aaron.

Aaron: Kevin.

Kevin slowly invaded Aaron’s space until his back touched the railing, and placed one hand on each side of the backliner

Aaron looked up at Kevin

Kevin looked down at Aaron

Kevin: Okay?

Aaron: Okay.

and Kevin grabbed Aaaron by the hoodie of his pajama, and pulled him close, closer, closer, closer, until their lips met, at last

it was a long-awaited kiss, a careful kiss, a kiss of home and yes and oh and warmth and safe

Kevin reluctantly pulled away and rested his forehead on top of Aaron’s, knowing they have very little time before the other Foxes found them snogging on the balcony like a goddamn cliché

Kevin: Aaron.

Aaron: Kevin.

Kevin: I’m gonna ask you something stupid, and you can’t punch me for it, okay?

Aaron: Fine, okay.

Kevin: Do you want to be the Pikachu… to my Eevee?

Aaron: YOU FUCKING MORON!

and with that, Kevin burst out laughing, as if the Foxes’ attention wasn’t already on them the second Aaron started yelling

Allison and Matt knowingly started whooping with their beers raised for a toast

Dan was facepalming hard, shaking her head, but smiling nonetheless

Renee smiled her genuine, angelic smile while clapping Nicky on the back as he choked on his drink

Neil, arms crossed, watched the scene unfold with contentment

and Andrew. Andrew had no reaction at all. at all.

he was looking at his nails, no knife in sight, no fucks given

which, in Andrew’s language, meant everything

and so that October 31st was one for the books, the books about the good days, the good feelings, the good memories

because the Foxes had those, too

Kevin Day had good days

Aaron Minyard had good days

Allison Reynolds and Renee Walker had good days

Dan Wilds and Matt Boyd had good days

Nicky Hemmick had good days

Neil Josten had good days

even Andrew Minyard had good days

God knows they deserve them

these onesies, as silly, as stupid, as corny, as childish as they may be, were a proof of that

a proof that the Palmetto State Foxes could be better, could do better, and could get better

96 notes · View notes

spasmsofthought · 3 years

Text

find me a way (i’ll be yours in a landslide) [pietro maximoff x reader]

I love Pietro and I miss him so so so much. He is the best. I hope you enjoy what has been running through my mind today and a little bit of a different writing perspective.

Inspiration for the title (and what I was listening to while writing this) goes to the song State Lines by Novo Amor.

Let me know what you think! xo

TW: Death, grief, violence (?).

Word Count: A little over 2.4k

+ + +

You and Pietro aren’t friends.

At least, not at the beginning.

He had this sort of roguish charm, and as the one who always followed the rules, there’s a certain danger to his very presence you detect the first time you see him. You have always walked the straightest line, valued for being good, and discovering your own powers turns that dial to 11 even before you find yourself with The Avengers.

A’s in school and curse words that never leave your lips, and your previous co-workers had only good things to say. And when the news talks about you, when they find a second to recognize you, it’s only ever about how perfectly suited you are to be an Avenger, doing good and bringing justice and seeking the peace of all. It is all they know you for: the good you do. And then you fade into the background once again, like a shiny trophy on a shelf only brought out to relive the glory days.

When he starts to live at the compound with his sister, after the Battle of Sokovia, he sees the way you look at him. All wary and standoffish and hesitant. He knows, for some reason, that you don’t look at his sister like you do him. No, you sit with her and eat with her and there are times you laugh together at the dinner table. But with him, well, he’s lucky if he can get a word in edgewise with you. It makes him think that you classify him as an enemy, and if not that, then someone you clearly want to keep your distance from.

But it’s not that clearly defined for you. It takes time for you to even be remotely comfortable around someone who clearly enjoys sparking mischief and making trouble. He has no problem questioning authority and going against orders; he does what he wants. And for someone who has always had this golden star on their forehead, and taught never to make company with troublemakers because it would only cause grief in the end for you, there’s an underlying reluctance to be around him at all due to the complex nature of his shift from bad guy to good guy.

When he and Wanda open up about their Hydra experimentation with the whole team, though, that’s when the first crack starts to form. The empathy you have always felt for Wanda, well, it starts to extend to Pietro too. Because you know that no one should be subject to such an experience, even if they volunteered for it. There is something in his eyes that makes him older than he appears, and there are lines by his eyes that tell you of his sorrow, of his anger.

Your reluctance diminishes over the week and when he happens upon you and his sister in her room on Sunday evening, and invites himself inside, you don’t leave and you don’t close off. You two openly discuss your varying exposure to sitcoms as children and there is something that lights in his eyes, too.

And it is the first time you listen to him with your eyes, not just your ears.

The friendship you extend to him after weeks of Wanda’s hints and outright suggestions to you begins on rocky grounds. Because you and Pietro are inherent opposites, and while you are mostly black and white, he is all gray.

The difference in beliefs and values leads to frequent, and heated, debates when the two of you aren’t training or trying to save the world again. The whole team enjoys watching them, whether outright from the kitchen or secretly listening in a shadowed hallway, whispering and smirking and betting who will will this one. They are always exchanging money in hands, especially when it is you that wins the round.

He gets you, though, one evening as you two sit on opposite ends of the same couch in the open common area of the Avenger compound. It’s been a slow week and leaves much free time for you to discuss all of your differing beliefs. It is passionate and spirited, but this one is also personal. War makes it so, and the twining of both of your experiences cannot make the conversation as objective as others have been. “Rules exist for a reason Pietro!” “I didn’t have the luxury of following the rules when my life was in danger, my parents were dead, and my country was little more than rubble.”

It is fast and quick as usual, but there is a hardness in his face that you have never seen before. A glint in his eyes that tells you he sometimes wishes he lived in a world where following the rules meant living in peace, meant a better future for everyone; where it meant one was doing the right thing, the good thing.

There is a pause that you have to take, because your country still exists the same way, and there is not a giant crater in the ground where an entire city used to be. And it did not suffer from war the ways his did. And your parents were not killed by bombs manufactured by a man with power and wealth and unlimited resources. And it turns out you may be wrong this time and it turns out it’s true that he had been trying to do the right thing the whole time he was on the opposite side of you.

Now you are on the same side and that forces a change in perspective. You are forced to not stay the same.

“You’re right,” You admit and the words are soft.

Maybe rules are a luxury for people like you who can always choose to follow them; and maybe following the rules doesn’t necessarily mean you are the right one. His eyes connect with yours and there is something that happens, an understanding that forms.

Something ties together and the knot cannot be untangled. A string tethers you to each other, somehow, someway, in that moment.

The conversations don’t end there, they never do, but he notices that you bend for the first time that night. Usually you’re as stiff as a board, planting your roots deep and refusing to move. But this time, well, this time your hands open a bit instead of clenching and your knuckles aren’t white.

It takes some more time, and a little help from Wanda, but both of you smile more and the conversation turns less into a debate the more you spend in each other’s presence. Empathy exudes from you, and now it’s less about being right and more about trying to put yourself in his shoes. To see through his eyes instead of your own. You bend for him more, growing less afraid to no longer put your value in being seen as good, and he takes stock of his own beliefs and he learns from you, too. And he’s not a jackass about it.

(Clint saw it coming from day one, though he certainly expected it to take longer. Maybe he’s getting old and that’s it. But, there’s something about the two of you that he knew would click together. He watched you both from the kitchen when he was at the compound, and in training, and he saw the puzzle pieces. He knows you well, has for years, and Pietro’s the kind of person you need, though he would never admit it to you outright. He’s a dad and so he can see these things coming from miles away. Laura is going to be intrigued to hear about this when he tells her.)

And you curse for the very first time when he kisses you, pressed softly against the wall near your door.

He moves so quick it comes as a surprise to your very slow (normal) senses, but the tension has been building for months. Months of his flirting that have been flying over your head or have just left you confused.

He touches you more, now that both of you are growing more comfortable with each other. A hand cupping your elbow when he grazes by, a soft brush against the small of your back when he’s behind you as the team gathers together for a meeting or to train together. A light touch to your shoulder when he is about to whisper in your ear. A tender hug when you both have survived another day where his hands come to the back of your head and he holds you against himself for a moment or two. A kiss to the cheek when he can sneak it in and you’re not paying enough attention.

It is in those moments where you truly understand what safety feels like.

Nobody explains the flirting, or anything else, to you, though, so you brush it away and smile innocently back at him. It kills him, every time. Wanda is just glad you’re making him subconsciously work for it, earn it; making him be worthy of you.

And it is a year after the day where you officially met each other when he follows you to your room after a solid day of training and playing a board game at the dining table with him and Wanda after dinner is done.

You are laughing at something he said, and what happened when he lost, and he can’t resist but softly steering you to the wall. You go quiet, a little startled, and he can see your eyebrows furrow. He leans in and you can hear him ask under his breath if he can kiss you. You are barely finished nodding your consent when he does.

Being a teenager, and then young adult, that had discovered and then wielded weird powers didn’t leave much room to have a significant other who could put up with your schedule and wack powers which interfered with your ever day life. Joining the Avengers left you with even less time to date.

So, when Pietro kisses you, it’s your first kiss.

And you think it might maybe somehow be spectacular.

And whatever it is, it’s different and glorious and it almost overwhelms you and that is when “Shit” slips out from your mouth when you are able to catch your breath. Because you just want more of this, and more of him; more of all of whatever this is becoming. It’s like this feeling drops into the pit of your stomach and sinks deeper, weighing you down with some sort of longing, maybe, or a desire that has been unnoticed and unfulfilled until now. He has always been a contrasting force to you, but now he just seems irresistible. Like a polar opposite magnet that you can’t help but be pulled to: the north to your south.

The curse is said almost under your breath, a whisper that you can’t hold in, but Pietro hears it. His mouth slips into a grin, teetering more to one side of his face than the other. He is handsome in that moment, and oh so irresistible. His eyes sparkle with a sort of pride, glimmering with a deep satisfaction, and you can tell he’s a bit cocky about the effect he clearly has on you, even though you deny it. You think maybe he is banking on his promise to corrupt you, even just a little bit. He presses his forehead to yours and releases a breathy chuckle.

“I have been waiting--”

Before he can finish his sentence, before he can say anything else, you press your lips to his. He sort of smiles into it for a second, but then there’s a shift, as quick as you could blink if your eyes were open, and it’s intense suddenly. All-consuming. There is a sureness with him, a substance you hadn’t been expecting when you first caught a glimpse of him.

