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waheelawhisperer · 2 years

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Somewhat inspired by the whislash post.

Whats your ranking for operators you are most definetely absouletely not horny about?

Thou art a fool in truth, for thou hast sought forbidden knowledge, locked far beyond thy ken, and in thine folly thou hast unleashed forces that are best kept sealed away, and the desolation that thy words and deeds hath wrought upon the land can be redeemed only through cleansing flame, or perhaps a great deluge, that might yet scourge away the impurities left by the vile touch of what is absolutely not mine carnal lust.

Oh, boy. I had to think about this one for a bit. Not to figure out who I should rank, but to figure out precisely where they belong. Fortunately, there's a cool sorter tool here that helped me out a bit.

I'll be ranking the operators based solely on the primary factors that would never, ever make a good Christian boy like me horny in any way, which means things like appearance, voice, personality, characterization, etc. will be important, while I'll mostly pass over things like gameplay value or role in the narrative unless they somehow tie in with the other factors I mentioned. I'll also only be ranking playable operators, because that's what the question asked for and this will probably be long enough as it is.

Nearl: Margaret Nearl tops (heh) this list because there is absolutely no way anything about a tall assertive busty blonde onee-san-type with a kind and caring personality, the resolve to fight for her cause despite all the opposition, a deep, sexy voice, and the combat skills to tear armed men apart with her bare hands could ever make a pure young man like me want to dick her down on my kitchen table.

Siege: Siege was actually the reason I got into Arknights. One of my friends baited me in by calling her Saber Lion, which worked well enough that I rerolled like 20 times for her. She was my first pot 6 operator, my first E2, and my first M9 90. She was first on my list for the longest time as well, but then Hypergryph released Near Light and Lowlight personally flew to Texas to hit me in the face with the "HORSE HOT" stick and then continued beating the shit out of me while I lay on the ground in agony. I like Siege for reasons similar to Margaret, but she also comes with a punk aesthetic and that deliciously wild and messy ponytail. Her operator files describe her combat style as "fierce and sometimes reckless", which is nice because feral women make my neurons activate. I will never accept "Vina" over "Verna" as the official translation of her name, though. Fuckin Altria shit all over again.

Schwarz: If I were the type of filthy degenerate who wanted to be dominated by a woman (I am, of course, not a degenerate of any type), Schwarz would be very high on my list of candidates. I like her voice, her outfits, her color scheme, those golden eyes that pierce right through me, the cold, stoic personality with just a hint of warmth and kindness that can be drawn out if you put in the work and dig deep enough... Also, she's a total badass who can take on dudes like Hellagur. I like badasses, and I was a big fan of her scenes in her event and the Rainbow 6 crossover.

Gladiia: Tall fish mommy tall fish mommy tall fish mommy tall fish mommy. Lady Maria is my favorite Bloodborne Character and Gladiia is basically Fish Maria, so like... she was a hit the moment I saw her design. I want her to lecture me for my mistakes and then praise me when I fix them. Tall, regal, warrior-types utterly destroy me.

Hoshiguma: In awe at the size of this lass. As a proud short king, I feel a natural attraction to tall queens, and Hoshi is as tall as tall queens get in Arknights. She also has sick abs, a huge rack, a nice voice, a kind, caring, laid-back personality that nonetheless does not prevent her from fucking people up when given sufficient reason to, and one of my favorite aesthetics in Arknights. As I am not a pathetic wretch tormented by unholy lusts, women in leather (and particularly leather pants and jackets) have no effect on me whatsoever, but I admit that I appreciate Hoshiguma's looks regardless. Also, women on motorcycles are very, very cool. Being a cop is an unfortunate downside, but I'm willing to graciously look past that.

Skadi: Didi Didi Didi Didi Didi! Long, flowing hair, a nice hat, nicer booba, and deep care for others hidden behind a stoic exterior make Skadi very appealing. A great shortcut to getting me to like a character is giving them a cool hat, and the Abyssal Hunters deliver in spades. I also really like her no thoughts head empty approach to life, it has some great comedy moments. Skadi's not stupid, she's just so freaking good at violence that she defaults to it even when it's not the ideal solution to a problem.

Whislash: I WANNA BE IN THE CAVALRY WHEN THEY SEND ME OFF TO WAR! Margaret edges out her Auntie because something about her Guard form's art makes her look incredibly handsome and I like her personality more, but Whislash is still great - busty blonde onee-san-type with an assertive personality that's really sweet underneath it all. I wonder if y'all have figured out how I feel about strong women yet. Sadly, she lacks her niece's healing Arts, meaning that unlike Margaret, once she claws my back to shreds, she can't just fix it up. Alas.

Blaze: Tall busty boisterous onee-san-type, likes fighting and drinking and having lots of fun. I'm shy and introverted and not particularly socially adept, so someone willing to coax me out of my shell and help me get out of my comfort zone in ways I wouldn't normally is automatically attractive. On top of that, Blaze is a sweetie and very dedicated to making the world a better place for the Infected, and I love that kind of conviction and drive.

Saria: Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry. Like Schwarz but less gentle, somehow. Funnily enough, Saria didn't quite slam me in the face with her attractiveness until her Law skin released and hammered me directly in my weakness for military/pseudomilitary uniforms. Nice voice, same type of kindness hidden beneath coldness as several others on this list, HUGE dommy mommy vibes, and incredible combat skill would make my heart beat faster if I were the type of disgusting pig who felt those sorts of things.

Gavial: I don't know what it is, but I've always thought that Gavial's art is really pretty, to the point that I was more excited about getting her than I was about getting a Medic that wasn't Hibiscus when I got her from the credit shop, and then the Great Chief Returns event decided to make the croc hotter. I like her voice, thin tails are the best, and I am very appreciative of sporty girls. It's hard to get sportier than Miss "I will defeat Nian in a rock climbing contest to get her medical data" Gavial.

Bagpipe: Bagpipe was pretty enough as it was, but then her race queen skin dropped and she somehow got hotter. I am very weak to dragon girls, even more so if they have big boobs and super strength, and the combination of Bagpipe's codename and her origins as a farm girl is a wellspring of innuendo and double entendre. Truly a gift to the type of man I most certainly am not. As a bonus, the fact that she grew up a country girl means she's likely to be aroused instead of weirded out when I tell her about my massive gun collection (women are frequently aroused when I talk, of course, but somehow they don't usually respond positively to information about my extensive home armory or the survivalist compound I built in the Texas backcountry) and enjoy driving down dirt roads in my lifted pickup truck (complete with truck nuts!).

Ch'en: Honestly, I thought Ch'en was a bit of a bitch early on, but she got some really fantastic character depth and development that took her from unironically annoying to someone whose scolding would give me an erection if I had not transcended beyond the need for such things through the power of prayer and meditation. Female Tourist C's design was fantastic and I think it's really funny that Miss Super Serious Police Lady has always gone around in short shorts. It's like her power level goes down if her thighs are covered... not that I'm complaining. While her Sniper form's E2 art does make her look a bit like bluer Blaze, she still looks fantastic and I'm a huge fan of the way Arknights has portrayed her character growth and struggles. Great voice, too. Mmm... Wanna pull her hair. Just a little.

Texas: Wolfgirls make me howl, or would if I were susceptible to desire. Wolves have always been my favorite animal, and I'm also a pretty big fan of girls, so combining the two is a recipe for success. I like Texas in particular both because of her name and because she's really, really pretty. I love the red undertones or whatever they are in her hair in her E2 art. Also, they just gave her a skin that made her hotter.

Indra: Feral punchtiger. Love the fact that they weren't afraid to give her scars. She's a warrior through and through. Strong, tough, confident, fantastic aesthetic, incredibly loyal and loving (to the point where her profile states that she exemplifies the spirit of chivalry better than many of the actual knights of Kazimierz), friendly and affectionate... Yeah, Indra's great. So is her voice.

