#she needs a bit of pain for her semblance and when she gets hurt FOR REAL it's because there's no other option

[duskdog]

This is probably the best-articulated description of one of the reasons why I hate Bruce Wayne. Words that I personally have never managed to explain properly.

If you don't treat a flaw as if it's a flaw, then it's not actually a flaw. This is why, if you've ever been in a situation where you're writing characters and having your work critiqued, you may be told that things like "working too hard" or "caring too much" aren't real flaws and should be avoided. They absolutely can be real flaws, but if you never actually show it impacting the character negatively, then you haven't given them a flaw -- you've either given them nothing at all, or worse, you've given them a stealth virtue in the guise of a flaw. When Batman is an asshole to everyone else, it's clear that he's being an asshole. When he's an asshole to people like Steph and Helena, he's not portrayed as an asshole, he's portrayed as being right.

People who dislike Stephanie Brown as a character are quick to point to her role in War Games as evidence of her weakness and unsuitability as a Robin and as a hero. But those same people either refuse to acknowledge Batman's role in causing it, or gloss over his role. And why wouldn't they, since the narrative itself paints Steph as fundamentally, fatally flawed and Batman as fundamentally, fatally correct? I would even argue that Batman himself created a self-fulfilling prophecy when it comes to Steph -- he disliked her from the outset, and from that point on treated her in such a way that it was inevitable that one day she would prove him "right". It wasn't even subtle. He very deliberately pulled her strings and brought her in and pushed her out over and over again as it suited him, breaking her down into a person who needed his approval so badly that she would do anything to get it. There is no excuse for this. There should be no defending it. And yet people do, constantly, because these comics were written to make us believe that a grown man jerking around a teenage girl is justified in doing so. Yet these same comics condemn Bruce for jerking around a teenage boy, and we're led to have sympathy for Dick and Tim (rightfully so). And Steph is the one who was emotionally tormented, tortured almost to death, and lost any semblance of her normal life for a long time. She came back, a shadow of her former self at first, to face backlash from Dick and Babs and Tim. She paid the price for any wrongdoing she may have done -- paid for it many times over -- and yet people refuse to give her credit for that. Meanwhile, where was Batman's backlash? Where was the price he paid? A little bit of superficial man-pain, at best? We're supposed to believe her death hurt him -- and, to be absolutely fair to him, I'm sure it did -- but any pathetic brooding on his part is undermined entirely by his refusal to accept any responsibility. He tells Tim straight-up that it was Steph's fault and she paid the price, get over it. When Tim had every right to still be grieving, by the way.

While the part of me that tries to be charitable to Bruce knows he probably was affected by her death -- or at least he felt sadness over it, because I do truly believe Bruce Wayne is a person who feels very deeply -- the narrative doesn't sell it to me enough for me to entirely believe it.

It feels like the literary version of "I'm sorry, but". You know how frustrating it is when you've been hurt by someone, and you really desperately need an apology, but what you get is "I'm sorry, but--" followed by a list of why it's actually your fault? That is exactly what Bruce Wayne makes me feel here. I simply cannot buy his feelings as genuine, when they're accompanied by a massive "but" that amounts to a refusal to accept responsibility for the role he played.

And why is that? Because that's the way the writers choose to portray it. That's the narrative: that Bruce wasn't wrong about Stephanie, and he wasn't wrong about Helena. His bad behavior is justified by the story being written in such a way that the women are the ones who are deeply flawed and deserve everything that's coming to them. And it's cheap and does a disservice to his character, too, because if his flaws aren't actually treated as flaws, they contribute no depth or interest. If you're going to write Batman as a misogynist, then you have to write it as the flaw that it is. It has to be acknowledged by the narrative by showing where he's wrong. His wrongness has to affect him in some way. Overcoming that would be a great development for any character!

But here we are.

Thinking about Bruce and his flaws again and the thing is while I can ignore most of the things he does in other comics because they're clearly using him to dramatically advance the stories of his kids (firing Dick in ntt, beating Jason in rhato, Tim's 16th birthday in Robin, his treatment of Cass during her Batgirl run etc.) it's his treatment of others in his own run especially women like Helena and Steph that kills me. Because several of the writers are clearly fully aware that they're writing him as a misogynist but instead of overcoming that character flaw the narrative ends up making the women atone and prove themselves to his unfair double standard (Helena in NML Steph in Robin) or suffer and die because the misogyny is as strong in the creative team as it was in Bruce (Steph during war games)

There's never any real reckoning with the flaws and attitudes they give him, likely because the writers see it as a character quirk instead of something that should negatively impact him and that he should overcome. Bruce Wayne murder fugitive has him hit Dick and later apologise. NML and War Games never have him take responsibility the same way. He's misogynistic, the women pay the price, he learns nothing because the message gets twisted to avoid the writer's own misogyny.

If you're a fan of Bruce you probably want to just pretend it never happened which is what a lot of writers choose to do. If you're a fan of the female characters affected you have to acknowledge it because it was a major story point for their character. And it wasn't even for them. They were were used and spat out to try and fail to make Bruce seem more complex.

And I say fail because it doesn't make Bruce more complex. The writers make him a bad person and then call it a day. No one around him actually holds him accountable. Everything goes back to the status quo. A new writer comes along and Batman is a straightforward hero again.

The only lasting impact is on the characters torn down to give him poorly written drama. All this to say if Babs Helena and Steph teamed up to murder Batman completely unprompted I would be their number one defender.

[paponela]

I *deeply* appreciate your tag commentary about Yang's bullet-taking record on that one post. I mean, it's a behavioral pattern between that flashback Ursa charge (where Ruby was clearly frozen), Beacon & the voidspace platform, but I honestly wonder if that situation gave her any more room/time for other options than it did for Blake to catch her a split second later. I mean, (a) fleeing civilians to backstop any gunfire and (b) it sure didn't look like *Ruby* would've reacted to Neo in time.

The only thing I think she could maybe have done differently was try to hit Neo instead of pushing Ruby away. But I understand that like. Maybe she though pushing Ruby away was 100% effective whereas trying to stop Neo had a margin of error that she was not willing to bet on. Or maybe she didn't even consider hitting Neo in the first place, she just thought the hit was inevitable and defaulted to take it herself bc she can handle it better. Cause you know.

I mean you know when you were a kid and played online rpgs with your friends and there was always that guy that put A LOT of their points in their hp so when there was a fight they got hit more than everyone else but that's fine because they could take it, and also they were keeping everyone else that couldn't afford that much damage safe??

Personally I think Yang's character asks a very important question that is: what if the tank of your party was the person you loved the most in your life???

Am I mean hdhshsgsjdhjd

No coherent thoughts besides that at the moment I just think about it sometimes and go insane

[defectivevillain]

until it doesn't hurt

pairing: Bruce Banner/Reader

reader’s pronouns: they/them

the reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no physical descriptors are used.

summary: “I could’ve caused you irreversible harm,” Bruce says. It’s almost a practiced recitation at this point, and you have to wonder if he truly believes that—or if he’s just been conditioned by everyone around him to believe he is only capable of inflicting pain. “You didn’t,” you maintain, for what feels like the thousandth time. Bruce is so caught up in the hypotheticals that he refuses to see the success right in front of him: the fact that he didn’t so much as lay a finger on you.

word count: 2.9k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical violence

Being an Avenger means you have to be ready for anything at all times. That spontaneity is difficult to adjust to at first, but as time passes, you grow used to it. You grow used to sleeping lightly; to stashing weapons just about anywhere you can keep them; to having few restful days and many restless ones. The moment your powers manifested, you knew you would be a hero: not because you wanted to be one, but because it would be your responsibility to protect those who needed protecting. 

You weren’t always an Avenger. At first, you were just a rogue—kind of a vigilante. But then the attack on New York happened—Loki happened—and everything flew out the window. Suddenly, you were out on the street in broad daylight, trying your best to keep the civilians safe. That was how you crashed into Iron Man of all people. You exchanged banter and insults, but when it came down to it, you protected him, and he protected you. And Tony is extremely persistent—it didn’t take long for him to sink his claws into you and drag you back to the Avengers Tower. 

From there, you gradually get to know the other Avengers. Steve and Clint are relatively friendly right off the bat. Natasha is a bit more difficult—you have to earn her trust before she starts to open up to you. But eventually, somehow, you manage to bond with all of the other occupants of the Tower. At least, all of them except Bruce Banner. 

Bruce is an interesting case. He almost immediately dismissed you when Tony first introduced you, instead deigning to focus on his experiments. You hadn’t taken offense to Bruce’s reclusive behavior, nor had you taken the hint that he didn’t want to get to know you. Instead, you had all but forced him to acknowledge you. This manifested in a multitude of ways: from going out of your way to talk to him to offering to help with his research. Bruce is extremely protective of his laboratory, but somehow he deemed you capable enough to serve as his laboratory assistant. You were more than content to hand him capsules and adjust minor things, while he did the brunt of the work. You took the gifted opportunities to attempt to get to know him better. At first, it was like speaking to a brick wall. But somewhere along the way, his cold and uncaring façade began to crack. You slowly worked your way up to meaningless small talk—and, later, casual conversation.

Truthfully, you really enjoy spending time with Bruce. But he’s rather unpredictable—sometimes he’ll push you away, and other times he’ll play along. You know that he has a lot of baggage—what with his childhood and his alter-ego. You’ve been trying to convince him that you care about him—that you’re not going to abandon him or villainize him—but he doesn’t ever seem to believe you. He always conducts himself with some semblance of suspicion and doubt; it almost seems like he’s waiting for you to wake up to reality and run away screaming.

Still, progress is progress—no matter how slow. You’re happy with how you’ve slowly bonded with him, and you can only hope that there’s more on the horizon for the both of you. 

…You never consider the possibility that something could happen to make things worse—to destroy your progress and send you right back to the start. 

“We need you for something.”

You’re brutally torn from your reverie, forced to slowly come back to yourself. You’re sitting in the living room, staring ahead at the blank wall. How long have you been sitting here? All you know is that it’s no longer light outside, and that Natasha is standing in front of you with a firm expression. 

“I- what?” You stammer, still processing what’s happening. “Nat-”

“It’s important,” she says. You get to your feet before she can continue speaking. “Trust me.” You do trust her. Natasha isn’t one for over-exaggeration or dramatics; when she says something is important, she means it. And the grave expression on her face is only worrying you more. You follow after her as she walks down the hall and towards the elevators. The two of you step into the space and she presses a button, before the elevator slowly rises. 

In hindsight, perhaps you should’ve been a bit more suspicious. Why would she be taking you to another floor in the Tower? Typically, when there’s a new development or an imminent threat, you’ll be directed to another location—either to combat the threat or to strategize. Furthermore, there’s a strained silence in the air between Natasha and you. Nat’s shoulders are drawn tight and she’s staring ahead pointedly, as if avoiding your eyes. 

The elevator dings and you breathe an internal sigh of relief, hoping to get rid of this needless tension. But before you can begin to take a step, you’re being roughly shoved out of the elevator and into the hallway. It takes you several moments to get your bearings—at which point you recognize the telltale sounds of the doors behind you closing, and the elevator dropping back down to where you came. You stare at the closed doors in disbelief, before turning to look back down the hall. One of the recreational rooms is straight ahead, and you hear yelling. 

Once you’re standing in the doorway, you’re able to place the inexplicable noises you were hearing. Bruce is in his Hulk form, green and raging as he throws anything within his grasp at the walls around him. You’re willing to bet Natasha brought you here to do something about this. Why she thinks you’re the best person to calm Bruce down, you’re not sure. 

“Bruce,” you say slowly. Bruce promptly freezes, an exercise machine lifted over his head. He stares down at you; you stare up at him. He’s momentarily distracted by you. “It’s okay.” He’s silent. You hold your hands out at your sides in mock surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you,” you continue. “You’re safe.”

Silence. You take a slow breath. The machine he’s holding over his head drops a fraction of an inch. 

“It’s okay, Bruce.” You repeat, pushing as much conviction into your voice as you can. Your effort seems to work, as his eyebrows furrow. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence as the two of you stare at each other. Then, his visage shifts and you’re suddenly looking at Bruce Banner—disheveled and exhausted.

“Are you alright-?” You’re compelled to ask. The scientist is back in human form, wearing nothing but a tattered pair of pants; bruises and scratches litter his skin; and there’s a distant expression on his face. He seems to snap out of his trance when he hears your voice.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bruce then spits. You immediately flinch at the unexpected anger. “Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here?” His gaze is flitting about the room quickly, before settling on you with fevered intensity. You’ve never seen Bruce look so irate before. He’s a remarkably composed man (although you suspect he bottles up anger and rage and lets it out in bursts as the Hulk). Indeed, this kind of fury is typical for the Hulk, but exceedingly rare for Bruce. 

“I didn’t-” You choke out helplessly, glancing back at the hall and, by extension, the elevator. “They-” It’s inexplicably difficult for you to get the words out. 

“That was our doing.” A voice confesses from behind you. You turn around to find Nat and Tony standing behind you. The two of them approach and come to a stop at your side. 

Bruce’s gaze locks on them with fiery focus. He brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. His glasses are nowhere to be seen—he must’ve dropped them somewhere as he transformed. “I expected better from both of you.”

“Bruce-” Tony tries to say, an apologetic expression on his face. 

“What on earth made you think that throwing them out as bait was a good idea?” Bruce interjects furiously, motioning towards you. “You could’ve gotten them seriously injured!” He exclaims. Tony has the good grace to look embarrassed; Nat is staring ahead with a flat expression and her arms crossed over her chest.

“Bruce, I’m fine-” You try to say, quickly growing uncomfortable with the tension settling in the air. 

“I could’ve harmed you,” Bruce is quick to assert. “Easily.” His voice is cold. 

“But you didn’t,” you maintain. He’s not giving himself enough credit. More troubling is the idea that he has faith in his own cruelty—that he only sees himself as capable of harming someone. You don’t know what else to say, don’t know what could possibly be said to repair the evident years of damage done to this man’s psyche. The entire world has treated him as a weapon at best and an uncontrollable, irredeemable monster at worst.

“That doesn’t matter,” Bruce says with unshakeable certainty. He retreats from the room, leaving you to stare after him in confusion and shock. You turn to face Natasha and Tony, who are both staring at the doorway with complex looks. 

You want to tell them off, but the words that leave your lips are far different than you intend them to be. “Should I go after him?” You ask instead. Bruce is the primary concern right now—you can chew Tony and Nat out later. You’ve known him for a bit now, and have grown to interpret his expressions fairly easily. You’ve seen Bruce express a lot of emotions… but the look on his face just now is completely foreign to you. 

“Probably,” Tony admits. 

“I don’t think we should,” Natasha says, motioning towards Tony and herself. “He’s mad at us. And… rightfully so.” She exchanges a glance with Tony, whose lips are pressed in a thin line. It’s clear they didn’t give enough thought to their whole plan. 

“You’ll be fine, though,” Tony says with unfounded conviction. Nat places a hand on your shoulder and grips it reassuringly. You take a deep breath and come to a decision, walking down the hall and towards the elevator doors. 

Moments later, you’re walking out of the lift and down the dim hallway leading to Bruce’s bedroom. He’s entirely alone on this floor of the tower. You pause in front of his door for a few seconds, wondering if you should walk away. But you can’t. Instead, you knock on the door four times. “Bruce?” You ask. Despite the clear sturdiness of the door, he’s able to hear you. 

“Go away.” Bruce responds. His voice is a little muffled, and you have to strain to hear him. 

You’re hurt for the briefest of moments. Then you shelve the feeling and resolve yourself to tackling it later. “I’m coming in,” you announce, placing your hand against the scanner at the edge of the doorway. The scanner flashes green and the door slides open, revealing Bruce’s bedroom. You’ve never been here before. It’s modestly decorated, with mostly monotone shades. Nothing particularly strikes you, save for the giant desk in the corner of the room. Papers litter the entire surface of the desk, and a few are covered by Bruce’s arms. 

The man doesn’t look up as you approach. “I don’t want to see you,” Bruce says. His back is turned and you’re unable to see his expression. 

“I don’t care,” you respond, taking a few steps into the space until you’re a short (yet seemingly insurmountable) distance from Bruce. He’s sitting at his desk, rubbing his hands over his eyes roughly. It doesn’t take long for you to remember your guilt. “Bruce, I don’t want you to torture yourself over this.” Maybe you shouldn’t have interfered in the first place. 

“I could’ve caused you irreversible harm,” Bruce says. It’s almost a practiced recitation at this point, and you have to wonder if he truly believes that—or if he’s just been conditioned by everyone around him to believe he is only capable of inflicting pain. 

“You didn’t,” you maintain, for what feels like the thousandth time. Bruce is so caught up in the hypotheticals that he refuses to see the success right in front of him: the fact that he didn’t so much as lay a finger on you. 

“No, I don’t think you understand,” Bruce says with a shake of his head. He pushes himself out of his chair and gets to his feet, turning around to face you. Your eyes widen as you notice the torn expression on his face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the determination written in every line of his form. “My eyes locked onto you and, for a split second, I envisioned harming you. Deliberately.” The confession clings to the air like a vice. 

“But you didn’t act on that impulse,” you assert. “You suppressed it.” 

“So?” Bruce argues. “I still had the urge. You should be disgusted, afraid-” 

“I’m not afraid of you, Bruce,” you interrupt. The statement lingers heavily in the air between the two of you. For a long moment, there’s nothing but the faint hum you’ve grown to associate with the Tower itself.  

“You should be,” Bruce then mutters. And suddenly he’s standing in front of you, staring at you with a dark gaze. His fists are clenched at his sides and you see his skin flicker with shades of green, before it returns to normal. The man maneuvers you to the side and shoves you, until you’re hitting the wall behind you. Bruce’s hands move up to your shirt collar and he clenches at it, his fingers almost spasming as he tightens his grip. You just stare at him. “I could ruin you.” He murmurs, so quietly that you have to strain to hear it. 

You want to argue with him so badly, but that strategy hasn’t been working so far. For some reason, Bruce has convinced himself that he not only has the capacity to hurt you, but that he wants to. You know that can’t be true, but how can you convince him? If he thinks he can ruin you… “Then do it,” you challenge him. He meets your eyes once more and you stare back unflinchingly, trying to convey how much you trust him. 