Your hands gravitate towards his hair, his towards your face, tilting just slightly. And then his hands are flying to the back of your head, and then one down your arm and to your waist.

This is my reality, you think happily, the inside of you turning into butterflies and pure giddiness. He presses you against the wall and you press yourself against him, desperate for just a little more, a lot more--

and you wake up.

No, no, no, no, the word runs a loop in your head. Not again.

The image of his body hitting the pavement, the sound of gun fire ringing through your ears, is what you are immediately awoken to as you are torn from sleep yet again. He has been dead. He is dead. And it is not a reminder you need yet again, because you barely knew him. And all of this is in your head.

Your eyes open to the breaking dawn you see out your window.

The sheets on your bed are the same they were a year ago.

And you stare out the window for a second, trying to breathe, your mind recollecting everything, and then the tears come. Your arm comes across your face as you involuntary release a sob. Another gets caught in your throat and you are nauseous to your core.

You gather your face in your palms as you move to sit up, and you just cry. Your hair hangs around you, not having been washed in days, and your muscles are sore. Your heart cries out for some sort of relief, but there is nothing anyone can do for it, not even you. The sobs don’t stop for half an hour.

You don’t tell Wanda about it. You never do. You can barely bear it yourself.

You try not to spend much time dwelling on it when you finally get out of bed that morning, but there are some times when you like to imagine things differently. When you wonder what it would have been like if fate had intervened, or some sort of mercy had been given; you give yourself a glimpse of a different future.

And when you actually allow yourself the time to sit there after you wake up, every once and a while, you usually can picture it all almost as clear as day, the sun shining. There are no clouds in the sky, not a drop of rain. The whole world seems right and perfect and complete before it shatters in front of your very eyes and it all turns to dust.

Grief has taught you that you will always wake up alone and that dreams always remain dreams. And this one will never come true.

+++

“The most painful state of being is remembering the future, particularly the one you'll never have.” — Søren Kierkegaard

#pietro maximoff #pietro marvel #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x oc #pietro maximoff x y/n #pireto maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff reader insert #pietro maximoff preference #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver imagine #quicksilver reader insert #quicksilver preference

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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

Text

A Lapse in Judgement - Part 4

CHAPTER ONE: A Dangrous Present CHAPTER TWO: A Past Forgotten CHAPTER THREE: A Foreshadowing CHAPTER FOUR: One Possible Conclusion CHAPTER FIVE: Untethered

Komaeda Nagito x Ultimate Empath!Reader

Summary: Deep down you always knew that it would end this way. Contains: she/her pronouns, emotional torture, canon major character death, suicide ment Read on AO3

You should have seen it coming. Komaeda was weirdly distant after you escaped the funhouse, alone in his room and not answering even when you pleaded for him to open the door. You should have seen the signs, you should have kicked the door down. There were so many things you should have done, but did not. It made sense that someone would finally take the initiative and get rid of him after the bomb threat, you might even have forgiven them if it had been a gun to the head or a knife to the heart.

You cup his face in your hands, staring hopelessly into a set of eyes with nothing behind them. Praying that if you look for long enough you will feel something, anything to prove that he is still in there somewhere. Your throat is dry and raw from a constant string of screams and sobs that you can't even hear.

“Hey, c’mon. You have to get up.” Hinata says, reaching out and resting a hand on your shoulder.

You whirl around and the pity living behind the eyes of six different people slams into you. It only makes you angrier, “I am not leaving him.” you suck a breath in through your teeth, hot tears pouring down your face, “One of you did this .” you gesture to the empty vessel that had once held the soul of the man you loved, “Someone tortured him. You know perfectly well that he wouldn’t have resisted if someone tried to kill him. They didn't have to do this, they could have just stabbed him and been done with it, but no . The mother fucker tortured him.” you turn back to the body and brush some of the bloody hair away from his forehead, “You can do your worthless little investigation around me, but I am not moving.”

Your hear Hinata sigh behind you and suggest that everyone start investigating elsewhere for now. Sonia mutters some words of apology in your direction, but you ignore her and listen as only five sets of shoes leave the warehouse. Your fingers cart shakily through Komaeda’s hair and you ask, “Why are you still here?”

Kuzuryu rounds the body and drops into a crouch on the other side. He doesn't say anything, he just stares at you. Behind his eyes you can feel more than just pity, it’s deeper, more complex. Empathy, guilt, understanding .

“You know what i'm trying to say right?” He huffs, “I don't really understand how your weird-ass talent works, but you felt that. Didn’t you?”

“Oh.” You whisper, heart tensing with a sudden realisation, “Pekoyama.”

He turns away from you, a silent indication that these emotions were for him and him alone, “Yeah.” he says.

You sniffle, trying to stop yourself from crying again while gently stroking Komaeda’s cheekbone with your thumb, “He was scared of dying alone.”

Kuzuryu doesn't say anything, but he also makes no move to leave.

“I know i probably couldn't have stopped it but, i wish i could have been there. I wish he could have seen me. I just hate…” your breathing is raggard, it’s hard to speak, “I know he did some fucked up shit, i know! But I loved him, I did and I don't even really know why. It’s just, it's...just-” your hands are looping around on eachother, circular, as you try to explain feelings that don't make sense, “-it’s like we’ve been here before. Like I love him because I already loved him, and will love him again and again and again ad infinitum.” You’re sobbing now, Kuzurya reaches across Komaeda’s corpse and rests a hand on your shoulder. A noise more like a shriek than a sob rips through you and your hands tangle in your hair, “I feel like i'm going crazy…” you whisper.

“It’s grief.” He replies, “One day, we’ll both get over it.”

The trial is arduous. You were not around for much of the investigation, but that didn't matter to Monokuma, he dragged you kicking and screaming into the elevator and over to your podium. Everyone keeps looking at you, at the way your hair is frazzled from your grasping fingers and the barely dried tear tracks running down your cheeks. You can tell that Souda especially is just waiting for you to snap, like Komaeda once did.

Your fingers are gripped white around the front of your podium, eyes locked only on the photograph across the room. Your mouth curls at the irony, that even he is staring at you. Judging you .

Hinata is leading the discussion as usual, but there is a moment of silence every now and again. Like he is waiting for input from someone who cannot speak. A bottomless void, a lapse in more than just conversation. Hinata clenches his fist tight.

You aren’t paying much attention, your talent has been acting up. You’ve been feeling things that aren’t even there, from a past life? From someone else’s? Nervous shaky hands cupping your cheeks, one hand and one glove slowly lifting the hem of your shirt. Lips that taste like summer and lips that taste like desperation. You can’t remember anything tangible, but god can you feel . Two sets of hands, two pairs of lips. Completely differently but irrecoverably similar. You feel like throwing up.

“What do you think?” Hinata asks and you are ripped back to the present.

“Huh?”

His brow is pulled tight, but his eyes are apologising to you and begging you to stay calm, “Would Komaeda commit suicide?”

“I….WHAT? No!” You can’t believe it, you can’t believe the shit Hinata is trying to pull, “did you see the body? You think he did that to himself?!”

Nanami turns to you. Giving you a gentle smile, “It’s okay.” She says, “we’re just working through it, but we need your help.” you’re shaking with a barely contained mania, teeth grinding and tears building in your eyes. Nanami just keeps smiling, and she means it. You can feel her fear, but even more than that, you can feel how deeply she cares for you. For all of you, “You knew him the best, didn’t you? Do you think he would do it?”

You feel calmer. Taking in a deep breath through your nose, “Not without a reason. He would never kill himself just for the sake of dying, he’s smart. He was trying to accomplish something.”

Nanami nods and rests a hand over her heart, “thank you. Considering what we found in his cabin, along with your testimony, I think it was more than just a suicide.”

What they found in the cabin was poison. Taken from the final dead room. You are dimly aware that it was probably in his pocket while he was fucking you, you turn your eyes to the ground.

“We also found...one other thing.” Hinata mutters, he pulls an envelope out from his pocket and passes it over to you. Everyone is leaning in, trying to get a glimpse at what it is, “It was on the bookshelf, it’s addressed to you.”

Your hands are shaking as you grip the paper. You reach out and trace the lines of your name written in his messy handwriting. The envelope is still sealed.The trial continues.

The reveal of the poison reveals a motive. Komaeda was trying to take the traitor down with him, the poison hidden in plain sight and his luck rolled the dice. Hinata runs through everything, piece by piece but there is no way to know who did it. No way to know who the traitor is. Unless of course, they come forward.

Nanami’s smile is heartbreaking. Hinata’s jaw is clenched tight when he realises the truth, whispering her name so gently so sweetly, like he is begging her to tell him that it’s all just a lie.

You have a feeling though, twisting and turning in your stomach as Nanami begs for your votes. You try and ignore it to just vote for the traitor that Komaeda had wanted to kill, but the longer you waited the more the thought festered inside you. your fingers are still curled tightly around the envelope you don’t want to open, and his fingers are skill curled around your heart.

“Wait!” The word escapes from your mouth like a thunderclap, everyone’s eyes turn to you, “Please don't vote yet.”

Nanami tilts her head, a sweet smile on her lips that doesn't match the sorrow in her eyes “It’s okay. I need to go.”

You feel a tear spill over and run slowly down your cheek. Your hands are shaking, “Nanami. You don't .”

Souda groans, “I thought we were done! Why do you guys keep doing this?”

“Yeah.” Hinata says turning to you, “What is it? What happened?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you struggle to find the words. The room is closing around you and it feels like there is a vice affixed to your lungs, “What if he didn't want to kill the traitor. What if he wanted to kill everyone else?”

“WHAT?” Souda screams, and the room fills with noise. Everyone is arguing and talking over each other, but you don't even hear it. Your fingers are shaking as you flip the envelope over, running your nail under the seam delicately, wanting to make sure it doesn't tear. (you don’t notice, but Monokuma is leaning forward with a grin on his face). It pops open and you reach inside. It isn't really a letter, it’s little more than a few worlds scrawled onto a notecard, but it changes to course of the trial all the same.

My life for yours

I love you

You clap a hand over your mouth and a sob rips through you. Tears rolling down your cheeks in rivlets as your body shakes, you collapse forward onto the podium. Your legs have given out. It was you . That moment in the funhouse, when his smile softed and his eyes turned bright, he thought the traitor was you . Because you took the time to love him, whatever sin he believed the rest of your cohort committed he thought you absolved. Innocent. You weren’t . He died for you and you weren't even the person he wanted to save. Did you even deserve to live now? Knowing it was a fictional version of yourself that he died for and not your true self? You knew the answer, and it made your next move just a little easier.