Lappland: Also feral and wild. Good voice, skilled in combat, nice aesthetic. Really interested in learning about her backstory with Texas. I want her to bite me. I want to bite her back.

Meteorite: Tall, blonde, busty... Have y'all figured out my type yet? She also looks really, really gorgeous in her skin's art.

Horn: Blonde Blaze and also a wolfgirl. If I hadn't previously attained full control over my flesh cage's hormones, she would send them into overdrive. Awoo.

Mostima: I have a hard time explaining why I like Mostima so much, to be honest. To start with, she's gorgeous. I also like seeing the way her relationship with the Doctor develops in her talk lines. I am very fond of slowly thawing ice queens.

Surtr: I like redheads. I like them a lot. Unfortunately, Surtr is carried almost purely by her design, because her personality and characterization isn't much to write home about. Luckily for her, being a redheaded devil girl gains her a lot of ground as it is.

Mudrock: She's six feet tall and jacked, idc what her profile says. She's very pretty, but also very weird. Since I'm also a bit of a weirdo, I have a soft spot for her, and I respect the hell out of her commitment to fighting for the Infected.

Saileach: Based on everything else I've said so far, I have absolutely no idea why Dragon Jeanne D'Arc would appeal to me. None whatsoever. /s

Provence: Wolfgirl with a sweet personality, 2 nice skins, and a big fluffy tail. Her environmentalist convictions make a very interesting character trait since that's an important issue to me as well. She also likes cleaning, apparently, which is great because I fucking hate cleaning but am happy to do other things like cook and carry shopping bags on Provence's frequent shopping trips.

Specter: Feral shark. Provides emotional support and also buzzsaw. Has nice tits and a nicer hat. I love the way her sane version is so boisterous and ready for a brawl. Not the biggest fan of her canonical foul mouth because I was taught not to ever, ever curse as a child (guess how well that worked) and still have an involuntary emotional reaction to being bombarded with profanity. Still think Specter's great though, and is absolutely the fun kind of unhinged.

Franka: Franka be thicc. She's cute, fun-loving, and one of the better parts of the early story chapters.

Liskarm: Also one of the better parts of the early story chapters. Liskarm is cute and I like her dynamic with Franka.

Swire: Endearing rich dork. Swire is very pretty and a sweetie at heart. I'm a sucker for her stockings.

Gitano: Pretty deer pretty deer pretty deer. She was one of my early casters and I have a certain fondness for her, and also just think she looks fantastic in her art.

Dobermann: Tough, stoic hardass instructor who nevertheless cares deeply, who will push me to be my best without ever pushing me beyond my limits? Yes, please. Also, she has a whip, shows her midriff, and her skin would make me want her to step on me even more if I were into that sort of thing. Tl;dr I'm gonna make Dobermann a Dobermomm.

Gravel: Very cute, would kill for me, and gives kissies. What else could I need?

W: Great tits, gives off serious "dommy mommy" vibes and equally serious "obnoxious little shit that needs to be put in her place" vibes. Schrodinger's Sarkaz.

Meteor: Horse MILF with nice abs. Very pretty.

Shining: Demon MILF with nice tits. Very pretty. Also love the way she's a total badass and yet has chosen to be a healer, along with the way she just kinda... kept showing up in the Kazimierz arc and everyone was like "oh fuck oh shit we gotta get out of here" and Shining's just like ":)"

Eunectes: Not actually the biggest fan of Zumama's base art, but her her skin... whoa, boy. Whoever designed that one is extremely cultured and intelligent.

Ling: The Sui sisters are all very attractive, but they're further down on my list than some others because I don't think I'd be particularly compatible with any of them in terms of personality. Dusk is too reclusive even for me, Ling has issues with alcohol, and Nian is just a bit of a brat. Unfortunately, the fact that Ling is fantastically gorgeous is not enough to overcome my intense distaste for alcohol and drunkenness.

Dusk: See above with Ling. Dusk is very pretty, but I have enough trouble forcing myself to get out of my room and go do things as it is. Dating Dusk would mean spending my entire life as a shut-in.

Nian: Nian would fucking pour ghost pepper sauce down my throat while I was sleeping.

Kal'tsit: I used to just find Kal'tsit annoying, but then A Walk in the Dust came around and she was blessed with three new outfits, so now she's both hot and annoying and I have to reconcile the fact that she looks ridiculously sexy in all three of them with the fact that my brain immediately starts playing phone line hold music on loop every time she opens her mouth.

Robin: Something about Robin arouses my protective instincts. I want to hug her and cuddle her and tell her that everything will be okay.

Quercus: Thicc kitty.

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Honorable Mentions:

Mountain: While I don't personally want to fuck Mountain, his art makes it very clear that someone did. Man's got forearms the size of my torso idek how he bends his arms. Dude is literally just muscle. Either his artist or whoever gave his artist directions really wanted to just get fuckin railed by the Frosted Flakes mascot.

Jessica: I'm not normally as attracted to the retiring types as I am to the bolder ladies, but less assertive girls are great too. Jessica is stacked, sweet, and shy, and I could use a sugar mama because the company that rents my apartment to me seems to believe its sole purpose is to suck money out of my bank account like some kind of oversized leech.

Hellagur: Hellagur's a very pretty man, and I love the way he's kind, wise, mischievous, and badass at the same time. Would definitely go down on him, just gotta say "no homo" first, cuz otherwise it'd be gay.

Skyfire: Furry Rin.

SilverAsh: He's pretty and so obviously horny for the Doctor that I can't help but want to give him sloppy toppy in return.

Beanstalk: Beanstalk's too petite for my normal tastes but she makes it on this list anyway specifically so I can make inappropriate "professional breeder" jokes.

Pramanix: Pramanix seems very soft and cuddly. I want to hug her.

Sideroca: Massive mommy milkers. Moo.

Broca: I am currently trying my best to lick his abs. I said "no homo" first tho, so we good.

Blemishine: I'm not actually convinced she's legal, and some of the information we've gotten previously leaves me with a sneaking suspicion she is specifically not.

Utage: Her (swimsuit) design is objectively extremely horny, but high schoolers are a bit below my preferred age range.

#arknights #ask game #I am not tagging them all

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deviantartdramanow · 2 years

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Shut the fuck up and take that diarrhea mouth bullshit somewhere else Triagonal

