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13tinysocks · 2 months ago

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My Dead Girlfriend

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

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

6 * Bad Dog [5.5k]

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

It turns out I was really the prey

Masturbating and waiting for the raid,

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

The Ruminant - Go Hang

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eyes twitch. Lips curl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angstrom ignores him. "Get me Mark Grayson."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

"You-!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

Two hours, you'd walked to find nothing.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Chaos. Total, absolute, chaos.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You get no peace or relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crisis averted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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1296-very-good-year · 5 months ago

Text

The thing that bugs me most about Caitlyn's arc is how obviously she was forced into the position Jayce had been set up to fill.

Jayce was the de facto head of the council that Sheriff Marcus (keep that in mind) reported directly to for city security.

He was the Golden Boy, Man of Progress, beloved by everyone in Piltover for the invention of Hextech! Charismatic! Handsome!

They didn't NEED martial law. After Jayce emerged unscathed from the terrorist attack, most of the council dead, Piltover would have been falling over itself to give him sole authority regardless of him wanting to quit the council right before the attack.

And Jayce should have been beside himself with rage! Jinx turned his invention, his dream, into a weapon that nearly killed him and the two people he loves most! Mel and Viktor, at the same time! She ruined his peace deal! (And killed Silco, but for some reason Cait and Vi never tell anyone about that)

But nope. He's just sad, and tries to talk Caitlyn down from wanting to kill Jinx.... Like wtf!! Where did his passion go?? His recklessness? Caitlyn got it all.

Let's say he's still reeling after killing the kid in his shimmer raid and fearing the consequences of violent intervention. Fine. But then there is the attack at the memorial. Now it's bigger than Jinx, and his entire city is threatened.

Picture the end of episode 1, with the council gathering in the basement after the memorial attack and it is JAYCE marching in to announce the strike team, with Caitlyn and Vi beside him, with their shiny Hextech weapons.

They didn't need to give Caitlyn political power. She could have become Sheriff under Jayce! She would have had nearly the EXACT same scenes. She doesn't get a single moment where she acts like a political leader in Act 2 anyway!

We never see her do anything the sheriff wouldn't do, which tells me this was a late change to cram all the remaining story into one season, to every character's detriment. If Caitlyn had just been following Jayce's orders until running into Vi, her flip would not have felt so jarring.

She loves Jayce as an older brother, she's grieving her mother, she and Jayce could have BOTH been manipulated by Ambessa. Let Caitlyn be at the forefront of all the awful shit she's ORDERED to do, instead of ordering it HERSELF.

By giving her ultimate authority instead, the few clipped scenes of her redemption, her "I know" and letting Jinx go free are nowhere near enough to get the audience back on her side. As evidenced by how many people hated her arc this season.

#jayce talis #caitlyn kirraman #arcane critical #jinx arcane #jayce and cait were done so dirty #EVERY character was #and the longer i think about it the more i see the bones of the story they probably planned to tell and i get MADDER #and yea it would have made people hate jayce who i adore #but at least he would have felt like s1 jayce #you can kinda see how jayce would deserve to rot in a ditch if he did play dictator but he DOESNT #his only morally dubious action in s2 is reviving viktor with the hexcore (which no one blames him for) and making Cait's sniper rifle #and he makes Cait a NEW sniper rifle after climbing out of the ditch anyway!!#arcane #arcane season 2

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worriedvision · 2 months ago

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Soulmate? - Dottore

Gender neutral reader, basically a soulmate au where reader bodyswaps with their soulmate, who they find out is Dottore. More crack than anything else if I'm honest lol

Being a Knight of favonius on shift, you were sleeping at the headquarters with your fellow knights. When you went to sleep, you heard Kaeya do his "Good night, everyone. Don't let the bed bugs bite..." Teasing, to which everyone knows to ignore.