If you thought the tension was suffocating before, it’s practically ripping the breath from your lungs now. Everything around you seems to fade into obscurity. All you can see is Bruce; all you can feel is Bruce. His fingers twitch and his grip falls from your collar. For an awful moment, you think he’s going to walk away—turn his back on you as he has done so many times before. But he doesn’t. Instead, he leans closer. If he’s trying to get you to back down, then it isn’t working. 

At first, you want to think that Bruce is testing you. But the way he’s regarding you right now—with glittering desire in his eyes—makes you think otherwise. His hands move from the wall to your shoulders, back to the nape of your neck, until he gently tugs you forward. It’s hardly a strong pull, and you understand the choice he’s giving you. 

But, you think fondly, there was never much of a choice. From the moment you locked eyes with him, you knew he would dominate your thoughts. And indeed, he has. You think about the hard-won look of approval in his eyes when you make an astute observation; the way he almost frantically looks across the battlefield, his posture instantly relaxing once he sees you; the contradictions written all over his skin; the rare smiles you feel privileged to see. 

You lean forward and press your lips to his. Bruce is quick to reciprocate, his hands lingering at the nape of your neck before slipping down to your waist. You lock your arms around his shoulders, practically trapping him in your embrace. But from the strength of his grip, you can ascertain that the gesture is more than welcome. 

Later, when you break apart, Bruce has a disbelieving expression on his face. He looks slightly dazed, as if suspicious of the reality he now finds himself in. You grasp his wrist gently. 

“You can’t get rid of me, Bruce,” You murmur insistently, “...no matter how hard you try.”

He stares at you for another long moment. “And I have tried,” Bruce admits through a dry huff. You want to be offended by the comment, but you know it’s true. Bruce is stupidly self-sacrificing—he purposefully keeps his distance from people to protect them. But the reality of the situation is that people will come to harm regardless of his presence. “But you’re too stubborn.” That statement is spoken with a significant amount of fondness, and his hand comes up to cradle your cheek. You bring your hand up to rest on top of his. 

“I’ll always be here, even when you don’t want me to be.” You promise. And maybe that promise isn’t yours to make, because one can never truly predict what will come next. But somehow, deep down, you know it to be true. 

Bruce brings you close once more, an uncharacteristic note of boldness in the fluid movement. When you step back moments later, you find that he has a hint of a smile on his face. “I know,” Bruce says, the traces of apprehension on his face breaking and cracking to reveal a rare sight: unrestrained affection.

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[crguang]

have you ever wondered what would happen if jingliu had a panic attack (mara is kinda like ptsd :() and what would reader do? (Can be comfort or angst)

my liu… :(

i think the saddest part about being mara struck is that it’s inevitable, so jingliu would have “attacks” often, especially in crowded areas. it’s paralyzing too, she freezes in place and clenches her head with a hand, eyes squeezed shut. the noise amplifies the chaos in her head and it takes all of her willpower to even just move someplace quieter.

she slides against the wall of a nearby alley, nails digging into her hair and attempts to win a war against her own mind, to find herself within the anguish and despair assaulting her in the form of her worst memories. if you’re with her the most important thing is to not touch her, i think, not when she’s so lost in the curse because she will lash out at you and the guilt of finding out what she’s done later on will crumble her defenses and tighten the mara’s grip on her mind.

the first thing you do is make your voice louder than the ones in her head. repetition is key and it takes some patience; you crouch in front of her and call her name multiple times, assure her that you’re here, that she is here and alive, and that she needs to focus on your voice only, not whatever her fractured mind is conjuring up. it may take some time depending on the trigger and jingliu’s own strength, if she’s having a panic attack because something reminded her of her past deeds, it’ll take a minute to bring her back. but it’s okay, just keep countering the negative thoughts in her head with sweet words and she’ll eventually find the strength to come back to you.

jingliu has her own ways of dealing with the mara, total darkness and meditation help tremendously but it’s a little tricky when you can’t touch her. you can keep people away from her though so she can have some semblance of peace while she comes back to herself. when the brunt of it has passed, she just stays where she is and steadies her heavy breathing. sit or stand next to her and take deep breaths with her, a silent reassurance that you’ll never leave her side.

she always feels a little ashamed afterwards, even if she morphs that shame into anger to fuel her need for revenge. she despises feeling weak above everything else, and to not be in control of your own mind is humiliating, curse or not. she doesn’t say anything when you remind her that the only reason she hasn’t succumbed to the mara is her own freakish strength, but your words are a small comfort regardless, you can see it in the way her shoulders relax a bit more.

i think jingliu definitely has tried to push you away before, likely more than once. she’s on a path to destruction and she intends to die this way. more than that, she’s a danger to the people around her whenever the mara grips her and she wouldn’t be able to handle hurting you. whether it’s when she’s somewhat sound of mind or in the middle of a panic attack, she’s commanded you to leave her alone multiple times. it’s important to remain steadfast, but it does hurt to hear her tell you to fuck off in such a cold tone. she says you have no place in what she’s meant to achieve, and that nothing will stand in her way. you reply that you’ll be with her until the end. it’s bittersweet; it causes her pain to be cared for by you knowing she’ll never have the ability to fully commit to you again, but it’s also the only other comfort she has.

would she hurt you?… probably. :/ the mara is mostly paralyzing, at least at first, so she would only act on it when it gets too much. it’s not her fault and i don’t think she’d cause you irreversible harm or anything like that but she is stronger than average so i can see her physically pushing you away and causing you to crash into something because she’s not controlling her strength, or something similar. maybe her nails dig into your wrist a little too hard. maybe her fingers curl around your throat a little too tightly. guilt and anger follow shortly afterwards and she needs to be alone for a while or she’ll go mad.

she’s very grateful for you despite this. her words can bite but if that means sharing her burden then you’ll endure it. i think touch is a particular thing when she’s not having an attack, whether it’s afterwards or just in general; i don’t think she’d hate it? it’s a tangible reassurance that you’re both alive. her skin is freezing cold, but it works the same way a cold compress would to a sore muscle. run a hand through her hair, brushing away the silky strands from her cheeks, and the contact calms her further. in the darkness where she spends most of her hours, she traces the shape of your nose and the curve of your lips with a finger. she can’t see your face, and yet you’re here. the picture she has of you in her mind is uncanny.

overall, dealing with jingliu is hard like i’m not gonna lie to you. even when she’s composed and has regained control of her whatever’s left of herself, she keeps a certain distance. either the mara will kill her or she’ll die killing the abundance, in either case she’s losing and she doesn’t want to drag you down with her. she’s lived way past her expiration date and she’s deteriorating a little more each day. her illness is debilitating, it’s devastating to think about but she’s not herself anymore. the abundance shaped her and scrapped away pieces of herself at the same time. sometimes you see the person she was in the way she touches you. sometimes you forget about the curse that befalls you both when she utters your name in that familiar, raspy voice. sometimes, she clings to you and you cling to her, and with only a crescent moon watching over you, she’s just your jingliu.

[jaune-submissive-and-breedable]

A part 2 to that Glynda pegging class: Glynda lets some students take a 'practical' test with Jaune in class.

Glynda chuckled as she watched her students scramble out of their seats, eager to have a chance at pegging their blonde classmate. She knelt on one knee in front of Jaune, lifting his chin and smiling.

"I hope you're ready, Mr. Arc. Your classmates are quite eager to have a taste of you." She cooed, gently pecking his lips and stepping away as her first student approached.

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Ruby's face was as red as her cloak while she thrusted into Jaune's tight anal canal. Her movements slow and steady with some passion behind them. Her hands using Jaune chest from support as she stared at his blinded face. The toy she used was a simple seven inches, but it was still enough to make him moan and get rock hurt once more.

"I'm gonna start moving faster now. Let me know if it hurts, ok?" she told him. Leaning over to plant a small kiss on his cheek.

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Jaune screamed loudly through his gagged as Weiss began her turn. Unlike her leader, she didn't care about his comfort. Using an 13 inch avian shaped dildo, she hammered and destroyed his asshole with acute precision. Her thrusts were frequent with enough power behind them to garner a response from the boy.

"Consider this pay back for bothering so much Arc" she hissed, giving his cock a slap causing it was fling pre-cum around the desk and their body. "But I think someone needs a little more discipline~"

After saying that, she places a black glyph around his tip base of his cock, blocking his cum from escaping their fleshy confines.

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When it was Blake's turn she freed Jaune from his restrains, threw him on to the floor, placed herself onto his back, and plunged her cock deep inside his ass. Purring with delight as she heard him cried out from both pleasure and pain from her chosen toy. She began moving her hips slowly before gradually increasing in speed and force. In doing so, she inadvertently, or purposefully, caused her ass cheeks to clap together, giving all present a good view of her bellabooty twerk.

"S...Stop...please!" Jaune cried out.

Blake's chosen toy was a feline shaped dildo, 13in long, 3in in girth, and equipped with barbs that scrapped against his anal canal, causing him to cried out. Hearing his plea, she leaned into his ear and told him.

"Be a good boy and I'll let you fuck my ass later~" She purred, gently kissing his cheek and continued her thrusting

_____________________________________________________________

"MeRcY PlEaSe!!!" Jaune cried out once it was Yang's turn.

The blonde in question had him bent over Glynda's desk and shoved her massive 20in long horse cock in and out of his ass with reckless abandon. Her d cup breast bouncing wildly as she thrusted in and out of the arc boy, her grunts harsh and animalistic. Her cock created a grotesque bulge in his stomach, making some of her classmates cringe while others bit their lips.

"Fuck! How is he still so tight?!" she growled.

Yang turned him on his back roughly, never taking her cock out of him. Grabbing his face, she smashed her lips against his in a sloppy and heated kiss. Pulling away, she lick her lips as she stared him down. Promising to herself she'll definitely do this again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Much like yang, Nora opted for pure power in thrusts over any semblance of technique. Holding Jaune in a mating press, she hammered her cock in his ass rapidly, their hips colliding with meaty slaps. Her ursine cock forgoing length in favor of girth making his ass stretch to impossible lengths. Her breathing rapid and harsh. She looked down at her still blind leader panting beneath her. His face red and mouth open releasing pained pants. She lowered herself so her face was an inch away from his, her breast squished against his chest as she did. Rather than say anything she slammed her lips into his, capturing him in a deep and sloppy make out secession. Ignoring the wet and sticky sensation on her chest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For many, it was not surprising to see Pyrrha pegging Jaune. What was surprising was the girthy and lengthy lupine cock she chose to peg him with. Taking him in missionary, she gently, but forcefully, thrusted inside his anus. Using one hand, she played with her tit and moaned with pleasure, while the other stroked his cock to full mast once more, earning more groans from the boy.

"It's alright Jaune" she cooed. Leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. "You've been such a good boy, you deserve a reward."

Moving hand away from her tit, she removed his blind fold exposing his eyes to his onlookers. They squinted at first, but quickly adjusted allowing for Pyrrha to see how red and watery they were from the ongoing lesson. Smiling softly, she kissed his cheek and pushed her toy deeper into him, cooing and complimenting him as she pushed her toy's knot into his ass.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Very Impressive Ms. Fall" Glynda complimented from the sideline.

The false maiden smirked and leaned back on the desk, using her arms prop herself up. Unlike her fellow classmates, she instead made Jaune ride her cock himself, with the boy in question panting heavily as he bounced up and down. Sweat layered his entire body, his cock bobbed up and down weakly, his tongue hung from his mouth and eyes rolled back in his head. His hands gripped her thighs tightly as the used them for support. All the while a simple black dildo was repeated swallowed up by his asshole, which clung to its length greedily.

"Just like Nikos said~" she replied "He's just a good boy~"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------After what seemed to be hours, Jaune was finally able to rest. His body was sore and broken from the various treatments he received from his classmates. His cock was completely softened with a thin line of cum leaking from the tip and his balls sagged as they milked of their contents. His body was motionless save for a small twitch every so often. Finally, his face contorted into a look of permanent pleasure. His eyes were rolled back in his head while his tongue hung from his mouth.

Glynda knelt beside the boy, wrapping a blanket over his nude form, and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"I believe you've earned your extra credit points, Mr. Arc" She stated calmly.

She stood up with a heavy sigh. Surveying her classroom, she saw various cum stain littering the desks and floor. It would be a hard clean up job, but she'll manage. Sitt back at her desk she began reviewing each of her student's performance today.

"I Ms. Xai long and Valkryie for sure requires a bit more practice...." she said as she began her reviews.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Ruby: I feel like I need a can opener with you. It's like - ugh - aren't you frustrated?

Jaune: No I am.

Ruby: Well why aren't you showing it? And your semblance. You never get excited when it activates while we're training.

Jaune: It doesn't do anything. Doesn't last long. And only makes me glow.

Jaune: *internally* Fitting. If I would have had this power at Beacon I would have been just as useless for Pyrrha.

Ruby: *jabs him in the ribs past a gap in his armor she casually exploited*

Jaune: *hisses in pain*

Ruby: I heard that. You were thinking you were useless again. Weren't you Jaune.

Jaune: Fuck.

Ruby: I'm sure it does more than make you look good.

Jaune: *experiencing emotional whiplash*

Ruby: Well?

Jaune: Well to what in all of that?

Ruby: All of it!

Jaune: I'm just trying to stay on track and get you to Haven.

Ruby: Ugh.

Jaune: Huh. Is it something I said.

Ruby: *distinctly doesn't look impressed by that* Then what's it like? I forced you out here. To come with me to Haven and trek all the way across the world with me. Even though I had no idea how far that was.

Jaune: Ruby I did know how far it was. And I know if you hadn't...

If she hadn't what, exactly? He was trying to fight but it was hard. It was a little like Weiss had rubbed off on Ruby, in some of her best ways. He'd found that confidence and authority attractive before but when it was directed at me it was hard to fight.

What could he possibly tell her? That he needed her to tell him what to do and give his life direction?

She just told him how stressed she was. He couldn't add to that. He clicked my jaw in thought.

His teeth clacked together audibly.

Ruby: *looked from my eyes to his jaw. Like he just bit her hard* You shouldn't do that to yourself.

Jaune: That's what I mean. What would I do if I didn't have you right now? If you hadn't taken me in, I don't know where I would have gone.

Ruby: You would have found something.

No. His family. He stole this from them. He couldn't go back. And Nora and Ren they got in with like a scholarship for orphan hunters-to-be or something. They were homeless again. He thought they thought he'd abandon them.

Jaune: No. So, when you asked me to come it was just-it was a no-brainer. What would I have done? What alternatives would I have had? And if I hadn't gone with you, would I have found Pyrrha’s armor, even? Would I know for sure what happened? It was like destiny. And this is too.

Ruby: You really think so? *her hands fidget through her hair, somehow plucking at the red tips even out of the corner of her eye*

Jaune: Well no, it’s more like I need to make this the timeline where I succeed, but we can. You know?

Ruby: You think if we're smart and hardworking enough, it'll be enough? That's not like you.

Jaune: Ruby, this is just a setback. Even if it takes months. We have no timetable for getting to Haven. No tournament. No obvious target beyond the school and city which should be in a state of high alert.

Ruby: But what about your semblance? You and me. Are we making progress there?”

Jaune: We’ll have time to figure out how to use it.

Jaune: *internally* If it had a use.

Jaune: Tss. *He clutched a rib. She jabbed him again.*

Ruby: You and me. You butt.

Jaune: Us?

Ruby: What are we, Jaune? What am I to you?

Good question.

He thought about it. It wasn't like he could just say she was his partner because that had connotations to huntsmen. If he just blurted out, she was his new partner it would hurt everyone.

Besides, she had made it clear that Weiss was her best friend. Whatever that meant to her.

Jaune: You're my oldest friend for sure. Things are rough for me right now but it wasn't like I didn't think about you before, too.

Ruby: That's not fair. Pyrrha was…She made it clear she liked you a lot.

Ouch. But…

Jaune: You were so nice and sweet to me when I didn't deserve it. I could always count on you for advice and it was always good.

Ruby: I don't know…

Jaune: Even if it wasn't what I wanted to hear. So, it sounds dumb to say something like boyfriend, but you can if you want.

Ruby: We're a couple. You make things so complicated.

Jaune: The thing about that is-

Ruby: Do you love me?

Jaune: Uh, yeah.

She smiled, flushing, but she managed to roll her eyes and look right at him. For a moment he could hear nothing but the rain against the tent.

Ruby: Jaune I need you to better than 'uh yeah.' *she smiled adorably. It took him a second to realize she was teasing him. By the time he did so, his eyes flicked down to her lips and back up to her eyes. It was too late. Her smile roared across her face*

Ruby: You really want to kiss me, don't you? You can. You know. Maybe not all the time but you can kiss me.

Does so. He pushed her back against her thin mattress. He could feel her hip bone against my abdomen and the smooth curve of her sides. He put his hands around her back and pulled her in close to me and she let out a tiny sigh.

[space-girlllll]

OK!!!!! SO!!!! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ROUND!!!

A LOT HAPPENED SO IMMA DO A SMALL ANALYSIS AND JUST POINT THINGS OUT BCS I NEED TO TALK ABT THIS!!!

First of all, Hyuna is still bleeding from the gunshot wound of last round, and idk how long it takes for an abdominal gunshot wound to stop bleeding, but it can't have been more than a few hours, so this couldn't have happened too long after the last round. and since thats true, is it usually this short of time in between, and when did this short time in between rounds begin?

also, i'm so mad at luka but like. pop off???? he plays the fuckin violin???? hes a talented guy ig???

Hyuna stopping mizi from going after till and luka??? she looks absolutely terrified, bcs who know what could happen to her if she goes up on that stage with luka. She's worried that luka will hurt mizi and that just. :(

This scene breaks my heart tbh :( mizi running off with hyuna left watching after her terrified, bcs she feels powerless.

also!!!! in this scene??????? where you can see the blood CLEARLY still on tills pants??? did they not have him change his pants after the previous round??? he's still covered in ivan's blood thats just so- AAAAAAAAAAA

The disco ball beign earth?? that's absolutely crazy to me. like damn.