https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/874861945/4989223953 https://archive.ph/zqQog Imagine being so obsessed with this blog despite "Not caring." Ok want to explain why you were banned on the forums jackass? Or why you got caught in 4k with a minor situation when you are an adult? People do not make that shit up. And they showed PROOF. Quit talking in circles, we are all sick of your shit. You literally said I suspended her Her being Tall)" proudly. The subject was pointing at TALL attacking someone (the bot's of ray) when she should have used the goddamn BLOCK button instead. DO YOU NOT USE YOUR FUCKING EYEBALLS? LOOK AT THAT USER'S COMMENT TO YOU, IT MENTIONS TALL NOT MAYANDKIRBY Why go 'oh I suspended mayandkirby." no, you knew they were a guy and corrected yourself when they ranted you 'misgendered them' too, back when they were still active; and that user was banned months ago BEFORE Tall's suspension, and unlike Tall they didnt BITCH about it, they made their peace and went elsewhere. Too fucking late though cunt rag, the info was sent to Tall's little friends and they ran over and showed it to her, have fucking fun having her ass make hate videos on you for 'reporting her hate journals and being the REAL reason she was banned.' You sealed your fate being a braggy asshole that plays the field. And no, the user IN that chat handed the info over to US. The group dedicated to reporting assholes like Tall sent it in. They sent it in to some of our ranks on discord because Tall kept bothering them, and we took it and sent it here. Leave that fucking user alone bitch and quit stalking people you no life loser. Go creepishly greet people who dont wanna see your ugly mug going 'welcome to DA' with your lame ass poster (User had a right to be freaked out, grow up.) as you kiss the asses of little kids who steal art. Fucking dont deny you didnt see proof either. @KyleDraws and his crew are the ones Skyfnffan steal from, are you too stupid to read fucking TIMESTAMPS ON THE ART DATES? God, the stupidity you give off. Seriously go re-take some school courses, you obviously skipped a few with your head shoved up your own ass in 'Triagonal is always correct' land. Also the forums showed proof you block evaded, your own 'block evasion artworks' admit you have a habit of it too. DA says 'dont block evade' and them's the rules. Oh and shut the fuck up, DA wont do SHIT to the reports you send in whining your chat got exposed. That user sent that chat to us on discord, NOT DA. And the staff DO NOT TAKE OUTSIDE EVIDENCE OFF OF DA. Maybe dont play both sides of the field and cater to both victims and the abusers? Face it, you support theft, you support pedos like Tall (Proof is everywhere, check the fucking tags lazy shit. Right down below, Mod puts the tag #TallTherify29 on posts related to her. Click it and do research, or shut the fuck up. Mommy and daddy aren't here to hold your hand. We are already reporting her for ban evasion, so either shut up and help, or get the fuck out of here you degenerate scumbag 'holier than thou' asswipe. Infact, we are gonna get in touch with those that exposed you to get further details if you dont back the hell off. How's that? Would be a mighty shame if we found out those alts are indeed yours and sent them in to DA with tickets you BLOCK EVADE. The forum goers have alot of dirt on you after all. AND it's archived, so you cant hide it pussy. Again, dont fuck with us, we do our jobs unlike you ya lazy ass shit stalker. Also leave Anji the fuck alone, that's a kid you are pestering. Keep saying shit about her and it's gonna get ugly for you when we show tickets of you harassing a minor.

#submission #deviantart #anon post #drama #triagonal #trigonal

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calicoquiltedtranshag · 7 months

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i'm sorry babe, i just don't get it. you're the one that wanted the "mature mommy gf" so you're gonna have to explain this to me. so they're ninjas made out of legos? doesn't that break the immersion for you? aren't there better cartoons that aren't legos? can't you just watch naruto or something? ...please, just explain the ninjago lore to me again. i'm just not getting it.

I've watched Naruto - I'm good with Naruto! Love the guy.

Here's the thing though - this gal has never had a good time relating to human characters. I just don't. I do my best but I am just - I am not good with folks and I think that translates into how I consume media.

The fact that they're lego doesn't break the immersion - it makes it heckin better. Suddenly I've got a world to think up. How do they survive when they only have two digits? What are their customs, their traditions - what kind of food do they make in a lego world? Boundless questions! Boundless answers - and there are, because Ninjago kinda...goes off. There are answers to questions you never would have thought of. It goes places you wouldn't think it would.

(Lucille)

It's naruto but made to sell toys

Okay, so:

ORIGINALLY you've got these two brothers at the so-called beginning of time. Wu and Garmadon. There's these four weapons that embody the elements fire, ice, storm, and earth. It's impossible to posess all four bc like - you only gots two hands. HOWEVER! Were one to do so, there is...a vague promise of ultimate power!

But Wu and Garm are good kids. They don't wanna do anything like steal divine power.

Also their dad is a master of a lego martial art called spinjitzu. Which is - you spin around a lot. Idk. Both the brothers learn it and they're super heckin good at it.

At some point Garm gets bitten by a snake god their dad defeated and is infected with a venom of True Evil - which starts to corrupt him. He gets the idea of forging all the elemental weapons into one - a weapon of ultimate elemental power!

(Also side note uh there is a whole civilization that is only *ambiguously* evil that their dad sealed away along with their god and its kinda fucked up)

To note: There is a good Garm in there, but this venom's some brethren moons type shit. Twists your perspective so that you'll think you're in the right even as you're doing some heinous shit. He has a son and wife btw.

Wu stops him and kicks him into hell.

It does some wacky things to his body. He makes some skeleton friends and plans to return to the land of the living and take over the world.

Backstory over - ONTO THE SHOW!

There's four main dudes. Kai, Jay, Cole, and Zane. Kai is...a blacksmith's son if I remember? He's got a sister named Nya who's super badass. Jay is the son of junkyard machinists, Cole is the youngest of like...8? I think his brothers run a barbershop quartet barbershop?? Zane is a robot but we don't find that out for a looooooong time. When we first meet him he's just funky and also an orphan.

They all end up at Wu's house. Cole, Jay, and Zane are looking for a purpose. Kai is there because servants of Garm took his sister to use as a human sacrifice - a life for a life. Wu starts to train them spinjitzu, there's a buncha wacky hijinks regarding skeletons, shit gets fucked, shit gets unfucked, Nya is saved, fuck yeah.

One of the skeleton bros has four arms and holds all four weapons - and implodes into superhell. Garm goes into the superhell portal and is like "I'll see you later - BROTHER!" to Wu and then jumps in. We don't see him for a bit.

Also I think there are dragons in there somewhere I kinda forget when/where that arc happened.

FAST FORWARD and there are rumors of GARM REAPPEARING OOOOOOO spooky - our heroes head over to see and it turns out it's his kid, Lloyd Garmadon.

Makes me wonder if Lord is Garmadon's first name. Totally possible in this reality. Fucked up.

Annnnyways Lloyd is threatening to bring back that sealed culture of snake-people because everyone treats him like shit; because his dad is Lord Garmadon, ruler of darkness, the widowmaker, the man with a thousand deaths to his name, so on and so forth.

The Ninja kinda joke around, don't take him seriously, and leave.

So Lloyd, true to his word, goes and summons the Serpentine, the lost civilization.

As it turns out - they're all super cool. There's a bunch of Serpentine nations with specific traits that they're all proud of - and each nation has been sealed in a different vault. Also if you're bitten by one you start to become a serpentine. Also there's a sacred flute that can reverse this and was used to seal the Great Evil Serpent Guy.

So there's about four years of snake people content. Great stuff tbh. There's a lot about the ninja being super arrogant due to their win over Garm and it bites them in the ass every time. Kai is obsessed with being the main character (he's not, his sister is lol) which is shattered when he realizes his sister has secretly been kicking snake ass behind his back - and picking up the ninja's slack. With less collateral damage. Also the Serpentine have an entire self-contained political B plot wherein they try to leverage Lloyd to do...something. I forget. They betray Lloyd eventually (he's been styling himself as Lord Garmadon, ruler of the Serpentine and they get sick of it) and the Ninja take him in and apologize for being a buncha dicks.

There's a worldwide chase, Nya builds a flying dragon ship, the snakes get a snake helicopter, hijinks ensue.

Then the snakes win.

They summon the Great Devourer (name of the snake god) back into reality, and he starts doing his thing. Y'know, bringing about a new age of the serpentine, killing people, wrecking havoc, the usual for a primordial being of chaos. Our ninja have not learned at all from their experiences and get walloped due to their arrogance.

LLOYD HOWEVER goes through a MASSIVE character arc where he realizes

1) Fuck I'm like 15 and I may have caused the end of the world

2) Oh my god I treat everyone like an asshole

3) Oh my god my family is full of assholes

4) I have to be different ASAP.

There's this legend of a "green ninja" who will save everybody - kai thinks its him (because he's an idiot) but Lloyd puts in the work, goes off on his own, and gets the blessing of a green dragon.

Which ages him forward ten years legend of zelda style. He is there to face off against the great devourer as the Green Ninja with Green Ninja powers -

And fails because he is an untrained 15 year old in a grown man's body that he's had for like - two minutes.

As the Great Devourer readies to consume the world, with Lloyd as its first target, a shadowy portal appears...

AND GARM DROPS OUT OF THE SKY WITH FOUR FUCKING ARMS HOLDING THE FOUR SACRED WEAPONS AND STABS IT IN THE HEAD. With a huge gush of venomous blood the Great Devourer writhes in its death throes. Garm is back, he wants his son to be under his wing, and he promises a new age of darkness, now that he has defeated his only competition.

