#and i think in part? yeah she doesn't like violence she hates killing

[nakylvr]

— CRAZY

sophia laforteza x fem!reader

summary: sophia's first official mission assigned with you doesn't go exactly as planned

warnings/tags: language, violence, kate bishop!sophia, yelena belova!reader, one sided enemies to lovers

part 1

another part hehe lmk if yall want more 😋

"hey, pretty."

sophia closes her eyes and clenches her jaw to keep herself from snapping just at the sound of your voice and presence beside her. after she was informed you would now be accompanying her on every mission she was assigned due to her mentor being forced into early retirement, she was not happy in the slightest. she was used to clint, she had been his apprentice for a while now. she was a sociable person, but she did not like you. scratch that, she hated you.

"hello," she says calmly, opening her eyes and finally looking at you.

sophia forgot everything she was going to say when she looked at you, feeling the air get sucked from her lungs at what you were wearing. compared to seeing you last week when you broke into her apartment and were in casual clothes, seeing you in your suit had her face turning red without realizing. it was essentially the same as black widow's suit, only for it was white and had a lot more holsters with guns and knives alike in them. the night vision goggles were an addition she didn't expect either as they sat on top of your head so you could see her clearly.

"what? cat got your tongue, pretty?" you tease, a smile growing on your face.

"shut up." sophia turns her head toward the warehouse you were standing in front of. "do you need a briefing on what we're doing?"

"nah." you shake your head. "go in and eliminate the bad guys." you put your night vision goggles over your eyes.

"what?" sophia looks at you confused. "no, we're-"

however, she was cut off from her sentence by you grappling to the building and zipping up to the second floor, her jaw hanging open at you just leaving. "oh boy," she mumbles to herself, putting her visors over her eyes. "this is gonna be a long night."

landing in a room on the second floor, you stay low to the ground and look around. you could hear movement and voices downstairs, but you weren't close enough to hear what they were saying.

"where are you?" sophia's voice comes through the earpiece hooked around your ear.

"second floor," you answer quietly, standing up and starting to walk around. "they're all downstairs."

"you're sure?" sophia questions.

"considering i haven't gotten shot yet, yeah. i'm sure," you reply. "where are you?"

"back entrance. i count seven of them."

"how many can you take?" you carefully open the door of the room, stealthily making your way down the hall to the stairwell. you can see all of the men clearly now, and with your night vision goggles you can easily spot where they specifically are. "oh, and are we supposed to kill them?"

"try not to kill them," sophia tells you. "we're supposed to just extract the weapons. there's no need to kill unless it's necessary."

"and what do we deem necessary?" you ask, pulling out one of your knives and readying it in your hand to throw. "because if you didn't notice, they all have guns. three have sub machine guns and four have regular pistols. this isn't going to be a no-kill situation i don't think."

"whatever you're thinking, don't do-"

you don't let sophia finish her sentence, seeing one of the men look at you and starting to raise his gun before you threw your knife right in the center of his chest. immediately the other men noticed due to the scream, and they all started looking around for you.

"god damnit," sophia curses under her breath while securing the arrow on her bow. "fine. shoot to kill."

a smile forms on your face at her words. "don't need to tell me twice." you pull your pistol from your holster, aiming at the head of one of the men. "just give me the okay, pretty."

"you already have it, dumbass. now shoot." sophia rolls her eyes, peering through the window she was next to.

closing your right eye, you pull the trigger and the bullet lands right in the center of his head. "bullseye," you snicker. the men turn in your direction, making your eyes widen slightly, but the smile on your face grows. "alright then." you pull another knife out with your free hand.

as soon as one of the men spot you and raises his gun, an arrow comes flying and lands in his chest right where the heart is. he barely managed to get a small scream out before he landed on the ground, making the group start averting their attention to the back entrance.

you slowly start making your way down the stairs, but when you step on a certain one it makes a loud creaking noise and a few of the men turn back to you. "shit," you curse. they quickly raise their guns and start shooting rapidly, making you jump over the rail of the stairs and land on the ground to duck behind the wall. bullets fly through the wood of the wall, and you're stuck until they stop firing, knowing better than to try and shoot back in the midst of countless bullets coming in your direction.

"jesus christ," sophia grumbles under her breath the second you make noise on the stairs. thankfully, it did help her get inside quietly and hide behind one of the crates, peeking around the corner with an arrow aiming at one of the men. without hesitation she lets go, and the arrow flies, hitting him in the head.

once the firing slowed to a stop, you quickly get up from behind the wall and into the open, where you immediately throw your knife and start shooting with your other hand before ducking back behind the wall. reloading your gun, you hear footsteps start approaching you.

"a little help would be nice, y'know," you say quietly, another knife already in your hand.

you don't get a response from sophia, instead you hear the whizzing of an arrow fly by that hits the man walking towards you, the body landing next to you on the ground.

two left. then you'd be out of here. this should be easy.

peeking around the corner, you can see the the remaining two heading towards sophia's direction. you move around the body next to you, sneaking closer to the two who's backs were faced towards you, barely being able to see sophia's bow above the crate ready to shoot. moving quicker, you stand up straight and stab the first man in the neck, holding him against your chest while shooting at the second one.

dropping the body in your arm, it falls to the ground beneath you as you take a few deep breaths. "well, that was easy!" you say, putting your gun back in its holster.

"you almost died, idiot." sophia stands up, taking the arrow out and putting it away in the bag on her back.

"but you saved me." you smile at her. "so it wasn't that–"

you're interrupted by a gunshot ringing past your ears. the next few moments felt like a blur. hearing the shot, turning and raising your pistol, shooting the man, sophia on the ground bleeding out.

"sophia! shit, shit, shit!" you crouch down and pick her up bridal style, looking around frantically before quickly running out of the warehouse.

your first thought is go to HQ, but that's too far. your second option is go to the hospital, but you were explicitly told to not go to any public hospital. your last option was your apartment, which wasn't too far if you ran quick enough. so that's where you started running to.

sophia could barely process what was going on until she opened her eyes and realized she was being carried in your arms while you ran down the streets to your apartment. she could see you talking, but she couldn't hear what you were saying, the blood rushing to her head that felt heavy as she laid limp in your arms. she could make out a few words. 'you're going to be okay' was the most she could see you repeating to either her or yourself for reassurance.

you kept glancing down at the woman in your arms, blood seeping into your white suit as you ran faster. her eyes were open, that was a good sign. that meant you still had some time.

getting to your apartment, after fumbling with the key for a moment you manage to get inside, shutting the door with your foot. you hurry over to your couch, carefully laying sophia down on it before rushing into the bathroom to get your first aid kit and other supplies. getting back to sophia on the couch, you crouch down beside her.

"hey, you're probably gonna hate me for this but if i don't get this out you will bleed out," you say, opening the first aid kit and your small bag of other medical equipment. "but thankfully i know what i'm doing. because of being shot multiple times." you flash a small smile at her. once you had everything laid out on your coffee table next to you, you look back at sophia. "will you let me help you?"

sophia, who's eyes were hardly open at this point, just nods her head to your words, not really hearing them clearly. glancing around, she didn't know where she was. but she didn't really care at this particular moment right now. she didn't even notice you unzipping her jacket and pulling her shirt up so you could see the wound.

"alright. bite this." you put a bunched-up towel near her mouth, and she would question you if she wasn't on the verge of passing out, so she just bites down onto it, anxiously waiting for whatever you were going to do. "i'm really sorry if this hurts."

unfortunately, the bullet didn't go all the way through, which meant you had to struggle with getting it out of her. which then you had to clean the wound and bandage it up. by the time you were done, sophia had already passed out from the pain. but she was still breathing, which was good news.

after changing out of your suit, you walk back into the living room and sit on the floor in front of the coffee table, letting out a long sigh and dragging your hands over your face. "i'm gonna get killed for this," you mumble to yourself.

when sophia wakes up roughly ten minutes later, she looks around in confusion before her eyes land on you sitting on the ground on your phone. she tries to sit upright, but instantly feels a sharp pain and lets out a gasp making her lay back down. your head jerks up at the sound, quickly putting your phone down.

"hey," you say. "you probably shouldn't move a whole lot."

"where am i?" sophia asks, her eyes glancing around at the decor on the walls and the room.

"my place," you answer. "i didn't know where else to go. it was the closest place and i had the equipment to get the bullet out."

sophia's eyes land back on you, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "you got–" she stops herself, shaking her head. "why would you do that?"

"i couldn't exactly have you dying on the first mission i'm assigned with you," you shrug. "i don't want to get fired already."

despite your words, sophia can remember the look on your face when you were running with her in your arms, the words you kept saying to her. why were you acting like it wasn't a big deal now?

she nods her head slightly, looking back up at the ceiling. "thank you," she says. "i would've probably died."

"so you're admitting you needed me?" you reply, a smile growing on your face.

sophia rolls her eyes at your words, seeing your smile out of the corner of her sight. "whatever."

"it's okay, i know," you chuckle, standing up. "you should probably stay the night, you can't really get far right now," you tell her while walking around the coffee table to stand in front of her.

"are you serious?" she looks at you like you're crazy. "i think i'm fine." she shakes her head and tries to sit up again to feel the intense pain return, groaning quietly and slowly going back down on her back.

you watch her and let out a quiet sigh. "well?" you say, hands on your hips. "do you want me to get you to an actual comfortable bed or do you wanna stay on this shitty couch?"

sophia doesn't look at you, still staring at the ceiling as she bites her tongue to keep herself from saying something she shouldn't. "fine," she grumbles softly.

"that's what i thought." you lean down, carefully picking her up off the couch, her arms wrapping around your neck as you held her.

walking to your bedroom, you already had the covers pulled back on one side. you set her down on the bed, then taking a step back and standing there awkwardly. "uh, just holler for me if you need anything. i'll be on the couch," you tell her, turning around and starting to walk away.

you're stopped when sophia grabs your wrist, having you turn back around to look at her.

"you can sleep here too, it's your house," she says.

"i mean, i could, but you should–"

"just get in the fucking bed, yn." she cuts you off, looking at you with a look you hadn't seen on her before. her eyes not staring at you with the normal seriousness they always had, her expression not looking like she wanted to punch you in the face. not to mention her saying you're actually name for the first time, but you tried to push past that.

"okay." you reluctantly agree. walking to the other side of the bed, you climb in and keep a reasonable distance between you and sophia, your arms resting at your sides awkwardly.

"what the hell are you, a virgin? jesus christ," sophia sighs irritably, grabbing your arm and tugging you closer. she slowly rolls over onto her side to look at you now that you're closer to her. "thank you for helping me," she says quietly.

your body tenses up when she pulls you closer to her, moving along with it and glancing over at her when she speaks. "it's no problem." you shake your head. "i couldn't have you dying on me."

sophia nods. "right, because you would get fired. not because you were freaking out repeating i was gonna be okay or anything."

your face flushes at her words, not realizing that she had seen you panicking while running back to the apartment. "well, when you put it that way i sound like a idiot," you mumble.

"you are," she replies. "but, you saved me, and i appreciate that."

"of course." you nod. "don't worry about it. let's say we're even now?"

"mm," sophia hums, pretending to think about it for a moment. "yeah, i think we're even," she says, moving closer to you and draping her arm over you, situating her head between your neck and shoulder. "if you let me stay like this, then i'll forget about you trying to kill me."

your breath catches in your throat at her actions, a shiver going down your spine as she whispers against your skin, tickling you slightly. looking down at her, her eyes are closed and she looks peaceful, content. it had been a while since you'd been in this position, even if it was under good circumstances, causing your heart to beat faster trying to keep yourself together.

"you can stay like this for as long as you want," you respond. "i don't mind."

all that comes from sophia is a short hum and nothing else, and when you look down again, she's asleep. a small smile forms on your face at the sight, and you move a little bit so she could be more comfortable, resting your arm under your head while looking up at the ceiling. the blades spin slowly, and you find yourself finally feeling tired for once in a while. closing your eyes, you let out a short breath, allowing yourself to fall asleep now that everything was calm and quiet.

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Angstrom Levy plays his hand. You fuck it up. [Invincible Variants x reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3] [5] [7] [Chapter Index]

6 * Bad Dog [5.5k]

"Since all those lost years when I thought I was the monster,

It turns out I was really the prey

Masturbating and waiting for the raid,

And hating every little thing about you all the way!"

The Ruminant - Go Hang

        The acrid breeze makes his blue curtain of a mask flutter. "Give us our shit." You almost don't think it's Mark talking, his voice is so different, so stereotypically New York native.

        The man standing on solid air ignores him. Good eye sliding from one Mark to another. "You're down one."

        "We're down a lot more than that, numbnuts." Mohawk throws his arms out. Gesturing to the empty space where other Marks could have been, but weren't. 

        "To be expected. This reality is much more resilient than most." At that, the men surrounding him bristle.

