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currentlyherlunch · 6 days ago

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REDEMPTION

“You think I wanted this? You think I wanted him to die thinking I hated him?"”

• Ellie and Abby finally have the conversation

• cw: Violence, Death, Emotional Trauma, Psychological Abuse, Internal Conflict, Hallucinations, Guilt, Regret.

"I killed him again in my head, every day. Every time I think of him, it's like I'm killing him all over again."

Abby pov & Ellie pov.

The storm outside raged like a warning, with thunder echoing around the abandoned factory. The rain fell heavy and cold, the sound of the drops mixing with Ellie and Abby’s heavy breathing. The two were facing each other, the silence thick with anger and hurt, like at any moment the air between them was going to explode.

Abby watched Ellie, her fists clenched at her sides, her eyes hard. Ellie’s presence was like a wound that never healed, always reopening, exposing all the pain of the past. "It's his blood in your veins!" Abby spat, her voice thick with bitterness, each word like an accusation.

Ellie felt the weight of that sentence like a punch. His name was like a blade cutting through her chest, and hearing it from Abby only made the pain worse. But instead of backing down, she took a step forward, her eyes burning with a mix of hate and something deeper that she couldn’t even identify. "Then why the hell are YOU acting like him?" she shot back, her voice sharp and full of resentment.

Ellie’s words hit Abby hard, and for a moment, her expression changed. But Abby forced herself to keep her posture, trying to mask the pain those words brought. Ellie continued, her voice now shaky, but still full of intensity: "If you hate him so much, why are you acting just like him? And no, I don’t have his blood in my veins. But he was ALL I HAD!"

Ellie’s voice broke at the end, echoing through the empty space of the factory. That wasn’t just an accusation; it was a confession of a pain she had never let anyone see. Joel was more than a father to her; he was the bond that kept her connected to the world, the safety net she had brutally lost and could never replace.

"He was all I had," Ellie repeated, almost like a whisper, as if she were talking to herself, realizing the depth of that feeling. The echo of her words filled the emptiness around them, as the world seemed to close in on silence.

Abby closed her eyes for a second, absorbing those words. She’d lost people too, sacrificed everything in the name of a revenge that, instead of setting her free, chained her even more. But somehow, hearing this from Ellie... it touched a part of her she tried to ignore.

"You’re not the only one who lost everything, Ellie," Abby said, her voice heavy with deep exhaustion. "He destroyed my family, my life... and I did the same to you."

They were two broken figures, caught in the same cycle of violence.

The silence stretched between them, like a fragile bridge. Ellie took a deep breath, fighting against the rage and sadness. "Joel did what he did... because he loved me. He sacrificed everything for me, can’t you understand that? That’s something you don’t know, Abby. He gave me a second chance, a purpose. And you took that from me."

Abby stayed silent, her eyes fixed on Ellie. "You think I don’t get losing the people you love? You think you’re the only one who knows what it’s like to live with scars?" Her voice, harsh and low, sounded almost like a confession, a release she’d never allowed herself to make to anyone. "I followed you here because I thought I could end this, but maybe... maybe I was just trying to find someone who understood."

"Understand?" Ellie gave a dry laugh, incredulous. "There’s nothing that connects us, Abby. Nothing!"

Abby’s gaze hardened, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Ellie was right there, like a knife in her soul, exposing wounds Abby thought were closed. Ellie’s words were cruel, but they touched something inside her, a part she preferred to ignore.

Her eyes were red, her fists clenched. "You think your dad would sacrifice you for the damn cure? Would you sacrifice Lev, Abby?"

The mention of Lev made Abby’s chest tighten instantly. Lev, the boy she protected, who had become almost a part of her, a reason to keep living. Ellie had hit her deepest wound, the one thing that truly scared her. She fell silent, but her hands trembled slightly. The thought of losing Lev... Abby couldn’t even imagine it.

Abby stayed silent for a moment, feeling the weight of Ellie’s words. She tried to swallow the anger, but the mention of Lev threw her off balance. The image of the boy flashed in her mind, his shy smile, the way he trusted her with a vulnerability she never wanted to betray.

"No, Ellie," Abby started, her voice trembling with a sincerity she rarely allowed. "I... I would never sacrifice Lev. He’s—"

"Exactly like Joel," Ellie interrupted, cutting her words with unrelenting coldness. Abby felt the blow, like Ellie had ripped the air from her lungs. Those words, raw and direct, struck deep.

"You’re exactly like Joel," Ellie continued, her face twisted with anger and pain. "He loved me more than anything, did what he did thinking he was saving me, protecting me... but he destroyed everything in his path. You’re doing the same for Lev, aren’t you? Justifying everything you did... just because someone depends on you."

Abby stayed still, each word from Ellie shattering her, but she couldn’t react. It was like looking into a distorted mirror, where the choices she thought were justified seemed to turn into something dark, selfish.

"I... I'm not like him," Abby murmured, but the conviction in her voice wavered. "I'm not... I'm not a monster."

"Not? You're not like him?" Ellie spat, taking another step forward, the space between them making the air heavy, suffocating. "Then look around, Abby. Look at us, look at what’s left after your revenge. How many lives did we destroy? How many people did we leave broken?"

Abby’s breath quickened, but she couldn’t find a response. She never wanted to be like Joel, never wanted to be a monster in Ellie’s eyes, or even in her own. But there, under Ellie’s direct accusation, she didn’t know what else to say.

Ellie stepped closer, fury consuming each word that left her mouth. "I’ve killed you a thousand times in my head, Abby. A thousand times! But now, if I do it… ah! Then he’ll be left alone. Alone, just like I am. You get it? HE'LL BE ALONE, ABBY! Just like me, just like YOU made me be! What we did, there’s no coming back from it!"

Abby felt a pressure in her chest. It was like something inside her had broken, something she didn’t even know was still there. Ellie was right. The cycle of violence, the pain, the revenge... it was destroying both of them, with no one coming out unscathed. Lev, the boy she was trying to protect, a reflection of what she lost, could now be thrown into the same storm of hatred. But still, she couldn’t back down.

"I never wanted it to be like this..." Abby tried, her voice trembling, though she was doing her best to hold it together. But Ellie didn’t let her finish.

"You did!" Ellie shouted, her voice cutting through with an intensity that shook Abby to her bones. "You’ve wanted this from the start! You wanted me to pay! And now, do you see what it’s done? Do you see what’s happened to us? You think Lev will be different? You think he’ll be able to escape this?"

Abby blinked, feeling the pressure.

Abby couldn’t hold back anymore. The weight of anger, guilt, and pain pushed her to a breaking point. She was on the verge of breaking, but she needed to say what was choking her inside. She looked directly at Ellie, her breath heavy, eyes brimming with tears not just from anger but from the deep wound she had carried for so long.

"He killed the most important person to me, Ellie," Abby said in a hoarse voice, a mix of pain and outrage. "What did you want me to do? I saw my life being destroyed right in front of my eyes. You think I could just... ignore it? He destroyed everything I loved, everything I had! I just wanted him to feel what I felt. I had nothing left!"

Ellie stared at her, her face marked by the pain of her own losses, but Abby kept going without stopping.

"You think this was easy? You think it was a simple choice?" Abby screamed, frustration spilling out. "I didn’t want to live for revenge. I didn’t want to destroy you. But you have to understand, Ellie... he killed my dad. He killed my family. He stole the future I had planned. You want me to just stand there, waiting for life to continue? He did that, and the only thing I wanted was for him to pay. YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT THAT'S LIKE!"

Ellie stayed silent, her eyes fixed on Abby, but her words were still trapped. Abby felt the weight of those sentences leaving her mouth, as if she was finally laying her cards on the table. But nothing could erase what had already happened.

"And Lev?" Abby continued, calmer now, but still filled with deep suffering. "I never wanted him to suffer because of me, Ellie. I never wanted him to go through the same hell I did. But he chose to stay with me, he chose to follow me. And now, all I do is try to protect him, but it’s hard when the world only gives us this: pain. And don’t come at me saying it’s my fault. Because I didn’t ask for this."

Ellie wanted to scream, wanted to pull away from all of this, but Abby's words kept her there, firmly anchored in the storm that had formed between them. Her anger was fading, but in its place came another feeling, harder to process: understanding. Even though she still hated her, even though everything inside her screamed for revenge, Abby's words were sinking in, as if their wounds were somehow intertwined.

"I didn't ask you to do this to me, Abby," Ellie said, her voice lower, almost broken. "I didn't ask you to take Joel away from me. I didn't ask for this pain you caused me. But you can't just... justify what you did. The pain you caused me. The pain you caused yourself. You can't put all of this on him, or anyone else. He did what he did, yes. But you also chose this path. And it brought you here. Now, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna keep walking this path to the end and destroy everything around you?"

"I don't want to forgive you, Abby," Ellie whispered. "But I also can't carry this forever."

Abby nodded, as if she understood. "I don’t expect your forgiveness."

Ellie stood there, frozen, eyes fixed on some distant point, as if the very memory of what happened was about to drag her into an abyss. The silence between them felt like a weight, something pressing harder and harder on Abby's chest, but she knew she needed to hear what Ellie had to say. Whatever it was, she had to listen.

"Do you think this was easy?" Ellie suddenly said, her voice low, but cutting like glass. "Do you think I wanted this to end like this?" She took a deep breath, and the anger spilling from her words now mixed with something darker, something deeper. "Joel died thinking I hated him. He died thinking I was happy with him dead, Abby. And you have no idea what it's like to live with that."

Abby froze, her heart pounding. She didn't know how to respond. She wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in her throat. Ellie's suffering was far deeper than she could ever imagine.

"I saw him there, Abby. I saw him lying on the ground, bleeding. I saw the life leaving him... and what did I do?" Ellie let out a bitter laugh, almost like a choked sob. "I looked at him, and the only thing I could do was... say nothing. I couldn’t tell him I loved him, Abby. I couldn’t. I just looked at him and let him think I hated him, that he had destroyed everything. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t say that wasn’t true."

She took a step forward, eyes wide, intense with pain. "I killed him again, do you understand that? I killed him again in my head, every day. Every time I think of him, it’s like I’m killing him again. Because he died thinking I really hated him, and that pain... that’s the worst of all, Abby. He... he died with the certainty that I... that I wished he was dead. I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t say a word, and he left thinking I felt nothing. And that... that’s what consumes me. That’s what breaks me every day."

Ellie's voice wavered, and she seemed to pay attention to her own words, as if she was trying to find some kind of answer within herself, some way to justify what she did. But instead, the anger returned.

"And you know what’s the worst, Abby? I didn’t want this. I didn’t want him to die thinking I hated him, but hate... hate is easier to carry. I was so... I was so full of rage at him, for everything he did, for everything he made me do, that... I couldn’t see anything beyond that. I couldn’t see the man he was. The father he was to me. He died thinking I hated him until the end, and that... that’s what destroys me the most. He left with that lie in his head."

