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infinite-orangepeel · 2 years ago

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a whumpy af steve harrington excerpt from ch. 1 of my soft dom eddie fic

aka this boy has a lot of unresolved trauma & eddie munson is going to help him heal

(the rest of the chapter that contains the actual smut will be linked below, i’m scared of tumblr shadow banning me again for posting the full thing in here)

TW: panic attacks, discussions of mental illness, suicidal ideation, vomiting/nausea (as symptom of panic attacks), disordered eating habits, ptsd, heavy themes, lots of emotions

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It comes down to this. Steve Harrington doesn’t trust himself. Not anymore. Not since everything went to shit in The Upside Down and Max ended up on life support.

Honestly, he didn’t feel all that abnormal about it for the first few months. It was easier to ignore the magnitude of his problems when his friends were clearly struggling right alongside him. There was something about strength in numbers or a sense of community–being convinced he wasn’t the only one totally fucked up in the aftermath of the final battle.

Regardless, it kept him afloat for a while.

Robin often called in the middle of the night to vent about her own flashbacks and the nightmares they prompted. The two grew accustomed to seeking comfort on opposite ends of the telephone line, twisting the cords around their fingers and whispering “ me too, I have that one too,” as to not wake the monsters underneath their beds. Sometimes, it got so bad that the sun would rise and they’d still be trying to snap each other out of it. Yawning through the agony of another sleepless night and fixing themselves cups of black coffee to alleviate the ensuing exhaustion.

Lucas had shown up on his doorstep enough times that Steve finally had another key made. He was tired of coming home from work and seeing the boy sulking there out in the cold–grief written plainly all over his face. Steve handed him the key on a carabiner clip–so Lucas could comfortably carry it around on his belt loop–and assured him he was welcome day or night. Steve’s parents had moved out of town after the infamous Hawkins’ “earthquake,” so Steve was solely in charge of approving any and all guests at the Harrington household. Lucas, of course, was at the top of his list–he was family, they all were. As long as the boy agreed to let himself in, warm-up on the couch, and grab a snack from the pantry–he could come over any hour he needed. No more rotting outside with tears forming icicles on his cheeks. Steve wouldn’t have that.

El refused to leave her bedroom–holed up beneath a fort of blankets and wouldn’t speak to anyone for days on end–until Hopper called up the gang and they elected ‘Babysitter Steve’ to go handle it. He was the most qualified in their eyes, what with his protective older brother attitude, gentle approach, and dorky jokes. Sure enough, El didn’t banish him right off the bat–not like she had with some of the others–namely, Mike Wheeler. She let him get close without protest and when he hugged her, she fell apart against his chest–guilt pouring out of her at the fact that she hadn’t been able to save Max from Vecna. He brushed the knots out of her hair with cautious fingers and listened. She just needed someone to listen. That was all it took. By the end of the night, she was sandwiched in between him and Hopper on the well worn couch, openly laughing at the plot of Pretty in Pink.

Nancy wore a poker face for the most part, but she wasn’t completely immune to the lasting effects of trauma. She held it together in public, like the first lady at a brutal press conference–politely smiling and waving for the crowd. She’d made it her personal goal to distract the kids from what was really going on–with Max–back at the hospital. This manifested itself in her implementation of weekly game nights, arcade afternoons, and community service outings. Naturally, Steve attended more than a handful of these events–lending a helping hand to rangle the younger teens. It was only once the kids had been dropped off at their respective addresses that Nancy would let her artificial smile fall and tell Steve what was really on her mind. The loss, the fear, the worry. He’d hold her hand– platonically of course, it wasn’t like that anymore –across the center console of his BMW and nod along to the tune of her suffering. It was one he knew well, played on repeat.

Thus, Steve managed his own anxiety by keeping that of the others at bay. His role became narrowly defined as the one who would help you regulate your breathing through the course of a vicious panic attack, the one who was considered reliable in a world that had become anything but. It gave him a sense of purpose and a reason to keep moving forward. He couldn’t simply hide away in his oversized bedroom when he knew his friends were busy laying catatonic in theirs. So, day after day, he pulled himself up by his bootstraps, usually forgot to eat, chugged excessive amounts of caffeine, and set out to mend all of the broken wings but his very own two.

Eventually, there was healing. The ball started rolling around the time Max woke up. After four months of breathing tubes, IV’s, heavy medications, and machines keeping her alive–she opened her eyes one day and slowly began to inhabit her body again. Within a few weeks of round-the-clock physical therapy, solid foods, and monitored pain management–she was discharged from the ICU and returned home. Cane in hand, coke bottle glasses on the bridge of her nose, and slight gaps in memory–she wasn’t the same, but she was as close to it as she could be and that was all that mattered. She was breathing on her own accord–beautiful, steady inhales and exhales–that alone was a miracle in and of itself.

After Max settled back into her normal life, everyone else seemed to follow suit. Once the high school was fixed up by the hands of a devoted construction crew and summer came to a close, the kids started in on their sophomore year. Fall semester provided a new routine that included basketball practices, D&D campaigns (Will Byers quickly ascended to President of Hellfire Club in Eddie’s place), and tests to study for. On top of all that, somehow Steve was going to have to teach each of the little twerps how to drive, which absolutely terrified him. However, there was no way he was going to let anyone else instruct his kids on how to be safe behind the wheel. Yeah, no fucking way.

The Party finally had the opportunity to just be kids–for the first time in almost four years–and Steve was happy for them. Really, he was. Now, they could ride their bikes around the neighborhood–just for the heck of it, not because they were pedaling away from otherworldly monsters. They could waste time down by the lake and not have to search the murky waters for the dead body of their missing friend. They could be innocent and stupid and naive and not have to worry so much about the life altering consequences.

And, as happy as he was for them, Steve just couldn’t help but selfishly miss the era in which Lucas spent most nights on his couch–talking about nothing until the wee hours of the morning. The era in which El asked him to drive her to Family Video each Saturday–ready to pick out the next chick flick that would make Hopper groan. His schedule and his house suddenly felt a lot emptier without a bunch of rugrats calling upon their favorite babysitter. The silence often felt like it could swallow him whole. He hated it.

As for Nance and Robin, they had their own paths to explore–ones that unfortunately, didn’t directly involve Steve. That was okay, but it also wasn’t.

Nancy was reapplying to Emerson–early decision–and like everything else she did, she was hellbent on her college essays being absolutely perfect. She made the local library her second home as she wrote and edited and then edited some more. Steve knew there was not a chance in the world that Nancy Wheeler wasn’t going to be accepted to the school of her dreams and become an incredible journalist. She was destined for greatness. Always had been.

Robin landed herself a girlfriend and was so lovesick it hurt. Vickie quickly became the center of her universe. She had this insane gravitational pull on Steve’s best friend and he’d never seen anything like it. Robin looked like a whole new person, shining from the inside out. They did their best to include him in their plans on a regular basis, but Steve really didn’t want to burden them with his presence. Not that the girls ever made him feel that way. He was just a bit too aware of the fact that no couple looks forward to having a constant third-wheel, so he backed off when he could and lied about being busier than he was–acting like there was a laundry list of activities for him to attend to.

Truthfully, he spent most weekends alone in front of the T.V. or picking up extra shifts at the video store. Unsure of how he suddenly became the only one stuck in the past, haunted by creatures that no longer walked the Earth. It didn’t make sense. Why couldn’t he move on like everyone else? Max had been kissed by death and yet, she made it to school every day and somehow, still found the energy to ask Lucas to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Steve, on the other hand, had exited The Upside Down with minor injuries–practically, unscathed–but for some reason, he dry heaved into the toilet every morning and questioned his entire existence. Spitting up bile and wondering how long it would take before his heart jumped ship, too. He imagined it would only be a matter of time, before the center of his own being decided it was unwilling to marinate in the sad toxic wasteland any longer. Abandoning him and begging to be flushed down, along with the rest.

It’s definitely less than ideal to have some idiot ring your doorbell, when you’re right in the middle of balling your eyes out–facedown on the living room floor–and wondering why God or the universe or whatever the fuck just had to plop you down on this cursed planet in the first place.

It’s actually super embarrassing and kind of the stuff of his nightmares, but that’s exactly the position Steve Harrington finds himself in on a random Tuesday evening.

There’s nothing special about it. Just another day trying not to break apart at the seams, wasting the hours by choking on his unforgiving past. Nothing left to do, but wallow in self-hatred and stare at the popcorn ceiling.

In theory, he could just play dead and ignore the irritating chime of the bell, but on the off chance that it’s one of his friends or the pizza delivery guy has arrived early–he begrudgingly gets up and makes his way to the front door. Dizzy from standing up too fast on an empty stomach, he reaches out for the wall to steady his gait. Unable to find the motivation to clean up his appearance before wrapping his trembling fingers around the cold doorknob. Whoever it is, is just going to have to deal with the mess–just like Steve does every single day.

There’s no nice way to say it. Steve looks like shit. There’s dark circles ringing his sunken eyes that make him look like the kin of the local raccoons. The same ones that devour his uneaten groceries from the garbage cans each week. It’s a charitable donation–philanthropic even. He goes on a depression fueled hunger strike and his furry nocturnal neighbors get a feast fit for a king.

Due to his inability to nourish himself anymore, his cheeks have hallowed out, his muscles have shrunken down, and his once tan skin appears jaundiced–sickly yellow. There’s acrid bile drying on his cracked lips from the most recent upheaval of his guts. This time it was spurred on by the grotesque image of Vecna’s corpse-like face. It keeps popping up in his mind without warning, like one of those jack in the box clown toys–raking the sharp nails of nausea across the lining of his stomach.

He doesn’t immediately register who the person on the other side of the door is, which is laughable, because it wasn’t all that long ago that Steve carried the guy’s limp body out of an alternate dimension and gave him mouth to mouth. They’re not exactly strangers.

Thirty seconds go by before his brain starts back up and processes the identity of the man standing before him. As if the secretary of his memory had disappeared from the front desk and took a while searching the filing cabinets to fill in the blanks:

Mr. Harrington? Sorry about the delay. We’ve located the files. That’s Eddie Munson you’re looking at. We’re sure of it.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were-” Steve starts, roughly wiping at his bloodshot eyes to make sure he’s not hallucinating. Anything is possible when you’ve lived through what he has.

“-in hiding?” Eddie says nonchalantly, leaning against the porch–he’s taller than Steve remembers, “I was. Spent a lot of time bored as shit in a rather crappy hotel room, but Hopper gave me the all clear yesterday and I just moved back into my Uncle’s place. Sorry if I stink, it’s because I’ve been carting boxes around all day–you’ll have to get over it.”

#this one is angsty #whump steve harrington #steddie fic writers #steddie ficlet #steddie fic excerpt #steddie ao3 fic #ao3 steddie #steddie recs #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #soft dom eddie munson #bottom steve harrington #steddie smut #steddie angst #steve x eddie #steve harrington needs a hug #the babygirlification of steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson

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tartarusknight · 1 year ago

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5 Random Words Fic

Rules: Generate 5 random words using this generator and then write something using those words! Tag 5 (or however many you want) mutuals to challenge! (If you don’t like your 5 words, try again. This is supposed to be fun!)

Tagged by @nburkhardt <3

Grief, Floodgate, Outcast, Claim, Penitence

(Little late but I honestly forgot this was in my drafts lol)

Let Steve say on record that he didn't really like Jason Carver. The kid was annoying and picked up his anger from his dad.

Or, um, their dad.

Because at the end of the day, Steve's dad was a cheating piece of shit who thought it was a smart thing to move their family to the small town of Hawkins after he got a young girl pregnant. And then he thought he'd be able to hide it and care for his wife, who just had their kid, and his girlfriend, who was pregnant.

It didn't work.

Even so, that didn't mean Steve ever had to deal with the Carver's much. Soon after Jason was born, his mom married another man, and his dad slept with ore random women, just with more caution than before. It meant Steve didn't really have a dad, and Jason had a step dad. And while Steve's mom didn't want him and Jason to interact, Jason's mom was the opposite.

At first, Steve had kind of wanted that friendship. He thought it would be awesome to have a younger brother. But he soon learned the floodgate that opened up with that. His mom screamed at Steve and his dad. Claiming it wasn't fair and that she didn't want her son around the tramp and the bastard son.

And well, Steve hated seeing her mom so angry so he listened. He did everyone a favor and pushed himself away from Jason. Steve didn't completely ignore him though, smiling at him at school. But he worried about getting too close ever again and making his mom angry.

He didn't really bother with Jason outside of sports, as bad as it sounded. He expected Jason to hate him for it, but he never really did. And by the time they got to high school and the Upside Down shit started, he hated himself for giving up on that relationship. Sure, he saw Jason's mean streak, but he also felt like he could've helped him.

When he became close friends with Dustin, he felt worse, like he was replacing the younger brother that he could've had. Sure Steve did small things, like talking to the coach about handing over the title to Jason the next year or smiling at him in the hallways. Tiny little things that never felt like enough, but it felt like Steve couldn't become Jason's friend now after all this time. Not to mention all the trauma that put a barrier between Steve and everyone else (minus the party, though).

And when Billy pushed him off his throne and made him an outcast to the of his best ability for Steve's senior year, Jason didn't do anything to help him. He didn't step in when Billy pushed him around. But Steve didn't expect him to. They weren't truly friends or brothers. In fact, he saw the kids more as siblings than Jason ever would be. Still, there was always that little voice in the back of his head, saying that Steve didn't try hard enough.

After Steve had graduated, he figured he might never see Jason again, but he underestimated Jason's determination to be his friend. Stopping by Scoops than Family Video always getting something, but he always tried to have a long conversation with Steve. Robin said that Jason (even though he was a prick) obviously looked up to Steve, and that was without the knowledge that they were related.

But it was the spring break of 1986 that Steve was forced to examine those feelings. The anger when Jason rallied the town into a witch hunt against an innocent man. That because of Jason no one would trust Eddie even after the government cleared his name.

But when Steve sat in his joint room with Eddie and Max (thanks to Nancy's stubbornness) he only felt grief. Sitting with Robin on his bed. Dustin is over by Eddie with Nancy sitting on the end of Eddie's bed. Erica between Max and Steve with Lucas right next to Max, they talked about all that happened.

First had been Nancy then a mix of Dustin and Eddie talking over each other before the final group started talking. Lucas took the lead until he got to Jason. Steve felt anger boil in him as Lucas told them that Jason had given him his first concussion. That Max was in the hospital because of Jason. Both Sinclairs were hurt because of Jason.

But then came the rest of the news. The crack opens up and Jason is ripped apart. "That little bitch got what was coming for him," Erica snapped.

Lucas gave a tired, "Erica."

She just shrugged her shoulders, "Just the facts."

Steve had frozen then before the grief had hit. He wanted to agree with Erica, and claim that Jason deserved it but he couldn't. Steve just went quiet as everyone else kept talking until Robin gave him a little shake. "Is the pain getting bad?" She whispered as quietly as she could with his bad hearing.

He shook his head and looked over at her worried face. "I'm ok," he murmured and she didn't look to believe him. He had chosen the kids over Jason for siblings and now this is his penance. The world put Jason against his kids and Jason died. And Steve wasn't even there. He couldn't've done anything to help either of them.

The rest of the party were talking but he and Robin stayed quiet. He leaned over to her, "Do you think it hurt Jason?" He whispered even though he truly knew the answer.

She raised an eyebrow, "He was torn in half. I don't think it felt nice." Robin joked and Steve nodded, feeling lost for a moment. Steve had never wanted to claim Jason as his brother. Even less after this week but it didn't matter. Steve lost a brother as estranged as they had been.

Maybe if Steve had been kinder, better... there. Maybe Jason would be alive. Maybe Steve could've stopped this.

"You okay, Stevie?" Eddie asked from the bed over and Steve looked over.

He pictured his brother dying terribly because of his anger towards this man right here. He pictured the fear Jason had to have after seeing Patrick die. But he took a deep breath, "Yeah."

Steve had ignored death before. He ignored Jason before. He could do it again. "Yeah man," he repeated, forcing himself to smile at the metalhead.

#tartarusknight #stranger things #steve harrington #hurt steve harrington #jason carver #post season 4 #I don't know what this is #:)

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princess-of-the-corner · 2 years ago

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Hey i’ve been looking through a bunch of your WOWP stuff, (absolutely ADORE your ideas and aus btw, every time I rewatched the show I was wishing for some kind of prolonged Alex villain arc) and I wanted to know your thoughts on a darkish au that’s been in the back of my mind for a bit. If i’m too long or wordy feel free to ignore this, I just got thrown back into my hyperfixation with this show at light speed.