What you didn't expect, however, is to wake up in a frosty room. Papers on a desk, a luxurious looking pair of hands decorated with gloves, and the suit your body was wearing led to you thinking this person was really important. Testing your hands, you see the finders move where you place them. Getting up, you look around the room to take in more details.

Lots of blueprints, information on test subjects, failed tests and passed ones...

And you realise at the desk your soulmate fell asleep on had these approvals needing signed by himself. Looking at the first paper, you're terrified to realise something you wished was a sick joke.

Dottore was your soulmate.

When you hear knocking on the door, you don't answer. Chances were, the person knocking on the door would be too scared to open the door and see Dottores next plan - or being part of said plan.

You think of the best way of dealing with this. Moving around, you figure out you have the chance to perhaps... Free his test subjects? Order agents to keep them safe, and shipping them far away from this hellish place?

Opening the door, you look at... Well, it wasn't an agent.

"Dottore, remember to put your mask on. People don't find your face charming." The man jokes.

"Shut up." You growl, not sure how much you can insult this man. Grabbing the mask on the table, you fasten it before walking out the office.

"...Wrong way." The man corrects you. Turning you around, he points down a hall. "That's where you said you be working. Something about checking your patients?"

Ah, perfect. You know where some test subjects may be now, and you can send them all to Mondstadt where you can call on the Knights of Favonius and, perhaps, Diluc to keep them safe.

"Thank you." You bow, the man in front of you hiding his surprise as you walk down the hall, every agent bowing to you as you walk.

"... Interesting..." The man chuckles.

The moment you slam the door open, the test subjects look at you in fear. They must have been terrified of your soulmates torture, perhaps your soulmate got someone else to do the stuff for him, but that didn't matter in this moment.

"Release them." You gruffly demand, the agent looking at you in confusion.

"But you said-"

"Are you defying orders?" You ask, the man shutting up. "Thought so. Untie the lot of them. I need some of the agents not assigned to the tests to send them away. Preferably to Mondstadt."

"But-"

You walk towards the agent, making his eye balloon in fear. He doesn't dare to open his mouth, knowing Dottore he would get subjected to being a test subject or killed.

"While you're at it, get as many of the subjects sent away as possible, not just these sorry bits of shit." You finish, hoping it buys into your character as Dottore.

You walk out, hearing the agent immediately get orders arranged. You walk past anyone who calls for you, and when you do so they just shrug before continuing with their day.

Your next step of action was to isolate Dottore as much as possible. You had to find somewhere dead and surrounding very little. You needed to sprint a good few kilometres before thinking of stopping, and you needed to figure out a place that had good ways of keeping Dottore in, or at least delay his rescue.

You eventually found a small cottage, and due to the fact you were sprinting towards it, the people accompanying the house immediately leg it in fear. Usually, raids would not be carried out by a single harbinger - let alone someone as high up as Dottore.

Entering, you can see a few appliances that could aid you. A basement, a few locks, one lock having a code on it in addition to being slightly finicky to operate, some rope and barbed wire.

Whoever this family were, they definitely had something suspicious about them. You didn't know when you would be put back to your body, so you grab all the things you can before locking yourself in the basement, where you find chains and a pair of handcuffs. So many questions, but limited time.

You get to beginning to lock your soulmate away for as long as physically possible.

You regain consciousness the next morning, in your own body and lying in an unfamiliar bed. From the bedding, it didn't feel like you were in Mondstadt, but you knew there was a group of Fatui agents that lived in Mondstadt. You get up in a panic, only to hear a familiar voice tut.

"The knights of Favonius, so incompetent.x Diluc huffs. "Did you lose your mind yesterday? You weren't even following basic procedures implemented by the Knights."

"...I need you to believe me when I say this." You hesitate, Diluc raising a brow.

"Yesterday, I found out my soulmate is a harbinger. I have released as many test subjects as I could, and have asked them to be sent to Mondstadt without informing my soulmate of the details." You begin, Diluc's eye twitching in disgust. "I have ensured Dottore hasn't-"

"Disgusting." Diluc grits his teeth.