You swallow, using your arms to push yourself back up. Breathing as deeply and evenly as you can, you force yourself to smile, “I killed him.” the words feel disgusting on your tongue, but they are true all the same, “It was me.” all the eyes in the room turn to you and you can feel them all, the confusion, the hatred, the sadness, it fills you up until you are bubbling over, crying and laughing all at once, “he thought i was the traitor. The grenade with the poison, I threw it. Nanami is innocent.” You pass the note back to Hinata, and his face pales when he reads it.

“But I thought…” Sonia starts, watching the realisation dawn on Hinata’s face, “I thought Nanami was the traitor.”

“She is.” You say, “But...I was kind to him.” You turn to Hinata again, it’s hard to see him through your watery eyes, “Will you convince them for me?”

Hinata’s face is grave, but he nods.

There is little time for goodbyes. Just before Monokuma pulls you away, Nanami grabs you by the hand and smiles.

“They told me to keep an eye on the two of you.” She says, “What happens twice will always happen a third time.

”“What do you mean?”

A tear cascades down her cheek, you notice it glitters eerily in a way real tears never would, “love transcends memory.”

“Wait- Nanami what-”

“ALL RIGHT! TIMES UP!” Monokuma yells, “And I have the perfect punishment ready for the Ultimate Empath.”

You grab Nanami’s hand tighter, desperation racing up your spine, “Nanami, what happened two times? You have to tell me please-”

A metal collar snaps around your throat and you’re tugged backwards, feet scrambling against the ground as it races under you. Your reach out a hand, Nanami’s name screeching from your lips but the familiar figures of your classmates grow smaller and smaller as you disappear down a hallway and into the darkness. Something slams you down in a small wooden chair, the room is pitch black and you can't see a single thing.

You try to struggle and a set of metal shackles clamp around your wrists and ankles. It’s quiet. You can hear the sound of your rapid heartbeat and the whirring of machinery. You’re going to die. A sob catches in your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep the tears from spilling over. Then, a flash of light behind your eyelids, and something (or someone) comes up from behind you, forcing your eyes open.

“No…” you whimper, struggling against your restraints with a new determination. The metal bites into your skin and you writhe and shake, your heart is pounding and you can't breathe , “NO! Don't make me look. Don't. PLEASE!”

Whatever they are using to keep your eyes open does not relent. You are sobbing and begging and pleading, but they make you watch.

Komaeda is sticking the duct tape over his mouth. He lifts up the knife, and the determination in his eyes morphs into fear. His hand shakes, and he drives the knife into his thigh. You scream, trying so hard to escape that the chair is creaking and groaning under you. He stabs again and again and again. Knife down the arm, knife through the palm. You feel it all. Slamming your head backwards into the back of the chair, bitterly hoping that you’ll crack your skull open like an egg. You want to die.

He is just lying there now. All alone. Staring up at the spear where it dangles above him. It hurts, it hurts so much. He is all alone, you left him to die all alone. You’re like a rabid animal, twisting and turning in the chair, unhinged and terrified. He is still just lying there . You can’t stop crying, your chest is hurting from the way your breath heaves and from the shrieks that won't stop leaving your throat. Then, a door opens. Now that you know to listen for it, you recognise the sound of monokuma panels toppling over, and the woosh as the curtain catches alight. The determination in his eyes is back, but then…

“Oh god! Is he back there?” That was your voice, “We need to put out this fire, if he’s back there he's going to die!”

Komaeda laughs behind the tape. Eyes softening. He loves you loves you loves you. He’s going to miss you.

You aren't making any noise anymore, your mouth is hung open in a silent scream as you feel your heart beating in tandem with his, “I love you…too” you whisper, your voice shattered and wheezy.

His eyes open wider and for a moment you think he heard you, but then you realise what he heard was the sound of the fire grenades shattering. For the first time, during this whole ordeal, he feels regret. Just before the poison reaches him, he changes his mind, maybe he doesn't want to die. It kills you. Your very being is twisting and warping, your heart catches on a hook and is reeled back into shore, the tears running down your face begin to boil and steam. You watch him as he starts to writhe, screaming inaudibly behind the tape, struggling against his restraints as the poison enters his system....and you feel it.

Finality, relief, and a bittersweet goodbye.

His eyes glaze over, and your soul rips in half.

But then, the joke is on Monokuma, because whatever he does to you, however he deals the final blow. It doesn't matter. You are no longer there. You’re in a classroom a million miles away, sitting on the windowsill with the boy you are in love with. His nervous fingers, gently intertwined with yours.

#nagito x reader #komaeda x reader #komaeda nagito #nagito komaeda #danganronpa #super danganronpa goodbye despair #sdr2 #there is a happy ending coming i swear

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i-am-a-reader-fear-me · 3 years

Text

A Percabeth AU where they keep their relationship secret in fear of what their parents might think. (Warning: this goes over both PJO and HoO so it's very long):

The beginning of TLT goes as it should but after Percy is claimed, Annabeth is suddenly meaner and colder.

He remembers the Poseidon/Athena rivalry but doesn't see why they have to hate each other bcuz of their parents.

But Annabeth doesnt relent.

They still go on the quest together bcuz "you are so going to fail without a daughter of Athena."

But they still argue a lot and give poor Grover a satyr migraine.

When they have that bonding moment on the truck, Percy thinks maybe they're sorta friends, but Annabeth proves that wrong later by calling him a "Seaweed Brain" bcuz he's so stupid.

Percy fires back with "Wise Girl" but Annabeth seems to take that as more of a compliment than an insult.

(He doesn't stop calling her that tho)

After Luke betrays Percy, Annabeth's the one that found him after the dryads and she drags him to the infirmary but completely denies caring about him afterwards.

By SoM, Percy is so done with this and goes over to her asking if they could be friends.

Annabeth, who actually would like to be his friend, agrees with reluctancy, saying, "We have to keep it a secret though, or who knows what our parents might do."

Percy agrees.

Grover knows they're friends now cuz of the empathy link, but doesn't say anything.

In TTC, when Annabeth falls off the cliff, he blames himself more than ever, bcuz if they hadn't been fake arguing she might not have been distracted and fallen.

Thalia blames him even more too, and he has to keep his cover and can't tell her he knows it's all his fault.

Nico asks if Annabeth is Percy's girlfriend.

He says no, but he has a funny feeling in his heart.

He goes to the attic to ask the Oracle about Annabeth.

It doesn't answer.

When he thinks Artemis is about to ask Annabeth to join the Hunters, he knows he has to tell her something, even if it meant blowing their cover.

He breathes a sigh of relief when Artemis asks Thalia, and Annabeth is waiting for him to talk with narrowed eyes as if trying to figure out what he wants to say.

He chokes. (~Like doesn't say his feelings, not actually choke lol~)

In BotL, they are totally going out on a secret unofficial movie date but ofc the fiasco with Kelli at Goode happens.

Annabeth gets really jealous when Rachel appears. (Especially since Rachel has more opportunity to go out with Percy bcuz Annabeth and Percy have to pretend to hate each other.)

Percy, ofc, does not realize why in Hades she's acting like she really hates him even though they're in private.

At camp, they're playing Capture the Flag when they stumble on an entrance to the Labyrinth.

They go down to hide from monsters and end up stuck.

It's so dark Annabeth grabs his hand to keep from being separating. (~this is canon, they were holding hands I checked~)

When they find their way back out, it appears almost an hour had gone by when they were sure they were down for a couple minutes.

The campers were searching for the two of them and are immediately suspicious when they find the two alone. Together.

But they forget about that when Clarisse comes and asks about the "hole" they fell into and Annabeth suggests they continue talking in private.

It is then that Annabeth, Percy, Grover, and Tyson go on their quest.

When Annabeth and Percy reach Mount St. Helens they are quickly found out.

Percy tells Annabeth to escape saying he has a plan. (He really doesn't)

She kisses him. (~whaaaaaaaat~)

When she leaves, Percy apparently decides to cause a volcano to erupt. (~ya he doez~)

He lands on Ogygia, while Annabeth, thinking he is dead, goes back to camp, alone.

When she returns, they ask where Percy, Grover, and Tyson are but she refuses to say anything.

They realize what happened.

They have a burning of the shroud ceremony where she doesn't say anything, sitting, her face emotionless, but her heart in turmoil as she listens to Chiron.

That's when Percy crashes the funeral.

Annabeth is outraged.

She pretends it's because "THE WHOLE QUEST IS BEING HELD UP BECAUSE OF YOU! AND WHAT WERE YOU DOING, ENJOYING A VACATION AT PARADISE ISLAND?!?!"

It's really because she was head over heels with worry and grief (while he's off with sOmE imMorTal gOdDeSs) but she can't let anyone know that.

She is certainly not happy when Rachel joins their quest.

(Percy still doesn't get it.)

Before TLO, they are playing Capture the Flag, and the two are on opposite sides. (~in The Demigod Files, the story they find Festus for the first time in~)

Annabeth and Silena capture Percy and Beckendorf and the boys suffer an utter loss. (Were the myrmekes part of the plan? They'll never know.)

Beckendorf and Silena totally know they like each other no matter how much Percy and Annabeth fake it and try to get one of them to ask each other to the Independence Day firework show.

Annabeth does end up asking Percy and they watch the fireworks secretly next to the woods so no one sees them.

They hold hands or something else just as cute idk.

In TLO, when the Battle of Manhattan starts, everyone is surprised when Annabeth let's Percy take the lead.

When she takes the blade for Percy she says it was bcuz "I didn't know it was him!"

"So you would take a blade for anyone if it wasn't Percy?"

"...yes."

But by this time everyone secretly ships Percabeth so no one questions it.

After the war, Percy gives up immortality mostly for her but only those two know it. (And maybe Grover).

Annabeth asks him to meet her in the woods and when he does, she brings him a lumpy blue-colored cake which Tyson helped make. (Bcuz of course Tyson knows that they're secretly friends but Grover told him not to tell anyone).

They kiss, duh.

But then a monster comes out from the woods and they don't want to fight it after they just had a war so they run.

They end up by the lake and Percy pulls Annabeth in to get away from the monster.

Cue best underwater kiss ever.

They date in secret for two months but Percy's mom knows.