Ellie moved closer, now right in front of Abby, and the intensity of the pain in her eyes made the air feel heavy, unbearable. "I had hallucinations of him, Abby. I saw him all the time after he died. I saw him standing there, in front of me, looking at me with those eyes... telling me I was doing everything wrong, accusing me, telling me I had destroyed everything. I saw him and heard his voice telling me he could never forgive me, that I killed him again, that I killed what was left of us. He was there, condemning me, showing me how alone I was... and I didn’t know... I don’t know if it’s real or if I’m losing my mind. I don’t know if he’s still here, or if it’s just my head torturing me."

Abby felt her body give way with Ellie’s words. Each sentence was like a blow hitting her, each word a piece of Ellie’s pain embedding itself into her too. She didn’t know what to say, how to apologize for something she didn’t even understand. She wanted to scream, but instead, she stayed there, in silence, feeling the weight of what Ellie had shared.

"I... I don’t know what to do with this," Ellie whispered, almost in despair, her eyes lost somewhere beyond Abby, as if she was trying to figure out how to get out of it all. "I don’t know what to do with what I did, with what he thought until the end. I’m the reason he died thinking I hated him, and there’s no going back, Abby. There’s no wiping this away. He... he didn’t deserve this."

Ellie took a step back, as if exhausted from carrying those words, exhausted from holding that pain inside. "And that’s why I can’t... I can’t forgive you, because the pain you caused me is the same pain I caused myself."

Abby looked at Ellie, not knowing what to say. What could she say in the face of so much pain, so much truth? There were no words to return what Ellie had lost. There was nothing she could do to heal the wounds that were now exposed. But she knew, without a doubt, that the anger and hatred between them weren’t the same anymore. They were sinking into the same pain, the same ghosts, and the only thing left was silence, heavy, suffocating.

"I just... wanted him to know, Abby," Ellie murmured, her voice broken, almost a whisper. "I wanted him to know I loved him. And that, deep down, I knew he did what he did for me. But I couldn’t... I couldn’t say that in time."

Abby just stared at her, helpless, feeling Ellie’s pain as an echo of her own. She knew that, somehow, what remained between them now was something that neither anger nor hate could fix.

#ellie williams #abby anderson #abby the last of us #both

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ceo-of-kimona · 10 months ago

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So- I wanna take a second to just talk about Kim for a bit. She’s pretty nifty right? A top notch blorpo.

Probably her most famous feature is her consistent aesthetic which I can only describe as “fuck you I hate you die die die”

But of course- like many of the other Scott Pilgrim characters, this “cool” aspect to her is an extremely thin facade to so many issues.

Now while it would be extremely fun to talk about those issues in detail, I want to keep focus on this “misanthropic punk girl” front that she puts up and how it relates to who she is inside. This sarcastic, snappy mask is probably what’s responsible for her being one of the more “cool” characters in the comics, as at first it is extremely convincing.

By seething at everyone and everything around her (especially Scott, our POV character) she’s able to keep her friends, and by extension the audience away from the truth of who she really is. That being: a scared lonely girl who can barely get over anyone or anything in her life and is constantly getting herself stuck in ruts. She isolates by pushing away those who even come barely within her orbit.

But, what I am here to posit is the question of what lies beneath that? More specifically, what is Kim Pine like when her angry walls are broken down and the broken girl inside is healed? Who is Kim Pine beyond the misanthropic mask and the trauma? Who is she when she’s just okay?

My answer to this is simple: a huge fucking dork.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t think Kim’s entire personality we see is a mask; that would be ridiculous. While I do think a lot of her aggression towards other people is just her way of isolating without needing to be accountable for it, she is still Kim. She has a sharp tongue and sarcastic remarks ready on command. Her wit is unrivaled. She can destroy anyone’s self esteem in seconds with just a few remarks. But when she’s open and close with someone (perhaps a certain Ramona flowers) she’s completely disarmed and thus barely has any “cool factor” left. Come on, she’s literally in a band named after a Mario enemy. Of course she’s at least a little bit nerdy.

This is a big thing: Kim’s mask provided most of the “cool factor” that she had. This is a running theme within the comic; many of the “cool” parts of these characters range from thin facades to unhealthy coping mechanisms. Scott dates a high schooler and generally puts on a cool guy rockstar facade to hide his feelings of inadequacy and loneliness, Ramona has a facade of being a cool girl who’s always running away so she’s always “new in town” when really she’s slowly being sealed within her own mind by her own self hatred, Knives dates Scott in order to deal with her dissatisfaction for her normal everyday life and adopts the ninja persona in order to compensate for her obsession with Scott, Wallace sleeps with a bunch of guys to fight his ongoing crush on Scott, and Kim puts on a “I don’t even like other people so it’s fine that they run away from me” facade in order to make her abandonment issues and loneliness look cool.

I’d like to propose that when she needs to leave this prickliness to be with someone she loves, she doesn’t really have much “cool” left underneath. She rambles, she nerds out, she awkwardly stumbles over her words when having a conversation more in depth than snarky remarks and disappointed sighs. In short, she’s just a dweeb like the rest of the cast. And we know that Ramona loves dweebs.

All of this healing and pure emotional honesty: it’s something Kim has never had to preform in her entire life. Ramona is quite possibly the only person in Toronto to ever see the real Kim Pine: the nerdy, affectionate, caring, and sweet girl that she truly is. She’s the only one that was able to not see her as this girl-rage monster and look into her soul, and within her soul she only saw beauty. Most people who’ve loved her have only been with her whilest seeing the angry facade thus their love was doomed to be surface level. The closest anyone has ever gotten to breaking through was Scott, and he was too dumb and way too much of a high schooler to even get close to letting the light in.

But Ramona not only saw her ferocity and loved it for what it was, but also was able to see deeper into her and that only made her love Kim even more.

And perhaps, Kim had done the same for Ramona.

#kimona #rant post #kim pine #ramona flowers #argegegehehhhhh finally another rant post #I needed to get a bunch of shit out sorry if this was kinda incomprehensible #I’ll try my best to edit it into readablity #but if you couldn’t understand a word of what I was saying just know that I tried my best

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gazs-blue-hat · 1 year ago

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Loving Something So Broken

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Gn!Scarred!Reader (can be read as platonic or intimate)

Word Count: 1,017

AN: inspired by conversations had with @plumteaa-remus

TW-Scars, SH mention, self loathing, body dysmorphia

Summary: Simon is friends with a heavily scarred reader. She is confident in her scars and he wants to know how.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO ANYBODY HERE OR ON ANOTHER SITE TO REPOST, COPY, TRANSLATE OR FEED MY WORK TO AN A.I OF ANY KIND.

GIF by naturecopy

Simon stood at the sink basin feeling disgusted. The mission they had just completed left him with a nasty gash on his temple, one that needed to be stitched. Since he refused to see the medics about it, he was left stitching the wound himself.

Now Simon was no stranger to stitching himself up. He’d done it hundreds of times. But even if he had done it thousands of times, it would never prepare himself for the face he saw in the mirror.

Dark brown eyes that looked oh so tired gazed back at him. He couldn’t stand his face, he absolutely hated it.

The man staring back at Simon Riley was a monster and he knew it. The face of a killer and a man so broken that even he didn’t know who he was.

That wasn’t completely true though.

Simon knew the man that was looking back at him. The same brown eyes were the ones that haunted his past. The same eyes that took him to dirty concerts and made him laugh at death. The same eyes that forced him into the mold he had broken.

Simon looked in the mirror and saw the face of his father.

Simon felt rage well up in his soul as he lifted his hand and punched the mirror to pieces. He didn’t care that his hand was now bleeding. He didn’t care that someone probably heard the mirror shattering. All he wanted was to destroy the face he saw in the mirror.

He didn't hear the door open to his room, and he didn't hear the door of the bathroom opening. He didn't know when he had started crying, but he was well aware of the arms that held him softly and pulled him away from the sink.

“Hey…Simon…hey..” a voice in his ear, a soft one that he knew so well. The voice that told him jokes while waiting for exfil. The voice that hummed lullabies to themselves before they fell asleep. It was you.

“I’ve gotchu. Breathe Simon…” they cooed. Simon clutched at them and buried his face in their chest. He could see the scars that littered their arms and legs. They never hid them, never even tried.

You led Simon to his bed and allowed him to collapse into you. You gently helped him to the floor and hummed sweet words to him. He curled into you, his entire form being sheltered by you.

You knew what it was like to hate the face in the mirror. You understood how it felt to have marks on your body that you despised. But unlike Simon, you had grown to love them. Even the scars from your blades years ago that never seemed to fade completely.

You didn’t tell him to stop crying, or to relax. You knew those words wouldn’t be helpful. He just needed to get it out of his system. Simon was always strong for others, but he rarely was strong for himself.

You gently started to rock back and forth, holding his head with one hand and his hand with another. He squeezed your hand as if it was the only thing tethering himself to this world. The only thing that was keeping him from sinking into the depths of his misery.

Simon soon stopped sobbing, Re placing it with hiccups and sharp inhales.

“I know. I understand.” You whispered. He kept his head pressed against your chest, listening to your beating heart.

“I hate it. I hate them.” He choked out. You nodded, tracing a series of lines on his bicep.

“We all do at first.” You replied, your words kind and honest.

“You don’t hate them. You always…show ‘em off.” He mumbles. You exhale sharply through your nose, a laugh.

“I didn’t always do that. I used to cover them up in all the time. The amount of times I almost got heat stroke from wearing long sleeves and pants in the middle of summer is frankly embarrassing." You say softly. Simon knew you wouldn't lie to him, and he knew that you really meant the words you said. "What made you stop hiding them? What made you stop hating yourself?" He asked. He was sitting up now, but still sitting between your legs. He needed that comfort right now and you were more than willing to give it to him.

"I never stopped Simon. I still hate what I see. I still regret those scars that I caused myself. But I always have to think that they are reminders." You whisper as you start running your fingers through his hair. You were still rocking him back and forth while he held onto you tightly. You could tell he was coming down from his panic. "They're reminders that I'm alive. That I was able to pull myself up and live even though everything around me was trying to kill me." You gently pull him away and direct his head to your forearm. "That's from when I fell on a mission and a rock sliced my arm." You point to another one on your hand. "This is from when I told my friend I could do a front handspring and I missed my mark, breaking the bone." You point to one that goes along your wrist, horizontal. "This is one from Highschool when I was at my lowest point." You then gently place your fingers under his chin and direct his eyes to yours. You press your forehead against his and wipe some of the lingering tears away. "Your scars prove to the world that it couldn't kill you. That you were able to live and to heal from the injury. Sure it might have left a mark on you, but that only shows that you're still going. That you're refusing to let things knock you down." You say. Simon closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He knew he could believe you, you were somehow always right. "You're here Simon. You're here and I'm so proud of you."