When Luka reaches out and touches till??? First of all, the lyrics specifically being 'the dark crimson air' during this part just made me think of ivan, who had red in his eyes, like, huh. and also that red behind till's ear? is that a part of his ear piece? and also speaking of the ear piece why does it glow red this whole round, when it didn't glow like that before (i think i might be wrong ;-;)

and this!! him putting his hands exactly where Ivan put his when he choked till, and especially because this is when he sings 'embraces us'? that is just. uggghhhhhhh. and also the rings on his hands are placed so specifically on each finger. huh.

And the fact that his face gets all dead, void of expression once he hides his face behind till is just scary, the way he can wipe off all semblance of emotion. also, back to till's ear piece, i can't help but be fixated on it, with how it glows red so BRIGHTLY in some scenes, and with how out of place it looks with everything else around it, idk.

Till, here, looks absolutely terrified, and so tired, he's so scared he doesn't sing the next few lines for a bit, i feel horrible for him ;-;

And again with the ear piece! he even looks in pain as pulls his hand away from it like it's causing him so much pain. i'm rly worried abt it :/

and he looks DELIGHTED that till is in so much pain, like it's funny to him, because luka is a FREAK AND WE CAN'T FORGET THAT

he's so exhausted that his weird fake guitar glitches out ;-;

THE RED FLASHBACKS OF CURE ALL GOING DOWN AND IVAN'S DEATH??? THAT'S CRAZY

AND ONCE AGAIN THE RED FLASHING EAR PIECE WHILE TILL IS LOOKING ALL DEFEATED AND HIS NOSE STARTS BLEEDING?? MY BOY IS TIRED.

OK HERE. So Ivan is looking down on till, all high and mighty, serious, scary, all cold and condescending while till is all defeated and broken down

meanwhile, behind Luka, Ivan is practically the exact opposite of the one above till. He's crying, he's dying, he's dressed as he is in cure, but one of the only things the two share is theyre both looking at Till. Even if the two images are opposites, they are always looking at till. UGH. Ok also, i feel like the two are sorta how the two see ivan?? like not completely, but it's his image in their eyes. To till, he's so far above him, he's off putting and mysterious, but to Luka ivan is pathetic, low and close to the ground, emotional and defeated. i'm not saying this is 100% how i think luka sees ivan, but its a part of it.

UGHHH LUKA MIMICING IVANNNNN. ALSO NOT THE LYRICS BEING 'LEAVE NO REGRETS' FOR THIS SEGMENT.

ALSO THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE TWO PICS ABOVE ARE EVERYTHING. Luka is mostly expressionless here, a small smirk, but other than that, his face is blank. Ivan meanwhile, despite being till seeing ivan in luka, is so much more human looking between the two. He's sweating, he's tired from the performance, his hair is slightly messy, he has sorta eyebags/crinkles from his exhaustion, his small smirk, he just looks so much more real then Luka in this moment, despite not being real at all.

AND THE CHANGE BETWEEN HIM SEEING IVAN AND THEN NOTICING MIZI!!!! FROM THE TERRIFIED LOOK ON HIS FACE WITH THE RED REPLACING HIS PUPIL, AND THE LITTLE PINK EYELIGHT AFTER HE SEES MIZI!!! INSANE.

AND SUDDENLY WHEN HE LOOKS IN THE CROWD AGAIN HE DOESN'T JUST SEE ALL OF THE RED, ALL OF THE BRIGHT LIGHTS, HE SEES MIZI, AND HE SEES THE PINK OF THOSE AROUND HER, AND NOTHIGN ELSE.

AND HE BEGINS TO SING AGAIN. AND HAS THE MOTIVATION TO KEEP FIGHTING.

LUKA IS FLABBERGASTED AT ALL THIS

AND TILL, SUDDENLY REINVIGORATED TO KEEP GOING, SINGS, AND ALSO THE EAR PIECE GOES GREEN.

Luka seems genuinely annoyed at this and im so sorry bcs at this point im just narrarating whats happening im not good at analysis sorry ;-;

AND HERE!! WHERE TILL TRANSITIONS FROM THE DARK GREEN ALL AROUND HIM TO MIZI'S SOFT PINK!!! HE'S INSPIRED AND HAS HOPE. ACTUAL HOPE.

AND THE PINK ALL AROUND THEM IS SO SWEET, THEY'RE REACHING OUT TO EO, MIZI HOPING TO SAVE TILL AND TILL SO DESPERATE TO BE SAVED ONLY FOR HIM TO GET SHOT IMMEDIATELY AFTER?? UGH.

the absolute horror and pain in mizi's expression as she watches till fall ;-; he was the last person left from before, and now mizi's is all alone.

OK IMMA CONTINUE THIS IN ANOTHER POST BCS THERES A LIMIT TO HOW MANY IMAGES BUT JUST YOU WAIT. IM COOKING HERE I SWEAR.

[rwbyrg]

RWBY Ship Parallels #1: Fear & Bravery

There are too many ship parallels to put them all in one meta, so I'll make individual posts as I remember them. The first one I want to tackle is how all the canon or hinted-at-being-canon ships all have pivotal moments where the themes of being afraid and/or having courage come up.

Some elaborations under the cut!

For starters, just for context to refer back to throughout the post, the definition of courage/bravery is as follows:

noun 1. the ability to do something that frightens one. 2. strength in the face of pain or grief.

I was initially going to list these chronologically, but we're going to do it on a ship by ship basis instead. First up:

Renora

The first incident for them happens all the way back in V4 during their backstory flashback. Ren underwent a small arc learning from his father that sometimes the worst action to take is not taking any action at all, even if it's scary. He then tries to support Nora by teaching her this same lesson: that they both need to be brave. She expresses vulnerability about how scared she is, Ren confesses to feeling the same, and together they decide to look after each other from that point on. Which makes everything just a bit less frightening.

We also revisit these same themes in their V8 confession. First we see Nora criticizing Ren for running away just because things got difficult:

And after Ren owns up to this cowardice, the things he did out of fear of failure, the conversation shifts. Nora admonishes herself, and Ren lists things off about her that he admires, the last of which - while not using the word itself - calls to how brave of a person she is and cites it as one of the main reasons why he loves her. Because as the definition above states, being strong and helping people without worrying about how much it might hurt you in turn is what it means to have courage.

WhiteKnight

Their heart-to-heart in V9E9 says it all. Weiss has been carrying the weight of failing to save Atlas since it fell, and after Ruby's actions in the episodes prior, she became aware (a bit too late) of how those same failures were weighing on their leader. So when Jaune acknowledges the harm he caused from trying so desperately not to repeat their past mistakes, Weiss is the perfect person to step up for reassurance.

She knows that their failures do not equate to their worth or all the good they're capable of doing. And reminding Jaune of this, calling him a brave and good person in spite of his failures, is what he needed to hear to be able to reach an acceptance he hadn't been able to achieve in all those years trapped alone in the Ever After.

(Also the framing parallel of BB and WK both holding each other is a very nice touch.)

Bumbleby

With BB it's not just one or two moments. Blake and Yang's characters both centre around the themes of cowardice and bravery since their beginnings and we see it come up throughout the show a lot. Back in V2, Yang sees the bravery in Blake when she herself can only focus on the opposite:

Blake: When you figured out I was a faunus I didn't know what to do, so I ran. when I realized my oldest partner had become a monster, I ran! Even my semblance... I was born with ability to leave behind a shadow of myself. An empty copy that takes the hit while I run away.

In V4 and 5 we see Yang struggling to get back on her feet after losing her arm and the trauma she endured at Beacon. Blake tells Sun that she sees Yang as the "embodiment of strength" and we, the audience, get to see the proof of this every time she keeps fighting despite shaking, and especially when she faces off with Raven in the finale.

These parallel arcs culminate with both of them facing off against Adam together, but most especially gets called back to in their mutual confession scene in V9:

Yang acknowledges what she saw in Blake all those years ago, that she doesn't give up on what matters to her, even when people hurt her, she still fights for what's important. While Blake acknowledges Yang's reliability, her strength, and her courage. And both of them, like Renora, cite these reasons as things they admire, and reasons why they love each other.

Now last, but certainly not least:

Rosegarden

One of the very first things Oscar says to Ozpin when he leaves the farm is that he's scared. This comes back time and time again, especially in the Atlas arc where Oscar spends so much of his time counselling Ironwood against letting his fear control him (a conflict Ruby is also a part of). Our little prince even has a theme song titled Fear to really drive it home.

Whereas Ruby has always been the poster child of "keep moving forward", no matter how much the trauma, stress, pressure, and grief weighs you down. You just have to be strong and keep pressing on, fighting the monster that took her mother away. No matter what.

So, much like BB, there are themes around bravery, fear, and perseverance that apply to both Ruby and Oscar's personal arcs. Both of them especially have focus on being brave despite fears of loss. With Oscar, it is fear of losing himself to the merge; whereas Ruby has a fear of losing those she loves.

All the way back in the infamous Dojo Scene is where we first see these themes addressed in their dynamic. It starts with Oscar expressing vulnerability to Ruby about how afraid he really is.

Ruby initially tries her usual strategy; surface level reassurances about just pushing through it... but it doesn't work on him. So after some upset from Oscar, she ends up being vulnerable with him too. Something she hadn't done with anyone else in show by that point.

Ruby admits that she's afraid too, not just for herself, but for the threat Salem poses to the world as they know it and the people within it. Ruby tells him about those she's lost and says that if it had been her instead, those friends would have kept fighting too. That vulnerability, which requires courage in and of itself, is what motivates and inspires Oscar to keep moving forward where Ruby's earlier attempt could not. The scene closes off with one more nod to these themes where Ruby pauses at the door and turns back with one final thought:

In both the above scene and the V4 finale, Ruby cites "fighting for those they've lost and those they haven't lost yet" as her main motive to keep fighting. Up until V8/9 she used this as her greatest source of strength, but that strength is a double edged sword which eventually became her greatest weakness when Neo used it against her. First trapping her in a room with all the people she "failed":

And then landing a finishing blow with making her kill lose one of the people she loves most: Oscar.

Ruby can be brave if it means she can protect the people she loves. But just as Penny's death dealt a very big hit to Ruby's hope, what little she had left was crushed at the thought of losing Oscar (and Little) too.

Aside from that, there has also always been an underlying mystery around what having silver eyes means for Ruby. In V4, she is hunted by Tyrian and in V8 she finds out what her fate would have been had he succeeded. A fate which very justifiably terrifies her and seems to be a theme that will carry on into the Vacuo arc. It is also something that was brought up in the second RWBY x JL movie, I talked about this a little bit in this meta, but I'll share it here as well. In the movie, Ruby opens up a bit about this fear saying the following:

“Did you know I lost my mom when I was a kid? I don’t know exactly what happened to her, I don’t really remember her, I just have stories. And I keep trying to live up to those stories, but… I realize they don’t matter anymore. Heroes fall. And I just want to get as much done as I possibly can before I do.”

This scene directly parallels one of Oscar's back in V6:

“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be… me. But I did some thinking, and I do know that I want to do everything I can to help with whatever time I have left.”

Both of these scenes show their respective courage around fears related to their issues with identity. Oscar saying he will do whatever he can before he loses himself, and Ruby doing whatever she can before she loses her life as all heroes eventually will.

So to summarize: Renora, Whiteknight, Bumbleby, and Rosegarden all have a scene where one or both partners cite the other's bravery as something they admire or love about the other person. All of these ships also include at least one scene - but often more that just weren't listed here - where they open up and are vulnerable with each other about their fears and motivations. And lastly, with BB and RG especially, bravery and fear are central themes to both their relationship dynamics as well as their individual character arcs within those pairings, all of which narratively parallel each other extensively.

CRWBY is very consistent with how it writes its ships and this is only the tip of the iceberg of all the parallels we've seen between these partners so far. But that's all for now; thanks for reading!

[rivaldreamer]

Late Night Chat

(More of a Gabriel and Sydney centric fic without much Madison. NOT A SHIP PAIRING)

Sat after the events of the movie. Madison couldn’t find it in her to seal Gabriel away. So, now she, Gabriel and Sydney are on the run. Gabriel continuously starts conflicts with Sydney and she has just about had it. One night, Sydney finds Gabriel outside and confronts him. The two of them fight. Can the two of them find common ground or will this end in bloodshed?

Warnings: Violence, blood, real angsty, Gabriel being an asshole (he gets a bit better by the end tho 🙃)

——————————

Sydney awoke in the dingy motel room to find the bed beside her empty. “Maddie…?”

She sat up, looking around before getting out of bed. Walking outside, she was greeted with the chill night air as she stood on the upstairs walkway overlooking the parking lot.

There, sat on the railing, was her sibling, but Maddie’s head was bowed and judging by the unnatural movements, Sydney realized who she was facing. “Gabriel…?” She called softly, cautiously.

Gabriel turned to face her, movements slow like a predator caught in the wild.

In the dim light, their features were even more unsettling, a sight that would put any sleep paralysis demon to shame. Bloodied disfigured face, their heavy breathes through their exposed teeth and their gaze, cold and haunting.

Sydney really pitied any poor fuck that wandered out in the middle of the night and saw them. Probably would think that they stumbled on some cryptid.

It had been over a month now, since all of this began. Since she found out about Gabriel.

That day in that hospital room just as Gabriel was about to kill her and the woman who birthed them, Madison had finally regained control, stopping Gabriel’s plans and was keen to seal them away once more. To seal them away and ensure they can hurt no one else.

But in that moment, the screams and cries Gabriel let out were not of a rage induced homicidal monster. They were screams of fear, primal fear, like a wounded animal ready to gnaw its own legs off in order to survive. They screamed and screamed; their cries becoming more pitiful as they howled.

They were terrified, crying even.

Madison hesitated then, unable to go through with it. She sank to her knees, hugging her arms as she cried. “I’m sorry-.. I’m so-so sorry Sydney…I-I can’t-…he’s still my-!”

Sydney smiled, pained and strained through her blood stained face and teeth. She approached her sister, hugging her, no words needing to be exchanged. She loved Madison and would do anything for her.

Which was what led them here, hiding out in a dingy motel room on some remote highway. They were running. Gabriel and by proxy Madison were wanted for multiple homicides including a full on massacre of a police precinct.

They had withdrawn as much money as they could from their accounts, packed what they could carry, and said their short goodbyes to their parents.

Madison was keeping Gabriel on a tight leash. Even so, Gabriel wasn’t acting as hostile towards Maddie anymore, seeing as how she was willing to not seal themaway and still treat them like her sibling.

The same could not be said towards Sydney though, they still treated her like an outsider, a threat towards Maddie’s affections towards them. They did not sugar coat, several times they blatantly spat their opinions of her. This life on the run was not easy, made even harder with Gabriel’s unwillingness to cooperate, particularly when it came to Sydney being involved. They’d rather it just be them and Maddie. They’d rather Sydney be out of the picture.

Sydney recalled what she learned, that Gabriel attempted to kill her while she was still in the womb. The thought made her sick to the stomach.

Tonight, it seems like Gabriel had regained some semblance of control as they glared down at her, their unsettling features only amplifying their loathing and disdain for her. Their eyes were sharp, narrowing. Sydney did not miss the way their fingers twitched and clenched.

However, Sydney tried not to let herself be intimidated. She allowed Gabriel to walk all over her, if nothing else then for Maddie’s sake. But she couldn’t let them keep bullying her around forever. 1) Because Sydney refused to keep playing the victim and 2) once again for Maddie’s sake.

Maddie had to constantly be a mediator, and that role along with the constant moving around was taking its toll on her.

Sydney couldn’t let this continue.

“What do you want brat?”

Came Gabriel’s voice from Maddie’s phone tucked away in her pocket, the sound muffled and staticky.

Sydney scowled. “Checking on my sister, thank you very much.”

Gabriel let out a growl.

Sydney deliberately used that term, knowing full well how much it irritated them.

They jumped off the railing, spinning his body around to face Sydney fully, clunky movements as they stomped over and jabbed a finger roughly to her chest. “You watch your mouth brat, or I’ll throw you off this fucking railing!”

“Do it!” Sydney snarled back, “I’m sure Maddie will love to find her baby sister splattered on the concrete in the morning!”

Gabriel growled, looming over her, dark hair falling over their face, their features contorting as as they narrowed their eyes.

Sydney slapped their hand away, folding her arms over her chest. “For fuck sake-! Just don’t keep her out in the cold too long. Maddie’s exhausted, she needs her rest-!”

She was cut off by Gabriel grabbing her face, nails digging into her skin as they yanked her towards them. Sydney yelped, hissing in pain as her hands flew to grab Gabriel’s wrist.

Gabriel leaned in, their hot breath and blood invading her senses. “Touch me like that again and Emily won’t even find your body…”

They threw her roughly, Sydney’s back hitting the wall with pained grunt as she slid to the floor, grasping her aching face.

Her hand pulled back to find blood. Their nails actually dug deep enough to break her skin.

They huffed, turning away from her and sauntering back to the railing.

Sydney gritted her teeth. She’d had enough of this. “What the fuck Gabriel?!” She screeched, getting back up, “what is your fucking problem?!”

They spun back around, eyes wild and erratic. “You! You are my problem brat!”

“No shit Sherlock! Every time I even open my mouth you wanna fucking shank me! I am trying! I am trying to get along with you for Maddie’s sake, because she still loves you and you can’t even do the fucking same!”

Gabriel’s hand slapped to their chest. “Emily is mine! Mine only! We’ve been a part of each other since birth! There’s no place for you in our lives!”

“I’ve been a part of her life for far longer than you have you fucking parasite!” She snarled. It was a low blow calling them that, she knew. But in the heat of the moment, she didn’t care, only knowing that it would hurt them.

Gabriel roared, the sound coming from both their throat and Maddie’s phone, the device’s pitch so painful Sydney felt like her ears were about to bleed.

They surged forward, grasping her by the throat, easily lifting her off the floor. Their grip was deadly, cutting off her air and as Sydney began struggling to breathe, she began to regret her choices.

She let out a strangled gasp, clawing at their arm.

“NOT SO TOUGH NOW ARE YOU BRAT?!”

Sydney fought and struggled, kicking her legs out, trying to think. “Y-you-!” She gasped, “c-cuh!- can…-CANT! She choked out.