When Percy goes missing, Annabeth freaks.

She searches for him everywhere and if anyone asks why she's searching so hard for someone she doesn't even like, she just replies, "He probably just disappeared bcuz it's his turn to do the camp chores and I will not let him slack off," or "Who else am I supposed to use for target practice???"

(None of the campers who'd been in the Titan war buy it.)

In SoN, the only thing Percy remembers is Annabeth, but for some reason, he has this instinct to not tell anyone about her so he doesn't.

In MoA she still judo flips him and acts all mad (which she is) but he still laughs it off and says all sarcastic, "Oh, did the smartass daughter of Athena miss me?"

But he missed her too.

When they go to eat lunch Annabeth and Percy excuse themselves to "go to the bathroom" but they really snuck off to have their own private reunion.

"I missed you so much, Seaweed Brain. Don't ever disappear like that again."

"I'm sorry, Wise Girl. I missed you too."

*kissing*

Later, when Annabeth and Percy sneak off to the Pegasi stables on the Argo II and sleep next to each other.

Frank finds them.

They swear they didn't do anything and threaten Frank into silence.

He can never look at them the same way again though.

When Annabeth has to get the Athena Parthenos, Percy paces the deck of the Argo but says he's not worried about a daughter of Athena.

When she finally gets the statue, he goes down to meet her but she trips and falls into the Pit.

He catches her, but now he's hanging on a ledge.

"Percy, let me go. You can't pull us both up." She whispers, knowing they're too low for the others to hear.

"We're staying together. You're not getting away from me. Never again." He whispers back.

"As long as we're together."

At least in Tartarus, they don't have to pretend they don't absolutely, utterly love each other.

In Blood of Olympus, Percy, Annabeth, and Piper are walking underground to the monster's base in the Parthenon when they see a trident mark in the ground.

Annabeth says it's the place where Poseidon struck the ground.

At this point, Percy turns to Piper and asks, "Can you keep a secret?"

Piper nods.

That's when Percy kisses Annabeth.

When he pulls away, he says, "This is where the rivalry ends….for us, at least."

Piper acts surprised but on the inside she is rAGING bcuz now Leo owes her ten bucks but she can't tell him.

After the Giant war they consider telling their friends, but they're not sure…

Idk how to end this just keep going

Sort of a bonus:

The Hephaestus and Athena cabins worked together to make everyone monster-proof phones (which also correct their dyslexia) and Annabeth and Percy use them all the time to text each other and no one knows.

Jason asks Percy to come to a cafe with some of the others, and Annabeth and Percy are texting the whole time.

Their convo goes something like this:

'hey Annabeth, me, Jason, Frank and some of the others r going to that cafe on 31st street'

'*Jason, Frank, some of the others and I' 'Really? Piper, Hazel, and I are going there too. They mentioned Jason, Frank, and Leo might be there, but not you.'

'weird, they didn't say anything about u either' 'hey wait a sec, Jason's texting on some gc called Operation Get Them Together' 'the other guys' phones r ringing everytime he sends something…'

'What? Operation Get Them Together???'

'yeah'

'....'

'what'

'Oh no.'

'what??? Annabeth????'

'They're trying to set us up.'

'wdym set us up'

'I MEAN, they're TRYING to get us TO GET TOGETHER'

'huh?'

'THEY WANT US TO GO OUT PERCY! YOU KNOW, TO BE A COUPLE???'

'ok okkk u don't have to yell'

'🤦‍♀️'

'so what do we do'

'I think we should go along with it.'

'wait hold on, Jason's asking me who im texting'

'Wait, tell him it's your girlfriend. Just to screw with them.'

'haha yes ur a genius'

'I know.'

Percy tells Jason that he is texting his girlfriend, to which Jason replies by "What?!" and frantically starts typing on the group chat to tell everyone that 'YOU GUYS PERCY SAYS HE HAS A GF ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION!!!'

To which Piper is the first to reply, saying, 'Nah, trust me, keep going with it'

At this point, they reach the cafe, and the boys and girls meet up at a table.

Annabeth, immediately going into acting mode, says, "What is he doing here?"

Percy fires back with a scowl and says, "You didn't tell me she was going to be here. I'm leaving."

Jason stops him tho

Percy and Annabeth sit down at the table, but everyone is still standing.

Piper and Hazel say they have to go to the bathroom and leave.

Jason and Leo say they're going to go order (even tho it's a sit down with a menu and order type of cafe???)

Everyone seems to have some kind of excuse to leave until Percy and Annabeth are left alone.

The two pull out their phones again.

'Seriously? This is their plan? Say we're all going out to eat and then leave the two of us alone?'

'ig' 'what do we do now'

'I don't know.' They're probably spying on us…'

'um is that Reyna, Hazel, and Calypso in the bushes with mud and green war paint on their faces?'

Reyna, Hazel, and Calypso were indeed hiding in the bushes (with binoculars) with mud and green war paint on their faces.

'Wtf?? How'd they do that so fast???' 'And is that Leo and Piper holding newspapers with eyeholes cut through???'

'lol yea...then that eagle flying above us is prolly Frank'

'Jason is hiding in the clouds to your six.'

'where r Nico and Will?'

'I think that's them making out in the bushes.'

'lmaoo im so gonna tease them for that' 'so what do we do now Wise Girl'

'...' 'Follow my lead.'

'k'

Annabeth puts away her phone and stands up.

Percy follows her lead.

She says, "We know you guys are there, just come out. It's not going to work. And we see you too, Nico and Will."

The other demigods come out of their hiding spots (the two who had been called out looking especially sheepish).

"Why not?" Piper says, knowing perfectly well why not.

Percy looks between Annabeth and Piper, and seems to come to a decision.

"Because," he says and goes over to Annabeth and kisses her, "we're already together."

The responses were very diverse.

"What?!"

"I knew it!"

"Leo! My ten bucks. Now."

"Yeah, I walked in on them sleeping together…"

"So we did all this for nothing???"

"Wait, did you say sleeping together?"

They arguing stops as two flashes of light almost blind everyone and two gods appear.

Poseidon and Athena.

For several seconds, the two gods just stare at Percy and Annabeth (who are now holding hands just bcuz)

Then, finally, after what seemed and EXCRUCIATINGLY long time, Poseidon turns to Athena and says:

"I was right, you were wrong, I was RIGHT, you were WRONG, I WAS RIGHT, YOU WERE WRONG, YOU OWE ME FIFTY DRACHMAS BIRD BRAIN"

This was not the reaction the demigods was expecting if you couldn't tell

Athena just scowls and makes a pouch filled with drachmas appear, and throws it at Poseidon.

Poseidon catches it, bringing out what appears to be a phone and starts calling someone.

Athena goes over to Percy and Annabeth.

She looks mad, and Annabeth tries to let go of Percy's hand, panicking, trying to think of a lie, but Percy doesn't let go.

"My daughter is the smartest and best of my children, and as much as I don't approve of this, if she chose you, sea-spawn, she must have a good reason. But if you step one foot out of line, I will have you punished, understood?"

Athena addresses this to Percy, who nods fearfully.

"Good."

Suddenly there are a bunch more flashes of light as more gods appear bcuz apparently, Poseidon wanted everyone to see that he was right and Athena was wrong.

Ofc chaos ensues.

But Percy and Annabeth are still holding hands and look at each other and feel overwhelmingly happy for the first time in a long time because now they don't have to keep their relationship a secret anymore.

THE END~

WTF HAVE I WRITTEN.

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pallasperilous · 4 years

Text

Piledriver

Dean/Castiel 1815 words Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair Coda, Fix-It (sort of), Grief is a weird and protean beast, Second Person POV, but also Dean POV, I realize what a tall order that is y’all but I swear it’s mad judicious {AO3 version}

You’re not really sure when you started doing it.

That’s a fucking lie.

You started doing it ten, maybe twenty minutes after.

Not as a conscious thing, not like those snappy comebacks you think of the next day, or like those speeches you practice in your head and then never get the chance to deliver. (Although it seems like other people have better luck in that regard.)

It’s more like a tic — like the way Sam used to pick at his hand, or your mom used to hum the same little bit of Stairway to Heaven offkey. (Which was kind of a trip since she’d come back from, you know. There.)

You think: I love you, too.

It’s just a drumbeat of syllables running in the back of your head. Might as well be shave and a haircut. Which you could use, incidentally.

It eases off a little, after the universe ticks over. You’re so fucking relieved that you basically revert to a lower life form for awhile — you’re like a jellyfish, or a fungus, or a Yankees fan. For a few minutes there, things are pretty sweet.

Then the clock starts running again, and you and Sam are faced with the frankly fucked-up necessity of needing a hot meal and somewhere to pee.

It kicks back in then — during the peeing, specifically, because goddamn did the dude never get over what a fucking nightmare it is to have a bladder. Like it actually made him mad. Even after he got his batteries back and was once more able to, like, effervesce fluids out of his body or teleport them to the surface of Mars or whatever, he never stopped giving you pitying looks whenever he got up to use the can. On the road he’d ask if anybody needed a bathroom break at every single freeway exit. You chewed him out once that you in fact were not a four year-old or an Alzheimer’s patient and could therefore hold it for more than twenty minutes at a time, and he looked at you with such bottomless patience and empathy that you could’ve thrown him out of the fucking car. I love you too.

Instead of a heartbeat, it’s like a piledriver hitting the ground ten feet away.

I love you too. It rattles your fucking thighs as you wash your hands in the gas station bathroom. None of the other dudes do because dudes are fucking disgusting. This attitude was maybe part of the problem.

I love you too. You come out and the car’s moved and you have a hot second of freakout, then you see Sam’s just pulled it away from the pump and parked in the lot and honest to God (go team!) you almost burst into tears. What the fuck.

I love you, too.

That night you do your absolute best to lobotomize yourself (not to obliterate yourself, which is a sign of progress and for which effort you absolutely deserve a round of applause from…somebody), but the piledriver just keeps on pounding away and you realize that it’s either piledrive or get piledriven. Sam’s asleep six feet away after his own inpatient procedure but you’re really fucking starting to panic so you say it out loud, anyway.

I love you, too.

And something gives, eases off like a gas bubble turning a corner in your gut, and you pass out.

So you lean into it. You make it your thing. You figure you can either be losing your mind, or practicing, so you choose practicing. You’re showing the powers that be that you’re keeping the faith. You’re holding a torch. You’re being the change you want to see in the world. You’ve talked to coma patients before and you’ve prayed to this asshole before and this isn’t any different. Isn’t it?