And for once in his life, Simon felt proud of himself too.

#simon riley x reader #call of duty #angst and feels #to be linked

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sofasoap · 1 year ago

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I would like to apologize for the spam liking but I couldn’t help myself. Once I started reading the Lastochka series, I couldn’t stop until I read everything! I think that you single-handedly made me fall in love with Nikolai and I thank you for it!!

Like playing with Russian roulette, even Lady Fortuna's luck runs out.

This is hands down one of the best lines I’ve ever read anywhere! I was literally frothing at the mouth after reading it!

Nikolai screaming “SHE IS MY WIFE!!” will forever be seared into my brain.

"My brother in law."

"I am not your fucken brother in law."

"Yes you are."

"I didn't agree for you to be in my family. grabbing the glass of vodka Sergio offered to him, he sniffed it before taking a sip. " Steaming Jesus, this is some strong stuff.?

"Best Russian Vodka you can get out there".

"Hm. still a bit short compared to the best Scotch whisky." Soap remarked.

Awww, they’re bonding!!

"I am sure my Russian charm will win them over very quickly." Nikolai laughed.You rolled your eyes, his optimism and ego never cease to amaze you.

His charm will win me over any day.

The crack fics literally made me fall over laughing! Like she was more worried about her floors than marrying him. And the “don’t worry, I’m from Russia” taxi meme had me struggling to breathe. 😂😂😂

Also his nicknames for her…..if anyone calls me those I will marry them on the spot!!!

Your Russian was pretty spot on, coming from someone who is part Russian, so you have nothing to worry about on that end! Side note off of that: Anya is also one of my nicknames so it was fun to see it pop up in your story!

I cannot wait for the rest of your Lastochka-Raging Waves series and more Nikolai stuff from you!! Thank you so much for introducing me to this!!! 💕💕💕

First of all… let me give you a hug *hug hug hug* spam reads are always welcome here on this blog ( unless you are a bot lol )

Second.. * deep breath in *

@siilvan @nrdmssgs @gamergirlbones @roosterr @homicidal-slvt we have another victim for the club!!!

Welcome to Nikolai club, or we have another sub-branch, Slavic man club. * handing out brochures * here you will find Nikolai, Makarov, Yuri, and my secret love, Sobieslaw "Gromsko" Kościuszko

I am so happy I have another tick of approval from another Russian speaking person!!

Oh Nik and Soap has this love hate relationship with each other. Poor Mini is the one to keep the equilibrium, keeping the Russian Bear and Scottish Unicorn in check.

As for crack fics… dont ask me what I have in my brain as well when i started it lol. I have a lot of fun throwing crack ideas in, i just want to share my wacky ideas with you peeps out there 😝

Seriously when I started this series I didnt even think too much of it, until middle of it I started to notice there’s other Nik lovers out there slowly crawling out. And to you guys, thank you so much for the support!

Ill try my hardest to make Raging waves a decent series, even if it burns my brain and souls out…,

And again, thank you so much, you have no idea how happy I was waking up to this ask *hug again *

#ask and answer #asks #call of duty #nikolai cod #lastochka series #sofasoap writes #thank you so much

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memphisnovels · 1 year ago

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Evermore

Chapter 3. Right down the line

Masterlist

Previous chapters: 1, 2

Chapter 3 is here you know what that means - Chapter 4 is Pietro time!

This chapter is more of a Chapter 2 Part 2 where we get a better look at Nadia and Anna’s friendship as well as her introduction to the Avengers [If you are chomping at the bit to get to Pietro you can skip this part, but it definitely adds to Nadia’s lore and there’s some soft Nat content]

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: canon-typical violence, angst, flashbacks to Nadia and Natasha's past, some platonic fluff

“My love?” Her voice was groggy when the line connected prompting me to check the time on my watch.

“You were sleeping, I’m sorry it’s 10pm here so it’s…”

“3am here.” She laughed. “You never have to apologize for giving me a ring, hearing your voice is worth a little lost sleep.”

I’ve lived here for four years; you’d think I’d be used to the time difference by now. It was still strange to me, living so far from Anna. It was not a simple task to describe what she meant to me. As it turns out, she was not a liar, she did stick by me, Abeni did help me release the red and it was the most terrifying experience of my life. There were weeks when I felt nothing but terror so pungent my body stopped functioning, there was agony for months, I lived inside my mind, within those four red walls, until I didn’t. It was not all at once, a single treatment and I was normal, I’d known nothing but Dreykov and the red room from the age of five, it did not leave so easily; it clung to the very essence of my being and still sometimes I blink and for a moment all I see is red. It stuck with me, every moment of it, I live it and I carry it every day. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be completely free of it, but I am sure, with not a single shred of doubt, that Anna saved me.

When I sit with it late at night it is no longer Dreykov’s voice which rings in my ears but Anna’s. It is her telling me I am not alone, that the rage is there but it is not a hindrance, it is powerful, and it is mine.

“I just finished an assignment.”

She hummed. “The arsehole who embezzled foreign aid money?”

“The very same.”

“Top job, Nards.” I was silent then as I picked at a stray thread on the coat I wore. “What is it?”

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. “It… He… Fury wants me to join his stupid initiative.”

“I heard about that, he’s got some fancy name for it and everything. He’s asked you before, no? There’s something more that’s upsetting you.”

I nodded even though she could not see me. It was uncanny to me to have someone who knew me so well, someone who could almost read me when not a single other soul had ever been able to, well save for one other person, the one I still dreamed of every night. “He told me who was on board, I already knew about Tony Stark, the Captain, Banner and I’d heard rumors about Clint but then he said someone else.” She was silent on the other end, the thing about knowing someone as well as she’d come to know me, is that it’s a two-way street. “You knew.”

“Natasha Romanoff? I suspected.”

“But you didn’t think to share your suspicions?”

She sighed and I heard shuffling on her end, she’d gotten out of bed evidently. “I’m so sorry, Nadia, I didn’t want to keep it from you, but Fury said he wanted to be sure about her joining the team before anything was discussed with other agents.”

“Other agents? Anna, I am not some faceless S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, we don’t keep things from each other.”

“I know that… I know, I hate that I let you be blindsided, I’m sorry but I didn’t want to interfere in all the bureaucratic bullshit. I just wanted to let things be set in stone before I even worried you with any of it.”

I shook my head, beginning to pace the floor of my little studio apartment. “ерунда” Bullshit. “You lied to me!”

“I did not lie, Nadia, I withheld information. It was wrong, I know that I said I’m sor-”

“No, stop, stop apologizing, you never do anything you don’t want to do. Don’t use your semantics shit on me, I’m not your subordinate, we are family, that’s what you said right?”

My stomach was churning, heart thrumming against my sternum. I slide down the wall, clutching at the roots of my hair. “We are family, Nadia.”

“No! You are just like them. That bureaucratic shit, that’s you, Anna!” I was being facetious; I knew that, and I hated it, but I couldn’t stop. It was like there was white-hot venom pumping through my veins where my blood used to be. “We are not family, if we were family, you would not keep something like this from me.”

“Nadia I-”

I cut her off. “Fuck you, Anna.” Hanging up abruptly and throwing my phone across the room.

She called back, repeatedly. I chose to throw myself back into work rather than answer her calls.

Two weeks passed, I completed a new assignment and avoided Fury’s incessant encouragements about me joining the Avengers initiative. When Anna stopped calling, I was initially worried, it wasn’t like her to give up so easily, but then I remembered that she’d told me she’d be away on a weeklong covert assignment. It wasn’t normal for us to go this long without speaking, though I was certainly not going to pick up the phone, not after what she had done. When two weeks turned into three, I wondered if I was even still angry at her, or if I was just being vindictive at this point. I’ve been told I have, rage issues… to put it lightly. On occasion, more frequently than I’d like to admit, I would become so completely encapsulated in my fury that there was no reason in the world that appealed to me. It was as though, suddenly, everything would become so dark and infuriating that not even the brightest light could get through to me. I’d had therapists before, they weren’t particularly effective, not when I didn’t trust anyone enough to explain how that blinding rage which simmered away within me had come to be. Anna and Fury had nudged me to continue attending but I’d found sitting in those luxurious offices whilst having a perfectly polished individual poke and prod at my brain to be more grating than any other endeavor. However, if I wanted to remain in Fury’s good graces, and more importantly in his employ I had to seek some kind of aid to my particular inflictions.

“I was 16 when it happened. I didn’t sleep properly for months afterward, every night I would just lie in bed and picture his face, the blood, I couldn’t focus on school nothing really seemed to matter to me anymore. It was like this huge gray cloud had been cast over everything suddenly.”

Peer support group was my chosen path. Was it infallible? No. Did any of these people have past comparable to mine? Also no. PTSD support group was a complex thing, there were times when it felt undoubtedly pointless to me. How could I relate to any of these regular people or their regular problems, but then I started listening, albeit begrudgingly, yet nonetheless I listened, I heard their stories, and I was no longer so sure of our differences. There weren’t stories of the red room or anything remotely akin to it, however, it was the way that their experiences affected them which stuck with me. The words they were able to attribute to the emotions which lived inside of them that kept me coming back. Despite, my initial reservations, the PTSD group helped, more than anything else I’d ever taken part in. Perhaps it was something to do with the overarching feeling of sitting in that circle, listening to people pour their hearts out, hearing the most painful moments of their existence, and knowing that here, in this old, sordid room, there was an understanding so profound it was almost impossible to describe. For just a moment it was as if you were no longer alone in it all.

“It’s interesting how you describe the gray cloud which was cast over everything. It is common for us to associate our feelings, our pains, with colors. I suppose it helps us categorize the moments. It could be interesting to go around the circle and say what color you see the more painful parts of your past in.”

As each group member shared around the circle, choruses of gray, blue, and black were named. Some people going into slightly more detail as to how things looked to them, I listened to each person intently, taking in their words and considering them. When it was my turn to share, I was almost startled, I realized in that moment that in all the months that I’d been attending this particular group, not once had I shared. Glancing around the circle, a few eyes sat on me, waiting patiently for me to speak up, while others looked elsewhere, alleviating some of the tremendous pressure. I swallowed twice before looking toward my hands.

“No one needs to feel pressured in the slightest to share, this is all at your own individual pace, there are no right and wrong ways to heal.”

I blinked rapidly, wanting this to be over, yet also not wanting them to move on before I mustered the strength to speak. It was hard, excruciatingly so. I felt as though I’d swallowed glass in that moment. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes lightly, gripping the seat of my fold-out chair so tightly I was surprised I didn’t split a nail right to the cuticle. Still, there was silence in the room, still, no one seemed inconvenienced in the slightest. “Red. Everything was red.” I spoke up when I finally manage to find my voice.