        "You meant for us to die." Baldie accuses, crossed arms tensing with the need for violence. "You were never going to deliver."

        The man, Angstrom, though you don't quite know it yet, laughs. Holding a scarred finger out to point at you. "I have though, haven't I? More than half of you wished to see this one again."

        You are slack in the arms of your savior. Conscious but head spinning with the sudden change of atmosphere. It was a good thing none of them could see your face behind the mask, see that you were awake and biding your time. 

        But he knows you're awake. The one holding you, the warrior raised on Viltrum from birth. He feels your pulse pick up under his hands, hears the skip of your heart, the faint smell of fear induced sweat under your armor. The others aren't close enough to sense it, you hide your feelings well, play dead good as a possum, but he knows. And he tells nobody.

        "You've all had a turn, so I think my end has been delivered." He finishes.

        The one with a bare face looks at Angstrom, confused. "I have no idea who that is. Where's William?"

        "Yeah." Backs up the long masked one. "Like I'd even give a fuck about some... whatever." he waves his hand, uncaring to find a word for some insignificant bug.

        Despite the backlash, Angstrom smiles pleasantly. "I'm aware in your realities, you didn't know or care for (Y/n) (L/n). That is perfectly acceptable. Don't think I've forgotten about the deals we've all made. But to fulfill them, I'll need you to find this dimensions Mark Grayson and bring him to me."

        Eyes twitch. Lips curl.

        "No," Scars finally says. He looks to you in the arms of that straight-laced Viltrumites arms and barely contains a smirk. He's going to enjoy ripping you out of them. Tearing his arms off for touching you. "I've got what I want. I'm done with this place."

        "You are aware I could leave you here or somewhere worse, correct?" Angstrom doesn't sound the least bit concerned regarding the mounting tension. The cracking knuckles. The nasty grinning-snarls, thirsty for a little more blood. 

        "You won't." Lensless hums, "We'll kill ya before you get the chance."

         "Then we'd actually be stuck here forever, dumbass." Mohawk barks. "We'll just torture him instead, duh." 

        Angstrom rose a brow. "There's only one of her left in all existence, remember that before you threaten me."

        You are consumed by crackling green light that seems to statically stick to your armor. You are falling, then not, draped over Angstrom's arm like a coat. Still trying to play knocked out. "I have the perfect reality ready for her if any of you move." He says before you're settled. "Pit of man-eating octomen I've been starving for months, waiting right here." A ring of power encircles your body, not touching you but threatening with its presence. "Move and she's there."

        "I don't care, man." Long Mask says. 

        Angstrom ignores him. "Get me Mark Grayson."

        "You've got ten of him right here," Emperor says. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll drop it."

        Angstrom laughs, nastily. So hard he shakes you in his grip. "Am I dog now, Mister Grayson?"

        "You're no better than one," Emperor replies.

        "Look at you all- looking at me like you want me to die. After everything I've given you." Spit flies off Angstrom's lips, landing on your visor. "I met so many of you with snot dribbling out your noses over this thing," he jostles you in his grip as you grit your teeth, "this worthless animal who in so many dimensions joins your conquest. Just some regular human who adds absolutely nothing to nearly every timeline. I don't get the appeal, but I don't have to. Do as I say or she dies."

        You observe the Marks. Ready to pounce. To throw caution to the wind. Some are hesitant, actually using their brains but enough of are ready to fucking shred you think you might get eaten by whatever an octoman is.

        It leaves you with no other choice. It was just a bonus it'd get him to shut up. You were dead tired of hearing this guy's voice. Hearing any guy's voice.

        You let out a weak, groggy groan. Catch Angstrom's attention, which is all you need. Watch the grin spread across his busted face. "Look who's awak-"

        "Bite off your tongue." Blood comes out of your nose in such a rush it splattered against the inside of your helmet. Power ripped from you all at once, used on this guy you didn't know, but definitely didn't trust. 

        Drip, drop atop your helmet. Then came the rivers of blood down his chin. Weaving through his beard. Tongue stuck all the way out his mouth, teeth grinding down, down, down. Sawing, squelching. He blinks, tongue half removed from his mouth, when your hold snaps. A scream that was more a gargle, splatters more blood across your visitor. You're thrown, ass over heel.

        His words are thick with pain and a brand-new lisp as he says, "Bad dog!"

        The sickly green light surrounds you as a portal opens up behind your back, snapping shut before the closest version of your ex could reach you. The last thing you saw was him smiling with blood bubbling over his lips. 

        Your landing was surprisingly soft. Skidding to a slow stop on silky tan sand. Scrambling to your knees to see where the portal was. Gone. No green, just a cloudless, hazy sky. Sun fat in the sky. Beating down harsh on the black metal of your armor. Around you there is nothing but more sand and ruins of a society long forgotten. 

        You don't know what happened. Don't know how to process what happened. Calling out to the nothingness, "Bring me back!" To no reply or help at all.

        ***

        "You-!"

        Biting off your own tongue was something the deeply deranged and suicidal did. Despite that criteria, Angstrom Levy had never wanted to do such a thing, but there you'd been- making him do it. 

         He was in acute shock. Slow. Unable to dodge the hands grabbing him, the fists beating him, not with his tongue dangling half-cut out his mouth. Threats came pouring in quick as they were delivered. Ribs broken. Ligaments torn, good eye gone red with burst blood vessels. 

        It'd lasted thirty seconds, maybe less, but a voice cut through the violent haze. "We can't get her back if he's dead." Said the boy who killed his father and wore his cloak. God, if Freud were still around. 

        The words didn't calm them, but soothed the blows like a balm. Mohawk had him by the collar, choking him with it. "Open the portal, cocksucker."

        Angstrom rose a hand, the only one he had left after that Viltrumite loyalist chopped the other off. He let it open slow, teasingly so. Power roiling under his skin, revenge on the mind. They'd thought they'd had him down and out, but he was nowhere near dead. He never planned to keep them along for the full ride. The plan was always to betray them. This was much sooner, and much bloodier, than planned. So be it. 

        "There." He heaved. They turned, looking into the opening to a new world. A world so dry it'd evaporate the marrow out of your bones. 

        Phantom didn't speak. Just shot his black and blue body through. One down, nine to go. 

        "That world," he begins, tongue awkwardly flailing over the bottom of his mouth, blood spilling down his throat just to be hacked out, "-that world has major time dilation. She could be very far from the origin point by now. Miles. It'll take him too long to find her... I can't-" He let the portal waiver, looking unstable, "I can't hold it long."

        "You can and you will." The ex-prisoner grabbed him by the balls. Through Angstrom's pants but still. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. 

        If guilt tripping wouldn't work, he had no other choice. "Wait... I can.. I think I've found her." More portals zap open all around him. Nine in total. "Do you see?" They turn, just to watch the portals shoot closer, swallowing them all whole before snapping shut. Leaving them to fall in the sand and Angstrom alone to his devices. 

        ***

        You'd tried it all. Screaming. Looking for an exit. Digging. Trying to call someone, anyone on your phone that had not a bar. All while the sun beat at your back. You didn't give up, not really, just resigned to moving somewhere else. Powers, you knew, were stupid. Angstrom could find you again even if you'd left the dropoff.

        You walked. Migraine gnawing at your temples. Power stores drained out. Boots dragged in the sand, prints sifting away as soon as they were made. Moved from wreck to wreck for the tiniest slivers of shade. Baked inside your helmet until you popped it off, wiping at the drying blood with your gloves. When there was a breeze, it felt like a hairdryer, making your eyes water.

       Two hours, you'd walked to find nothing.

       The sun moved slow, the sky fading to a dull purple, but you knew the second it dipped below the dunes, you'd be dead without a fire. Deserts don't stay hot without sun. Planks were easy come by, old wood waiting to disintegrate into the sand. You rooted through the tool belt attached to the body armor. Tear gas, a high-powered taser, a flare, a knife, ammo for a gun you didn't have, and a to-go first aid kit. 

        You tried the taser on the wood. It made the old thing crumble in your hands. You tried again to the same result. Again and again as the sun crossed the sky and the heat began to ebb. 

        ***

        He flew through the desert, combing it in a gird. Square mile by square mile, searching. Growing more desperate by the second. Head filling with what if's. 

        It's faint, a mere vibration in his left ear. He banks hard. Following. Forcing his hearing to it's limit- catching grains shifting below his flight path. Then it comes again. Audible this time. Bzzt. Lil more to the left. Bzzzzt! Not long now. He starts to slow right as the sound pinged from below. BZZZT!

        "Fuck you, motherfucker." Came out from a line of beams fallen together to make a concrete tent.

        He landed gently, trying not to make a dust cloud and scare you away. Watching your back as you tried to light a plank ablaze with a taser. It crumbled in your hands. You scoff, kicking debris into a cloud that makes you violently cough. 

        You could turn and see him. Husky purple dusk not yet camouflaging his blue-black body suit. But you don't. Instead, you keep trying to tase the remaining sawdust into flames. It doesn't work. 

        He floats above the sand, slowly rolling into your view. 

        ***

        Chaos. Total, absolute, chaos.

        Nine of them in the middle of some desert planet, tenth fucked off God knows where. No Angstrom to take them out. No (Y/n) to soften the blow. The rage settled in like a beat behind their eyes, a thrum under their fingerpads. They wanted to choke each other for existing. 

        Their personal genie had betrayed them, left them for dead. 

        He wasn't the first to blast off into the desert. Searching for a way out, for you. He was, however, first to shoot into the sky for a birdseye view. The atmosphere thinned, going from an ugly yellow to the familiar dark of space. Above the sphere, he hovered, seeing only sand. Around the planet he went, hoping, then finding those hopes were something juvenile. 

        The search extended into space. For other planets. He noticed then, flying through the cold dark there were no stars or gas giants or distant worlds. Only the planet they landed on and the too-close sun. 

        As if Angstrom Levy had found the one reality in all of existence with one dead world. One big, sandy, uninhabitable world. The perfect place for them all to die. The search could be expanded later, with more of them looking, but he doubted even their Viltrumite bodies could reach any planets if he couldn't see them. 

        He was angry, but couldn't fault the guy. He was going to rip off Angstrom's balls after all. He'd find a way out of this, the same way he'd found a way out of that hell of a Viltrumite prison. Scarred beyond recognition. Coming home to find the love of his life dead and long buried. 

        Except that now you were down on that sandball, somewhere. Hopefully alive. So why was he angsting up in space? 

        ***

        The taser shot out, connecting thick prongs to his suit. Electricity traveled fast through the carbon fiber, penetrating to his skin. He didn't seize and drop. He took it like he was nothing but thin air, like you were imagining him in a wave of heat induced hysteria.

        The prongs retracted and he took that as cue to step down into your concrete hut. Coming closer, slow, hands up over his chest like he wasn't going to hurt you- as if you'd believe that.

        You hear it. Something moving so fast the air splits around you. 

        You don't know what you're going to do. Shout? Duck? Gasp? You don't get to decide because he's on you. Holding you hard against himself, feet inches off the ground, hand pressed firm over your mouth. Head tracking the sonic spec in the sky as it passed over. When the coast is clear, he sets you down and backs off. Not leaving your nothing of a camp, but any space willing given by these freaks was noticeable. 

        "Leave." Power doesn't even bother to tickle your throat. You had jackshit left. Wouldn’t have jackshit for days if your luck stayed bad. You'd only blown yourself out like this one time- that day at the beginning of the end of your life. You'd never used your power on someone else powered before. Barley used it period. Only on little, meaningless, petty things. Until you used it all at once to save his life. Then on him. Blowing out you out like a tire. Failing. 

        Now you were here. Staring at a fully masked version of him, unable to control him or your life again. 

        Yet you try, "Go." The taser finds its home in your belt, replaced by the tear gas canister held over your head. "Or I'll set this fucking bomb off if you get any closer." It's a lie so obvious you couldn’t put your chest behind it. "I'll kill us both, I swear to God."        

         He doesn’t move. Your helmet sits on the ground at your feet. You wonder how fast you could set the tear gas off and put the thing back on. If the GDA-enhanced tear gas would make you go blind.

        As you fingered the pin, he pulled something from his belt. A short, metal pin. He approaches the pile of wood you’d made. You back up, knowing he'd catch you if you ran. Knowing you didn't have energy for any more running. He cracks the metal against a shred of concrete. Sparks rained down on the dry material and then there was fire. Small but as he stepped back, blaze growing. 

        Technically, you knew what he was doing. Starting a fire so you wouldn’t freeze to death, the breeze as the sun went down already cool. But mentally? You had no idea what he wanted. You knew that he was one of the ones that asked for you, that knew some version of you and decided thousands dead was worth it. Even though he was the first to your side on multiple occasions, you couldn’t know what he wanted. If he wanted something in exchange.

