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skellebonez · 3 years

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Who Do I Go To? (Monkie Kid Fanfic)

I totally did not accidentally post this early before I edited it or added everything from my wip file... no... but anon, you gave me so much FREEDOM with this that I just went absolutely off the rails. This is not only set in a post S3 scenario where everyone survives and most of the villains have some kind of at least semi-redemption (except LBD, rip), this does feature a crackship or two of mine (you can read the tags to see the ships before you read)! Sun Wukong also has all of his immortality and some of his powers, I am writing this with the idea that he transferred most of them to MK and some of that was permanent once LBD was defeated and MK got his own back.

So... what if Sun Wukong did start communicating with the others in S3... but still has been bottling up his emotions about the past for so long he doesn’t feel he can talk to anyone because of their shared experiences? And what happens when that guilt and grief finally has someone willing to listen?

“What are you doing here, Si-SUN Wukong?” The Demon Bull King asked slowly, stumbling over his usual insult for the one once so close to him. They still weren’t close, and it was doubtful they would ever be as long as the sworn brothers they once were, but they were no longer at each other’s throats anymore.

That didn’t change how bizarre it was to see The Great Sage Equal To Heaven just... sitting outside his new home with no warning.

“DBK!” Wukong exclaimed, more startled than the larger demon was expecting as he jumped up and turned and if he didn’t look like he’d been hit with a truck metaphorically DBK didn’t know how to describe the way his fur stood on end and the redness in the other’s eyes. “I. UH. Was. Just stopping by to say hi!”

“No you weren’t,” DBK said, face falling into a deadpan glower. “You don’t do that. Even after 500 years I know you don’t.”

“I can start!” Wukong defended, crossing his arms and looking away with a wide teeth showing smile.

Too wide.

Even after everything that happened between them, from Red Boy to what happened when he needed his wife’s fan to sealing him in the mountain and everything that transpired with the Little Thief, he recognized that unhappy nervous smile.

“You can,” DBK said with a nod, gesturing to the smaller being. “You can also be here for a reason. Like what I heard you muttering to yourself behind the door.”

“And that’s my cue to leave!” The Monkey King announced as he turned to walk away before a large hand, with shocking gentleness for the one attached to it, wrapped around his shoulders.

“If you need to talk-”

“No, haha, I most certainly have no need for that!”

“-you know we’ve already made peace. I-”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Wukong insisted, struggling only a little before freeing himself from the other’s grip with an even wider nervous smile.

“-am willing to listen.”

“Don’t have to!”

“Are you at least talking to anyone?”

Neither of them said anything, The Demon Bull King staring down at The Monkey King with both frustrated annoyance and genuine concern in his expression.

The former he could deal with, but the later was so new again that...

Sun Wukong panicked.

“.... OKEY BYE!” He yelled, jumping and allowing his cloud to catch him and take him off.

"YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM YOUR FEELINGS FOREVER SUN WUKONG!"

"I HID FROM THE WORLD FOR 500 YEARS AND I TURNED OUT JUST FINE, I THINK I'LL MANAGE!"

“He turned out fine, he says,” Princess Iron Fan called from behind her husband as she emerged from their home. “So fine that it took him losing his invincibility and his successor nearly being killed for him to admit he needed help.”

DBK grunted, nodding in agreement at her words.

“He needs more, still, my dear. Even I can see that.”

“Let’s call in some reinforcements then, darling. I think there are two people who may be able to get through to him.”

Sun Wukong sat on the beach of Mount Huaguo’s island home, clearly trying not to think about what had just transpired.

“Hey.”

“How did you even know to look for me here?” Sun Wukong asked, not nearly as startled this time. He’d heard the footsteps coming for a long time, the other apparently wanting to make his presence known.

“Bull King called Pigsy’s asking for MK. MK called me since he’s working. I remembered where you like to sulk. Hence: I’m here.”

Wukong groaned, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his face in them. “I shouldn’t have even left the house today.”

“But you left,” Macaque said with a shrug, watching the other stew in his frustration at himself. “And you went to see DBK... and I guess Princess Iron Fan too? But you ran off. Why?”

“I can’t check up on an old friend turned enemy turned less enemy to ‘not exactly friend but we’re not trying to kill each other’ without being questioned?” Wukong grumbled into his arms.

“Not when you make him sound as worried as he did when he talked to MK,” Macaque continued, voice becoming more tense. “You didn’t go to apologize or explain anything, I was there when all that went down. So... did you finally go to talk about everything e-”

“No.” The word was said with such coldness that Macaque knew it was put on. It wasn’t out of malice but something else, something more worried and fearful. “No. I can’t talk to him about... I told him everything that explained what happened. I apologized. I don’t need to talk more.”

"I don't understand why you're so opposed to to just talking about, you know... how you’re doing," Macaque said with a concerned frown. It almost felt odd on his face. Almost. He was still getting used to the whole "not being mortal eternal enemies and now being friends and kinda sorta caring about each other again" thing. "I know it's been centuries and all and you're out of practice but like... it's been centuries."

"I just... can't, Macaque," Wukong rebutted as he refused to lift his head from his arms. "I just can't."

"Why?"

"Don't."

The single word stayed in their air between them, heavy and hard and meaning more than the immortal would ever admit to.

"Come on, there has to be a reason," Macaque insisted as he sat down beside the other immortal. When no response came he sighed, tail flicking absently and flipping over some of the rocks on the beach as they sat in silence for few minutes. "You know... I started talking to someone."

"What?" Wukong turned his head, just enough to look at the other monkey from the corner of his eye.

“Sandy’s a good listener,” Macaque continued, falling back down to lay flat on his back and gaze up at the clouds. He remembered that Wukong felt better, sometimes, when you looked away when talked to. Didn’t know why, but he remembered. “Not exactly the kind of therapy he thinks I need, but he lends me his cats and he lets me talk and sometimes asks if I want advice. Sometimes I say yes, but when I say no he understands. Sometimes I just want to rant at that one little one eyed cat he has and she listened to... I think. She’s a cat so I wouldn’t know. He thinks I should see someone more experienced, an expert. Maybe he’s right, I dunno, but this helps enough for now.

“... who are you and what have you done with the Six-Eared Macaque?” Wukong asked with a soft glower, one that was clearly in jest from the tiny smile the other could see.

“Same Macaque,” the other said with a laugh, sitting back up with a theatrical flourish. “Just realized that talking to someone isn’t as dumb or useless as I made it out to be in my head. A lot of the stuff I thought about alone wasn’t exactly the best. Or healthiest. But now I can get that out there and sometimes it makes Sandy look like he ate a whole lime which probably means it’s good it’s not in my head anymore.”

“You ramble a lot,” Wukong said with a chuckle, tail swishing softly beside him before nudging against Macaque’s. He tensed before it slowly wrapped around the other’s. “It feels odd, having you try to cheer me up again after... everything.”

“Bad odd or good odd?”

“Good.”

“That’s.... good,” Macaque said, squeezing Wukong’s tail with his own. “Feels odd for me too. Like I’m out of practice too. But it’s good odd...” The two sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company before he continued. “I do think you should talk to someone. Anyone.”

“I don’t know who, though. Every time I try I just... clam up and run away. I’ve put so much on MK already,” Wukong said, tail squeezing around Macaque’s loosely in return. “And Pigsy and Sandy... After all that came out, that Sandy is Sha Wujing and Pigsy is Zhu Bajie’s reincarnation... I just... I can’t talk to them either, even though Pigsy doesn’t remember anything at all. And you... DBK... everyone... who do I go to that knows enough about me to know what they’re in for but I won’t have those memories floating around in the back of my head toward making me run away?”

“Well, you could have Sandy help you get a therapist. Prepare them in advance. Or, if you’re not ready for that, you could talk to Tang?” Macaque suggested with a shrug. “He listens to me when I’m not talking to Sandy... but that’s probably because we’re dating, that’s what it is now instead of courting, right? So he kinda has to I think? Pigsy and MK talk to him too but with me I think it’s different.”

"I don't think that's how it works," Wukong said with a half hearted chuckle as he finally raised his head all the way. "Besides, I've known Tang longer."

"By like 3 months."

"3 months more is still enough to know that if he doesn't want to listen to you he won't. The man knows how to make a speedy exit."

"Guess that's one more thing that sets him apart from his great-great-great-great-great-whatever uncle," Macaque admitted with a shrug and a chuckle of his own. He squeezed his tail around Wukong's, smile softening when he felt it being returned.

“Feels... weird though,” Wukong said with a shrug. “The two of them looking so much alike.”

“Yeah, but that’s it,” Macaque rebutted. “He’s Tang Sanzang’s great-whatever nephew 5 times removed or whatever and he looks like him. Other than that? He knows pretty much all of your history. He’s mostly out of the hero worship zone but he still respects you a lot. Aside from everything that happened with LBD and MK you two have the least history out of everyone so maybe whatever’s in your head making you clam up might not stop you. And it couldn't hurt to try. It’s not therapy, it’s just talking about something that’s bothering you. Worst that can happen is you get nervous and fumble and he takes the opportunity to ask you 40 questions about the times you were almost incinerated by a baby."

"That was one time!"

“Uh,” Tang started, staring out the open door with wide eyes at the being before him. “Hi. I didn’t exactly expect to you see today.”

“I didn’t exactly expect to be here today,” Wukong said awkwardly, nervous smile taking over his face as his tone became far too jovial for what he was about to ask. “Macaque sent me to... talk to you. About me?” His smile drooped bit by bit as he said these words, slowly starting to lose his determination to go through with this. “Oh second thought, maybe I should-”

"No," Tang said, reaching out to put a hand on the immortal's shoulder. It was nothing, really, not to someone as strong as he was. Not when he could brush it off and walk away. Go home. Just sit on his couch and watch Monkey King The Animated Series again and just think about how no one deserved to be saddled with his problems anymore. But Wukong didn't. "Whatever it is, we’re going to talk about this now. I know I’m not trained like Sandy is, but I know how to listen. And if you need someone to listen to you, I can. You wouldn't have come here to talk if you didn't."

“... ok...” Sun Wukong said, letting Tang wrap his arm around his back and guide him inside his shared home with Pigsy and Macaque.

It was... odd. Being inside this place for the first time. He’d been outside of the door more than once, invited in as well. But never inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Tang said, stopping his guidance once they reached the sofa. “I’m no Sandy, but I was making myself some tea and it is a batch of his own anyway. I’ll grab us some snacks too.”

“Snacks would be great,” Wukong admitted, watching the other disappear into the house’s kitchen before he sighed and gripped his thrashing tail and muttered to himself. “What am I doing..? I shouldn’t put all this on Tang... I should have gone with Macaque’s first suggestion, I’m-”

“Do you prefer lychee or persimmon?” Tang asked suddenly, startling the immortal for the second time that day. “We’re out of peach bao, but MK’s been making them out of lots of fruits and we have so many that I was planning on eating them myself.”

The scholar returned, faster than expected, with a full tray in hand. Teapot, two tea cups, and a steamer box that presumably held the buns he was asking about.

“Uh... persimmon,” Wukong answered, and he watched as Tang poured each of them a cup of tea and removed some clearly fresh (or at least made some time earlier in the day and freshly steamed), pieces of fruit laden bao to put on a plate for his guest before taking a seat in a chair across from him. “You were... getting lunch?”