Sitting on the steps in front of the building where the group was held, I stared at the screen of my phone, sitting open on the oh-so-familiar contact. The air was glacial around me, winter sitting heavy in the streets of New York, biting at my flesh and reminding me of the much more unforgiving climate I’d grown accustomed to in my youth. The line connected on the third ring. There was silence for a long while, eventually, I could take no more of it. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize, you were right. We don’t keep things from each other, our trust is built on honesty and faith and I will never keep something like that from you again. I was being an arse, I just- and this is not an excuse in the slightest, but I need you to know that I only ever wanted to do right by you, I thought if Natasha didn’t end up joining the team, telling you would have re-opened old wounds for no reason. I was trying to protect you, but I shouldn’t have done it by deceiving you. I am so sorry, Nadia. I mean it.”

She did not need to explain herself, not really. I knew she had valid reasoning; all she had ever done from the moment we’d met was look after me. She had never once lied to me; she was the only person in the entire world I could say that about.

“We are family, I’m sorry I said we aren’t, this is hard.”

“I know.”

I sighed heavily. “You think I should call Nick Fury, don’t you?” Anna’s light laugh filled the line; it was enough of an answer for me. “I do not want any part in his little band of merry men.”

“I don’t think you should do anything you don’t want to, ever. That said, I think this is different to what you’re expecting, Nards.” She paused momentarily, I remained silent, awaiting what she would say next. “You know how I feel about Nick’s initiatives, but this feels different. I think it could be the real deal, admittedly it’s a motley crew, but I see something there, and maybe I’m just an eternal optimist, but I really think it’s something that could change the world.”

…

“I’m glad you came around, Nadia.”

A scoff fell from my lips before I could stop it. “I did not come around to anything, this is a meeting only.”

“Of course.” The glint in Nick’s eye aggravated me immensely as if he knew something I did not. The moment I stepped into the room I was dubious, motley crew was an apt description.

The old war hero who’d been frozen for a lifetime, the meek scientist who on occasion turned green, the renegade madman who decided to don one of his own inventions to fight crime, and two S.H.I.E.L.D agents. I nodded to Clint before my eyes fell on the woman next to him, the woman I had not seen in 10 years, my closest friend in the red room. There was a time when I considered her family, her, and Yelena, it was the three of us together against all else. Now, looking at her had my blood turning to ice in my veins. I did not know what to say to her, she had escaped the red room before me, I was so much younger. There had been a time when I’d resented Natasha for leaving us, for abandoning us in that place. For a while, I blamed her, loathed her for how much worse things became after. The interest Dreykov had taken in my particular potential as a trained killer alienating me as his prodigy, his star pupil. I did not know if I still resented her for it, part of me wondered why she never came back for us, but another part understands more wholly than I’d ever understood anything in my life. In all fairness, I too had left a life behind, Yelena. I thought about her constantly, though, my defection from the red room had not exactly been planned, I believed I was dead, everyone else believed the same. There was no going back for me.

“Team, this is agent Nadia Pimenova. Here at S.H.I.E.L.D, we call her Shadow Singer” The codename made a shiver tremble down my spine. It was not a name that had been earned lightly, not for positive attributes, but one that had been selected after I’d proved through a penchant for psychological warfare, luring out the darkest side of a target to make them confess or simply to win the fight. “I believe Nadia will be an asset to this team, however, she’s not entirely convinced we have much of a team yet, so let’s sell her on the idea.” I rolled my eyes heavily at Fury’s words.

The captain was first to step toward me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Agent, I’m Steve Rogers.” He held his hand out for me to shake, though I simply glanced down at it with an unimpressed look.

“Really? Steve Rogers, I did not know.” A snort sounded, causing my eyes to fall on none other than Tony Stark who sat on the conference table with a cool, disinterested countenance. “Are we not supposed to be somewhat enemies? What with you being Captain America.” I put extra emphasis on his title, splaying my hands out for theatrical effect. “And me being… Well, there’s not an easy way to say this but, a Russian.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “The cold war was a little after my time, kid.” It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “I think you’ve got me wrong. My allegiance to America is to freedom and liberty, not an arms race.” He was exceptionally boring I decided in that moment. Boring but harmless.

“Alright, gramps, I’m pretty sure she was just giving you a hard time.” Stark cut in holding his hand out to me also, I rolled my eyes at the gesture, why do people insist on this menial social behavior of shaking hands? “What? You trying it on me too? I get it, the whole cold and perpetually jaded thing you’ve got going on, honestly it reminds me of me. Which is why, unfortunately for you, it won’t work on me.” I remained silent at his words.

“She doesn’t like being touched.”

My body tensed at the sound of her voice. I remembered when we met for the first time, how could I forget? It had been so terribly cold for hours and I hadn’t the slightest idea where I was, nor where I’d come from. I was sitting in the corner of a shipping container; I suspected that I had been there for days. Days without food, sharing water with other girls who were in there as well. Natasha had come and sat beside me, holding my hand and assuring me it would be alright. She was older than me and while she was afraid, she seemed to know what was coming, a little blonde girl sat on the other side of her, Yelena. I was 5 years old, and I’d never felt fear like that before, but Natasha somehow made me think that just maybe, everything would be alright. She never once let go of my hand.

I could not avoid it any longer, my eyes met hers finally, she looked different, more grown up. She’d been 18 the last time I’d seen her. “You sound different, still you but there’s a little more American there now.”

“You sound the same.”

She smiled slightly at my curt tone, but her expression turned mildly sullen after a moment. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I stood silently for a moment, not quite sure how to respond to her. “And you are the green one,” I gestured toward Banner before continuing, “how lovely we are all acquainted now.”

Fury took the reins then, sitting us all down and giving what I supposed was meant to be a pep talk to promote camaraderie between us. I was still unconvinced that this group would ever be a team. Whether it was sheer morbid interest or some kind of unconscious faith I found myself offering Nick Fury a look that he understood meant, ‘I suppose this will do’.

I leaned against the side of the building; eyes closed as I breathed in the particular smell of New York City. A little acrid with air pollution, and the smell of hot dogs from the nearby street vendor wafting toward me on the icy breeze. There was a dampness that sat heavy around me as the frost melted and drained away into the gutters. The sounds of traffic and the buzz of chatter on the streets anchored me to the city which enveloped me, it was perfect. My eyes opened as footsteps neared me, I could feel her eyes on me long before she spoke.

“This suits you.” I glanced toward her. “New York.” She clarified.

Silence sat heavy between us for a long moment.

“How long have you been an agent?”

“A while… you?”

I laughed dryly. “A while.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw her lips turn up. “Touché.” It was strange, to be standing here beside her under these circumstances. She wore a pencil skirt, and her hair was loose, I wondered if she still had nightmares about the Red Room. “How’d you get out.” Her voice cut through the silence like a knife through paper. I met her gaze, mouth remaining shut. “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me. This is weird, I’m not really sure what to say, Nadia.”

The windows rattles as rain pinged off the glass, the air was balmy, humid as summer bared its teeth. It was my first time in Portugal and my body was unused to the heat. I focused on what I could hear around me, rain, thunder, wind whistling, and running water. There was an artificial yellow glow streaming out through the crack in the door, beneath it stood Natasha, her red hair pinned neatly behind her ears as she wrung out a cloth in the dingy old sink. I pressed my hand harder to my leg, the once white towel turning crimson, today was my 13th birthday and I’d never been shot before. I had been punched, slapped, kicked, even stabbed but never shot. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, and not at all how I’d expected it. I remember the first time I shot someone, I was 11 and I’d thought it would be just the same as shooting a target; it wasn’t. Having watched others get shot and having pulled the trigger before myself I thought I knew what it would feel like to receive the bullet.

At first, I hadn’t felt anything. In training, they tell us even when there is pain you must keep going, you must finish the mission. Pain is temporary, pain is weakness leaving the body, that is what they say in the Red Room. I wondered if maybe the pain had waited for my signal to begin, waited until the mission was done to claw its way to the surface and make its self-known. Now there was nothing but pain, it burned like fire licking at my flesh and tendons.

“Don’t pass out.” Natasha pressed the cool, wet cloth to my forehead that was beading with sweat. She watched me cautiously for a moment before moving to my leg. I flinched when her hands landed on the side of my leg. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to bandage your leg, so you don’t bleed out.” I lifted the towel to see the hole in my suit that revealed a dark circle of marred flesh. “It’ll be okay, I think the bleeding’s stopped so that means it hasn’t hit anything too bad. I’ll just take the bullet out and we’ll wrap it up, when we get back, they’ll stitch it properly.” She pulled out some tweezers from the first aid kit she’d found going to work on getting the bullet out of my thigh. I gritted my teeth as the sharp metal scraped my wound. “It hurts, I know. Don’t worry I’ve done this a couple times before. So, where are you from?” I glanced up at her, my chest rising and falling rapidly as pain seared through me. “As in, where did you come from before you got taken to the Red Room with Yelena and me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh… I don’t really know where I’m from either.” Tears gathered in my eyes as I watched her, it felt like the burning would never end. She met my eyes for just a second. “Have you ever been to America?” I shook my head at her. “Yelena and I were there for a little while, it’s so weird. They eat this food that’s like these little fried potato balls, they call them tater tots.”

She did not seem even slightly bothered by the stickiness of my blood that now coated her fingers. “T-tater tots?” She nodded.

“And they have these little cakes that come in plastic wrap and they’re like sticky and beige, guess what they're called.” I shrugged as best I could. “Twinkies.” It was a strange concept, a beige cake in plastic wrap. “But that’s not the best part, inside of them is this super sugary sweet cream. They are disgusting and delicious all at once.”

I felt my lips upturn as she spoke, a sound like a laugh leaving me. When I looked back down, she was almost finished bandaging my leg, the bullet laying on the white towel beside me, a sheen of my blood gleaming in the light. “That… that sounds good.”

She nodded, meeting my eyes once more as she finished tying the bandage. “It was.” Her hand was only slightly larger than mine as she squeezed around my fingers. “And one day… we’ll both get to have Twinkies.”

“And tater tots too?” I could feel liquid streaming down my cheeks as she nodded, in that moment it was hard to tell if it was tears or sweat but it didn’t really matter.

“And tater tots too.”

I rolled my neck, exhaling heavily, my air came in a white puff into the street before me. “You were right.” My eyes fell to my feet as I spoke, her gaze burned into the side of my head, but I chose not to meet it. “Disgusting and delicious… all at once.” For a beat, there was silence between us again.

A gentle laugh filled my ears then. “Fucking Twinkies.” Another beat passed between us.

“They think I am dead.” I finally said.

“You faked it.”