        The sky had gone a deep gray. Cold settling in between the sand dunes like an old bone's ache. You could leave, but the growing fire was your one and only shot of living. Just a guess, but the taser thing wasn’t going to work. 

        "What do you want?" You asked, shuffling closer. Still gripping the tear gas hard, reared over your shoulder like a weapon. "Tell me or I'll set it off."

        "I'm not going to hurt you." Through that demon of a modulator, you catch a softness, Mark whispering a secret he hadn’t told anyone else. More genuine than you’d heard from any of these alternates. 

        "How do I know you're not lying?" But there is no reply, and you don’t think he is. He's done talking and you're done fighting. 

        He sits first. On the edge of an uneven slab, leaving plenty of room for you. You watch him carefully. Sure he's going to lunge, a lurking predator luring you into a false sense of safety. So you lean against the wall instead, watching him and the fire. 

        He does lunge eventually, ten minutes later. Dashing forth to stomp out the fire as another body streaks across the sky. Tense as you both watched it go by. Waiting until there’s nothing but the night. Then he was back on his knees, cracking the stick onto new planks.

        "What is that?" You're still standing. Arm lifting the canister overhead once again.

        He looks up from the fire at you. Black going brown in the light. Tentatively, tortuously, and against every nerve in your body, you sit. Slip the tear gas canister back into your belt. Hoping he'd talk if you seemed a little less hostile. 

       "Tell me where I am. Who the fuck was that?" 

      You’re not shocked when he says nothing, only annoyed by your acceptance of it. He can’t bring himself to ruin this moment with you, finally alone. Hearing your voice, even angry, was like an angel’s song for the damned. Your face like something out a dream. Any nervous tics, little movements, shifts in your weight, was studied and tucked away to categorize and compare to what he knew. 

        You at seventeen, nervous and shy and sweet. Could you have become this bitter thing had you lived? Surely not. He'd have made sure you were taken care of. Made you into a wife with nothing to fret over. He hates him. The Mark of your dimension. Wants to turn him inside out for letting whatever happened to you- happen.

        You watched him right back with no knowledge of what his gaze meant. None of the same interest, but watching for the same things, instincts of being prey. Wondering when the slowly stalking fox was going to pounce, if the gaze was a challenge. In the thickening night, he was starting to blend in. You could still see his outline and the dark lenses reflecting back your stare. You try to look past them but can't, can't read anything from the blank, dark slate. You look away, wanting a momentary reprieve, backing down from the challenge. Movement. Your gaze right back, tense all over. Hand on the taser holster.

       The mask is off. Chin up, he is bare. There is stubble dark on his jaw, skin paler than you recalled Mark ever being, his hair a shaggy mess that hung past his ears, eye bags deep, nearly purple. He was Mark, no surprise there, the surprise was the slate blue of his eyes. Just like his father's. 

        You pull the taser out, but not wanting to escalate further, voice almost a whisper after you’d grown used to the quiet. "What do you want?" He looks up at you under dark brows and long lashes. It reminds you so much of your Mark you want to strike him, but think better of it. "Answer me." 

        It comes out breathy, hardly audible. "I just-" Two syllables and his voice breaks. Cracks right down the middle. He shuts his mouth, hand going to his throat, thumb massaging. He swallows, tries again but all that comes out is a hoarse sigh. His brows knit in frustration. He’d talked more than he was used to in the past few days, and with the dry air and nerves, what was left of his vocal cords wasn’t going to cooperate. 

        You don’t know what’s wrong with him, but now you understand why he wore that modulator.

        The mask goes back on. He's given up trying to talk, trying to show his belly like he wasn't a threat. You suspect violence, harassment, almost get up anticipating it, but it doesn't come. You're about to settle down when the ground shudders just outside your camp. You don't get the chance to check what it was because it steps inside between the concrete pillars.

        "We've been working together to find a way out of this shithole and here you two've been, love shackin' it up." His mask flutters in front of his face as he talks. Sand stuck to his tracksuit where blood had wet it. "Jesus, yer lucky I found you. Those other dudes have been losing they's fuckin' minds."

        Phantom rises, dashing the small fire away. He'd know his alone time with you would be short. They'd find you both eventually, but he was glad to have had it. Even if you looked at him with such disdain. For so many years, that's all he wanted. His voice failing him was punishment for letting you die, for letting this version of you get stuck in an unending desert. He'd make it up to you. Find a voice to say what needed to be said.

        He steps towards the other. Long mask, long face, you don't quite know what to mentally call him yet- steps back. Making room for Phantom to exit the ruin. 

        "I'm not leaving." You tell the newcomer, though you grab the helmet. To throw at him? To cover your head from the cold now that the fire couldn't ward it off? 

        "You dunno if I've found a way out or not and yer just gonna act like that?" His laugh is humorless, "Glad we weren’t a thing in my world."

        Behind him, Phantom jerks his head, a 'come' gesture. Wind, not a breeze, cuts through the dunes and sends winter cold through the cracks in your armor. Settles under the fabric, making you shiver. 

        "Do you have a way out?" You demand.

        "Would'a left your ass behind if I did." He says, stepping further back. Annoyed but understanding you wouldn’t come within a certain distance; despite how fast he could liberate your head from your shoulders. "Come on," he lifts inches off the ground, "the longer you're gone the edgier those shitheads get. I can't take it anymore." 

        You really, really, really did not want to see any of them. You look back to your concrete shack. But. Survival is easier in groups, right? You know what else is easier in groups? Mass murder. The second you got your powers back, you were taking them out like you'd set out to do. Sure, you'd probably only kill one or two more of them but it'd be enough to kill Mark Grayson four times before you went to hell. Only then did eternity of torture sound bearable.

        You also couldn't make a fire, it was freezing, you had no food and you'd be starving soon, and you had nothing to drink but codeine, which was a bad idea. 

       Phantom waited for you on the ground. Tracksuit, ah there's that convenient nickname, hovered low in the sky waiting. "Let's go already." You can't fly and something tells you Tracksuit isn't willing to walk however many miles it is back to camp. 

        Phantom taps his masked cheek. At first you're disgusted, thinking he wants you to lay one on him but realize, he's telling you to put the helmet on. You'd seen those old stories of superhuman and regular-Joe-human romances going bad because their lover flew too fast and all the human's skin was flayed off. You didn't want to go to the others, but you really didn't want to go without skin.

        You put the helmet on and he moves towards you. Slower than the first time he scooped you up and took you to the sky. He definitely felt bad about dropping you. Elbows move under knees, strong hand supporting your back. Lifting off gently this time. Accelerating slowly enough for Tracksuit to scoff and shout, "Dude, move it!"

        You'd never been flying like this. Before, it was too quick to process, too much adrenaline. Now you were burnt out and empty enough to actually process the passing dunes. To feel your body relying on his for support. You would have liked it, really, if it wasn't one of the crazy Marks- which was pretty much all of them. Horrified at any time he'd drop you or dangle you by an ankle until you cried, "Uncle." He hadn't seemed the type, but he also ripped off Psychopomp's arms the second time you met him. He wasn't as forward as the others, which made him less predictable. 

        The whole flight you were scared shitless, because the second it was over, things were only going to get worse. The bright side was, things were always awful before they got better. Thinking about killing Mark calmed you down a fraction.        

        Even in the distance, you could see the camp. No mountains to hide its orange glow. The only thing of note for miles upon miles. 

        Tracksuit sighed with relief, "Thank God." He shot forward, gone, leaving you and Phantom to meander along. You'd noticed he'd significantly slowed. Sucking up all the remaining alone time with you he could get. Hovering hundreds of feet over a massive bonfire. Figures below, waiting with baited breath. 

        Phantom contemplates the success rate of leaving. Running with you. Surviving alone together. His black boots touch down on the sand. He sets you down, keeping a hand at your back as you wobble to your feet. Unaccustomed to flying. Human heart fluttering in your chest.

        You get no peace or relief. 

        Just Mohawk flying forward and almost knocking you over "Dickhead," he hissed before his fist sent Phantom careening into the desert night. Phantom catches himself, but stays further back, hidden in the dark. It was chilly but this planet was nothing compared to the vacuum of space. To what his life had been before seeing you again. The fire, here and there, were for you. Warmth and signal. He would keep watch from the shadows. 

        The perpetrator turns to you, sand stuck in his mohawk. "You good?"

        You don't meet his eye. Opting to stumble closer to the bonfire, trying to avoid eye contact with the Marks standing around.

        "I thought you'd need it," Omni-Wannabe says. 

        "Where are we?" You stare into it. Hoping they don't notice the answers aren't forced out of them. That they don't piece together the only reason you're not going batshit is because you're powerless.

        "A desert," Lensless kicks at the sand, "Duh."

        "What desert?" It's hard to keep the venom out of your voice. 

        Emperor stretches his legs over a rock. Leaning back in his low earthy chair, looking like he meant to be stranded. "You tell me. You're the one who got us trapped here."

        You don't bite the bait. You can't fight back, so opening your big mouth is the last thing you should do. But he's looking at you like he wants to chop you to pieces. You go for fawning but not too out of character. "Wasn't expecting anyone to end up here with me."

        Under the yellow fabric, his brow twitches. "After all the chasing and defending, you didn't expect backup?"

        "I didn't ask for backup." You say, "I have no idea what's going on. One second I'm working, the next this guy," your arm gestures to Mohawk who grins, "is beating the shit out of my boss."

        Emperor's muscles tighten. You'd said the wrong thing. Towed the line too willy-nilly. He says, "You really must be dumber in this world if you haven't figured it out yet. Don't speak to me until you do." And goes back to watching the fire.

        Crisis averted.

        Somebody thinks it's a good idea to rest their fat, meaty hand on your shoulder and say, "Are you okay?"

        When you turn it's the bald one. Wearing an expression you think is concern.

        You can't help moving away and snapping, "Get off." 

        "D'aww, somebody mad their geriatric handler didn't pick them up?" Scars is right behind you. Not close enough to touch, but too close for comfort. He could push you into the fire and you'd be roast dinner. "Not expecting to deal with the consequences of your actions, were you?"

        This time, for real, you hold your tongue. Stuck straight to the roof of your mouth. You are not fucking with this guy.

        He touches you the same place Baldie did. You're scared to shove him off. Baldie was a mistake, one that could've gotten you killed. Scars would be a mistake that would get you killed. 

        "Hey, look, she's afraid of me!" He announced like it was an honor. "That's a smart girl, but where's that fighting spirit? Come on, I wanna see you try n' hurt me again."

        You don't reply. Don't move. Don't breathe. 

        "Your heart just skipped a beat, there, Dregs. Don't tell me you're gonna avoid me by killing yourself again." His fingers tighten on your shoulder. Nearly bruising. "I won't let it happen again." He's masking his anger being here with nine of himself by playing with you. Relieving stress. 

        "You're wasting your energy antagonizing her." The grip lightens immediately, someone else to play with. Scars' violent attention turned toward the bare baby-faced version of himself. 

        "You telling me what to do?" Tension cracked off his split lip.        

        "No." The other says evenly, "But we're stuck in an alien desert. Now's not the time to pull some master-slave dynamic bullshit on some girl you don't even know. Be smart."

        Scars slipped around you, prowling toward the sat man. "And how do you suggest I 'be smart'." 

        He started counting off on his fingers, "Get more firewood if you don't want her to freeze to death. Search ruins for something that could get us out. Look for food. Rest, conserve energy, because we don't know how long we'll be stuck here. My guess is until we get ourselves out because there's no way Angstrom is coming back for us."

        "He will," Lensless says with unwarranted confidence. "He has to know we'll find him and kill 'im. It's dumber to let us be mad n' stuff."        

        Maskless shakes his head. "He chose this planet because he expects us to die. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not fighting you guys over some human I don't know. If you're smart, you'll do the same." He slides off the rock and lies himself sideways in the sand. Head propped on his elbow like a pillow. "At least shut up or go to sleep so you can kill echother quicker tomorrow."

        Scars took two steps toward him before an arm jutted out, stopping him. Omni-Mark stood between the two like a wall. "He's right. We should sleep while it's cool. Search more tomorrow."

        "Who said you're in charge?" Emperor snipped despite being deeply unhelpful.

        "I'm not trying to be," he said, "it's just a suggestion."

        One you take. Moving away to the other side of the blaze while their bickering went on and on. You sat on a rusted pipe. Maskless a few feet to your right, brow furrowed but eyes closed. The Viltrumite to your left, arms folded behind his back. Posture painfully straight. His eyes flick over to you, head not moving. 

        You don't see it, but he's content with the situation at hand- for now. He could take the others. Savvy enough to survive in the harshest conditions where the others surely weren't. He'd conquered harsher planets than this without help. Atop of all that, you were choosing to be by his side. That is enough for him, for the moment.