Gabriel tightened their grip.

“Why not?! Emily will get over you, I’m all she needs! I’m all she’ll EVER need!”

“G-Gab…” Sydney could barely think, barely breathe. Her movements became sluggish and her struggles lessened. She was slowly losing consciousness.

Through it all, tears slipped out from the corners of her eyes.

“Wh-why…?” She uttered, her voice barely above a whisper, “why’d-… hah-…hate…me…?”

“BECAUSE YOU REPLACED ME!!!”

They roared, tossing Sydney aside.

Sydney hit the floor, gasping for her, sucking in as much oxygen for her aching lungs.

Gabriel stood over her, panting.

Without a word, they stomped back to the railing, perching themself back on it as they stared off into the night sky.

Sydney laid on the floor catching her breath.

Sitting up and gingerly touching her throat that was definitely going to bruise in the morning, her mind began catching with what Gabriel had said.

Replaced…

She looked over at them. Their back, or Maddie’s front, towards her. Maddie may as well have looked like she had just dozed off while sitting on the railing, no other indication of anything peculiar. But Sydney knew, that behind Maddie’s head, there was Gabriel, always there.

It was always so strange, witnessing the janky way they piloted the body. Backwards movements that would be uncomfortable for any normal person. But, Gabriel was not normal and it was the only way they could get by.

Sydney wondered, what it must be like, to be born in such a way. To be born restricted and dependent on another, without a body to call your own. To never have full independence or freedom.

Gabriel could be awful, but it was hard to not pity them.

They never asked to be this way.

Maddie was able to live, she was able to free. She was all they had, the only other reassuring presence in their life.

Then along came Sydney, another sibling, a perfect child and companion, that could actually be interacted with.

Everything that Gabriel was not.

Sydney slowly stood, wincing at the pain, staring at Gabriel who did not once acknowledge her.

She sighed walking back into the room.

Gabriel thought she had finally gotten the message when they heard the motel room door open.

Sighing, they looked back over the night sky.

In the countryside, the sky was so clear and the stars so bright.

It was nice.

Quiet.

Peaceful.

Without constant annoyances, sounds, smells, sights and textures which bombarded their senses and made them disoriented and sick. The constant moving, the constant being hidden away, it was suffocating.

But they still did it for Emily.

She still loved them, she still cared.

She still wanted them in her life, despite everything. She could have locked them away, she had all the power. But she still cried tears and wanted them there.

The only snag being that brat.

That damn brat…

They should have finished the job ages ago before she was even born. That way, Emily would have no one else but then. The only thing keeping them from ending the brat’s pitiful existence was the fact that doing so would no doubt cause Emily to hate them, lock them away once more.

All those years, locked away in darkness, consciousness barely there.

It was cold.

It was lonely.

Gabriel shivered as a harsh breeze flew past them, hugging their front to keep warm. They almost let out an ironic laugh at how the night’s conditions reminded them so much of that prison in their mind. Even if Maddie was with them, she was unaware of the small control they had regained. They’d rather keep it that way. Something still for them, some freedom they could still have.

The sound of the door opening and approaching footsteps and made Gabriel’s peaceful state of mind vanish as their annoyance spiked.

When will that brat learn-

Their thoughts cut off as a blanket was thrown over their shoulders.

They stiffened, confused.

Sydney, nonchalantly walked over and also got on the railing, swinging her legs to dangle over the edge, keeping a good distance from them.

Gabriel narrowed their eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting here?” She answered, as if it was obvious.

“No, this…” they lifted the blanket up but did not throw it off. It was cold after all.

“Do you expect this pitiful act of kindness to change anything?”

Sydney sighed. “No, I expect it to keep you both from catching something.”

Ah, so she was only worried about Emily’s wellbeing.

They snarled. “I can take care of her, we don’t need your charity.”

Sydney sighed, hanging her head. “Goddamnit Gabriel…” she turned to them, the fight in her eyes replaced with exhaustion, “have you ever once considered that I could be your sister too?”

At that, Gabriel became silent.

They turned away from her, looking back over the sky.

“I’m sorry…” she said, piquing Gabriel’s attention, “for calling you a parasite.”

“What? Like it isn’t the truth?” Gabriel snarled.

“It’s not,” Sydney said, “a parasite doesn’t think, doesn’t feel. You’re not that.”

“What are you trying to achieve brat? That all those sweet words will land you in my good graces?”

“I’m trying to be to you what Maddie is to me; family!”

She face Gabriel fully, her face strained and desperate.

“You are every bit a part of Maddie as she is a part of you. She still loves you and believes you’re worth saving, so I trust her. I don’t’ know what else I can do to make you believe I fucking care!”

She buried her face in her hands. “Goddamnit! I have been driving cross states for hours, pulling all nighters, just to keep you both safe!”

Gabriel fell silent.

They turned away, looking back to the sky.

Sydney sighed, doing the same, taking in the clean country air.

After a bout of silence, Gabriel finally spoke. “How do I know…?”

Sydney blinked, turning to them. “What…?”

“How do I know…that you care for me too and not just…her…?”

Sydney eyes widened. This was probably the softest Gabriel’s ever spoken to her.

She gave a sad smile. “I’ll show you if you let me care about you…”

Gabriel’s head turned down, mulling it over.

“And, hey,” Sydney shrugged, “if I break your trust or hurt you in anyway, you can still kill me.”

Gabriel chuckled darkly. “Careful… that’s not a joke around me.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

Gabriel’s head perked up at that, turning to Sydney but she was already looking back over the sky.

Neither of them said another word after that, simply sat a good distance apart in silence.

However, as the minutes ticked by, the tension slowly melted away.

And as the sun came up over the horizon, painting the sky in warm hues, Gabriel noted how it didn’t feel as cold and lonely as before…

[justwearthegoddamncardigan]

Real or not real

Minho x fem!reader

Set partway through scorch trials (movieverse)

Not the hunger games clickbait oop

Summary: they fake a relationship. thats it. just wanted to try the fake dating trope

Warnings: language, minor injury (some blood, but not heavily described)

You lean your weight against a wall, panting tiredly.

You've just hiked through pitch-dark tunnels and over a sand dune to get to the city, and you have no idea how to find your friends, or Marcus.

You and Minho, like Thomas and Brenda had missed the ziplines when WCKD raided the warehouse.

As the building crumbled around you, the four of you had leapt down an elevator shaft, and been separated by rubble at the bottom.

Brenda had told you and Minho to go out through some tunnels behind.

Which leads you to now.

"We need to-" you let out a cough, and your throat feels paper-dry. "We need to find the others."

"Yeah," says Minho. "Shuck."

"What?"

You turn to see Minho craning his neck, trying to look at his own shoulder.

You walk closer and see a gash about as long as your hand, cutting from over his shoulder to a little way down his back.

"Shit," you mutter. "Okay, we're gonna get some help, and then find everyone."

"Sounds like a plan," he responds.

"Does it hurt?" you ask, before immediately regretting it.

"Never mind, stupid question." You shake your head.

"For your information, it hurts like hell," he tells you. "Luckily, I'm a shuckin' badass."

You snort. "Alright tough guy, let's go."

⭒----⭒

You get into town and see a few people milling about.

Everyone is covered in dirt and sweat and wearing tattered clothing, with grim facial expressions, so you and Minho fit right in.

"Hey, do you-" The man brushes past as you approach him, and he doesn't look back.

"Y/n," rasps Minho, looking worse by the second, bleeding heavily and clearly in a lot of pain. "No one's helping us here."

You turn in a circle, taking in your surroundings properly.

A few people spare you a glance. Most don't even bother.

Looks like you'll have to pick your target.

You spy a pair of young women, just a bit older than you.

One of them has a hard face, like the rest of the people.

But the other looks at you and Minho, before looking away quickly.

She's got grief in her eyes and a gold band on her ring finger.

"Okay," you say, taking Minho's hand. "Follow my lead."

"What?" he hisses as you walk over to the two women. "Y/n, what are you doing?"

You shush him and approach them with your face schooled into nervous, fearful expression.

"Excuse me, could you please help us?" You keep Minho's hand clasped in yours.

"We can't," says one of them cuttingly.

"Please," you beg. You slip your arm around Minho's waist, ignoring his sharp inhale. "My boyfriend is hurt."

The one with the ring shakes her head sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"Please," you repeat. "If it gets worse... I can't lose him." You're only partially acting at this point.

She hesitates. "Where are you guys going? Do you have a home?"

"We're looking for our friends," you say.

She slides her gaze to the other woman, who sighs. "Fine."

⭒----⭒

They take you and Minho to their little apartment, where you follow Cindy into a storage side room to find a first aid kit.

You learn that they're sisters; Cindy, the one who took you in, and Jennifer.

You hold up the first aid kit as you and Cindy walk back into the main room.

"Thanks," says Minho, reaching out to take it.

"Hey," you smack his hands away gently. "Obviously I'm doing this. Your shucking back is sliced open. How would you even reach?"

"Fine." He sits in a chair, turning his back to you. "Thank you," he adds begrudgingly.

You gingerly shift the ripped pieces of his shirt, trying to get a clear view of the wound.

"Just take the damn shirt off." You jump at Jennifer's voice, looking over to where she's standing in the kitchenette, casually sipping from a chipped mug.

Cindy is busying herself at the counter, clearly trying to give you some semblance of privacy in this one-room apartment.

"Uhh-"

"I'm looking away," says Jennifer, turning around. "Prissy kids," she mutters.

You look at Minho, unsure of what to do.

He shrugs, speaking so only you can hear. "If I'm your boyfriend, it shouldn't be nothin' you haven't seen before."

You heartrate skips a beat as he lifts the hem of his shirt, and mentally shake yourself.

He's injured, for shuck's sake.

You help him guide the shirt carefully over the wound, and open the first aid kit.

⭒----⭒

When you finish cleaning and bandaging, Minho leaves the shirt off, cause it's still crusted with blood and covered in dust.

To reiterate: Minho leaves the shirt off.

You keep moving around, finding jobs to do in the apartment that don't involve any sort of proximity to Minho. And his shirtless self.

Shucking hell. What is happening?

You help Cindy make dinner and jump up to help Jennifer bring in supplies.

"Here," says Jennifer, tossing Minho a shirt.

He puts it on and flops back down onto the couch, looking exhausted.

You remember that you've both been up since yesterday, and being in pain is clearly very draining.

Cindy catches you watching him. "Go sit with your boy," she says, smiling.

"Oh, I can still help around if you-"

"Please," interrupts Jennifer, rolling her eyes. "He's been watching you all afternoon like a lost puppy. We're fine here, go give him some attention for god's sake."

You blush slightly, and Jennifer rolls her eyes again before you move to the couch beside Minho.

"Hey," you say softly.

"Y/n..." he murmurs, leaning over so his head rests on your shoulder.

You let out a quiet chuckle. It's strange to see Minho like this. He's usually so cool-headed, and snarky, and loud. This is all soft and sleepy, and it's kinda... cute?

Wow. Apparently you think Minho's cute now.

Are your fake feelings becoming real?

The thought of actually being with Minho sends a thrill through you; equal parts fear and hope.

You shift carefully so you don't disrupt him, moving so you're lying on the couch with him.

He instinctively wraps his arms around you, still asleep, and you just melt into it.

Whatever. It'll sell the whole dating thing anyways.

⭒----⭒

You go out onto the balcony to help Cindy take down her laundry.

The ring on her finger glints in the sunlight as she reaches up.

"Did you have someone?" you ask carefully, gesturing at the ring.

She smiles sadly. "I did."

She pauses a bit. "You can ask, you know."

"How'd you lose them?" you ask softly.

"He was bitten by a Crank. Shot himself before he could go crazy like the rest of 'em. Didn't want to let me watch." She shakes her head.

"You need to hold on to Minho, alright? You're lucky to have each other. Love is nearly impossible to find these days."

You look down. "I don't know if..."

Cindy huffs out a laugh. "You don't think that's love? Sweetie, you should see the way he looks at you."

"H-how does he look at me?" you breathe.

She grins at you. "The exact same way you look at him."

⭒----⭒

"So, where exactly are you guys going?" asks Jennifer that morning.

"We're looking for a guy named Marcus," says Minho. "We think he'll know where our friends are."

Cindy and Jennifer exchange a glance.

"Look, whatever rumour you've heard about him, it's a lie. Marcus isn't helping anyone, he's bad news. Trust us," says Jennifer.

"You don't wanna go looking for him," agrees Cindy.

You flick your gaze to Minho's before leaning forward on the counter.

"If he's harmed people, he could be doing the same to our friends. We need to find Marcus," you say insistently.

"...what if we snuck them in from the back somehow?" suggests Cindy, looking at Jennifer.

"You'd have to get out quick," Jennifer tells you. "Find your friends and leave immediately."

You nod. "Alright, it's a plan."

⭒----⭒

Cindy and Jennifer lead you to the back door of a building.

"It'll be better if you get away from here as fast as possible," says Jennifer.

"So this'll be goodbye," continues Cindy.

You thank them for everything, and they wish you luck.

Then you and Minho step into the building.

You keep your hand linked with his as you push through a crowd of bodies, refusing the dubious-looking drinks.

"Y/n!" Minho calls.

You turn, but you can't hear what he's saying over the pounding music and noise.

"What?"

He rolls his eyes and pulls you closer, speaking directly into your ear.

You suppress shivers as his breath sends tingles down your neck.

"Over there," he points to an office. "Maybe we can find information."

You slip through the door, locking it behind you and switching the lights on.

You see a bunch of documents full of payments and signed agreements.

"What the..."

"He's sending kids to WCKD," you realise.

"Shit," says Minho, staring down at the papers.

You both jump as someone tries to open the door. You hear keys jangle as the person moves to unlock the door.

You turn to Minho with a panicked gaze as the door unlocks with a click.

Then, you're being pushed up against a wall, and Minho's lips are on yours.

Holy shit. He's kissing you.

And it's not just a gentle peck.

He's got his arms gripping your hips, and his mouth is crushed against yours, moving in a way that's messy but good.

You respond naturally, fisting his shirt in your hands and kissing back.

The door swings open.

"Oi, you kids! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, sorry," you say, breathless in a way that's way too real.

"We were just-"

"Get out." the guy cuts Minho off, pointing out the door.

You stumble out, unable to keep your laughter in.

Minho yanks you into a quieter corner, grinning too.

"Hey, sorry about that," he says. "I was just-"

"I know," you say. "Just covering for us. Was a good plan anyway. Okay, we should go-"

"What if it wasn't just a coverup?" Minho grabs your wrist as he speaks.

"What?"

"What if I wanted to kiss you for real? What if I liked you for real?"

You hold his gaze, searching his eyes.

Then you lean in and kiss him, feeling fire warm you from your fingertips, which hold his face, all the way down to your toes.

"Oi!"

You spin around in surprise.

"Thomas?" exclaims Minho.

"Shucking hell, we've been looking for you guys!" you say incredulously.

"What, lookin' for us down each other's throats?" deadpans Newt.

"Come on, the others are outside," says Thomas, tugging Minho's arm.

"What happened?" you ask as you step out of the building.

"Brenda and I were in there too," explains Thomas. "Newt and the rest of 'em found us. And we got the Right Arm's location from Marcus."

"We just needed to find you two lovesick idiots before leaving," finishes Newt.

You smile at Minho, and he squeezes your hand.

Newt rolls his eyes. "I'm glad you guys sorted out your klunk, you were driving the rest of us mad."

"Come on, let's find this safe haven."

Hello, thanks to all for reading! Hope you enjoyed this one!

Requests are open if you have any ideas ❤

[ko-fanatic]

Leave All Your Love And Your Longing Behind | Chapter Two: Beginning Divergence

Rating: Teen and above Pairing: Implied VanCo (Zaun Dads) Characters: Viktor, Rio, Singed, Silco, Vander (mentioned) Content warnings: Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Trauma, Internalised Ableism, Unhealthy Weight Loss, References and Illusions to Domestic Violence, Co-dependency, Intrusive Thoughts, Mental Illness, Past Drowning, Shimmer Use Summary: A young inventor meets a washed up revolutionary. Or, Silco’s villain arc stopped when it had just begun. PART ONE AO3 LINK

Viktor was slow that morning, as he collected the glowing fungus that grew among the cave walls, ready to feed Rio. He hadn’t bumped into her or Singed yet, but it was becoming less and less common to do so before entering the ramshackle lab the old man had constructed. She was getting weaker, slower, despite his attempts to help Singed nurse her back to health.

He didn’t like thinking about it for too long. While the doctor had told him of the distinct possibility, warned him that it would be hard work and, while there was some kind of desperate need for the mutation to survive, there was a possibility it wouldn’t.

Viktor could appreciate that, despite his age. He could understand it and turn the words over again and again in his head as he outlined possible options in his ratty notebook. 

His notebook used to be nicer, a long time ago. He tried to take care of it, despite breaking its spine by accident, and having to fish it out of the river water when he slipped and dropped it in there. He’d sniffled back tears as he laid it to dry on one of the sundrenched rocks nearby, worried that he’d ruined it forever.

Still, for Rio and the doctor, he persevered. Despite the rotten ache in his bones, he trudged up to the shack with yet more specimens. 

The door opened with a creak, the inside of the lab darker than usual, but a purple glow emanating from within. At the centre, tubes and wires plunged into her decaying body, her pained screeches increasing in pitch as her bugged eyes landed on him, spasming in obvious torture.

Part of him said to turn back, but before he truly realised it, he’d discarded his cane and dropped to his knees before her, thin arms wrapping around her head and cheek pressed to cold scales. He nuzzled into her, like he had countless times before, breathing hard and deep as his lungs would allow. 

Pain bloomed from his knee, radiating out, but he ignored it for her sake. 

“Rio… Will live.”

Viktor hadn’t even noticed the doctor, the man blending into the shadows and Viktor’s focus tunnelling on his tormented friend. 

“You did this?!” He demanded, voice cracking at the edges. It should have sounded angry, matched the pulse of ‘how dare you, how dare you, how dare you do this to her!’ under his skin, but the rage seemed so dampened by the sheer horror, the dismay at seeing her like this.

“Okay, Rio, show Dr Singed your trick,” He’d laughed, back when she was healthy, before tossing the mushroom a bit above her head, “Catch, zlatíčko!”