I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. “Not on purpose.” Finally, I met her gaze. “I thought I was too.”

“I’m glad you’re not.” There was an expression on her face that I did not understand, sadness, perhaps. “I’m sorry.” Guilt, I realized.

I shook my head again. “It was death… The Red Room. Don’t apologize for living.”

There was a tear streaming down her cheek when I looked at her again. “But I let you die.” I watched her, I wondered if this were just something she needed to say, something that had occupied her mind for a long time. It was hard, almost impossible for me as I reached out, my hand hovering over her shoulder. I had been punched, slapped, kicked, even stabbed… and shot, yet this was what terrified me. Slowly, cautiously, hesitantly, I let my hand fall to her shoulder, squeezing for just a moment before I pulled away and walked back toward the building where Fury was waiting.

Just to note: There won't be a chapter on the events of the winter soldier movie as I don’t feel that it progresses this story very much – there will, however, be flashbacks in later chapters referencing the events of Winter Soldier but there will not be a full chapter dedicated to it.

Thanks for reading

#pietro maximoff x ofc #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff smut #pietro smut #pietro maximoff x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #marvel avengers #mcu smut #mcu fic #avengers fanfiction #avengers smut #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #atj smut

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yandere-isopod · 3 months ago

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I got emotional and word vomited a love letter. This page is just my diary at the end of the day.

I hated everyone and everything before I met you. I didn’t have needs, and the only thing I wanted was death. The second I saw you it was like I was finally breathing for the first time. Everywhere you moved you left flowers. Every time you laughed there was more color in my world. I couldn’t remember how to talk or act. All I could think about was you and how badly I needed to be around you.

I’ve followed you through lifetimes and in this one, my soul knew that I was missing you. When I fell into your ocean I never wanted so badly to drown in something. I wanted to be consumed by your soul so desperately that it’s all I can think about even today. You became the reason to exist that I didn’t even know that I needed.

Wanting to breathe came with anxiety and fear. Any time you moved away from me I felt the darkness and self hatred start to swallow me up again. I had never felt fear before. Why would I be afraid if I didn’t have any self preservation to worry about? But fear consumed me because I finally had something that I couldn’t afford to lose and I wasn’t used to it.

I chased you. I hunted you. I didn’t care what you thought about me. I didn’t care what you needed me for. I just wasn’t going to let you leave me behind. The rage and terror drove my every move in our early years together. Nothing felt right unless I was with you. If I couldn’t be with you, I had no problem waiting in your room for you to get home.

I’m still lucky your dog loved me. It was easy to bribe him when I came in through the window. I still give him extra treats as he goes blind and he’s aged to the point I have to lift him up onto the bed. After all you’ve told me he was my wingman right? It was only cause he liked me that I got a shot with my goddess.

You would come home from school or as we got older, come home from work and you never looked upset to see me. You smiled and it melted away any negative feeling. The anger I felt at anyone who looked at you was forgotten. The fear that consumed me with your absence disappeared like it was never there. In those moments I couldn’t even remember I had ever been upset before. The panic and desperation blew away in the breeze made by the door opening.

I wanted to cage you. My lovely God, I wanted to keep you so badly it hurt. I never let you leave the room to get things. I did your chores and brought you food. It started as just wanting to care for you but it quickly spiraled. I was damaged and I’m still damaged. But you never lost that smile. I begged and cried for you to stay with me and you would gently hold me while I panicked. Then you coaxed out a backstory that I had never told anyone. Every disgusting detail and every vile thing that happened was bared to you.

I don’t call you my goddess because you were all soft and cupcakes and rainbows, I call you my goddess because you tore my soul from my chest and forced me to fix the most painful damaged parts of me. You held my heart with the gentlest touch when I needed it, but you weren’t afraid to force me head first into the raging tsunami that was my own trauma. And I needed that. I needed to realize what happened to me and I needed to clean out every part of that infected wound if I ever had hope of healing it.

You shouldn’t have had to fix me. It wasn’t your responsibility but you did. You patiently picked up all my pieces and taught me where they fit. Now you will never have to want for anything ever again. When I was a burning mass of flesh that was writhing in hell, you reached out and told me to climb for you. I overcame things that nobody I’ve ever met has experienced. Things that end up in horror stories. It wouldn’t have been possible without you.

I’m in a well respected position now. I work from home on my own time. I can buy you things and give you lavish vacations. You loved me when I was selling my video games to buy you chips at the gas station, I know you don’t require money to love me. But I can’t help but feel proud when I can surprise you with over the top gifts and dinners.

It’s been a decade. I’m still drowning in the most addicting drug that is your love. My heart never stopped pounding for you. Your smile never stopped making me feel like a fool. I’m still the same head over heels loser I was 10 years ago. Hell I still have the same desperate need to cage you. I can’t lie and say I wouldn’t love to lock you away from the world and spend every second of the rest of our lives just giving you everything I am and taking everything you are. But you waded through the darkest parts of my past with me, so I’ll control any part of me you want just for the privilege of staying by your side.

I love you. In case it isn’t obvious I love you. I love you so much. I didn’t know affection until I met you. I didn’t get hugged or cuddled as a child. The only touch I knew was beatings and the only relationships I had were hateful. This overwhelming feeling is because of all 17 years that I didn’t have to get used to it. I love you. I’ll say it with every breath and every kiss I give you. I’ll love you till the end of existence and back. I want to watch our love age alongside us. I’ll still carry you through the park when you’re too old to walk. I’ll feed you all your favorite sweets when hands shake with your age. My old heart will still beat for you under the wrinkles of my old age. There is nothing that I won’t do for you, and there’s no amount of time that will make me get used to you. I’m still that same hopelessly in love teenager that was skipping school to climb in your window cause I couldn’t wait to see you.

#yandere #irl yandere #yandere thoughts #yandere vent #lovesick #letter to my darling

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jtl07 · 1 year ago

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jt (finally) watches warrior nun - s1 e8 (pt 2?)

Okay so I’m dashing this off before this energy runs out but I had a further thought about s1e8 because for some reason I’m having a hard time moving on to e9 and e10?? idk why bc I definitely want to get to s2 I just … have no compulsion to watch the last two episodes of s1 it’s strange mostly around anger and fear (and yes, I am now thinking about Yoda and his whole “fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering” line which if I can do this right, will circle back to this line. Will I get there? Read on to find out lol).

So I’ve been rambling for a while now in my commentaries about Beatrice and her anger. There is just so. much. anger. in her. (I feel like anger and grief kinda run this show, or at least this season thus far) And it’s kinda fitting that the Sister Melanie story that she reads (and thus prompts her revelation) is one born from anger.

Yeah, I know she sidesteps Ava summary of the story as Sister Melanie “tapping into her rage” rather as her tapping into “something elemental in her soul” - but that doesn’t not mean she wasn't rage - rage is just as elemental as any other emotion.

It's just that anger gets such a bad rap - especially when it’s presented in/performed by people of color, not to mention a woman of color. I know lived experiences are unique, but as someone who’s lived that kind of experience - Asian, queer, female, raised Catholic, and a military background - anger was something that I know now is what kept me alive. It was the only way I could move past the trauma I had been dealt when I was younger, the only way I could find some sort of independence as a young adult. Anger was the only way I knew how to move in and keep remotely safe in the world - a world that had done so much to control and stifle me; a world where the only way I found I could provide value, the only way I could I could prove myself worthy of anything, was through obedience and loyalty and sacrifice.

So to see Beatrice angry in this episode, to see her snapping - even though it was at someone who hasn’t hurt her (i.e. Ava) - it was a bit therapeutic.

But not because she let herself get angry at Ava - but because she let Ava see the fear that was fueling her anger.

I wrote in my e4 commentary about how her anger is fueled by fear - how she calls out Lilith in the middle of a mission (fear of the OCS - her home, her family - being taken away from her), how she sends Camila away with the others so she’ll be the only one to retrieve the shield (extreme obedience and risk of self-sacrifice to prove her value). And I feel like that’s true here too. After Ava asks if she wants to talk about it, Beatrice immediately sidesteps, angrily focusing on the “moral” of the story - because if she doesn’t, she has no value to the Warrior Nun; if she doesn’t, she has to acknowledge the pain and fear that’s been driving her all this time.

And that’s the gift Ava gives her. I found myself comparing these Avatrice scenes re: Sister Melanie to that cave scene with Mary and Ava in e6. Why? Because both Beatrice and Mary take out their anger on Ava in those scenes - and Ava does not stand for it in either scene. She shoulder throws Mary, calls out Bea. When faced with other people’s anger, Ava does something really unique: she gets them to reflect on what’s driving that anger, that fear.

Anger and fear aren’t inherently “bad” things - it’s when we don’t acknowledge them, when we paint those feelings in a negative light and stuff them away that the problems start. And really, that’s what happens - case in point: after Beatrice saves Ava in s2, when she lets her “emotions blind her to the mission” (i.e. her fear of losing Ava), she basically goes into self-flagellation mode because she sees that as a Bad Thing TM (and yknow what? The Bad Thing she was really fearing still happens anyway).

But you know who’s given into fear and done beautiful things? Ava. Especially when saving Bea. I'm thinking of when she saves Bea from Sister Crimson in s1e7, then saving Bea from the wraith sin s2 - scenes beloved in the fandom, ones where Ava just goes with her fear, and anger, lets those emotions fuel her and the halo to do brilliant things.

And I couldn’t help but think that maybe why Bea hates her anger, her fear so much - because fear is really a sign of want. For Beatrice, she wants to keep her family safe, she wants Ava to live; she wants to be saved, wants to be seen as worthy of saving. But to want is selfish, to want is needy, and Beatrice can’t be seen as either of those things - can’t see bear to see herself as either of those things.

But Ava, gosh, she comes back to life feeling everything, doesn’t she? And how she lives makes everyone else also feel everything too. I don't think their emotions were ever "blinding" them - I think those were moments when they could truly see what was important.

Okay I think I’m all energy-ed out now. We’ll see if/when I get to e9 lol

#jt watches wn #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #more rambling lol #this time about anger and fear

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zep-writings · 1 year ago

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You Feel Like Home

CHAPTER ONE.

Warnings: Bad words, mention of war and military, fluff, loss of parents.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Ellie Barnes.

Notes: I do not own any of the characters present in this story, except for Ellie Barnes, an original character. This is pure fiction.

This has not been beta and English is not my first language so be nice haha.

Please give me some feedback, even just a small comment is really appreciated!

I've been working on this one for a while, so please let me know what you think!

You Feel Like Home Masterlist || Main Masterlist.

April 1943.

The 107th.