[tackykachowch]

Jinx's appearance in s2 ep9 is a tragedy for her character. The writing throughout the season already tried its best to destroy absolutely everything meaningful to her and who she is at her core, and now we get the chance to see it visually.

I'll get this out of the way so nobody bothers me about it later: yes, I personally hate the design overall. But despite that if it was truthful to her character and reflected her journey well I wouldn't even squeak. Well, maybe one tiny time, but not make a whole post about it.

Alright, so right now I'm going to lign up all 3 of her designs and compare them in a sense how they represent Jinx as a character. I apologize for using The Wild Rift model because it's actual hell to find her s2 ep9 look in good quality and with a good view of the details.

There's a pretty stark difference between Powder and Jinx. The only element they share is gloves, but on Jinx they are modified and have a different color. There are however also similiar "motifs"(?), like purple stripes on clothes, Jinx's belts are positioned in a way that mirrors Powder's blue...thing on her pants; also Powder has a small braid on the side of her head, as well as golden hairpins, while Jinx has two braids that are waaay longer, but she still has golden elements that support her braids.

Now, the differences. Powder's clothes are layered and are made from different fabrics, covering almost her entire body. This represents that she's a shy, frightly girl with very low self-esteem. Jinx, on the other hand, has waaay more open skin, even to a somewhat inappropriate degree. This shows us that she became confident and doesn't care what others think of her, maybe even to a fault. Her boots in some way resemble jester's shoes, showing us her more light-hearted attitude, especially towards violence.

Also, unlike Powder, who only ever shot from a toy gun and made bombs that didn't work, Jinx is a prodigy bomb maker and a master shooter with (what seems like) a hand-made pistol, and on top of that has an also self-made machine gun. So from all of this we can pick up that this is the same person, but she changed in a huge way, hence why even her name is different.

Now, onto the Jinx we see in s2 ep9. She cut off her braids, colored streaks of her hair, especially on the bang, replaced her pants, top, and belts, made herself a hood, painted over her tattoos with x-es and Ekko's symbols, fused her machine gun with Fishbones, her recently made rocket launcher (ignore the wild rift picture for this part), and completely remade her pistol. The only things that carry over from her previous outfit are gloves, boots (which are now fully laced), her necklace aaaand yeah that's it. Motifs are left the same, except for her hair of course.

Now, I want to talk about a couple of elements in detail. Her hood is made from unknown material, and resembles some kind of monster, rather than a monkey, raven or shark, her previously established symbols. Like someone pointed out, it probably resembles drawings on Isha's helmet.

Also Jinx has pink markings under her eyes, just like Powder from Ekko's vision in season 1 ep7.

The bandages that replace her top are the same ones Vi has.

So, with all of that information, what can we tell about Jinx at the end of her journey? The obvious answer is that she decided to move on, but in what way? Accepting both "Powder" and "Jinx" parts of her? But then why did she paint over her tattoos? Something permanent, that shows how irreversibly she changed over the years, and will never become the same girl again? Moreover, why didn't she make the new tattoos, pink bullets? Yes yes, pink bullets. Both LoL Jinx and even s2 ep9 skin for Jinx in The Wild Rift have pink bullets tattoos, but arcane Jinx doesn't. Why tho? Well, of course, it's our good ol' pal Silco erasure. Because, you see, Jinx killed Silco with her Pow-Pow, and when she shoots with it, the bullets are seen as pink projectiles. So, not only does Jinx figuratively want to "paint over" her past with Silco, she also in no way wants to capture what she did to him and that in the very same night she finally accepted herself as Jinx. Of course we know that s2 writers didn't want to follow up on this decision, but adding a couple of effects onto her model isn't that big of a job. Anyway

Why did she go back to covering her legs entirely? Is she more careful now, orrr perhaps she seeks protection from someone? No. Why does she have paint all over her, and Ekko's symbols in particular? Is she a part of the Firelights now? Even if that's the case, it was never confirmed on screen. Why did she completely change her haircut, only leaving a bang? I guess hair holds the memories or whatever, so to start a new life you shouldn't have any memories of the previous one? Idk. Why did she replace her top with bandages like Vi's, if the last time they saw each other Jinx told Vi to let her go and forget about her? Idk. Why did she fuse Pow-Pow and Fishbones together? Idk.

The only things I more or less don't question are the hood and markings, but then again, I'm not really happy with the fact that we see Jinx in them in her "last" moments either. That's the part of my biggest problem with all of this, actually. It took around 10 years for Jinx to have such a big difference in how she looks, but the latest change happened literally overnight. No matter how you try to explain this, this is objectively terrible writing. In less than one episode the main character of the series drastically changed her appearance in ways that should tell us about a big character development, but we didn't get a chance to see any of it. Not the process, nor the development itself, because Jinx behaves in ep9 the same way she behaves in the rest of s2.

So, what was that all about? I guess they wanted to fill out the quota of a minimum of two outfit changes per season, but it's in no way justified within the show. And that's why this is a tragedy. Jinx went from the most well-written character in the show with incredible design and conflict to the writer's toy which only function is to be sacrificed.

[the-shifting-long]

like tying back to fandom misogyny (i know i know i've been on it for a while i'm sorry) not only is so much of the language around the hatred for Tower/the Shifting Mound misogynistic and, when people aren't straight up calling them bitches or saying they'd be more attractive if [x] or treating them like Objects, Prizes, Romantic Interests and saying they're Bad Princesses and the Worst Romance and the worst wife/prize compared to other princesses like the precious wecious Thorn and HEA and Damsel or whatever

they're mad at Tower/Shifty for a lot of the Exact Same Reasons they love Voices.

like the Opportunist abuses his power every time he has is, actively lies to others (though he isn't very good at it.) He is #1 Princess Stabber/Killer/Slayer. when he doesn't want to kill her, it's because he's getting something out of her. but he's a Male Character whose trauma is #valid unlike Tower who also likes to abuse her power to get something from the player and who was (checks notes) locked in a basement and then attacked with a knife by the first person she met.

Cold is another big proponent of "what if we stabbed her/killed her." and constantly shows up when you commit acts of horrible cruelty to the princess but he's a Male Character and him wanting to exorcise the Spectre was sexy and not like, a horrifying moment where she freaked out and wanted nothing more than to get away from him. him being unempathetic and generally uncaring/numb is a Fun Character Trait unlike the literal goddess of death Shifty. cold is great but the woman he's so similar to and who is, in many ways, kinder than he is? yeah she's rude and arrogant we hate her.

Contrarian is often so cruel to the Princess, doesn't really give a shit about her, is there for a laugh, and only regrets what he's done after he's gone way too far (Advy-Fury, Stranger...) and "too far" often means Literally Killing Her For a Laugh or multiplying her until the world itself collapses and she's a frankenstein of half-dead half-alive beings. so it's no surprise he considers himself "the worst part of us" but also he's FUNNY he throws the KNIFE OUT THE WINDOW he's a great character unlike Tower or Fury or Nightmare who toy with us the player! They're so fucking mean and unjustified and go way too far! Their buried pain is nothing while Contra's is valid <3

And then Stubborn! In the majority of chapters he appears in, he wants nothing more than to kill/fight the princess. Wild and Advy are the only exceptions...and Advy isn't an exception at all, just the only circumstance where the Princess actively wants an equal challenger and isn't permanently hurt by the fights the two get into. She's the only princess he cares about, and she's just like him. But yeah no Tower's selfish and the Shifting Mound wanting to fight us forever sucks and is rude but Stubborn? he's a badass he's awesome <3

i'm not going to get into All of the Voices because some of them are less inclined to violence than others, and lash out in different or more understandable ways, but so many of the voices above are fan favorites and they do just...horrible things to the Princess (by supporting a player who chooses to do the horrible things those Voices want to do, of course, and sometimes by acting on their own!)

and to be clear. I DO LIKE THE VOICES. but part of why i like them is BECAUSE they suck! they act in horrible ways that mirror the player's actions, the princess' actions, and when the bar is on the ground they'll help the player dig! it's fascinating!

but i also really like the princess-i like them way more than the voices-and think it's so blatantly hypocritical to hate on said Princesses for doing a lot of the same shit the Voices do for what are honestly much more understandable reasons. the voices are on a path in the woods and get a cool knife. the princess is locked in the basement of a cabin with no way out. these situations are not the same.

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

BSD Dead Apple manga highlights!!

Kunikida is insane. "Oh yeah getting shot in the gut is no big deal dwai" and then he proceeds to run around and fight both his own Ability and Demon Snow after this. Jesus.

Kunikida's so resourceful tbh. I love watching him fight. Akutagawa's later fight with Rashoumon (where he demonstrates similar resourcefulness using the molten metal) is also cool for the same reason, because like it's one thing to be TOLD these characters are cool under pressure and smart as long as Dazai's not there to piss them off and a whole other to be shown it.

SO THIS CONFIRMS MY THEORY. I need a fight scene where Yosano detaches her limbs and uses them as weapons after she heals them omg she's so fucking badass. Side note the fact that Kenji and Yosano held up so long against their Abilities is so impressive? Like all of them are ofc but Undefeated and Thou Shalt Not Die are both like, extremely powerful. Your fighting a power that rearranged a mountain and a power that basically can't be killed. Like damn.

Lmfao Akutagawa's main priority is watching their Abilities fight each other

D A S H

I love how casually he says this lmfaoo Also LMAO AKUTAGAWA DO U HAVE SOME UNRESOLVED FEELINGS TOWARDS DAZAI OR SOMETHING?? HMM??

Confirmation Dazai fucking hates both of them. He was probably tearing his hair out internally this whole time. Literally him going "friendless behavior" at Shibusawa lmao- ALSO THE 'MEOW EXCHANGE. HE ACTUALLY MEOWED. THIS IS SO FUCKING DRY LMFAO.

Akutagawa's monologue is conveyed in a really cool way via manga adaptation... like DA has some great development for Akutagawa, Kyouka and Atsushi, but Akutagawa's in particular stands out to me because it doesn't really disprove his strength-based worldview?? He finds his own self worth through that view instead which is interesting, by overpowering his Ability instead of finding somewhere he's valued beyond it like say, Yosano.

This is also SUCH an interesting panel. "That I control Demon Snow/That I didn't want to hate her" it's like Atsushi has previously only seen Kyouka as a victim, as being controlled against her will and never wanting any of the violence she partook in when this kinda... confirms it's not all the case? DA as a whole kinda tries to break Atsushi's black and white worldview but I also think, between this and how well Akutagawa and Kyouka work together in DA, there was likely a part of Kyouka who knew she was good at killing and violence, and liked that about herself, if nothing else. The ability to not be completely helpless, even if her circumstances as a whole were not within her control.

"Are you fucking serious" he is SO DONE with Dazai's shit lmfao.

Soukoku are fucking insane. What do you MEAN you noticed Dazai's hidden message from a mention of a microscope. What do you mean you remember all your interactions with him that clearly. What do you mean-

Ohh my fucking god is that a tear in the last panel?? Oh my god did Chuuya mean he just doesn't want Dazai to stop him in Corruption. Chuuya cannot catch a fucking BREAK oh my god.

So Ango is also suicidal right?? Like sure he has a reason for saying this but also this is not a normal thing to say. He uses Chuuya's vow to kill him to try and stop Chuuya from what he sees as a suicidal mission later. Like this is not normal.

"Dazai doesn't care about the ADA!" shut the fuck up

Oh my god. This was so fucked up oh my god. Poor baby Atsushi oh my god.

The repetition of "I raised by claws" is SO chilling here omg. But I also find it so so interesting that I think Atsushi is... the only BSD character who just... wants to live. Not for other people, he definitely doesn't want to die. Like so many characters in BSD (Dazai, Yosano, Chuuya, Kunikida, Kyouka, Ango, arguably Akutagawa) are in some manner suicidal, or even the ones who aren't have reasons they life for. But Atsushi's base desire is just... he wants to live. That's where his Ability comes from. It's why he killed Shibusawa. It's so interesting.

So there are two sides to Fyodor's Ability. But he CALLS HIMSELF crime in this case?? Bc the Crime avatar is wearing what Fyodor was wearing. I've seen theories Fyodor himself is just the manifestation of his own Ability or something and tbh... that might have merit.

Tbh, I often wonder how Ango ended up working with the government. It's repeatedly mentioned how he dislikes and opposes their use of human lives as value metrics, or plans like this for the 'greater good', and yet he still does their bidding. He's still here. Even though no one listens to his oppositions. Why?

Anyway so if anyone has manga translations past Ch 13 please help I can't find any lol.