I kinda stopped watching after this bc I couldn't stand Kai but my brother's really liked it - tbh I think it's p neat.

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therenlover · 3 years

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Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

A/n: In the wake of recent life garbage, I have neglected to write a whole fic, and I’m sorry. In the interim, please enjoy this writing exercise I have put together in the hopes of nailing some characters I haven’t written for in the past in time for a larger project I’m working on! Cheers!

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, and Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Mild Misogyny, Mentions of Alcohol/Alcoholism, Mentions of Mental Illness, Non-Graphic Mentions of Death, Minor Spoilers for The Alienist Season One, Minor Spoilers for Goodbye, Lenin!, Spoilers for Rush (2013), Minor Spoilers for The Cloverfield Paradox maybe??? I haven’t actually seen the whole movie, blame Wikipedia if things are wrong.

Laszlo Kreizler

As the first of all of the Dannys to be put through the ringer, Laszlo Kreizler unfortunately would not survive a holiday with my family.

First of all, this man does not like massive huggy kissy crowds, so he’d already be off his game the second he walked into the packed house. That’s not why he’d die though, surprisingly.

His downfall would be his status as an Alienist.

There is simply so much mental illness and childhood trauma present at my family holidays that he would combust within 15 minutes of sitting in a room with all of my relatives.

Even if he were to somehow make it past the introductory phase, my family is nosey as hell, so they’d be grilling him about his arm and his own childhood trauma within the first hour.

Laszlo, for all of his strength, simply wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

His death wouldn’t come from the initial combustion though. No, it’s not that simple.

Knowing Laszlo, once he had combusted and entirely lost his composure the first time, he would become extremely intrigued about the interconnected nature of everyones issues with each other and he would start asking questions.

That’s where the problems would begin.

Because it’s one thing if my drunk great aunt starts badmouthing her sister at the table for abandoning her 90 year old mother for a lake house with her new boyfriend. That’s fine.

But when Laszlo hops in and starts picking apart the mommy issues and underlying reasons for their decades long sibling rivalry?

Oh it would be over for him.

The yelling would never end.

And, I have no doubt that Laszlo would start to psychoanalyze whoever started to yell at him, which would only lead to more yelling.

In the end, someone would throw a probably full and probably fresh out of the oven casserole dish at his head and he’d be unable to defend himself because of his weak arm.

We’d have to cart him out in a wheelchair and even if he were to technically survive, he’d never come back.

Therefor, Laszlo Kreizler would fall victim to my family and die before we even got to dessert.

Alex Kerner

YES

Ah, little baby Alex! A great contender here for holiday survival.

He seems relatively young in comparison to most of the Dannys on this list, though I don’t actually know how old he’s supposed to be.

Based on his relative youth, he would automatically get points with the fam for not seeming like a creep or sugar daddy. Instead, he could be just about any dude I brought home from college.

His skillset as a semi-skilled laborer would also earn him some points, seeing as several members of the family are in similar professions.

Alex might get lost in some of the more complex conversations about the local organic scene or the fine details of running a fine art gallery, but he would fit right in with the majority of the younger members of the family, smiling and nodding his way through the conversation.

His enthusiasm and optimism would brighten the room and leave everyone excited to see him around again.

There’s also the semi-small detail of him caring for his mother, which would earn sympathy from the older members of the family as they are in charge of caring for my deaf, blind great grandmother.

Now, all of these aspects have already set Alex up for a successful survival of a holiday dinner with my family, but the real secret weapon he has up his sleeve is what really cements him in place as a survivor.

What is his secret weapon, you may ask?

Lies.

Alex Kerner is really, really good at lying, and is even better at figuring out increasingly convoluted ways to keep his lies straight.

If he managed to hide to fuckin’ Berlin Wall coming down from his mother for as long as he did, he could keep a couple of white lies up for appearances if he was asked any potentially embarrassing or weird questions that would make him look bad.

He could also lie about enjoying my great aunt’s cooking, which is a vital skill for holiday survival in my family.

Therefor, at the end of the day, Alex Kerner would not only survive a holiday with my family, but he’d probably enjoy it and get invited back for every subsequent holiday he could possibly attend.

Niki Lauda

Niki is another Danny that falls very firmly into the category of characters that would absolutely not survive a holiday with my family, for many, many reasons.

First of all, just like Laszlo, Niki is not huge on going to big huggy kissy parties.

Both adults and children would be all over him the second he walked in the door, which would probably make Niki get very uncomfortable and cagey.

Little does he know at that point that people aren’t just all over you when you get in the door.

No, no, no; from the moment you show up to the moment you leave, if you’re at a holiday with my family you are being basically accosted with questions and hugs and conversations that get weirdly personal.

It doesn’t help that the whole entire house is packed and there are eyes on you at every moment, so he wouldn’t even be able to sneak in a break for air or a cigarette.

If my own mother can’t sneak out for a smoke when she’s been going to these events her whole life, the new guy who’s still being vetted by the family sure as hell won’t be able to either.

Needless to say, Niki would start to get really, really tired of it all in an hour tops. I’ll give him until dinner at most.

That’s where things would start getting really sticky.

See, a lovely little fact about the Niki Lauda that lives in my brain, as portrayed by Daniel Bruhl in Rush (2013), is that he’s just a little bit misogynistic. No more than would be period typical, but a little misogynistic.

Another fun little important thing to note is that my family is entirely matriarchal in nature.

There are only 4 reoccurring male guests at family holidays out of about 20 to 25 guests at each event; My great aunt’s husband of many, many years, the two male siblings my mother has that live in the area, and the young son of one of those siblings.

Men, specifically boyfriends, simply do not last in my family. They are considered pretty disposable and easily banned from family events after breakups or small mishaps.

So, not only would Niki not have any other manly men there to chat about sports with over a scotch and a cigarette, he would be surrounded by so much estrogen that he would definitely struggle with his inner asshole even more than usual.

In fact, we never have sports on, even on Thanksgiving. Poor Niki would be stuck hearing conversations about artisanal candlemakers and how to hand felt a woodland elf puppet.

Back to his downfall, the second he made a slightly sketchy joke about women in the kitchen at the dinner table to my great uncle, his fate would be sealed.

If you thought the yelling at Laszlo would have been bad, this yelling would be ten times worse, because he would be surrounded by like 20 very angry, very defensive, and very strong women waiting to beat the shit out of him and I would not be any help.

He dug the hole, so he can climb out of it.

In the end, his death would come when he tried to light a cigarette and calm himself down at the dinner table while trying to rescind his earlier statement, because smoking inside around all the precious textile art? Thats a big no no.

My great aunt would grab the lighter right out of his hand, light up whatever cocktail she had at the moment, and throw it all directly into Niki’s face.

It would be like crashing his car all over again, only this time he would be surrounded by people who would rather he burn than try to get him out of the situation.

Moral of the story, Niki would die within the first few hours of a holiday with my family because he made an asshole comment to a room full of women who don’t put up with that shit. Don’t be like Niki, even if you think you won’t get killed for it.

Andrea Marowski

YES

Andrea is pretty much the polar opposite of Niki here, and I love him for it.

He is very soft, very kind, very pure, and would never dare to say something rude at the dinner table like a certain racer we all know.

He couldn’t even say something rude if he tried to, because he probably wouldn’t have the English in his vocabulary to say the things he wanted to say even if he intended to say them out loud.

But let’s be honest here, Andrea would never.

Even with his limited English, Andrea would appreciate being surrounded by a whole bunch of people who think he’s the sweetest little thing since the invention of cake.

My great grandmother, despite being almost entirely blind and deaf, would say he looked darling and he would immediately be a member of the family from the moment he stuttered out his thanks.

Andrea, like Alex, is also relatively young, so he would get points for not being old enough to be my father.

