You can tell Mew’s dramatic ass was raised by lesbians because instead of just getting angry like a normal person, he spent his whole birthday party plotting and then waited to drop the bomb until Top was half naked and horny. What a king
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[book spoilers]
Lockwood’s idea of a grand gesture is to be more of a fool than usual, more death-defying than usual, to make sure that Lockwood & Co. was always on front page news because if Lucy was the best then Lockwood & Co. could be nothing less than THE best agency to deserve her, to get her to return. And no, he doesn’t stop there. He may not have asked you to return on bended knee like you wanted Lucy, but like any proper gentleman caller he couldn’t come to your door empty-handed. He brings THE case, that one case that Lucy could never refuse coming from Fittes herself. I bet he spent all those four months searching for that one case. Because see the plan was always for her to return and Lockwood has always been an end-justifies-the-means kind of guy. And the way he gets her on board speaks a lot about his own character and how well he knows Lucy.
Lockwood has always been slightly manipulative and he uses the full force of that skill during that reunion with Lucy. Every move was calculated. From his suit he wears like armor, each one carefully chosen. An old coat that reminds them of a case they worked on together, an immaculate new suit (Really? Just to hire her again?), and to top it all of, a tie which Lucy specifically gave him. He catches her off guard, he doesn’t give her time to get her bearings. He knows asking her outright to return wouldn’t work. Even if he did beg, that already failed when he ended up so angry that he left Lucy behind in that cafe (the fact that Lockwood who prides himself on being a gentleman could leave a girl, and Lucy of all people, shows that his emotions were completely haywire that day). In other words, Lucy’s stubbornness proved stronger than his own. So he had to change tactics. He had to make sure that her returning would be all her idea, that she would return all on her own.
Because see, he didn’t need a case to see her. He could have visited at any time after they didn’t have closure when Lucy snuck away in the dawn to leave. He could have normalized ties between them and remained friends even as Lucy was now a freelance agent. But he didn’t. He made sure they didn’t have closure. He didn’t even acknowledge her leaving because to do otherwise would make it final. On Lucy’s end I think she wouldn’t have minded if they could be friends and talk casually together again. She wanted it. But that’s not what Lockwood wanted. He wouldn’t have been satisfied unless Lucy was back home with them. Like a jilted lover, he needed a grand gesture to draw her back in.
So he does everything. He lies. “I wouldn’t ask you again to return.” “It’s just a one-off.” “One night, two max.” But and even though Lucy couldn’t fully see through him, what they really meant, she did pick up on signs of him fraying and unraveling. The uncertain smile that was simultaneously just for her and was shades paler than his usual gigawatt smile, the slight bitterness that she was willing to work with other agencies but not his, that studied nonchalance as if he wasn’t keeping track of her progress and whereabouts the same way Lucy tried not to follow news of Lockwood and Co., the deflection, deflection, deflection.
He doesn’t answer properly regarding Holly because he still thinks she might have had something to do with Lucy leaving.
“George didn’t like it.” This is his mixing up of I and we tendency again but way worse. For him to use George to say that she was missed was egregious because couldn’t he just say that he missed her? Or even we missed you, we didn’t like it [the idea of replacing you]. It wouldn’t be so strange. He is as much her friend as George. Unless her leaving cut him more deeply. And we know he represses that sh*t. So he doesn’t even include himself in the equation anymore maybe because he thought it would make Lucy uncomfortable because not even him losing control of his emotions, being exposed and raw could get her to stay. Or at least that’s what he tells himself when in reality he’s fortified his barriers once again. He made himself open for Lucy, all the anger he’d kept tightly locked inside, and still - she left. So he can’t even talk to Lucy anymore without using someone or something as a conduit, projecting himself because he can’t expose himself to that sort of vulnerability again until he accomplishes his goal. So yeah there’s plenty of bitterness on his part, but what trumps that, always trumps it and his pride (because I’m sure part of him expected that Lucy would come back earlier on her own so he was just waiting and when that didn’t happen because see in a contest of wills Lucy’s would always trump his own, he’s weak when it comes to her, he’s the one who comes to her instead) - is that base desire for her to just come back.
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Is This a Bad Dream? (spiderverse!LN au)
so..... i have this.... au... right........
lets be real i have too many aus
its Little Nightmares but Spiderverse characters.
BEFORE YOU VOTE: read below the cut i just want to make this intro part short lol. whats below the cut is very long btw so. you have been warned XD
SO. with the recent (not so recent anymore but at the time it was recent lol) announcement of ln3 i lost my mind and went back to watch playthroughs of ln2 and got my googily little gears turning.
im thinking about this very much like an actual little nightmares game if not a little longer than the average game. (eg. 10 chapters instead of the usual 5). the main playable character is miles, and your party is the rest of the kids, mainly gwen, but with pav and hobie to help with puzzles or specific skills.
concept designs for the party + margo and peni. (might change miles and pavitr's designs cuz not sure i like them.
i have most of the bosses figured out and the general pace and timeline of the story but setting and the final two bosses are giving me problems.
anyway here's an excerpt:
It was always night time.
Miles could sit in his window and watch the sky all day, but it would always stay dark. The lights outside were bright enough so he could see, but the sky was always gray. Or sometimes black. He leans against the glass sometimes just to try to see the sky clearer.
Sometimes the sky would come down to him. The clouds would crawl out of the sky and walk on the streets with footsteps that sounded like the pitter patter of his own little feet. It would walk on the roof sometimes too. He could hear its feet stomping on the sharp shingles. He wondered if it hurt.
The ceiling would cry if the sky stomped on it too much. Drops of water would run out of the holes in the white paint and into the buckets littered around his room. There were only two, one was empty right now, the other was full. They were lovely little things- well, they were actually quite big. Miles climbed inside them sometimes, perfectly sized to curl up on their rounded bottoms.
He drank his house’s tears sometimes. He got thirsty a lot, even though he never really left the room. He would sometimes get a little tray from the lady in the wall. She came up every so often and gave him a tray with some food and a glass cup full of water.
She was a nice lady. She didn’t talk though. So he didn’t either.
He never left his room. She had her own door, but every time he tried to follow, he couldn’t open the door. There was a bigger door. He remembered at one time, people had come out of it. They would use their large warm hands to lift him up onto the big bed in the corner. They would pat his head and tuck him in with the warm blanket and fluffy pillow. They would speak to him too, in words he didn’t understand.
He remembered long brown hair and kind eyes. He remembered a stubbly beard and warm smile. He remembered feeling warm when they were looking at him, feeling like he could stay where he was forever.
But that was a long time ago. He gave up on counting. He had started counted the times the sky went dark. The lines were scratched into the post at the foot of the bed. When those lines filled up all the space, he started counting the times the ceiling cried. But he lost track.
He was lonely now.
He couldn’t reach the big door. No matter how hard he tried. He tried jumping for it. He tried to climb up the wardrobe leg. But he never got high enough. So he stayed. He stayed on the floor of this room, watching the water fill up the buckets again and again.
The walls were covered in color. Miles drew all over them. He had crayons that the lady in the wall had brought him one time. It was a big box, filled with more colors than Miles could name. He drew on the dry wallpaper, filling all of the gray space with shapes and scribbles. He had filled up all of the space he could reach, wearing down so many of the crayons down to their paper wrappings. So he moved to the floor. He filled up the floor too, drawing himself adventures that took him far away from the crying house. He drew himself running up to the sky and giving it hugs whenever it cried.
The floor was full of color too now.
He sat on the window that was nailed shut, and listened to the footsteps of the sky. He was happy here. He was . . .
jazz hands.
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