Tang shrugged, laughing as he took a bite of one of his own. “Just wanted a snack. But,” He smiled, gesturing to the Monkey King. “We’re not here to talk about snacks. What’s on your mind?”

“Awfully forward start.”

“I try to be forward with the people I consider my friends.”

“... You consider me... a friend?” Wukong asked slowly, turning the bao over in his hands. It was well made, perfect he would say. You’d think MK would have been making them all his life, not that he’d learned how to on the drone ship while on the run from an evil super demon bent on erasing his mentor from the world.

“After everything we went through, how could I not?” Tang said, putting his food down to sip his tea and then putting that down as well and looking at him seriously. “You’re here because it’s the anniversary of the day you sealed away the Demon Bull King, aren’t you?”

The bao in his hands wasn’t perfect anymore. Instead the red lychee inside dripped from his claws from where they punctured it in surprise.

“How did you-?”

“My specialty study is your history after all,” Tang said, smile returning with a sad tint. “I’ve known the date for years but I felt it was something to keep to myself. For some reason. Now with you and DBK back I think that was a good choice. It feels too personal to have out in the open for everyone to make a spectacle of.”

“Is it selfish of me to be thankful for that?” Wukong muttered, gently placing the bao on the plate to lick his claws clean.

“I don’t think so,” Tang answered.

“I feel selfish though,” he continued, not managing to take note of how Tang sat up straighter and turned more toward him. “I went to DBK’s to... I don’t know. I wanted to apologize again? But I already did and he accepted it and it feels selfish to want to again. Then I just. I froze.”

“Why?” Tang asked, scooting closer.

“It felt wrong.”

“Because you would make him feel awkward?”

“NO!” Wukong groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I just. I feel...” He took in a shaky breath, claws digging into his skin slightly.

“Don’t,” Tang’s voice came soft and closer than Wukong expected, as did the hands on his own slowly pulling his claws away from his face. “Don’t hurt yourself. And don’t bottle it up. I’ll listen to you. No matter what it is. It’s not selfish, feeling things isn’t selfish.”

“I miss it,” Wukong breathed out, shaky and choppy as his throat tightened as the words started to pour out of him. “I miss him. How things used to be between us and Iron Fan. I miss that I never got to meet Red Son when he was Red Boy. I miss Beng and Ba and Ma and Liu and how things used to be. I miss Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing even though they’re here. I miss my Tang Sanzang. I’d been alone for 500 years and I missed so much and I did that to myself and it’s selfish to miss like that...”

He didn’t realize his cheeks were wet until his hands had been let go and one of Tang’s rubbed a cloth against them. Tang cupped his cheeks softly before wrapping his arms around him and tucking the Monkey King’s head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

“No... no it’s not. You’re allowed to miss things, Sun Wukong. Just like anyone else.”

Sun Wukong started to feel better.

He didn’t know why that was what did it, but the dam broke. It broke and his tears came pouring out as he hugged the man who reminded him so much of his Master. He didn’t know if anything he said in the mean time made any sense, if he was just blubbering and finally letting himself mourn what he’d lost and never had, but Tang didn’t ever chastise him. He let him weep and hold him and for the first time in years...

“Oh!” Princess Iron Fan startled as she opened the door to see who had knocked, finding herself face to face at sunset with one Great Sage. “You’ve returned.”

“Are you and DBK free?” Sun Wukong asked, smile no longer too wide. “I... kinda just wanna talk with you for a bit.”

“Well... I think that would be lovely.”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #prompt fill #no ships #gen fic #hurt comfort #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #dbk and pif #tang #technically tintedlenses is in here #and hinted freesquidinknoodles i had to add that in after THAT ART TODAY #but it's only a couple lines

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buck-buck-boose · 3 years

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I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: I am... so sorry for taking so long. I was not expecting the start of the semester to be so hectic. I can't promise I'll go back to posting as regularly as during the summer, but I can promise that I'm not disappearing. I promise. I WILL SEE THIS FANFIC THROUGH EVEN IF IT KILLS ME. Thank you for the kind words and support while I've been MIA. Enjoy a chunky chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Little Saint Lottie

October 27, 1943

“I’m worried about her, Betty.”

“I know, Gladys. I know.”

Lottie couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a full night’s rest. Days seemed to bleed into each other, with no slumber to distinguish today from tomorrow. It wasn’t long after arriving at Azzano that she realized that he wasn’t waiting for her. Bucky was gone. In his place, dozens of men awaited her arrival with sunken eyes and twitching lips that begged for relief, whether it be through a healing touch or a final blow to the head.

When the realization hit Lottie, there wasn’t much she could do besides throwing herself into her work; if she couldn’t help Bucky, the least she could do was help his brothers in arms. Although anxiety ate her up from the inside out, Lottie had confidence in Bucky’s abilities. He wouldn’t let himself die in some POW camp, he just wouldn’t. Because then who would take care of her and Steve? He’d fight tooth and nail to get back to them, she just knew it.

She threw herself into her work, rarely stopping long enough to have a proper conversation or a full meal; this bad habit of hers came to a halt, though, when she came upon a boisterous redhead in need of stitches. Lottie had been deep in thought while examining the gash above his forehead when the soldier cracked a grin and peered up at her without moving his head too much.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Lottie shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Private—” she glanced at his dog tags, “—O’Connor.”

“Ever done pinup? Maybe I know you from one of those cheesecakes we’ve got hanging up.” The man— more of a boy really, with his lanky frame and jovial smile —wiggled his eyebrows and ruined her diligent work of cleaning the blood from his wound.

The question left Lottie flustered; the idea of dozens of men gawking at her scantily clad figure left her feeling mortified, “Certainly not! I find that my talents are better suited for healing.”

O’Connor nodded and inspected her face carefully as she went to work on his gash once more. “I’ve got it!” Lottie nearly jumped away from him when he clapped his hands together, “You’re Little Saint Lottie, in the flesh!” The boy crowed his revelation, earning him glares from the other men recovering in the medic tent.

Lottie nearly dropped the needle that she’d been preparing to thread, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, it’s a funny story,” O’Connor chuckled, “Y’see, Sarge had this little photo he’d take everywhere. Always had it in his pocket, tucked in his helmet, you name it. Wouldn’t let the damn thing go. Anyway, we stole it out of his fatigues one day while he was cleaning up in some river ‘cause we wanted to see what the big deal was. Once we saw it was some dame—” Lottie shot him a look, “—lady, we started yanking his chain about it. He was just about as obsessed with that photo as my Ma is with her holy cards, so when he finally told us your name, we dubbed you ‘Little Saint Lottie,’ patron saint of the one hundred and seventh. That kinda pissed him off, but it’s not like you’re his girl, y’know? Though he sure acted like you were.”

Lottie was speechless. About halfway through his story, her mouth had dropped open and her hands had fallen to her lap. Here she was, looking dumb as an ox, while the soldier in front of her chuckled with childish glee.

“Me and the guys would even ask for your intercession whenever the chaplain came by to pray with us. Poor guy had no clue which saint we were talkin’ about. We tried to give it a place of honor in the tent but Sarge made us run laps when he found out we’d nicked it again.”

O’Connor nearly doubled over in laughter as he watched Lottie’s expression grow in horror. “Well as I’m sure Bucky— Sergeant Barnes has told you, I’m no saint. I’m just a nurse. Now hold still, unless you want these stitches to be more painful than they already are.” Before she could stop herself, the question came tumbling out of her mouth, “Speaking of Sergeant Barnes, do you know—” she fumbled with the needle as she made the first stitch, “—is he alright? Did you see him?” The soldier let out a hiss of pain, “Yeah, I got a glimpse of him while they were takin’ him away. He was battered but alright. There’s no man quite like Sarge, I know he’ll be back. He’d fight tooth and nail to get back. That’s what he said at least, ‘cause he always went on and on about how you needed him and all that. He sure talked about you an awful lot for a guy who hasn’t even asked you to go steady.”

Lottie’s breath hitched at the final comment, the mere idea of going steady with Bucky reducing her to a stuttering schoolgirl. She began to tie off his stitches, “We’ve been best friends for over a decade, it’s perfectly normal to care for each other deeply without bringing affection into it.”

O’Connor shrugged, which jostled her arm slightly, “I’ve never heard a guy talk about his best friend like that.”

Lottie didn’t respond. She gave his fully sutured wound one last glance, “Looks like you’re all set. Now don’t do anything stupid to get it infected.”

He gave her a crooked grin and wiggled his eyebrows, Lottie nearly scolded him but held her tongue, “As you wish, Saint Lottie.”

Lottie rolled her eyes and moved along to the next bed, where another soldier waited with a smile just as wide. It seemed that these men had become pleased as punch to know their patroness had come to grace them with her presence.

The USO’s visit to their camp took Lottie completely by surprise. She’d spent so much time floating from one medic tent to the next that she’d ended up completely out of the loop of the camp’s other goings-on. It wasn’t until she saw the fully-erected stage in the middle of camp that she realized. Her heart beat powerfully within her; with Steve here, she would be one step closer to finding Bucky. One step closer to bringing him home. “They say he’s gonna be here in a few hours,” Mary beamed, obviously giddy to see the Star-Spangled Man up close and in the flesh.

Lottie returned her smile, though it was weak. The weariness was starting to catch up to her, making her feel much older than a youthful twenty-three. Her stomach was in knots with anxiety; she needed to get to Steve as soon as possible.

Betty stood with them as they watched the hustle and bustle of preparations, “I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones looking forward to seeing Captain America. All these boys care about is seeing a bunch of girls dancing for them on stage, not some hunk of meat in a red, white, and blue suit.”

Nancy, who had just joined the conversation, scoffed, “It’s quite disappointing how little you think of these men and their patriotism.”

Gladys rolled her eyes, “They’re still men, Nancy. Scantily clad women or a guy singing about war bonds? They’re gonna prefer the women.”

Several hours later, Gladys was indeed proven right. Although he’d been driven off-stage with jeers and taunts, Lottie was waiting for him with a warm embrace.

“Hey, Lottie,” She could hear the smile in his voice, she felt its warm timbre as it surrounded her and reminded her of home.

“Good to see ya, Stevie.”

Steve pulled away from her and gazed around the camp, a grimace growing on his features, “Things don’t look to good around here.”

Lottie nodded, a twin grimace gracing her lips, “The hundred and seventh started out with two hundred men. Now they’ve only got fifty left. They’re barely holding on.”

Steve’s gaze shot to hers the moment she mentioned the one hundred and seventh, “Lottie that’s— this is Bucky’s—” The desperate look in his eyes made her own calm exterior begin to crack.

“Stevie, I know,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat and tears pricking at her eyes, “I know, and I’m sorry. He’s not here. They— Those bastards took him, damn them!” For the first time since arriving at camp, Lottie cried. She sobbed and clung to Steve once more, feeling every bit like a scared little girl from days gone by.

Steve rested his hand against her back, “I’ll get him out, Lottie. He’s gotta be alive and I’ll get him out.”

She shook her head and wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, “No, Steve. You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

“Lottie, you know I can’t put you in harm’s way like that—”

“Steve. I’m serious. What do you think I was doing that whole time I was with the SSR? Yes, we were making the serum, but they nearly trained us to death. I can shoot, I can use my knife. I can’t let you go without me.” Her voice was starting to crack, “We have to find Bucky together.”

There was silence between the two of them until Steve finally conceded, a wary gaze in his eyes, “Fine. But you need to be by my side the whole time.” Lottie nodded her chest warming with hope. “C’mon, we need to have a conversation with Colonel Philipps.”