"I also did everything I can to restrain him in a location to prevent him from being able to get out." You explain, Diluc massaging his temples in frustration.

"Why didn't I just let Kaeya take you back." Diluc shakes his head. "Nevermind, I'm assuming you'll need my help to find help for these people?"

"Yes. I'll do what I can to compensate you." You answer.

"I suppose if I leave it to the Knights, it won't be done right." He shrugs.

"Oh, and I've asked for Adelinde to cook you breakfast when you wake up."

Before you can thank him, he's already walked out the door.

Dottore, when he woke up, had a horrific realisation.

Complete darkness around him, his delusion laid across the other side of the basement and his hands tied behind his back. He can feel where his arms are especially sore and bleeding, the handcuffs not even put on correctly yet working thanks to the barbed wire and rope also surrounding him.

And thats before he's registered the fact his legs are restrained to chains, which are welded into the ground by the owners of the building. You've somehow made it so that he can't comfortably more his legs without feeling a bone brushing against the metal of the chain.

When he does eventually get out of the restraints, he will find another set of chains barricading the basement door as well as four locks, one having a pin only you knew, but that was something he was yet to have discovered.

"That fucking bitch!" Dottore screams out.

#gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #dottore x gender neutral reader #dottore x reader #dottore #soulmate au #body swap

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hellishgayliath · 1 year ago

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Clem’s Log

Hi big brother. Today’s March 10th I think? I’m not so great at remembering dates but Papa was dead set on it because that’s your birthday, it’s amazing how he’s able to remember stuff like that after all this time.

I know it’s been a while since we talked, ever since you left I had to take over bird scout duties and just never had the time to sit down and write. Everyone’s been on edge. Y’know I still hold onto that jar of cinnamon sticks you gave me. Started chewing on them out of habit whenever the anxiety and dread was getting to my head. They taste just like home..

…

Um..

Papa told me he saw you again.

When he and a couple of the others were out on patrol with Mr. Leo and big sis Luci I mean COUSIN SERGEANT Luci haha, I think she’d resent me calling her that but I know she secretly adores me.

…

They said.. they said when they saw you you were.. already turned.

You knucklehead I guess that’s why you left in the first place but to leave without saying anything to anybody?! You know Uncle Mikey would’ve helped you like he did with the others that were infected. Or did you already know that it would’ve been pointless? Don’t you at least owe your own little sister a goodbye?! Dummy dum dumdum..

…

Papa thought he could somehow magically get through to you, y’know make you remember who you were before life went crazy.

I heard from Mr. Leo that Luci tried to stop Papa from acting like a idiot and getting himself killed. But she ended up getting hurt instead.

Bad.

…

Next thing Papa knew, you and Luci were on the ground, with only one of you moving. Judging by Mr. Leo’s face when I saw him come in, he looked very torn and distraught about a very tough call he had to make. I can already guess what it was he had to do. Cousin Luci is in rough shape but insists on rejecting any medical help saying it’d just be a waste of time and resources. Doesn’t she know we’re just trying to help her? The dumdum… Don’t tell her I called her that. I just don’t want to lose her too.

…

Papa said he could’ve sworn he saw a little smile on your face when he cradled you. Maybe that’s you finally realizing you’re not being controlled by those monsters anymore and can now be at peace knowing you can’t hurt anybody else. At least that’s how I see it. It must have been terrifying to go through that alone.

…

It’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not FAIR IT’S NOT FAIR

They said they couldn’t even bring your body back because of safety reasons and that it would put the base at risk of being tracked so I couldn’t even get to see you one last time!

I miss my big brother, I miss your dumb goofy smile, I miss us having bug eating competitions and laughing at you nearly choking on a beetle, I miss falling asleep on each other while watching tv, I miss seeing you chase after the raccoons with a broomstick whenever they raided our trash cans, I miss the dogs, I miss the taste of fresh fruit, I miss our HOME! I just want this nightmare to be done with. I’m just so.. tired..