I’m not new with this but Justin and Alex’s dynamic is my favorite in the show, the siblings are just so great with eachother, and i’ve been thinking like. Justin saves Alex SO many times, like it’s a reoccurring joke within the show pretty much. It’s part of his character, he even says that fixing other people’s messes (Alex) “makes his life complete”. What would happen if we pushed the “bad wizard government” undertones up to 11, and had some wizard council with Crumbs and some others, decide that Alex, being so powerful and so reckless, is a threat to their order and status as the rulemakers of the world. And what if they either managed to kidnap her or kill her outright (the latter would obviously never happen in the actual show but for my personal enjoyment of my favorite characters having bad things happen to them it’s an option). The family doesn’t know what happened and is devastated.

I also like to imagine here that Justin and Alex have experienced so much together and have almost lost each-other so many times that they’re a bit codependent on each other due to trauma, and even though they can’t stand each other in their day-to-day there’s this underlying attachment to their sibling that is very strong but also definitely needs a therapist to help work out.

And THEN, seeing Justin as their little pawn and not wanting his loyalty to stray, they grant him his full powers early, along with a seat on the wizard senate or whatever. The family still misses Alex but they’re at least proud of Justin, Theresa and Jerry trying to stay positive for their son’s sake. But right at Justin’s ceremony, Crumbs makes some sort of weird comment or joke about how they’ve “finally got everything right with that Russo family” and it clicks in Justin’s mind.

So he realizes that he has everything he ever wanted, all the people he desperately wanted to prove himself too are looking at him with pride in their eyes, he’s about to be a full wizard with both magical and political power. He put Crumbs&co on a pedestal for so long!

And they killed his sister. Who he spent so much of his life and emotional energy protecting and praying that she and him would make it out alive.

Max is the first to see his brother’s face, his goofy smile drops and he just says to no one in particular, “Justin..?”

Maybe this is way too dramatic but maybe Justin starts having a power surge brought on by emotions, he JUST got full powers and doesn’t know how to contain them yet, and it’s not like he’s trying too hard. He ends up injuring a few people, mostly the higher-ups, and disappears. All facades are down now, Crumbs orders a wizard-worldwide search for Justin immediately. They can’t let him get away, who knows what a Russo kid could do gone rouge with full powers.

The family are stunned. After the shock goes away it’s a panic, they have to find Justin before, well, anyone else does. They can’t lose another child.

Justin, meanwhile, is freaking out. He’s alone, he doesn’t know what to do. Long story short he ends up starting a rebellion against the wizard government, but so overcome by feelings of grief and betrayal that he doesn’t think straight. Maybe he goes back to the dark angels, and maybe theres some situations while he’s a rebel leader that Justin acts way out of line, and justifies it by saying he’s doing it for Alex.

Plot twist though, everyone thought Alex was dead but she escaped! She put a pillowcase in her coffin and everyone just. Went with it. It works for sneaking out of her bedroom, why not a grave.

Anyways, the first person to find Justin is her, and he think’s he’s hallucinating at first and says something very concerning like “Hah, nice try brain. This one almost looks real!” because I think he deserves to have an absolute breakdown for my personal entertainment

Alex finally convinces him she’s real, and sees what her brother’s become. He shows her the revolution base, full of scorned human siblings who lost the competition, beings and species who are angry at being treated like second-class citizens, and various wizards who want a change. Alex, being Alex, is like “Yeah revolution!” at first, but theres a side story about Alex and Justin disagreeing on how the revolution should be led, with Justin having more of an ‘iron fist’ that Alex HATES.

It results in wizard council finding Justin and Alex at the same time, the council thinks that Justin tampered with dark magic to bring her back to life and are more resolved then ever to take them both down. After a battle ending in a stalemate the news goes public. It’s now official for the world to see, Alex and Justin Russo are the faces of the Wizards rebellion.

Dark as hell and honestly I love the concept. I think this is one of those things that could either be an epic fic, and/or something where we go 'let's just change the names and make this an original work'.

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berenwrites · 2 years ago

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Whole New Us Ch19 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Whole New Us: Trauma Bonded and Beyond

Also on AO3 | Or here CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 | CH10 | CH11 | CH12 | CH13 | CH14 | CH15 | CH16 | CH17 | CH18 | CH19 | CH20 | CH21 | CH22 | CH23 | CH24 | CH25 (Mature) | CH25 (Fade to black) COMPLETE

Summary: Steve has been ignoring his own problems, he’s been busy. They’ve all been busy, preoccupied with fixing everything that was broken. Vecna has been defeated, but the Upside Down is still there, and the gates are not completely closed even though Hawkins has almost returned to normal. It’s been a couple of months and the aftereffects of Steve’s encounter with the demobats is about to come back to bite him. However, it also brings some unexpected hope.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Rating: Teen (with mature content in later chapters)

Chapter 19. Just About Perfect

It had been quite a week. The less Steve had to think about the previous weekend, the better. Not that his brain was letting him get away with that a lot, but he was doing his best. He had never considered it before, not even after Starcourt, but he was thinking of taking Owens up on the offer of a government sanctioned therapist to talk to. While Eddie and Robin were amazing, he was beginning to think having an outside pair of eyes who did not share any of the trauma might be helpful.

However, the week was ending far better. Max had returned on the Friday afternoon and seeing her smiling had been wonderful. She had dark glasses for outside and pretty thick lensed ones for inside, but when she had gone off for treatment, she had barely been able to see at all. Now she could even read. It was awesome.

The whole party had descended on her and her mom’s new, government provided apartment to welcome her home. There had been a lot of hugging, during which Steve had also put forward the invitation to everyone to invade his place for a pool party on the Sunday as a welcome back to those who had been away and a congratulations to the new high school graduates.

Everyone had said they would be there, including the Corroded Coffin boys who Eddie had called once they got home. Joyce had cornered Steve and asked what she could bring, so there was that too.

However, before the gathering, there was actual graduation.

Steve really hadn’t cared at all about his own graduation, but sitting there this year with Dustin, Wayne, and everyone else, he was excited. It was a little bit weird in that there were empty seats among the graduates. Those whose families had moved on and hadn’t come back once they were told it was safe. A couple in memory of those who would never have a chance to come back, like Chrissy.

Jason Carver had an empty chair as well, but Steve refused to think about him. He was dead, he had caused his own demise and that was as far as Steve cared to consider it.

What he chose to focus on were the people he was there for.

Nancy had made valedictorian, which had surprised no one, but made them all proud none-the-less. Her speech was magnificent, in Steve’s opinion. She spoke about fear and strength and grief and somehow managed to chastise the whole town for their reaction to the disaster in the spring in a way no one could object to, as well as praising those who were still there for their courage in continuing their community. It was a masterclass in words and passion and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house by the time she was done.

Steve was pretty sure the world should be trembling at the idea of Nancy Wheeler stepping out into it.

Thanks to the wonders of the alphabet, Robin was up first. She looked spectacularly awkward in her Sunday best and cap and gown, and Steve had listened to her complain about the shoes her mom was making her wear for weeks, but she also looked radiantly happy. As her name was called, everyone in their group cheered as loudly as they could.

Steve found himself on his feet, because how could he not when his platonic soulmate was walking the stage.

Robin smiled and gave them a little wave once she had her diploma in hand. When she almost fell down the steps at the other side of the stage Steve’s heart almost stopped, even as he prepared to dash to the rescue, but she righted herself before disaster struck.

Two members of the basketball team who weren’t seniors walked the stage for Jason when his name was called. The silence felt heavy to Steve. Jason’s actions had come to light when the original cover story had been released. While some in town had decided he was justified, others hadn’t and the tension in the room was palpable.

However, when Chrissy’s name was called, it couldn’t have been more different. There was respectful silence as her brother walked the stage in her absence, accepting her diploma where she could not. A couple of her friends threw white roses onto the stage as well. It was a sombre moment.

Steve made sure to cheer loudly for the person following her to make sure they felt supported even after the show of grief.

When Eddie was next in line at the bottom of the steps Steve met his eyes and gave him a supportive smile. To the outside world, Eddie undoubtedly looked supremely confident. Under the gown, Steve knew there were unripped jeans and an actual button-down shirt, although they were paired with chains, so Eddie had part of his armour on. He was wearing two rings too. Not any of the favourites that had been lost, but a couple Wayne had found in the bottom of a box when looking out some of Eddie’s things for him. They were clearly made for smaller hands. Eddie had one on each of his pinky fingers.

That Steve could feel Eddie’s anxiety ticking away in the back of his brain illustrated quite how good an actor Eddie could be.

When his name was called, their group, once again went wild. Anyone who might have wanted to object didn’t have a chance. Steve felt his heart swell with pride as he surged to his feet. He could feel the eyes that came their way, but he didn’t care. He cheered for his boyfriend without remorse. Eddie deserved his moment.

Unlike what Steve had heard Eddie threaten to do, Eddie did not flip off the principle once he had his diploma. Rather he turned towards their group and did a very dramatic bow, before all but skipping off the stage.

Jeff was next and earned a big cheer from them all as well. It was Gareth who was the loudest for that part.

And finally, they made it to W, and Nancy was on the stage once more, this time to collect her diploma. Jonathan and Mike were definitely competing to see who could be loudest when cheering for her.

Steve couldn’t stop grinning the whole time.

~*~

Robin was celebrating with her family. Nancy was celebrating with her family. And Jeff was celebrating with his family too. Which seemed to be how it should be in Steve’s mind, even if his parents hadn’t even bothered to come back to town for his graduation. Hence Steve had insisted he would be perfectly happy at home while Eddie and Wayne celebrated Eddie’s graduation as a family, but he had been quickly dispelled of the notion.

“You carried my boy out of hell, Son, you are family,” Wayne had said when he had first mentioned it.

Hence, once the ceremonies were over, and all the pictures had been taken and hugs given, Steve found himself in the diner with Eddie and Wayne. There were milkshakes and delicious, incredibly bad for them food, and it was wonderful. They hadn’t had the chance to have the conversation with Wayne they needed to have yet, and they were in public, so Steve couldn’t kiss the blob of cream off the end of Eddie’s nose when it ended up there, but that was the only downside of the meal.

“And now we’re fed, it’s gift time,” Wayne said after they had all eaten fit to bursting.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie immediately said, but the way he sat forward, and his eyes sparkled, Steve could tell he was excited.

“Ah, shut your trap, Eds, ‘course I did,” Wayne replied gruffy, but so fondly it made Steve’s heart swell. “Now, it’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

The older man pushed an odd-shaped parcel across the table. Eddie grinned before picking it up and ripping into the paper. He made a show of tearing it into pieces like he was attacking it and Steve couldn’t help laughing. Eddie looked positively possessed.

Wayne just watched with a fond smile as if he’d seen it all before, which he probably had. It felt like a tradition that Steve was being allowed to see.

“Oh, Uncle Wayne, I love it,” Eddie crowed as he finally revealed what looked like a mug.

Steve grinned as he found it being all but shoved in his face by a delighted Eddie. It was indeed a mug, a Garfield mug to be precise. It looked like the one Steve had seen on a shelf in the trailer before it had been destroyed, only this one had a graduation cap over one ear.

“It’s great,” Steve agreed as Eddie put it down and surged over the table to give his uncle a hug.

Thanking the universe for his new reflexes, Steve grabbed it before Eddie accidentally knocked it flying. He shared a look with Wayne over Eddie’s shoulder.

As soon as he sat back down, Eddie poured what was left of his milkshake into the mug where Steve had set it back down. Steve was pretty sure the mug should have been washed before use, but Eddie didn’t seem to care.

“Um, I have something for you too,” he said after Eddie made a big show of drinking out of the mug.

He pulled the small, wrapped box from his pocket and put it on the table.

“Stevie,” Eddie said, “you shouldn’t have.”

“Like Wayne said, Eds, of course I did,” he replied. “You finally did it, you graduated, even though half the teachers in the school marked you hard just because you’re you. You deserve rewards.”

He had every intention of rewarding Eddie some more once they were home alone, but that was just between them.

Eddie gave him a pleased smile and picked up the gift. He shook it like a five-year-old trying to guess what was in the parcel under the tree, because of course he did. It rattled, even though Steve had put in plenty of padding.

“I found them in the thrift store a couple of weeks ago,” Steve said as Eddie finally tore into the paper. “They called your name and when you got the letter I knew when I could give them to you.”

Contrary to how Eddie had ripped off the paper, the way he opened the box was positively gentle.

“Can’t have you wandering around without your armour,” he said quietly as Eddie stared into the box.

Eddie’s deep brown eyes came up to meet his own gaze and the air felt thick between them.

“They’re perfect,” Eddie said and pulled them out of the box, before slipping them on two of the fingers on his left hand.

Steve had been amazed when he had seen the rings sitting in a basket of jewellery in the thrift store. They seemed like the kind of thing an insular town like Hawkins would have thrown out, but there they had been. They had only cost a couple of dollars, but he had known Eddie would love them. One was a skull with tiny little fangs. The other was a dragon’s head, beathing fire.

“Ah,” Wayne said dragging both their attention off each other, “that’s how it is then.”

The way Wayne was looking between them almost had Steve panicking. He knew what Eddie had said about Wayne’s acceptance of Eddie, but that didn’t mean he was ready for the knowing spark in Wayne’s eyes.

“Yes,” Eddie said, voice low as he slipped a hand under the table and grabbed Steve’s, “that’s how it is. We were planning on explaining over dinner on Sunday last, but we didn’t get the chance.”

“Did wonder on that invitation, Eddie,” Wayne said with a nod. “You’re not usually nervous about eating.”

Eddie smiled a little at that.

“Happy for you, Son,” Wayne added. “Happy for both of you.”

And Steve remembered to breathe.

~*~

Everyone descended on Steve’s house just before noon the next day. The sun was shining with barely a cloud in the sky and the water in his pool was sparkling blue. It was about as perfect as it could get.

“I’m going to go change,” Steve said after greeting their guests.

Robin and Wayne had come over early to help set up and everything was ready. Robin and Eddie had already switched to their pool lounging clothes, but Steve had been too busy making sure everything was perfect.

“Don’t take too long, Dingus,” Robin called as he dashed into the house, “we need to eat soon.”

He took the stairs two at a time. He had no intention of wasting time. The fact he wanted to see Eddie’s reaction to what he had chosen might have been spurring him on. Stripping down quickly, he lathered on some sunscreen, because he always tanned, but the sun was easily hot enough to burn. He’d already had that battle and won it with Eddie, because otherwise Eddie would end up a lobster.

They might have superior healing, but today was not the day to test it.

The clothes he had chosen were secreted in a drawer. He’d chosen carefully for maximum impact. He pulled on the speedos for later swimming, then a pair of longer shorts over the top, before the main focus of the outfit. The cropped, sleeveless Metallica shirt he had borrowed without asking slipped over his head easily. It came down to just above his navel and showed exactly the right amount of skin.

Grabbing his shades from where he had put them, he popped them on his nose and bounced back downstairs. When he made it back outside, Dustin and Mike were already in the pool while El, Max and Will were sitting on the edge dangling their feet in the water. Lucas was off to the side arguing about something with Erica. Hopper had drifted towards the grill that Wayne was watching, although it wasn’t ready to cook on yet. Jonathan and Argyle had taken up two of the loungers and Nancy, Robin and Joyce were chatting close to them with Murry people watching a few feet away.

The Corroded Coffin guys were with Eddie, chatting about something and watching the kids around the pool.

Everyone looked happy, even Lucas and Erica no matter their bickering, and for a moment Steve completely forgot everything else as he felt a wave of absolute love wash through him. These people had all come through terrible things, some once, some many times, and they were closer to family for him than any related by blood. It was just about perfect.

Then Eddie looked up and all but swallowed his tongue. Which was just the reaction Steve was going for, so then everything was perfect.

“Let’s get this party started,” Steve called out and was met by a cheer.

Over the course of the afternoon there was food, so much food, laughter and games. Even the great wasp attack of 86 where a giant wasp had decided Eddie’s hair was the perfect place to alight for a little rest, only for Eddie to need rescuing by Nancy, had not soured proceedings.

Steve found himself wishing he and Eddie were out to everyone already because he wanted to cosy up with his boyfriend, but that was going to take a little more time.

He and Eddie did quietly give the other three graduates the gifts they had got them together, however. Since they had known Robin, Nancy and Jeff were graduating, unlike Eddie, they had been working on ideas for a while. Steve had had to do all the legwork because Eddie hadn’t been “alive” to the rest of Hawkins for some of it, but they were all both their ideas. Jeff’s gift was a new set of dice in his favourite colours. They had bought them mail order from a magazine. Nancy had a holder for a journal or notebook with a pen that said, “This pen slays monsters” on it.

And Robin, well Robin’s had to be special. They had purchased her a copy of one of her favourite art house movies on VHS that Keith had helped Steve track down, but that wasn’t the main gift. The main gift was a bear, a fluffy brown bear in a homemade rainbow skirt, with a little button that said, “Hello, my name is Dot.” Steve had sewn the skirt through much trial and error, and Eddie had hand painted the button with all his creative flair. When Robin unwrapped it, there may have been a few tears.