She trilled happily when she succeeded, scuttling up to nose at his chest as the doctor ruffled his hair. 

“I thought you understood,” Singed began, a lilt of accusation to his tone, “The mutation must survive.”

Hurt. Burning. His leg screamed, but it was nothing compared with his heart and the nerves under his skin. Had he been bigger, stronger, meaner… 

But he wasn’t, and so he simply went to shove Singed away, to run out the door and never come back, to cut the ties completely. 

A knock at the door interrupted the scene. 

Singed grabbed him by the arm, yanking him back and away from the door, away from Rio, and into the shadows. For some inexplicable reason - fear, something whispered - he stayed put, wide eyes flicking from Singed, to Rio, to the door, to Rio. She was still making those squeals, her feet scrambling for some semblance of purchase to pull up her heavy, festering body from the ground. 

“Come in,” Singed bid, straightening his jacket and combing back what remained of his hair with his skeletal fingers.

The man who enters is tall, dressed in fine clothing that could almost pass for Piltover’s fashions, if in a deeper colour palette. His black hair is cropped roughly, like someone had just hacked off chunks and he hadn’t got around to making it any neater. A thick, stark white bandage winds around his head, completely obscuring half of his face - including one of his eyes. Viktor instantly sinks back, pressing himself to the wall. He recalls an illustration in a book from long ago, and feels like it’s come alive from the paper. 

He feels like he’s looking at Death. 

“It’s good to see you up and moving,” Singed hums, moving to take the man’s coat but stopping short when no motion is made to shrug it off, “How was the trial dose? Any… difficulties? Abnormal sensations?”

No answer. 

Viktor trails the man’s gaze to Rio, still squirming on the floor, and his heart stops. 

“What on earth?” The stranger grinds out, disgust oozing from his voice, “You’re wasting time, on this?”

There’s a scuffle, for a moment, words hurriedly exchanged - hissed, like the stray cats that would gather in alleyways. Not for long, however, as the other man easily overpowers the doctor, slipping a knife from the sheath on his belt.

Viktor should stay hidden. Every strand of self-preservation and sense is telling him to wait it out. What was going to happen to Rio, anyway, when he ran out that door?

But Viktor, for all his deficits, has always wanted to help. When Viktor wants something, if it’s anywhere near his reach, he’ll grab it with both hands and wrestle it close to his chest. 

Which is how he finds himself with his arms around the stranger’s waist, tears streaming from his eyes from both pain and the cacophony inside of him, his feet pushing as hard as they can and all his pitiful weight against the man’s momentum.

“Don’t kill her!” He screams, like he’s the one about to be murdered - he might be, “Don’t kill her! Don’t hurt her! She doesn’t… Doesn’t deserve that! She’s a good girl!”

He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, really, babbling at the man as if he might stumble upon the right combination of words that would just… Make people treat her well! Or, at least, like a living thing!

For all the man looks like an illustration of Death, he hisses out an “I’ll deal with you later” at Singed, before turning shoving him towards the door. The doctor only gives Viktor - who nearly fell over at the lack of opposing force against him - half of a fleeting glance before slinking outside, tail between his legs.

The man huffs a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, before slowly kneeling down to be eye level with Viktor. The knife is placed on the floor, a gesture of good will, and he’s left staring into one very blue eye. 

“You don’t want her to die?” He asks, and the… gentleness of it truly shocks him, even with an undercurrent of something he can’t discern, “But do you honestly think she deserves to live like that?”

He shakes his head, and means it from the depths of his soul. Rio doesn’t deserve any of this. If she were to die, she deserved to do so on her comfy rock, in a nice patch of sunlight, having head-scritches and little forehead kisses. The image is saccharine, perhaps, but she was… was…

She was his zlatíčko, and deserved to die comfortable and happy. 

The man picks up the knife by the blade, offering Viktor the handle. “Sometimes, when a creature is sick and in pain, the kindest thing to do is let it end quickly, and if you refuse to allow anyone else to do it…” He trails off, coaxing Viktor to clasp his hands around the cold metal, “Do you understand?”

Viktor nods, hand searching the ground for his cane in order to stand more comfortably, his pain tolerance stretched to the limit of what he can deal with in this situation. The man seems surprised when Viktor uses it, watching as he shuffles towards Rio as if he’s surveying his opponent’s moves in a game of chess; analysing.

He puts a hand on her head, strokes up and down her scales, and swipes quick and clean with the knife. It’s beautifully sharp, cutting through like butter, and the pulsating light slowly starts to dim. 

Rio begins to catch her breath once more as the severed tubes hang limp and lifeless, Viktor swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“If living sick and in pain was cause to slit someone’s throat,” He begins before turning to glare at the man’s shocked expression, “then someone should have done that to me when I was born!”

It’s a false comparison, Viktor will realise later in life; humans can understand and consent, when an animal cannot. But in that moment it was so raw, a ragged, infected wound. A thought that had followed him, despite his young age, for… as long as he could recall. 

“I’ll feed her, look after her… She’ll have a kind death,” He promises. Perhaps mostly to himself. Perhaps a plea for such a thing as a kind death. 

He turns back to the man, who’s shock seemed to have morphed into something - or a mix of somethings - Viktor just couldn’t place. Another rough scrub of his eyes, probably a little pink from the poking and prodding.

“What’s your name?” The man asks. 

“Viktor.”

“Mine is Silco.”

-*-*-

Viktor kept to his word, and then some. 

He’d spread out a soft blanket on one of Rio’s favourite rocks, the few threadbare pillows and cushions Singed had at the shack placed over any sharp edges. It took a while to coax her up onto it, her movements sluggish and difficult, but Viktor wasn’t in a much better state after so much strain on his leg, the bashing it took from falling to the floor - multiple times. He leaned heavily on his cane, kept pace with Rio as she slowly but surely managed to ascend the rock, and settle with what sounded like a contented noise. 

Viktor hoped she liked the blanket, even if it was more likely due to not being expected to move anymore.

He could relate. 

When she was settled, Viktor curled up next to her, leaning against the crux of her shoulder and neck, hand idly scratching at her chin as she let out a noise resembling a relaxed sigh. He closed his eyes, a lot more calm now that she was out of harm's way.

“You must really love her,” Silco commented, the sound of water sloshing as he trudged the shallow pool, his trousers soaked below the knee and his nice shoes probably ruined.

“She’s my best friend.”

From that point on, Silco made it a habit to drop by. Viktor had no real idea why, as any miniscule spectacle had surely worn off quickly, but he didn’t find the need to mention it. But, the doctor was nowhere to be seen, and so Viktor tried to push the nagging worry from his mind - lack of conclusion to the dramatics or not. He didn’t mind not knowing, happy to continue on without having to confront him.

He’s afraid to ask, if he’s completely honest.

In terms of Rio’s care, he pretty much continued as usual. He hand fed her, rather than teaching her tricks, and he mostly spent his time laying by her side. Attentive, either feeling the expansion and contraction of her ribs or listening for the beat of her heart. He’d be there, like he promised, to give her that soft, peaceful death. 

“You feel bad, don’t you, no matter what I do?” He’d whispered to her one day, “I… know what it’s like. To live in pain. To feel sick all the time. If I could do something to stop someone’s pain, then I would in a heartbeat. I just… I don’t know how to do that, yet.”

He looked up through the crack in the cave wall, at the strange colours the fissure gasses glowed in the dim light.

“I’ll learn.”

-*-*-

Silco had visited on the day Rio drew her last breaths. 

He’d taken to bringing a picnic basket, when he realised Viktor was sacrificing meagre portions off his own plate as well as the fungi around the cave. Looking after the dying creature all hours of the day had thinned him out further, eyes tired and movements sluggish. 

They’d taken to talking - about many things - during Silco’s visits. He’d even divulged that his parents weren’t really… in the picture, anymore, a mining accident having taken more than Piltover could ever repay. He’d clenched his fists, but had steadfastly not cried again. Tempered the rage, breathed through the welling of tears. He didn’t want Silco to have to deal with that again. 

However, they were utterly silent as they watched the sweet girl have her final moments.

“She hasn’t been drinking, refuses anything I try to offer, so… It’s her time,” Viktor reiterated, although neither of them needed to be reminded, “I hope I made her happy.”

“You did,” Silco stated, like a fact, despite having very little ability to know for sure. It still made Viktor smile a little, sad and a bit shy.

It didn’t really take long, all things considered, until she passed away. It was mostly quiet, although the rattle in her chest a couple of minutes after the fact had scared Viktor half to death. 

He considered the… impractical option of burying her, but Silco was quick to dissuade him from it. 

“All of the plants and animals in this cave will come and eat her body,” Silco began, placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, “It sounds distasteful, perhaps, but she’ll help them live another day, and thrive and multiply. That’s how nature works, even if humans often pull against it.”

“So… It’s like she lives on, passing her life to everything around her,” Viktor smiles, a couple of scuttling bugs catch his eyes, making their way up the craggy rock. He supposed, at that size, it’d be quite the perilous journey.

All to eat and continue living, to help their families. It’s kind of beautiful, even if there are tears in his eyes and he’d give anything to hear Rio’s happy chirps again.

Maybe, when he’s gone, he could be some yellow flowers, or a tree. Help the air get a little cleaner, for everyone around him; man, beast and bug alike.

“I have a proposal for you, Viktor,” Silco started, a small twitch to the edge of his lip that Viktor had yet to fully decipher. 

“Which is?”

-*-*-

Viktor could hardly believe his reflection as the tailor led him to the mirror, having him turn this way and that to truly show off the product. He hadn’t been unhappy with his previous attire - it served its purpose well enough - but this was… Nothing like he’d had before.

An asymmetric waistcoat over a wine red shirt, leather detailing on his right shoulder and the quality fabric a pretty plum colour, stripped with gold. The trousers were more basic, but tidy and fashionable, black as night. The boots were polished to perfection, yet so sturdy, the tight leather straightening his ankle a bit further, but not so much as to cause a lot of pain. 

He looked so… different. 

Like he didn’t -

The shop bell rang, Silco stepping through the door after the quick errand he’d run out to complete. The warmth in his eyes was almost too much, the smile on his lips nearly proud, despite the fact that Viktor hadn’t really done anything. He simply put on some clothes that had been picked out for him.

“Happy adoption day, Viktor,” Silco wished, handing Viktor what he’s been holding behind his back. A strange, packaged rectangle. 

“Thank you, but… What is it?” He asked, taking the gift and turning it over in his hands. 

“It’s chocolate,” Silco enlightened, explaining how to open the packaging correctly, “A lot of boys your age like it.”

Viktor took a bite, and had to make a conscious effort to not wolf it down. So sweet, so creamy. It was probably one of the best things he’d ever tasted. He took another tiny bite, as slow as he could manage. If he took little bites, the flavours would last longer on his tongue and he could savour it all the more. 

“It’s amazing!” He enthused between those little morsels, nearly humming in contented pleasure.

“Well, I’m sure I can get you some more,” Silco assured, “A little indulgence will be good for you.”

As they left the tailor’s shop with a date to collect the purchases - and an empty pit in Viktor’s gut at the thought of the cost - Viktor noticed Silco’s gaze catching and snapping away from his reflection in the shop windows. The bandage he’d had when they first met had been removed, letting the wound breath, and exposing gnarled, dark skin interspersed with rough stitches to all eyes of the undercity. With that, Viktor had noticed the new habit develop, the glances getting a little longer each time.

That night, Silco simply stared into the mirror in his bedroom, after Viktor had supposedly been put to bed, poking and prodding at the raw flesh. But Viktor couldn’t sleep, had gotten up to get a glass of water, and had stumbled upon the display through the half-open door.

“Ugly,” Silco bit out, throwing a blanket over the mirror.

Viktor went back to bed without his water.

-*-*-

Indulgence was certainly the word, Viktor thought as Silco seemingly handed over stacks of money at a time. The cane he’d made himself - crude, a bit uncomfortable, but functional - was exchanged for one that was properly measured. Metal replacing wood, a nice grip, not broken apart and haphazardly strapped together. 

Then, there was his knee. The new boots helped his ankle, if only a little, but Silco was already talking about replacing his leather strapping with something better. 

Better.

Better.

Better.

NOT GOOD ENOUGH!

“Stop!” 

The yell surprised everyone in the room, including Viktor himself. Silco had frozen in his tracks, the shop assistant startling so hard that she knocked a jar of loose screws and bolts off the countertop. His hands pressed against his ears, squeezing as tight as he could, tense fingers feeling like they could bury under his skin and penetrate his skull. 

He could feel the weight of stares on his back, but he didn’t dare raise his head. He just stared at the floor, eyes painfully wide.

He couldn’t keep going like this, couldn’t have yet more debt to Silco crushing down on his shoulders. He could’ve refused the new clothes, pretty as they were, but Silco had insisted. He could’ve refused the chocolate, but he’d thought that it was cheaper than it actually was. 

But the idea of replacing his cane and strapping, that what he did wasn’t good enough, made him want to scratch the skin off his arms. They weren’t pretty, but they worked, and he could handle the design deficits because he was the one who made those mistakes.

“Viktor?” 

A tentative hand rests on his shoulder, hesitating for the same amount of time it takes him to draw in three ragged breaths - anywhere from seconds to a minute, Viktor can’t be sure. He bites his lip, hard, like he’s trying to tear off a chunk to swallow whole, but is only rewarded by the smallest twang of metallic salt on his tongue. Probably for the best.

In. Out. In. Out. 

Push it down. A momentary lapse of control could, maybe, be played off. It was embarrassing, to have an outburst so strong, especially in public. Especially after Silco took him in. Especially after he’d been given so much.

It was difficult to remove his hands from his head, nerves firing off commands that stuttered and fizzled out before they could be applied. An awful stop-start of just wanting his body to listen to him for once. But he managed. So slowly, tremors and slight spasms ran along his fingers, but they did come away.

He could feel Silco’s hand on his back, gently guiding him past the staring eyes and out into the street, then tucking into the small alleyway a mere two doors down. The lighting changes - oil lamp, to neon, to dank street lights - hurt his eyes in a dull way, one easily overshadowed by every other sensation. 

Silco adopts him, and he starts acting like a spoiled brat? Awful. 

Like a Pilte, something in the back of his head murmurs, and the intonation of it just sounds so much like Silco. He can’t raise his head, can’t look him in the eye, after all that. 

However, rather than chastisement, Viktor is pulled into a gentle hug; one that sways a little, side to side. It’s loose enough that even he could break the hold, should he want to, but the weight of Silco’s arm around his narrow shoulders makes him feel a little more connected to what’s actually going on around him. 

“... hands… ‘nd bare…” The voice, sweet and melodic, filters in gradually over the cacophony trying to drown him, “Friend… the river…”

The tune of the song is familiar, but Viktor didn’t know the lyrics. They filter in, like rain water dripping from cave walls, building up stalagmites and stalactites year after year, like the clarity attempting to slip back into his consciousness. 

“I'll take… can spare, I ask of… a penny,” The song continues, “My fortune… be.”

Silco’s jacket doesn’t smell pungent exactly, but the scents are easy to decipher. There’s the tang of tobacco that itches his lungs whenever he scents it, a hit of sour, some spiced smelling perfume on top to portray good grooming. Despite the small cough the smoke smell causes, Viktor buried his face deeper into the man’s shoulder.

“I ask you without envy, We raise no mighty towers, Our homes are built of stone, So come across the river…”

The missing words get filled in as he comes back up for air. His gasping slowed as Silco ran a hand through his hair, the barest scraping of nails against his scalp. It felt like he was back in his Mamča and Taťka’s arms, for just a moment, despite the alley-stink and too-clean air.

“And find the world below…”

Silco hums for a few moments after, and Viktor finally feels the ground under his feet again. The hug is warm and the hair at the nape of Silco’s neck tickles his nose.

It’s not the first… whatever that was, that Viktor has ever experienced, but it knocks him for six. It’s also the first time that Silco has seen him fly off the handle - at least, with no good reason. 

“I’m… sorry…” He manages to sputter out, hoping that it doesn’t sound so forced as to be insincere, “Už to znovu neudělám.”

The last part comes from pure instinct, a promise to himself as much as Silco. He can tell that it confuses the man when he uses his native tongue, but it feels disingenuous to say it any other way. Even if Silco doesn’t understand the words themselves, then the context is clear.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Silco assures, standing back upright and patting Viktor’s head. The next phrase out of his mouth is a surprise, “My boy.”

-*-*-

He got the brace, because Silco refused to let him roll his ankle around as he shuffled around on his outstep. It had hurt to put on at first, the bones and ligaments protesting as they got forcibly locked into the correct place, but he managed to put his foot down flat and straight for the first time in… He didn’t even know. 

He got the cane, because his shoulder and spine were beginning to warp under the improper posture he’d been forced to adapt. His spine may still cause a problem, Silco and he are advised, but that’s an issue to be tackled in the future.

He gets the clothes for… whatever nebulous reason Silco seems to have. He doesn’t get a full explanation, but he leaves it be because he doesn’t want to push too hard. It makes the buzzing in his skull return, but not to the point it was before. He can control himself while around Silco, and limit the blank stares and fuzzy limbs to his own room. He meant his promise, after all. 

He takes the chocolate bars simply because he’s too weak to say no. After so long without regular meals, he’s abominably hungry all the time, yet he can still only stomach half a portion in a sitting. Little and often, Silco says, but the chocolate just goes down so easy compared to everything else.

They fall into a routine. 

Viktor continues to tinker with scraps he can get, telling Silco (tentatively, in his own head, he corrects it to dad) that he simply enjoys the challenge of having to work with limited materials. He also tends to have a go at fixing anything in the house that breaks down. His success rate isn’t amazing, but it is steadily improving. 

Viktor tears through the maintenance guides on the shelf, collecting dust. Perseverance will get him through this stage and out the other side, moulding into something more useful than a toy maker.

An idea came to mind to sell his boat, so that he could give back at least a drop in the ocean of what Silco has spent on him in the last few months. He’s selfish, however, and the half hour of badgering himself to just grab it and go ends with him hovering over the toilet spewing his guts. He comes to the conclusion that chocolate doesn’t taste remotely as nice the second time, and the boat stays on the shelf.