…

Papa told me they at least gave him the chance to make a grave for you and to say his goodbyes. I should’ve been there with him saying them together.

He just looks so defeated and sad. I insisted to him that we at least put together a funeral service for you so the rest of us can say our peace.

…

It was nice.

Uncle Mikey and Bao combined their powers to transform the room into a beautiful recreation of a lush meadow full of butterflies and yellow daffodils while Mr. Tello played some lovely music he still had saved recorded in his tech. It was so tranquil it almost makes you forget for a second you’re in an apocalyptic hell scape.

I think you would've loved it.

…

Talk to you again soon and happy birthday you numbskull. I love you.

I miss you..

youtube

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crushedsweets · 8 months ago

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can you tell us more about what Ben's life was like before his death?? (family, friends, and so on)(and what happened to them after his death bc oh sweet sweet angst)

ben was my gateway into creepypasta and i am living for your content of him (and your cp content in general) 😭🙏🏻

i havent thought TOO deeply about this actually!! so im gonna just spout what i HAVE thought about and see what i can build while im here!

as per usual, everything is in my AU; Creeped! info in my pinned if curious. CW in this post for murder, suicide, violence, the usual

ok. from the get-go i knew ben was gonna be an only child living in the suburbs. his parents would be pretty average folks, maybe his dad is a plumber and his mom is a secretary at a dentists office . . . he's a little spoiled, considering he's an only child. doesnt do chores, always getting electronics for holidays, most of his meals are made for him. i imagine his grandparents spoil him even more, as he's their only grandkid - something about him screams no cousins either... HES GOT NOBODYYY

i specifically imagine him living in a neighborhood like this. but with tons of toys hanging out on the lawn from when he was young and his parents are too lazy/busy to toss them. all rotting under the sun cuz hes stuck inside on his games

i imagine i has a small circle of friends at school... the type to go ride bikes after school to the corner store, buy hella soda and snacks, then ride home to go play video games.

he's def a bit dorky/geeky and doesnt have a lot of friends, just hangs around at school trading pokemon cards and failing his math tests and eating cheetos.

i think ben wouldve been 'just' missing for a while, but i think that his parents would have lost their minds. organized massive search parties, gone door to door with photos of ben pleading with everyone.

its fucked up but. im thinking. bens mom knocks on the door of the man who killed ben. the man is weird, a recluse, visibly uncomfortable the second he sees her face - she's been all over the news begging for ben to come home, after all. and theres a stench, and everything about this house is just Off and dirty and gross, and the entry way has a pile of boots and slippers and sandals just sitting around - all belonging to the man - but she notices a pair of awfully familiar sneakers.

i think it would be upsetting if she saw the shoes that she bought for ben, began to stammer, the man noticed, and he goes to attack her. she screams and freaks out and barely manages to get away, the man is freaking out and gets in his truck and goes to drive off, huge police-chase ensues, and the cops raid his house. i think the man would shoot himself before the cops could get him, something that would destroy bens family to no end.

while going through his house for evidence, theyd find ben's rotting corpse in the tub - dressed up in the link gear - alongside the majoras mask catridge. and theyd begin to find other remains around the house, all belonging to missing blonde teens around the county/state.

i think its obvious the sort of turmoil and strain this would have on his family(parents+grandparents), but it would be really tough on his friends too. theyre all freshmen in highschool and there would be a ton of rumors, distasteful jokes, etc at Ben's expense - partially from his own friends not knowing how to cope, partially from strangers.

and i dont think ben would be able to witness any of this grief as its happening. OBVIOUSLY he's dead, but his spirit is trapped in the same majoras mask cartridge that ends up getting stuck in evidence.