End of Chapter 19

Chapter 20

#stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie lives #stranger things #st: whole new us #fanfic #post season 4 #vampires #kind of vampires #hurt/comfort

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two-sides-samecoin · 1 year ago

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On the topic of Nancy cheating, a lot of people direct you to interviews where actors and the Duffers say they broke up earlier so it didn't happen essentially. I just feel like if you have to clarify something in interviews you are either a shitty writer or you hadn't anticipated the reaction you got. Like the Duffers obviously wanted you to root for Jancy they made Steve the one blaming himself because people should love Jancy and s1 Steve wasn't so beloved soo they thought nobody would rally behind him that way. I just think Joe was so charming the Duffers wanted him to be a bad boyfriend but they didn't elaborate enough to make it convincing he was a bad boyfriend. Like the way he looked at Nancy, him wanting to get a stable job so he could provide for her, going to the dinners with the Hollands. He was there for her and I don't like the argument well bc he didn't want her to expose the lab he was surpressing her trauma. We didn't get them as a real couple through their prime we only ever saw end and beginning. And by the end Nancy's grief turned more into guilt and revenge fantasies and that's where Steve and her don't allign. He cared about Barb, he would talk to Nancy about her when they went to go to the dinners, it's not like he ignored the matter. He just wanted to cheer her up and do anything else besides that because he thought it would help. I'm sorry he wasn't a bad bf for not indulging Nancy's revenge fantasies that put everyone in danger. The Duffers should have given Steve more of an asshole role in order for him to be considered a bad bf because his way of coping with trauma should be allowed just like Nancy is allowed to cope in a way.

honestly i don’t care about duffers interviews especially cuz they also just say shit about the first draft and people graze over it so quickly. also like please people cherry pick which of the phrases and ideas that the duffers put out whenever they’re interviewing. remember when everyone got mad that they were going to originally kill of max? like are we pissed at them or are we going to take everything they say with complete and utter fact?!? which is it cuz i’m getting tired of some people picking both. agreed with the jancy thing and about joe. honestly if they wanted jancy to happen they legit could have put in the effort and time for it but they genuinely just don’t. like idk they want you to root for them yet make how they start and how they continue in the relationship sooo bad. like honestly they even more toxic than stancy but people ain’t ready for that opinion.

i hate the whole ‘he was surprezsing her trauma’ argument to cuz like bitch last season we saw the gov go through the end of the earth to make will’s family believe he’s dead HELL PEOPLE MADE A BIG DEAL ABOUT BARB’S DEATH AND THE GOV COVERING THAT UP! we see benny get shot for helping el despite him not knowing shit. honestly i just think it’s because steve is the one who is scared of the gov so they ain’t gonna look deeper into that fear but i trust that if any other character was terrified of the gov it would be 100% justified of how steve reacts. ALSO THEY IN PUBLIC! did we just forget that the gov has everything rigged? like hello?!? FUCKING SAY THAT ABOUT STEVE NOT HAVING TO INDULGE NANCY’S REVENGE FANTASIES!!! THAT LAST FUCKING SENTENCE YES!! also like the way people will go out of their way to be like ‘nancy is a traumatized teen’ well yeah so is fucking steve and the rest of them. also can we please just stop acting like cuz you’re traumatized that means you get to treat people like shit cuz honestly that’s what the argument against nancy seems like to me

#answered asks #thanks :)

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whumptober · 4 years ago

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Whumptober 2020 - Updated

Welcome to Whumptober 2020! We’re doing things a little differently this year so please make sure to read the Event Info carefully. We are also excited to announce the addition of an AO3 Collection, which can be found here.

We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information, and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

No 1. LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY "Pick Who Dies" | Collars | Kidnapped

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

No 6. PLEASE.... "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, please"

No 7. I'VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD "Take Me Instead" | "Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

No 11. PSYCH 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying

No 12. I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor's Guilt

No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU? Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD... Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

Alternate Prompt List

Alt 1. Punctured

Alt 2. Falling

Alt 3. Comfort

Alt 4. Stitches

Alt 5. Stoic Whumpees

Alt 6. Altered States

Alt 7. Found Family

Alt 8. Adverse Reactions

Alt 9. Memory Loss

Alt 10. Nightmares

Alt 11. Presumed Dead

Alt. 12. Water

Alt. 13 Accidents

Alt. 14 Shot

Alt. 15 Carry/Support

Event Info

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 Official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don't have to include the exact wording into your work). Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives. We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, and photo/video/audio edits. Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2020 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruised, #stabbed, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)

#nsfw, #nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober2020 blog. They must be tagged in the order above.

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month.

Questions not addressed below can be directed to this blog as well.

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gif set or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)

Q. Do I have to do all 31 Days? Can I post early/late?

Participate as much or little as you like, and post whenever! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.11, #psych101). Combining prompts into one piece of work is okay, and posting late is as well so as long as it’s in October.

Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help clarify. That said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :)

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)

Q. Can I upload/repost my whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. The archive can be accessed here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If it just conveniently checks the boxes, then please don’t. You can, however, add new chapters answering one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, whoever you like.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only counts once

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day's prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

Yes, but please do not use a specific prompt twice. We have also created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from [here].

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s.?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you :)

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine. The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst focus ok?

Of course!

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What's whump?

See this post

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn't whumpy at all, does that count?

No, sorry, but keep in mind that whump [see definition] is something very nuanced and different for everyone and emotional whump/angst is just as much part of it, as is physical whump and torture. So before you dismiss your idea, think about this.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we posted the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time”.

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. emeto tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the whumptober2020 tag

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, just be sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies of whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, tags are your best friend.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

#eventinfo2020 #whumptober2020 #whumptober #promptlist2020 #prompt list #FAQs #event info

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dalekofchaos · 3 years ago

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My problem with the direction of the LIS comics

I’ve seen the new Arcadia Bay in the comics and I’m conflicted. For context, here are comic spoilers. Even before this, I really had a damn problem with the comics. For erasing Max’s agency, to making her a coward for not dealing with the consequences of her choice to going to a different reality instead of saving our version of Rachel. SO yeah, already not a fan but this seriously pissed me off.

So you could rebuild Arcadia Bay in the comics, but you can’t have Kate or Warren live?

I’m already pissed the child abuser and stalker lived, but Kate still died. But Now the message is, who cares that your favorite characters are dead, we got a rebuilt town!

Max and Chloe revisiting Arcadia Bay after it’s being rebuilt really comes off as tone deaf. Sure, Max’s friends and Chloe’s mom are all dead, but here’s a new Arcadia Bay!

I wish there were more consequences rather than just everything being built back up again. I do really love the diner being renamed after Joyce but imo the ending felt too happy.

What happened to Sean Prescott? Is the prick in jail or not? I know he’s supposedly using his funds to rebuild the town(I hope it leads to the Prescott Foundation going bankrupt)

I don't wanna deprive Max and Chloe of a happy ending but I don't want all those sacrifices to made, literal lives and friends of Max and Chloe to have a small Impact on Max and Chloe.

Also, Arcadia Bay being rebuilt doesn’t make sense given the context of LIS2.

Even when we go to David’s trailer in episode 5, Sean comments “no amount of money could replace what he lost” meaning either the rebuilt Arcadia Bay is not rebuilt or the new town cannot replace what he lost. I’m going with the former since it really doesn’t make any sense.

And they just replace Arcadia Bay. They don’t seem to acknowledge or care about the friends or family who died. They didn't bother to visit the graves of their friends and even Chloe's own mother. It comes across as though they didn't care. Having them visit the graves of their friends and leaving flowers and a few parting words would have been good rather than the fact that Max and Chloe seemingly don't care much about anything but each other. Also if Max spent so much time mastering her power, she couldn't have figured out a way to save Chloe and the town. It's sad especially since Kate and Warren arguably were the best side characters and decent friends to Max. Like if Max had the ability to master her powers, she would’ve made it so she could save the town and Chloe. But she didn’t. It’s almost as if this whole thing was not taken into consideration by the writer. How can you think rebuilding the town, while all the characters that are beloved by the fanbase are dead is a good thing?

I don’t know, it’s just me but I actually feel like there should be consequences for our choice in the game. Seeing the ruins of the town in LIS 2 and Steph and Mikey’s trauma in Wavelengths was a really good touch, but it doesn’t seem like Max and Chloe have any consequences or feel any sense of remorse.

It’s like Square Enix saw the reaction to some fans in the fandom for being upset that we actually got to see the consequences to our choices in Wavelengths and decided to retcon it “don’t worry, you don’t have to feel bad about anything, here’s a happy ending”

Like...completely tone deaf. Having them go back to the town to have it be good and rebuilt comes off as so tone deaf.

And I’ve always felt like the comics were completely one sided and ignored the other ending altogether.

It’s like despite DONTNOD saying both endings are canon, Square Enix are trying to make Save Chloe the canon ending. I really feel like you could’ve told a story about both endings.

One that tells us what happens if you saved Chloe and the other that shows us with what happened if you saved Arcadia Bay.

TLDR version:I feel like what would’ve happened had we got a separate branch of comics that shows us the other ending, it would be Max dealing through her grief and learning not to live in the past and learn to live without Chloe. Max dealing with Chloe’s loss, her grief, but ultimately showing Max living her life and moving on. Show that Max still misses Chloe, but show her living her life. And just show Max living her best life with Warren, Kate, Brooke, Dana, Daniel, Stella and Alyssa. Even show montage of a friendship with Victoria. We just needed to see that despite losing Chloe, Max is okay. Just because Chloe’s gone, doesn’t mean you can't be happy or look back fondly on your time with that person.

Long version:We should’ve gotten to see Max learning to cope with the loss of Chloe. Max would see The Blue Butterfly which would represent Chloe just like Chloe saw the Raven that represented William. Max would dream of Chloe. Chloe throughout these dreams would try to convince Max she has to let go of her guilt and move on with her life but know that she will always be in Max’s heart and that Max has to live for her. This would be the story of Max trying to move on, going through grief, Warren, Kate and the rest of Max’s friends helping Max through this sad period of her life. Warren would be a positive presence for Max, always there for her and a good influence during her grieving period. They’d watch movies together in their dorm rooms and just hangout. Warren’s presence soothes Max’s broken heart and this is why Max slowly falls in love with him. With Kate, Kate is Max’s angel. Like Warren, Kate lifts Max up after the loss of Chloe. Kate would take Max to her church and Kate would allow Alice to love Max up and tea dates just to brighten Max’s days up. Max and Victoria would make peace and Victoria would help her through her grief, which would result in Max and Victoria finally becoming friends. Victoria, Taylor and Courtney would take Max out for shopping, dress Max up and Victoria would help reignite Max’s love for photography and would not let Jefferson ruin her passion. Max and Victoria together would take some killer shots. Victoria would tell Max “when you are a famous photographer, you can put your pictures in my gallery” and it was a deal, Max would focus on becoming a photographer and Victoria would become heir to the Chase Space. Max and Victoria embrace in a hug. Max would confront Nathan in a mental institution. Upon being visited by Max, Nathan would break down in tears and tell her he did not mean to kill Chloe, hurt Kate or hurt Rachel. He didn’t want to hurt anyone and profusely apologize, but he knows he has to live with what he’s done and Max takes it upon herself to forgive Nathan and hug him. This results in a monthly visit where Max and Victoria would visit Nathan, think of this like the fanfic The Sense Of Me for Max and Nathan’s friendship. We could also get a dream of Chloe telling Max that she loves Joyce and that she forgives her and misses her and Max would tell Joyce this and Joyce would break down in tears. As enough time to process the grief and begin healing, Max and Warren go Ape and Max thanks Warren for being there for her during her mourning and Max tells her how much she appreciates Warren and confesses that she loves him and kisses Warren. Time passes and Max would graduate from Blackwell with a promising career in photography on the horizon. It could close on Max, Warren, Kate, Victoria, Joyce and David at the Lighthouse. Chloe’s spirit looking on her family and Max proudly, and Chloe’s spirit finally moves on.

But I don’t think something like that would happen. For two reasons. Reason 1. Max and Chloe sells and is more marketable. They only see profit for only one of the endings, sad but true. Reason 2. I feel like fans would reject this hypothetical comics that shows what would happen in the other ending. The fans have an irrational hatred for Warren and any confirmation of Max being Bisexual and not having a girlfriend would be met with torches and pitchforks. I also feel like there are people in the fandom who don’t think Max would not be able to live without Chloe or won't be truly happy without Chloe and it comes off as Max depending on Chloe for happiness and it's not healthy.

And unfortunately, SQE/D9 and DONTNOD will backpedal and bend over constantly in order to appease the Max and Chloe fans.

And honestly, I don’t think it’s good business sense to pander to one half of your audience, while alienating those who chose to save Arcadia Bay, especially since Save Arcadia Bay has the higher percentage in both of the endings.

I’m just kind of tired of alienating one half of the fandom in order to appease the other. We have two endings and both endings deserve a story that tells us what happened

#Life Is Strange #Max Caulfield #Chloe Price #Warren Graham #Victoria Chase #Nathan Prescott #David Madsen #Joyce Price

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eijispumpkin · 4 years ago

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On Allegory, Imperfection, and Inadvertent Subversion: A small essay about Akimi Yoshida’s Banana Fish and Salinger’s “A Perfect Day For Bananafish”.

In the story of Banana Fish, Yoshida references Salinger’s short story “A Perfect Day For Bananafish” (which henceforth shall be addressed as “Perfect Day” simply for ease of reading) several different ways, both in-universe and out. It is exceedingly evident that the character of Ash Lynx is heavily based on Seymour Glass, and one might surmise that Banana Fish is an allegorical retelling of “Perfect Day”, especially given that in the original story, Ash Lynx dies of what is arguably a “passive suicide” – that is, when faced with an injury that isn’t immediately fatal, he chooses to bleed out rather than seek help, which when framed as a suicide, parallels the much more violent and sudden suicide of Seymour Glass.

However, this surface-level allegorical reading ignores a very important variable in the story of Banana Fish, namely the counterpart to Ash’s Seymour: Eiji’s Sybil. While Ash and Seymour share many similarities (both are traumatized, troubled geniuses with partly-Irish roots who grew up in New York City), the similarities between Eiji and Sybil are very few. Eiji does symbolize a world of innocence to contrast with Ash’s world of horrors, but unlike Sybil, Eiji is an adult with agency of his own, and though he retains some of Sybil’s childlike innocence and is able to connect deeply with Ash as a result of it, Eiji’s agency and decisions ultimately change the narrative and its meaning.

That is to say, by introducing Eiji as an imperfect Sybil, one who has agency and can actually provide Ash with understanding and support of the kind that Seymour never got from Muriel or others around him (and which Sybil, being three years old, was in no way equipped to provide), Banana Fish directly subverts “Perfect Day”’s original message of cynicism in the face of a material world unconcerned with the horror of lost innocence and its resulting isolation.

To understand what this means, it’s important to first understand the meaning and context of “Perfect Day” and the circumstances in which it was written. “Perfect Day” is a story written first and foremost as a critique of American materialism in the wake of WWII; Salinger echoes the concerns of the Lost Generation before him, in a way, by really driving home the alienation from modern adult life felt by those who were exposed to the horrors and traumas of the battlefields in wartorn Europe, only to return home and find a culture completely removed from it all. Seymour Glass is a stand-in for Salinger himself—Kenneth Slawenski, in his 2010 biography of Salinger, notes that on returning from the European theater, Salinger “found it impossible to fit into a society that ignored the truth that he now knew.”

If that sounds familiar, good, because it should! This is precisely the motif of “Perfect Day” (as well as some of Salinger’s other work featuring members of the Glass family, such as Seymour’s younger brother Buddy, which, as an aside, is a name that might stick out to Banana Fish fans. Whether this is an intentional reference or a coincidence, I can’t say for certain, but given the depth of other references within this allegory, I’m inclined to think it’s intentional).

As a quick summary for those who may need a refresher, “Perfect Day” is a story about a deeply traumatized man who feels isolated from the rest of society because of the weight of the horrors he has been exposed to. Muriel Glass, Seymour’s wife, is the epitome of this: she represents the materialistic culture that Seymour feels so alienated from, always talking about brand-name things and luxuries and upward mobility. Seymour rejects her company in favor of playing the piano for children and spending time on the beach, where he tells three-year-old Sybil Carpenter a story about bananafish, fish that gorge themselves on bananas in holes under the sea until they’re too fat to escape the entrances to these little banana dens, and then they die. Instead of dismissing this story as something bizarre, Sybil claims she sees a bananafish in the water, which endears her to Seymour, until she leaves, at which point he returns to his hotel room and shoots himself in the head.

In “Perfect Day”, this interaction (between Sybil and Seymour) is the center of a set of dualities. Sybil represents the state of childlike innocence that Seymour longs to return to, and because of her innocence, she can “understand” him in ways that the material adults like her mother or Muriel do not. Seymour’s isolation is a product of his society and the lack of support and understanding for traumatized veterans returning from war, and it shows in the way that adults his age cannot connect with him, and he cannot connect with them. This disconnect between worlds is what eventually results in Seymour’s suicide—he can fit neither in the world in which he wishes to be, nor in the one in which he must reside, and it ends in his death.