Meanwhile, Silco attends… meetings. Work. Viktor still doesn’t know what he does, really, but it seems to be somewhat lucrative. All he knows is that it’s frustrating, and still in the process of getting truly started, and Silco often comes home tired and cranky.

Viktor thinks of the other miners that would surround his parents, singing bawdy drinking songs that went a little over his head, but would get told off for repeating. He thinks of women and men leaning into other adults on street corners, faces painted prettily. His eyes would usually get covered as he walked past them, even as his curiosity lingered on the bright colours ringed around their eyes; some matte, some glistening.

Silco’s wounds have closed up, but the skin around the eye remains discoloured and painful. He paints over the near-black with a pressed powder, but comes off looking far more natural.

Even if Viktor doesn’t know what job he has now, he knew that prior to their meeting, Silco worked in the mines like his parents. A different area, he doesn’t recognise their names nor the brief description Viktor provides him. 

One night, Silco is talking about what Viktor wants to do in the future, any career he may be interested in, but Viktor simply answers in such a vague way it could mean anything. He wants to help people, to take away their pain, but beyond that? The notion isn’t defined enough for a concrete answer. 

“Well, what did you want to be when you were little?” Silco asks as he hands him a cup of sweet milk.

“I’d say I’m still rather little,” Viktor smirks, “I can barely reach the back of the countertops.”

“You know what I meant,” Silco chuckles, “I’m simply curious. It doesn’t have to be based in reality. One of my friends wanted to be a wolf when he was five.”

Viktor laughs a little at that. 

He watches, spellbound, as a young man flies through the air without a net. He flips and twirls on the wires, holds himself with such poise and grace that he doesn’t even seem real. He wants to…

“It’s too embarrassing,” Viktor shrugs, shaking his head, “But… I can tell you aren’t… eh, completely happy with your position right now. What did you want to do?”

Silco’s working eye widens a little, but the expression softens almost instantly. 

“I wanted to be a ballerino,” He divulges, “A dancer. There was a studio - a long time ago now - just passed the bridge, and I used to sneak over to watch them practise. Used to try and copy them, too. But one day an enforcer caught me - a little rat from the undercity - staring in at Piltie girls and, well.”

He lifts a little of his hair, revealing a scar. Viktor doesn’t need that explained at all. 

He still doesn’t tell his… dad what his childhood dream was, but he thinks to himself that Silco - long, thin limbs and perfect grace - would’ve made an amazing dancer.

-*-*-

Viktor’s weight fluctuates like a yoyo. Just as he puts on enough that his ribs are only a little visible, some sort of biological process kicks in and he drops it all again. 

He’s not what anyone would call consistent in his eating schedule, either. He got to the point where he could stomach two appropriately sized meals a day, with a very small snack, and that was fine. Then, Silco was being dragged out at all hours of the day for work, leaving him to his own devices.

He didn’t mind, happy to have time to tinker and design and read all the books on his and his father’s shelf over and over, but it may not be the best in terms of remembering his needs.

He’s well aware that, at the very mature age of eleven, he should at least have the basics of a routine down by now. He should know that he needs to be fed, watered and clean. And he does, but he can’t seem to… follow through, he supposes. He gets too engrossed, and that awful sensation comes back to him.

The same one he’d felt that day at the Orthopedics shop, nerves firing off but unable to complete the task demanded of them.

However, after a couple of days with no food, he’ll stuff anything and everything into his mouth like his life depends on it, desperate to get away from the hunger once again. It tends to leave him feeling sicker than sick, but he supposes it evens out in the end.

Actually, with the slackness of his waistcoat, he knows it doesn’t.

At least he doesn’t need to worry about asking Silco for more, yet again, so soon. He’d rather go hungry than do that.

-*-*-

His dad gets given something that looks suspiciously like an injector driver - like what morticians use on corpses - and several vials of a purple, nearly glittering liquid. It’s viscous in the tubes, and something about it seems oh so familiar, yet scarily foreign to him. He doesn’t focus on that, however.

Silco has uncovered his bedroom mirror for the first time since the night after their visit to the tailor shop. At least, judging by the plume of dust motes that were disturbed by the action. He’s trying to work out how best to hold the applicator, usually nimble fingers fumbling, and how to line up the shot with an eye that can’t actually see any more than shadows.

There’s no eyelid to dodge, which makes it easier, but it’s still by no means a simple task.

“I can do it,” Viktor offered, very sincerely.

“You don’t need to, darling boy,” Silco waves off at first, “I should be able to do this myself.”

“When I said that about my brace, you told me that I should ask for help when I need it,” Viktor points out, the picture of childhood innocence despite the fact that he is, technically, manipulating his father into accepting his help.

Because, if not him, young though he is, then who?

Silco acquiesces in the end, and Viktor does it perfectly the first time. His father flinches away with a gasp, every muscle going ridged with pain before slumping over. Viktor nearly runs out the door for help, until a contented sigh slackens his dad’s body further.

Instead, he curls up on the bed with him as Silco has his first pain-free night in a while, and snuggles into his chest.

That little, filthy part of him that seems to get louder every day gnashes its teeth with jealousy. He hasn’t had a completely pain-free day for years. He endures it, though, because even if that’s not something he can have, his father deserves it.

No one deserves pain, after all.

When Silco is in a meeting a couple of days later, he can’t help but take the needle - not a drop of Shimmer in it - and put it against his bad knee. He ticks over the thought, resigns himself to not knowing, and puts it back in the drawer.

-*-*-

Things progress from there. 

Silco is attentive, and Viktor feels like he has a safety net for the first time in a long while. Like he would be able to make a mistake or two and not have to pay dire ramifications for it. He still ensures not to, not wishing to be more trouble than he’s worth, the thought lighting even his half-decent nerves on fire.

He gets included in things a little more, as Silco’s ideas gain some traction and the meetings increase; the ones Silco’s taken to working with merely raise an eyebrow when they see Viktor in the office. He makes himself useful, taking minutes and keeping track of issues raised - categorising them from ‘worth ruminating on’ and ‘has a point’, to ‘idiotic’ and ‘power hungry’.

He acts like he’s always been there, and will always be, and wears the pretty clothes Silco got him. He looks people in the eye, even if he has to look up to do so, and his voice is calm and clear. Silco taught him how to be taken seriously by these people, and it works.

Which means he gets an insight into all of Silco’s devious plans, can map their trajectories and theorise on what he wants to get out of his actions. His father is a strong political manipulator, and he’s slowly but surely introducing Viktor to the trade. 

Viktor doesn’t really know how to feel about that. 

He’s never enjoyed lying, even  if he’s certainly told his fair share to get by. If given the choice between words or violence, Viktor will always choose the former; and not just because of his lack of capabilities in a fight. He’s held these moral convictions tight because that’s just who he is, and never wanted the way the world is to warp him. 

A fragile body, maybe, but an iron core.

Going over the notes with Silco that night, the man running a brush through his hair as he helps Viktor get ready for bed, he decides that it’s worth taking a risk.

“When the groundwork of this venture is completed,” He begins, swallowing as he traces the patterns on his bedsheets, “What then? I understand the need for power to elevate your voice, even the richest Pilties do that, but… Can I know where this all leads?”

“An independent Zaun, I’ve told you before, Poklad,” Silco reiterates as he carefully goes over a tangled patch - Viktor’s hair is getting long.

The endearment stiffles him for a moment, the sheets forgotten as his head snaps up. The pronunciation Silco used is wrong at best, but it’s still recognisable for what it is. 

“What? As if you’re the only one who can read?” Silco teases, placing down the brush and tucking a wayward lock of hair behind Viktor’s ear, “I won’t use it if you don’t want me to.”

The issue is the complicated feelings that arise. It’s nice, but it hurts, and there’s a bitter taste at the back of his tongue from hearing it. But Viktor can’t deny the affection when he sounds so much like his Taťka. 

But Viktor’s father and his Taťka will always be two separate people. 

“We’re off subject,” He sighs, bringing the conversation back to where it needs to be - he’ll think about it more when the timing is better, “An independent Zaun is a goal I want to help you with. A Zaun with clean air and fresh water, where children won’t have to breathe toxic fumes… But what you say is vague. I’ve learnt not to take that at face value.”

Not after Rio.

“Smart boy,” Silco praises, squeezing his shoulder before the bed shifts, the mattress retaining its shape as Silco stands, “I’ll be honest, I’ve been going backwards and forwards on exactly how I want to achieve it.”

That takes Viktor’s attention. Silco has always seemed the sort to plan these things in extreme detail, think a thousand steps ahead, so the admission is surprising. 

“I used to know, but…” Silco heaved a heavy sigh as he dropped Viktor’s night shirt on the bed, still folded from its place in his drawer, “It has been… a year, and three weeks, since it was all clear.”

“So, it has something to do with…” Viktor makes a vague, abortive gesture towards his own eye as he’s helped out of the waistcoat. Silco hates talking about it, but everything adds up to his eye being linked to the answer; the time frame is too perfect.

“The worst day of my life,” Silco sighs out. His fingers twitch in the same way they do when he craves a smoke. He doesn’t pull out a cigar, though, careful of the rattle they’ve both noticed in Viktor’s lungs.

Instead, he pulls Viktor onto his lap, making sure to take care not to jostle his bum leg or curving spine. Viktor simply lays his head on his father’s shoulder, closing his eyes as his small body gets a little warmer. 

He’s been cold a lot lately.

“Would you like me to show you?”

Viktor nods a yes.

-*-*-

Silco took him to the water’s edge, but neither got in. Viktor can’t, after all. Too deep and the current would effortlessly sweep his leg from under him, metal dragging him to the bed.

Silco does swim in it from time to time, the efforts to clean it up going surprisingly well for something organised under Piltie notice. His father comes back a little distant each time, something pulling at the corners of his mouth as he holds Viktor close, but they’d never talked about it.

Until now.

“So, that man tries to drown you, tries to cut out your eye, and he is still the hero of The Lanes - while you have to rebuild it all from scratch,” Is his takeaway, once that part of the story is over, voice disbelieving and nails cutting into his palms, “Unbelievable.”

Silco makes a vague, somewhat fey gesture as he continues to stare out. “It’s not as cut and dry as you’re thinking,” Silco corrects, “Shades of grey, not just black and white, my boy. I think, if he were to come to me… I may forgive him still, no matter what transpired that night.”

‘Like a beaten wife…’ Says a voice on the wind, which sounds more and more like him every day. It twists his insides around, but he doesn’t say a word about his thoughts on Silco’s surprising willingness to forgive.

“Brothers in arms,” He echoes, a mocking lilt to it, “You’ll bend over backwards for him, won’t you?”

Silco hums, smiles a little, and pats Viktor on the head. 

“‘Brothers in arms’ encapsulates many things,” Silco explains, and Viktor readies himself for another monologue, “Brothers, friends, lovers… It all mixes together. People with everything and nothing to lose grasp onto each other so tightly.”

Viktor doesn’t even want to think about the “lovers” comment, considering how it all ended. It hurts too much, wanting to reach out and - for a moment - switch their roles. To be able to protect his father from that man, like he’s protected him. 

Viktor decides that Vander is not to be trusted. He may hate him.

He definitely hates him.

“You don’t believe me?” Silco prods, and Viktor thinks it over for a moment before responding honestly - with a shake of his head.

A bone weary sigh, as if Viktor should just immediately understand wishing for someone who hurt him so badly that it eroded his dream from the inside out, and Silco hugs him to his side.

“Come on,” He bids, “There’s another place I’d like to take you.”

-*-*-

The walk down the mining shaft had been a perilous and, frankly, exhausting journey - at least for Viktor. He’d never been taken into the mines by his parents, unlike other children in the community, for… frankly obvious reasons. He knew what it must look like, a hole in the natural rock carved out cleanly and efficiently where possible. 

It set something inside of him on edge. 

Still, he’d persevered with minimal prompting on Silco’s part. The floor, despite being laid with cart tracks, was surprisingly even. The walls glowed with clusters of bioluminescent mushrooms, reacting to their footsteps, the soft thunking of his cane, and Silco’s loud claps as they ventured further down. 

There wasn’t much conversation, however. 

Viktor couldn’t help but think of the river, of Silco’s surprising willingness to forgive, of Vander. It swirled around, twisting his stomach and burning a familiar line from his gut to mouth. But he held it in. 

Vomit and opinions.

Silco just seemed… conflicted. Whenever Viktor’s eyes flicked to his father, there was another emotion across his face. He didn’t like it, wanted to yank Silco back and take him home - make tea just the way Silco likes and read together in bed. 

Viktor reads chemical engineering text books like other children read fairy tales, transfixed by what human beings can bring to life with just their hands and a little ingenuity. Silco teases him for it, something thick and long-winded in his hands, all flowery prose and poignancy that sticks to skin and between the ribs. Occasionally, they swap passages that dart along the spectrum of human endeavour, and most of the time, Viktor will fall asleep first, the taste of sweet milk on his tongue.

But he doesn’t, because something in Silco needs to show him this - to put his trust in Viktor. Like his Shimmer injections, his notetaking. 

Murmurs about how the only person Silco trusts is a twelve year old boy, who’s “supposedly” his son. They’re meant to be disparaging remarks, but all Viktor could ever focus on was the warmth in his chest.

Because he’s useful, and Silco trusts him, and he’s slowly but surely erasing any burden he ever placed on the man. Viktor refuses to be useless, purely ornamental.

Eventually, they reach it; the shack. It’s ramshackle and kind of ugly, the wood stain uneven and boards warped from over a year of abandonment. Inside, a fine layer of dust covers… everything, really, and those same mushrooms from the shafts are beginning to bud in the corners. 

There’s not much left on the shelves, but enough to paint a picture. A few aging, yellowed books sitting on the bookcase, a couple of knick-knacks strewn about. A torn flag hangs on one of the larger walls, still proud despite the grime discolouring the fabric. The furniture was lackluster but not particularly poor quality; a table and two chairs, the aforementioned bookcase, a log burner with a single pot left to rust. There’s a thrown together bed that seems closer to a pile of blankets and pillows than anything with a frame, but it looks cosy. 

Silco stands frozen at the threshold, Viktor takes the first few steps in. 

He doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to be looking at, but he takes his time to survey the room, anyway. Picks up one of the tomes on the table, expecting another one of Silco’s sweet-sad novels, but the cover simply has “Manifesto of the Nation of Zaun” crudely embossed in the leather.

He opens it to pages upon pages of his father’s frantic writings, the ink smudged in a couple of places from hands rushing over the paper before it had been allowed to dry. So many ideas, with grounded footing and good intentions, which are simply different from how Silco is working now. He looks at the spine to see that it’s actually the third volume of such writings and essays. He places it back on the table.

He continues his circles around the cabin, cane against floor almost unbearably loud in the silence, eyes snapping back to Silco in search of… something. Approval, maybe? A hint as to what he was supposed to get out of this exercise?

He locks eyes with a photograph on the wall, staring at Silco - pre-Worst Day Of His Life. Long, dark hair tied back, a grin that crinkles his eyes as he holds up a stick of dynamite, someone big and broad barely in frame as he seems to have jumped away from Silco. Obviously what has his father so amused.

Overreaction. Even Viktor can tell the fuse wasn’t lit, despite the graininess of the picture.

Silco finally takes some steps inside, eyes trained on a pair of coats hanging on the wall, one nestled in the other.

Viktor plucks some fungus from the wall, places the few buds in his pocket while Silco’s distracted. An interesting specimen was an interesting specimen, after all. 

“I didn’t leave them like this…” Silco mutters, seemingly to himself, as his fingers stroke along the sleeve of the larger jacket. He brings it to his face, smothering his nose and mouth, and inhales deep and slow. His eyelashes flutter a little.

Viktor can’t help but grimace at the reverence on Silco’s face, making a noise that’s a little too disgusted to be tactful. He looks away, which is when he notices something on the table, next to the whiskey glass that seems deceptively clean - compared to the rest of it.

Picking it up, Silco’s name greets him, and there’s that sinking stone in his stomach.

He could shove it in his pocket to dispose of later, not let Silco’s emotions run away from him and lead him right back to the man who betrayed his trust. Because Silco seems to hold this man in some kind of esteem that Vander has proved he doesn’t deserve. He’ll give him another chance out of sentiment, and what happens then? What if the brute can’t keep his hands to himself after crossing that line.

“Like a beaten wife. Your father is acting like a beaten wife, and you’ll just stand by?”

That voice, again, but Viktor’s been blocking it out for months, no matter how loud it’s been getting. He’s not standing by, he’s being honest and giving Silco the choice. Like an adult. Like how Viktor wants to be treated.

“You…” Viktor’s voice cracks, easy enough to play off with the amount of dust he’s currently breathing in. He coughs into his fist a little and continues on, “You have a letter.”

Silco reads it aloud, takes in the words on the page. Viktor bites his lip. Objectively, the apology is… really shit. It doesn’t explain the hows or whys in nearly enough depth to be sympathetic, and while he accepts culpability, there’s one phrase that makes the saliva in Viktor’s mouth sour:

“... I told myself what I did to you was for the greater good…”

Maybe, this is one of those occasions where his age plays a factor in his understanding. He’s both innocent and jaded, he’s come to realise over the past year of living with Silco, and that causes misinterpretations.

However, if someone had attacked him with as much violence as Vander had Silco, and that person said any version of “I thought you deserved it” to him… He would spit in their eye. Metaphorically and literally. 

Silco looks towards the door, something in his expression that reminds Viktor of the damsel rushing to the hero, and the juxtaposition between that and the reality of the situation makes him ill. He’s pretty sure the recurring chant of “don’t go, don’t do it, don’t get hurt again” is painted across his face.

Silco stands abruptly, body seeming to flinch as he takes an abortive step, changing his mind halfway through. He swallows hard.

Then his gaze turns back to Viktor.

Viktor takes a few wobbling, shuffled steps towards his father, hand reaching out and laying on Silco’s forearm. He doesn’t want to say anything, to demand an action - or lack thereof - from Silco. He wants his father to make the right choice himself.

Viktor’s eyes still scream “don’t go to him”, along with the downturn of his lips, despite doing his best to school them.

Silco pulls him into a tight, tight hug, and Viktor can finally breathe again.