I feel like, because Andrea was shown living happily in a tiny village by the ocean with two old ladies, he would have an appreciation for craft, so he wouldn’t mind sitting quietly as my great aunt pawns off a handmade blanket from my great grandmother to him.

He would also happily sit with the younger children and do whatever craft or simple game one of my aunts brought for them that time.

The cherry on top with Andrea is his skill with the violin.

My family is one that appreciates fine art a lot, but more than anything we appreciate music.

I wouldn’t say that any of us are anywhere close to Andrea’s proficiency, but we definitely aren’t terrible, and we all can appreciate the effort, practice, and talent that goes into getting truly good on an instrument like Andrea is on his violin.

He would be encouraged to play, of course, and he would happily oblige.

If he felt comfortable enough, I could even see my great uncle grabbing his guitar, my cousin sitting at the piano, and my sister bringing out her own violin to do a little quartet with some simple song they knew as everybody else sang along.

By the end of the holiday evening, once dinner was served and people were heading to the cars, Andrea would definitely be considered a member of the family.

Needless to say, he’d survive and pass their tests with better than flying colors, even despite the language barrier.

Ernst Schmidt

Now, Ernst was probably the most difficult one on this entire list to put into the living or dying category. In the end, though, there were a few things that couldn’t be overlooked that send him into bad territory.

To be fair, though, he would last the longest out of everyone who would die tragically at one of my family’s holiday gatherings.

He, like the past two victims, would not be exactly suited for the mushy crowding that’s inevitable when it comes to my family.

That being said, I think he would deal with it a little bit better than the other two did and would make polite conversation with the family when he could.

The fact that he was trapped in a packed house filled with drunk people who have several generations worth of beef with each other, though, would start to get him eventually.

If we consider all of the shit that happened while he was in space to be canonical minus, you know, the earth getting really fucked up, he would probably start to go a little bit nuts while packed together with that many passive aggressive people.

The second someone burst into tears on the way to the bathroom he would start to lose his shit.

Still, I think Schmidt would probably be fine-ish until dessert was served, because that’s about the time where all the adults are absurdly drunk, so insanity ensues.

They would start poking at him about his credentials and experiences as a physicist.

He would answer their questions at first, but, unfortunately for him, the questions would turn more and more personal and uncomfortable as time went on.

Did he ever still think about what happened up in space? Did he blame himself for not getting things to work correctly? How much did he miss his old world and old life? Did he ever have nightmares about what he saw? How much did it hurt to get shot?

They’d poke and poke and poke in their drunken state until poor Schmidt would snap at them, flying into a slight rage at their insistent probing.

From there, he would be swiftly asked to leave and then “accidentally” run over while calling an Uber to take him to wherever he’s staying as my drunk great aunt tries to back out of the driveway to drive down the block to her house.

In the end, Schmidt and his wit would be really close to surviving a holiday with my family , but he would, unfortunately, let his anger get the best of him, and it would be the last thing he ever did. Literally.

Helmut Zemo

YES, BUT ONLY BARELY

Okay, so my earlier comment about Ernst being the most difficult out of everyone was incorrect. Zemo was, by far, the hardest to put into one category or the other.

His wit and charm won out in the end, though, and I determined that he would survive one single holiday with my family.

If he ever came back for a second he definitely wouldn’t make it, but he would succeed in living past the first one.

Helmut’s problems start, surprisingly, not with the fact that he is a criminal. In fact that doesn’t even cause any problems for him.

No, instead they start with the fact that he is 43.

I am 99% sure that my mother is 43, and I know for a definite fact that he’s older than one of my uncles who would be present. I, at the time of writing this, am 18.

Needless to say, literally everyone would be massively suspicious of him and his intentions the second he walked through the door. The amount of money in his bank account definitely wouldn’t help in this situation either.

The family would warm up to him eventually, though, because if there’s one thing Helmut is good at besides killing people, it’s making people like him even if they absolutely shouldn’t.

With his expansive knowledge of what feels like literally everything rich and niche, he would slowly win over the older members of the family. Who knew the strange old man Jac brought home was so well versed in the American pottery scene, or that he could name specific jewelry artists from across the world that my family had done business with for years?

My family definitely wouldn’t. At least, not at first.

Oh how they’d learn, though.

Another nice thing about Zemo that would allow him to survive is his aggressive politeness.

No matter how many weird glances or dirty looks he got over the course of dinner, he would simply continue to be the best version of himself in the hopes of impressing everyone.

He would even pretend to enjoy my great aunt’s cooking and get himself seconds, because I’m sure it would be easier to scarf down than whatever he and his EKO Scorpion squad had to eat while serving in the Sokovian special forces.

On the tail end of reasons he would be accepted, Helmut Zemo drinks alcohol like it’s water, so he would fit right in drinking white wine and cocktails through the night with the rest of the adults.

((I think he’d totally tease me about not being able to drink with him, but that’s a story for another time. Anyways...))

His slight downfall would come from something entirely uncontrollable by him or anybody else.

And that something would be my flirty aunt.

I love my aunt. She’s wonderful in her own special way.

That being said, I know if a hot Sokovian baron with a nice smile and a fat pocketbook showed up to one of out holidays, even if he was introduced as my partner, she would be going for the kill all night long.

This would make Helmut more and more uncomfortable as she got more and more drunk, because lets face it, he’s probably not very comfortable with being touched by near-strangers anyways, and being touched by a drunk member of his partners family who is very obviously coming on to him?

That’s even more difficult to deal with.

That being said, Helmut is a man who has been shown to be extremely in control of his emotions.

He would swallow down whatever awkwardness he felt, make it to the end of the night, and, once he had escaped her clutches, he would politely say that he was never going back to another holiday function with my family again, though he would be happy to facilitate me still attending them.

So, in the end, Helmut Zemo would survive one holiday with his sheer stubborn politeness alone.

I will say that his patience would absolutely wear thin if he attended a couple more holidays and he would eventually die of a stress induced heart attack after being unable to politely decline my aunt’s advances.

For now, though, he’s safe.

#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #niki lauda #andrea marowski #ernst schmidt #laszlo kreizler #alex kerner #jac rambles #imagine #the danny bunch

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bluefuckboy · 3 years

Text

Summer Jasmine ✨

Kiribaku A/B/O (Omegaverse)

Alpha Kirishima and Omega Bakugo

Summary: Bakugo has been a single father for three years, after a one night stand with an unknown Alpha resulted in him becoming pregnant. He has always struggled with being an Omega, but has been successful at hiding his true identity, including now while raising his daughter, Yuki. After an incident at preschool, he is called into a parent teacher conference. But what was supposed to be a simple meeting turns out to be a twist of so called “fate.” Bakugo questions whether the difficult journey he’s endured has led to this Alpha, whose scent is like a peaceful, summer breeze.

I’ll be posting the full fic on AO3 soon. It’s about 10 chapters or so and approximately 15K. The name comes from a song released in 1972 called “Summer Breeze” by Seals & Crofts. I’ll explain more when the full fic is released, but go give it a listen as it’s a good, calming song.

This is the first chapter with a note at the end on how the a/b/o universe is structured for this fic

Trigger Warnings: implications of assault against Omegas (including brief mention of attempted rape), mpreg, mentions of abortion, issues dealing with self-hate and struggles with gender identity in terms of secondary gender of a/b/o, later chapters are nsfw

@slackslumber I’m sorry this turned out to be a light novel

Bakugo glanced up at the plate next to the classroom door.

Kirishima E.

Pre-K

He inhaled and ran a hand through his hair, which he had attempted to tame in vain. It wasn’t his first parent teacher conference. Yuki was an unruly child and was becoming even more so as she got older. This time she had tried to bite the ear of another kid and Bakugo was prepared for another dull lecture from a dull teacher who didn’t know a thing about actually raising kids.

He let the breath he had been holding out and gripped the doorknob, giving it a turn. The room was set up like any normal Pre-K classroom would be. There were little brightly colored chairs in groups, large matts with the letters of the alphabet and numbers adorned the floor and model planets hung from the ceiling.