Washing the dishes: I love you, too.

Checking the oil: I love you, too.

Swinging a machete and hitting that sweet spot between vertebrae where the head just pops right off, like a Lego dude: I love you, too.

Pulling on socks: I love you, too.

Burning that fucking jacket: I love you, too.

Not out loud, or at least, not where anybody can hear you. That would be weird.

And you know, you know, that he doesn’t hear you, either. You know that, worst of all, he didn’t even need to hear it. You’ve heard a lot of shit about unconditional love, but it’s never had any goddamn appeal to you because, what? Somebody loves you the same no matter what fucked up shit you do, no matter how you feel about them?

That’s either (a) some seriously poisoned Kool-Aid or (b) so huge it’s useless, like giving somebody a galaxy for their birthday. You want unconditional love? Get a fucking dog.

I love you, too.

Lately you’ve been swapping in phrases that have the same rhythm or meter or whatever, so you can say them out loud without worrying anybody more than usual. The rain in Spain does some heavy lifting for a couple weeks, then ba-DUMP-bump, tissshh! followed by the king of beers for about half a particularly shitty afternoon and then closing out with you bet your ass, which is a much better fit for your lifestyle.

So fine, great. Life goes on. You were the subject of his unconditional cosmic love-boner whatever and getting that off his chest was all he needed to go happily fucking off into the abyss. And you’re still down here (up here? over here?), drinking coffee and hating Mondays. Awesome. I love you, too.

This is around when you discover the best match for both meter and tone yet, one so close that it doesn’t even feel like a placebo for the real phrase. It’s a whole different drug, actually. It makes you feel like a million bucks, it’s absolute rocket fuel. If the original is whiskey, this shit is meth. You turn a whole nest of ghouls into one big ghoul smoothie and then at the bar later somebody nervously informs you that you were yelling it out loud the whole damn time.

The phrase is: go fuck yourself.

You imagine it at night, lying in the empty bed, your pulse hammering in time: him standing there, one big cow-eyed khaki rumple, and you yell: Go fuck yourself. You asshole. You bastard. You smug piece of shit. Go fuck yourself. How many times have we done this, and every fucking time you find a way to make it worse. Go fuck yourself.

I love you, too.

After a few weeks it loses its edge. You kinda knew it would, having some experience with the limits of amphetamines and your own rage-juice glands. It downgrades from a battle-cry to a slur. At some point you realize you’re not even saying it to him anymore. You’re saying it to you. Go fuck yourself.

You try to imagine him saying it instead. Go fuck yourself, in that nutso Sam the Eagle voice that he must’ve gotten out of a box of Cracker Jacks, because it sure didn’t come complimentary with Jimmy Novak’s dry-ass mouth. Go fuck yourself, Dean.

Somehow it’s still the nicest thing anybody’s ever said to you.

So you go back to the OG version, and this time it feels like it settles in. You do whatever the psychological equivalent is of buying it a dog bed and a food dish and a leash, and you take it out for walkies whenever it starts to chew on the furniture. I love you, too.

You get so used to its presence that sometimes you even forget it’s there. You’re joking around with Sam, eating sandwiches at some picnic grounds on the way to Sioux Falls for a social visit, and you say some dumb thing to him, who knows about what. Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disgust as required by the kid brother certification board and snorts “I love you, man,” in the way that means how are you even allowed to exist, and you answer “I love you, too,” in the way that means I love you, too.

Sam has seen a lot of wild shit, but the look on his face after that is a brand new one to you.

“Checkmate, asshole,” you say, in case he’s worried you’re gonna off yourself in the bathroom or something.

You do get to say it, eventually.

Like most things in life, it happens after you’ve totally given up, and then totally given up giving up, and have achieved the spiritual equivalent of that shrug emoji Claire sends you sometimes. When the phrase is well past thinking about, when the words don’t even carry any meaning anymore; they’re like the thought version of blinking, or swallowing. A background process, until something flies into your eyeball or you try to breathe a tortilla chip.

So the tortilla chip shows up one day. Don’t worry too much about the details here, just take it for granted that it either required a heroic effort of years that nearly broke you, or that he just showed up unsolicited on the porch like a copy of The Watchtower. Or maybe you’re both dead; seriously, who cares, because regardless — he’s there, and you’re there, and for awhile other people are there too, but eventually they go away.

And it’s him, and it’s you. And if you hadn’t absolutely digested this thing in advance, if you hadn’t broken each word down into its atomic particles and cut and pasted them into your DNA so that 45th century forensic anthropologists from Mars could extract it from a fragment of the the mummified marrow of your left ass-bone, you might’ve said something else.

You said: “I love you, too.”

You realize, in the moment after you say it, that you have reached the limits of your preparations. You’re a samurai with a single move; you’re the cannon in the 1812 Overture; your photo’s in the dictionary under one-trick pony and you’ve got frosted tips and you’re blinking.

You say it again, and then a third time, and a lot of times after that. You keep saying it, for years, in varying degrees of franticness and horniness and happiness and honestly still-fucking-angriness and whatever else is on special that week. You say it to his face and to his dick and to his back and to the mere concept of him well after he’s left the room, left the state, left the dimension. Eventually you stop bothering to say anything else to each other. There are maybe half a million words in your native language, according to Sam, who uses them all, and with everybody else you keep on using the two hundred or so you feel confident about.

But with Castiel, you make do with just the four.

I love you.

I love you, too.

#spn fanfiction #destiel #deancas #spn 15x18 #spn 15x19 #spn spoilers #pallas perilous fic #fixit fic #15x18 coda

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

Kirishima with a darling who refuses to let him love her and take care of her so she decides to keep her isolated until she wants his company

He’s such a good Yandere to get stuck with, isn’t he? Considerate, loving, so dedicated to your relationship, he’s willing to do anything to keep you by his side. The last one is more draw-back than anything, actually, but don’t worry. His intentions are *always* golden.

TW: Kidnapping and Threats of Violence.

Three weeks, five days, eighteen hours and thirty minutes to the second. That’s how long you’d spent in silence, living with only the sound of domestic trivialities, two pairs of footsteps and the stifling awareness that something was wrong, even if you could never be sure what that off-factor was.

It’d been three weeks, five days, eighteen hours and thirty minutes since the last time Kirishima spoke to you.

You didn’t have a problem with it, honestly. Any fondness you might’ve had for him had shriveled up and died the morning you woke up in an windowless bedroom, restrained, gagged and still recovering from being drugged out of your mind the night before. When he’d stopped talking to you, going mute with all the grace of a puppy trying not to bark, he’d stopped touching you, too, although the gifts and bribes for your forgiveness continued to flow steadily. Rather, he acted as a reluctant caretaker, one to been barely seen and never heard, your meals left on your bedside table without a word and his ‘duties’ only carried out while you were unconscious, your only signal that he’d bathed you or cleaned your room being slightly damp hair and a pounding headache, one that often left you more incapacitated than his medication did. It was fine, though, it was great. You wanted to be let go, you wanted to be free, but you’d settle for making Kirishima miserable, if you had to. As long as he wasn’t happy, you were content, and he couldn’t be unhappy.

Not one could be, in a relationship so one-sided.

That was why you didn’t prostrate yourself when he came in, another small wrapped box in his hand and his posture stiff, as uncomfortable as you’d been, at first. You were settled on your bed, laying on your stomach, a book propped up in front of you, although you hadn’t had the motivation to read in hours. Still, your eyes never left the scrawling text as you heard the door open, shutting again before heavy, measured footsteps made their way towards you. You only kicked slightly, letting the chain around your ankle rattle before you bothered speaking.

“Today would be a really good day to let me go,” You started, your tone light, playful. After so long, you’d fallen into a routine, one you almost enjoyed. “I know I say that every day, but I mean it, this time. Is it sunny, outside? It feels sunny. I think I’d like to get out of here on a sunny day.” You paused, more for effect than anything else, making a point of turning to the next page. You couldn’t remember the title, anymore. “Well, big guy? Gonna let me go?”

Silence was his only response, deadened and insufferable silence. You sighed, accepting his refusal, nodding as you went back to your idle task. “Leave it with the rest of ‘em, then. I don’t accept presents from criminals.”

That was where your interaction usually ended, Kirishima taking his leave with a forlorn sigh and a wayward glance in your direction. You listened intently, waiting for the sounds that always accompanied his exit, wondering if you should use the next hour to stare at the ceiling or contemplate your own captivity, but you didn’t get the chance to decide. More wrongness drew away your attention, terrible and awful and appalling, stillness where there shouldn’t have been. This time, you reacted, glancing over absentmindedly, but once your eyes landed on him, you couldn’t pull them away.

Kirishima wasn’t glaring. He wasn’t staring blankly or in one of the many, many states desolate desperation you’d gotten used to. No, no, this was something new. Something dangerous.

He was crying.

Choked sobs racked over his chest as he took a step towards you, then another, tears just beginning to appear. You were stunned, but only for a moment, quickly pulling yourself out of your stupor and sitting up, your book falling away uselessly as you positioned yourself on your knees. By the time he reached the edge of your bed, he was furiously trying to wipe away the evidence of his grief, but each drag of his collar across his cheek and rub to his eyes only made him cringe a little more visibly or grit his teeth a little harder, his jaw so clenched, it had to be painful.

He seemed to relax, when he finally, finally spoke. As if he’d been holding in the same tension for years, rather than a handful of weeks. “Say you’re sorry,” He demanded, his voice trembling on every other syllable. “Say you love me.”

“What? No.” Your reply was automatic, born of equal parts confusion and noncompliance. “Are you alright? You’re acting weird--”

“I’m acting like a good boyfriend.” Anger had replaced whatever sterile authority he’d tried to display, everything from his tone to his demeanour becoming more unstable, more volatile. Out of habit, you started looking for places to run, a closet you could lock yourself in or a nook too small for him to drag you out of, but as soon as Kirishima noticed your focus shifting, his temper boiled over. In the blink of an eye, he was no longer standing in front of you, and you weren’t crouching at a safe distance. Instead, he was on top of you, his hand around your neck and shoving you against the headboard with a harsh thud, your vision going black before returning so much more vivid than before.