-*-*-

Silco doesn’t go to Vander that night, but like always, things progress. 

The narrative pushes forwards.

-*-*-

A/N: So, we’ve had a bit of a backstory chapter to set up some important things, and we will be getting back to JayVik next chapter! I just have a huge soft spot for Silco Adopts Viktor AUs, because I think it’s an interesting dynamic, especially with Silco’s loving-but-somewhat-unhealthy parenting style. 

Viktor’s also starting to show major signs of his codependency and self worth issues, so their relationship is… odd. There’s an undercurrent there, y’know? They do 100% see each other as father and son, that’s not up for debate, but there are probably rumours surrounding their relationship.

In terms of Zaun Dads, that will be explored in due time - Silco’s not wrong when he says it’s a morally grey situation, but Viktor hates the idea of them reconciling after what he’s been told. It’s his POV, so it’s going to sound pretty bad.

I’ll also explain the Shimmer issue later - with Rio having a different death and all. There is a plan! I just didn’t think it fit here.

Finally: If I were to write a one shot about baby Silco sneaking across the river to watch ballet lessons, and getting caught by an enforcer, would anyone be interested? Please let me know :)

[noturlondonboy]

No More Excuses//Katelena

Chapter 12: Haunted and Preyed Upon

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Chapter Summary: Yelena waits until Kate is asleep to go on a man hunt- literally.

A/N: hey y’all anyone else obsessed with Yelena using her assassin skills cuz me too

Chapter Warnings: violence, blood, weapons, Yelena being a Black Widow Assassin

Yelena bit back a yawn and leaned her head against the couch, eyes heavy on the sleeping form of Kate Bishop yet again. The other woman had nodded off just half an hour ago, her hand clasped with Yelena's tightly, fingers threaded together. A cramp had been building in Yelena's neck for the past ten minutes, but she didn't have the heart to move and risk waking her friend. Lucky lay beside her on the floor with his head in her lap, his legs twitching with dreams and soft puppy snuffles floating from his nose. She petted him softly, playing with his velvety ears and humming under her breath.

"Bye, bye, Miss American Pie," she sang quietly, throat raw from her lack of sleep. Yelena knew her body was beyond exhausted, but she could not find it in her to rest.

Not with that man still walking free.

Yelena sighed and rubbed away the crick in her neck slowly, shuffling to her feet and bending down to slip her hands under Kate's back. She took a moment to brace herself before scooping Kate up into her chest with her arms under the woman's shoulders and knees, bridal carrying her carefully up the stairs and into her loft bedroom. The archer grumbled quietly and nuzzled into Yelena's neck, the brush of her lips hot on the skin of her collarbones. The assassin's breath caught in her throat, and she faltered for a moment on the steps, her feet unevenly placed. Fire licked down her spine, up her neck to her cheeks, over her ears.

Fuck.

Yelena sucked in a deep lungful of air and made the rest of the way up the stairs, gingerly setting Kate down onto her own bed. The archer snuggled down into her pillows right away, her limbs sprawling out to take up as much blanket space as she could. A smile tipped itself over into the curve of Yelena's mouth, and somewhere in her gut, as she watched Kate Bishop get comfortable in her sleep, as she realized that she would do anything for her, anything in or beyond reason, she knew she was in deep shit.

--------

Yelena blew hot air into her hands and rubbed them together before sprinting across the rooftops of New York City, the dark, supple leather of her stealth suit silencing her footfalls as she stalked her prey. It had been almost physically painful to leave Kate back in her apartment for the second night in a row- granted, it hadn't hurt the first time, not like this. She had stayed away to spend time with her dog and let herself breathe, but this time around, she was out for blood.

And yet, and yet, and yet...

Yelena only wanted to go back to Kate.

She knew she would not touch her. She would not try to press close to her in her bed, to snuggle up with her and Lucky, to claim any semblance of that comfort for herself. She would not demand anything; she would not be selfish. Not with this. Not with Kate.

She would take care of business, and when she got back, if there was still time, she would crash back onto that ridiculously lumpy and still oh-so comfortable couch and sleep for a million years if the nightmares relented.

And then- and then...

Yelena didn't know.

Once again, not knowing was terrifying. But the prospect of Kate Bishop being there to guide her through it lessened the blow. If Kate wanted her. If Kate even let her stay. They had technically gone for drinks now; Yelena had no reason to keep bumming around. She needed a reason.

And maybe she had one.

Maybe Yelena needed Kate.

And what if Kate needed Yelena, too?

A groan broke the silence of the night, and Yelena dropped down to press herself to the cold rooftop, inching forward to peer over the lip into the alleyway below. Connor had only managed to drag himself a dozen blocks away from where he had tried to assault the two women less than two hours ago, and the sight of him struggling to limp along sent a sadistic thrill running down Yelena's spine.

She only truly enjoyed her profession outside of the chemically subjugated mind control when she was 100% sure her victim absolutely deserved to suffer.

And this man deserved to suffer.

She watched him for a moment to ensure that he had stopped to rest, taking in the pacing of his uneven breaths before shimmying down the building and dropping in front of him with hardly a sound. Her knives flew with deadly accuracy, and he was pinned down by the weapons piercing through his clothes before he could make a noise.

Yelena slammed him back into the wall with a hand pressed tightly around his throat, blood roaring in her head. "Thought you had seen the last of me, didn't you?" she seethed, eyes aglow with murderous intent. He choked and clawed at her arms, but she didn't budge an inch.

"Enjoy your last moments," Yelena hissed, a feral grin spreading over her mouth. She knew she looked insane, probably downright demonic, but the terror dripping from Connor only fueled her further, and she bathed in it. Without warning, she pulled the knives from his clothes and jumped back. "Run."

Connor scrambled to his feet and took off, his broken ankle wobbling at a disturbing angle. Yelena watched him go for a moment before whipping out her batons and following behind him at a leisurely pace, laughing loudly enough for him to hear her and therefore piss himself.

Enjoy your last moments, because I sure as hell will.

When Yelena caught him again, Connor began to scream, and she let his voice ring through the streets.

Translations: none

Kate Bishop counter: 3

This chapter's meme(s):

Comments/reblogs/notes make my day :)

[julialus]

connected by a single chain Sauron × reader

Sauron × fem! Elf! witch! reader, Annatar × reader, Hallbrand × reader

If suddenly you are tired of reading works about evil reader (I have nothing against it), then here is my work with a suffering reader (?), if you can call it that. Perhaps the hero is a reader who is drawn to darkness.

Plot: is it scary to be tied to his will? Or maybe it's still nice.

Warning: mind control, infliction of physical and moral pain, restriction of freedom, triggers of relationships with parents.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Rings of Power or his characters, and I do not claim that they are my own.

If you liked the work, please let me know!

Ilyaris is the union of two souls, when the Master of the will binds himself with the will of the obeying one, from which any word of the Master is the law for the obeying one. (The term, coined by me personally, is not a canon for Tolkien)

------

You're standing in a dark room, your hands are chained to the wall. You didn't have the strength to sit on the semblance of a bed, and you decided to get up. You have been here for several weeks now, in his captivity. You've already lost count of how many days have passed. Sauron is standing in front of you. He walked around you and got up from behind.

"You must obey me, my will," he said, his eyes filled with confidence. It seemed like forever since he captured you.

He put his hands on your shoulders. A shudder went through your body.

He ran his hands over your arms and then moved to your waist. You arched your back, feeling his breath on your neck. He touched his lips to your neck, gently running his tongue.

"Either voluntarily, or I will break you. But I'll get you."

Pain squeezed your head, you screamed and leaned forward, but he didn't let you do it.

Standing in front of you, he continued to look at you.

He put his hand under your chin and lifted it so that you looked into his eyes. The pain in my head stopped. He reached out to kiss you. His lips pressed against yours, but you didn't intend to kiss him and bit his lower lip. Sauron recoiled and ran his finger over his bloody lip.

"And you're brave, honey."

He squeezed his hands on your neck and you began to choke, instinctively raising your hands to your neck.

"Honestly, I'm tired of waiting. How does such a young girl have such a strong will?" You let out a whimper.

The pain spread to your head and then to your neck and you collapsed into his soft embrace.

And here you are, still here, but already on the bed. Waiting for him to torture you again so that you obey him. And she entered Ilyaris with him. But what choice do you have, he needs your power, it will help him heal Middle-earth.

Now he started to go back to your memories, inflicting physical pain was not enough for him.

And here you are sitting in front of Mom, her kind eyes are looking at you and she is smiling.

"You know he's going to survive because of you," she whispered.

"Who?" you asked.

A lot of strangers appeared behind her, saying something unclear.

"Dark Lord, you have to help him," someone said. And everyone repeated "help, he won't hurt you"

"Sauron will live, thanks to you" Dad came out from behind your mom's back "We died for this so that your talent would wake up"

Everything around you began to tremble, goosebumps and trembling went through your body. Your head was squeezed, you tried to stand up, but you couldn't.

"Sauron will survive because of you "

"Nooo!!!" You screamed, your body jerked and everything disappeared. Now you are standing on the edge of a cliff, in front of you is the most beautiful landscape, birds are singing around.

"That's how it can be" he stands next to me, his blond hair swaying in the wind.

"Agree it's beautiful" he smiled, all the while he was looking at you "Let me be with you" he touched your hand.

You nod in agreement. He broke you, you couldn't resist anymore. You felt the metal on your hand. Shackles. It brought you back to reality, to a dark room.

And here you are sitting on a chair, tied to it, and Sauron is standing in front of you.

He takes your left hand and runs the dagger along it. You cry out in pain. Your body is numb from all that pain, torture, you can't do anything. A trickle of scarlet blood has flowed out of his palm, he cuts his own and black blood flows from there. Your hands lock and he starts saying something in the black dialect. You don't understand anything.

Now you are bound, his word is law. An invisible collar has formed on your neck, he will pull and you will fulfill his every wish. Your spirit is his spirit. He kissed your hand and said.

"Over time, you will love me and you won't even be able to breathe without me."

It's been a few weeks since that moment, it seems you've started to get used to his will in your head. He could talk without acting. It seems he really felt the feelings.

But he didn't have time to fully enjoy his power. Adar killed him, and you ran away.

------------------------

You woke up in a heavy sweat. It's okay, it's just a nightmare from the past. Many centuries have passed since those days, without him in your head. Ilyaris without a Master was torn apart and you were freed. I went to study my magic, my abilities. You've changed your appearance. The scar on your arm is almost healed, but no matter how hard you try, you can't remove it.

Now you live in Eregion, helping the elves and Lord Celebrimbor with your magic and gathering, and no one knows about your past. They don't need to know about someone who will never come back. Or, as you hoped, he won't come back.

Lady Galadriel thought otherwise, since almost two months ago she had gone to rest. After the High King deemed that her quest for Sauron was now over.

You rubbed your eyes and looked out the window. The sun comes out from behind the horizon a little bit.

When you got dressed, there was a knock on the door. It was Mirdania.

"Your help is needed in the infirmary," you looked at her questioningly and followed her.

When you entered the infirmary, you saw a man with short brown hair lying on the bed, moaning softly. Galadriel was standing next to him. When she heard footsteps, she turned around.

"Y/N," she said, smiling.

"What happened? you asked, going to the washbasin to wash your hands.

"An enemy spear, six days ago. We rode without rest," she said and went out with Elrond.

You asked the healers to come out so that no one would bother you.

The man opened his eyes slightly.

"What's your name?" You asked.

"Hallbrand" he tried to get up.

"You'd better lie down." You ran a cold cloth over his forehead. "Healers are all models, I can only relieve the pain and put you to sleep." You understand the hands and begin your magic. The man falls asleep, and you go on to talk to Galadriel.

---------------------

If you liked it, be sure to unsubscribe and I will write a sequel!!

P.s. connected by a single chain. This is a translation of one song in Russian. I advise you to audition. — Связанные одной цепью.

[wisteria-html]

In other news: my friend and I were at work discussing which characters we see the other as. I compared her to Richie Tozier and nailed it, and then we talked about mental health and how we perceive ourselves. Tell me why I get home, get ready for bed, and she sends me this:

Actually, now that I think about it, you kind of remind me of Jayce Talis

I'll have to look into it more before I make that my pick for you but

The struggle to balance yourself between things that excite you and the desire to be a good person

The fear that your accomplishments/qualities are only tricking others into liking you, and they'll never be as devoted as you are to them

Jayce is heavily influenced by the past but constantly worried that he's not processing those lessons in a healthy way, and so despite his powerful convictions and confidence he is susceptible to others trying to blunt him

He doesn't think he's a good person because he thinks compassion is just the best way forward, the way through external problems, rather than something that takes actual strength to maintain and therefore doesn't give himself enough credit

And everyone around him is literally obsessed with him because they know just how selfless and valiant he is, even if his obsessions can lead his usual empathy to get hyper focused on individual people or situations

And so sometimes people get mad or hurt because they assume they're being ignored or not prioritized, rather than simply trying to understand this is who he is

And these feelings can coalesce into accusations of toxicity towards jayce, because these people have put him on a pedestal, and now that they're not feeling the love they assume it's intentional from someone so otherwise seemingly perfect

The people who truly understand Jayce are those who are able to separate the person from the moment

Jayce - you - are obsessed with whether you're doing the right or proper thing in a moral sense, but despite that, you don't think that makes you a good person - even though that's literally the main qualifier. The reason for this is because you strongly feel that you are simply not allowed to be selfish; therefore, doing good and being caring doesn't feel like a choice to you, ergo you don't take pride in it and don't reward yourself for it. It feels.. dare I say it.. like a neutral mode

And I personally think, learning to be a bit selfish would be really helpful for you, because it would help demystify this and remove anxiety over the deep-seated fear that one slip-up and you'll descend into toxicity and pain-causing. The problem is that you're such a good person, that in the few instances where someone did accuse you of being toxic, you empathize with them enough to believe they had at least some semblance of a point and so put the onus of the blame on yourself instead. "This is what happens when I'm not careful enough," you internalized. "I made a mistake", rather than simply accept that other people can be flawed pieces of crap whose problems with you are just reflections of problems with themselves

I think you need to have real, visceral experience that being a little selfish is not the enemy, and it won't consume you if you indulge in it. In fact, it might help you gain confidence in what you are and what you put out into the world.

So where is I need to remember that my kingdom is secure, even if it doesn't feel like that

I think you need to remember that the world outside your kingdom will love you no matter what you choose to do with your realm

I think that's why you strive for such an intensely connected romantic relationship, by the way. Because if you're going to let someone in that close, they have to be someone truly in love with you, someone utterly amazing in your eyes, otherwise you'll have to spend time together worrying about whether you're being a good person, whether they'll see through this imagined facade of yours. In another odd inversion of me, I seek people who can ground me and help me feel things, and I think you seek a person who can help you ascend past the grounded fears within you

I need to learn to trust the world around me. I think you should learn to trust yourself.

[cosmama]

❛ i wish there were a way to tell the story where the end didn’t arrive so soon. ❜

tfw ur alien, primordial mom(?) says 'stop fking crying and go end the world binch'. // ੈ✩‧ ₊˚

the 'mother' watches over the 'son' : choosing to do nothing but listen as he weeps quietly before her. the boy laid sprawled on the floor across from her barely tangible form: eyes bloodshot from crying, hair frazzled from distress, and his clothes utterly disheveled. nyx, however, continues to be unflinching in her indifference, not moving to soothe or scold him - even as her own pale cheeks are stained with empty tears in response to his own. the two entities shared an inherent bond and so thanatos' pain became her own - even if she couldn't ( or more so, did not want to ) understand what grieved him so now.

death, her eldest and most faithful 'child', was now wrapped in the gentle, unassuming guise of a human; his beating heart overflowing with emotions that did not become one of his station.

all she can manage to muster is a tired sigh before she gracefully floats towards him, her voice completely filling the room while she does so. ' what makes humanity different from any life we have taken before? ' her spirit is increasingly strained by the energy needed to even sustain some semblance of a form here - emphasized by how her body fades in and out when she moves. there's no judgement towards him within her words ( at least not yet. ). nyx is simply matter of fact about the situation in front of them. death was a natural part of life and nothing in this universe could run from it no matter how hard they wished to do so.

' or...' she continues, ' do you think they are deserving of an exception simply because of the bonds you have forged with them? ' the question strikes a visible nerve, the 'son's' head whipping up to look at her in sheer anguish.

the 'mother' just blinks down at him blankly as the momentary dread of the dark hour begins to come to its close. slowly, she lowers herself to his level and gathers enough of her strength to tangibly place a hand on one of his shoulders; the closest thing to comfort she is able to give him. unfortunately, nyx's soft, sleepy voice does not match the horror of the words she says next: ❛ their fates have been sealed. ❜ her words are final. the judge's gavel has been struck. the invisible hour fades and so does she, leaving him alone to wallow in his pain until night falls upon him once again.

rare moment of me rambling a bit ooc in an ask: i wrote her intentionally somewhat mean here; it hurt me; i'm sorry fictional character ryoji. i was thinking, what would you feel if you're this primordial being that's been torn apart and have a chance to be 'whole' again? would you not want it? i do find the stuff around nyx and death kind of *vague handwaving* but conceptually very interesting. the line between who/what they are seems blurry in canon; whether it's because 'ryoji, the human' wants to dissociate himself from 'death, the concept', i don't know ( and i guess the other question is: does it really matter? the end result is the same. )

i don't think that whatever relationship nyx and death have is a traditional (lol) mother / son relationship at all. he was born from her essence and that's that. with that said, you would think a part of death would want its 'mother' to be whole again - which is what the fall is? but all we get is ryoji's despair. he suffers at what will be done to his new friends but is still forced(?) to obey whatever call that makes him into what we fight at the end of the game. i find that all interesting. ( i also think if you play into the princess serenity vibes, nyx being curious about other cultures / species but it being her downfall would be interesting / add layers. but just. a thought. )

anyway, people have probably been exploring these questions in the fandom for years but i'm new here so!!