The question is, then, how does this relate to Banana Fish?

As mentioned previously, Ash Lynx is a very clear parallel to Seymour Glass. He’s a young man faced with immeasurable trauma from which he believes he can never recover, and there is a clear motif of duality in his entire character arc: his world (one of violence and trauma) versus the “normal” world (where innocent people who have “regular” lives may reside). Like Seymour, Ash feels trapped in a world he can’t escape, knowing “the truth” that he knows, about the horrors that people are capable of.

It follows, then, that Eiji Okumura is a parallel to Sybil Carpenter, who represents childlike innocence and a world that Ash longs to be part of but can’t reach. And to an extent, this is true: Eiji is sheltered and innocent, comparing real-life to TV shows and being completely unexposed to kidnappings, drugs, guns, and violence. However, there is a sharp contrast between Eiji and Sybil, one that fundamentally changes the relationship between Eiji and Ash and makes it radically different from that between Sybil and Seymour:

Eiji is an adult, and as such, he has agency of his own.

Unlike Sybil with Seymour, Eiji can make his own choices and face Ash as an equal. Where Sybil is a child who runs back to her mother after playing with Seymour at the beach, Eiji actively and consistently chooses to stay with Ash, over and over. He even explicitly tells Ash “you are not alone”, which is a huge and direct contrast to the message of inevitable, devastating isolation from “Perfect Day”. Whereas Sybil’s innocence serves as a reminder to Seymour of what he’s lost and cannot regain, Eiji’s innocence is a beacon of comfort and companionship to Ash. Eiji is someone with whom Ash can relax and be playful like a boy his own age, as noted by Max and Ibe watching them interact.

This communication and connection are present between Sybil and Seymour, but in a very different way. Seymour prefers to play make-believe and tell silly stories to kids, because he went from being a wide-eyed innocent to being traumatized and longing for a place to belong, and Sybil as a child represents what he wishes he had, while the adults around him (most notably Muriel, his wife) are a world he doesn’t understand that feels false.

This is not the dichotomy of worlds that Ash faces. Ash faces a world of trauma and suffering that he sees himself as trapped in, and a world of peace and security that he thinks is beyond his reach. Where Seymour yearns for a return to innocence, Ash yearns to escape his pain, and the combination of this subtle difference with the effect of Eiji’s agency and the narrative structure of Banana Fish results in a subversion of the themes in “Perfect Day”.

Banana Fish is a long-form narrative, while “Perfect Day” is a short story. Part of the inherent structure of a long-form narrative is character growth and development, which for obvious reasons is much less prominent in short stories. As a result, Eiji’s impact on Ash is clearly visible over the course of the narrative, and it becomes impossible to declare that Ash is firmly rooted in the world he sees himself as trapped in. By the end of the story, even Ash wavers on this assertion; although he ultimately succumbs to suicide, a narrative choice that been criticized ever since its publication, in the moments leading up to his stabbing, he does believe that Eiji is right, or at least right enough that he wants to see him one last time (this is ambiguous and open to interpretation, of course).

Why did this narrative choice spark so much controversy and outcry from fans? Not every story that ends in tragedy is criticized as poorly written for it; examples range from Shakespearean tragedies to “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story”, a film in which the entire cast dies in the climax. Yet just about all fans agree that it fit the narrative. Clearly, then, it is possible to craft a story that ends in death and tragedy but still feels well-written. What makes Banana Fish different?

I would argue that the answer lies in this imperfect allegory. By creating a Sybil-esque character that can interact with the Seymour-esque character as equals, can stay with him, and can listen to him and support him through his grief and pain, Akimi Yoshida inadvertently turned “Perfect Day”’s message on its head. The tragedy of “Perfect Day” is Seymour’s isolation. By giving Ash a warm, compassionate relationship in which he is assured over and over that he is not alone, Yoshida upturns this entirely.

Ash is led to believe in this dichotomy mostly by his isolation. He believes that since Eiji is in mortal danger as a result of being special to him, he needs to send Eiji to safety, i.e. somewhere far from him and far from the reach of those who would hurt them both. This isn’t a miscommunication issue or anything of the sort; this is Ash being afraid for Eiji’s life; Eiji isn’t averse to returning to Japan itself. Eiji is averse to returning to Japan without Ash, as he mentions when he talks about how Ash could be a model, and tells him about kami. In establishing this as a consistent tenet of Eiji’s character, Yoshida ensures that Ash is not isolated in the same way that Seymour was.

In addition, Eiji can move freely between both worlds set up in Ash’s perceived dichotomy, a motif made explicitly clear when Eiji leaps the wall to freedom and light at the beginning, leaving Ash (and Skipper) behind in captivity in the dark. Despite this escape from the world of violence and crime, Eiji returns of his own volition and stays with Ash, experiences his own fair share of horrific traumas, and still leaves in the end to return to his world. This makes it clear that the dichotomy is less stark than Ash is led to believe, unlike the repeated validation of his isolation that Seymour receives, and is another reason that the ending of “Perfect Day” is inconsistent with the ending of Banana Fish

A quick sidebar: Banana Fish has no real Muriel, but if pressed, I would posit that the closest parallel to Muriel that exists is Blanca, whose main purpose in the narrative seems to be to reinforce to Ash that he can’t escape the world he feels trapped in and longs to leave. But where in “Perfect Day” Muriel symbolized the materialism of American society after WWII, Blanca has no real established reason to be so invested in keeping Ash down, and in conjunction with the fact that despite his own traumas, he can retire peacefully to the Caribbean, his role in the story falls to pieces entirely. Where Muriel represented a lifestyle that Seymour fundamentally could not reach, thereby reinforcing his isolation, Blanca is supposed to parallel Ash to a degree, but his words to Ash do not match his actions whatsoever.

Therefore, if anything, Blanca’s assertions serve only to strike a contrast with Eiji’s (and Max’s, to an extent, since Max and Eiji both agree that Ash can escape this and they want him to heal). Moreover, Blanca’s relationship with Ash is that of a mentor and a student, a relationship that is shown to be fundamentally unhealthy, given that Blanca willingly worked for Ash’s abuser, a mafia don who he knew trafficked children. Some argue that Blanca was blackmailed into this service, but given that Blanca chose to betray Golzine at the end and work with Ash with seemingly no real provocation or change in his relationship with Golzine, this supposition seems flawed. Blanca’s assertions about Ash and his ability to forge bonds and leave his world the way Eiji does, and indeed the way Blanca himself does, are simply incorrect, and the narrative itself provides us all the tools we need to realize that Blanca is wrong, even without the extended context of a parallel to Muriel Glass.

Returning to the main issue at hand, i.e. that of the imperfect allegorical connections between Sybil and Eiji, and the dichotomy between worlds that Ash perceives, it’s clear that in creating a positive, nurturing relationship between Ash and Eiji rather than a one-off encounter, Yoshida inadvertently created a story about connections rather than isolation. Ash’s attempts to keep Eiji safe from harm by sending him home are countered by Eiji’s assertion that he only wants to go to Japan if Ash comes with him, which is a kind of selfless devotion that reaches through Ash’s isolation until he decides that he won’t try and separate himself from Eiji anymore, which is a massive blow to the dichotomy of his supposed two worlds. This is the narrative acknowledging that both worlds can coexist.

Not only this, but also Eiji, who has his own trauma—he’s kidnapped several times, shot at, drugged, sexually assaulted, attacked with a knife by a drugged friend, exposed to several deaths, shot at people in fights himself, and ultimately nearly killed by a gunshot wound—despite all of this, Eiji is still allowed to exist in the world of peace and regularity. Eiji’s innocence is sharply tempered by traumatic experiences, and he can still walk between worlds. If Eiji, Max, Ibe, Jessica, Sing, Cain, and Blanca can all experience traumas, why is Ash the only one who cannot escape? Is there some kind of magical bar of “too much” trauma, like an event horizon on a black hole?

Obviously, no.

So it comes to this: Essentially, the reason that the ending is so controversial, and why I personally believe that the open ending of the anime is an improvement to the original story, is that the allegory between Banana Fish and “Perfect Day” falls apart because of Eiji’s agency. Ash wants to protect Eiji, and to protect Eiji’s innocence and light, because he feels that it’s beyond his own reach, but Eiji forges a bond with him that is rooted in mutual respect and care, and in doing so, undoes the devastating, painful isolation that led to Seymour’s suicide. This is why Ash’s death can feel so hollow—it doesn’t follow the pattern of “Perfect Day”; after the entire story is about Ash’s bonds and those who love him unconditionally, it feels almost like a shock-value plot twist tacked on, rather than a tragic inevitability.

I don’t believe that Yoshida intended Banana Fish to be a subversion of “Perfect Day”. I believe she meant it as a one-to-one allegory, and this is why she kept the ending as Ash choosing death. However, due to the changes in themes because of the characters and their relationships, Ash is not isolated in the profound way Seymour was, and his death is therefore not nearly as impactful.

#this is 2600 words i am so fucking sorry but also im not sorry im just verbose #banana fish #banana fish meta #asheiji #ash lynx #eiji okumura

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

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Catch me immediately sneaking out of Medbay via vents and paying the brig a visit.

On one hand this idea is hilarious. You're bandaged in the medical bay, on bed rest for the sake of your broken body, but find yourself snapping back to consciousness in the dim stillness of the ship's artificial light. The medical bay is still, you're the only one awake and alert in the entire area, and there's no stimulus to explain your sudden wakefulness. Everything is silent, as if all noise has been eliminated in your vicinity by something more otherworldly than the medics trying to get you better.

Only your senses working in tandem allow you to understand why you are awake, and what you must do next, for the sake of universal balance. You can sense the ongoing injustice like a dog senses a tsunami. Pain matters little as you force your bruised body to act, hopping into the vents and limping at full speed to the source of the disturbance.

A bot is sad, and you refuse to let this crime against existence continue a moment longer, even if said bot is the reason you're as injured as you are now. God as your witness, he will be comforted, and you'd like to see anyone try to stop you. Fort Max is going to get a hug, and you're gonna give it to him, and then you'll get rest. But only then.

Cue your little body swan diving from the vent above Max for a tactical embrace that hits like a well aimed missile.

On the other hand this idea could be heartwarming and also tearjerking.

With all the advanced technology available to the medical staff, your life threatening injuries were stabilized in minutes, though there's still ample pain and a sizable road to recovery ahead. All present medics agree you should rest for a few days after your... "ordeal", to regain your strength before any visitors are allowed. In response to your requests to at least communicate with Fort Max, you're gently told that he can't receive prisoners or messages in the brig after his actions, especially from those who were most grievously injured by said actions. It's difficult to argue them as you are, and with Rung lying motionless on his own recovery slab, his head gone and his thumb still unattached...

But you know the big mech is hurting. Of course you're also in some considerable physical distress yourself, but unlike you, Max doesn't have anyone there for his pain. That bothers you even after everything he's put you through.

Maybe it's so easy to forgive because it all seems as unreal now as it did then. He'd burst in just as you were preparing to leave so Rung could have his session with a surprisingly early Whirl, and while you'd freely admit to having been terrified, the agony in his optics had made it clear he wasn't acting out of anything but trauma. The bot you'd befriended had obviously not been in a good place, his aura giving the sense of anything but a gentle giant whilst he tried to demand what his tormented mind thought would make the pain finally stop. You'd known he was acting from fear just as well as your fellow hostages, despite being far less experienced in the area than they. Perhaps it was because of their survivalist knowledge that it was just you who'd been caught off guard, as you hadn't known just how badly afflicted Max was until your tiny body had ended up in his trembling fist, your breaths coming in so shallow you couldn't even cry for help...

Residual fear made you shudder on the slab, but instead of deterring you, the resulting pain only made you want to act.

Being a human had a number of advantages on a ship designed for giants, and the first was that no one had bothered to secure anything against a being of your size. The hardest part of escaping the medbay was simply getting up and finding the least painful way to walk, which admittedly was far from easy with your multitude of healing ribs. Ratchet would be furious if he knew what you were doing... Come to think of it, he would probably be as angry as could possibly be once he inevitably figured out you'd been out of bed at all, so all things considered there was no point in trying to go back now. That realization was surprisingly freeing.

The vents were your obvious solution even before you laid eyes on the opening and recalled their network ran the length of the entire ship.

How ironic was it, that you'd been instructed to use these in the event of an emergency, and your first time doing so was to defy orders? If this little stunt of yours succeeded and word got out, some of the crew would probably be proud of you. The rest would vary between fury and shock at such an unexpected move from their little human.

With your all in one communication tool, map, remote control and social media device of a wristband you have no trouble plotting a route. The only trouble will be getting there in your current state, completely without detection, and then making it back with equal levels of success. Only your stubborn refusal to leave a bot suffering stops you from giving up as soon as you see the distance ahead of you. Thankfully quick thinking and planning gets you some shortcuts, namely by ducking into hallways and grabbing mercifully empty elevators, but the journey is still a long and painful one. That time unfortunately gives you ample opportunity to think about what you'll say, which leads to you recalling exactly what needs to be forgiven, and that replays a number of horrifyingly fresh memories each time.

Pressure like you'd never experienced had threatened to crush your body as those powerful digits had closed in, only stopping when a number of your bones collapsed under the strain with reverberating cracks as they broke, an experience so painful you could still see the stars it had sent bursting before your eyes. Everything afterwards had been a chaotic blur, save for an expression of horrified guilt on a familiar face and the grainy footage of Overlord beaming whilst committing his trademark butchering, then darkness as large hands had carried you to safety...

Wiping sweat from your brow, you resist the painful urge to cough as you close in on the brig, knowing that a few of the prisoners will be dangerous enough that caution will be required. It's hard not to be afraid of the very idea of being grabbed once again, but that fiery determination keeps you moving through all the pain and exhaustion and admittedly logical fear. Focusing on Max as you knew him was your primary source of strength as you moved into the much smaller vents that ran through the cells. While still roomy enough for a human, they were impossible for a bot to fit through, likely to prevent escape attempts. Hopefully that would make getting through much safer for you.

Thin slots in the airways became your windows of guidance, due to the map being more than a little vague about navigating the brig. It was mostly as big as it was to ensure each cell had ample room for its occupant, a standard right for Autobot prisoners of war you were delighted to see but found none too simple to traverse. Darkness you didn't dare illuminate also complicated your mission. Quick glances outside of your little vents revealed glowing biolights and occasional flashes of optics you didn't recognize, and while you were fairly confident you could identify Max even in the dark, you were hardly eager to do so.

Luck gave you a rare break not too far into your little spying operation, one that couldn't have come too soon with exhaustion weighing you down and aches growing ever harder to ignore in your bandaged body.

Though he was larger than any other prisoner, you recognized Max by something completely unrelated to his appearance, and it immediately made you certain your decision to come down had been the right one. There was a kind of weariness to the hulking body seated on the floor of the cell, even though they were obviously awake, as if gravity was being artificially strengthened only for them. Upon a closer look you realized there was more than just fatigue dragging the occupant down; their entire being radiated such unimaginable grief it all but choked the air around them, making you wobble as if teetering on the edge of a bottomless well. Your heart threatened to shatter at the sight of a being enduring so much suffering. Hesitation of any kind evaporated in the face of your revitalized determination to console the mech who'd endured so much, as you refused to let this go on a moment longer.

"Max? In the vents, above you, it's Y/N."

In an underwhelming touch of irony your injuries actually made hushing yourself rather easy. Max slowly roused from his fog with every word you spoke, looking back and forth before casting his optics upwards and becoming aware enough to be shocked by what he saw. His expression was like a bot beholding a ghost.

"Y/N?! You're alive?"

The exclamation makes you sad and angry at the same time; really, no one had even given him that basic piece of mind? Sure there'd been a great deal of chaos, but letting him know he hadn't murdered you seemed rather routine, even after everything he'd done.

"It's okay, big guy. I'm okay." You assured, not realizing it wasn't quite true until the pain of simply existing with your injuries hit again. Hiding a wince, you grabbed at the corners of the vent as he continued to gape, easily sliding your hands into the crevices built to keep out much larger servos. "Hold on, I know these can open from the inside..."

"I don't understand..." He said, watching you like one might watch a dream unfold, standing and raising his cupped servos to catch you as the vent swung open. Perhaps the exhaustion was making you delirious, but there was no fear as you dropped the short distance into his waiting palms, despite what had happened the last time you'd been in his grasp. Perhaps the look of restrained hope in his optics put you at ease, as he didn't yet appear willing to believe this was real. Holding you like a blessing dropped by Primus himself, the giant mech sat down on the berth pushed against the wall, unable to stand under the weight of everything seeing you was making him feel.