i think he'd eventually go back to watch all the interviews, news recordings, etc that he can find. and i think he'd try to pretend it doesnt bug him. he's so beyond shitty with his emotions, even as a human - super quick to make a joke out of everything, laugh it all off, in fear of being a 'pussy' or being vulnerable or getting made fun of. cuz he was the type to make fun of other boys for the same stuff. so yk. but the outlet he'd use for his emotions would be hurting people. tormenting, 'trolling', cyberbullying, haunting people all around the nation and driving them to murder, suicide, other things. generally being Evil and thinking its all just a joke. he cant take anything serious

i dont think he'd talk about his family to the creeps. and looking at him, nobody has a damn clue who he is or why he's like That. but he'd accidentally let his last name slip in a random convo, someone would be nosy enough to google it, and the news would quickly spread around the creeps and proxies who know him. not that theyd try and address it or something, but it would 100% leave everyone a little bit like. Oh. That's really sad. esp cuz they all thought he was just an annoying little asshole

#asks #creeped #ben drowned

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unsoundedcomic · 9 months ago

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Whumptober 2024 - 12 - "Starvation"

Your aunties and nannas, your sisters and grammas sent you to me, little eggs? Little eggs, to me? Well, I don't have time to draw in the dirt for you all the arteries of the underneath nor the roads of the world up above, but yes, I am Half Spear Flann, and I have walked both, and I have cut spiderpaws down by their shinbones and finished them at the throat.

Yes, that is the way to do it, little eggs. I'm here in your village to refill my flasks, to fatten my packs, and to lay close with your aunties and nannas, your sisters and grammas, to make more little eggs to kill more ugly spiderpaws, but yes, I am Half Spear Flann, and I will tell you the story of why that is my name.

Many years ago in the village of Small God Umyaralech, the salt dog that was the servant of the great salt lizard Shaensigin, I was only Flann, but there was not one better with the long spear than Flann. I could pin a beetle at a hundred paces, slay Redcaps by the dozen. The wanderers heard this and wanted me badly; wanted Flann to join their wandering along the shores of the Deep Hungry Sea.

I trained and packed, and waited for the wanderers to return to Umyaralech's village. I would leave with them and be a Man then. But long past the mating time, they still had not appeared. More time passed, and the Still Season was soon upon us. The wanderers had not brought meat, had not brought roots. The little eggs bawled and fussed, tired of only bug and saflesh on their plates. The Elders took up spears. They took up lanterns. They kissed the wet snouts of their little eggs and left, to travel themselves towards the hinters in search of the wanderers.

Then, one day, a strange light burned from the blackness outside the gates of Umyaralech. Little eggs thought it our elders and wanderers, and whooped and ran to greet them. But this light was not the blue of lymph nor the warm amber of fire. This light was the colour of sickness, and even the bagmoths would not circle it.

For this light was made by the evil spellery of Spiderpaws, and it poured into our village like plague.

Cutting shards flew as the enemy barked its spells. In pieces, the little eggs tumbled to the ground, heads cut from necks, arms cut from shoulders, tails cut from flanks. I took up my spear as our leaders let loose our traps. For we were not so far at the periphery, we of Umyaralech, that we had not heard tale of the ugly giants raiding inak lands in search of ogre bones and sparkling stones. So stones we gave them! Down carved chutes, boulders thundered from the dark, crushing the fragile bones that hold spiderpaws tall. They are very weak, the spiderpaws. Break the knees, shatter the legs. Their bared bellies are soft as pig wool, and their throats open at a touch.

Flann opened many throats that day, and the nannas were like beasts in defence of clutch and kin. Soon, only two spiderpaws remained there in our home. They looked around at the bloodied village that I think they had not expected to find so large, so angry, so hard. Upon the taller of them, three inak set, raking his back open so the white bones showed through the red and we all saw the thump! thump! thump! of his terrified heart! It thumps still! Don't pity the monster, but that long thought thumps still!