The two of them jogged to his tent with their coats held above their heads to shield them from a sudden shower of rain. They entered the colonel’s tent, looking comical with their wet hair and heaving chests. Around them, soldiers and officials paced to and fro, examining maps or signing off various forms. If Lottie squinted, she could just barely make out the words. Letters of condolences; heartbreakingly clinical letters of regret for the losses of these sons, these brothers, these boys.

“Colonel Phillips,” Steve began, “Are you planning a rescue mission? For the surviving prisoners from the Battle of Azzano?”

The colonel looked back at him with a straight face, “Yeah, it’s called winning the war.”

Steve’s blond eyebrows furrowed, “But if you know where they are why not at least—”

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines. Through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save, but I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl,” before Lottie could protest, he shot her a glance as well, “and you’re just a nurse.”

Steve’s gaze on Colonel Phillips was cool, “I think I understand just fine.”

The colonel pushed past them, “Well then understand it somewhere else. Now if I read the posters correctly, you’ve got someplace to be in thirty minutes.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

Steve grabbed Lottie’s hand and pulled her behind him, “C’mon, we’ve gotta get going. You go get changed.”

Lottie nodded; her medical uniform would impede this mission so she’d need to wear the fatigues that the government had finally issued to them. Her heart raced a mile a minute as she scrambled back to the nurse’s tent to change. She knew that Colonel Philipps would be terribly angry once he found out she’d shirked her night duties, but her loyalties to Bucky took precedence. The recovering soldiers were left in the capable hands of her peers. She swore as she nearly toppled over while yanking her boots on; it was rather hard to get dressed in such a hurry. By the time she was ready and had exited the tent, she was met with the somber faces of Agent Carter and Steve.

“Agent Carter, what are you doing?” For a moment, she feared that they’d already been caught, that the SSR was already putting an end to their mission.

The other woman pursed her lips, “I’m here to help.”

A mere half-hour later and they found themselves in the SSR’s plane, headed to Krausberg, where the POW camp was located. Howard Stark called out to them from the cockpit, “We should be able to drop you right at their doorstep.”

Fear was starting to creep into Lottie’s mind and burrowed itself deep within her gut. She heard the conversation continue all around her, but she was still processing the daunting mission before her. She and Steve up against Hydra. All alone. Even Bucky had struggled against them; he’d lost to them in the Battle of Azzano. Bucky. That’s what worried her most. It’s what filled her with the most fear. If she and Steve got through the Hydra camp safe and sound only to find that he was dead, Lottie wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it. She’d probably go mad, in all honesty. She’d end up in some institution, crying over lucky pennies and charcoal drawings while being molly-coddled by some woman in white. How tragic that would be.

Before her thoughts could become any darker, Lottie was jolted back to reality by the sound of bullets against metal. Steve grabbed his shield and her arm, urging her to join him by the plane’s exit.

Agent Carter shot up from her seat, “Get back here! We’re taking you all the way in!”

He turned to respond, “As soon as I’m clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!” “You can’t give me orders!”

A smile grew on his face, “The hell I can’t! I’m a captain!”

Steve shifted his goggles and nudged Lottie, “It’s go time. When you see me pull the chute out, you do the same.”

Lottie nodded with a quiet determination, and together, they jumped.

Entering the base was painstakingly quiet; once they’d snuck into a truck and eliminated the guards inside, Steve and Lottie were left to mouth words and offer silent support through unwavering gazes. Once they’d safely passed the gate of the base, they exited the truck and swiftly dealt with any opposition.

Steve led her across the base with caution, giving hand signals when it was safe to turn a corner and sprint across a patch of unobstructed space. The two of them traveled with the shadows, avoiding any spotlights that could catch them in the act. Lottie scarcely felt that she could breathe, it was as if one exhale would reveal their presence to the multitude of guards.

Once they entered the main building, the two of them found themselves in what seemed to be a factory. There were giant sheets of metal everywhere and huge bombs seemed to surround them. Amongst them all, Hydra soldiers transported other metal parts and containers of glowing blue material. That did not bode well with Lottie at all.

Lottie spotted some guards walking to a lower level, jangling keys in hand. “Steve, they might be guarding the prisoners.” Her whisper was barely audible, fear keeping her from speaking any louder.

“The blueprints said they were below the manufacturing level. C’mon.”

They followed the guards onto a walkway that had large circular grates that cut into the metal, each forming the ceiling of small cells that the poor prisoners had been separated into. Lottie and Steve knocked the guards out and stole their keys. The two dropped to the same level as the cells and began unlocking their doors.

One of the soldiers gazed at them through the bars of his cell, “Who are you supposed to be?”

Steve panted from stress, “I’m Captain America.” He gave Lottie an expectant look.

“I guess I’m Little Saint Lottie,” she responded somewhat sarcastically, referencing the retrospectively comical nickname that was developed by the one hundred and seventh.

Some of the men cracked grins, “So you’ve heard our prayers, huh?”

“Loud and clear. Now let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

She tried to ignore the growing horror inside of her upon the realization that none of these men had brilliant blue eyes. Not a dimpled chin in sight.

“Is there anybody else? I’m looking for a Sergeant James Barnes.” It seemed that the same horror was growing within Steve.

A man in a scarlet beret responded, his British accent prim and proper, “There’s an isolation ward in the factory, but no one’s ever come back from it.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded, “The tree line is northwest, 80 yards past the gate. Get out fast and give ‘em hell. We’ll meet you guys out in the clearing with anyone else we find.”

“Wait, you know what you’re doing?” “Yeah. I’ve knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times.”

Lottie couldn’t help but stare at Steve in amazement. Gone was that awkward boy from Brooklyn. He was a man now, a leader who could do anything he put his mind to. He’d grown so much, not just physically, but in his character.

While the prisoners worked their way out of the base, Steve and Lottie began their search for the isolation wards. Lottie tried to ignore the sounds of explosions and men crying out from below them while they traveled across metal catwalks. She could only hope that the cries of pain were coming from Hydra soldiers.

After turning several corners, they found themselves in an old hallway, surrounded by brick on both sides. They hurried down the corridor out of desperation; they knew they were running out of time. Lottie stopped suddenly when she heard a groan. It was close. She drew her weapon and dragged Steve into the room, her heart stuttering and her palms slick with sweat.

“Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven…” That voice. Oh, how she knew that voice; she loved it so. Lottie heard it whenever she found the time to fall asleep. It crept into her sweetest dreams but tore her apart whenever it wiggled its way into her nightmares.

Bucky lay in front of them, strapped down to a table; his lips moved ever so slightly as he repeated the same phrase over and over again.

She rushed to his side alongside Steve and nearly let out a cry of happiness. Had the situation not been so dire, she would’ve descended upon him with a bone-crushing embrace and great big sobs of joy by that point.

Lottie whispered a quiet, “Bucky?” His eyes were glazed over and his mouth agape, “Is that— is that—”

“It’s us, Buck,” Steve nodded reassuringly as he tore at the straps across Bucky’s chest. Bucky looked up at him, taking his face in,

“Us?”

“Me and Lottie,” he nodded, tugging her closer so that the two of them could be in Bucky’s field of vision.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, finally feeling whole again. She’d gotten her Brooklyn boys back. Bucky only looked back in confusion, “Little Lottie, she— she’s always been here. Always. Stayed with me the whole time.”

It was Lottie and Steve’s turn for confusion. Lottie brushed the hair back from his forehead to calm him down and ground him, “Bucky, I’ve been with the SSR this whole time. We’re here to rescue you.”

Steve nodded and dragged him off the table, “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky was obviously having a hard time processing everything that was happening, “I thought you were smaller.”

Lottie listened as the gunfire intensified, “Come on, we need to move.” Steve threw one of Bucky’s arms over his shoulder and the two fell into step behind her.

“What happened to you?” Bucky grunted out, pain etched into his voice.

“I joined the army.”

“Did it hurt?”

Steve was growing agitated, “A little.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.” Lottie huffed, “I’d sure hope so after all that effort I put into it.”

Bucky mustered out a befuddled, “Huh?”

“I helped to create the serum that made him like that.”

“So that’s why you left without saying a word.” Bucky’s tone was only slightly accusatory.

Lottie muttered a weak “Yeah.” They’d need to have a lengthier conversation once he wasn’t struggling to walk five yards.

As they crossed the catwalks to get towards the exit, the factory below them began to combust. Huge flames erupted from the metal contraptions and triggered explosions all around them. They hastily climbed the metal stairs to get to higher ground.

“Captain America, how exciting!” A thick German accent cut through the noise of explosions and gunfire. “I am a great fan of your films!” Before them stood two men; one was a short little fellow clad in a jacket and fedora. The other was tall and wore a distinguished Hydra uniform with its menacing crest emblazoned on his shoulder.

The taller of the two gave Captain America a once over as he strode across the catwalk that separated them, “So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Steve snarled and punched the man in the face. The swift blow caused a blotch of redness to appear near his eye and a sinking feeling of realization settled into Lottie’s stomach. This was Schmidt, the monster who used the serum prototype.

Before she could say anything, Schmidt struck back and left a dent in Steve’s shield, “Haven’t I?”

There was a brief scuffle before Schmidt backed off while the other man pulled a lever, pulling the catwalk apart. With a grin, Schmidt began pulling at the skin of his face and revealed fiery red muscle and tissue beneath, just as Lottie had seen when she first began experimenting with the formula. “You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!”

“Then how come you’re running?”

Steve never got an answer. Schmidt and the other man had already boarded an elevator and left them standing on the catwalk, nearly helpless.

Another explosion went off, cueing the trio to leave, “C’mon, let’s go. Up.” Lottie instructed the men to follow her, though she wasn’t too sure how to escape the factory. All she knew was that they needed to keep ascending the stairs.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they were faced with a metal beam that led to a catwalk with an exit. It was terrifyingly slim, with only enough room to place one foot in front of the other.

“Ladies first,” Bucky murmured, “but I’ll be right behind you.” Lottie felt sure of herself knowing that at least she wouldn’t have to cross on her own.

She took a tentative first step, testing how well it would hold her weight. Lottie tried not to look down at the fiery pit below while she carefully moved along the beam. It was a comfort to have Bucky behind her with his chest nearly pressed against her back as he followed her every step. Lottie had just scrambled over the railing of the catwalk when a jarring explosion shifted the beam’s position and sent it careening downwards. She gasped in horror as Bucky leaped to grab onto the catwalk.

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!”

Steve stared at the two of them from across the pit, “Just go! Get out of here!”

Bucky slammed his fist on the railing, desperation tearing at his voice, “No, not without you!”

“Steve, please! We can’t just leave you here!” Lottie pleaded. Steve couldn’t die, not like this.

With a look of determination, Steve backed up and made a running jump to clear the gap between the two catwalks. An explosion threatened to swallow him up, but he made it over safely, although a little worse for wear.

Lottie and Bucky could only stare in amazement. Steve nodded to them both, “Let’s get outta here.”

Several ladders and a whole lot of dodging later, the trio found themselves trudging towards the tree line.

It was silent amongst the three of them; painfully, dreadfully silent. She decided it was time to break the silence, “Bucky, I—”

“Look, Little Lottie, I know you’re sorry, alright? And I forgive you. Even though you lied to my face and left without saying goodbye, I had a whole lotta time to spend forgiving you.”