"I thought... I was so sure I'd... You weren't even moving." He said softly, looking away as if he didn't deserve to see you alive after what he'd done. Perhaps you just had the softest heart in the universe, but such guilt in a truly gentle giant hurt more than any of your actual injuries. It was so easy to see the full scope of his trauma in the aftermath of everything, and how he obviously had been so far out of his usual self in the fog of pain and fear he'd been unable to stifle a moment longer... You wanted to help him so badly.

"I was hurt, but I'm alive. I'm going to be just fine." You assured, words halting just a bit when you included the "going" for the sake of accuracy. Currently you had a load of internal supports holding broken bones together, but with human medicine you'd have been immobile in a brace and multiple casts, probably for weeks. Even your forgiveness couldn't simply make that all go away.

"I'm... I don't know what to say." Came his reply after a long silence, his optics finally rising to meet your eyes. Though you hadn't been amongst Cybertronians for too long, you knew straight away that he'd been crying, as the tell tale dimness of his optics and slight discoloration of the mesh around them were unmistakable. Seeing that broke your heart more as you settled into his palm. Finding his voice again, he tried and failed to manage a bitter smile, the weight of his guilt making it impossible to attempt such an expression. "A little "sorry" feels pretty pathetic right about now."

Holding back the urge to cry, as well as the urge to lie down as adrenaline failed you and exhaustion started creeping in, you tried to offer encouragement. "It's okay, Max. I know you're sorry-"

"I'm so much more than sorry, Y/N."

The interruption wasn't at all firm, but it still stopped you with its unexpected weight.

"I'm... I'm so ashamed... I took a vow to protect all life, especially organic life, and I nearly killed you just to send a message. You've been nothing but nice since I got here, and this is how I pay that back? Nothing that... that happened to me could make that okay. You didn't deserve any of this, and neither did... neither did Rung..." Fading off with a crack in his voice, he let the tears fall without a care, not even letting out a sob as they pattered onto his armored chest. "But because I can't do much else, I'm sorry. To you, to everyone, for everything... I hope that helps you a bit."

Sniffling and unable to stop yourself, you wondered how proud Rung would be of the big bot if he could see him now, and you had to emphasize to yourself that one day you were going to get a chance to tell him.

"It does, but I'm not mad, okay?" You said as you tried and failed to scoot closer, realizing that you were unable to move much at all from the pain and weariness of the injuries you'd unsettled by trekking here. Paying it little mind, you looked up into those big optics and tried to convey as much forgiveness and encouragement as physically possible. "I don't know everything, but after enduring what you did... Max, I'm just so glad you're here. We're all gonna be okay; you, me, and Ratchet says Rung will be too so long as we all put the work in. That's probably true for all of us, we just need to focus on getting better. I'll be taking care of myself, and I'll be here for you every step of the way."

"Heh, are all humans this forgiving?" He said, actually managing the tiniest hint of a smile as he spoke. "I... I don't... It's going to be a lot of work, but I'll try for you. For now I do need to stay down here though, what I did... I can't just walk. You know that, right?"

Though you were aware that things could never be so simple, you were still sad as you nodded. It seemed the truly evil bots of the galaxy were quite content to keep letting others endure the fallout of their cruelty while never facing any consequences themselves... Had Overlord ever been truly punished for all the torment he'd caused? You were entering a bit of a fog at the thought when a loud commotion at the entrance to the brig got your attention as well as Maximus's.

"-cannot BELIEVE this. I always thought they were at least somewhat responsible, but they're giving your most brainless stunts a challenge!"

Ratchet's very identifiable and very angry tone carried right to the cell you two were seated inside. Max actually gave you a full on smile in his cupped palms, something like a long forgotten feeling of mischievous delight twinkling in the back of his brightening optics.

"Guess you've been found out, eh jailbreaker?"

You'd have laughed if not for the pain and the sound of Rodimus closing in with a not at all reserved yawn of exhaustion.

"Relax, Ratchet, it's too early to be yelling... Besides the scanner says they're fine and right... here."

The two mechs appeared beyond the bars in the darkened brig, and while neither looked especially happy, one was far more actively angry than the other. Somehow you weren't intimidated in the slightest to be caught. Perhaps it was because you were completely fine going back to bed, not to mention that there weren't a whole lot of punishments the bots could really give you, but most likely you were just glad to have accomplished everything you came down here for. Well, everything but one...

"Fortress Maximus, if you would... just hand over Y/N... I need to get them back to the medical bay." Ratchet said firmly, caution evident in every syllable. Unnecessary as it may have been, Max didn't seem to take offense, likely because the medic had saved his own life after Whirl had put him down. Standing slowly from the berth, he approached the cell door with you held carefully in his servos. It was at that moment you realized the big bot was actually cuffed at the wrists. The sight combined with the fact that he'd be all alone after you left made you remember one more thing that needed to be done, which you recalled just as you were about to be handed over.

"Hold on, just let me..." In a hurry, you stood up on the bots palm and forced your legs to cooperate, hobbling the short distance to his chest that he held you so close to and throwing your arms open wide for a clumsy but genuine embrace. Barely able to talk between everything going on inside of your broken body and beyond, you croaked out a final bit of encouragement, looking up as you plopped down and were quickly but gently snatched up by the waiting medic. "See you later, Max. I promise."

"See you soon, Y/N."

#transformers #maccadam #idw #more than meets the eye #mtmte #lost light #tf #fort max #fortress maximus #human reader #self insert #my writing #my asks #requests

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edgelord-dl6 · 3 years ago

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🔥

ACE ATTORNEY: JUSTICE FOR ALL IS SERIOUSLY UNDERRATED. it’s my favorite in the series. shu takumi wrote it drunk. aa2 is better than aa3. aa2 is the perfect sequel to aa1, which is the perfect game. aa2 has literally no filler episodes - each one serves a narrative purpose and shares a theme with the main narrative and features a dead or missing sibling ( except the intro case but i’ll forgive that cuz it’s THE PERFECT intro case it is so off the wall bizonkers ). aa2 features franziska motherfucking von karma. aa2 features the DRAMATIC RETURN of miles edgeworth. aa2 has the best secret sprite reveal i have ever seen.

“but drippy!!” i hear the masses howl from below, “what about turnabout big top?!”

🔥“you fools” i answer, “i LOVE turnabout big top.”🔥

turnabout big top aka maybe the most maligned and misunderstood turnabout in all of ace attorney not only reveals that franziska is seeking revenge not for her father, but for MILES - it also reckons with dead fathers, and dead brothers, and the remaining sibling dealing with the fury and shame of attempting revenge. not only that - god, i really love this case - the whole point of this chapter is to break a grieving family out of an awful dream they’ve trapped themselves in. these people are going through the motions after a horrific trauma - a death in the family - pretending everything’s okay, validating each others’ unrealty -- much like phoenix refuses to deal with miles’ apparent suicide, which is only brought to light through franziska’s insistence, and franziska’s completely wild acting out. the themes of grief, of willful ignorance masked by routine of comedy, continue through to the end of the game where miles not only asks phoenix what the hell he’s doing ( WHY are you a defense attorney?! who are you doing this for? are you after truth? or are you just going through the motions?? ) but also demands the same of franziska, who is just as lost.

moe is a great fucking character. like, i implore you to replay aa2 as an adult and see how it resonates.

PS yeah of course max galactica and ben quist are gross and regina is underage, etc. it’s supposed to be weird, and gross, and inappropriate - phoenix comments over and over on how this circus is fucking cringe and weird. he’s aware. we’re supposed to be aware that it’s sick and fake. note that moe - a father figure - recognizes what phoenix is doing and forces the rest of his coworkers to confront reality and stop putting their horrible adult feelings on a child, but also forces regina to understand the weight of her own actions. but he can’t do it without help he was really just trying to hold it together and needed that outsider intervention from someone who saw the horror for what it was. it’s heartbreaking and reads like a novel. it’s so good.

#|☛ out of office ♞ ooc |#|☛ answers ♞ filed |#cuttingcanine #|| LOL i realized i'd been sitting on this one for a while #|| the world has to know my most controversial opinion #|| this is a mess cuz i'm rambling but god i love aa2 so much

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myheartrevealedocs · 4 years ago

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Untouchable- Ch 1: Jenna Borge

Summary: A Spencer Reid x OC fanfic that retells select episodes, starting in season 1, from the point of view of Lydia Ambers, a forensic scientist.

Warnings: swearing, murder

Ch 2 | About Lydia

~ ~ ~

Waking up in a hospital was not Lydia’s idea of a good time.

Not as a broke college student. And especially not when she had no recollection of injuring herself. In fact, she couldn’t even remember falling asleep. It was like she had blinked and found herself horizontal… Not great.

She tried to pull herself together enough to figure out what was wrong. Other than her head being fuzzy, she couldn’t seem to find any injuries on herself. Perhaps she’d passed out? But if that were the case, Jenna would have given her some water and put her to bed. What would warrant a trip to the hospital?

“Lydia Ambers?” A woman asked, pulling her attention to the door. “My name is Detective Richards. I have a few questions for you.”

Oh shit…

~ ~ ~

“Last night, in Santa Cruz, California, college student Jenna Borge was stabbed multiple times in her dorm room. Her roommate, Lydia Ambers, was sedated with antipsychotics, but otherwise unharmed.”

“So, it’s personal,” Morgan inferred.

“You would think that,” JJ agreed. “Only, this doesn’t look to be his first kill. Two months ago, a recent graduate from UC Santa Cruz, Elizabeth Chang, was stabbed and killed while walking home from work. Six months before that, Lucy Max was found in an alleyway. The first two girls were assumed to have been victims of muggings, but now with Jenna’s death, the Santa Cruz PD are thinking it’s a serial killer.”

“Any connection between the victims?” Elle asked, but JJ shook her head.

“Nothing but age and gender. These girls were of different races, social standings, and Lucy was a college student at a different school than Elizabeth and Jenna. It’s highly unlikely that these girls have any friends in common.”

“Why leave the roommate alive then?” It was Reid this time, looking through the information on his file. “If our unsub has no preference for the girls he picks, why not kill her too? And the fact that he had the tranquilizer handy means he knew she would be there and had planned ahead of time not to kill her.”

“So, our unsub has some sort of connection with these girls. He’s killing these girls for a reason. The question is, what reason?” Gideon finished, standing up to leave. “Let’s go to California.”

~ ~ ~

“I need you to tell me everything you remember,” Detective Richards said, sitting beside Lydia’s bed.

“What’s going on?” Lydia demanded. “Why am I here?”

“I really need to know what you know before I tell you anything,” the woman explained, unhelpfully.

“I don’t know anything! I swear, the last thing I remember was studying in my room.”

“Was your roommate there?”

Lydia huffed. She didn’t get it. Something was going on, something bad, likely having to do with the fact that she ended up in a hospital with no apparent injuries. And the only person who knew was being passive and dodging her questions.

The last time she’d had to deal with the police like this, they’d been as blunt as a hammer. Sixteen-year-old Lydia had no clue what was coming and they swept the rug out from underneath her. She had felt like she was drowning, being asked a thousand questions before their words could sink in.

Somehow, Detective Richards was worse.

“Yes. My roommate was trying to sleep.”

“And was there anyone else in the room with you?”

Lydia did all she could to keep from scratching her own eyes out. “No.”

“Are you sure? This is vital information, Miss Ambers. We need to know everyone who came in and out of your room yesterday.”

“I’m not lying,” she insisted. “Only Jenna and I were in our room. Now please, tell me what happened!”

The detective hesitated a moment. Lydia’s heart leapt into her throat, the suspense finally catching up to her. Perhaps a realization, too. For some reason, she could see where this was going.

“Last night, someone came into your room and murdered your roommate, Jenna Borge.”

The denial struck first. “That doesn’t make any sense. Jenna was right next to me. I would’ve… No one was there but us.”

“You two were found by a classmate of Jenna’s. She thought you both were dead, but when the police arrived on scene, they realized that you had been knocked out, but were still breathing. The doctor can talk to you about that more than I can. Whoever killed your roommate drugged you first, to stop you from doing anything.”

And then, as always… the anger.

“Leave.”

~ ~ ~

Jenna was gone. Really gone. Lydia had tried calling her phone multiple times, but stopped herself when she realized that listening to Jenna’s voice was only fueling her anger.

It felt as if storms raged in Lydia’s stomach. If the universe was really out to get her, why did it never come for her directly?

She shed her tears quickly that night, knowing that her hospital room might be the only place for her to safely do so. Once she left, she couldn’t disappear. People would want to talk to her about it. She’d have to go back to class. And there really wasn’t any way of processing something like this except moving on.

“Drink a lot of water,” the nurse explained to Lydia, as she escorted her out of the hospital the next morning. “You’ll likely be lethargic for the next few days, so go easy on yourself. Take a day off or ask your teachers to be gentle with your workload.”

“Thank you,” she responded, shortly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Lydia Ambers?”

Lydia groaned. Another cop? Really?

The man who had called to her stood in the waiting room of the hospital. He pulled out a badge, though he was still too far away for her to see. His partner, a far younger, taller man, was raking his eyes over her, as if looking for something.

Lydia left her escort and walked over to the two of them, arms crossed over her chest. “Yes?”

“My name is Agent Gideon, this is Dr. Reid. We’re from the FBI.”

She raised an eyebrow, not intending to be challenging, but she couldn’t help it. Lydia had never been great at calming herself down, despite all the opportunities to practice. “Whoopie for you. I explained to Detective Richards what happened that night. I honestly don’t remember anything. If you’re here to take me in as a suspect, go ahead, but if not, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

“Miss Ambers, we work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We’re not questioning you as a suspect, but we believe the man who attacked your roommate might have known her before he killed her. You might have known him as well. Do you think you could come back to the station with us and sit through a few more questions?”

No, I can’t. The emotional strength it takes to pretend like I’m okay is too much for me. Another hour of questioning and I guarantee my head will explode, I’ll vomit what little is left in my stomach and then my own intestines, and I’ll assault a police officer… In that order.

“Don’t call me Miss Ambers,” she insisted, ignoring the violent monologue replaying in her head. “Lydia is fine. But yes, I’ll come along.”

Agent Gideon nodded and Lydia could see an understanding in his eyes. But she pushed it aside as simply his experience in dealing with grieving strangers.

He led her and Dr. Reid out of the hospital and to a black SUV. As they walked, Dr. Reid fell slightly behind Lydia, which she knew couldn’t be an accident considering his insanely long legs. And even if she didn’t know that, his gaze was burning holes into her side.

“Are you sure I’m not a suspect?”

“Do you think you should be?” Agent Gideon asked.

“No, but Dr. Reid here is staring at me like I might pull a gun on him any minute.”

The guy looked startled that she had even acknowledged him, glancing at Gideon like he needed permission to speak to her. “Um, I was trying to identify the source of your limp. Your hip and knee don’t jerk when you walk and you seem to be able to extend them fully, but you clearly favor your left leg.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. Normally the question was phrased as ‘What’s wrong with your leg?’ She had to admit, she appreciated his forwardness about staring, but it didn’t make her want to answer any more.

“Well, don’t worry Dr. Reid. My medical records will reflect the fact that I have had this for 5 years and it doesn’t affect the case. Thank you for the concern, though.” And with that, she slid into the backseat and shut the door.

He looked at Gideon, confused. “I wasn’t asking because I’m-”

“That means don’t talk about it, Reid,” Gideon told him, before he also got into the car and turned on the engine.

~ ~ ~

“How long had you known Jenna?” Gideon started, having Lydia sit down in an empty room in the station. Reid continued his hovering in the back, completely silent.

“Since we were freshmen… We were going to graduate together next month.”

Saying those words aloud was harder for Lydia than she thought. Her nose started to burn, a sign that tears were on the way, but she set her face with a look of determination. Jenna wasn’t going to graduate. That was a fact now. She couldn’t do anything about that.

“Are you alright, Mi- Lydia?”

She scoffed. “I’m sorry?” she asked, thrown completely off guard. “Should I be?? My friend was just…” The words died in her throat.

“I’m sorry.” Agent Gideon’s tone was completely sincere, but he continued mercilessly. “You’re not displaying some of the typical signs of grief-”

She laughed, dryly. “You analyze behavior and you don’t know that people handle their grief differently?”

“Of course I do. And yours indicates guilt. Perhaps some past trauma you’re trying to repress-”

“You said I wasn’t a suspect-”

“And you’re not-”

“Then stop profiling me!” She smashed her fist against the table and the sudden sting against her hand brought her back to reality. Don’t make this harder. Getting angry at the police only made both sides more frustrated, it wouldn’t compel anyone to find out who did this faster. She gritted her teeth to continue. “Yes, I feel guilty. I let someone sedate me and kill my roommate. And I just don’t understand why he didn’t kill me! Everything else: my anger issues, my past, my fucking leg, it doesn’t pertain to this case. So, please, just let me be.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve upset you.”