The last human was left to me. Towards my snout he flung his monstrous glowing paw but Flann was not afraid. I threw a body at him - small yellow Sarb, my dead friend, who could sing and braid so well - I threw her body, and the demon's spell bounced against it. I vaulted forward, to that soft and unguarded spot between the thighs, and plunged my spear high. Oh, his scream, little eggs. I was drunk on it, as with a cup of bitter aret juice I had enjoyed when the Fanare'she visited. I wanted more! Into his dancing body I twisted my spear head, again and again, until the shaft snapped, I could no longer feel my fingers, and there was no blue of me left beneath the coat of my enemy's red gore.

Yes, inak mine, yes. Always celebrate the death of evil! Draw it out and celebrate it! For it is rare, and it is precious, and you must not be ashamed to find it beautiful.

Weeks passed, and still no wanderers. Still no elders returned from the dark. We did not expect them to. Among the dead spiderpaws we'd found my Nanna's fine jewelled belt, and many of the wanderers ancient and holy blades. We knew they had died in glory and sacrifice. We knew they never again would return home to taste Shaensigin's salt nor embrace little eggs beneath the blue lymph of Tidalsong. Yet, we of Umyaralech would not starve, there, in the Still Season. We would live, and make new eggs, and one day kill more and more spiderpaws. Little eggs would become elders, and I, Half Spear Flann, would become a wanderer and gather more wanderers to me.

And so though there was no roasted fish on our plates then, nor crisp sea cotton nor pinchers nor salt dog, we ate well that Still Season. Spiderpaw flank is not so fine a meal, but it grows little eggs into inak men and inak elders, and if you have opportunity to taste it, my fierce ones, dig your fangs deep.

Now away from me! Go and make sport with the beetles and balls. But send your nannas hither! For the Dark is deep and cold, and Flann would take into it better memories than these red tales that make your young eyes glisten and gleam.

#whumptober #unsounded

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1794 · 2 months ago

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I remember so very little of the classes I took at reed except the poetry class w the little old jewish woman prof who was really extremely dismissive of "The Canon" (obviously) and talked specifically about poetry in advertising with the examples of this one, which was an advertisement for a record player:

and, more memorably, RAID KILLS BUGS DEAD

#txt

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onepiece-polls · 2 years ago

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One Piece Shipping War - Bonus Poll

Not a single Luffy ship got past the second round, so we still gotta decide which one was the most popular of the 2 that made it to round 2.

LuSan art by @supernaturallyginger. Check out the original post here!

CobyLu art by @aroacejay. Please check out the original post here!

Propaganda under the cut.

Propaganda for Sanji x Luffy:

I don't think anyone is gonna bother denying the fact that WCI is literally just the plot of an otome isekai shoujo manga/manhwa. MC (main character) is treated like trash by family except for the 1 dead mom and 1 nice sympathetic supporter that can't do much of anything to help. MC escapes only to find themselves in an even worse situation somewhat of their own making, only to be swept off their feet by the ML (male lead) and saved, full damsel in distress style. Dramatic love confessions, crying in the rain, betrayal from an arranged marriage, it has it all.

Dude Luffy loves Sanji so so much like WCI is the best example and like you don't even really need to see the love as romantic if that bugs you but dudes. The first words out of the Luffys Shadow Possessed Oars was yelling for Sanji. He just loves Sanji so much and Sanji loves him too

The WCI arc in itself is mega SanLu propaganda. Luffy invaded an emperor’s territory, completely crashed a wedding, went up against Sanji’s evil science family, and got nearly beat to death by Sanji himself all in order to get Sanji back. Sanji offered his life to Kuma at thriller bark so Kuma wouldn’t kill Luffy. He pushed himself for 2 years all in order to get stronger FOR Luffy. Sanji feels sorry when he isn’t useful, the whole reason why he used the raid suit those few times was because he was thinking about getting stronger for Luffy, but realized that he didn’t want to become an emotionless monster like his family. Sanji broke down in tears at WCI when he tried to get Luffy to go away by fighting him. And then broke down in tears again when he ran back to Luffy and told him he wanted to go back home to the Sunny. No matter what Sanji cooks, Luffy always likes it and is proud to have him in his crew. Sanji is also one of Luffy’s “wings”, as stated by Robin! They’re both just so sweet and clearly care very deeply about each other.