At the front of the classroom was a large desk at which sat a man with bright red hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail. He was dressed in a nice button up, sans tie, with the top couple buttons undone. Rimmed glasses sat perched atop his nose and he pushed them up with the butt of a pencil as he stared at the stack of papers in front of him.

Bakugo cleared his throat and the man looked up.

“Oh! Sorry,” he got up and went to extend a hand to Bakugo, “I’m Kirishima, you must be Yuki’s dad.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Bakugo replied, shaking the hand offered to him.

Kirishima was tall and Bakugo opted to stare at his feet clad in worn dress shoes instead of trying to meet the amber eyes of the teacher. Kirishima motioned for Bakugo to take a seat at a chair that had been moved in front of the desk.

Bakugo sat down, crossing his arms out of habit. He tended to keep to himself and that extended to his interactions with other people. He didn’t want to draw any extra attention to himself.

Kirishima seemed to be the complete opposite. It was clear he was well suited for the job he was in. Bakugo could see children’s drawings hung on the wall behind Kirishima. Little stick figures with crude faces. There were a couple that had a character with spiky red scribbled on top of its head. They had shaky letters drawn next to the stick figure that read “Mr. K.”

Kirishima moved the stack of papers to the side, and set his glasses atop it. He gave Bakugo a toothy smile and Bakugo noticed the sharpness of his canines. His brow furrowed and he tensed a bit. He didn’t particularly care for Alphas, so he was usually a little wary around them.

But Kirishima’s eyes were soft and warm. There was a small scar by one of his eyebrows and Bakugo noticed he had the makings of crows feet at the corner of his eyes despite his youthful appearance. They were probably from smiling so wide that he looked almost like a shark.

Kirishima picked up the pencil he had earlier and twirled it as he said, “I hate having meetings like this, so I’m sorry if I seem a little bit unprofessional.”

Bakugo didn’t reply and Kirishima continued, “Yuki is wonderful. She’s very bright for her age and does great with her grades. But she seems, hmm, how do I put this.”

He tapped the pencil against his temple in thought, his bottom lip sucked under his top teeth. His expression turned to concern as he spoke again.

“It feels like Yuki is lashing out, so that’s why I wanted to talk with you.”

Bakugo sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he said, “I can make her apologize to that boy and his parents. We had a conversation about using our words and stuff.”

Kirishima waved his hand. “No no it’s not that. Well, it is a part of it. But not the main reason I called you here.”

Kirishima sighed and sat back in his chair. “I care a lot about my students. It’s kinda silly but I think of them as my own kids sometimes. So I want them to do well. But not just in school.”

His cheeks tinged red slightly. “I know it’s not my place to butt in on people’s personal lives, so I apologize if I offend you, but I’m just concerned that this might be something for Yuki that is bigger than the classroom.”

He turned to reach behind him, grabbing a picture off the wall that Bakugo hadn’t noticed during his initial glance at the artwork. Kirishima placed it in front of him and Bakugo looked down at it.

It was a picture of a little stick figure girl with a bright pink bow in her hair. She was standing next to a figure of a man who was holding the black line that was the stick figure girl’s hand. The word “Daddy” had been written next to the figure in legible handwriting that must have been from a TA or something.

The background of the photo was scribbled with a blue sky and green grass, with a little house in the distance. But there was an area that was left blank, a white spot on the other side of the girl. Her little stick hand was surrounded by the white, almost as though she was trying to reach for something. “Yuki” was written in large shaky letters at the bottom of the paper.

Bakugo’s heart clenched as Kirishima spoke softly.

“This was from a week ago. We had draw your family as our art project. I don’t want to pry or assume anything, but when I asked Yuki what the white spot was, it seemed to make her upset.”

Bakugo could feel his cheeks getting hot. He wasn’t sure how to reply. It was obvious that he didn’t have a partner, and being a single parent wasn’t unusual. Rather it was the fact that in their society he wouldn’t be considered Yuki’s father.

Bakugo’s silence made Kirishima redden a bit more and he said, “I’m sorry if this is sore subject. I’m just concerned.”

“It’s fine,” Bakugo spat.

The words came out more defensive than he meant them too and Kirishima’s eyebrows knit together closer with concern. Then he asked the question Bakugo always dreaded he’d hear.

“Can I ask you about Yuki’s mother?”

Bakugo swallowed and tried to compose himself before speaking again.

“I’m raising Yuki on my own. Her mother is…”

He trailed off as his heart started beating faster. He was always so cautious and he knew that he should tell Kirishima to mind his own god damn business. But something about the calmness in Kirishima’s voice and his genuine smile made Bakugo feel like this was a safe space.

He tried to push down the ball of anxiety buzzing in his chest as he gripped the sides of the chair and said quietly, “It’s Yuki’s father, not her mother. I… I’m the one who gave birth to her.”

The admonition seemed to hang in the air and Bakugo hung his head. It shouldn’t be something he was ashamed about. Male Omegas were rare and it was even rarer for one to be able to give birth. They called it a “True Omega” and the odds were about one in a nearly half a million. It was a rarity that was often exploited, which was why Bakugo had kept it secret, even from Yuki when she asked why she didn’t have a mommy like the other kids at the playground.

The classroom was deadly quiet and Bakugo’s adrenaline was nearing the fight or flight stage, but then Kirishima spoke again.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anyone. I care about Yuki a lot, so I promise I won’t make things any more difficult. And if I can help in anyway, I’d be more than happy to.”

The offer caught Bakugo off guard and he finally looked up. Kirishima’s expression was one Bakugo had only seen on the face of characters from the movies he used to watch as a kid. A look that made you feel safe and protected, almost like a knight in shining armor. Kirishima smiled and it felt like a weight had been lifted from Bakugo’s chest. Even the air seemed clearer and he realized his knuckles had turned white from his death grip on the chair.

He let go, but regretted it as his hands started shaking. It felt like he was coming down from a panic attack and he felt the wetness of tears on his cheeks. He flushed from embarrassment and ducked his head into his lap.

It was mortifying, but he couldn’t stop and his whole body trembled as he wrapped his arms round himself. Fat tears were rolling down his cheeks and he wanted to melt into the floor. But suddenly there was an aroma like a summer breeze.

It wrapped around him and as he inhaled shakily his trembling started to stop. His whole body felt like it was being enveloped in a warm embrace from the inside out. It was a comforting, almost faintly familiar scent and he could feel his muscles relax as the tears gradually started to subside.

A tissue appeared in front of him and he realized that Kirishima had come around the desk to kneel beside him. Bakugo reached out a shaky hand to accept the tissue. As he did, the tips of his fingers brushed against Kirishima’s.

It was the briefest of contact, but it felt like little sparks had ignited from where the pads of their fingers had touched. Bakugo looked to see if Kirishima had experienced a similar feeling, but his face was still etched with worry. His hand on the back of the chair did tighten slightly however and Bakugo’s heart rate went up despite not knowing what he was expecting.

But then Kirishima was standing up again, taking the smell of the summer breeze with him. It made Bakugo realize what had happened and he looked at Kirishima with an expression between anger and fear.

“Did you just use pheromones on me?”

A/B/O Universe Notes

Alpha/Omega changes occur at puberty

Secondary sex characteristics manifest. Alphas will go through a growth spurt and will eventually grow their “fangs.” Omegas will have their first heat. Both will begin to emit pheromones and part of growing up is being able to control them. However, thanks to modern medicine, blockers makes it much easier.

70% of the population is Beta

Betas are essentially normal humans. They can procreate with each other and don’t experience a rut or a heat.

20% of the population is Alpha

They are considered a superior form of human. Physically they are usually a bit taller, able to gain muscle very easily, and have lots of stamina.