You could breathe, but barely, each inhale labored and strained, but if Kirishima seemed to have any sympathy for his captive, you couldn’t tell. If anything, he only seemed more hostile when he went on. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re trying to hurt me.” The accusation was followed by growl, sharp and primal, making what was left of your air supply get caught in your throat. “I tried taking care of you, but you’re too scared to be reasonable. I tried giving you space, but you just get spoiled, taking me for granted and asking for the one thing you know I can’t let you have. Do you hate me? Or are you just too stupid to be grateful when someone tries to protect you?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re--” You were cut short as his fist tightened around your neck, squeezing so mercilessly, you didn’t doubt he would leave bruises. Hopelessness welled up inside your chest, dark and unignorable, and all the threats and punishments and fear you’d try to repress came back in an instant. You knew nothing you did would make a difference, but you tried anyway, not sure what else you could do. “Please, Eijirou, you… you kidnapped me. I can’t just forget that. You shouldn’t, either.”

“You’re supposed to get past it.” He was gruff, unwavering, his resolution taking shape and growing steady. You weren’t sure whether or not that was a good sign. “You’re supposed to realize that this is for the best, that I’m keeping you safe, and be thankful. You’re not supposed to whine until you get your way.”

You didn’t have a response, not one that would’ve soothed him. Without another option, you did the only thing you could think to do, too many emotions coming over you all at once and choosing to show themselves in ugly, blurry tears, as frantic as Kirishima’s. But, the closest thing to empathy your outburst earned was a softened frown and a half-hearted hush, despite how quiet you attempted to be. “It’s alright, baby. This is my fault, too.” His assurances came gently, but he was unfazed. You had a feeling your resolve wouldn’t be as unshakable as his, soon.

“I just need to be a little stricter than I have been. Everything’ll be better, after you see how much I’m helping you.”

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book-dragon-etcetera · 3 years

Text

Why Mantis and Loki should be a thing; fight me (please don’t I swear I’m nice).

What makes a good relationship subplot? Actually, scratch that – this is the MCU, we don’t go for mediocrity – what makes the best relationship subplots? It can vary, but my favourites, the ones that keep me digging and digging, coming back every time I think of a new angle (you’re in the fandom tags, you know what I’m talking about) always tie into the wider story. They feed character growth; allow new concepts to be explored; fit in with and in some cases represent the greater themes of a story.

In case you haven’t guessed, I’m going to be arguing that Loki and Mantis could be something along those lines. Something great. One of the best, most interesting relationships of modern screenwriting. I know, okay!! I know, it feels weird as anything – it’s taken me a while, too. But bear with me, and worst-case scenario, you’ll have a new take on a fascinating pair of characters.

Before I put the two together though, I feel like I need to do a little character study for Mantis. So far, she has had little to no clear development and without serious thought of your own, she seems entirely one-dimensional; two at best. In case you have not plugged hours and hours of thought into a character with barely ten minutes of screen-time, here are some of my thoughts, free of charge 😊. Incidentally, the interpretation I take to enhance my viewing experience (and add suitably crippling levels of angst :D ) ties her in perfectly with Loki’s story and character.

More Than Just a Bug: A Minor Study

What we know: Mantis has spent her whole life in servitude to Ego a massively powerful being, intent on taking over the universe, who sees all other life as inferior, insect-like (hence the name ‘Mantis’ – happenstance in the comics, derogatory in the films). Whether she has ever met anyone else is unclear, and until we actually see her talk about it, we’ll never know. Going by her comfort in talking to the Guardians, and also the fact that she anticipates the result of Ego’s meeting with Peter, I’m going to assume she has, but more specifically, that they were Ego’s other children.

Imagine this, if you will. Mantis, since her childhood, has been intermittently exposed to Ego’s offspring. They appear, are doted on for a few days, and then vanish as suddenly as they came. Not having been delayed by the Ravagers that collected them (as Peter was), they are all young children, with strong but changeable emotions. As such, they fit Ego’s narrative of universe full of mindless beasts, unthinking and impermanent. If Mantis were not an empath, able to feel their distress and confusion at the kidnapping, they would have no impact on her at all. As it is, they give her no epiphany, but rather a slow sense of unease that grows over time, as child after child is reduced to a pile of bones in a cave.

Her uncertainty must of course be hidden from Ego, who may be too narcissistic to imagine she could ever turn against him, but would certainly kill her if he saw her doubts, so she separates herself from the feeling. Her outer self remains uncomplicated and pliant, still attempting to please her adoptive father-figure, while her inner self languishes in steadily deepening turmoil. She dissociates to survive, until she almost believes it herself.

Now let’s try looking at her scene with Drax, where she touches his arm by the flower-filled lakes, through this new lens.

BEWARE. THIS SCENE WILL BECOME SIGNIFICANTLY MORE PAINFUL IF YOU ASSIMILATE THIS INTERPRETATION.

To recap: Mantis has spent her life in a state of slowly growing unease over the pain, suffering and subsequent deaths of Ego’s many children. Her only comfort has been his assurances that all other life is meaningless, and as such their suffering weightless. By Mantis’s own design, this inner struggle has been buried deep, totally inaccessible. Therefore, she goes into this scene entirely intending to allow Ego to kill the Guardians, and if Peter is successful, the universe.

Alright, here goes:

So, Mantis seems normal (normal??) for the first section. She reacts suitably when Drax calls her ugly, and then when he argues that it’s a good thing. When he mentions his lost daughter, she makes a joke (incidentally the sort of play-a-crooked-thing-straight joke that Loki might enjoy), but then Drax compares his daughter to Mantis, calling them both ‘innocent’, and she makes this face when he isn’t looking at her.

This is not a naïve look, and I don’t think it’s meant to be. The tiniest edge of that inner guilt, her natural empathy for the terrible fates of Ego’s children, is bleeding through against her will, brought to the surface by a father mourning the loss of his daughter. Wanting to understand, and partly in fear of what she might find there, she reaches for his arm.

When she feels his grief, she is physically affected, taking large gasps of air with glittering eyes. It’s easy to forget, but in some ways, Drax is the most emotionally developed of the Guardians. He had a wife, and daughter, and a home. He’s lived through what most of us would determine a normal life, and reached middle age. Quill, Gamora, Groot – they’re all younger than him, and therefore less emotionally developed. (I have no idea what age Rocket is, but at least by maturity he can certainly be added to the list.) This level of experience is where Drax’s moments of unexpected wisdom come from. He is a fully realised person with all the complexities and regrets that come with age, something Mantis has never felt in anyone except Ego. And he is mourning his daughter.

When she touches his arm, Mantis is feeling one of the worst losses, the deepest hurts that a person can ever experience, even dulled by years: the loss of a child. But for her, it’s even more than that. It’s personal. She realises in that moment that on the other end of every one of Ego’s children was someone like Drax, feeling what he felt. That they were still out there in the universe, mourning the sons and daughters that Mantis had met. It tilts her world on its axis, and we get a close-up to watch it:

This is her guilt, her worst fears validated. She can no longer use the ‘we’re just insects anyway’ justification to excuse the cavern of bones. Every tiny doubt she has ever had now has an explanation, and it means she has grown up complicit to atrocities she couldn’t even recognise. Upset, and guilty that he still believes her innocent, she turns immediately to Drax, knowing she can no longer stand by do nothing. They are interrupted by Gamora before Mantis can explain, so later that night, knowing she cannot bear being complicit yet again to murder, Mantis wakes Drax and betrays Ego, despite her fear and love for someone who has been (literally) her whole world.

Go watch the scene thinking about Mantis's guilt, I dare you. I did, and it hurt me.

By the end of GotG2, we have a Mantis still conditioned to serve the father she has now killed. His teachings have left her with crippling self-doubt, and a sense of personal inferiority that as of yet we have not seen her question, despite a truly incredible level of power (subduing first Ego – an actual planet – and then Thanos; I’ll go into her frightening Gamora later), and her own heroism. She is incapable of being righteously angry at Ego, because righteously implies right, something it does not occur to her that she might have. And she hides it all, because over the years she has built an unconscious self-defence mechanism which allows her to control people’s actions towards her by seeming harmless and sweet. The ultimate deflector of aggression.

What her motives and feelings might be now she has found her freedom, I also have some thoughts on, but that is a topic for another day (possibly a Loki including day, hmm?). I feel like it’s important to mention that, although this is a dark interpretation, that doesn’t mean I think Mantis is a dark character. There is inherent darkness in the horror of her past, but some of the best and brightest people in the world are people who have been to hell and back, and come back kinder for it. One day, when she has learnt some self-worth, and ditched the clothes that she wore as a slave to a monster, I think she could be one of the best, most impressive, and nuanced heroes we have ever seen.

#marvel #marvel mcu #character study #mantis #loki laufeyson #gotg vol 2 #gotg 2 #fanfic #ao3 author #expand your horizons #short essay #pom klementieff #drax the destroyer #angst #empaths #headcannons

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seyaryminamoto · 4 years

Note

Sokka/Ursa interaction headcanons? I reckon he has a few bones to pick with how she raised his soon-to-be wife

:’D more than a few, really. There’s actually another fun surprise I’ve been sitting on for ages, coming up in two arcs, not 100% related to what you’re asking... but still slightly related to what you’re asking about :’D It won’t be a genuine Sokka-Ursa interaction, but it’s something I was pondering at random one day and there was no better moment to implement that random idea than that arc... I really hope you guys will enjoy it :’D

Now then, on with the real answer:

Canon-wise, my interpretation of Sokka wouldn’t be 100% sold on Ursa, not even before starting a relationship with Azula, considering what her canon storyline was. It’s not that she isn’t tragic, or that he wouldn’t feel bad over her hardships, but this guy had a mother who outright gave her life for her children, whereas Ursa gave up her children to have a life. Out of sympathy and empathy for Zuko and Azula, I don’t think Sokka would ever jump on the Ursa!woobifying bandwagon and would always be more or less wary of her. He’d likely interact little with her, and he’d mostly try to help Azula, once they’re involved, with letting go of her resentments towards Ursa for Azula’s own sake and peace of mind, rather than anything else.

The Reason, my first serious story, was built with the premise of Ursa being dead or just completely beyond help, which meant Sokka was very receptive and as helpful as he could be with Azula once she confessed several truths about her relationship with her mother. The other stories I’ve written, long after The Search was finished, don’t focus at all on Ursa because I was so underwhelmed by the comics I didn’t want to give her any attention... but Sokka mostly focuses on Azula and on helping her understand she’s more than whatever she thinks her mother sees her as. He wouldn’t be particularly keen on making Azula get along with Ursa, he’d just leave that be whatever it is, because he can tell Ursa and Kya are whole worlds apart, and Azula’s experience with her mother has nothing to do with Sokka’s experience with his own.