That was a shift from what she was used to. When she was younger, it was always the same routine. She’d lash out and the rest of the world would send her away until she calmed down. And she knew that it was her fault. That they didn’t deserve her rage. But she never realized how nice it might be to have someone stop her then and there. And take the blame away from her fury, if only for a moment.

“You didn’t upset me. Agent Gideon, I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse characters than me… at least I hope you have. Just know that I’m doing my best… if there was more to say, I would have told you. If it was going to help, I’d tell you every detail of my past, but it isn’t.”

He seemed to agree with that. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

“Now then… what else do you want to know?”

~ ~ ~

“Notice anything?” Gideon inquired as the two of them left Lydia, exiting the room she was held in and joining the team in a separate part of the station.

“Yeah? She’s like a walking contradiction. She claims anger issues, but she shows no signs of stress. She makes snappy remarks, but physically she seemed anxious, not angry. Her face is relaxed and her shoulders hold all her tension, not her hands or jaw.”

Gideon nodded, listening closely to the boy’s observations. “What do you make of the fact that she keeps asking if she’s a suspect?”

“Nerves? Guilty conscious? Maybe she’s afraid we’ll find something and she wants to make sure we aren’t looking into her.”

“Good. She doesn’t want to be profiled, that usually indicates that she’s hiding something. But, it always comes back to her past, one she claims Jenna had no part of. So… she’s got a bad history, but it’s unrelated to the case.”

“And for some reason it’s taking priority in her mind, instead of Jenna’s death,” Reid concluded.

“You talking about the roommate?” Hotch asked as they approached.

“Yes,” Gideon explained. “She’s an interesting one. A challenge.”

“Do you think she’s involved?”

Gideon shook his head. “If her medical report wasn’t alibi enough, she shows no signs of being a psychopath. Or a sociopath, for that matter. But she’s hard to profile. She’s got a complicated past, no doubt.”

Morgan laughed upon hearing this. “There’s someone Gideon and Reid can’t profile?”

Reid tried to defend the two of them almost immediately. “It’s almost like she uses her generic differences to hide from the bigger ones. Like, she kept saying she had anger issues, and while that added up with her reactions, clearly they stem from something very particular in her life and she’s trying to pretend like that’s not there. Or something…”

Morgan looked him up and down, noticing Reid’s hesitance in his words: almost, like, something… “She’s got you all confused, Reid. I’ve got to meet this chick.”

“You can,” JJ said, walking into the room with Lydia in tow. “She’s still here.”

The whole room looked up as the new girl strode in. Spencer watched her closely, but for some reason, all his suspicions about her had dissolved after meeting her in the hospital. He tried to be unbiased, but he had something of a gut feeling about her. An inexplicable trust that this act of hers was reasonable.

Lydia’s hair was dark, the ends brushing her shoulders as she walked. She looked nervous, approaching the room of profilers, but her voice was completely steady as she spoke.

“I want to offer more assistance. Better assistance than talking about Jenna’s past boyfriends… I just finished an internship recently with the SCPD. I’m a chemistry student, on track to becoming a forensic scientist. I know I’m not anywhere near as qualified as you are, but I’m far more familiar with the crime scene. At the very least, let me point out anything suspicious. Before you guys clear it out, that is.”

Hotch sucked in his lips, hesitantly, before approaching. “Miss-”

“Lydia,” she and Gideon said simultaneously. She glanced at the older man with an unreadable expression.

“Lydia,” Hotch corrected. “I’m Agent Hotchner. What you’re asking to do is difficult. You’ve seen how some of these crime scenes turn out. It’s messy. We can’t guarantee you’re psychologically ready to see what’s there.”

“I won’t be a burden,” she insisted. “You can have surveillance over me the whole time. But I’m positive I can help.”

“Let her do it,” Gideon chimed in. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Hotch was clearly not convinced on the matter, but he nodded. “Reid and Morgan, go along.”

Derek approached, reaching his hand out to shake. “I’m Agent Morgan.”

“Lydia,” she introduced, her demeanor calmer now that Hotch had agreed. “Thank you,” she told the unit chief and left briskly.

“She’s definitely guarded,” Morgan admitted. “She must be hiding a big heart underneath that mask. That or she has ulterior motives to go to the crime scene.”

~ ~ ~

Don’t touch anything.

She almost ran the minute the door opened. It had been a day and a half and the room still smelled with an iron-y sharpness.

If you start to cry, or feel sick, just go. Don’t stop to explain yourself.

Every time she looked at the bed, the words ‘that’s not hers’ flashed in front of her eyes. That dark red stain… that’s not hers. And the light red droplets by the door… that’s not hers.

If you can’t handle it, leave.

Wait… that’s not hers...

“Did you guys test this blood?”

Morgan’s face read with clear confusion. “Why do you ask?”

Lydia’s eyes glanced between the bed and the few spots on the floor. “You said he tied her to the bed before stabbing her. Then, how did these get here? It’s not like he or the knife was dripping with her blood, or else there’d be more evidence of it around the room. Not to mention, he had to walk out of the room and down the hall without raising suspicions. So, it’s unlikely there was enough blood on him or the knife to drip on the floor over here. However, if he’d accidentally been cut, he’d be quick to cover it. Probably didn’t notice any evidence hit the floor. That’s why there’s some here, far away from the body, but not trailing to or from it.”

“Very clever,” Gideon acknowledged. “We actually did have that blood tested. It wasn’t your roommates.”

She nodded, but didn’t seem all that happy to hear she was right. Reid had taken notice that the whole time she was explaining her theory, she never called her roommate by her name. She was distancing herself, which was probably good at the moment, but he wondered what she could be thinking about.

“She struggled,” Lydia continued, looking at the disheveled blankets and items which had fallen from her desk. “That’s good… I need to look in these drawers.”

“I don’t know-” Morgan started, but Gideon was already pulling a pair of gloves out of his pocket.

“Put these on first.”

The younger man was clearly not happy about it, but didn’t say anything, instead glancing at Reid, who looked on curiously. Both him and Gideon wanted to know what Lydia might find.

Once her blue surgical gloves were on, she opened up the drawers to Jenna’s desk. Nothing looked weird. A little scattered, but it reflected Jenna quite well. She was just beginning to think the unsub hadn’t touched anything when a thought crossed her mind.

“Where’s her jewelry?”

“We didn’t find any,” Morgan explained and Lydia shook her head.

“That doesn’t make sense. Jenna-” she caught herself, voice catching only for a moment. “...She always wore necklaces. She kept them in this drawer, because she didn’t like to leave expensive items out. She’d even hide them underneath all of the clutter in the hopes that a thief or burglar wouldn’t search all the way down for them. But they aren’t here. None of them are.”

“That doesn’t add up,” Morgan argued. “We didn’t profile this guy as a robber. Why’s he suddenly stealing expensive jewelry from his victims?”

Lydia shrugged and held up a wallet. “Not for the money. This is still full of cash.”

“The necklaces are a trophy for our unsub,” Gideon reasoned. “We’ve seen weirder.”

She nodded. “Her desk is always this disheveled. He could have searched them, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Anything else seem odd to you?” Gideon asked, noticing a decline in her energy.

She bit down on her bottom lip. Her eyes scanned every corner of the room, zipping over the bed quickly. “Nothing.”

Reid paused, the wheels in his head turning. “We should check pawn shops nearby and see if any of Jenna’s jewelry ended up there. We can try to trace it back to him.”

Gideon agreed. “You two get on that. Lydia, can you come back to the station with me to look over a suspect list?”

She nodded, slowly.

~ ~ ~

“No… No… No… No… ”

Lydia was worried she had hit her limit. Any motivation to help was slowly seeping out of her and a need to scream was replacing it. She’d never seen these guys before. Never heard their names. The most she was able to do at the crime scene was tell them about the necklaces and then a bunch of stuff they already knew. The helpless feeling was taking over once more.

“Gideon.” JJ grabbed his attention as she walked in with a cup of coffee. She set it down next to him, then glanced at Lydia. “Can I possibly get you anything?”

Lydia shook her head. “No… I’m fine. I just-” Something compelled her to go out on a limb. “JJ? Do you know if Jenna had any jewelry on her when she died?”

The blonde woman paused. “No. I can go check the record?”

“Please,” Lydia mumbled.

As she walked off, Gideon raised an eyebrow at her. “You think the unsub might have left a necklace on her person?”

Lydia just dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know,” she huffed. “Looking at these random men isn’t helping. It’s the only lead I’ve got so just… go with me here.”

They waited a moment for JJ to come back in. “She wasn’t wearing any jewelry, but it looks like they found a broken necklace in her pocket.”

Lydia’s ears perked up. “May I see it?”

“I’ve got a picture?” JJ offered.

“Yes. That’d be great.”

Once again, she was gone and Gideon was more invested by the minute. “Broken necklace. That’s interesting. Perhaps he left it behind because it was broken?”

“Maybe he ripped it off her,” Lydia fired back.

“Here you are.” JJ dropped a picture of a beautiful gold chain with a small pink jewel attached to it. And Lydia finally felt some relief.

“What is it?” Gideon asked.

“This isn’t Jenna’s necklace.”

~ ~ ~

“Lydia believes that part of our unsub’s ritual is taking his victim’s necklaces and leaving them on the next one. Lucy Max didn’t have any jewelry on her when we found her, but Elizabeth Chang had a broken necklace in her pocket, which we can’t identify as belonging to her and Lydia claims the one in Jenna’s pocket wasn’t hers either. And since he took all of Jenna’s necklaces, it looks like he plans to drop one on the following victim as well.”

Hotch shook his head. “That’s a lot of faith to put in a random college student. This could very easily have been placed.”

“I trust Lydia,” Gideon declared. “You should have seen her on the scene, Hotch. She’s a natural at this.”

“Yeah. Maybe she’s been studying up on you. We’ve seen that before. You said you could barely figure this girl out, how do we know she’s not manipulating our case?”

“She’s not,” Gideon insisted once more. “Listen, I’ll strike you a deal. Look into this. For me. We think this guy gets his high off of leaving hints as to who he is. Start with anything that might have significance to a necklace. If I’m wrong, I’ll do all the paperwork for the next 3 cases.”

“And if you’re right?” Hotch asked, not sure why he was even considering a deal now. But he was curious. And Gideon seemed set on the idea.

“If I’m right, you have to offer Lydia a job.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia woke up once again without any recollection of having fallen asleep. This time, however, she wasn’t in a hospital bed, which was a relief.

She found herself on a couch. In the police station. She sat up, worried about how long she must have been there, but no one had kicked her out yet. So… hopefully not long?

That’s when she identified the sound that had awoken her. A soft knocking came from the doorframe of the room she was in. She whipped around to find an exhausted Agent Gideon waiting for her attention.

“Sorry to disturb you Lydia, but we’re headed back to the jet, so you’ve got to leave the station.”

“Back to the jet?” She jumped from the couch. “Did you find him?”

“Yes… You were right.”

Lydia wanted to say something but found herself tripping over her own tongue. It felt as if a wave was crashing into her back. She was being pushed forward, away from the distraction of finding who did this to Jenna and instead down into the ocean

Grief was a bitch.

“I… I was right?” she asked.

Gideon started to explain the man they caught to her. Jonathan Carrey. She heard the key words as he said them: necklaces, pawn shops, mother, college girls, confession. But none of them formulated the actual accomplishment Lydia had been waiting for.

“Oh…”

She couldn’t react. Not anymore. All her energy was wasted. She was free from the strong compulsion to find out what had happened to Jenna and left with determination stats in the negatives.

“Lydia, do you have somewhere to go for now?”

She nodded.

“Okay… get some rest. You did good today.”

She felt like she was going to be sick. You did good…

She’s still dead.

And after some hesitance, Agent Gideon was gone.

Lydia picked up her phone, calling a friend to see if she could stay for a few nights.

Process. Cry. Move on. Rest.

She really needed that right now.

“Hey,” a soft voice called as she hung up the phone. This time, it was the strangely silent Dr. Reid who was watching her.

He sort of peaked in and waited for a response or invitation. After she didn’t give him any, just a blank, detached stare, he came in on his own terms

“Uh, I thought you might…” he drifted off, judging her expression before continuing. “I thought you might want these.”

He held open his hand to show her a small, knotted collection of necklaces.

“We recovered them from Jonathan Carrey’s shop. I was considering giving them to Jenna’s parents, but when we spoke to them, they didn’t seem to know as much about Jenna’s jewelry collection as you. So, I figured you’d appreciate them more.”

Lydia took them from him slowly, wrapping the chains around her fingers. Unexpectedly, a few tears slipped down her cheeks, but Lydia let them fall. She deserved it.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.”

It was peculiar, but as he left, a single thought ran through his head:

With everything Lydia had been through, that was the first time he’d heard a tremble in her voice.

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rosethornewrites · 5 years ago

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Fic: Pocketful of Starlight

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Sabine Cheng/Tom Dupain, Master Fu/Marianne Lenoir

Characters: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Tikki, Wayzz, Pollen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug's Parents, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Master Fu, Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, Chloé Bourgeois, Max Kanté, Lê Chiến Kim, Luka Couffaine, Anarka Couffaine, Juleka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Marianne Lenoir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Caline Bustier, Kagami Tsurugi, André Glacier

Tags: Mental Health Issues, Anxiety, Therapy, Trauma, Regret, Lila Rossi salt, what the fuck am i doing?, Moving On, Angst, Feels, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Guilt, Grief, Loss, Implied Relationships, Heroes & Heroines, Introspection

Summary: In the wake of the defeat of Miracle Queen, Marinette has to take time for everyone else. But eventually she has to take time for herself. Written before the release of Felix and Chat Blanc.

Note: The therapy technique is real, and is one I’ve been introduced to as a way of dealing with trauma, triggers, and anxiety. It just seemed like something Fu would teach Marinette, as it relies on the idea of the body’s meridian points, which are used in Chinese medicine.

AO3 link

This is part 2 of the Catch a Falling Star series | Part 1

-------

Marinette didn’t have the luxury of dealing with her feelings right away after Chloé stormed off following the defeat of Miracle Queen. As the new Guardian of the Miraculous, there was a long list of things she must accomplish before then.

On the top of that list was the former Master Fu, who now knew himself as M. Chen. The only person Miraculous Cure didn’t send away was Chat, and so she had him recharge to keep an eye on their former master, while she stowed the Miracle Box in her room and went to the locker with a distraught Wayzz.

Unsurprisingly, the note had all the information she needed: contact information for his beloved Marianne and the address where she could find his belongings. The locker also had items meant to pass to her, including a flash drive of information on the book and other things she would need to know as Guardian. He had been thorough.

Marianne seemed both sad and glad to hear the news—Fu had apparently told her long before that this would be his fate in the end. She agreed to be on the next train to fetch him.

She was relieved Chat knew Marinette had been Multimouse, so when she showed up with a fake ‘note from Ladybug,’ he’d passed responsibility to her civilian self with a smile, telling her he knew Fu would be in good hands.

Marinette ignored the buzzing of her phone as texts came in, and focused on getting M. Chen to his belongings and packed, then over to the train station. Even there, watching the train slowly shrink into the distance as Master Fu was taken to safety, she still didn’t have time.

No, she had text messages from Alya, who was distraught over the memories of what she had been forced to do under the control of Miracle Queen, and was rightly convinced that, with her identity blown, she’d no longer be able to take up the mantle of Rena Rouge. She was able to feign surprise and complimented her on being such a good hero. Her sympathy hasn’t been feigned.

In truth, it felt good to have Alya come to her instead of Lila, who she’d seemed to lose trust in after the expulsion. Things weren’t completely mended between them, and might never be. But she could be a shoulder for Alya to cry on, a sympathetic ear.

Then she had her responsibilities to the kwamis to keep her engaged, something she had put above school. To accomplish this, she had finally confessed her recent near-Akumazations to her parents and told them everything about Lila’s lies and manipulations, and that as there was no proof there was little she could do about them. She told them of going and learning meditative techniques and coping mechanisms on her own. Finally, telling them that the Miracle Queen Akuma, which had hit her friend circle quite hard, had caused her a lot of stress. Marinette had requested, quietly, that she be permitted to take a few mental health days. None of it was a lie.

She wished she had confided in them about it before; they had immediately swept her into a family hug and thanked her for her honesty and trust in them.

“So many people your age bottle it all up,” Maman had said. “But you recognized it and looked for solutions. I’m proud of you, my dear. You’ve become such a mature young woman.”

There had been tears in Papa’s eyes. “We’ll let M. Damocles know we’re keeping you home a few days. Perhaps they will be more willing to investigate this girl if it’s having such an impact on you.”

They’d even asked if she wanted to see a therapist, if she needed more help. She’d thanked them and declined, and their love strengthened her for the tasks she had to complete. Marinette could hardly believe she had been nervous to tell them what was going on. Her parents, who had always supported her.