A unique characteristic of the Alpha are their fangs. They manifest during puberty and are attached to glands in the Alphas mouth. During arousal, while in rut, or even a rush of adrenaline can cause an Alpha’s fangs to descend slightly from the gum line and is referred to as “baring.” The canine teeth are connected directly to the glands and are the sharpest and most prominent, but the lateral incisor will also sharpen slightly during puberty. When an Alpha bares their fangs, the canines will become extremely pronounced. When marking, the fangs are used to puncture the skin and can secrete fluid from the glands in order to mark an Omega.

An Alpha will experience a rut occasionally. During this time they will become fixated on mating and can become irrational. Ruts are sporadic and with the help of blockers, most Alphas are able to avoid rut.

10% of the population is Omega

Generally thought of as the “weakest sex” Omegas are usually smaller in frame and it is hard for them to gain muscle. They can become pregnant regardless of gender, but male Omegas are not common. Impregnating a male Omega is also extremely difficult, unless they are a “True Omega” Most male Omegas are recessive.

The Omega experiences an estrus period, or heat, once a month. It will make them want to breed, same as the Alpha’s rut. Unlike a rut, blockers have no effect on the estrus period. During the estrus, an Omega will become wet, secreting what is referred to as slick, making it easier for an Alpha to enter them. For female Omegas it is secreted vaginally, for male Omegas it is secreted anally. However, male Omegas often produce significantly less slick during the estrus period and the chances of pregnancy are very low.

True Omegas are a phenomenon where the body is fully Omega, regardless of gender. The person will be able to be impregnated easily, even if they are male, and their estrus periods are often more intense. The percentage of True Omegas that have been reported is less than 1%.

Copulation:

Between Betas it’s exactly how it works in regular humans.

Between an Alpha and an Omega there are a few more factors. Pheromones play a part in intercourse, both in initiating and during. Slick makes it very easy for an Alpha to enter an Omega. During intercourse the Alpha is able to “knot” an Omega if significantly aroused, or in rut. Knotting lets the Alpha stay connected to the Omega for an extended period of time. Ejaculation is delayed while the Alpha is knotting. Once knotted, an Alpha will ejaculate numerous times into the Omega. Knotting can last for a few seconds, to over an hour. The physical knot is a gland at the base of an Alpha’s penis that will swell in the Omega, causing them to become stuck together until the Alpha finishes ejaculation or is rendered incapacitated.

Pregnancy

For Betas it is around a normal gestational period of 9 months. For Omegas it is shorter, usually around 4 to 5 months. Children of Omegas tend to be on the smaller side, regardless of the parents genders.

Fated Mates/Pairs

This is regarded as a fantastical idea, but has never been proven as fact or fiction. A fated pair consists of an Alpha and Omega who are so compatible, it’s almost like fate has brought them together. Some claim to have experienced almost a supernatural pull to their partner, but scientists have labeled it the evolution of compatibility making it easier for Alphas and Omegas to select the best mate for them.

#kiribaku #kiribaku au #kiribaku fanfic #kiribaku fanfiction #kiribaku omegaverse #kiribaku abo #krbk #krbk abo #krbk omegaverse #alpha kirishima #omega bakugou

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nicomrade · 2 years

Note

Top 5 lupin npc girls

OK THIS IS a really good question first off does rebecca count as an npc girl like she did have her own movie/clipshow.... if yes shes my absolute favorite i adore her if not well let me brainstorm the top 5

i think maria from tokyo crisis has to be there right? she fits PERFECTLY in the universe by being her own kind of overpowered shes zenis new daughter and genuinely its really refreshing to see a side character stick around with ZENIGATA instead of the lupgang for once? it feels like that doesnt happen very often its usually people hanging w lupin or trying to also arrest him... anyway i love maria shes so good shes THEE lupin npc girl she has purple hair and a cool watch what more can u want!!!!! i just found out she has a last name mariya isshiki i love u doesnt she have heart shaped earrings at one point. shes so good

i also really loved ellen from isle of assassins its one of the first lupin movies i watched so i dont know how much itd hold up to my CURRENT standards but i remember her having an actually interesting arc and motives and when things happen to her (good or bad!) i did care. everyone in that movie has a spider motif but i think if i rewatched the movie id go insane about HER spider motif you know.. like shes the spiders prey turned predator for the spider this is the exact same spider motif i use for one of my ocs so im biased but. interesting! themes and motifs! yipee!

i alsoooo liked judy (from siberia with love/bank of liberty) a lot shes lots of fun and her interactions w fujiko well... im a fujikogirl (gender neutral) the bit of character lore that she pressed charges against her boss for sexual harassment???? IDK theres something about that detail IN a franchise like lupin that almost feels like the movie is apologizing for the history of sexual assault. tho she does get re-traumatized later in the movie which -__- huge fucking fail. but ye like shes allowed to be scheming shes allowed to be a little wicked to backstab once or twice while still being sympathetic with a good heart which is!! refreshing!! judy was given nuance she felt like she really had her own life and her own world

i feel like so far ive been really in w the fandom consensus maybe this next one will be a surprise... i do love anita from operation return the treasure (one of my fave lupin movies!) shes an architect i believe! and she has this convo w goemon that i like its about art shes an artist theyre both artists.... the movie doesnt focus on her as much IIRC cause its got a lot of side characters but her moments are really nice and again i felt like she had her own world, her own troubles, her own passions, she felt real to me :]

i think well. i HAVE to mention this one cause i did start making her a playlist purely in my head as the ending of her movie played out shes from blood seal eternal mermaid NOT maki im talking about the titular mermaid misa HER CHARACTER as it unravels and we come to understand ALL of it the horror of fate the power of blood it was all very ... it GETS to something to me.. id have to rewatch it to tell you more but really i think maybe this movie shouldve had more body horror. but it did deserve what it got cause there IS something horrific about misas curse and that spoke to me that was really interesting to me. maybe she doesnt count as an npc girl the one of blood seal is maki but. i liked misas character theres something to it

i think the last ones gonna have to be the honorable mention to the little girl julia from farewell, nostradamus! i LOVE HER shes so much fun shes written really fun she has a character arc that makes SENSE for a... how old is she. 8yo? i love her little american voice: "daddy! mommy!" its so charming shes just so so small and she she has a Trusted Adult in fujiko and she has a whole thing about not wanting to go back home yet cause she feels like her parents are forgetting about her but when theyre reunited she IS happy she DOES love them they DO love her!!! shes really fun the whole movie i cared her so so much she had a lot of personality while still being believably a child

#I TYPED SO MUCH. but you have to know my thought process i like them all for different reasons :)#noticing i like it when the npc girl doesnt have a romance w lupin... i do like those sometime sundy from missed by a dollar was great #ask #anon #despanico #lupin the third

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Enough, Always: Izzy

CW: Newly adult child of whumper and whumpee, whumper in prison, references to romantic/intimate whump, referenced child emotional abuse, verbal abuse, brief gendered appearance insults with single line of brief homophobia at end, plus final crowning moment of badass for Izzy.

Izzy’s mother Savannah Marcoset has been locked in prison on a life sentence without parole for eleven years for abducting Izzy’s father Jax, keeping him captive, and forcing him into a horrifying facsimile of domestic bliss - and Izzy last saw her in person fourteen years ago, when her father escaped with her and her infant brother in one desperate final bid for freedom.

Newly eighteen and feeling the need for some kind of closure in one of the foundational aspects of her identity, Izzy decides to visit America - and pay a visit to her incarcerated mother.

During the visit, she learns that Savvie Marcoset, in the end, couldn’t change - but Izzy fucking Gallagher did.

For the first time with her mother, Izzy finds her voice.

Jax Gallagher (referenced) belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with permission.

---

“Is this how you dress now?” Her mother’s voice is sharp-edged and still familiar, even fourteen years since Izzy last spoke to her face to face. It’s funny, how she barely remembered it, but as soon as she hears it, her heart starts to race, and it’s the feeling of her heart beating wings inside her chest. It’s the way other people might remember the sense of a warm hand to forehead, checking for illness, or laughter, or praise.