The words kept on resonating in Ellie’s head. Bucky was shipping out. He was leaving for London the next morning and she hated the idea. Since they had lost their parents in March and July 1933, Bucky was the only family Ellie had left. It had been ten years and, even if she still daily missed her parents dearly, she had managed to keep on living because of Bucky. Sure, she missed her mom’s tenderness, her hugs and her smile and she missed the way her dad always managed to make her laugh and the way he would play dolls with her without a care in the world, but she still had Bucky. Buck was her brother, her protector, her anchor and knowing that soon, way too soon to her taste, he would be fighting in the war raging in Europe terrified her to her very soul. Bucky was a good soldier, she knew full well, but it was war. He was young, he had just turned twenty-six and just the thought of ever losing him made her shiver.

“Are you listening to me Ellie?” Bucky’s soft voice raised, pulling his little sister out of her thoughts.

“Yes, yes. Sorry.” Ellie answered, offering a soft smile to her brother even if she didn’t have the heart for it.

“Talk to me Liz…” Bucky’s hand dropped to hers, gently giving it a squeeze.

“I just…” Ellie sighed, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m scared Buck… I can’t lose you too. What would I do if you…”

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Bucky cut her off and she looked up, her eyes stopping on those warm blue eyes of his that he had inherited from their mother and that she loved so much. “You’re not going to lose me, okay? I will come back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Maybe I don’t, you’re right. But I’ll do everything I can to, I can promise you that. But you know I have to do my part.”

“You sound like Steve when you say it like this.” Ellie whispered.

“Elizabeth Winnie Barnes, you are the strongest woman I know. You can get through anything, and you will be just fine, I’m certain of that.” Bucky said gently as he grabbed her face in both his hands and wiped off the tears on her cheeks.

“I still hate it when you call me by my full name. Makes feel like I’m in trouble.” Ellie snorted.

“I know.” Bucky chuckled, pulling his little sister into a hug and she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his torso.

Bucky was five years older than Ellie; he had always been the one to take care of her, he knew how strong she was, he had seen it but sometimes he wished he could do more to protect her from the world around them. When they had lost their parents, she had been his rock also she never completely realized it, but he had always needed her as much as she needed him. They were each other strength. He knew he could go fight in the war simply because he knew she would be home waiting for him when he will be coming back. He will fight and come back for his little sister.

It was Ellie’s 18th birthday, but she wasn’t feeling it. It had been almost seven years since her and Bucky had lost their parents, she always missed them in some way, but somehow today it was harder. She wished they could be here, celebrating her passage to adulthood with her and Bucky. She quietly sighed and rolled over in her bed, her eyes dropping on the picture on her nightstand. It was her favorite picture, George holding four years old Ellie in one arm, his other one wrapped up around Winnifred’s shoulders who had her arms around nine years old Bucky standing in front of her. All their smiles were genuine and the happiness on their faces was almost contagious. She sniffled a little, rubbed her eyes and rolled out of bed. She made her way to the bathroom and took a quick shower, cleaning herself up before throwing on a large pair of kakis pants with a simple black tee-shirt and same color cardigan. Ellie had always preferred pants to dresses or skirt, she felt more comfortable, more of herself and also it wasn’t the norm, she didn’t really care what people thought. After putting on some light make up, she made her way to the small kitchen in the apartment she had been sharing with Bucky for the last few years.

“Hey, you’re up early.” Ellie said softly noticing her brother was already up and moving around the stove.

“Happy birthday!” Bucky greeted her, a huge smile on his face and she couldn’t help but grin in return.

“Thanks Bucko.” Ellie snuggled into her brother’s torso for a quick hug.

“You haven’t called me that in a long time. Feels like I’m back to us being kids” Bucky dropped a kiss on top of her head.

“I know, but it still suits you.” Ellie grinned, kissing his cheek in return.

“Steve should be there soon; we’re having a birthday breakfast and after I thought you might like to go to Coney Island.” Bucky explained, stepping away from his sister to go back to the stove where he had started cooking pancakes.

“You know, we really don’t have to do anything special, Buck. I’m fine with just staying home.”

“No, huh-huh.” Bucky shook his head. There was no way he wasn’t doing anything for her today. “We’re not staying home. You’re 18 Liz! It’s a big deal. We have to celebrate.”

“We can celebrate here. Just you, me and Steve.” Ellie offered.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Bucky frowned, surprised she didn’t want to do anything.

“It’s just…” Ellie sighed. “I’m not sure I’m feeling like it, that’s all.”

Bucky suddenly noticed the look on her face, she was sad. “Talk to me, kiddo.”

“I miss them Buck… I miss them so much. I really wished they were here.” Ellie admitted, her eyes feeling up with tears.

“I know, sweetie. Me too.” Bucky grabbed her face, dropped a kiss to her forehead and gently pulled her into a hug.

They stayed liked this for a moment, Bucky rubbing her back, his chin resting on the top of her head, until the front door of the apartment flew open, and Steve appeared. His left cheek was covered in a bruise that had started to turn from blue to green, and his lip had a deep cut. The two siblings exchanged a quick look perfectly aware he had been in a fight, again.

“Again?” Bucky sighed looking at his best friend who simply shrugged.

Ellie pulled away from her brother and walked up to Steve, taking his face into both of her hands, a concerned and worried look on her face. Steve gently dropped his free hand on one of hers, the other holding up a small package, and smiled at her.

“I’m fine Angel. I promise.” Steve reassured her.

“You have to stop doing that Stevie…” Ellie whispered.

“You know I can’t do that. I don’t like bullies.”

Ellie sighed. She knew Steve would never give up on a fight, that who he was, but it didn’t make it easier to see him covered his bruises and cuts. He was a brave man who was always standing up to defend other people even if it meant bullies beating the crap out of him. Truth be told, it was one of the things that made him a good man and one of the reasons why Liz liked him so much.

“Happy birthday.” Steve changed the subject, handing her the small box in his hand.

“Thanks.”

It was that day Ellie truly realized that even if she kept on missing her parents dearly, she would always have Bucky and this little punk by her side. After breakfast, they spent the day just the three of them at Coney Island walking around, eating sweets and going on a few rides. In the evening, Ellie opened the presents the two men had bought for her, Bucky had purchased a golden locket inside of which he had placed a tiny picture of the three of them, and Steve had gotten her a typewriter, the kind she had her eyes on for a while. After that, they all settled into easy small talks.

“Come on, we have to go pick up Steve from the movies.” Bucky’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Ellie simply nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Without a word, she followed Bucky to his car and sat on the passenger seat as her brother started to drive away. She knew Brooklyn like the back of her hand, growing up here, she had always loved to wander in those streets, and she looked as they passed by so many familiar places, memories flooding through her mind. Ellie, barely four years old, and her father going for a stroll as she sat on his shoulders, Bucky walking by their side. Bucky playing catch with her when she was ten. Bucky and her, side by side as he held her hand after their mother’s funeral. Steve, Bucky and her sitting near Steve’s apartment after he had lost his mother.

“How’s nursing school going?” Bucky asked, stopping at a red light.

“Good, I think. It’s not always easy but it’s good. One more year and I’ll be graduating.” Ellie turned to look at him.

“I’m sure you’re going to make a great nurse someday, you know. Mom and dad would be proud.” Bucky grinned proudly. “Hell, I’m damn proud of you.”

“Thanks Buck. They’ll be proud of you too, you know. Nazis should be scared.” Ellie joked even if her head wasn’t much into it.

Bucky quickly squeezed her hand in his before the light turned back to green and he drove away. She looked back at the window, New York building passing by in front of her but soon enough the car came to a full stop as Bucky parked in front of the movie theater. Bucky came around to open the door for her, having a look around for his best friend but Ellie was the first one to spot him. He was in the small alley behind the movies, being beat up by a tall blonde man who was at least 15 centimeters taller than him. Steve had always been as stubborn as hell when it came to standing up to bullies and it wasn’t the first, and probably not the last time, he was getting his ass kicked because of it.

“Buck.” Ellie simply said, dropping her hand on Bucky’s arm and pointing at the spot where Steve was getting punched again, sending him to the floor.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” She heard her brother mutter before he stepped closer to his best friend, and she followed.

Steve was there, laid on the floor near a garbage can. Ellie hated to see him like this, she never liked it when he got hurt, and sometimes it was infuriating that he was never one to give up.

“Hey!” Bucky called out to the man bullying their friend, catching him by the arm and pushing him away from Steve and Ellie. “Pick on someone your own size.”

The man threw a punch toward Bucky who easily avoid it before the soldier punched him straight into the jaw. While her brother was kicking the bullies’ ass, Ellie went around him and without a word grabbed Steve’s arm to help him up. At the sight of his face Ellie’s heart skipped a beat. His bottom lip was cut by the side of his mouth, his nose was bleeding, and he was probably already starting to have bruises on other parts of his body from falling down.

“You okay?” Ellie whispered softly, her thumb brushing against the cut on his lips.

“I’m fine.” Steve simply replied, still bent over, his hands resting on his knees to stabilize himself.

Ellie sighed and was about to say something else, but Bucky was faster than her.

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched.” Bucky said, looking at Steve and bending over to pick up a piece of paper, as the bully ran away from them.

“I had him on the ropes.”

“How many times is this?” Bucky asked, opening up the enlistment paper his best friend had dropped in the fight. “Ah, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”

Steve brushed himself off, wiping the blood from his nose before his eyes landed on Bucky. He was wearing his kaki army uniform and it didn’t take long for Steve to understand why. His best friend was shipped out to war while he was staying here, in New York. He felt his throat tightened.

“You get your orders?” The blond man asked also he already knew the answer.

“The one O seventh.” Ellie answered for her brother as she exchanged a glance with Steve.

A simple look and Steve already knew what Elizabeth was thinking. He had known her long enough to be able to see the fear and concern in her eyes. She was scared, for Bucky, and a part of him was too. However, the dominant feeling in Steve’s mind was not fear, it was injustice. It was so unfair that James could go help out in the war, but he couldn’t because of his health issues.

“Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.” Bucky announced, a proud smile spreading on his lips.

Steve looked at him in his uniform once again and he shook his head. “I should be going.” Rogers declared, rubbing his hands together to get rid of the last dirt on them, a sad look on his face.

“Come on, man.” Bucky said cheerfully, placing his arm around his best friend and pulling him with him. “My last night! I got to get you cleaned up.” He added, pulling his arm off of Steve’s shoulders.

“Where are we going?” Steve questioned, walking by Bucky and Ellie’s side.

“The future.” The sergeant answered.

He handed the journal he was holding in his hand to Steve, throwing the enlistment paper to the side. Steve opened it and glanced at the front page which was stating: World exposition of Tomorrow. Bucky had been talking about going to the Stark exposition for weeks now and when he had asked Ellie to join them, she had agreed.