[moonsglare]

unironically i view you as the arlecchino and kujou sara wiki page, cause all your analyses are just so well done. also, i take happiness knowing the animatic also broke your heart as well cause i had to replay that animatic 15 times cause it was that awesomeballs... might be my #1 animatic... also omg first time i seen an arle fan say that she is part of the cycle of abuse, i think when you tell other fans that arle is inevitably a preperator in the cycle, people assume that you are just suggesting she is abusing the children in a similar fashion of that of the previous mother. to me, her abuse is neccesary in the sense that she can't escape the cycle but she can and will help her children escape it. at least thats how i understood it. each time i cry, just thinking that lynette, lyney and freminet will escape the cycle and make the house of hearth truly a warm and soft house but arlecchino won't be able to part of it. like i need a gun... also bit unrelated but in lyney's troubles: dove voiceline he tells a story where he used to set free the doves he raised and usually all of them returned back to him, but few didn't return back one time and he later found them dead after he tracked them down. and he expresses how he still faces difficulty on how to give both freedom and safety. which is such a direct parallel to arlecchino, literally sick in the stomach.. like the question of how free do you let your children be while also making sure they stay safe? LORD I NEED TO JUMP OFF

yeah i mean to me avoiding acknowledging that arlecchino is still very much participating in the perpetuation of violence in the hearth would be a disservice to her character. of course she's not cruel for cruelty's sake like crucabena was, but the house still isn't a safe place for children by any measure. in her animated teaser, she (albeit not intentionally) sent a teenager to her death. there are still choices she makes that she believes are necessary that result in children being hurt or killed. that isn't to say she doesn't care; she does care, as we see in the way she hunts down the noblewoman who killed her daughter without a care about the possible consequences, and how she developed a 'memory wipe procedure' for the children who wanted to live alongside dottore, who she hates. but no amount of caring erases or absolves what she's done, and what she's doing—and that's a conflict she struggles with in silence.

she does, of course, do her best to be better. she's firm, but not cruel. gentle, but not so much as to be a pushover. she does what she can to make an institution built on foundations of abuse into something that can just barely pass for a house. she teaches her children how to protect themselves, she nourishes their interests, she keeps them as safe as she can—all so that one day it will be them who truly turns this house into a home. and to me all this is what makes her so, so special in my eyes. at her very core arlecchino is someone who loves, and someone who hopes, even when the world has given her every reason not to. she has her hopes on a gentler future, even if it's one she believes she has no part in, or that she simply may never get to see. there's just so much nuance to her and i truly love her so much it's probably unhealthy sdkjfhskjf

also i am very honored to be considered an arle and kjsr wiki dhjfdk i will do my best to ensure that faith isn't misplaced o7

[illmetkismet]

Leon in re4r has to be the most touchy feely goober i have seen yet.

I find it so endearing when he goes to comfort Ashley and also like in general the way he was with Luis when he was dying is just 😭

I think he's just very touch starved. What do you think? :)

i got this ask in the morning and i was like, 'i gotta think about this....' and i've been thinking about it all day because..... there's so much going on with leon and touch....

both with ashley and luis he doesn't let himself touch - really touch, the way he wants, to take their hand and hold on - until the situation is desperate. luis is dying, and ashley is in so much pain she's screaming with it. look how scared leon looks:

the halfhearted pat, pat, 'ok', he does in response to her hug later, when he wakes up and sees that she's alright, is such an interesting contrast. she's fine, she's alive, and now he doesn't have an excuse anymore, you know? he's not overcome with worry or grief. he's reigned himself right back in.

even here, where ashley's panting and almost crying after they run from the ganados into the cabin:

he lets himself rest a hand on her shoulder to comfort her and check in for like a second, because she's clearly very distressed, before he turns to deal with luis.

he does allow himself casual little touches here and there, when the situation calls for it. again, it's when ashley is really upset after the mind control incident that he lets himself give her that encouraging pat on the shoulder:

or when she's unconscious and he just administered the suppressant, and he needs to reassure himself that she's going to be ok:

so yeah, he's 100% touch starved, but i don't think he realizes it. the frequency with which he does reach out in re4r, however briefly, makes me think that he was probably a lot quicker to touch, to hug, to hold on, before raccoon city (his little bright-eyed rookie face makes me think that for sure). but after? there's this sense i think he has about himself that there's something wrong with him. that he survived something horrible against all odds, and now he's in this awful line of work - all the things he sees, all the people who keep dying around him - and it feels like he's carefully trying to contain himself, to isolate, to keep others safe from... whatever it is that's wrong with him now. like maybe he thinks of himself as cursed, somehow?

there's that tidbit i remember reading in a post @highball66 made, where one of leon's hobbies is listed as watching movies alone in the dark. on the one hand, cute and cozy! but on the other hand, is the 'alone' part really by choice?

so yeah, i think his natural inclination is to be a touchy feely goober, as you say, but he's almost all but killed that instinct in himself. now it takes extraordinary circumstances for him to reach out: either a situation where he needs to offer reassurance and understands that words alone won't do, or something so terrible happens that it overwhelms him to the point where he slips and doesn't keep his genuine need to reach out in check. which is.... so sad. because the only other way we see him touch in re4r is with violence, or to menace. his fist on luis' chest, pushing him back against the wall until he winces, for example. leon's been trained to leverage his strength to do harm, and though i think he hates that, that's probably how he sees himself now - as a damaged person whose only worth is that he's good at this violent work. i think he hasn't had a hug - a real hug - in years, in large part because he won't allow himself to have it.

haha oops this turned into a leon essay again... i just can't be normal about him. can't even answer a regular little ask without monologuing about his emotional damage.... thanks for the ask and for giving me this opportunity to TEDtalk about him :)

[asexualcorvidae]

I finished Wanderstop yesterday. I really liked it. A solid game.

The way the story interwove with the mechanics was very overt, but also very good. There's obvious friction in the mechanics, which is intentional; when you do the same task over and over again, you notice the small inefficiencies, like how long something takes or that your garbage can is right in front of your fridge so it turns on when you open the fridge (true story). But that's all part of it! Was it the most innovative game I've ever played? No. Did I get tired of some of those inefficiencies by the end? Yeah. But that's pretty typical!

The story is the real standout here. A lot of posts I see say that Wanderstop is about burnout, which is like saying Celeste is about overcoming difficulty. It's not... wrong. But it's not telling the full picture.

[Full game spoilers ahead!]

Wanderstop is about hating yourself. It's about hating something you have done or someone you have been so much that you wish you were a different person. This is much more obvious by the end of the game, and I suspect most of those reviews saying the game is about burnout had not reached this point. Still, that is what this game is about. Alta doesn't burn out solely because she worked too hard. She is deeply lethargic because she carries around the burden of being a failure and a monster.

There's so much that Wanderstop gets right about this experience that it makes me glad. Way back in the day, I used to talk about how much I loved empathetic portrayals of downright unpleasant and especially violently mentally ill people. Alta is never redeemed for her violence. The game does not ask you to overlook what she did or move past it. But the narrative gives space for Alta to comprehend her own actions, that she (not some spirit possessing her) did try to kill someone who was just trying to help, and says, "You still carry in you the capacity for good. Whether you do good is up to you." Not to sound like a therapy enjoyer, but there's space for both of these things - just like there's space for the synthesis of both Altas.

On that note - I loved the concept of the forest creating "space" between the two fragments of Alta (and doing the same later with Monster), because that is exactly what it was like for me. I used to fight with myself all the time, and that's what those conversations with myself were like - like two different people, with two completely different mindsets and perspectives, existing just a few centimeters apart from one another. It also represents the way that people overcome (violent) impulses - by creating just a small space to pause and think. That space starts so incredibly small, but just a tiny wedge allows you to slowly wedge in more time until you can really take a good 30 seconds to think before you chunk your phone across the room. (True story.) (I'm very lucky that I never broke a phone doing that.) (This happened many times.)

I wonder what a story like this would have meant to me shortly after making peace with myself - or even moreso, before then. I don't know if I would have liked this game as much! I might have even liked it more, but also sobbed like a baby during it. It's definitely a very emotional story, even by the end, and I quite liked it. There's a lot you can unpack from that game. I definitely recommend it.

[leikeliscomet]

Getting into the aspec community's anti-love stance more on a personal level cus it's been me rubbing the wrong way for so long.

Society sees love and sex as the same so it doesn't make sense whenever the community acts like the marginalisation of certain types of sex wouldn't have any impact on romance whatsoever. That homophobes hate homosexuality but will give homoromanticism a free pass. There was a whole study, the MacInnis-Hodson study, that showed homophobes admitted they'd still discriminate against gay people if we don't have sex. Homophobes think gay love doesn't exist in two respects; that gayness is inherently sexual so 'love' between the same gender doesn't exist because it's only sexual and that gay love is perverted, sinful because it can involve sex and shouldn't exist. There is no way to be anti gay love that doesn't circle back to this. It's also weird that people unironically think puritans are pro-love if they're anti sex (and spoilers they're not anti-sex they love heterosexual reproduction) like no they're pro-marriage. Pro cishet monogamous marriage to be exact. There isn't a single context where they think gay love is pure. They've banned gay kisses, they've erased gay characters that don't have sex, there's a whole genre of homophobic Netflix where gay characters being physically close to each other is getting scrubbed and sanitised like this idea of pure uwu alloromantic love u lot are talking about doesn't include the gays. It's *never* included us. It also doesn't include Black women because look at the way writers and fandoms fight tooth and nail to avoid making Black women love interests. In fact it doesn't include any marginalised group society says is romantically undesirable.

The most important form of pro-gay love activism I always think of is queer Ghanaians and the anti-LGBTQIA bill that got passed. I can't visit my family in Ghana without being in danger. I either put myself at risk by connecting with my own roots or I never see them and stay 'safe' in the UK (and I use 'safe' in the lightest way possible). I think of queer Ghanaians and other queer Black Africans in the global south navigating the effects of colonialism on top of rampant queerphobia, violence and rape. The conflict of being proud of your Africanness whilst your country is killing you. I think of Angel Maxine and her creation of Love is Our Will and the full version, Kill The Bill Love Is Our Will and how as Ghana's first openly trans musician she's putting her life on the line everytime she sings about gay love. I'm never gonna see that as useless of 'uwu pure love allo things' like fuck no. Fuck that. It's an act of resistance and bravery. So yeah western aspecs giggling about gay love messages being useless when this shit is going on will always be dutty and ignorant to me for this reason.

It feels so weird when I call out amatonormativity and try to centre aroaces as an ace that experiences romantic attraction to have aspecs start shitting on alloaces and non-ace people's romantic attraction in my reblogs like I'm not the alloace and and 'allo queer' in question. I think it's cus people assume I'm aroace too so they feel comfortable saying these things. Or people know I'm not but the idea of being gay and asexual isn't sinking in cus I have a post talking about gay asexuality and people tagged it as aroace instead. Or this is some conditional support cus I cant help but notice the increase in acephobia I'm getting the minute I start focusing on the lesbian side of my asexuality. That aspecs have a bigger issue with the ace lesbian culture blog than they do the Black one.

Yes the 'love is love slogan' has limits, yes love is not the most important part of gay activism but that's literally why we have more than one ffs. You can care about multiple things at once. I'm sorry but if we can see how blatantly reactionary sex loses, don't have gay sex would make a pretty puritan sounding type of activist messaging, that proudly labelling ourselves anti-sex and that supporting sex negativity would sound fucking awful then making fun of gay love activism five seconds after it's giving hypocrisy. Like you lot either genuinely don't know enough gay history of theory so these posts are coming from ignorance or you do know and don't care. And that's worse.

Cus if we were doing up 'fuck love where women are expected to be perfect wives and mothers' 'fuck loving our abusers just because they're family' 'fuck the idea we have to love people unconditionally when they're hurting us' 'fuck the idea romantic love 'fixes' and absolves people for doing morally bad things' 'fuck the idea you have fall in love with the opposite gender/sex only' then i'd be all aboard but no we're (not me tho) making fun of the sexless uwu gays with romantic attraction... just like the rest of society.

[sleepy-grav3]

Obsessions

More of a ramble, but it could be taken as a prompt. Closer to a headcanon though.

Tw: swears, bad lab safety, murder (Dan's human half)

So you guys know how Danny's obsessions is either space, protection, or both of them? Well if it had to do with protection, what happened with Dan?

Obsessions are more of a ghost thing. His humanity was killed with his human half? What if that wasn't it?

Protection is actually a much wider spectrum. It doesn't just have to do with protecting someone else, but also yourself.

Getting rid of Dan's human half got rid of his morality, his humanity, the hero in him.

What if it also mutated his Obsession?

A lot of people like to call his obsession violence, maybe even family for a select few. But I think it should be Safety.

Yes, safety is basically synonymous with protection, but there are differences apparently. I'm more focused on differentiating them though. It just helps separate Danny and Dan's obsessions from each other to avoid misunderstandings.

But point is- what if Dan's obsession is actually about protecting himself? What if his obsession is keeping himself safe?