Ursa, in turn, probably would perceive canon!Sokka as a good influence on her daughter and, going by what she’s prove to be like, she probably would hope he helps her get along better with Azula :’D And Sokka would outright shut that down because if Ursa wants to fix things, she’d better find her own way to do it rather than ask others to intercede for her and fix her very personal problems with Azula for her.

Is it clear my perception of canon Ursa is pretty awful? No? Hmmm...

But as you said “soon-to-be wife”, then... you weren’t asking about canon :’) you wanted to know what Sokka and Ursa’s dynamics would be like, Gladiator-wise?

My friend... I mostly don’t want to say because of a very obvious, blatant reason:

GLADIATOR SPOILERS

Read on at your own risk :’)

Sokka and Ursa will actually have a very, very interesting dynamic going forward in this story. It’s funny because no one has ever even asked about this before, but damn... I have PLANS. BIG PLANS. I’VE HAD THEM FOR AGES!

There’s a lot of stuff Sokka will want to say to Ursa. Seeing as he’s the person who loves Azula the most by far, who knows her and treasures her more than anyone, he can’t ever understand why Ursa caused her so much grief as a child, and such profound traumas that even as an adult Azula still had a mild breakdown over their relationship, back in Ember Island. He has been doing his best to help Azula make her peace with Ursa’s memory, often reassuring her that her perception of her mother isn’t nececessarily wrong, but also helping her understand maybe her own feelings about Ursa are far more complicated than Azula has ever wanted to acknowledge, to the point where his words give Azula the courage to send out a lantern with her mother’s name on Memorial Day.

But here’s the thing: Sokka is helping Azula as best he can for Azula’s sake. His opinion of Ursa isn’t fully formed because he hasn’t met her so far, and he’s not entirely sure he’s going to like what he finds if he ever does meet her. Because if Azula is wrong, and Ursa did care about her, it means Ursa fucked up massively in showing it. If Azula isn’t wrong, then it means Ursa is a failure of a mother, for if a guy like Sokka, who went through SO MUCH with and because of Azula, could see her true worth and help her understand she could be a better person, and that there was a better path for her to choose in life, it means her mother absolutely could have done the same for Azula since she was a child and she merely didn’t care to. And that... that doesn’t sit well with our resident #1 Azula stan.

In short, Sokka doesn’t think there’s any way Ursa will sit well with him, because whatever the truth may be, Azula didn’t know what love was until she discovered it with Sokka, and he does hold Ursa responsible for it because she apparently did love Zuko. Ergo, if she could love someone (whereas Ozai, as far as Sokka is concerned, can’t love anyone because in Sokka’s eyes the man is the absolute WORST), why wouldn’t she be able to love Azula as well...?

So.

With all this being said...

What WILL happen, once Sokka and Ursa meet, face-to-face?

Well... for starters, I won’t disclose how that will happen because that’s another of my biggest secrets and I ain’t giving it away just like that (?) but it will happen in time, and when it does, Ursa will play a REALLY IMPORTANT PART in pushing forward a specific element of the story. That is also very important to keep in mind :’D

Anyways, Sokka won’t even know who Ursa is at first. Does that sound weird, since I’ve spent the whole story saying she looks like Azula? Why, maybe it does, but I’m not gonna tell you why it’s so hard to recognize her these days (?) again, my secret (?) But after the truth is revealed, Sokka will be pretty cold and mostly unwilling to interact with her. It’s up to Ursa to seek him out, especially once she finds out certain ~things~ about who he is and what he means for her daughter, and then you could say the reckoning will happen.

The kicker is that this reckoning may not have the outcome a lot of people expect. Because, ya’ see, my Ursa isn’t canon!Ursa. She hasn’t been chilling for 20 years while her children go through hell on earth, and she isn’t quite as meek and lukewarm as to give a half-assed “I’m sorry I didn’t love you enough” apology to either Zuko or Azula once she meets them. This Ursa has a thousand regrets or more, her emotions are a MESS, and she has some really serious conflicts going on in her soul that... damn, I’ll touch upon them very briefly in chapters I’ve already written, but I’m sure nobody will truly understand what’s happening until Part 3 comes along. Point and case being, Ursa hasn’t been having the time of her life, and while I’ll never negate Azula’s experiences, perceptions and sorrows regarding her mother, I do intend to show that Azula was a child who couldn’t understand absolutely everything about her mother back in those days. Paired with this? Ursa is no longer the same person she was in the flashbacks we’ve seen so far. You guys don’t really know what she’s been up to yet, and I think once you do you’ll, hopefully, be pretty surprised by what’s up with her right now...

All those changes and circumstances have really affected Ursa, and that means that, while Sokka is ready for the showdown of the century once he meets her, the outcome won’t be exactly what he was expecting.

... And frankly, I really don’t think I can speak thoroughly about what their dynamics will be after this x’D I’d give away waaaaay too much about the upcoming developments, and I enjoy being an evil puppeteer a little more than I should (?) so I hope confirmation that these two will meet face-to-face, and that there IS going to be a reckoning will suffice... and of course, that Ursa’s side of the story remains intriguing too (?)

#anon #*whistles*#dear god sometimes you guys ask THE questions #and I'm just #screaming internally #and having no idea how to shut up #but KNOWING I have to shut up #because if not I'll just end up giving away my whole existence by talking too much (?)#but I do love it damn whenever you guys ask stuff that I will explore and that will happen and *SCREECHES*#*combusts*#I have too much fun with this story why lie

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emily-strange · 4 years

Text

Sparks Fly

Okay so I posted Chapter 2 the other day but was ultimately really unhappy with where the story was heading....so I revamped!

Thank you again to @billybutchersbabe for being my sounding board and talking through my jumbled ideas with me :) Such a massive help.

Hope you enjoy the chapter and feedback is welcomed x

Chapter 2

Pairing: Billy Butcher x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, Mention of Violence, *very* mild mention of child abuse (very very small)

…………………………………………………..

Butcher leans against the dirty wall of the safehouse ‘livingroom’ and looks at the young woman sprawled out on the threadbare sofa. He sighs tiredly and pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting the headache that’s constantly threatening his brain. MM and Frenchie are arguing over something ridiculous in the other room and Hughie made a quick exit after trying to scold him for his interrogation techniques.

For the first time in a fucking long time, Butcher feels the pinch of guilt in the back of his mind. The three of them were following a lead when they’d come across the cart fire and Butcher being Butcher, he just had to watch something burn. That’s when he noticed her. Well, he didn’t know she was a she at the time.

Not that it matters of course, a supe’s a supe.

She approached the fire like she was looking to get burned. He watched her raise her hands and caught a glimpse of a small smile. The flames around her flickered like an electrical current and seemed to gravitate towards her. He saw red. His mind instantly went to Lamplighter and Mallory’s grand-kids. So, he acted.

He’d been careless and rash.

Butcher lets out a long, deep breath that he didn’t know he was holding and calls to MM. When he finally breaks away from his argument, MM enters the room just at Butcher is sorting through a first aid kit.

“You ‘nd Frenchie need ta follow up on that lead. See if ya can get Hughie back.” He says without looking up. MM bites back the need to argue and looks over to the woman on the sofa. He eye’s Butcher warily.

“What you gonna do?” he asks. Butcher stops sorting through the kit and follows MM’s eye-line to the woman.

“Just ask what you wanna ask MM” Butcher responds, straitening himself to full height, causing the other man to do the same. The tension since the alley was thick. Even Frenchie sensed it when they returned ‘home’ with Butcher carrying an unconscious woman over his shoulder.

“Fine. What you gonna do, to her?” MM rewords while pointing to the woman. Butcher picks up some antiseptic wipes and gauze.

“Me?” he asks in his usual jovial tone, “I’m gonna patch the bird up ‘nd ask her some questions. Maybe if she’s lucky, I’ll get her somethin’ ta drink.”

MM scoffs, “So the kickin’s are done?”

Butcher places one of his hands, still holding the gauze, over his heart, “Scouts honour.”

MM shakes his head but gathers his things. Him and Frenchie head out to follow up on the previous lead, with the latter muttering in French as they exit the building.

Butcher takes a couple of seconds to gather himself before sitting on the small coffee table opposite the sofa, setting up a bottle of water next to him ready. The woman’s bag lies on the floor next to them, having been checked over by Butcher when they got back, however he’d put the matchbook in the pocket of his short-sleeved shirt the moment he’d knocked her out in the alley.

He moves her hair gently off of her face and sighs, exhausted himself. He gives her a little shake. And then another one. And then a bigger one while saying (almost shouting) “Hey!”. The woman stirs and for a second Butcher sees her relaxed before everything crashes back down to earth. She hurries to sit upright, her stomach clearly no longer hurting her and Butcher grabs her arm before she can bolt off the sofa.

“Alrigh’ alrigh’ calm down now luv.” He chastises and retracts his hands quickly when the woman snatches her arm back, holding it to herself like he’d burned her. Her eyes are wide and her face is bruised from earlier, with blood smeared across her forehead and jaw. Old, almost closed cuts are scattered around her face with yellow bruises framing her eyes on both sides.

“Why am I here?” Emmy asks, pushing part the dry scratch of her throat.

“Well. That’s the question ain’t it. Why are you here? Some say God. If you believe that kinda thing. Me? I’d say freak’a nature.” Butcher answers, confusing Emmy for a moment before she realises what he’s getting at.

“No,” she replies quickly “why am I in your….house?”

Butcher looks around, finding it funny that she’d think this rundown hole could be someone’s house.

“We brought you back here afta your little display in the alley. Figured it was the least I could do afta….well ya know.” Butcher says while gesturing to her generally, “And I’ve neva met a supe what ask ta die. So tickle me curious.”

Emmy thinks back to their altercation and recalls her desperate plea to end it all.

“Let’s just say I’ve had a bad couple of days.” She whispers. This seems to appease Butcher for the moment as he hands over the bottle of water. She takes it quickly, chugging down almost half of its contents before stopping to heave in air like she hasn’t breathed for weeks. She waits for Butcher to say something but when he doesn’t she rolls her eyes.

“Look, I didn’t do anything to the cart okay?” Emmy mumbles. The silence of the man opposite her putting her even more on edge, “You bring me here to kill me or something?”