[jellycreamjammedart]

Lost and Found (Super)Stars

PT. 5 (index/parts) (Tag: desktop/mobile)

read on AO3 (registered users only)

FNAF Security Breach Ruin, post-"betrayal" elevator ending

hurt/comfort, Found Family, something I like to call "Hopeful Horror"

Summary: Having had her kindness stomped on then spat back at her, betrayed by who she thought was her friend, and now stuck at the ruined remains of Freddy Fazbear's Mega PizzaPlex, Cassie tries to find the slightest bit of meaning and worth in all of this.

Fazerblast is quiet save for its distant music theme still playing in spite of all the destruction-- it hurts to hear, in a way; Cassie remembers how it used to be, a beloved childhood memory, like Roxy's place. She can see the shreds of semblance of them, buried under the horrors of change.

She quietly tiptoes over a broken, fallen Fazerblaster maze wall, a chill in her stomach as she remembers how this place's sentinel basically violently sent that same piece down off his way. Trying to keep herself from breathing too loudly or too panicky, she looks into the arguably small section of the attraction she was in, seeing the deactivated AR Inhibitor that had been used on her before, but no signal of the beast. He probably wandered off after he could no longer follow her into the vents. Hopefully somewhere she wouldn't need to cross.

Cassie frowns upon coming to a dead-end on the small section she was in; originally she could get into it while running from him, but getting out of it was another thing. "Helpi, can't you make one of those AR doors here?" She asks just barely above a whisper referring to the AR portals, afraid of alerting lingering presences.

"Unfortunately, no. The environment in the real world isn't favorable to craft them in the AR world. You'll have to figure out a way yourself, and rely on the already existing portals." The little bear broke the news for her. It seems he's limited to what's already in the AR world most of the time.

Cassie lets out a shuddering breath, not fancying being stuck in such a small area. She's not even actually claustrophobic! Still not fun, though. "What do I do..." She thinks out loud in a mutter, looking up at the makeshift pathway she had previously used to climb down into here, now too up high to reach from the other way around.

Wait-

She remembers something and goes the other way again; At some point to reach the Inhibitor, she had to climb two wooden crates with a piece of metal rail gate partly as a ramp-- likely originally meant to secure the catwalks above so that people didn't just fall off there, obviously. Maybe she can use it as a ramp to reach over the wall, too.

While not unfathomably heavy, it's still difficulty for a small (and injured,) child to simply carry it. Cassie manages to tug the rail gate off the two crates causing it to land fully on the floor with a loud metallic sound, causing Cassie to flinch while sucking in a breath, and being stock still for a bit, as if in fear of some immediate consequence for causing such noise. Fortunately, though, it appears nothing spurred up from that. Cautiously letting herself breathe again, she tries to lift the rail gate off the floor, but it's too heavy for her to carry it clean off, and she feels the dull pain in her shoulder verging into returning from her efforts, along herself drifting close to getting dizzy too. No, that won't do. With no other choice, she simply holds onto one end of the rail gate and begins to drag it over the floor with her stumbling backwards while looking over her shoulder to see where she was going, the metallic piece scraping over the floor; it's a bit noisy but not as badly as when it fell and hit the floor. She grits her teeth behind her lips hearing all the scraping, but knew that with her limitations that was the best way she could do this.

She drags the rail gate over to under the edge of the upper pathway, walks over to try lifting it from the other end and tries to topple it against the wall of rubble and attraction parts that piled up; if she does it right, it could work as an improvised ladder. It's easier than the locker from before, though the rail gate's length still puts it a bit under the upper edge, but Cassie probably could reach it from there with a bit of work.

Once she's gotten the rail gate in place, she begins to climb it up, the bars of it working much like ladder steps indeed. Once she climbs up to the top of the rail gate, it's a bit of an awkward place, but keeping her footing, she tries reaching out to the edge of the upper pathway with her hands, hoping to hoist herself up onto it.

Unfortunately, it's not a stable set-up; Cassie's weight causes the other end of the rail gate to slide back a little, eventually until it could no longer remain propped up on the wall, causing itself not only to land flat back down on the floor, but causing her to fall off onto it as well with a yelp before she could grip to the upper edge she was trying so hard to reach. She and the rail gate landing back on the floor below is loud and nasty, with Cassie taking a moment to even register that she was back at square one on the floor-- not to mention the landing hurt.

"Hey, are you alright?" She heard Helpi's worried voice, to which she could only nod breathlessly in response. A little stunned, she tries to slowly lift herself back up, getting first on her hands and knees. Okay, okay. It's okay, she still has the rail gate, she just has to try again, maybe use a S.T.A.F.F. Bot torso or something to keep it from slipping off this time. Or maybe she can try scaling up somewhere to get over to the other side.

But she doesn't even get to try getting up.

Before Cassie knows it, one of the former maze's walls around her gets slammed off like it was made of popsicle sticks, hitting the other far wall and crumbling to pieces basically inches away from hitting her causing her to gasp; She could feel the wind of it whisk past her as it cut through the air and the tiny particles and grains of concrete and whatnot bump into her from the impact against the other wall. To her misfortune, the wall crumbled and its pieces fell over half of the rail gate, essentially pinning it to the floor.

Cassie looks up in shock, feeling her stomach sink upon seeing who stomped in from the freshly-made pathway, that being no other than the headless Glamrock Freddy that had chased her relentlessly before. It seems all the noise she's caused finally caught up to her.

"No..." She whimpers to herself as the beheaded bear has his body turn her direction, the jagged lids of his stomach hatch open out into a thundering, mechanical roar of blind hostility. Even without M.X.E.S' distress signals, it seems he still has sensors to detect her. Cassie bites back a cry as she scrambles up to her feet and tries to run, promptly hearing the heavy stomps of the robot hot on her heels just like before.

Unfortunately, it's a very small closed off area they were in, with little to no room for maneuvering. Cassie finds herself quickly running into the same dead-end she'd been trying to overcome until now, pushing her back against the wall of attraction pieces and rubble that formed the upper pathway right up above, upon seeing the headless Freddy right there. Before she could try maneuvering to either side, he slammed both his sharp hands against the wall behind her by the sides of her head with terrifying force, digging his very sharp endoskeleton claws and fingers into the concrete, as if to trap her in place between himself and the wall. His inner mechanisms let out a vicious screech as his jagged stomach hatch lids opened and quivered aggressively, less than an inch away from touching her and forcing her to see very well into the metallic nightmare that was inside his cavity, a lot of sharp pieces of debris and metal rods pierced into it.

Cassie couldn't keep herself from letting out a cry and scamper to duck under one of his arms before his stomach hatch could potentially chomp down on her, slipping away and off past him, prompting him to rip his hands off the wall to resume chase, which causes to pile of rubble and props to shake a bit from the sheer viciousness of his movements.

At least she had somewhere to go now, running through the freshly-made pathway the bear himself had made, letting her into the larger portion of the ruined space-themed maze. That hardly meant less danger, however.

"The mask! Put on the mask!" Helpi's frightened voice reminds Cassie, as she had been too scared to immediately think of that. Right! The mask basically makes them invisible to each other! She quickly slips the mask down over her face hoping to fall off the beheaded animatronic's radar.

To her absolute horror, even in the AR world, she can still hear the heavy aggressive stomps behind her even if a little slower. She looks back over her shoulder in shock, seeing the nightmarish glamrock still giving chase, but at a bit of a slower pace, as if the mask was now only giving his sensors a delay. This change appears to also shock Helpi and even M.X.E.S, who now was visible, and could only gesture a shooing motion to Cassie with an alarmed expression, urging her to just keep running, before the headless bear's form obliviously phases through it, causing its cybernetic body to ripple into blue digital squares.

It seems they've underestimated the damaged bear.

"Oh no! It seems the M.X.E.S security system's integration into the V.A.N.N.I system has altered how the network functions in some aspects!" Helpi croaks out. Or maybe it could have been that thing down in the sinkhole pulling the strings to make sure Cassie wouldn't end up killed while it still needed her alive. "Just keep running!" Helpi urges. "If you reach the nearest existing AR portal, it should take you straight to the parent node!"

No need to tell her twice to keep running, with Cassie hearing her chaser still locked onto her even if a little slower-- it gives her a bit more breathing room, but she definitely should not stop, at the risk of getting caught.

She eventually runs into the area she had originally met him, over that pile of destroyed S.T.A.F.F Bots and under rubble. She has the slightly risky idea of weaving around the pile, trying to make him trip over it to give herself more distance. And yes, he can detect her and tries to beeline after her, tripping a little over the pile he was previously stuck in, but it's not as effective as she had envisioned it to be, the beheaded bear more so kicking and shoving the top parts of the rubble off the pile. However, a little ways down she can see the AR portal just ahead of her and she basically dives through it.

If Cassie had eaten recently, she would surely have puked, with being so under the weather now and these portals already being rather nauseous to cross over. But at least she was farther away from the once lovable Glamrock Freddy; she could hear it pacing around in the distance, but his stomps are farther away and at a more 'leisure' pace as he appears to have lost track of her once she went through the AR portal, now more so wandering in search.

Either way, the shortcut took her straight to the parent node, and a realization hits her as she sees the four pieces that formed the node scattered on the floor in the AR world. "How am I supposed to reactivate the node? It's split in pieces!" She asks out loud in distress.

Fortunately, M.X.E.S has come to her aid! The digital rabbit manifests itself next to her, its ears perked slightly as it looked down at the four pieces of the deactivated node, as if examining through each of them.

"Each parent node has a core!" Helpi explains. "When you deactivate a parent node, you're deactivating its core, and it remains within one of the node parts. However, it seems only the M.X.E.S security system can determine which part has the core." And as on cue, M.X.E.S reaches its hand down to touch one of the four node pieces, the contact causing white circuitry lines to appear on the piece much like the patterns on its body. "That one! Use your Faz-Wrench on it!" Helpi instructs. And of course, Cassie does as mentored, pulling out the Faz-tech tool and using it to trigger the node.

In her AR vision, the AR Network control panel pops up with the hologram-linking process, which she has done several times times now. The girl wastes no time trying to will the links among the corresponding holograms, knowing that if she takes too long, the beast currently stalking through Fazerblast could eventually find her again while she's stuck in the prompt.

Eventually she manages to complete the task, prompting the 'SECURITY NODE ACTIVATED SUCCESSFULLY!' message to pop up on the AR panel in her vision, followed by the second message of 'WARNING: SECURITY NODE VULNERABLE TO BREACHES! ACTIVATE THE CHILD NODES TO STABILIZE THE SECURITY NODE.' After that, the control panel ends with the PizzaPlex logo before disappearing.

The pieces of the parent node appear to then will back to life, rising off the floor and towards one another as if they were magnetic, forming the polygonal rabbit-shaped head once again. "Great job!" Helpi congratulates joyfully. "You've reactivated it! However it's still vulnerable with its child nodes deactivated. You need to find and reactivate them again." And indeed, the parent node was in that blue colors hinting its protections were down. She had to make it red again by reactivating the child nodes.

"Are the child nodes still the same ones?" Cassie asks a little short on breath, seeming hasty on her feet.

"Yes, they should be the same ones." Helpi answers, and M.X.E.S also nods its head in an affirmative response. "Just follow the cables over to them like you did before." The little bear explains.

Before Cassie can make a go for it, the sound of another wall being burst through echoes through Fazerblast; The headless Glamrock Freddy appears to be now breaking through walls and debris of the ruined attraction looking for her. "Hurry! Before that animatronic finds you again!" Helpi heeds her. "The sooner you reactivate the child nodes, then sooner you can leave Fazerblast behind!"

And Cassie does make a run for it through the destroyed maze, hastily searching for the child nodes with the cables guiding her in the AR world.

It's fortunate that the two child nodes aren't exactly far away, but with the disarray of the attraction, there were a lot of dead-ends that the cables wiggled through, forcing her to backtrack or or find different branches to stay on track. Soon she finds one child node, on what appears to be a menu display of sorts, probably belonging to the Faz-Pad (the AR world filter makes it hard to read it... not to mention she won't stop to read it with a beartrap animatronic plowing through for her.) Using her Faz-Wrench, Cassie manages to reactivate it, and as soon as she finishes it, she hears the headless bear burst another wall somewhere off, making her shudder. Okay, it's okay, just one child node left now...

It was very hard not to panic, though, as Cassie hurries through the ruined maze looking for the next node; Each second she took looking for it, the stomps of the patrolling robot felt ever closer and more assertive.

But soon she finds it, which it was hard to make out, either a prop or perhaps a busted screen, and like with the other, she reactivated it with her Faz-Wrench. "Great job! This area's parent node is up and running again!" Helpi congratulates once more. "Now hurry! A new AR portal should be open nearby the parent node that can take you to the exiting area of this attraction." And Cassie doesn't question it twice, scurrying through. Though on the way back she spots another freshly-made opening, meaning the beheaded glamrock was VERY near, but she tries to not let it distract her; the shortcut is her best bet.

Up ahead, Cassie can see the parent node now red, meaning its firewalls were up once more. As she neared the area, the AR portal would become visible. Yes! She's right there!

But before she knew it, something wrapped around her shin and pulled on it, causing her to lose her footing and fall down on her stomach, the mask falling off her face in the process. She barely gets to try getting back up when she felt herself being dragged back over the floor by her foot. She flips on her back only in time to see the horrifying stomach mouth looming over her. He had a grip on her foot which he let go after pulling her, but quickly went to grab down on her neck instead, earning a cry from her as he lifted her off the floor. Cassie squirms against his grip, but to her luck, before he could force her into his deformed stomach cavity, some props of the attraction piled up slip off the top and fall behind him, just grazing by his back; it distracts the headless Glamrock Freddy, causing him to accidentally loosen his grip on the girl as his upper body turns a bit likely wanting to look back. This gives Cassie the opportunity to break free from his grip, landing on her legs then scrambling up on her feet to try and run towards the AR portal.

Wait, she dropped her mask, she can't access the AR portal without the mask!

Fortunately it was just up ahead where she had been pulled off her footing, and she tries to reach for it again. But without it, it meant the animatronic's sensors were not delayed.

The headless Freddy manages to catch up to her once more (since she hadn't gotten very far to begin with,) grabbing at her neck again and lifting her off the ground with loud hissing coming off his inner gears, his jagged hatch growling mechanically and menancingly at her. "N-no!! No!!" Cassie begins to struggle rather desperately against his grasp, crying out with how close his chomping 'mouth' was, and with him pulling her even closer towards it despite her struggling, his twisted hatch opening wide. "No, please...!!"

Just as he was about to force her into his cavity, something dripped onto his exposed endoskeleton hand, and it caused him to hesitate, his twitchy frame quivering like a shudder.

He clearly had sensors separated from the head, with how hellbent he was at hunting her even without M.X.E.S ratting her location out to him. And besides detecting Cassie's presence, he was also detecting something that took a bit more priority in his system, however beat up it is.

He was detecting blood.

Cassie was bleeding on her head again, and she didn't get to wipe it in time, the blood trickling down the side of her forehead and face until it eventually dripped down on the sharply-clawed endoskeleton hand grasped around her neck.

That seemed to 'wake up' all sorts of alerts within the headless animatronic, despite his lack of higher thinking and thus being stuck in a much more feral state:

INJURED CHILD DETECTED.

However neither of the two get to process the hesitation, as creaking metal and shifting debris sound around them. And the top of a high pile of rubble, props and broken S.T.A.F.F Bots begins to collapse and fall around and onto them. It seems that the headless animatronic's viciousness through the attraction slamming his hands into the walls or breaking them down shook the stability off some of the piled junk through the ruined maze, especially those over the walls.

The robot drops Cassie upon feeling rubble falling onto him from above the walls, an horrible mechanical scream leaving him. The girl falls on her side, just shy from having things falling onto her too. The collapse raises a thick fog of dust and debris, hindering her vision and making her cough as breathing in such air is quite bad. She stumbles back up onto her feet and hurries away, picking up her mask on the way. Just as she was about to put it on to access the AR portal, she looks back over her shoulder.

She can see the robot pinned down under a newly formed pile of rubble as the dust cleared, only his upper body sticking out from underneath; his arms flail and hit around him, fighting to no avail to free himself. All that junk has to be clearly very heavy on him, and the mechanical scratched screeching that left his inner mechanisms very well suggesting he was in pain down there with the weight crushing onto him.

Cassie turned back around to try putting the mask on and leave, but the robotic beast's noises makes her hesitate. Even without very comprehensible communication, his sounds were clearly sounds of pain and anguish, maybe even fear. Well so what, right? He didn't care about her pain and fear, after. She turns ahead again, and despite that, she still couldn't bring herself to ignore his plight. She just couldn't.

She looks back at him again; with the mechanical noises he made and the way he moved erratically and thrashed, she could, even with him lacking his head, totally see the mental image of it with a look of suffering and misery if he still had it. That's not the kind of expression that should be on Glamrock Freddy's face. And she just...

Hasn't he suffered enough already? Hasn't she suffered enough?

Haven't them all suffered enough? Wasn't it enough? How was any of this fair?

Against what could be dubbed common sense, Cassie tucked her mask away into her backpack for the moment, moving over to the trapped headless bear while darting her eyes around, until they spot a long metal rod, likely part of the structure that used to keep Fazerblast up. She picks it up with both hands and approach the thrashing headless Freddy, holding the rod as if she was going to use it to put him out of his misery.

But instead she sticks it underneath the pile that pinned him, then tries elevating it by pushing the rod upwards in a tilt, trying to widen the gap that the animatronic was stuck in. Cassie visibly struggles with the weight she was fighting up against, which often barely seemed to budge, or her feet would skid backwards as a result of her getting pushed back instead of the pile getting moved. It was rough, it was high-effort, and it was dangerous;

With how she keeps trying to tilt the pile to loosen it off the flailing robot, the top of it above them both was starting to rock loosely with the movement. To make matters worse, all her struggle was catching up to her with her much more beat up state now, feeling her aches returning and her vision starting to double. Her throat felt dry and scratched up, her head starting to feel heavy and spin. And she realizes a bit too late that she was rocking the pile onto them both.

And to Cassie's utter disgrace, a severe dizzy spell hits her from all the physically taxing effort she had to put in, causing her to become dazed in midst of it. The sound of falling metal and rubble surround them as the top finally began to collapse over them; the sound however fading away in her ears as she blacked out way too quickly for her to evade or somehow try to protect herself.

To Be Continued...