Her first task involved building a puzzle box large enough to hold the Miracle Box, disguised as a small table for beside her bedroom chaise. That had taken the better part of a day, once she had it sketched and bought the materials. She had treated it as art therapy, even making a home-made wood stain with all natural ingredients to turn the table a deep rose color.

Marinette had time during this project to get to know each of the kwamis individually, taking notes on food preferences in the cases she didn’t know so she could be sure to have some on hand—when enlisting temporary heroes in the future, she planned to include some of the kwami’s preferred recharging food with the miraculous. There had been times recharges were needed but difficult in the heat of battle, and that would make it smoother. Thankfully, dried foods were acceptable to them in a pinch.

While building the puzzle box table she’d sewn the Miracle Box into a throw pillow temporarily, which wound up being a good thing when Chat stopped by midway through the project to ask about Master Fu’s journey. She’d received a call from Marianne when they arrived at their destination, but that was as Ladybug. So she instead let him know what Marinette knew—that he’d been safely escorted to the train, and she’d watched him leave.

When he asked how she had avoided being stung and controlled, she told him she’d seen the wasps and locked herself in the bakery freezer, and Ladybug had let her out when she’d come to enlist her help.

“I was lucky,” she told him.

“I’m glad you stayed safe, Princess. I heard you’ve been absent from school, so I worried.”

“I’m taking a few mental health days, that’s all. Thank you for checking in on me, kitty.”

They chatted a bit more before she went downstairs for leftover pastries for him to enjoy on the rest of patrol, sending him off with the bag of goodies.

Chat had been stopping by regularly since the night she’d cried in his arms, and she had to admit it was nice to have a friendship with him as herself. He’d recently insisted they take a selfie together for her wall, and it had joined a few including Kagami and Luka, as well as some of Alya and Nino that she had put back up.

And then, of course, there was Wayzz. The poor kwami had just lost a holder of over a century, and his loneliness was palpable. Marinette had worked to comfort him as best she could. She knew she could only do so much, but she had put together a comfortable little nest for him and wore the Turtle miraculous along with the Ladybug so he could be out for the transition.

After everything was done, all of her responsibilities, she was finally able to let herself fully deal with everything that had happened, in such quick succession, and all that had changed and been lost.

She finished restuffing and sewing shut the pillow that had once housed the Miracle Box, then laid it out in the middle of her bedroom, seating herself in the relaxed pseudo-lotus position Master Fu had taught her, paying attention to her breathing, heartbeat, the feel of the pillow beneath her, the air around her.

Part of the training she had done with him had included dealing with emotions via meditation, a safer way that would help her avoid Akumazation. Lila’s actions had made it clear she needed help, so after the night Chat had comforted her on the roof, she had confided in the now-former Guardian about the stressors in her life. He had immediately insisted she learn this technique. While it wasn’t always helpful in the moment, if surprises shook her, she had found it was great for helping her process her feelings later so they wouldn’t build up and bury her.

It also helped that both Tikki and Wayzz were there to let her know if she was in danger—and she had shut her room up to impede Akuma for an added sense of security.

The memory of her first meditative session was bittersweet now, as she remembered Master Fu helping her find her happy place, a moment in time wherein she was content and safe on her own. For her, it was the memory of diving off the Eiffel Tower as Ladybug, plummeting by choice with the wind in her face, then snapping the yoyo to swing just above the ground, the experience one of exhilaration and pure happiness.

She went there first, letting herself be in that moment, with the self-confidence it gave her, before going back to one of the things she needed to process.

One of… Really, Fu represented multiple things she had to process. His confidence that she was ready wasn’t one Marinette shared. The number of mistakes she had made, particularly the ones that had led to the loss of Master Fu, haunted her.

She focused again on her breathing, her senses, before tackling the mistakes. Upon discovering Mayura following her, she had failed to consider whether Hawkmoth was also in play, assuming that losing the stolen Peacock holder had been enough. She had approached Master Fu as Ladybug, continuing even after he hinted that she’d made a mistake; perhaps she could have played it off and returned as Marinette.

Marinette let herself feel the shame and guilt associated with that, the feeling of inadequacy and impostor syndrome that plagued her so often.

The next ritual had been ingrained in her over the past few months.

“Even though I made a mistake, I deeply and completely accept myself. Even though I fear I will continue to make mistakes, I deeply and completely accept myself.”

She softly repeated the mantra, going through the emotional freedom tapping sequence she had learned as she allowed herself to feel the emotions swirling through her, seeking the root.

Fear. The root was fear.

“Even though I’m afraid my mistakes will hurt people…”

She continued the process, gently tapping the points Master Fu had led her through until the emotions started to ease, appropriately processed as the result of the trauma that had occurred.

“Even though I know I will make more mistakes…”

She worked toward acceptance of the inevitable. Tikki and Fu had told her mistakes were inevitable; she was only human, and humans weren’t perfect. The important thing, Fu told her, was learning from mistakes through processing them.

“You and Chat Noir fixed my biggest mistake, Marinette. The one that haunted me for well over a century. I learned much from my mistake, as you will with yours.”

Marinette assessed the emotion; it wasn’t totally gone, but it was at a manageable level, something that she could keep from overwhelming her.

The reality was, Master Fu had talked with her about retiring. He had known this would happen to him, that his memories of the Miraculous and his time as Guardian would disappear. He had trusted Marinette as Ladybug to be the next Guardian, to take over the job he had started at such a young age nearly two centuries ago, the job he had been forced into by his own mistake that had only recently been rectified.

Additionally, Hawkmoth could have seen through an attempt to play it off, and with him following her without her knowledge, Marinette’s detransformation could have left her identity known to the enemy, putting her and everyone she loved in grave danger. Perhaps it had been the luck Ladybug was known for, saving her in a situation wherein only one of them could be saved, in effect ensuring the Miracle Box would continue to be protected beyond Fu.

On an intellectual level, Marinette was struck by a collège memory of Mme. Bustier teaching them the hero’s journey style of story building and literary analysis. As much as she loathed the idea of following some sort of fated narrative arc, in class they had discussed how this occasionally translated to the real world. The mentor figure, often a wise elder, would disappear when it was time for the hero to continue alone, when nothing more could be taught.

“Even though I fear I don’t control my own destiny…”

This fear was distinctly of the future. Instead of tapping the meridian points, she shifted to applying a gentle, sustained pressure against each to ease the anxiety that wrapped around her like a cold fog, repeating her mantra until it dissipated in the warmth of hope.

She let herself return to the exhilaration of purposeful freefall from the Tower for a bit, letting that strengthen her as she turned to the related issue…

Fu had not told her she would lose her memories of the Miraculous when it became her turn to retire, that these wonderful memories, even the one that served as her anchor, would be swept away like a sandcastle at high tide. She would forget Chat Noir, forget all the conversations she’d had and would continue up to that point to have with Tikki, forget the very thing that had given her the self-confidence to stand up to Chloé and ultimately put herself out into the world that had once terrified her more fully, to take risks…

Oh, she would miss Tikki when it came time… or maybe she wouldn’t. And that was almost more terrifying.

“Even though I’m afraid of eventually losing my memories…”

The way she had become Multimouse upon losing Tikki to Kwamibuster—the way she had overcome that. Yes, it was another Miraculous that had allowed her to overcome, but she had figured it out.

“Even though I’m afraid I’ll be lost without these memories…”

After a while, three or four rounds of processing and evaluating, the fear had eased enough for her to move on.

She could feel the tears on her cheeks; that had been scary the first few times with Fu, when she’d been afraid the tears would bring Hawkmoth to her, but he had assured her it was part of the process, that it was natural when she allowed herself to experience the emotions fully. She could do this in safety if she used her anchor.

Marinette returned to her anchor memory, allowing herself to swim toward the surface of the meditative state enough to ask Tikki if there was any danger.

“I haven’t sensed an Akuma, Marinette. You can keep going, unless you need a break?”

That brought a smile to her face, and a surge of affection for her empathetic kwami. She knew the memories would be taken, but the emotions wouldn’t leave. She had seen that first-hand when M. Chen had seen Marianne and the memory of loving her had emerged so strongly that he’d stumbled.

“Wayzz?” Marinette couldn’t contain her curiosity.

“Yes, Master?”

“Just Marinette, please.” She knew the kwami chafed a bit at the informality, but she would treat them as her equals, not anything less.

“Ah… of course, Marinette. Did you have a question?”

“You hid behind me when Fu came to, after he named me Guardian. Would he have remembered if he had seen you?”

Wayzz is silent for a bit, and she can almost hear him thinking. “It’s possible. Regardless, he asked me to let him forget, to let him retire fully. At the Temple, the retired would reside among the uninitiated, as tradition.”

Marinette nodded. That made sense, and she would keep it in mind as a possible way to overcome if she wanted to at that point in her life. She had a lifetime to decide.

“Thank you, Wayzz.”

She let herself ease back into full meditation, to her anchor memory, the unbridled joy.

Three other points of emotional turmoil needed resolving. Two of them were highly related, which drew her to them. The fallout from Chloé’s voluntary stint as Miracle Queen was twofold: first, it had robbed Ladybug of all her temporary heroes, as all were now known to Hawkmoth and Mayura. She refused to put them and their families and friends in danger by continuing to approach them; nor would she put the kwami in a position to potentially be captured by a psychopath.

Even with her decision, she wasn’t sure that Hawkmoth wouldn’t monitor them anyway, or do worse. There was the potential of hostage situations. Marinette just hoped this was just her castastrophizing and not something that would happen. She did, however, need to be prepared if it did, and that would mean sharing that concern with Chat Noir. Hopefully he would be able to watch over some of them outside the mask, just as she would.

“Even though I fear the temporary holders could be in danger…”

Alya and Nino, two people she loved dearly despite their flaws, just as they did her; she had meditated extensively on their friendships with Fu after her near-Akumazation during Lila’s stunt at school that had left her temporarily expelled.

Kim, who she knew only casually, but whose exuberance was a mirror of Xuppu’s, a kwami he was suited for but would never hold again.

Max, a boy who had built his own best friend and formed new relationships alongside Markov, and who had fought so nobly to save his mother and friends.

Luka, who could hear the music of her heart and had told her it was beautiful, who had wielded the Snake like a pro. His family—Anarka, Juleka, and Rose, who was basically his sister in law—would be in danger.

And her newest friend, Kagami, for whom she had ultimately given up Adrien—who would also be in danger—and who seemed destined to hold the Dragon, though that was beyond reach now.

The only remedy was impossible in the war Hawkmoth had started: to never again give out Miraculous and cultivate allies. Ultimately, recalcitrance in that direction could hand the man holding Paris hostage victory.

Her allies would have to change. Marinette would need to visit each of them personally as Ladybug to thank them for their service and officially retire them. She couldn’t predict what Hawkmoth might do with the knowledge of their identities, but she could be proactive. They would get the contact information for her yoyo… or perhaps she could commission Max to create panic buttons with GPS, something for the six of them to carry at all times for security, which could alert herself and Chat if they were triggered.

Master Fu had been delighted upon learning that processing her emotions in this way led to reasoned planning.

“Your creativity is ingrained in you, Marinette. You truly are the perfect Ladybug. And you will be the ideal Guardian, as well.”

She returned to her anchor, lingering there a bit longer than before. The last two would be more difficult.

Chloé. Queen Bee. Miracle Queen.

Marinette had held onto the hope that she could help Chloé, both as herself and Ladybug. She could see there was good in the blonde, just buried under behaviors she’d learned and adopted to survive the trauma of abandonment.

She hadn’t seen it—not for the longest time, and certainly not when Chloé had been bullying her.

No, it had come later, in moments. Seeing Chloé grieve giving up Pollen each time she had to return the Bee Miraculous; seeing the flash of pure hurt that had quickly been covered with rage at Audrey choosing Marinette, a stranger, to be with her rather than her own daughter. Moments of joy or simple contentment.

Chloé was a scarred soul who had armored her vulnerability with cruel words and a pretense of superiority. Anything that threatened that superiority, however false it was, became a target, her fear and trauma allowing no less.

But she’d had potential to be better, Marinette had thought. Unlike Lila, whose very countenance showed no indication of anything but cruelty, Chloé could be rehabilitated.

For a while it seemed it could work—Chloé working for the greater good. But it wasn’t enough for her; she’d wanted more, on her timetable.

Or perhaps Marinette had mistaken a lust for power and prestige for a desire for connection to something greater. Maybe it had been her own hubris, feeling she could reach someone so damaged.

Oh, she had hoped. She could just imagine the force for good Chloé could become, if only she could be reached, could be healed.

Marinette wished it were otherwise, but Pollen had tearfully told her of the order of silence, how the holder Pollen had shared her hopes for had turned abusive, had turned a partnership into a slavery.

“Even though I failed to help Chloé…”

This set took longer, more repetition, more tapping, and it felt as though her breath was being sucked away as she processed the grief she felt at a possible future destroyed.

She could only carry so much; those she helped had to want it, had to try, had to trust. She knew how hard that was for Chloé, but she also knew her own limits, the things she could not do. Perhaps, with professional help, the girl could be reached. Marinette didn’t have those tools.

It wasn’t entirely Chloé’s fault, either. Her fears and insecurities and traumas had made her susceptible to the machinations of Hawkmoth’s evil. A man who would Akumatized a toddler would have no qualms tearing open a teenager’s scars and manipulating them for his own personal gain. He’d long ago proved his depravity.

Even now, she didn’t hate Chloé.

Marinette hadn’t paid attention to the news since sending off M. Chen, so she didn’t know what the Paris authorities intended to do regarding the Miracle Queen debacle. But perhaps she could help Chloé Bourgeois in one last way, as Ladybug. She could request not leniency but access to mental health care, could testify that she knew Chloé has potential, if only given the tools to heal.

The pain had faded to an acceptable level, and she jumped off the Eiffel Tower again, sweeping toward the ground with the wind and gravity in her face, the sun kissing her cheeks.

Her last task: Adrien.

She had loved him so intensely and so long, the boy Alya had nicknamed Sunshine. He had been her sun, and she’d been the moth drawn to him. Marinette had spent the last several weeks reflecting on her obsession with him, recognizing it finally for what it was. She had acted only marginally different with him than Chat Noir did with Ladybug.

She had resolved to let him go, after Chat’s visit, for good. She’d been headed there anyway, taking the pictures down and drawing away. Chat’s visit had helped her find the strength.

And then something had shifted. When she was able to return to school, Adrien had apologized for failing to see Lila had targeted her, was hurting her, until it was too late.

“I know doesn’t excuse abandoning you, Marinette, but I hope I can make it up to you.”

What had once been the fire of obsession, doused to coals, smoldered still, a slow warmth that didn’t threaten to consume her anymore.

A few days later, Adrien loudly told Lila to stop touching him, that it made him uncomfortable, in front of Mme. Bustier.

Lila turned on the waterworks, trying to claim it was a way of showing affection in Italy, and Adrien hadn’t given an inch.

“Here in France, it’s sexual harassment,” he’d said. “And I’m tired of asking you to stop.”

“Are you okay, Adrien?” Marinette had asked after Lila stomped back to her seat. “I know it’s not always easy to stand up for yourself.”

“I’m okay.” His smile had warmed her heart, and he’d stepped forward to embrace her. “Thanks for asking, Marinette.”

Then Lila had snarkily asked Mme. Bustier why Marinette wasn’t getting in trouble for sexual harassment. The continued tantrum had earned her detention, during which she was to complete a sexual harassment seminar, “since you clearly don’t know what it is.”

It had been glorious.

The memory brought a smile to her face. She had thought then that perhaps it wasn’t over after all.

But when it came to choosing which flavor combination she, Kagami, and Adrien should get from André, the two of them looking at her so trustingly after having included her in their antics at the hotel and subsequent escape…

Marinette had let go of her love for Adrien.

She had chosen friendship.

She had chosen Kagami’s happiness, and let go the embers in her heart.

They still glowed there, but she made the decision to let them fade.

“Even though I’ve lost my first love…”

She was surprised to discover that the pain she expected to find was only a dull ache, not the intense loss she had expected. As though letting go and crying it out with Chat had allowed her to process the worst of it with the help of a friend.

Music moved through her, a tune she knew she’d heard just recently, but couldn’t place.

Marinette halfway done with the first round of meditative tapping when she felt the touch on the back of her neck. The warning signal she and Tikki had decided upon.

She pulled on her anchor, diving into the sunlight and wind and letting the joy and confidence overtake her, then opened her eyes.

The Akuma had come through the vent, and was gently fluttering, hovering as though waiting for her negativity to return. Hawkmoth had been strangely inactive in the days following Miracle Queen’s defeat.

Marinette let the joy of being Ladybug flow through her, and smiled at the butterfly. Even though she’d only been sitting for perhaps an hour or two, she felt as though she had aged a decade. But she was Ladybug, and Ladybug would prevail.

“I will not be your marionette, Hawkmoth. You will not prey on my traumas to soothe your own.” She stood, moving toward the trapdoor that led to the roof, calm and poised. “Perhaps you should try therapy instead of sadism.”