When he got separated from his human half, it was because his human half wanted him gone. There must've been some underlying part of Ending him, killing him, really making sure he was gone. And Dan would know. He was just the same mind as the other half before the separation took place.

So to keep himself safe, to protect himself, he killed off his human half. He knew how smart they were. You can't live with scientists, modifying their inventions to become less lethal, without learning a thing or 2.

And then there was Vlad. He was strong. The human half of him was what made Danny so durable, as he was resistant to anti-ecto equipment thank to that. Which meant Dan was weaker now and Vlad could easily avenge that Danny or take control of Dan. That's not even mentioning that he was only half a being.

So he stole Plasmius and fused, overpowering the other. Then becoming Dan and all that.

But then the whole world was still against him, with the GIW and all that (I don't know if they were introduced by then, but let's just imagine they were). They were a threat. The people hating him could all grow a pair and make weapons if they tried hard enough, so they were a threat.

So he killed them.

Then the time shenanigans came in and he met his younger self. That would obviously mess with reality somehow. Enough that he'd disappear. So he went to save himself by trying to make the same events happen to Danny.

It would make sense. So yeah. Dan's obsession is Safety in my opinion.

Maybe in a redemption arc, he protects his family (he won't admit that he thinks of them like that) because it'll affect his mental and emotional heal. He's trying to save himself from heartache of losing someone else.

Did you think that was it? Hell no. Let's continue with Vlad.

I bet his obsession is family. Obvious enough, but yeah. He considers Danny his son, Maddie his wife. No idea why he ignores Jazz despite her looking much more similar to Maddie than Danny.

Like- yeah, Danny is the one with ghost powers. But Jazz has the looks, specifically the hair. idk, I feel like he should obsess more for her.

"She has my eyes" not really "and Maddie's hair" yep.

That type of thing. He's delusional enough in the show.

Then there's Elle/Ellie/Dani. Obvious and agreed upon enough: Freedom.

But what about Jazz?

What if she became a halfa or considered liminal enough for an honorary obsession?

I'd think hers would be stability. She wants everyone to be ok, normal, and she's canonically a control freak. Sure, hers could be control, but I feel like she isn't much in the controlling thing.

Psychology, for example, is seeking stability and recovery. Recovery doesn't work much because I don't see her fretting over paper cuts or anything like that. But I bet she wants a break for everyone. and everything would be fine if everything went the same. Was normal. Was stable and not out of control like a government branch trying to commit war crimes and mass genocide.

This could probably be put differently. Maybe a different word, but I feel like this fits? Idk, maybe I'm not explaining this right, but this is technically a ramble.

Oh! And this makes sense if Jazz is the halfa. "I'll make sure everything stays the same" Everything becomes stable. There's still a problem, but as long as it's dealt with accordingly, it's ok.

Completely off topic, but there's this artist that draws Jazz as Jazz Phantom with blue hair and I think an orange headband and she's SO pretty like that. I almost want to get back into art to draw fanart with that now stuck in my head. She's just so PRETTY! she's pretty as a human too but- just- I love the blue hair. I love the idea in general. Made me get to the point of actively simping for Jazz and not just being a fan-

Anyway!

Jazz's obsession is stability.

and the Fenton Parents are just plain crazy. They have stuff to block out ectoplasm, right?

They still show skin. They still breathe in air with ambient ectoplasm in it.

What the fuck is their obsession called? Is it shared? Is it the same?

Are their kids part of it?

I'm not sure. Oh shit-

What the fuck would their obsessions be???

Just ghosts?

It could be but it could be more.

It could be so much more.

I bet Wes was hanging around Danny so much that he became liminal enough to get an honorary obsession. Sam and Tuck too.

Wes - Exposing the Truth

Sam - Save the Earth

Tuck - Technology

[silvershadow1711]

I have (mostly) put Arcane s2 from my mind because, for as much as I liked s1, it didn't grab hold of me and demand all my attention. Arcane joins Game of Thrones in the "things I liked that were pretty fucking great at the start and ended up being such massive trainwrecks that 100% of the enjoyment now comes from hearing in-depth critiques about it" category. But there's something that bothers me that I haven't really seen anyone else bring up.

Sevika. Specifically, Sevika's new role as a councilor. The "you lack media literacy" crowd cheers and applauds and weeps tears of joy because this is such a major victory for Zaun, it's a sign that things will be better! The critical crowd (rightly) points out that, given that everything the council does is by vote and everyone else on the council visibly hates her, Sevika will be outvoted any time she tries bring up measures that will help Zaun. But that's not my issue.

Who decided that Sevika gets to be a councilor?

That's not a snarky insult- seriously; who made the choice that this woman gets to represent Zaun?

Did the people of Zaun have an election? (If so, how? Who organized it? What counts as an eligible voter? Is Zaun a true democracy or are there representitives?) Because if they did, I kind of doubt that the majority of people really want Silco's gaurd dog deciding what happens to them. "Oh, but she was only following Silco because she cares about Zaun--" would the average Zaunite see it that way? Would the average Zaunite who we would assume would be part of the voting body see the enforcer for the (former) leader of the chembarons who we have been shown doing nothing but commiting acts of violence in Silco's name and think "yeah, she totally has our best interests at heart"? The one time we see her trying to rally Zaun and call for unity, not one person there wants to hear the shit coming out of her mouth... and these are the revolutionaries! The Firelights and Jinxers, the people who would most want change, still don't want to throw their chips in with Sevika!

So then... the councilors maybe? Did the councilors choose Sevika to join? Why would they? At best, they don't know her and she's some random Zaunite to them. At worst, they know exactly who she is, in which case, it's even less likely that they'd allow her to be on the council. No one in Piltover is going to want shit to do with someone that intrinsically linked with Silco and therefore Jinx.

Did she just... show up? Did they put out a "Help Wanted: Inquire Within" sign and Sevika was the only person who asked for the job? Or did she force her way in, demand a seat and threaten to kill them if they didn't give her a place at the table?

This is what happens when you don't give a shit about the world you're writing for. When you see the setting as nothing more that different action set pieces for cool fight scenes to take place in, rather than a place populated by actual people. This is what happens when you shrink your cast down to a handful of named characters; anything important that happens has to include the named characters, even if it makes no sense in-universe (see: Bronn, a man who admits he doesn't know what a loan is, being the Master of Coin in GoT).

[darkstarofchaos]

since the writers and this fandom has a hate boner for prowl, if he has a support network, who would you include in that little circle? very much would not include every autobot that punches him because fuck them lmao. but yeah? who and why though? for me, and i know i shouldn't be looking into their relationship through a shipping lens, but jazz seems like a good choice, he is the only one i can see that could possibly be in that circle 😭

Oh, that's an interesting question. And a difficult one to answer if we're looking specifically at IDW, because it's not enough just to be nice to Prowl - the character(s) need to be a positive (or at least neutral) influence in his life. For example, I wouldn't count the Constructicons, even though they were outwardly nothing but supportive, because they loved Prowl for all the things he hated about himself. Prowl needs people in his corner who can help him become who he wants to be, or at least won't hold him back by praising him for things he regrets doing.

Another issue with the Constructicons is that their support was superficial - they just did what he wanted, and then dropped him for basically no reason (yes, they had a reason. I do not accept that reason because they've been in Prowl's head and knew he never wanted them or saw them as anything but tools, but liked him in spite of that. It makes no sense to know he would drop them if he could, then get mad at him for doing just that).

Arcee pretty much did the same thing: she was perfectly happy following his orders, but then she dropped him the moment she felt like he was impeding her personal growth. And no, I don't care if that's a misrepresentation of what happened, because this also happened:

Way to prove him right, Arcee.

So that's another criterion for being a part of Prowl's support system. If you consider yourself as bad as or worse than he is, you're happy to do things he expressly said he doesn't want to do, and then you get uppity because you were given a chance to change and he didn't, you're no better than the rest of the morally judgmental pricks that make up a large percentage of the Autobot ranks.

So with (some of) the ranting out of the way, who actually fits my unreasonably strict criteria of... *checks notes* ...Being genuinely supportive and neither pushing Prowl to be worse nor punishing him for not knowing how to be better?

My first choice would be Cerebros, for being the only person I can think of to ever apologize to Prowl for hurting him (I think Bumblebee actually apologized too, but Bumblebee grabbed him by the throat in a fit of anger, and Cerebros took over his body briefly to save their little group from Sentinel, not knowing he had trauma around being controlled. I'm gonna say the accidental harm with good intentions is more forgivable than straight up violence). Admittedly we don't see a lot of Cerebros, but honestly, that might be a good thing since there isn't time for the writers to turn him against Prowl.

I would also propose Red Alert, who similarly doesn't get a chance to turn on Prowl after their peaceful final interaction. I feel like Red might be one of the only people who wouldn't just dismiss Prowl's trauma around being controlled and having his mind messed with, having experienced both himself, and the romantic in me likes that the moment he was about to kill Prowl was the moment he broke free of Sentinel's control. I doubt it meant anything beyond being the most dramatic moment for him to return to himself, but with no evidence to the contrary, I'll read whatever I want into it (I don't actually ship them, but considering Sentinel's scoffing about sparkmates, it would be thematically appropriate for Red to break free at that moment because of genuine affection for Prowl. You know, if there was actually a theme there and it wasn't just the writer who wrote most of the romance in IDW using aromanticism to make a villain more hateable. But anyway).

I would not add Fort Max to the list, because even though he seems to at least accept Prowl's presence by the end, everything about their scenes together is so? Weird? Max is mad at him when he first shows up, but then apart from a few disparaging comments (mostly meant for humor) he's just kind of fine with him being there? And Prowl himself is completely out of character, the whole scene with him forgetting why Fort Max might hate him is one of the most "he would not fucking say that" moments I've ever experienced from canon material. Those two issues feel like Fort Max speedran forgiveness or something, and I really don't think it works. So yeah, Prowl can have the rest of the Luna-1 crew, but I'm not sold on Max.

Unfortunately, while I've come to like them as a pair (and I'm not sure why you "shouldn't" look at them through a shipping lens?), I don't think I would count Jazz as part of Prowl's support system:

As Prowl notes, that's a biased description of events, and one Jazz presumably got from Optimus or one of the others who was present for the Combiner Wars arc. But the fact that he accepts that version of events, and that he supports Optimus long after Prowl has had enough of him, makes me feel like he would actively choose Optimus over Prowl if he had to. At very least, if you told him that Optimus physically attacked Prowl after his arrest, I don't think he would believe you. Or he would believe Optimus' version of events, which is that Prowl "made" him do it (come to think of it, Optimus must have told people something to explain how Prowl "escaped". Wonder what it was).

So yeah. Looking at canon as it is, I really can't come up with anyone else I'd choose as a support system.

Now if I could choose to ignore parts of canon, I would definitely pick Jazz because it seems like he and Prowl got along really well during the war. I also feel like Arcee shouldn't have been so quick to turn her back on him, considering she was such an enthusiastic partner in crime, so I guess I'd add her to the list. Maybe Wheeljack, since he was willing to give Starscream a chance (though Prowl almost killed Wheeljack while being controlled by Bombshell, so I could see that maybe being too uncomfortable for one or both of them).

And if you want an option that's more a giant "fuck you" to canon than anything that could actually happen, I've always felt Prowl and Starscream should have been friends. Which sounds like it flies against the "no bad influences" rule, but Starscream himself was trying to do better after a while, so they could have done better together. Plus, I like the idea of outcasts standing by each other when no one else will.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep7 Musings - Sam Reid’s Autumn Brown Interview (Pt2) S3 Akasha, the Drop, & Amel

Ok, returning to the whole "Blame Amel For Lestat's Abusive Behavior."

Sam referred to something VERY important that I think people overlooked in his segment on the Ep5 revisit; they heard the Akasha bit and just ran with it. But this is exactly what he said:

[SR] Loustat "had the potential to have something very beautiful, but [Lestat's] too messy and chaotic, and Louis and Lestat are also...the beauty of their violence and hatred together, their dynamic...you know.... [AB] It's the best! They have exactly what each other needs. But also everything that makes both of them the worst parts of themselves and the best parts of themselves. [SR] And I think that's kind of cool, when we revisit that scene from Episode 5 in Season 1. And you see that in the in the Trial. I think there's something really wildly beautiful, between the two of them, in that violence. Because Louis is unhinged and angry at Lestat, and I think Lestat is more obviously--he's way more powerful, and his act of violence is, you know, like unforgivable. [SR] But there's this space that private space that they have in the coffin room...how much they hate each other...that's how much Louis hates him, and that's how much Lestat is...hurt, and then turns into this violent, angry, I hate you!.... They have that much hate. They also have that much love; because they're also vampires, and so they operate on like a level of like-- [AB] Emotion that's dialed up to-- [SR] Pure chaos! They're operating on that level, and then Lestat drops him from the sky, and it is an irredeemable event in their relationship. It cannot come back from that. And it creates this kind of cascade in a set of events, that leads to Lestat being killed. And I think that's part of our adaptation. It's not necessarily the the real events Anne Rice's books, but this is what is in our adaptation. And I think it does feed into that overall sentiment that Lestat acknowledges his evil, hellish self-loathing self...that is there; and we obviously heighten things and make it bigger. [AB] In Season 1 you know that there's something else going on, on the other side of the wall; because you can hear the fight dies down. There's a break, and you think it's over, and suddenly starts back up again. And we have this moment of Lestat taking Louis into the sky. We finally get to see what that moment was. And Louis is chilling--oh my god that little laugh that he does! He's like I'm gonna cut your head off! I'm gonna feed it to the lions and I'm gonna laugh about it! I mean, do you think for Lestat in that moment...? Cuz what leads to Louis saying that is Lestat asking Are you going to leave me? Had Louis just said: Yeah! and walked out the door and left with Claudia, would that have led to the explosion? Was it the act of him leaving, or was it the words that instigated that level of vitriol? [SR] Uhhh....I don't know about that. And I don't know if it's worth speculating what would have happened if that didn't happen.