Ellie always loved to spend time with his brother and Steve. They were all so close and she cared deeply about both of them. In some ways, this was why a part of her was glad that Steve wasn’t going to fight in the war, at least he was staying home with her. She knew he hated the idea of staying behind, of not doing his part in the war effort, but selfishly she was glad he couldn’t enlist. Ever since she had met him for the first time when she was just a kid, Ellie had always had a soft spot for Steve. He had always been so nice to her, in the contrary of some of Bucky’s friend. He always made sure she was okay, always had nice words and the truth was, she had started to care for him more than she was ready to admit it. However, she never said a word about it to anyone, she didn’t feel like it was the right thing to do. After all, Steve was her brother’s best friend, he was the sweetest man on Earth, and she clearly didn’t think she deserved someone as amazing as he was. She was probably just like a little sister to him, at least that what she believed.

“You alright Angel?” Steve asked softly grabbing Ellie’s arm as Bucky sat in the driver’s sit of his car.

“Yes, I’m okay.” Ellie nodded offering him a gentle smile.

“Are you sure? I know it must be hard for you to see him go.”

There it was, Steve sweetness to its best, putting his own feeling to the side to make sure Ellie was okay. That was what he always did, taking care of anyone else’s, never putting himself first especially when it came to the Barnes’.

“I promise you, I’m fine Stevie.” Ellie reassured him, squeezing the hand he had resting on her arm, and he simply nodded.

Satisfied, for now, Steve, as the gentleman he was, opened the front door to let Ellie sat in the passenger seat. She offered him a smile to thank him and sat by her brother side as he turned the ignition on, Steve slipping into the back seat. The ride to the expo was pretty quiet, Ellie looking by the car window as they approached the huge parking lot. She had never loved crowds, it made her anxious, but having Steve and Bucky by her side always eased her mind. Plus, the exposition was a big deal and she had an interest in science. She stepped out of the car, quickly followed by her brother and his best friend, and took a look around. There was a huge globe resting in the middle of the hall and she was filled with excitement.

“Come on, let’s go see the show.” Bucky announced, slipping and arm around his sister’s shoulder as they started walking toward the entrance.

They passed by a few buildings and, by the spinning globe in the middle of the fair, Ellie stopped to take a look at a train passing on top of them. Ellie was amazed, her mouth slightly open in astonishment and Bucky couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the sight of her eyes sparkling with wonder. She had the exact same look than the one she had on her eighth birthday when their dad had bought her her very first bicycle and she had ridden it down the street they lived on at the time. Bucky pressed a kiss to her temple and turned a little more toward his best friend who clearly wasn’t as excited as Ellie, his hands pushed into his pants pockets, looking sad and disappointed. The Barnes’ siblings really hoped tonight would lift his spirit a little.

****

Chapter two

#marvel fanfiction #mcufanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x original female character #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #chris evans fanfic #You Feel Like Home #Ellie Barnes #bucky barnes #captain america fanfiction #OFC Ellie Barnes #Steve Rogers x Ellie Barnes

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inkribbon796 · 1 year ago

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Egotober 2023 Day 18: Retaliation

Summary: Anti is upset at Dark, Dark is upset because Anti keeps interrupting his business.

Prompt: Rage

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

Author hated the swamp. He loved putting his “characters” through the muck but Author loved the forest, not the swamp.

The young author was with Dark, who didn’t seem to care because he was using his aura to protect his suit as they were looking for something in the Everglades. If Author stuck close to Dark he was fine, but Author tended to get distracted and wandered a little bit a couple times.

One of those times Anti appeared right next to him. “Hey kid, I’m just bothering Dark. Wanna help?”

Author smiled back and set the end of his bat on his shoulder. “Maybe, what’s in it for me? Gonna leave me high and dry again?”

“Maybe, he’s not going to discorporate you now is he?” Anti said.

Author shrugged and didn’t say a word right up until Anti was about to pounce.

“Ahhhh! Dark!” Arthur shouted, making himself sound injured.

Dark immediately turned, aura already moving towards Author when he saw Anti.

“You son—” Anti managed before Dark actually attacked first.

Author laughed as the fight began to break out. As he watched the fight, Author felt better about the trek into the swamp.

“You degenerate cretin, I am trying to conduct actual business,” Dark switched forms. Her red aura taking over as Dark took her red soul’s form.

“I’m not done with you until I take your leg,” Anti said. “That’s what you get for taking Marvin from me.”

When Anti lunged for Dark again, she summoned her axe and used it to pin Anti down. Her expression became more serious. “I have nothing to do with a second-rate ghost hunter that lives across an entire sea.”

“He’s moving to Egoton because of you,” Anti said. “And you don’t get to have him.”

Dark used her aura to pin Anti down, placing her foot on his shoulder. She looked around before opening a portal to pull herself, Anti, and Author back into the Manor’s backyard.

“Arthur, go take a shower,” Dark told him.

“Come on,” Arthur said. “The fight was just getting good.”

Dark opened up a portal into his en-suite bathroom, “Go before I dump you directly into the tub like a seven-year-old.”

“Fine,” Arthur said and stomped through the portal like the broody teenager he was.

She closed up the portal and turned back to Anti. “If I let you talk, are you going to let us talk about this like adults?”

“Fuck off,” Anti said.

Dark’s foot dug into his shoulder. “I need information you have, if I don't get it, I will place you inside of one of my grandfather clocks in my personal office where Wilford likes to surprise me. And I will maintain this form to ensure your compliance. If you wanted to win fights you shouldn’t pick them with other people first before finding me.”

“Okay, fine!” Anti said and hesitantly Dark let him up. She made sure to personally pull her axe free.

“Fuck, what does Wilf see in you?” Anti massaged his shoulder as he was bleeding all over the back lawn right next to the croquet set.

“None of your business, why is Marvin coming and when?” Dark asked.

“Hell if I know, he is, as soon as his papers come in he’s taking the first flight over to your hellfire of a city and you don’t get to keep him.”

Dark’s free hand went into her hair. “You could have told me this instead of picking fights! I could have fought against this sooner. I don’t want your magician or any of your Septics in my town.”

“Yeah, cause they’re mine,” Anti said.

“And they can stay yours, is J.J coming with him?” Dark asked.

“No. Why? He’s mine.” Anti looked ready for a fight.

“Exactly, the only way he comes into my town is in a body bag. I want you to tell me what he’s planning and when he’s coming and Marvin is yours again.” Dark said as her axe disappeared.

“I don’t follow your orders,” Anti said.

“You’ll do it if you want to keep Marvin,” Dark said, and then she was gone.

Leaving Anti an angry, furious demon on her back lawn. Anti would take his sweet time getting Dark that info just to spite her. But he’d go pick another fight with Marvin just to try and soothe the rage in his soul.

#Egotober 2023 #Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Darkiplier #the Author #antisepticeye #angry glitch demon #Celine!Darkiplier #red soul Dark

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katyspersonal · 2 years ago

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Okay, about ‘gamer bros’...

I feel kind of... How do I explain it...? Like I’ve finally undergone a communion to become a TRUE Soulsborne fan. xd

Basically, I kept complaining about how people make up 'gamer bros' to get mad at because I honestly haven’t seen any if at all, it felt more like a cop out for the community to not notice their own faults at the expense of some abstract ‘white males’ you know? I even joked how seems like everyone in Soulsborne fandom has an item that lets them see the ‘dudebros’ but I skipped a questline to get it and that’s why all this stuff dodges me xD

But recently for SOME reason Youtube started to recommend me videos about how much Elden Ring “sucks” (I disagree) and comments are FULL of comments complaining about some Souls things in general, like ‘wahh grinding boring levels to get a useless item with information no normal person cares about’ ‘wahh boring repetitive boss why they didn’t do better’ ‘wahhh no one cares about some random NPC’ ‘wahh stupid boring map’ and just... Multiple of other comments that bash the decisions in the games that, essentially, were well-crafted to tell the story and characterise the world and depict the characters better. But some people actually see the devs’ wish to not only entertain with the PLAY but also tell a compelling story as something bad, evil and not belonging in the gaming?

(Beyond, of course, drooling for some female characters if they feel nice today)

My only introduction prior recent couple of months was second-hand because people were overthinking the implications of many gamers hating Malenia as a boss (that is not fair and gamer rage seems fair imo), and I still think it is understandable that people are so unhappy with the boss, but like... Currently I sensed just how WIDE is the rift between us (people who loredig, want to know more about characters, make theories and want to create headcanons) and them (people who cannot see past the gameplay point at all).

Now it feels like a necessary part of being in the fandom of Soulsborne games - to be hit in the face with the ‘not caring’. I mean I get this? Videogames are a fantastic way to tell the story by having you constantly engage to keep unravelling it, as opposed to spending hours on movies/series/books in passive manner? But there are many people that don’t, in fact, want some deep messages or complicated lore they should think about. Some people want more basic entertainment - violence, comedy, sexual appeal, cool sights, just activity in general, without all the complexity and big messages and that’s okay!

But Soulsborne games have layers - they do not pose themselves right off the bat as very complicated stories that can make philosophy professors of 30+ years of studying feel incompetent. They are positioned as videogames. For fun challenge. So they are saught for primary videogames experience - for beating challenging bosses and getting cool items useful in PvP in that, competition, fun jokes at the streams, all that. So I feel like this is the root of this sort of toxicity? When a movie is advertised as something that will make you think and feel - people in search for simple and basic fun just don’t buy tickets, they instead go see a movie that will make them laugh or give them a simple story about cool dude beating all bad guys with Style TM or starring “that super sexy actor :3″. But Soulsborne games are layered and in many cases it is hard to stay on one’s preferred layer. For example, if those gamers want to just play a game for violence+challenge aspect - they will, in fact, eventually find themselves having grinded hours for an item that gives nothing but lore - something they were not searching for. They thought if this place was so hard to access, then sure it’d give a reward that will let them kick other players’ asses in PvP, right? But nope! Lore. Some will appreciate the surprise and artistry, others will get angry.

So yeah, all in all, I think this sort of games is just fated to have ‘split’ fandom after all. There are many games that let the potential audience know right away that there will be some emotions and complex messages, so similar ‘gamer bros’ just turn around and go buy a different kind of game that just demands skill and stubbornness, without complexity, and is very clear and plain with challenge vs reward system. Being both ‘the challenge’ and the ‘super hard to decipher lore’ is a blessing AND a curse. In a way I am glad that Soulsborne games are so unusual, because for every 10 gamers that get frustrated and complain, there is at least one gamer that appreciated the lore craft and maybe even reconsidered how he* perceives the games- maybe even became a lore Youtuber.