Now that the fear of being caught by Hydra soldiers had fully subsided, Lottie allowed herself to let out a sob of joy and nearly threw herself at Bucky. She almost apologized for the force of her embrace since it was likely to hurt a man who’d been captured by Hydra, but he didn’t show any sign of pain. She’d need to remember that for later.

“I missed you so much, Bucky. I really did,” Lottie nearly whimpered. Gosh, she sure sounded lovesick. “I missed you too, Little Lottie.” His embrace was sure and strong, and with it, a flood of memories came back to her. Nights on her fire escape. A birthday evening spent swing dancing. A lucky penny slipped into her hand. For the first time in months, Lottie finally felt whole. Her heart that had been splintered into shards of pain and hopelessness had finally begun to mend itself back together. While she found comfort in his arms and forgiveness, she knew there were still so many words left unsaid; words that he needed and deserved to hear.

“Yeah, I missed you guys too,” Steve muttered, obviously peeved that he was being left out of their moment.

“Aw, come on, Stevie,” Lottie grinned and pulled away from Bucky a little to allow Steve to join their hug.

“And if I remember correctly, Bucky, I think it’s actually Little Saint Lottie now,” she grinned. While she couldn’t see his face at the moment, she just knew it was turning a gorgeous shade of scarlet, based on the sputtering coming out of his mouth.

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lovelywingsart · 3 years

Text

Turning Cogs

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/Her) --

Remember 'Apologies'? Well, this is more or less a type of 'follow-up'! Over 20 years later. I may also make a small timeline, or an explanation post about it, but anyway-

This was also a cute fun one, and my favorite right next to 'Chase'. I just... I love cute things for them... I need more cute things for them. It makes me feel a little better.

Please, please don't hate me for what's coming next. (That is, IF I choose to post it immediately after this... I may wait a bit until another story or two is up...)

**Remember, check out the Masterlist for more! <3 **

-----

*Warning?: Cute sappy shit, read at your own risk eue

Summary: A 'task' given years ago leads to a small solution near the end of the line. Emmy has a gift! But what is it? What significance will it hold? Alot more than she thinks, that's for sure!

The factory ran smoothly, production went on as usual, and the hope of freedom permeated the air as the date of the 'revolution' drew near. A few days... It was only a few days. Supposedly, at least. Emelia found herself simply wandering the factory at times, much like Heisenberg himself. Sure, she worked, but it often helped ease her mind of the now constant nervous jitters she found herself experiencing. But she now currently walked with a purpose, making her way to the notorious metal man with an eager hop in her step.

As she wandered the halls, she mused to herself how great all of this had become. The factory, the creations, even the small 'bond' she shared with the man who ran it all. It wasn't much of one, she thought, but recently it had become almost... like a dream. Like an odd, welcoming dream after their talk some weeks ago. He tried... He actually did try, she noticed. After so many years, she had come know the man very well, and the small changes he had made in just a few weeks time were highly evident. She enjoyed them... Thoroughly, at that. He didn't even change himself, and it wasn't a forced change. It was... Natural.

As if the changes were being held back for years.

She found herself smiling more with him. Smiling and genuinely enjoying herself, even laughing at times when they were alone. Even the mechanical menaces didn't prove to be much of an issue lately... Even as she wandered past, the creatures simply ignored her. Sure, she was still somewhat worried about the upcoming events, but she found it easier to keep her mind off of them and relax when he was around. It was wonderful, really.

She made her way to the upper levels after a while with just the smallest bit of excitement. A small jingling in her pocket could be heard as she jogged to the elevator that boosted that feeling, and she couldn't help but smile again. She knew what the sound was... She had been thinking about the small items for years. Literal years. She kept them with her at times ever since he had given her the task well over 20 years ago, and they hadn't left her mind since. Only recently had she finally had an idea for them, and while she had initially considered it a little dumb, it was the only thing she could think of. She just hoped he would agree.

She stepped off the elevator as it creaked to a stop, making her way through more doors and halls until she finally made it to a gold and copper encased door with the 'family' crest in the middle. She paused before opening the door, running her hand along the impression of the stallion that adorned the crest. She had to admit, she had grown fond of it over the years... Knowing that it was coming to a glorious 'end' only filled her with more eagerness as she pressed her palm to the horses nose and opened the door. She was met with an echoing, deep hum of a quiet song. It was one that she recognized, and she couldn't help but join the hum as she rounded the corner. The other hum paused for only a moment, followed by a light chuckle before it continued, now with quiet words.

As she finally reached the personal workshop, she was met with Heisenberg slightly hunched over his work table, a pencil in his hands and small metal objects 'dancing' around him lazily as he sung their tune. Despite the small scraps, he was relatively calm, tilting his head as she approached. His singing only stopped with a chuckle as she casually wrapped her arms around his chest, pressing her face to the back of his neck. It was a common gesture going both ways, and she felt a scarred hand reached to hold her arm.

"Hello there." He mused, turning his head slightly.

"Why did you stop singing?" Emelia asked, being met with a chuckle.

"Because you're in the room now."

"Would you like me to leave then?"

"No, I think prefer you right here." Heisenberg chuckled, finally turning in her arms to face her. He simply leaned back against the table, wrapping one arm around her waist while using the other to direct the scraps to float around them. "Is there something you needed?"

She watched the scraps flutter as if they were moths, tilting her head slightly.

"I came to tell you something. Or... 'give', rather." She said simply, her eye moving to meet his as she leaned against him. He raised a brow in interest.

"Oh?" He said, pausing his hand movements for a moment. "And what could you possibly have to give me?"

She couldn't help but give a small smile, carefully taking a step back, careful not to hit one of the scraps.

"Do you remember that... 'task' years ago? With the defect cogs?"

He watched her for a moment, light confusion entering his features. The cogs... Cogs?? Wait, those cogs??? She couldn't have POSSIBLY meant THOSE cogs. He vaguely remembered the situation, and his nose scrunched.

"Emmy, that was... That was how long ago??" He said, crossing his arms slightly.

"A few years..."

"A few??"

"Ok, more than a few. But that's besides the point." She shook her head reaching into her pocket almost hesitantly. "I believe I found something for them..."

Heisenbergs brows raised in legitimate surprise.

"You what???" He asked, slowly lowering the scraps to the floor as Emelia took hold of something In her pocket. He shook his head. "There... You couldn't have. That task was a joke. A test to see what you would do under stress."

"Well, I didn't take it as one." She shrugged. "You're a sneaky twit, Heisenberg. I wasn't going to let an obvious trick sway me."

"It seemed to 'sway' you back then." He smirked lightly, nearly laughing at the sudden redness that entered her cheeks as vivid memories played in her mind. She rolled her eye and pulled her hand out, her fist curled around something.

"'Tricks' aside, I never stopped thinking about it, and I've finally thought of something." She said, ignoring the knowing chuckle he gave. She cleared her throat slightly, looking at her hand. "Just... promise you won't laugh."

"Why would I ever laugh at you, Emelia?" He mused, only to chuckle again and hold up his arms as she glared at him. "Alright, alright, I'm done. What did you think of?"

"Well..." she started, taking a breath. "I was looking at them, and the holes went all the way through to the other sides, and had some other small ones. They were pretty useless for most things I could come up with, but..."

She opened her hand, letting something fall and clink together- hanging from her fingers were the cogs, each carefully welded to three smaller cogs and wrapped with thin, copper wire, with a thick, black string through the main defective holes. Each main cog held a small bit of red stone in the middle, adding a small bit of color to the otherwise metallic items. She brought them slightly closer to her chest, a deeper blush forming on her face as she watched Heisenbergs eyes widen with simultaneous surprise and interest. Emelia cleared her throat slightly.

"I, um... I'm not the best or most creative, I suppose... and I had the string Donna gifted me, with some of the glass pieces from the Reservoir... I found the wire pieces around here..." she managed, looking at the small necklaces. "It's... It's not much..."

She fell silent for a moment, looking up at the man in front of her. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. His face held a strange mixture of emotion as he held out a hand, beckoning her forward. She held out the hand with the necklaces as she moved, swallowing hard as his fingers gingerly went behind one of the pieces and brought it forward to inspect it.

"... You actually made these?" He asked. She nodded.

"Just some minor welding and scrap melts for the smaller ones..." she replied quietly, watching as his eyes seemed to inspect every small detail. She then frowned slightly. "I... I-I'm sorry, it's... They're stupid-"

"No, no... Not stupid..." he said quietly, now holding both. Each of the smaller cogs were made of different mixed materials, providing an interesting effect once they hit the light. "They're... Impressive."

She perked up slightly.

"Really...?"

He nodded.

"Why are there two?" He asked, glancing up at her with interest. She worked her jaw slightly.

"I... I thought maybe... um..." she tried, avoiding his gaze. "I thought... perhaps... we could each have one... maybe?" She managed, her voice quiet.

There was silence for a few moments, and she could feel his gaze as he fully looked at her. It wasn't until he chuckled that she looked at him, surprised to see a grin on his face.

"Brilliant idea, Emmy." He said, trailing one of the strings up to where her hand held them to carefully remove one from her grip. She stared at him.

"... Really?"

"Sure!" He chuckled, bringing the one he held close to his face to look over it once more. "May I ask what the inspiration was?"

"I... didn't really have one..." she replied, only to go rigid as he reached forward and took hold of her arm to pull her closer.

"Hm." He gave a hum, looking at her once more. "I'd say your pretty creative, Emmy, not even I could think of this."

"It only took me 20 years..." she managed to joke, tilting her head as he held the string open on the necklace he held. "What are you doing-"

She stopped as he reached forward, her face heating up as he simply rested the necklace around her own neck. She looked down as his hands traced the string, caressing the small gears before resting it against her chest.

"I think it suits you." Heisenberg chuckled, holding his hands to the side as if he had achieved something grand with slipping it on. Emelia couldn't help but give a light snort, keeping her eye on it.

"I suppose so..." she replied simply, her eye moving to the one she still held. She was quiet for a moment before taking a breath, doing the same with the second necklace.

She turned it and held it up to his head, opening the string. He was still as she managed to slip it around his own neck, nearly chuckling with amusement as she watched it rest against the necklaces he already wore. She took her hands away, tilting her head as she looked at it. It didn't look TOO odd against the other items...

"Suits you, too..." she said quietly, her hands resting along his chest. He nearly laughed.

"Well congratulations, your task is complete. I'll be damned." He snorted, finally setting his hands on her hips. "Good work."

"You're just saying that..." she chuckled, looking up at him. He shrugged.

"I mean it." He suddenly gave a genuine smile. One she could see in his eyes, and it made her breath catch in her throat. "Thank you, Emelia."

She couldn't help but return the smile, slowly wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. He returned the action, his arms surrounding her waist as he pressed his face to her shoulder.

"You're an odd one, Emmy." He nearly whispered.

She could feel his smile against her skin as she chuckled, resting her chin on his own shoulder.

"So are you, Heisenberg." She replied. "You're the oddest one of them all."

"Ah, I beg to differ." He chuckled, using his hand to raise the small scraps from before into the air again, twirling his finger slightly to make them circle the two slowly. Emelia kept her smile, turning her head to bury her face into his neck.

"Beg then, Metalhead."

"Hm." He hummed, pressing a light kiss to the side of her neck. "I think I will."

She lifted her head to question, only to let out a surprised yelp as he suddenly hoisted her over his shoulder.