After opening it, she turned back. She had no idea if Hawkmoth could hear or see her through the Akuma. It hovered, as though staring at her.

“You are not welcome here, little butterfly. Come back when you’re not evil.”

After a pause, the Akuma fluttered up and out of the sunroof, into the blue sky.

“I hope you don’t victimize someone else,” she called after it, and then shut the trapdoor decisively.

Tikki and Wayzz zoomed around her, taking their places on her shoulders as she unmuted her phone, waiting for an Akuma alert.

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echo-bleu · 4 years ago

Text

Five Things You Can See

I originally wrote this for the Whumptober “Asphyxiation”, but I never posted it on here. So it’s not technically new, but it’s my entry for day 1 of the Missing Alex Manes weekend ( @alexmanesappreciation) since I didn’t have the time or energy to write new things.

[panic attack, PTSD, abuse, mentions of war]

“Hey, I'm heading out,” Kyle says, passing behind Alex's chair.

Alex checks the time on his computer to see that it's already lunch time.

“Got a date?” he asks.

“No, just a healthy work routine,” Kyle shoots back. “You should get out more.”

“I'm eating out tonight,” Alex shrugs. “So I just brought a sandwich for lunch.”

“Eating out, uh? That's what got you mooning at your screen all morning?”

Alex turns in his chair to look at Kyle, who is opening the bunker door. “I'm not mooning!” he exclaims.

“Right,” Kyle rolls his eyes. “See you later.”

Alex glares at his back and goes back to his monitor. Seeing the shimmering out of the corner of his eyes, he pulls back his sleeve to admire the handprint on his palm. The colors and shining still mesmerize him every time he sees a handprint or the console, and today it's tinted with a rush of pride−and a foreign feeling of love love love mixing perfectly with his own. Michael did that.

He's been struggling with his powers for weeks. After Isobel shared that she manage to make a picture frame explode, and that Noah said they all had more powers than they thought, Liz became convinced that the only way to bring Max back was for Isobel and Michael to figure out how to heal him. Since then, they've been working at it most days, and it's been a trying time.

Alex has tried to support Michael through his grief the best he can, ever since he came back to his trailer late the evening Max died, after Alex waited for him all day, and collapsed in Alex's arms. He told Alex everything, talking through the night, about Noah, about Max, and finally about Maria. How he'd tried to find solace in paying guitar and Maria's lips and found out that all he wanted was Alex's arms.

Alex welcomed him into his arms gladly.

Isobel is now good at tossing objects around the room, and Michael is a convincing telepath. But neither of them had made any kind of progress on healing wounds. Liz, always self-sacrificing, has given herself countless paper cuts−all in the controlled environment of her lab, of course−and even convinced Alex and Kyle to help, but nothing has seemed to work.

Until last night, when Alex cut his hand deeply while trying to cook for a date dinner. The date almost ended in the ER, which Alex should have known because he's a terrible cook, but Michael sat in front of him as Alex was trying to control the bleeding with a bunch of tissues, cursing, and grabbed Alex's hand.

It took almost half an hour before the wound was completely gone, and Michael spent another hour throwing up and chugging acetone, but it worked. And it gave Alex an interesting new perspective on Michael's feelings for him, as their emotions started to mingle.

That's why he's spent the whole morning smiling to himself like a newlywed, but he's not going to tell Kyle that.

Pulling his sandwich out of his bag, he absently presses play on the next of the Caulfield surveillance video. He and Kyle have been going through them for months, now, and by now they're mostly doing it to give themselves good conscience, because it's highly unlikely they're going to find something new. The videos Alex is currently speeding through are nearly twenty years old.

Except the image on the screen makes him stop in his tracks. It's his father. Alex has seen him pop up in the surveillance images often, but he's almost never taking part in the experiments. But this time he is.

He's towering over a woman strapped to a table, whom Alex recognizes immediately as Michael's mother. Fuck. His father and Michael's mom in the same room doesn't sound good. There's no sound, which is part of the reason why the surveillance videos have been less than useful, and the image is grainy.

Alex watches, transfixed, as Jesse Manes talks. He has the same expression on his face as the one he gets every time he tells Alex how much he's disappointed in his son. Alex can't tell what he's saying, but his features slowly turn angrier at Mara's lack of reaction. She looks strangely immobile, peaceful, like her mind is not even there. She's dissociating, Alex thinks. I recognize that look.

Alex can't take his eyes off the screen. He flinches, the first time his father slaps Mara. He can hear the sound in his mind, like a clap of thunder.

This would have been...he checks the date in the corner of the screen. A couple of months after his mother left. Alex was eight. His father was angry all the time then, and Alex bore the brunt of it.

It turns out he wasn't the only one receiving the abuse. And he wasn't the only one who was completely defenseless in front of Jesse Manes.

Alex bites on his finger as Jesse slaps Mara again. He can almost feel the slap on his own cheek, but worse than that, he remembers the marks on his mother's cheek, more and more common in the last few months before she left. Jesse Manes has always liked people he can tower over, people who will cower in front of him. His wife. His youngest son. His son's seventeen-year-old already-abused boyfriend, once.

And, apparently, tied-up alien women.

Alex doesn't even realize he's having a panic attack until the world is swimming in front of him. He gasps, desperate for air that won't fill his lungs.

Dammit. Alex tries to focus on breathing, but the video is still going, and his hands are shaking too much to stop it. Not that he can. He can't take his eyes off his father and Mara.

Breathe. It doesn't help.

Five things you can see. Alex has done this hundreds of time. He learned this particular technique in therapy, but he used some variation of it long before he even made it to basic training. The screen. The bunker around him. His father, in the goddamn video. Shit.

Wheezing, Alex lets himself slide down from his chair and to the floor. He huddled under the desk. At least from there he can't see the screen anymore.

The legs of the chair. Part of the table. His bag, on another chair beside the desk.

No movement. Jesse Manes isn't there. Alex gasps.

Four things you can touch. Er, the floor. Probably dirty, because no one has bothered to clean since Jesse Manes ended up in the hospital. Alex closes his eyes at the thought of his father. Focus. The wall behind his back. The desk, with the top of his head. His neck is going to hurt later. His leg, too. The prosthetic, he can feel it, the sock around his stump. His clothes.

Three things you can hear. There isn't much, with the bunker underground and soundproof. Ventilation. The computer's buzzing. His phone, ringing.

Wait, his phone is ringing.

Alex ignores it, still panting. The world is coming back into focus around him, slowly, but he feels exhausted.

Two things you can smell. Dust. Plastic.

One thing you can taste. Ashes.

Alex swallows.

The ashes taste is what he gets for letting his traumas mix up together, because that's one from the explosion. Oh, well. He could rinse out the taste, but his water bottle is in his bag, too far away. He lets his breathing slow down instead.

His phone is still ringing. It's on the desk, where the video is playing on the screen. He can't deal with it right now.

It stops ringing, and Alex makes no move to get up. He'll need to, before Kyle makes it back here, but he has maybe another half-hour. He rests his head on his arm instead, so tired that he would lay down on the floor if there was enough space under the desk, and traces at the shining mark on his hand, trying to find comfort in it.

Alex scrambles to stand up when he hears the door of the bunker open, almost hitting his head in the process. His neck and his leg have seized up from the awkward position he was in under the desk, as he suspected, and he lets himself drop onto his chair just before Kyle walks in.

“Alex? You're still here? Liz's been calling you,” Kyle says.

Shit. “I guess my phone's on silent,” Alex answers as casually as possible. He makes a show to check it, and the screen shows three missed calls from Liz and one from Michael.

A cursory, though apprehensive, look tells him that while the surveillance video is still playing on his computer monitor, it's now showing an empty room. He lets out a breath of relief. “What's up?” he asks.

“Apparently something weird happened to Michael during training,” Kyle says. “They called me to check him out.”

“Weird? Weird how?”

“He said it was like he was being asphyxiated for a couple of minutes, and then it was gone just as silently.”

Alex frowns. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he's fine, just a little shaken up. But we don't know what caused it.”

“I should go check on him,” Alex says, standing up. “I haven't eaten,” he adds, taking his sandwich. He hopes Kyle doesn't notice that there's several bites missing, or that Alex limps more than usual when he walks out of the bunker. Kyle doesn't need to know about his father and Mara.

Alex shudders just thinking about it, the images stuck in his mind. Trying to distract himself, he starts his car and puts the radio on, thinking about Michael. Is something wrong with him?

He makes it to Max's house, when Michael and Isobel have been training, before he's even finished his sandwich.

“Hey,” he knocks on the door, coming in without waiting for an answer. “Kyle told me something happened?”

“I've been calling you,” Liz says immediately, pulling him into the living room. Alex stumbles, but catches himself on a bookshelf. “Oh, sorry. You okay?”

“Fine,” Alex says through gritted teeth, riding the sudden added pain. “Michael?”

“I'm okay,” Michael walks up to him from the couch. “It was nothing. It's gone.”

“I still think you should come with me to the lab to draw some blood, see if I can figure out what caused this,” Liz says.

“Maybe you should,” Isobel adds. “It was kinda scary.”

“I don't think anything's wrong with me,” Michael says. “I feel fine. It felt more like...it came from somewhere else. Maybe the mind stuff went wrong somehow. Maybe Isobel choked me without knowing it with her telekinesis, she's still not fully in control.”

Alex looks between them, trying to follow the conversation. “You should do what Liz says,” he pipes up. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Fine,” Michael sulks. “Wait, didn't you feel anything? You're supposed to feel everything I feel,” he indicates Alex's hand.

Alex starts to shake his head, frowning, but he stops himself. What if−

Fuck. He looks at Michael, then down at the shimmering handprint. He did this. He made Michael feel−

Fuck. Fuck Fuck−

“Alex!” Michael chokes out.

“Michael!” Liz shouts.

Michael's hand goes to his throat, as Alex struggles to breathe.

“Shit, that's what it was!” Liz exclaims, catching Alex before he falls down. “What the hell?”

“He's having a panic attack,” Alex dimly hears Isobel says. “Alex, breathe with me.”

Alex tries, but he can barely see Michael in front of him, struggling to breathe. “Alex, focus on me!” Isobel tries, forcing herself into his field of vision. “Count down from twenty, okay? With me. Twenty−”

Alex shakes his head, looking wildly around him. He has to get this under control. Right now, before it affects Michael even more. Only the thought that he's doing that to Michael is making it worse.

Arms engulfs him, squeezing him tightly, and−it's Michael. Alex can hear his wheezing, irregular breathing in his ear. The hug grounds him, almost immediately.

Count down. Twenty. Nineteen.

Michael is like a warm cocoon around Alex's trembling form.

Eighteen. Seventeen.

Alex forces his breaths to lengthen, ignoring the burning feeling in his chest. He has to do it, for Michael.

Fourteen. Thirteen.

“You're doing good,” Michael murmurs haltingly.

Ten. Nine.

They're on their knees, and Alex knows he's not going to be able to walk after that, but it's okay. Michael's there.

Not his father.

Five. Four.

“Almost there,” Michael says.

Two. One. Alex lets himself falls fully to the floor, unable to hold himself up. Michael gently accompanies him until they're both lying down. Their hearts are beating in unison, too fast and too strong.

“There.”

The girls have retreated somewhere else. Alex will care, later, that they saw all this, but right now he doesn't. “You okay?” he asks Michael in a whisper.

“Yeah,” Michael says, pulling himself up to look at him. “Looks like I feel what you feel, too.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I'd like to know what brought it on the first time, but we'll talk about it later. Right now, just let me get you to the couch and you can rest.”

“I don't need−” Alex starts.

“Alex, if the next words to come out of your mouth are that you don't need to rest, I'm going to choke you myself.”

Alex laughs weakly, surrendering. “Fine.”

He lets Michael pull him up and help him to the couch, using both his body and his telekinesis to keep Alex upright. Once Alex is lying on the couch, he sits down on the edge, running his hand down Alex's back.

“You don't have to stay,” Alex murmurs. Two panic attacks in a row are a bit too much for his body to handle. He feels his eyes closing on their own.

“I'm not leaving. I'd rather not end up randomly choking again without knowing why. So I'm stuck with you for the next few days.”

“Won't happen again,” Alex mutters.

“Yeah, well let's make sure of that together, alright? You can sleep. I'm just staying here.”

Alex nods, too tired to fight it. The hand on his back is still grounding, and he never wants it to go.

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #roswell new mexico #missingalexmanes #roswell nm #malex fic #mine #echo's fanfiction #whumptober2019

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crowsent · 5 years ago

Note

I just read your essay on why Akiren has 0 social stats at the beginning of the game and I completely agree with you. I have another question for you though. Why do you think Yu and Minato had 0 social stats at the beginning of their games? Maybe for Minato it’s because he numbed himself to the world due the trauma of his parents’ deaths. For Yu, I think it might be him trying not to get attached to people since he’s only going to be there for a year.

minato’s reason is definitely bc of his apathy. homeboi looked yukari dead in the eyes and asked “Is dying really that scary to you?” he lives his life in apathy which is a nice nice tie-in for the in-game apathy syndrome thing.

in P3, minato’s journey was about him learning the value of life. forming mortal connections that grew so powerful that he chose to become the great seal to protect the world. throughout the game, some of his dialogue options actively break social links and you as a player have to work to keep those links intact. and there’s the manner of summoning personas.

the 0 social stats for minato is likely because he has no reason to better himself. he’s just there. its more noticeable in the movie but early game minato is an apathetic empty mess. only when you advance in the game and form bonds w people does minato seem like he’s actually enjoying life. the rise of social stats is probably minato actually learning those skills.

notice that he only has 3 stats to raise: charm, intelligence, and courage. those 3 make sense to be the stats he focuses on throughout the game. academics is easily improved by studying. charm can easily be interpreted as how comfortable he is with himself. courage is. courage. and these 3 tie in the game’s theme nicely. p3′s central theme i think is accepting death. loss. grief. feeling emotion and destroying apathy. as minato raises his stats throughout the game, he equips himself with the necessary tools to handle loss and death.

max stat end game minato is simply him actually growing as a person and slowly beginning to enjoy life. he learns to enjoy life so much that he gives his own to protect the lives of everything else and im still not fucking over it.

for yu, admittedly, im not. that familiar w his story. i havent played p4 in a long long time but p4 is essentially about finding the truth, never giving in to ignorance, etc. its been really long yall.

p4′s story is more straightforward than 3 and 5 so i think yu’s stat progression is also a bit more linear and not as complicated. it’s straightforward. 3 has an existential crisis with judeo-christian undertones and conspiracies and the whole shinjiro-ken debacle and lots of conflicting motives from the sees on why they’re fighting. yukari has her father, ken has revenge, mitsuru has the kirijo name, etc. 5 is a heist movie turned into a game with all of the twists and turns heist movies have and all the PTs have their own reasons for pursuing justice.

with p4, their sole motivation is to uncover the truth. all of them have that one thing in mind and they all work together towards that goal. there are definitely bumps along the road but all of them want to get to the bottom of the matter. to uncover what the fog’s been hiding, to answer all the mysteries they’ve been presented with.

on that note, yu is probably developing his skills for the sake of developing his skills. he has responsibility as leader and senpai to be on top of everything and to be someone his team can rely on. all of them are stumbling in the dark. p3 has mitsuru and akihiko who help guide minato. p5 has morgana and igor who do the same thing for akiren. p4 has no one. teddy knows almost nothing about the shadow world. teddy has a very loose identity (and it becomes a plot point for him) and yu has to lead every single one of the IT through nothing.

so that would be a big reason for him to improve his stats. he wants to be better for his team. he wants to be someone they can depend on. he wants to be needed and be connected with them. (he loved his team so much that he imagined the whole trapped in inaba forever sequence) his stat improvement is him wanting to be better for the sake of being better. so he can explore more of the shadow world. so he can connect deeper with his friends and his team.

imo p4 did a better job w the whole connecting thing than 3 or 5. 3 is overshadowed by the plot. the whole “beat a shadow to advance confidant” thing in 5 was handled poorly. 4 focused on the slink and slink alone so there was more development. plus branching dialogue that’s affected by the previous slink rank. you can feel like youre actually connecting with these people so you want to know them better and to know them better you need to improve your stats so you improve your stats.

in summary.

persona 5 - protagonist starts with 0 (zero) stats because society told him that he’s nothing more than criminal scum which heavily affected his cognition of himself, leading to akiren believing that his stats actually ARE at 0 even though theyre not

persona 3 - protagonist starts with 0 (zero) stats not for lack of trying, but because minato arisato literally did not care about life or death and only gained stats as he overcame his apathy

persona 4 - protagonist starts with 0 (zero) stats because yuu actually starts closest TO 0 stats and his journey throughout the game is a progression of his own personal growth as he strives to better himself for the sake of his team and friends

#crowsas answers #my hobby is writing essays #persona #p3 #p4 #p5

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