Luffy saving Sanji on whole cake island got to me

[Insert everything that happens between them during WCI] how could I see luffy yelling about how he won't eat anything and will starve- LUFFY OF ALL PEOPLE- unless Sanji comes back and not ship them at LEAST a little. "Without you I can't become the pirate king" absolutely devastating cinema. Then Sanji laying out everything, in tears, and Luffy accepting it all and just saying, "well that's who you are" poetic. Final wci thing: luffy hearing judges bs about sanji and going "whyd he start listing all your good point" true love. This seems one sided but Sanji is also just as bad. "Which version of me do you prefer" anyone? They care SO MUCH about each other. Also Luffy loves to eat, Sanji loves to feed people, they're meant to be.

*gestures at the entirety of WCI* I mean that’s Love, they are Ride or Die, Luffy cannot become the pirate king without Sanji, whether that means physically because he needs Sanji’s support or just because being the pirate king means Luffy has everything he wants and what he wants is Sanji or both. And Sanji loves him just as much back! He’s his sun he’s his world…Luffy jump and Sanji’s too busy skywalking to bother asking how high. I just love them sm

Oda himself wrote the propaganda for this, Whole Cake Island just cemented lusan as canon. "I can't become Pirate King without you!" <- that's love baby

Propaganda for Luffy x Coby:

The first characters in the series who ever met and the first characters we as an audience met. Luffy is the whole reason why Koby is the character he is now and was the first to experience the “Luffy Effect”. Luffy is happy whenever he hears about Koby’s accomplishments and fully believes in his dreams even when Koby is a marine. Koby holds a very obvious bias towards Luffy (even if he is a pirate) and is the reason he learned to keep an open mind about pirates and the navy and what the meaning of Justice is. Koby’s admiration and flustered nature towards Luffy can definitely be interpreted as a crush. Koby is very ride or die for Luffy even in the face of people drastically more powerful than him (Akainu).

Coby is beyond gay for Luffy and he was the first person Luffy traveled with.

they are cute

Coby literally gets heart eyes and can't stop himself from piping up every time Luffy comes up in conversation that boy is SMITTEN. I don't know if Luffy understands but he knows Koby is one of his and that's good enough for me.

#one piece #LuSan #CobyLu #KobyLu #SanLu #op shipping war #bonus polls

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dawnstruck · 5 months ago

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A small rant about Arcane and human rights

Something that has been bugging me for a while now: I have been seeing several posts and comments defending CaitVi’s gassing of the Undercity, so I want to talk about it a little bit.

This is not so much about their respective motivations and whether their actions can be justified under that lens. Yes, Vi has no support system, therefore clings on to Cait, and thinks it’s her responsibility to stop Jinx. Yes, Cait blames herself for her mother’s death and has just become head of her house and part of the council. Yes, they might both believe the measures they take are reasonable.

We could argue back and forth whether those decisions and developments make sense for their characters and whether the narrative overall does everything justice. Personally, I think it doesn’t but, again, this is not my main beef.

Instead, I have seen people claim that gassing the Undercity was okay because “they were only using it on gang members.” And omg, there is so much to unpack here.

First off: Were many of the Chem Barons probably ruthless, corrupted, dangerous individuals? Probably. However, I don’t really recall any details of what makes Margot and Chross (aka the only Chem Barons who are left over and accosted during the raid) particularly bad. Because they are less relevant to the story, the whole stint therefore feels more like a personal vendetta against Jinx (which is ultimately is).