"Karl!!!"

"Aht aht, no fighting!" He chimed, amused as she started to squirm before he began walking to the side door of the workshop. She only stopped squirming momentarily with a surprised laugh as he pinched her side.

"The bloody hell are you doing?!" She tried, unable to hide her own amusement as he kicked open the door and went down the small hall leading to the 'living quarters'.

"Guess this really does make you the 'lady' of the factory then, yeah?" He joked. She squirmed again, earning another pinch.

"Call- HEY- C-Call me a 'lady' again and see what happens...!!" She laughed, only to nearly stumble back as he suddenly heaved her down, holding into him to keep her balance. She was met with a quick kiss, keeping the smile on her face.

"Fine then, the 'wench' of the factory." He joked, letting out his own laugh as she smacked his shoulder.

"That's even worse you twit!"

"Ah, no need for that, Emmy!"

He nudged her forward, giving another quick kiss before she nearly fell over as the edge of the bed hit the back of her legs.

"Are you mad?!" She laughed, nearly falling back as he nudged her again. Instead she just flopped back, holding out her arms for him as he crawled over her with a chuckle.

"I was planning on taking a break anyway." He replied simply before falling to his side next to her. She chuckled as his arms suddenly went around her, bringing her tightly to his chest.

"I still have work to do!" She argued, though didn't actively try to get away. Instead, she cuddled to his chest as he snorted.

"Doesn't seem like you're all too concerned about it, Doll."

"Maybe because you're warmer than the Foundry."

"I'll take that at a compliment."

"As you should."

She couldn't help but relax in his arms, her gaze drifting to the gear necklace around his neck. It made her feel... proud. Proud and another feeling she couldn't quite pin down. She reached up and caressed it lightly, feeling as he looked down.

"You really like them...?" She asked quietly, only to jump as he cupped her chin and had her look at him.

"I love them." He replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Stay here for a while, we'll get back to work soon."

She was silent with a smile, nodding and nuzzling under his chin carefully before wrapping her own arm around him.

"Fine... I get to decide the next break time, then." She said. He chuckled.

"It's a deal."

#resident evil #resident evil village #re8 #resident evil oc #resident evil village oc #re8oc #resident evil village fanfiction #karl heisenberg #lord heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x oc #lovelywingsart #lovelywingsocs #Metalworks fanfiction #heisenberg fanfiction

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Text

I loved writing this idea, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Thanks for requesting @jawline-of-steel !💛💛

You Wanted To Talk To Me?

Edgar Frog x reader

Warnings: mentions of injury

A/N: this is heavily referenced to my other series, Only Traitors Consort With The Damned, which you can find on the masterlist.

Masterlist

"Man, just talk to her." Alan rolls his eyes as they stumble through the training course together, wet mud slicking their trousers and shirt fronts, hair and clothes soaked through from the pelting rain, bodies trembling from how hard they've been working.

"Talk to who?" Edgar responds, playing dumb as they throw themselves at a climbing wall, chests smashing painfully into the solid surface.

Neither if them speak for a minute as they haul themselves upwards, cresting the wall with some difficulty as their leaden arms struggle to hold their weight, their muscles screaming in protest, though they both manage it. From the top, the rest of the course is visible, a few other cadets just ahead of them, each of the pairs released from the starting point in "waves" so that they can be timed. Both of the boys sigh out audibly as they take in the view, not taking too much time as they swiftly climb to their feet and leap from the top, reaching for the heavy ropes hanging from a structure across from them, the rough material grazing their hands painfully as they slip down it a little. Ignoring the discomfort, they swing their legs in time with the momentum of the rope and kick off it, landing on a far platform, rolling as they land, ending up face first in yet more dirt, signifying the beginning of a net crawl.

"You know who I mean, Edgar. (Y/n)! You should talk to her." Alan manages to explain, voice strained from the exertion required to pull his body through thick mud.

"Why should I talk to her?" Edgar grits out, hands scrabbling frantically in the filth as he struggles to pull himself through this particular obstacle, glad to see the end if it not far out of sight.

"Because it's very obvious that you like her."

"I don't like her." The response is almost automatic, a reflex designed to protect his real feelings about their fellow trainee.

In truth, Edgar had had a crush on the girl for a good few months, having been interested in her as soon as he first laid eyes on her, nearly six months ago, when he and his brother signed up for the SRS. Neither of them had ever really thought about taking their vampire hunting that seriously, but this all changed when the dark-clad Soldiers converged on Santa Carla, their hometown, a couple of years ago, hunting down one of their own, who was seen as a traitor. The hooded men had come into the comic shop searching for some help, only to be confused by the Frog's zealous attitude and rough introduction to the supernatural side of the town, swiftly recognising potential in them. When their Hunt was over, the result of which they never found out, the men returned to the shop, offering to enlist them in the training program as soon as they turned the correct age, stating that the minimum age for joining the SRS is sixteen. Now at that age, the Frog brothers were quick to travel to New Orleans, where they found the headquarters and signed up, completing the theory section with flying colours before they moved onto the physically demanding practical side: hunting.

When they first started this stage, the two of them were easily overshadowed by some of the others in the group, despite already having four kills under their belts (so to speak), their smaller stature allowing some of the larger, physically stronger cadets to overtake them in the rankings, though it was much to their surprise when they found out one of the best was a girl named (Y/n). With a pretty much unknown backstory, the sixteen year old girl had shown up many of the other cadets, holding her own in many of the harder exercises, showing off her aptitude for shooting and fighting, flooring some of the most muscular rookies training with them with ease. It was no wonder Edgar developed a crush on her.

"Frog! I do hope you intend on moving soon, or you'll be stuck on clearing duty for a week!" A senior officer snaps at him from somewhere to his left, drawing him from his brief lapse into his head.

"Yes, ma'am!" He shouts back, knowing how they hate to be ignored.

"Get a move on!"

Gritting his teeth, Edgar follows his brother out onto the next stage - a variety of elevated logs providing bridges across a swampy areas of ground. In the pouring rain the logs have already become waterlogged, making them slippery and dangerous.

Approaching one, he leaps up and grabs the end of it, quickly heaving himself onto the narrow stretch of wood, catching his balance before he steadily steps along it, going with the incline as much as possible, biting his lip as his feet slip a little on the wood. Nearing the end of the log, he locates the closest one to it and jumps to it, landing shakily on the lifted end, repeating the process until he has safely crossed it, catching up to his brother as they run the last few kilometres across the marshy land, breathing heavily in the pouring rain. The finish line comes into view, the posts signifying its presence only just visible through the rain, the flags topping them slapping wetly against the poles they are attached to, concealing the familiar insignia of the SRS from view.

With one last push, Edgar and Alan throw themselves over the finish line, trying not to collapse in exhaustion as they quickly stretch out their stiffening muscles, neither of them saying a word until they've caught their breath back, going to stand with the other cadets who have already finished it.

"One hour, fourteen minutes and forty-three seconds. Not bad, Frogs, not bad." The drillmaster informs them as they get close, the two of them brightening up slightly at the sound of that; it's a new personal best.

"Nice one, you two." A familiar voice congratulates them, the two of them turning to find (Y/n) standing there, a genuine smile on her features, mud striping her cheeks like war paint, most likely the result of her team mate getting a little over-zealous on one of the obstacles.

"Thanks." Alan smiles back, looking to Edgar as he struggles to reply.

"Err, yeah, thanks, you did really well, too." He finally manages, blushing as he looks away, suddenly feeling very hot.

"Thank you." She acknowledges, making eye contact briefly before turning away, going back to her team mate.

"You're smitten." Alan rolls his eyes, looking over at his brother in exasperation.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Stop trying to hide it, Edgar, I'm your brother, I see all these things."

The drillmaster's words ring clearly in Edgar's head as he steps through the darkened corridors, making his way in and around broken furniture and piles of ceiling debris, his helmet limiting his vision greatly.

"Don't get caught off guard, or they'll have your ass for breakfast."

Of course, you'd hope that he was being metaphorical, but the cadets are all aware of one fact: he isn't. Not when they've all been tasked with clearing an abandoned hospital of the supernatural beings squatting there, particularly the wraithes and their carnivorous tendencies, most of which are to blame for the hospital's fall in the first place.

A piece of glass shattering behind him snaps him from his thoughts, the sound instilling a sense of fear into him as he slowly turns, freezing in place when he sees a shape in the hallway behind him. From where he is, he can't tell what it is, but he knows it won't hesitate to kill him, so he lifts the gun in his hands to shoulder level, cocking it gingerly, body shaking in fear. Aiming steadily, he let's the flashlight roam across the shape, only to let out a breath when he sees what, or rather who, it is.

"(Y/n)?!" He hisses out to her, surprised that she is in this part of the building.

"Edgar? Is that you?" Her voice floats back over to him, the cadet holding up a hand to shield her eyes from the bright light.

"Yeah, it's me. You found anything yet?" He responds, secretly pleased that she actually remembers his name.

"No. Have you?" She clarifies, coming over to him, her gun held comfortably over her abdomen as she stays prepared, ready to shoot anything dangerous.

"Not yet."

"That's good." She looks him in the eye, "I kinda wanted to talk to you, though this probably isn't the best time."

Edgar gazes at her, surprised at what she is saying, an eyebrow lifting under the visor of his protective helmet.

"You wanted to talk to me?" He asks, incredulous.

"Yeah, I do." She nods, looking away again, her fingers tapping nervously on the stock of the gun.

"What about?"

She is silent for a minute, before she takes a deep breath and responds, relaxing her shoulders as she tries to stay calm.

"I just wanted to tell you about how I feel about you. Edgar, I know this is weird because we don't really know each other, and you probably don't feel the same way, but I, well, I like you. A lot."

There is an awkward moment of quiet between us as he tries to figure out how to respond correctly.

"You...you like me?" He finally manages to ask, not quite believing what he heard before.

"Yeah, I do. I understand if you don't feel the same way, but I just thought you should know." (Y/n) explains, going to move past him, before he stops her with a hand on her arm.

"(Y/n), I've had a crush on you for the longest time, I just didn't know how to tell you." He informs her, waiting for a reaction.

"...really?"

"Yeah. Just ask my brother, he figured it out pretty quickly."

She smiles beneath her visor, clearly much happier now that the initial worry is over.

"I'm glad. Maybe when we get some free time, we could go on a date?" She suggests, adjusting her grip on the weapon.

Edgar smiles back at her.

"I'd like that."

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #Edgar frog #Alan frog #Edgar frog x reader #request #Edgar frog imagine

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magicalbuffalotransformerman · 2 years

Text

Steal Town UNDERTALE: Genocidal Brawl

[hey hey hey! welcome back to another post lmao. this story revolves around a specific thought i'd had about good ol' undertale. since i'm in the steal town discord, i decided to combine steal town and undertale. first, before we continue, you need some context. context a; the person i've put into chara's shoes, who goes by boo among other things, is in the process of defeating sans in its own genocide playthrough, so i thought it'd be fitting for boo to be chara. context b; i have decided to put myself as sans. the only reason for this being: idk. i guess i just pit my steal!-self against steal!boo too much. idk. anyways, context c; this is gonna be a different take on the sans v. chara brawl, steal!boo and steal!mike (guess i'll out my name why not lmao) are a deity of unknown design and a phantom, based on the soldier from tf2, respectively. finally: enjoy!]

[*So much dust on your hands. Invigorating. Check pockets?]