--MURF INTERJECTION-- Thank GOD Sam shut that ish down, omfg. Again: STOP tryna find ways to victim blame Louis for what went down or say he "instigated" the fight! 🤬 It doesn't frikkin MATTER what Louis said or didn't say. All that matters is what happened TO Louis, and TO Claudia, that was what got Lestat "killed."

[SR] But I think more importantly is that--and this is something that I've felt has been really important about playing Lestat from the beginning, and probably something that people find probably a little bit confronting--but for me, for Queen of the Damned to work, Lestat has to have a level of toxic male rage in him, so that when he is angry, and when he's violent, it has to be a toxic masculine rage for Akasha to follow through with the events that she does. And why she says: You are everything about masculinity that's wrong and terrible. And so that's why you're going to be my right-hand guy, and you're going to help me kill them all. And I think...I always felt like, when he does have those spurts of anger, it does have to come from a very toxic place. [SR] Where we're going, when we're looking at it, obviously there's a scene back in Season 1: he's had a drink of this, like, fountain that nobody knows he's had. Nobody knows. No one in the show. Nobody knows. The only person who knows is Lestat. And most of the people watching the show don't know this, at this point in time. [AB] There's just that one little throwaway line about Those Who Must Be Kept, and then nothing else. [SR] And originally in Season 1, when they're in the sky and they're having that moment, Lestat was originally scripted to tell Louis about The Sacred Fount! In that moment, Lestat actually tells Louis about what he has inside of him; what, who he's drunk from. I'm trying to be really vague for anyone who's watching this, and has no idea, and I'm not going to give anything away! But anyone who does know, will know. But originally it's that he's up in the sky. [SR] And I think that is the parallel line that we're drawing with. That level of rage that Lestat has. That toxic abusive rage is also coming from an extreme monstrous power, coming from this intense monster that he has, and he has no idea how to control; he's trying to repress it all the time. But he knows, if he can, if somebody just ticks him off a bit.... He's a volatile guy already, but he's got this thing in that makes him go: AAH! [AB] It's almost going back to that element of vanity that you're were talking about: being like, you would do this to ME?! You don't even KNOW what I have within me! [SR] Yeah, exactly! So that also means that we can feed that shame and shock into his monstrous self--and acknowledgement OF his monstrous self--into his progressive spiral, into where we're going. (34:10 - 40:59)

So. All of this stuff about Akasha (& Amel) needs to be recontextualized, cuz what Sam said is that "ORIGINALLY" the 1x5 script had Lestat threaten Louis with the warning: I'm trying to restrain the monstrous thing in me that makes me go AAH; you don't even KNOW what I have in me, AAH!

But guess what else happened? OBVIOUSLY, THEY TOTALLY TOSSED THAT ISH OUT OF THE SCRIPT, in S1 AND in the S2 revisit. 😂🤣 The time to have teased/suggested that there was something controlling Lestat that made him "accidentally" hurt Louis came & went in BOTH seasons, so arse-pulling Amel so late into the show after we already got Lestat's admission during the Trial looks goofy AF.

Cuz possession is a lazy abuse apologia COP OUT. Having "It was Amel's fault all along" would've directly contradicted AND undermined their whole point about PERSONAL ACCOUNTABILITY that they clearly wanted to get across MORE than using spirit possession as a crutch to explain/excuse Lestat's abusive behavior.

Possession would imply too many things, distracting from the overall thrust of Rolin's vision for telling a very real & very "aggressive, toxic, beautiful love story" about the ways soulmates find their way back to each other after hurting each other over & over.

Esp. since Hannah Moscovich (Ep5's writer) has already been VERY clear about her take on Lestat's capacity for "evil." She mentions his bad actions in TotBT, when Lestat was HUMAN again--he wasn't even in his own vampiric body (attached to Amel/Akasha's blood), and he was STILL doing effed up things! So his issues have nothing to do with spirit possession.

[SR] "it does feed into that overall sentiment that Lestat acknowledges his evil, hellish self-loathing self...that is there; and we obviously heighten things and make it bigger."

(Funny, when Sam something it's flowers & praise; but when Hannah says the same thing it's boos & hisses from the exact same fans, lol.)

Vampirism EXACERBATES & INTENSIFIES aspects of ALL people's character/nature that was ALREADY there; "all feels amplified." Cuz ALL vampires have Amel's spirit in them, NOT just Lestat. ALL of them are powered by his monstrous spirit, and ALL of them are capable of heinous sadistic bloodlust & inhuman acts of violence--look at Claudia's 56 Floaters & Santiago at the Chateau & Armand chasing Malik (& book!Daniel) for the lolz; and how hard Louis tries to FIGHT succumbing to those same impulses too. (Nebamun/Gregory & Teskhamen drank Akasha/Amel's blood. Marius & Pandora & Bianca drank her blood. Sweet baby Khayman drank her blood. Her son Seth drank her blood. Even Big Bad Rhoshamandes drank her blood, and as twisted as he is, even HE was like naaah this heifer's crazy, I'm outta here. Plenty of vamps drank from the Sacred Fountain, and aren't half as crazy & abusive & evil as the vampires that DIDN'T: Magnus, Santiago, Santino, Bruce/Killer, etc.) So the (weak) argument that Amel/Akasha's blood alone is what drives vamps to go totally effing ballistic on their significant others whenever they get mad is patently false, by the book AND the show's own logic.

So I'm glad they got rid of those lines, and just had Les say EXACTLY why he "fought myself a million times; fought my nature, controlled my temper!" and got mad enough to beat the breaks off Lou:

It's INSECURITY--not that Les can't control the monster in him (though ofc that's a VERY legit fear, his struggles with his temper & anger issues); it's that he can't control his family; his husband & child; and can't even "force Louis to love me;" esp. cuz despite all the Dark Gifts he has, he CAN'T read Louis' mind or manipulate his thoughts the way he could back when Lou was still human.

Cuz what Lestat DOES have from Amel/Akasha is direct access to more raw POWER & more Dark Gifts than the average vampire his age. He got her blood straight from the source, not diluted across vampiric generations. Those Gifts are why his rage so dangerous--his ability to overpower weaker vamps & fly them up in the air to drop them & set Millennial Fledglings on fire just for irritating him, etc. Esp. cuz we know "he's a volatile guy already;" he's got patented anger issues up the wazoo ("I am cursed with my father's temper; I am burdened with my Maker's temper").

ALSO, why would Amel have possessed Les to do something so counter-productive to his Chosen One's survival as almost winding up in the incinerator right next to Antoinette? By that logic, we'd have to say that Louis chokeslammed Claudia cuz HE was possessed by Amel too! That entirely strips away precisely what Sam said: how much Loustat LOVES each other drives them to unhinged levels of violence AGAINST each other, AND ultimately Claudia, as they each fear she'll take them away from each other (to Europe/the incinerator).

Hence why AMC hasn't laid ANY breadcrumbs indicating that Lestat was "possessed" by anything--just plain ole oppressive patriarchal toxic masculinity, just like I've been saying all along:

Cuz that machismo's what draws Magnus to Les in TVL & Akasha to Les in QotD; and that "vanity" is what draws Raglan James to Les in TotBT, and that sin/guilt/shame/self-loathing is what draws Memnoch to Les in MtD. In every book until Merrick, Lestat proves the villain right, before he finally realizes how bad he's messed up AGAIN, and course corrects to try proving them WRONG about him.

But Lestat's character development is a marathon, not a sprint; so it's not until Blackwood Farm that Lestat finally simmers TF down, and it's not till the PL Trilogy that his redemption arc really shines best. In PLatRoA, Louis proposes to Lestat WITH AMEL STILL IN HIM, as the Sacred Core directly communicating with Lestat, with the greatest chance to ACTUALLY take over Les if he wanted to! Louis is arguably the MOST concerned about Amel staying posted up in Lestat & possibly taking over him, so sure, I CAN see AMC leaning into the fear that Lestat's underestimating the chance of being spiritually possessed; esp. when compared with Akasha & Rhoshamandes. But that's also what SEPARATES Lestat from those 2, cuz he IS different; he IS special--to Amel. Cuz Les has a massive capacity to LOVE; he LISTENS, and treats Amel like a FRIEND, a PERSON, not a monster. And Lestat was SAD when Kapetria darn near kidnapped him & forced the surgical operation that finally separated Amel from him--cuz Lestat's ALWAYS carried that fear of abandonment in him.

Cuz it's not about Amel at all: it's about the HUMAN SOUL in each & every vampire; at the core of Gothic lit as a genre.

Cuz vampires ARE monsters, but the whole point of TVC is how they all learn how to be BETTER monsters/people; and NOT act like "barbarians" & wild animals--hence: Lestat's Vampire Court in the Chateau Era at the end of the franchise. Hence: Lestat finally becoming WORTHY of Louis' love.

So if AMC succumbs to pressure from the Lestans and retcons S1 & S2 to blame it all on Amel, Imma call that weak ish out on the spot.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Hanley Waters: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: Evaluations are here, and Hotch needs to make sure where everywhere is after Emily's death. You were able to busy yourself with the case in Tampa, but now you have to face reality and speak your mind.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If any warnings exceed the normal deaths/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists." - Antonio Porchia

There can't be a death on the team and not have evaluations attached to that. Hotch is going to want to talk to everyone about Emily's death one-on-one, and you're not particularly excited about it. For one, you don't think she's really dead. You would have felt her otherwise, and the only trace of her in the BAU is her fucking picture on that godforsaken wall.

However, you're not going to start accusing everyone of lying to you because if she is dead, then that will open old and new wounds. You don't want to be responsible for their pain, so you keep your mouth shut.

"Hotch is going to start evaluations soon," you say to JJ over FaceTime. You look through the glass doors to see your team walking around aimlessly as they wait for the briefing to start. "Like I don't already have enough on my plate."

"What do you mean?"

"Besides wedding planning that's going really slow? My parents. I went to visit them for Mother's Day and tell them about my engagement, but they canceled on me. I went to Vegas but they didn't want to see me. I had to tell them over the phone which was really weird."

"How so?"

"They seemed happy for me."

"That's weird?"

"My dad hates Spencer. When I told him I was moving in with him, he threw a fit. I don't know. I don't like how calm he's being."

"I'm sure it's going to be okay."

You lean against the wall and sigh. "What am I going to tell Hotch about Emily?"

"How about how you feel?"

If you're going to say how you feel, may as well let it be to JJ. "What if I don't feel Emily? I would have if she were dead." JJ disappears off camera to tend to Henry who just walked in based on his giggling. "Is she really dead?"

"Yes," she says after a while. "I know it doesn't feel like it."

"It really doesn't." Everyone starts walking toward the briefing room. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

You hang up on JJ and meet everyone in the briefing room where the news is playing on the TV.

"A deadly chain of events to report to you today. Approximately forty-five minutes ago, four people were shot to death in a gun shop on West Waters Street. Tampa PD is calling this mass murder unprecedented."

"A woman went in there and just shot up the place?" Ashley asks.

"Yeah, witnesses heard gunshots and saw a woman leaving the store."

"Is there enough for a sketch?"

"It's a family-owned business. No cameras. The only thing of value the witnesses said was that she seemed really calm."

"Did she work there?"

"No. Local police have already ruled that out."

"Then she must have known one of her victims. I doubt this was random."

"You know, Klebold and Harris documented their hatred of the athletes at Columbine, but on the day, they targeted the cafeteria instead of the gymnasium because they were only interested in obtaining the highest possible body count," you say. "These offenders usually hole up in one location and eventually commit suicide, either by their own hand or in a shoot with police, but this woman took off before the cops arrived."

"She's probably not finished."

You move this conversation to the plane and continue as soon as you're in the air.