“Nah. If I wanted ya dead, you’d be dead.” Butcher answers with a shit-eating grin.

Emmy nods slowly, “That’s, um, very comforting.”

“Look, I’m not in the habit of picking up strays. But my mate was giving me fucking grief about leavin’ ya.” Not totally untrue, Butcher thinks. Hughie had argued like a little bitch but Butcher was also not lying when he said he was curious about the bedraggled supe.

Emmy thought for a moment back to the alley and how concerned his friends had seemed. “….Hughie?” She says absentmindedly. “Or MN….MM?”

Butcher sighs and hangs his head in mock upset, “See. You shouldn’ta told me ya know our names.”

“You were hardly being careful!” Emmy says with rushed defense.

“Well I wasn’t plannin’ on you makin’ it out of that alley.” Butcher snaps back, raising his voice in annoyance. Emmy knows she should be terrified, definitely more scared than she is. This guy jumped on her the second he caught a whiff of her power. But really, he just looks exhausted now. Totally fed up. And like he said, if he wanted her dead, she’d probably already be dead.

Butcher narrows his eyes at Emmy and almost smirks when she does the same to him. They stare at each other for a few seconds, until the insane situation she’s found herself in causes Emmy to do the last thing Butcher expects her to do.

She laughs.

“I’m….I’m sorry” she gasps between laughs, “I, uh...I haven’t slept in like…2 days”. She breaks off to laugh silently into the hand she smacked to her mouth. Butcher furrows his brow and this seems to set her off even more.

“And…it kinda felt like…” she tries to continue without laughing but fails, “it felt like….we were having the world’s most…awkward…staring contest.” By the time Emmy finishes, she’s wiping tears out of her tired eyes. She manages to calm herself down enough that Butcher thinks it’s safe to speak.

But the moment he opens his mouth, Emmy erupts into laughter again.

“Alrigh’!” Butcher shouts and Emmy’s laughter retreats.

“Sorry…I’m…scared I am…you’re very scary.” She says sincerely despite the humour in her tone. She coughs the last of the laughter away and takes another sip of water before handing it back to Butcher who puts it on the table.

“Look. I wanna know who’s afta ya.” He says sternly and Emmy nods, watching her own hands as she fiddles with a thread on the sofa. What has she got left to lose?

“Umm okay, well….I dunno to be honest. Maybe no one? Maybe police? I just assume someone is.” She replies, only making eye contact once she’s finished.

“And why, prey tell, would the cops be afta ya?” Butcher whispers menacingly, the way he does. He sees the hesitation on Emmy’s face and runs his large hand down his own, groaning. He has a feeling that his usual intimidation technique isn’t going to cut it here.

He looks again at the old cuts and bruises on her face and sighs. She probably wants reassurance. Reassurance that he won’t turf her over to the cops or worse, whoever she worries is after her.

The problem is, Butcher doesn’t know how to be reassuring anymore. And why should he be? He doesn’t know this girl. She’s a supe. Whether she acts like one or not isn’t his business. His business is straightening them out. Ending them if need be.

But something tugs at him. Something akin to guilt, again. Maybe empathy? Who the fuck knows.

“Look. I’m sorry ‘bout the alley alrigh’? Wasn’t my finest moment.” Butcher says sighing, hoping it’ll soften her to him and he can get his information. That’s why he’s doing it. That’s the only reason he apologised…

“Why did you…?” Emmy asks quietly but can’t quite find the right word. Attack her? Accuse her? Threaten her? All of the above?

Butcher shakes his head, “Answer mine ‘nd I’ll answer yours.”

“Okay. Um. So I didn’t know I was a….’supe’….until around 2 days ago.” Emmy begins but stops when Butcher scoffs.

“Whatta you, 25/26?” he asks disbelievingly. He’s never heard of someone being so old before a power materialised.

“29. And it’s weird. Believe me, I know.” Emmy says sternly, annoyed that he’s interrupted her already, “But it’s true.”

Butcher smirks and gestures for her to continue.

“I’ve always been a fast healer.”

“Plus side of being a supe eh?” Butcher says mockingly and he takes note of the way Emmy’s nostrils flare.

“You keep saying that. Supe, supe, supe! Until the other day, I didn’t know I could do what I did.” Emmy bites back angrily.

“And what did you do?” Butcher asks, ignoring her anger and raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Why did you attack me!?” Emmy asks firmly, no longer allowing her fear to cloud her brain. The whole situation is starting to really piss her off. So much had happened in the last couple of days and she honestly felt like she was losing her mind. “You don’t even know my fucking name. But you kicked me in the fucking face.”

Butcher can’t help but smile. She’s feisty, he thinks. A far cry from the grovelling girl in the alley. If he’d been faced with this side of her, he’s not sure she’d be sitting here right now.

“Alrigh’. I’ll play.” Butcher says calmly, “Me ‘nd my…mates…we ain’t a fan of supes doin’ whatever tha fuck they please. And that’s what we fought you were doin’. Now, what. Did. You. Do.”

Emmy sighs and rubs exasperatingly at her face with the sleeves of her hoodie. When she pulls her hands back, she’s surprised at how much bloods come from her face, “Wow. You really did a number on me.”

“That I did.” Butcher responds quickly, grinning. Was he proud of that? Who the fuck is this guy? Why couldn’t that sweet looking one be here instead.

Emmy looks at the blood on her sleeves again and weighs her options. She could stay quiet and probably die. Or try to escape and probably die. Or maybe cooperate and get a chance to live. Not exactly a Sophie’s Choice. She lowers her hands and lets out a large sigh.

If he hates supes so much, maybe he’ll understand?

“When I was ten I was put with a foster family. Had a shit-tone of foster siblings. Like, they never stopped coming and going.” Emmy rubs again at her tired eyes and clears her throat. The man opposite her stares with an unreadable expression. “We were slave labour really….the family….they’re not good people. And you don’t just leave. They make sure of that.”

Emmy stops to gather her thoughts. Fuck she’s tired. And hungry. At that thought, her stomach growls but she jumps when Butcher clears his throat and says, “Haven’t got all day luv.”

Emmy scoffs and nods. Basically, hurry the fuck up.

“What you need to understand is….we were untouchable. We never went to school, but no one questioned it. People showed up dead but the police just, acted like nothing happened. It was like some…hickville mafia.”

“Mafia?” Butcher repeats and Emmy just laughs.

“We weren’t like the Godfather or anything. But yeah. We ran drugs, weapons…..and as I recently found out. People.” Emmy gestures for the bottle of water and Butcher begrudgingly hands it over. She downs the rest of the bottle and feels a blinding pain behind one of her eyes. Great. “Look, I burnt the fucking place down okay.”

Emmy pushes on the increasing pain that throbs behind her eye. This isn’t the time to be getting a migraine. Butcher takes a moment to think on Emmy’s story. It’s not the craziest one he’s ever heard but that’s not hard with the type of shit he sees.

“So your….fire thing. Didn’t happen till the otha day?” he asks plainly.

“Nope. Never had any idea about it.” Emmy answers quickly, squinting against the lights of the room. Butcher’s a pretty good judge of character and he’s basically trained in telling if someone’s lying. She’s not lying.

“Where were you before then? Before the foster family?” Butcher asks while picking up the antiseptic wipes and motioning for Emmy to sit forward. She hesitates but, in the end, finds herself leaning in for him to wipe at the dried blood around her face. He’s not exactly gentle but she does note how he spends time to check each open wound. Making sure nothing nasty has found its way into the cuts.

“That’s the thing. I have no idea.” She pauses briefly to hiss in pain has Butcher presses on a fresh bruise, “Before...the fire…I was going through all the paperwork that I wasn’t supposed to. After I found out about the…people. And I found years’ worth of account stuff I’d never seen. The head of the family is a stickler for paperwork.” Emmy laughs humourlessly. Remembering how many clips round the head she got as a child when something was misfiled, “All these payments to an account I didn’t know about. And it came from one company. Vought.”

At the mention of Vought, Butcher stops his inspection of Emmy’s wounds and sits back to look at her. Emmy finds herself instantly missing the feel of his hands on her face but shakes the thought from her mind as quick as it came.

“Pass me my bag.” She says and after a second Butcher does. She doesn’t go into the bag, instead turns it around to pick at some stiches on it’s back. After the stiches come away, she slips a piece of paper out of a small opening of the fabric. She opens the paper, which is singed, to show a large payment from Vought to who Butcher imagines to be the foster family.

“There were years’ worth of these. Why was Vought sending random payments to a small crime family!?” Emmy asks, knowing Butcher wouldn’t have the answer to her question, “I saw the name and…just…I have this feeling. That Vought had something to do with…me. The bits I can’t remember.”

Butcher’s mind was racing. That was a lot of information to get in a couple of seconds. Should he ask her more about her foster family? No they don’t matter....or do they? He has no bloody clue. From the burnt edges of the paper he can only assume the rest of the papers went up in flames.

Emmy’s just watching him for a reaction but he has no idea what to say yet. He can’t exactly fill her in on his business, but he’s also not planning on letting her walk out the door so quickly when she may know more than she thinks. So he does what he usually does. Acts.

Butcher quickly snatches the piece of paper from Emmy and pockets it.

“Hey!” Emmy says lunging forward, only to be pushed easily back onto the sofa by Butcher. He gets up and goes into the other room and comes back a second later with his coat.

“There’s some food around ‘ere somewhere. Water in the tap.” He says gesturing around and not directly looking at Emmy.

“Where the fuck are you going!?” Emmy shouts, jumping up. She’s quite a bit shorter than Butcher but he has to admire her temper.

“Look, if I were you, I’d grab summit ta eat. Pop some painkillers ‘nd takea nap. But that’s just me.” he says bending down condescendingly to Emmy’s height.

Before Emmy can say anything else, Butcher sweeps past her to the door. He gets his phone out and puts it to his ear.

“Don’t worry Sparky, I’ll be back latea.” Butcher winks before calling whoever is on the other line a “cunt” and slamming the door behind him. Emmy also hears the obvious clunk of a lock sliding into place.

Emmy looks around the dark, dingy room as the pain in her head starts to really make itself known. She stands in the same spot Butcher left her in for at least 5 minutes, going over the last day or so in her mind.

“I need a fucking drink.”

#billy butcher #billy butcher x oc #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys #hughie campbell #mothers milk #billy butcher smut #karl urban #sparks fly

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