[YES] [NO]

[*Everything's right where you need it.]

[Boo enters the Judgement Hall with a wicked smile on its face. It brandishes a knife, cleaning it of blood and dust. *Time to add some ectoplasm to it. :) Boo looks up, and... it's not that lazybones this time.]

[he's got a wicked smile on his face as well. he's floating there. pockets in his hands, teeth sharper than knives in his mouth, no goddamn legs... seems he's muttering something under his breath.]

* . . .

[No dialogue. Unusual... especially for someone in Sans' position.]

[CHH-CHH-CHH-Bwooo.]

[No music, either...? What, did someone not finish this fight? What's happening here?]

[*Knock him down a peg. *Well... alright.]

[Boo takes a swing at Mike. Its knife doesn't do a damn thing, phasing through him.]

[A clock ticks in the background... every two seconds. Boo's unsettled by the ticking, but Mike seems right at home.]

[Boo swings again, believing that its knife didn't touch Mike the first time. It phases through again, as it has before.]

[mike seems to... chuckle?... under his breath. he grapples boo's soul, knocking him around with some green magic, and throwing him into a wall of green flames.]

[The ticking grows louder, and mildly faster.]

[no reaction from the phantom... this is eerie, to be sure.]

[Boo scratches its head with its knife. It's not sure how to react to this... indecisiveness? Is Mike refusing to fight for some reason?]

[ACT] -> [*Question]

*So... any reason you're just floating with no words, ghost?

[Green flames emerge from the panels in the floor with every one of Mike's wavering breaths.]

*... ... ... ...

*Ya grumpy, fancypants?

*... . . .

[the flames subside as mike regains his composure.]

*...w-hy.

[Boo shrugs its arms.]

*I got a smidgen bored.

[mike... to put it lightly, doesn't take this as truth.]

*so you... fucking, murder your friends? is that your idea of fun, britishman?

*Well, you do it all the time in that dumb boat game you play!

[mike rubs his face. his chuckling gets louder.]

*i just... don't understand you anymore... y'know?

[Boo attempts to stab Mike a third time. The knife doesn't interact with Mike a third time. Boo begins to get procedurally angry.]

[mike decides to put boo through his strongest attack first, sending his soul through a hellfire of buckshot and attempting to attack it with his hands.]

[Boo's SOUL gets hit by a couple of rounds of buckshot, but nothing else.]

*Keep up, old man!

[mike isn't sure what to come up with next. he settles on letting the green flames take their toll, tossing fireballs at boo's soul.]

[Boo, not expecting fireballs in a Sans fight, is taken offguard by SIX of them and takes... unexpectedly, 240 damage from them and is shattered for the first time, splattering blood onto Mike's face... somehow.]

*...

[mike wipes the blood off of his face, and considers another attack.]

[The ticking of the clock begins again, with Boo's second spawn. It immediately hurls itself at Mike in an eerily psychotic manner, trying to swing at him with its knife. None of the attacks hit.]

[the chuckling gets louder.]

*What's so funny, eh?

[mike sends a flurry of... tank shells in boo's general direction. seems that he's taken to the box of feral idiots to help him in this endeavor. a clever move.]

[Boo gets one-shot by the first shell.]

[the chuckling gets quieter.]

- - -

37. RESPAWNS. LATER.

yeah i know, i'm terrible at designing and describing attacks. i'm sorry.

- - -

[Boo makes it through Mike's final attack this run: a hellfire of tank shells, fireballs, actual fire pits, helicopter blades, bullets, shotgun buckshot, THE CLOWN's stop signs for some reason, and finally to top it all off: milfwife rockets. (mike said nothing between the cut and now.)]

[the chuckling has evolved into a breakdown of psychotic proportions. tears are flooding mike's cheeks, and his wide smile only grows stronger.]

[...eventually... he starts to calm down.]

[Boo takes advantage of this. As you would.]

[the maniacal flurry calms to a laughter...]

[...to a chuckle...]

[...to murmuring...]

[...and finally, to nothing, with mike's smile devolving into a frown and the tears subsiding briefly. his phantom body reveals a weakpoint: a human chest area. he falls asleep from the excitement.]

[Boo, seeing as Mike is re-enacting Sans's special attack, and vulnerable, takes this opportunity to drag the attack barrier over to his FIGHT button while Mike is calmed. He attacks, and...]

[he jolts to the left. Boo whiffs.]

*...did'j-

[Boo attacks again.]

[he jolts to the right. Boo whiffs again.]

*-a really think you could'a-

[Boo attacks a final time, out of anger and spite. The blow lands. 395294673407603486546565634564069854765605946854657846958609697560703680467809940654649999999999999999999999999999999993458940358904769854065940759406754675869903859749305893405979963459735634895634895793940589340567899347590983459083480599789340578934579342089034758999744356797684697489367893467897468957469089460578994969455465546164954596864526985466854246968064489546045426154655449695945999465426315460545461536919650456454561605456604954697045684675891675690017856670429640462950494625458164545 damage is dealt to Mike. (Way more than what Sans would've been given, that's for sure. Yes, I typed all of that.)]

[mike collapses to the ground.]

*...

[The clock continues to tick. mike gets back onto his feet.]

*... ... ...

[mike can't comprehend boo's cruelty. he runs his hands across his chest. the laughter picks up.]

[Boo attacks a fourth time, landing again and dealing the same amount of damage as previously typed. I'm not copypasting that, for both our sakes.]

[mike is silenced.]

* . . .

*Well?

*...

[he falls backwards. only able to think of his best friend.]

*...a... ax... h-elp... me...

[An especially long dusting sound effect is emitted from Mike's slowly dissolving body, lasting a total of 26 seconds. His souls nowhere to be seen, and no dust is left on the floor.]

[The clock is silent.]

*...

[With one last psychotic laugh, Boo heads for the throne room.]

#steal!boo the genocidal maniac my beloved #steal!mike the name reveal my detested #sans v. chara fight my enjoyed :)#BET YOU DIDN'T EXPECT THIS HUH BITCH [/lh]#I BET THE FUCK NOT >:)#not as long as i woulda wanted it to be but hey. i'm lazy. sans undertale. :)#seeya later

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lizzybeth1986 · 4 years

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I don't think you play TRR/TRH anymore but you should see what they did to Kiara in the newest chapter. It's so dumb and makes me so angry, especially considering the current climate of events. I've already seen people on Reddit be like "but we helped her overcome her trauma" (we didn't lol) and someone called her the c-word, very classy. Honestly PB's been low key racist in the past but all the stuff right now makes it high key...

(Apologies for the long post and not being able to place this under a cut)

I'm pretty glad I got these anons because truth be told I wasn't sure how many people - besides the few that I already knew were constantly speaking about Kiara's treatment in the books - would care enough to ask any questions about this. Most of the posts I saw expressed a disturbing eagerness to throw her under the bus, without exploring nuance or asking questions, and at this point I'm not very surprised.

I've always maintained that the treatment for Kiara is what happens when both the writers and the fandom are heartless, and these past few weeks have only been proof of that.

There are questions you could raise about this finale re: Kiara - questions almost no one seems to bother asking. I have three:

1. In this Coventus Nobilis...how is it that I see four Heads of House, and only one heir?

2. If Kiara - who is not head of house - is supposed to represent Castelserraillian instead of her father Hakim (who presides over that estate), why do I not see Madeleine? Why do I not see Penelope?

3. Why are we suddenly seeing Adeleide popping up out of practically nowhere to rep Krona/Fydelia, and Landon conveniently rep-ping Portavira?

Some of the answers to these questions lie in the questions themselves. Why else would Madeleine and Penelope not be present in this meeting - if it weren't to purposely distance them from this awful moment? After all, both of them have inbuilt subplots ready for the next book that would require interactions with the core group. How else do you think the writers could ensure we kept coddling them and pandering to them in Book 3, except by distancing them from this "betrayal"?

Why else would the narrative choose to pit Kiara - the lone woman of colour we'd been shitting on for most of this series - against Olivia - the white woman who has been given innumerable individual PoV scenes and her own mini-book (and whose reputation we had to help rebuild in said mini book whether we cared about her stupid duchy or not).

Why else would they force Kiara to alert us mere minutes before the meeting begin, if not to distract us with crumbs ("See? At least we wrote her as warning you. Of course we don't hate her!").

Why else would you have Olivia and Kiara pitted against each other like this - if not to show these two women side by side, on opposing ends - and compel us to believe that the white woman we spent 4.5 books propping up and pampering, is the most loyal one. When in fact we have done absolutely nothing to deserve any fucking loyalty from Kiara or her family to begin with! (Ezekiel and his white bride notwithstanding).

What we finally got as a result, was a narrative that (as @queen-of-effing-everything summed it up when I discussed this with her) in one full sweep "glorifies Olivia, shields Madeleine and Penelope and sets up Kiara". Very few of us even noticed. And even if we did notice, is there any guarantee that we would care??

Remember how I mentioned in my last ask that I wished we expanded the same energy that we did with Aurora, to speak up against the ill-treatment of other black characters? Kiara was undoubtedly one of those.

After this, we as a fandom will speak very easily now of her "betrayal". We will call her the b-word and the c-word. We will boast of how we will "take her down" along with Adeleide and Landon and Bartie Sr. We'll boast about how we "never liked her" to begin with, as if doing so required some...idk exemplary foresight. We will make memes about how Olivia was "the only bitch we ever respected". We will make huge, sweeping claims about how Kiara was our "friend" and how (as you've mentioned, anon) we "helped her overcome her trauma" (!!!!) and claim by that token that we were entitled to good treatment from her. I'm pretty sure when TRH3 finally comes out, her every word and action will be screenshot, put up on blogs, mocked and torn down just so we can write essays on how awful she is.

Yet I saw very little of this energy in Book 3, where the MC could first emotionally manipulate her into supporting the Unity Tour, and where we actively suspected her at a time when she was traumatized. At most there was some lukewarm acknowledgement of how she "deserves better", all while people still continued to write fanfic that positioned her as creepy and obsessed and villainous. Almost no one had a problem with Savannah not acknowledging Kiara's earlier support of her, and in fact I'd seen posts that clubbed her with the other ladies of the court who likely "treated Savannah badly". Her father Hakim was made to join the tour alongside her by default, without the expectations that Landon/Emmeline and Godfrey/Adeleide were allowed to have, and the fandom was mysteriously silent about Hakim being made to "bow to his knees" in a way the others did not have to. Very few people even bothered to notice or talk about how often Penelope was allowed to hold the MC's baby, or how Kiara was never really allowed to hold her even once. Which "friend" treats someone like this??

When I finally published this essay on the treatment meted out to Kiara especially in Book 3, what I got was a lot of neat, but ultimately hollow, little platitudes about how Kiara "deserved better" (How and in what way? Who knows, who cares). Out of those many many people who reblogged and responded, only a handful held the MC and Drake in particular (and Maxwell, who thought it appropriate to joke about "one suspect down") accountable for choosing to suspect and interrogate just her, and for showing ZERO remorse in forcing her to reopen those wounds. How is it that we can judge Kiara for this latest "betrayal", yet pretend that the MC and Drake had nothing to do with the pain THEY caused to her? How is it that this fandom was so fired up over her comments, yet would have such a weak, muted, carefully-generalized response to the screenshots where Drake was openly suspecting her and optionally minimizing her trauma?