"Larry Connors, owned the gunstore for sixteen years. Nothing this bad has ever happened. Seaver, what did you find out about victimology?"

"They're all locals with similar backgrounds. Blue-collar jobs, they're all divorced, and they've all got tempers. Most of them have misdemeanor bar fights on their record."

"Testosterone-fueled victims, but somehow she still gets the drop on all of them," Derek scoffs.

"Men like this may not view her as a threat because she's a woman who is likely in the middle of a psychotic break."

"We should check psych wards in the area for recent releases, and run incident reports on women who've been asked to leave businesses due to angry outbursts."

"How far do we want to go back? A year?" Ashley wonders.

"No, more than that. No incident is too small. She's probably been boiling for a while. Unless she's in serious denial, then she's been burying her feelings, which would have just made her worse and worse."

"The question is, why did she choose today?"

When you land, you head to the gunstore with Rossi and Hotch. The chief of police is waiting for you when you get there, and Hotch makes introductions.

"Chief Thiers. Thanks for coming. The store was only open a few minutes when this went down."

"Hell of a way to start the day."

"I kept the bodies here long past their expiration date. We're trying to figure out what the hell went on in here. It would appear four shots were fired from generally this position. Four dead."

Since the incident is still so fresh, you can see it play out as clear as day. The woman walks into the gunstore with purpose like she knew what she was going to do that day. She approaches the counter and talks with Larry who shows her a .38 revolver. He gives her a form to fill out, presumably because she doesn't have a license or a permit to have a gun. Instead of filling out the paper, she takes out bullets from her pocket and loads the gun. She shoot the four men inside the store and flees.

"Proficient," hotch says. "She comes in with a gun and she gets all the way to the counter without attracting attention?"

"She was calm. She wasn't crying or anything like that," you say.

"Was this case unlocked when you got here?" Rossi asks and points to the gun case.

"We haven't touched a thing here."

"There seems to be a .38 revolver missing."

"That's what she used. She came in here and asked for a .38. Larry removed it from the case, and she used her own bullets to load the gun," you explain. Chief Thier looks at you with a confused look. "I'm kind of like your personal security camera. She knew what gun to ask for but didn't have a permit for one. Larry gives her one, but she doesn't fill it out."

"There's a three-day waiting period," Chief Thier says.

"Maybe she's got a record and knows she won't pass the background."

"Or there's something about today and she can't wait," Hotch adds. 

"If it's just a gun she wants, why kill all these guys?"

"They were in the way."

You, Hotch, and Rossi leave the gun store and start the drive back to the station. Hotch calls Penelope who connects you to the members at the station.

"This woman had access to ammo for a .38, but not a gun," Hotch informs.

"She most likely lives with someone who's into guns but doesn't allow her access. Usually locking weapons is a way to protect children, but to keep a key from her is a controlling and dominating act."

"She could be in an abusive relationship and today's the day she had enough," Rossi theorizes.

"I don't think so. I would have felt resentment and anger. I mean, I did but it was different like... It was different."

"She stole the gun at nine this morning. If she needed it to go after somebody, why hasn't she done it yet?" Ashley asks.

"Maybe she wants them hostage right now and is working up the courage to end it all."

"Or maybe her target knows her personally and isn't letting her get close enough for a kill, and she's setting a trap and waiting. Garcia, based on victimology, the unsub's husband or boyfriend most likely owns a .38. We need you to search for white males aged thirty-five to fifty who have registered that model."

"He might be law enforcement or military," Ashley adds.

"It's possible the unsub was in an abusive relationship that contributed to her breakdown, Garcia. So, look for a crossover with reports of domestic abuse."

"This is tricky. Do you have anything else to narrow it down?"

"Why?"

"Because Florida's a stand-your-ground state. The castle doctrine is based on English common law that allows homeowners to use deadly force to protect their land. It's a high-falutin way of saying that the gun laws are lax at best. After the 2008 elections, the Floridians were nervous about losing their Second Amendment rights, and gun sales shot through the roof, pun intended."

"How many of those men fit that profile in Tampa?" Derek asks.

"As it stands right now, six hundred and thirty-eight."

Your, Rossi, and Hotch's phone beep rapidly but you don't have to look at it because you have a feeling you know what it is.

"There's been another shooting," Spencer says.

Apparently, he got the message, too. Since Hotch is already driving, he makes a U-turn and heads over to the newest location of the shooting: a mall. The place is already cleared out by the time you arrive. Only a security guard was shot instead of multiple ones, and you piece together what happened based on the desperate energy the unsub left behind.

In the open area is a small play pen with plastic slides and such that kids can play with as parents either eat or take a break using the tables and chairs nearby. The unsub is sitting at one of the tables watching the kids play and laugh, a sad smile on her face. You can't make out a lot but you can seethe general outline of her features.

A young boy falls off one of the slides and cries out in pain, and that's what sets the event in motion. The unsub approaches the young boy and tries to comfort him like a mother would do for her child. The security guard approaches when he suspects that the unsub isn't the boy's mother. The actual child's mother approaches and is able to take her son away, but that doesn't stop the unsub from panicking.

She tries to get to the boy but the guard holds her back. He start to escort her out of the mall but she takes out the gun she stole and shoots him. She leaves right after like she didn't just shoot someone.

The way she went after the boy makes you think she's a mother. That kind of desperation only comes from a mother worrying about her child.

"The media's gonna run with this. We need to talk to the press as soon as possible," Hotch says.

"Just to confirm we have an armed woman on the loose and we can't find her?" Chief Thiers asks.

"Yes, and to let people know that they need to be vigilant."

Chief Thiers sighs and movs onto the victim, the security guard. "His name was Paul Lyons."

"Was he armed?" you ask.

"No."

"Did we get anything on the cameras?"

"Yes, but they're scattered. The best we got from the video was a woman with short brown hair."

"She was sitting here," you say and point to the table. "She was watching the children play when one got hurt. She went to comfort him but the boy's mother took him away. That's when she panicked. She shot Paul when he tried escorting her out. She's a mom. She's desperate. She's spirling."

"Still, that's pretty controlled not to turn on anyone else," Rossi says.

"That's true. She could have easily taken out more people and she didn't. He was the person that got in her way. She's not ready to confront the source of her rage yet."

"Yet?" Chief Thiers asks.

"Until she is, this will probably happen again."

x

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[beevean]

I see one of your post about tcoaal ep 3(and yay I'm not the only person who want to yap about these two little freaky monsters)

One thing I love about ep 3 is that is showed how fvcking tired of the two main characters in their codependency toxic relationship. Like ep 1 and 2 also show that but in Decay it hits hard like VERY hard. Andrew can not satisfied his sister insecurities and her desperate for love& attention, it drives him mad. And for Ashley, her insecurities and her "two faces", only care about his appearance's brother is killing her. For that maybe the only option separated(in a healthy way). But that could only worked when both of them learn their agency and love themselves(and I love Nemlsie for including this part even though its not in a healthy way and Andrew still choose to be with Ashley like a bad habit)

And I hope that we get to see more Ashley's pov about her childhood and how she see the world and everybody around her(and if Decay is focus on Andrew and Burial is focus on Ashley, its gonna be very interested)

Ahhh these two are so fascinating! It's like. I don't even ship them, not only because sibcest does nothing for me, but because the story does it so well I don't need anything else lmao, I just want to obsess over what the game feeds me 😂

Yeah, Decay is, well, what it says on the tin. It's their relationship decaying before our eyes, as Andrew's emotional coldness and Ashley's clinginess clash against each other and the two are stuck in a pathetic, "I hate you but I can't leave you" relationship. There is a part that gave me pause, and it's when Andrew considers that if he killed Ashley, he'd have sixty years of life free of her, but they would be sixty years of lies and alienation. He despises Ashley, he feels trapped and chained to her, but she is just the best he gets.

When you think about it, the ending is pretty much the logical conclusion of how we saw them in episode 1. Ashley fearing Andrew is fucking other women because she has to be constantly reassured that she won't be abandoned. Andrew using physical violence to shut her up, because he can't make himself understood otherwise, but always crawling back to her. They just started fucking about it - and even the sex is miserable, selfish, and apparently non-consensual at times. Andrew "loves Ashley" enough to know she doesn't enjoy it, but "hates her" enough not to care. We don't get Ashley's thoughts, but her attitude of "my body is the only thing worth anything of me, so I'm going to throw it at him to keep him with me" has been present since the beginning. It's how they started. They haven't grown. They just have found their niche in the corner of the world.

(this is the "main" ending I just saw, btw. Apparently there's another ending you can get if you uhhhh don't kill the kid? I still need to understand why that makes the difference)

You're right that this episode has been Andrew central. I love Andrew so I very much didn't mind lol. Maybe it's because he's the one with the biggest conflicts in their relationship, so of course the episode dedicated to the issues of their relationship would feature more of him. I think from this logic, Burial, the episode where their relationship strengthens, could be more from her POV! But yeah, I both despise and pity little Leyley, so I think a flashback from her POV, that shows light on her abandonment issues, would tear my heart apart.

[krisharcher21]

Mention of violence, substance abuse, profanity.

This is a conversation that doesn't really means anything, and describes many aspects of my life I couldn't have put into words any other way.

It's not very poetic. But it hits a part of me (most probably because its kinda based off me) but still, so I thought I'd share.

___________________________________

"why did you do that?"

"what?"

I knew what. He was asking why did I kill my own mother. Why did I?

I was asking myself the same he was asking me. How could I answer him?

"You stabbed your own mother. In the stomach. You killed her, why?"

My throat dried and my heart quivered in my ribs, but I didn't cry. I couldn't. I didn't answer.

He sighed. "Did she abuse you?"

"I guess. Yeah, maybe?"

"that isn't clear. You know what abuse is right?"

"I know." And I knew. But would it be right? To reduce my mother to just an abuser? Yes she abused me, but it wasn't that simple. There was so much more. She was so much better than that, and so much worse.

"okay. Physical abuse?"

"All." When he cocked an eyebrow I raised my sleeves and showed the ciggerate burns. He nodded. Then I flipped over my hand and showed him the lines and scars on my wrist. "Yes she abused me. But I don't know if that's why I did that. Or I'd have killed myself too. No one has ever been meaner to me than myself."

He sighed. His eyes looked at me. If what they say about eyes being a window to the soul is true, his soul was empty. In a way that I was glad. If he didn't feel my grief, he didn't judge me for it either. Still, I was cursed to find meaning in everything, so I kept searching his eyes. It had to be a veil. Like my own.

"how often do you self harm?"

In response to that I showed him my other wrist, then pointed to both of my thighs. "There are many more on my thighs."

A little part of me wished it was a therapist instead of him. He was a little like a monster. He was too much like me, just as unfeeling. And so I hated him.

"So you don't know? Why you killed her? Did she did something that upset you before that?"

I thought. And thought and thought. "I know why I killed her. But do you have the time to know?"

"how much time would you need for telling me?"

I sighed. "I don't know. I'd start from when I was born. Mention every little cruelty and love shown only out of regret. But I know you don't have the time. So to sum it up, I was building up for it ever since I was an infant. Even if I didn't know back then."

"so what was the final straw?"

"she said she grew me in her womb."

"That's it?"

I forgot how mundane it could've sounded. Especially for someone who wasn't hearing it all their life.

"I dropped the coffee I was making for her. I burnt my hand. She lashed out. Called me things she always does. Said I wasted her coffee.Then she said that."

He nodded. Didn't say anything for a while. Lighted his ciggerate but asked me if I was comfortable before the lighter touched the tobbaco stick. I said I was. I was used to the smoke.

"so you aimed at her womb to kill her?"

I shook my head. "Then why?"

"I don't know. Try rephrasing the question."

"Whom were you trying to kill when you stabbed her womb?" He said after taking a small pause for thinking.

I smiled, with teeth. Some of my teeth my mother had knocked out. Would he ever know that?

"Myself."

"you know that's not possible."

"I know." I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I sighed again. Then my head was a mess.

I looked at him, in the eye. And I know I imagined it, but still I saw grief and understanding. But he didn't know anything. To him I was a criminal. But it wasn't that simple. He didn't fucking understand that, did he?

That made me more mad than seeing his blank eyes.

"I was trying to kill both of us. Me and her. Mother and daughter. She was like that because of me, and I am like this because of her. We destroyed each other. Maimed each other's morals and tore apart whatever makes us human. I wished for a moment when I stabbed her the clock would go in reverse, at the moment it was me in that womb. And I would've killed both of us. Yes she made me this. But she wasn't always like that, she wasn't me, she only made me a monster. She was the human. There's a difference, and it is that only one of us could pick up that knife and kill. Me. Because among us, only I had mercy."

He didn't say anything. We sat in silence as he kept smoking. And when his ciggerate finished, he asked me alot of questions.

But I had already given all the answers.

I sat in silence.