Furthermore, what about their goonies who get hurt and endangered in the process? Are they bad people? How many of them were somehow forced into working for the Chem Barons, because the options in the Undercity are simply extremely limited? Sevika dedicated herself to Silco, apparently out of conviction to his vision of a free Zaun. Does she deserve to be gassed? Does some random lackey deserve it who is just trying to feed their family? Are people who commit crimes out of socioeconomic distress exempt from the protection of their human rights???

And my biggest complaint: You cannot specifically target anyone with gas. It’s either gas or no gas. Anyone who is in the vicinity and does not happen to have a gas mask just lying around will be affected. Even leaving the streets and going inside wouldn’t really protect you. After all, how do ventilation systems work in Undercity houses? And don’t we know that, canonically, Enforcers really like to smash windows? So congratulations, Caitlyn, you just gassed some old lady who couldn’t afford to get her window replaced after your colleagues busted it in a while ago. She’s dead now.

And you might say, oh, but we don’t really get to see any of that, so it's just speculation. But, technically, we do see it. Namely, in the scene where they are gassing the abandoned arcade where Jinx happens to be. And they are looking for Jinx, so that’s real convenient. And of course it makes sense, Vi and her siblings used to hang out there, so of course she would suggest that they check out their old haunt. But you know what that means? Vi suggested that, without any sort of announcement, they should gas an abandoned arcade where children have been known to hang out. And then, when Cait hears a sound, she immediately starts firing bullets into the smoke.

This is also, and I cannot stress this enough, the time when Isha was following Jinx around. Isha could very well have been inside that arcade as well or out on the street where the Grey also would have been. Just because we are not shown this, doesn’t mean that the implication isn’t there.

And that is the problem with war crimes: They are considered war crimes because you don’t just harm the ones who are trying to harm you. When you drop a bomb on a building where a dangerous person lives, and there are a hundred other people in that building, then congratulations, you have hurt and probably killed one hundred innocent bystanders.

But within the story, the whole ordeal feels like a copaganda where the Enforcers are presented as cool and capable (badass montages set to upbeat music) who we are meant to root for and feel empathy for. Apart from Cait and Vi, the rest of the team also gets somewhat significant scenes and storylines throughout the rest of the season. Compare that with the only lackey we who gets actual dialogue in the whole raid scene: Heenot is presented as pretty pathetic from the moment he is introduced. In fact, he needs to be saved and freed by the Enforcers, who then proceed to arrest him. I bet he is hella grateful for that.

And that’s why Vi’s stint as an Enforcer has left such a bitter aftertaste. It’s only made worse by how they make it out to be about her having to pick between Jinx and Cait, which culminates in her not giving Jinx the deathblow once Isha gets involved and then Cait abandoning her. Vi then has her emo phase and becomes an Underground fighter, but it seems there are no direct consequences of what she did to the Undercity. There are no people who recognize her, no one from the general populace who calls her out on what she did. There’s a monument to her father in the center of the city that she decided to gas with her girlfriend, and somehow it's no big deal.

It would have been so much more fulfilling for Vi to try and interfere with Cait’s leadership outside of their confrontation with Jinx. For Vi to see what they are doing to her hometown and its people and to wake the fuck up. To take an actual stance within the overall story apart from just personal entanglements and grudges, which would also then mirror Jinx’s development as the reluctant hero of the Undercity.

Instead, we get relationship drama and war crimes that are brushed under the rug, and neither Caitlyn nor Vi ever have to face real direct consequences for what they did to the people of the Undercity WHO DESERVE TO BREATHE.

Yes, Arcane is just a story. But it is a story that, in Season 1, was about class conflict and oppression. It is also a story that, in Season 2, unfortunately perpetuates the same narratives we see in real life every day. A narrative of ‘us’ versus ‘them’ in which it's all about our good soldiers and cops and citizens versus that other group that, for some arbitrary reason, deserves less sympathy and protection.

#arcane #rant #meta #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #enforcer vi

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