Following that, why should we be entitled to good treatment from Kiara when we never really gave her even half as much?? Why is it so easy to divorce characters from their words and actions in Drake/MC/Maxwell's case, but so hard for a character like Kiara? (One may claim this is because Drake and Maxwell are potential co-protagonists, but the aforementioned essay already proves that you as a main character can get punished for not treating a mere side character with kindness).

Another thing that fascinates and repulses me even further is how the fandom has created myths around this one character, and how PB has constantly leaned into these "characteristics" even though the text itself tells an altogether different story:

1. Kiara is a snob. This is especially hilarious considering that she is established in Book 2 as being the only person who befriended Savannah before her departure and cared about what happened to her when she left. Never once in the books has she looked down on us for class-related issues, or outright mocked people for not knowing the languages she knew. In fact, she was the first person to acknowledge our skills if we showed any before Lythikos in Book 1. On the other hand, Penelope can be uppity and look down on us in Book 1 (there is even a dialogue option in Chapter 10 that leads to her calling us a "commoner wench") if we don't do well, and yet she's a cinnamon roll. Olivia can engage in snobbish , entitled behaviour without the fandom having a problem just because she's their favourite. Madeleine can look down on us and pretend for 3/4ths of the social season that we're not worth her time yet somehow Kiara is the snob. Okay. Okay. 😐

2. Kiara is "obsessed with" Drake and constantly comes on to him. This is said by the same group of people who saw Olivia fucking Nevrakis plant a WHOLE FUCKING SMACKER on Liam's mouth, and said..nothing. Kiara on the other hand, has admired Drake's abs once, mentioned she'd always liked Drake once, spoken normally to him about his sister once, flirted with him once (Paris tea party), and ordered a wine from him when he was bartending. In the next book she either looks at him wistfully or admires his suit. Yet somehow she's the creepy, annoying, stalkerish. Okay. Ooookay. 😑

(This one was particularly damaging, because post the TRR3 hiatus, all efforts from PB were focused on reversing Kiara's position as an alternative LI. This included "confirming" on livestream that her affections were one-sided, at a time when Olivia was finally allowed to have some romantic moments with a single Liam, pushing forward a buildup scene to Drake's eventual secret wedding that had him acting extremely rude and confrontational to Kiara mere minutes after suspecting her (while she was expressing joy at his upcoming wedding in his playthrough!!!), and involving a subplot where he openly and by default suspected her. Sure, he spends a minute to be nice to her and chat about trauma if the MC chooses. But that's like a drop of sewage water floating in an ocean of shit).

3. Kiara Pretended to Be Our Friend And Then Dropped Us: This is false. Kiara only ever promised to put in a good word for us to the rest of the court, no more, no less. And she fulfilled that promise. Otherwise she never pretended to be friends with us nor made friendly overtures either way. In fact if you're going to accuse anyone of duplicity, you have Penelope and Madeleine. Yet somehow Kiara is the dishonest one. Okay. Okay. 🙃

4. Kiara Was Insensitive To Penelope and Didn't Understand Her. I'm not sure how Kiara is supposed to magically understand something that her friend isn't telling her. Plus this argument deliberately leaves out the fact that she stood up for Penelope when people chose to be mean to her, and even explained to the MC that she employs "tough love" because she can't always be around to protect Penelope. It also leaves out how one-sided this friendship is and how Kiara is made to do most of the heavy work in this friendship. Meanwhile, at Kiara's most difficult time period, in Castelserraillian, Penelope says absolutely nothing as the MC forces Kiara to join the Unity Tour, while making bedroom eyes at Kiara's brother. In fact the only reason Kiara's brother even exists is to give Penelope a love interest. The Kiara-Penelope friendship practically revolves around Penelope. I have never really seen Penelope look out for Kiara or attempt to actually support her in any way, and Kiara was the one who got the knife wounds. Yet somehow I'm supposed to believe that Penelope's the better friend of the two. Suuuuure. 😡

And this steaming pile of crap doesn't just make its way into shitposts and short opinion posts. It creeps into fanfic and fandom opinions. It finds its way in the tags and in other social media. It eventually even finds its way into the books, even though nothing in the earlier narrative ever really supported these extremely stale takes.

Because PB didn't care for Kiara the way they cared for their white characters, they had no problem framing her narrative the way this fandom so desparately wanted it. Book 3 has the MC claim behind her back that Kiara is stuck-up and acts like knowing ten languages makes her better than everybody else, even though this is not backed up by the text, and in fact you will never see any acknowledgement of how Madeleine forced Kiara to make herself sound "exotic" in Book 2, or of how Madeleine and the MC (optionally) could downplay or question her skills unless they wanted to use her. Also, Penelope is never allowed to be talked about like that no matter what she's done. PB even had a scene (in the Hana playthrough) where they aggressively retconned the events of Madeleine's bachelorette party, where Kiara supposedly shouted at Penelope until the latter cried, and Madeleine was the one "having fun". Kiara was literally being thrown under the bus to make Madeleine look better. Madeleine. Imagine that. Madeleine.

Given how desparate the fandom was to nitpick and overdramatize everything Kiara said and did, is it any wonder that the team got away with the writing they gave her in Book 3? Considering that all the false arguments I stated above have made a resurgence in the past few weeks or days...is it any wonder that the only "support" this fandom is capable of re: Kiara, is lukewarm platitudes, cold takes and rank hypocrisy??

Yes, we can hold PB solely/largely accountable for the treatment meted out to Kiara now. They made these choices over and over, and continue to do so, while tossing us occasional crumbs of faux-sweet behaviour from the MC. And they did this in insidious ways, which were so hard to catch that even a Kiara stan like me had to observe multiple playthroughs just to unravel even half of what they'd done.

But let's not pretend a huge chunk of the fandom was just as responsible for this - with their unfounded opinions, their disgusting bias, their favouritism of white characters, their refusal to observe anything besides their favourites, and their godawful fanfiction where Kiara is a creep or evil or killing the virtuous main character. Out of the huge body of fanwork that I've seen for TRR that features Kiara - at least 90% of it features her stalking Drake, or harming the MC (particularly the Drake MC), or in cahoots with the villains, or generally being referred to as a creep (why Olivia, who kissed Liam without his consent in Book 1 and was entitled enough to be angry about him not returning her feelings in TRH1, never got this sort of writing - I fail to understand). There is a tremendous gap between the vitriol dumped on her when she does something the MC doesn't like, and the milquetoast response when harm is done to her. There have been times when I've had to comb through pages and pages of hate just to read even one positive post on Kiara in her own goddamn tag.

When the next book arrives, I know you folks will continue to gas up the white women in this book every chance you get, and mask your racist vitriol for characters like Kiara (and Hana, let's not forget the way y'all treat Hana) behind the same self-righteous judgements and the same tired, stale takes. I know that PB - despite what I will still believe is their hollow promises today - will write every single one of those stale takes into existence. All because it will be "justified", because Kiara is a "bad person" or "untrustworthy" or "fake". Whatever. Y'all can stick to Olivia The Black Hole and babysit Madeleine and Penelope, I guess. Kiara always deserved better than these writers and most of this fandom anyway.

#long post #kiara theron #the royal romance #the royal heir #trr kiara #lady kiara #i'm sorry kiki we didn't deserve you #i chose not to play trh2 and that's because this is EXACTLY what i felt would happen after they tossed us those crumbs in the book 1 finale

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dat2ndaccount97 · 3 years

Text

Helen V. Griffith Doll book Duology Review

For Preference I don't do a lot of Novel/Chapter Book reading these days, just mainly Comics, and don't do book reviews like this either But this ended up being so weirdly personal by the end that I decided to talk about these (This post is a bit of a long one)

So Recently I started Browsing the Library on the Internet Archive which has 1000s of books you can borrow free of charge for an hour, I've mainly been skimming through Barbie books then switched the search to doll books. Then the cover to the book "Caitlin's Doll" Caught my eye. It's so rare to see a Work of fiction dealing with/centered around a doll where the doll is a Proper Barbie Like Fashion doll and not a porcelain or raggedy Anne Type doll as they usually are.

So I read the Description and got intrigued enough to borrow the book and give it a read. Caitlin's Doll Trouble (also known as Caitlin's Holiday with different cover art) Is a pretty short read ay 90 ish pages. It's about a Girl Named Caitlin, who has a barbie like doll named Jodi, and is on her way to play dolls with her friends when she stops at a resale shop and sees a Beautiful doll and a box full of clothes. She's so smitten with the doll, and sees an old lady that looks like she's gonna buy her, and "Trades" Jodi for the new doll without a thought. It then turns out the Doll, named holiday. is alive, and is Kind of a B*tch. She's mad at Caitlin for leaving her nice clothes at the shop. t also turned out the old lady is the grandma of one Caitlin's friends, and Jodi is now in her friend's possesion (now named Wendi by her friend), along with Holiday's cltohes that Holiday really wants back (and tries to steal back)

The rest of the story deals with Caitlin dealing with the fact that her doll is alive, her and Holiday warming up to each other, and Caitlin owning up to how she got holiday in the first place. It's a nice little read with a rather abrupt and open ended ending. I thought that was that and kept browsing when I decided to look this book up, and found out there was a sequel called Doll Trouble.

Doll Trouble deals with Caitlin and Jodi, after finally becoming good friends by the end of book 1, going through a rough patch as Caitlin is starting miss jodi leading holiday to get jealous, and what looks like Holiday stealing her old clothes back again, leading Caitlin to get Mad, Though she claims jodi is the one doing it. There's Some surprising reveals, a hint of magic, and another abrupt ending where everything works out so it's kinda satisfying. This book is slightly longer at 125 pages.

Overall these are fun little stories. Anyways the reason this is somewhat personal to me is 2 fold. One is that this kinda scratches that itch for "Toy Story but with barbies", kinda. It's a step in the right direction for that idea.

The other one is that during college when I had my previous phone I had a diary app. I mainly used it to vent, type down how I was feeling about something, sometimes talk about weird dreams or interesting ideas I had. One of Said Ideas was for an anime. The story was a Guy Who collects dolls (a Self inset lmao) Gets a green haired anime doll named Yuni Chan while on vacation in japan. When he gets back home it later turns out the Doll is alive. And After talking and getting to know each other for a few hours they start to become friends. He has to put her away quickly so his folks don't know he has dolls.

The 1st season dealt with their him dealing with the fact that he has a doll that's alive in addition to his collection, His School and home life, Their Friendship that later turns into a possible romance which the guy says wouldn't work because A. She's a doll and that wouldn't work on top of being VERY weird, and B. He has a cursh on a girl at school, Eventually Yuni Chan Starts Telling the guy another one if his dolls (a stand in for Anna from Frozen) is also alive, and he doesn't believe Yuni Chan at first but is later revealed she was right. I also put down ideas for later plotlines like him getting with the girl from school and Yuni Chan Becoming a real Girl for Brief Periods of time. It was just a dumb idea floating around in my head at the time I decided to jot down. That phone died so I don't have access to this anymore but I still remember a lot of this.