#fandomry rambles #it was heartbreaking to read how much people NOT care about what us here hold so dear #and see as the POINT of the game #it all boils down to the 'plebs were not able to appreciate the art when they faced it' really fsdhfhds #but it is okay because if EVERYONE valued art then NO ONE would value art #it is more like a tastes test i guess?#that most people didn't expect or asked for #and even less appreciated #i am glad there are so many fans that love lore and characters though!#i just honestly never saw that the other side has just as many members o_o something to reflect on #just... so many gamers turned out to be upset at optional bosses and routes

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rwbwby · 1 year ago

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so Bitch McConnell is having health issues. i can’t wait to pull out the sparkling cider when he realizes he’s four decades past his expiration date and dies accordingly. the following is directed at those who are demanding we all pretend like this is some kind of tragedy.

listen, here’s the fucking facts: if you don’t want to “hold hate” in your heart or whatever, that’s fine. you do you. but don’t come to me, or to any of the millions of people Mitch McConnell and his ilk have devastated or killed through their actions, and beg for our tears out of “civility.” what, you think it’s “in bad taste?” oh, my stars and garters! jiminy fucking cricket! god forbid i offend your delicate sensibilities! allow me to fetch you your fainting couch!

if you want to take pity on his family, or pray for his eternal soul, or whatever else, that’s your choice. but those of you who would demand that everyone else do the same? what you want is comfort. what you want is to keep the waters calm. you want to remain in your happy illusion, a comfortable distance from real politics. and what you really, truly want is to act like you’re a better person by defending the “sanctity” of a cruel man’s worthless life—a man whose politics are so pointlessly evil that it’s hard to imagine any motivation besides greed and a thirst for power behind those dead eyes. you, you self-aggrandizing fuck, show off a great deal of privilege when you tut-tut at those who express their justified rage against this powerful piece of shit by praying he shuffles off what little mortal coil remains.

i grew up in a house where civility was demanded of us, where politeness was far more important than honesty. i know exactly what you people are doing, with your crocodile tears and your Christlike love. i find you and your demands reprehensible. i’m not like you, denying human emotions for the sake of keeping the peace. and if that makes me uncivil to you? if that makes me “no better than the animals,” as i’ve been told before, when i refused to pretend for the sake of someone else’s comfort? well, when this evil man finally dies, i will gladly write your criticism in flowing script, swallow it whole, find the cemetery where he’s been buried, and shit on his gravestone. just for you.

#skye speaks #mitch mcconnell #bitch mcconnell

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studiomkm · 1 year ago

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The Not-So-Friendly Face of Death

I am not usually a vindictive person. I am Death, the final person that people see when they leave the Earth to move onto the hereafter, and that comes with a literal eternity of perspective. Everyone is truly equal in death. Young, old, rich, poor… when the mortal coil has been shuffled off, nothing matters anymore. It is the ultimate peace, at least for those who have lived decent lives.

Life, unfortunately, does not share that same equality. The way people reach me varies in seemingly infinite ways, with never-ending variety. Before they enter my realm, I can do nothing for them no matter how much I sometimes wish to. It is only after they join me that I can finally exert my influence. I am almighty in my realm between life and the afterlife and I can do many things to help make things better. I can also do many things that make things much, much worse.

Rage burns in my eyes as I slowly start to form the existence that will interact with Julian DeSantos. I have been there for each and every single one of his victims, all 31 of them. I had to comfort 31 children as they were cruelly torn from the realm of the living after suffering horrific torture. They came to me, broken and traumatized in ways that no one that should ever have to experience, let alone anyone so young.

I used my power to take their pain and trauma away, to make it nothing more than a scene from a movie that they had just watched instead of experienced firsthand. Each of them chose to move on immediately to the afterlife, just to try and get away from the cruel memories of the lives that had been cut short for them. I hadn’t cried so much in decades.

“Must keep going. Must keep going.” Julian says as his spirit comes free from his dying body as it collapses onto the dirt in the Nevada desert.

“You’ll find that difficult, DeSantos.” I spit out his name as the visage that he’ll conceive me as comes fully into existence.

“M-mother…?” he squeaks out meekly as he turns his spectral head to look at me.

Of course I look like his mother. As his entire sick, twisted life becomes part of my vast store of knowledge, that fact makes perfect sense. His mother had been the root cause of all of his vileness. Not through any fault of her own, mind you. She just had a sick, twisted little boy who hated the fact that his mother spent just as much time with the kids of the orphanage she ran as she did with him. He wasn’t special enough for her and that made him violently angry.

“I’m not your mother, Julian DeSantos. I am Death.” I growl at him.

I have no choice in what form I take in front of any individual soul but that doesn’t mean I have no control over it. With most people, I would change little things like my hair or eye color or the shape of the face they unconsciously gave me. With Julian, however, I decided to go far beyond that. I twisted the form of his mother in the most nightmarish ways I could think of, with more than a little help from the many creators of horror stories that I’ve helped along.

My face contorted and became slowly skeletal, my eyes sunk into their sockets and my bones cracked and popped at unnatural angles. I made myself taller as my teeth became like shark teeth, endless rows of sharp, jagged terror. My fingers elongated and I decided to make my eyes glow an unearthly purple color, simply because it’s Julian’s least favorite color. By the time I’m finished I look like Margaret DeSantos had been molded by the imagination of Lovecraft.

Julian’s spirit screams and collapses onto his rear.

“Yes, Julian. You’re dead. All your many sins have finally caught up with you.” I tell him, making my voice deeper and more twisted with every word.

He runs. He can’t really escape me, nobody can, but I let him run for a few minutes anyway just to cultivate a false hope in him. I need this monster to suffer. I don’t know if he’ll continue to pay in the afterlife, since I don’t know what happens to those who move on from my realm, so I need to make sure there is real consequence to what he did. Like I said, death is fair. I make it so, sometimes with extreme prejudice.

I let a few minutes pass and summon a long chain with a rusty hook on the end. I could have gone for the traditional scythe but the chain will scare him more as it drudges up his own cruelties. He always enjoyed using chains and meat hooks. We’ll see how much he enjoys them now.

“You can’t run, Julian.” I say, knowing he can hear me no matter how far away he’s managed to run.

It takes me mere moments to speed across the desert and catch up to him. Based on the look on his face, he’d wet himself if he were still able to. He tries to crawl away from me but I’m done giving him any false hope of escape.

“You’re not among the living anymore, Julian DeSantos. There is nowhere you can go anymore, not without my say so.” I tell him as he whimpers and struggles in vain against the chains that rapidly wrap around his body.

I lift him up slowly once the chains are nice and tight on his spectral form. He screams and wriggles uselessly back and forth as I force him to look me dead in the eye.

“I was there for all of them, Julian. Every single one of those children you brutalized came to me after their suffering finally came to an end. I was there to deal with each and every ounce of pain and misery you inflicted on them. I was the one who sent each of them on their way to the world beyond this one.” I explain as my hands tremble from the sheer sorrow and rage that fills every last micron of my being.

My words get him to stop squirming and he turns to look at me. Suddenly, he’s not terrified anymore. Well, not completely anyway. Now his horror has turned to rage and I can feel all of it. I am not impressed.

“I was sending them to you?! Sending you more reasons to ignore me?! I AM YOUR SON!!!” he screams like an overgrown child throwing a tantrum.

“I am not your mother, Julian DeSantos. I am the being who governs the realm between life and the afterlife.” I say again as I slowly grow even larger with the sickening crack of bones, “I am there for all who die. You are not my first monster, nor are you my greatest. You are just a sad, sick, disgusting thing and you are not leaving my realm until I say so.”

I’m nearly 15 meters tall by the time I finish those words. The fear starts to return to him as he’s forced to watch the ground slowly get farther and farther away. Whether he chooses to look at me or not, I will not allow him to lose his fear. His victims deserve that.

“So what?!” he shouts as he shakes in place like a Chihuahua, “I’m already dead. What could you do, huh? You’ve got nothing because you are nothing!”

I don’t even bother answering him. Any further words would be wasted on this blight upon mankind, so I simply jam the rusty hook into his spectral body. He screams in a manner so blood-curdling that it actually soothes me just the tiniest amount. It’s far from the end for him though, so I let him drop the ground once I’ve grown to 30 feet tall.

He hits the ground with a thud, dispersing dust in a very rare interaction with the physical world. With anybody else, I’d have loved to spend time discussing it with them but I don’t want to deal with this man for too much longer until it’s time to finally send him on to the afterlife.

“I took their pain and trauma away, you know. All of your victims came to me broken and left me as healed as I could make them… but that kind of emotional energy doesn’t just flutter away, you know.” I say to him as I start walking, dragging him along the ground at the same speed as a galloping horse.

“I’ve held onto every last ounce of it. Every second of pain, every inch of fear, every ounce of hopelessness and every milligram of despair that every single one of your victims experienced is tucked away inside me, just begging to be shared. Would you like to know what it feels like?”

He doesn’t bother to answer me and I don’t bother to wait for him to answer. Instead, I transfer everything I took from those children into the chain and force it to travel down the chain. In a few moments, it will pour into him through the hook I’ve embedded in his chest and he’ll become nothing more than a screaming mess. I lift him up from the ground again and summon a dark void directly underneath where he’s dangling from.

“Julian DeSantos. For what you’ve done, I deny you the right to move onto the afterlife. Instead you will spend every single one of the years those children would have lived if you had not ended their lives suffering everything you inflicted on them. Until that time, you will be banished to my dark place along with the other filth that has stained the world of the living.” I tell him right before the energy of all those children’s pain pours into him.

He screams in the kind of agony that I am glad no human will ever be able to know in their life as I feel the sweet relief of my unloaded burden leave my body. I do not regret taking their pain into me for even a moment but neither did I do anything but suffer myself under it. I take a deep, cleansing breath as Julian continues to scream without end and for just the briefest moment, I feel a tiny twinge of pity for what he is about to endure.

“I will see you again in 2,170 years, Mister DeSantos. Oh, and if you see Hitler or Stalin in there, please do me a favor and inform them that they’ve only made it to 2021 so far.” I tell him casually as I release the chain.

His scream dies the second his head touches the empty void and a second later, the rest of him disappears completely. I’ve sent him where I send all those who I simply couldn’t let get away with the atrocities they committed in life. Perhaps I shouldn’t bother, as there might be a Hell that they go to when I finally allow them to move on, but I have no way of knowing if that is true. I simply refuse to take the risk that they’ll get to move onto something better without ever facing any real consequence for their actions.

Some of the souls I have met have told me that I overstep my bounds in doing so, that I should leave them to whatever the afterlife has in store for them. It’s mostly philosophers but more than a few good police officers have agreed with them. I simply tell them the same thing.

I am Death. In this realm, between the here and the hereafter, there is no greater being. No greater power for me to answer to. I am the beginning and the end and I have chosen to connect with humanity and serve the infinite parade of souls in whatever way I can. I include making sure that true justice is served, as that is my prerogative after embracing humanity.

In other words, nobody tells me what to do but me.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t take suggestions.

#short story #writing #creative writing #afterlife #all in death is fair #horror

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