So yeah it was very weird and surreal seeing a kids book coincidentally have some of the same ideas I had for a dumb anime I thought up one night. Also again It was nice to see a doll related Piece of Fiction deal with a Barbie like doll, that almost Never Happens, and I hope it happens more often

#Caitlin's Doll #Caitlin's Holiday #Doll Trouble #Dolls in Books #Helen V. Griffith #Doll Stories #Anime Idea #book review

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jackofalltrades17 · 2 years

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I know I usually post dumb shit but occasionally a serious thought does float into my head. Tonight we're discussing religion, specifically Christianity because that's what I've grown up with pretty much since I was born. Like serious Christians. Go to church every Sunday and Wednesday night. Pray before every meal. Bring up Jesus in every conversation. If anything remotely good happens say "That's the Lord working through us." or if someone dies "They're up there walking with Jesus now." Alcohol is horrible. No Cursing. Live. Laugh. Love. Don't forget your manners. Respect the elderly.

But I've come to realize that that may be a little wrong. I don't think I believe in *Christian* God anymore. I think there is a good possibility that there is a God. Because all the atoms at the beginning had to come from somewhere. One of the laws of physics is energy can not be created nor destroyed but how did the energy come to be in the first place.

However I don't think it like the involved god that Christianity paints. I think it'd be more equivalent to a person playing a simulation/sandbox game where they start everything off. Make up a few rules put some people in a specific spot and watch it run, making little adjustments along the way. I don't think that god knows exactly what's going to happen. Or it's set in stone. I think everyone's future is constantly changing. Every choice you make changes your's and everyone around you's future. That's why we are able to make choices. Frankly I'm not even sure god is a man. God could just be a cosmic being with no gender or a cosmic being with all genders.

I think the main thing is I don't believe in the Bible. Example: the parameters for Noah's Ark are so exact and it seems so incredible ridiculous that they stayed the same throughout thousands of years. And if this can be false than what else could be. 2nd example: In one particular verse of the Bible in which it says something along the lines of "homosexuality is bad" (obviously that is not a direct quote) but it was previously along the lines of "a man shall not sleep with a child" basically saying "don't be a pedo" but was changed sometime in the last 500 years due to selfish reasons because humanity is the worst. I'm not saying that all miracles were fake. But a few of them can be explained with knowledge that had not been discovered until modern times. The Red Sea parting for instance. Researchers/experts have speculated that they actually crossed the Reed Sea. And there is a special phenomenon involving high-speed winds. Or the water to wine thing. Plexiglass. But seriously there is a thing called the assassin's tea pot where you can pour two different liquids through the same tea pot. It functions differently than what it would take to do a whole barrel of it but it would be possible.

Also not exactly debunking anything for whatever but there is no way that Heaven is a good thing. Heaven according to the Bible is a perfect place without pain. With gold roads and basically everyone gets there own mansion. That's sounds like a hella boring world. No releases of dopamine to relieve stress because there is no stress. You don't get the sweet release of sitting down after a long day because there is no pain. And living becomes dull. You don't see those things in life because they are a natural function. It's reminiscent of the ending of the Good Place.

I also want you to know that I was watching Family Guy while writing this so maybe don't take me too seriously. What do I know I'm only 15. Also take everything I've said with a grain of salt because most of my information I just remember from episodes on Discovery and stuff I somehow remember from Tumblr posts screen shotted and posted to Pinterest back from the days when I was only allowed to be on Pinterest. I also am aware that some people couldn't give a shit about religion and have already discovered this or never believed this.

Sorry for the rant I just really needed to vent to somebody.

#deconstruction #religion #Christian #Christianity #god #Jesus #Heaven #heaven and hell #noah's ark #long post

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fullofleaves · 6 years

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Hi! I've been a huge fan of your work for years now. :) I think you're one of the authors who understand the depth and complexity of Loki's character the most, and you have such an amazing way of portraying both his strong and vulnerable aspects in your stories. I was just wondering if you've seen Ragnarok and if you have some time, would you be willing to share with us your honest thoughts about it? (Particularly about Loki's character development from the first two Thor films to this one?)

Yoooo sorry for taking forever to answer this, but the true fact is I had to go see Ragarok again to formulate a proper answer. But, wow, thank you so much! I really love Loki’s character, and spend probably Way Too Much Time thinking about him, so this is a great question.

Anyway. HAVE I SEEN RAGNAROK. Short answer: YES. Longer answer: YES I HAVE SEEN IT THREE TIMES NOW AND NEED TO GO AGAIN AT SOME POINT. It’s a very important movie to me, given my love of A) Loki, B) Loki being stuck in absolutely stupid situations, and C) Thor throwing stuff at Loki’s head. That said, it had a couple details didn’t love so much, but overall it was exactly the kind of shit I’m in to. I mean like… you’ve read the crap I write so you could have probably guessed that already. I live for Loki’s suspicious relationship with the Grandmaster and the orgy ship and everyone saying the word anus a few too many times and Bruce complaining about Tony’s tight pants. And the play. Sweet Jesus, the play. A+ material. A+.

But Loki’s character. There’s so much that could be said here, and I’ve seen a lot of really good meta floating around already, so I’m going to stick to a couple key points.

I really like this version of Loki? And I think it’s a good direction for his character to go. In the first Thor movie you had him starting off as a mischievous character but not really “evil”, until everything in his world went to hell and he kind of lost his shit. In Avengers, well, he’s Full Evil, killing people for funzies and generally fucking everything up. In Dark world, I don’t think he actually repented at all sitting locked away in prison… until Frigga’s death. This is the first time his actions have had a real consequence for him, and you can see the change it makes when he fights alongside Thor. And now here I feel like he has, in some ways, almost come back to who he was in the beginning.

He’s not Evil. He didn’t kill Odin when he easily could have. As “Odin”, he didn’t kill Thor or have him banished or send him off on a death sentence of a quest, or even try to do anything like that. It’s implied he just kept encouraging Thor to stay away from Asgard, giving him space to build ridiculous statues of himself and commission bad theater. He’s Loki of Asgard again, but like… a more confident, evolved version. He’s been through actual hell with the Chitauri, did the whole supervillain thing, and now he’s just hanging around pulling the greatest con Asgard has ever seen by pretending to be king. He didn’t even kill Heimdall, who probably saw right through his illusion. Just discredited him and sent him on his way. The point is: no more killing (at least of anybody more important than a random alien lackey or undead soldier) and his leadership of Asgard is more IDGAF than villainous. Like if anybody noticed anything weird, they probably attributed it to Odin going off the deep end after Frigga’s death, not “we’re obviously being conned by an evil mastermind”.

Side note: this whole Odin charade would have been going on for several years by the time Thor finally outed him. I think it’s possible that by this time, on some level, he was almost relieved to be caught. It looks like he’d been pushing things further and further to see how much dumb shit he could get away with, tempting fate. He doesn’t seem that upset at the big reveal, so obviously kingship of Asgard wasn’t a critical position for him. He was just doing it for the lulz and basking in his own successful scheme.

And then they go to Earth to pick up Odin, and I think this is really Loki’s first wake-up call in the movie. He had to have been expecting either Odin to still be under his enchantment (and Thor will kick his ass), or for Odin to retaliate in some way (as Odin is famous for doing). In either case, he would have been mentally preparing himself for a confrontation. That doesn’t happen. Odin accepts and forgives him, which throws his whole balance completely off. Is he reassessing all of his life choices that led up to this moment and rethinking his entire worldview? Probably not. But he has to, at the very least, feel kind of shitty. You can see that in how he stays absolutely silent throughout the entire scene. Not even a single word of argument or a weak attempt to explain himself. It’s Loki’s special brand of remorse. You know: the kind where you don’t have to apologize (and probably get mad when somebody tries to talk to you about it.)

Now for the next wake-up call, let’s consider that Loki landed on Sakaar weeks before Thor did. And because he was kicked out of the Bifrost beam first, he had no idea how the fight between Thor and Hela ended. Did Thor win? Who knows? From his vantage point, it looked like Hela was pretty savage and had a good chance at coming out ahead. He had to consider the very real possibility that Thor was dead or otherwise out of the way. And you’d think that somebody who professed to have such a desire to sit on the throne would do anything to find his way back to Asgard to see WTF was going on, but… he didn’t. He stayed where he landed. I’m still trying to figure out his motivation behind this choice. Waiting for the right opportunity? Maybe. But if he’d already stolen the security codes, what was stopping him from leaving? I think it’s more likely that he’d given up (at least for the time being) and decided this was is life now. It was his fault Odin died and Hela was released. His fault Thor could very well be dead and Asgard destroyed. Add Frigga’s death on top of that and I’m thinking he’s decided at this point that Asgard is better off without him.

And you can see this in the infamous elevator scene. Loki mentions wanting to stay on Sakaar, in what’s pretty obviously a setup for Thor to say “oh no brother you are way too important to me, we must stay together”. And then he’d grudgingly agree. Instead, Thor’s like “YEP, THIS HELLHOLE SURE IS PERFECT FOR A SACK OF DICKS LIKE YOU, LMAO.” He asks if Thor really thinks so little of him, when he has to think so little of himself. It’s kind of a crushing blow to hear that Thor agrees.

My opinion? Loki wouldn’t have tried to betray Thor in the following scene if Thor had given him the answer and brotherly love he was looking for. Like, he would’ve betrayed Thor eventually, because that’s what he does, but it’d probably be more like “Hey Thor now that we’ve saved Asgard, how about you go off and restore peace to the realms while I stay behind and definitely do nothing to undermine your authority and usurp power again”. He knows Thor’s the only one who has a chance at defeating Hela, so it’s in his best interest to stay on that side of the equation. It’s only when Thor turns him down that his Lokiness gets the better of him and decides to turn Thor in for the bounty and go his own way.

So why does he go back to Asgard? Spite, probably. I don’t think he ever specifically wants to be GOOD, per se. He’ll always have a massive chip on his shoulder that’s giving him an excuse to be a stupid shit and ruin stuff for everyone, especially himself. But I do think, at certain points, he has wanted to ACT good. He wants to step up and do what’s right, either to prove something to himself (ie, killing Laufey) or to prove something to Thor (ie, showing up out of the mist with a giant spaceship to save the day). That struck me as a real “you betrayed me but now I’m helping you, don’t you feel bad?” move.

Okay. So. Where does Loki’s character end up after all this? Well there’s this really great post I’ve seen going around about how the existence of Hela helps him realize that, shit, maybe he’s not a Bad Guy. Because if Odin’s own blood daughter can turn out that spectacularly fucked up, his own problems and hangups and crimes seem kind of paltry in comparison. And I agree with this 100%. Compared to Hela, he’s small potatoes. Hela is now officially the Worst Child Ever and this has to make him feel better about himself. It has to. Before, Thor would probably complain to his friends about how terrible Loki was (in fact, he does just this when telling the snake story), but now? Now Thor can complain to Loki about how terrible Hela is. And Loki can be like, “Wow, yeah, she’s just off the fucking charts with Evilness.” And then they bond with a fistbump, or whatever.

ANYWAY, the point of all this is…? Loki goes through a lot in this movie, but I think he ends up in the right place. I mean, obviously not geographically, because they’re about to be screwed up the ass by Thanos (I assume). But he’s had a four-movie arc now, bouncing all over the place in terms of motivation and emotion, and it seems like he’s kind of… settled now? He’s back where he started, at Thor’s side, but after all he’s been through I think he now has a better handle on what he wants for himself and where he thinks he belongs, as opposed to what others tell him he wants and where they say he belongs. Maybe it’s just me wanting to see what I want to see, but he comes across as a character who’s more comfortable with himself. Especially compared to the Loki who was lashing out so much in earlier movies. He’s had his rebellious phase. Now it’s time to start over rebuilding his relationship with his brother.

#asks #ragnarok - loki

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