It’s a voice like a fever, a rush of chill down her spine and through her arms and thighs. Is it familiar from real memories, or because Izzy has heard it in interviews and documentaries and recordings, during her nights spent researching the woman who makes up half her genetics and absolutely none of her life?

She almost gets up and leaves right then.

Almost.

But Izzy Gallagher fought for this trip, had declared herself able and willing to do this, had more importantly convinced her father she needed to do this. She can’t just give up because it didn’t start well.

Even if he wouldn’t judge her, or at least he wouldn’t show it, Izzy Gallagher sets her shoulders and declares herself her father’s stubborn strong daughter, and not her mother’s weak and frightened one.

She steels herself against the instinctive uncertainty, the rush of anxious shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have tried. Instead, she gives her mother a faint smile as a plastic-and-metal chair is pulled out and she sits down across the small round table, just enough space there isn’t any danger of accidental - or, hopefully, purposeful - touch.

The walls are beige, the top of the table is a wood so pale it might as well be. There are bars on the window that lets in a pale and faded winter sun. There are some others, nearby, people younger or older than she sitting at other round tables, seeing mothers, wives, aunts, sisters. Izzy wonders if all of them are scared, or if none of them are. If it’s only her who has to remember how to breathe, in her mother’s presence.

She can do this. She told him she could do this.

“Um.” Izzy looks down at herself - just a band shirt and faded jeans worn with holes, her still-knobby knees showing through, the boots a birthday gift from Nana she’d thought would help her crunch through the grayish snow in the parking lot, a light hooded sweater over it all - and then up again. Her mother’s eyes are still wide-set in her face, which is less rounded as time has passed.

Those eyes are still overbright, and very blue.

It’s been so long since Savannah Marcoset saw her eldest child, and Izzy can’t ever remember having been the focus of her mother’s all-consuming interest before. It feels like standing in the eye of a storm, where everything is still but the air carries weight, electricity, and threat.

“Mostly,” Izzy says, finally. “Mostly this is how I dress. I mean, I couldn’t wear gray, could I? They wouldn’t let me leave.” She tries to sound lighthearted, then winces. Bad joke.

Her mother, in what looks almost like flat gray scrubs, with a high-cut V-neck and a waist without a drawstring, smiles back, apparently unoffended. There’s a shift - subtle as a cat moving onto its back paws in grass, eyes focused on a nearby bird. Izzy has always been sensitive to changes in the tension of a room, and her own eyes - hazel leaning towards brown, her father’s eyes through and through - move to a nearby guard, reassuring herself with his presence.

Savannah Marcoset is firmly locked in prison for life, with handcuffs and ankle-cuffs that ensure she can’t make herself a threat here, and still the soft nearly-buzzed hair at the back of Izzy’s neck stands up, and she feels like she is being inspected, a bit of bacteria in some scientist’s microscope.

“I had hoped for a little more color, is all,” Her mother says, tilting her head to the side, giving an impish little smile. “As you can imagine, there isn’t exactly a surplus of art here. You look lovely, Isabella.”

Izzy swallows against a lump in her throat. Absurdly, she feels outnumbered, one-to-one. “I, yeah. Thanks.” She tries for a responding smile, maybe half-successful at it. “You have-... you have art classes here, I read.”

“You read up on me.” Her mother’s expression changes a little, opens up. She sits up a little straighter, then, and there’s a flash of still-white teeth in her smile, now. “You know about me. I would have thought you wouldn’t be allowed to know a thing.”

“I’m, um.” Izzy’s hands fold in her lap, and she rubs over the shredded white threads along a hole that’s worn over one thigh, the softness of a patch of fabric she’d sewn herself beneath. “I’m eighteen now, so. I get to pick what I know, more or less.”

“You’re eighteen?” Her mother’s surprise is genuine, and she glances sideways at the clock as though it will become a calendar, back to Izzy. “When did that happen?”

Why that question hurts, she doesn’t know - but it does. It’s not like Savannah Marcoset has anything to do here but remember, and yet-... she didn’t.

“About three weeks ago, actually,” Izzy says, and hears herself sounding embarrassed, like she should have not grown up at all, if that wasn’t what Savvie wanted, or expected. Like the turn of the Earth is her fault, something she did on purpose just to spite Savvie by stealing time.

“Oh. Well.” Savvie folds her hands with a soft rattle as the cuffs knock into the shiny, sealed tabletop. She leans over, and Izzy can see the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, now, the hint of them around her lips. Her jawline seems stronger, more carved, she is a statue version of a parent that Izzy remembers as a kind of terrifying whirlwind. Her hair is less overwhelming, the deep brown graying at the temples, pulled back simply against the nape of her neck. It isn’t so long, as it once was. Savvie pauses, waits for Izzy to look her in the eyes. “Happy birthday, Isabella.”

The name is wrong - it’s always been wrong - but Izzy smiles, anyway. “Thanks. Eighteen is a bit weird, it doesn’t feel any different than seventeen did, but-”

“My no-contact orders were signed here, in the US,” Savvie says, interrupting her, thinking this through. “So you, what, had to be eighteen to come see me? Have you wanted to before?” She leans forward, and Izzy leans back, feeling her back press into the chair behind her, letting her right hand drop to rub at the seam of her jeans on the outside of one thigh. Her heart beats harder. “Did he keep you from seeing me?”

He.

“No,” Izzy says, and her voice is thin at first, but she clears her throat and the second try is stronger. “No, he didn’t. He would have, if I’d have wanted to, before. I just didn’t ‘til now. We’re, um-... we’re doing an American holiday, more or less.”

Shit. She shouldn’t have said-

“‘We’?” Savvie’s expression brightens, with real interest now. Her eyes pin Izzy like a butterfly to a display case, jam tiny needles through her wings, hold her fast. “He’s here? Jax is here?”

“He’s not,” Izzy lies, smooth as silk, without hesitating. She’d planned for this question, prepared for this. She’d sat up til two in the morning prepping for the ways her mother might try to talk about her father, and more importantly, the ways that Izzy wouldn’t give her what she wanted. She’d just been hoping to hide it better for longer. “He didn’t come with m-me here. It’s just me, Mom, and some friends.”

Savvie clicks her tongue against her teeth. “He didn’t think I was too dangerous, for you to speak to?”

She can’t help her slight, sardonic laugh at that. “You’re in prison, Mom.” It feels weird, to hear herself say Mom out loud, as though that was ever what Savvie had been. She was four the last time she said Mommy to Savvie’s face, and even then it had been an apology Izzy can barely remember now, her own sense of a small voice saying, I’m sorry, Mommy, I won’t do it anymore, but she can’t remember what she’d done to get in trouble.

Breathe, probably.

“You’re in prison,” She repeats, and her heartbeat settles a little, reassuring herself with the words spoken out loud, made real. “You’re the least dangerous you’ve ever been, to us.”

Savvie sits back, less pleased now. “I was never dangerous. Did he tell you I was dangerous to you? I never was. That was a lie he made up, so they would help take you and your brother away from me. I only ever wanted us to be a family, Isabella.”

“Mom.” Izzy’s voice wavers, and Savvie might smile a little at the sound, but if she does, it’s because she sees the wrong reason for the waver, or… maybe she enjoys the annoyance, the anger, as much as she would fear. “We both know that’s not true, none of that is true.”

“I wanted a family,” Savvie says, in a low voice, not quite a whisper. Regretful, mournful. She trails a fingernail along the top of the table, and Izzy tenses at the scrape of it. Barely audible but it grates on her nerves nonetheless. She swallows, presses her lips together, tries not to watch it move.

Fails.

Savvie’s nails aren’t painted - in Izzy’s blurry remaining memories of her, Savvie’s nails are always painted colors - but they shine, perfectly filed edges moving, catching a hint of light.

“Your dad,” Savvie says, in that same mournful, grieving tone, “didn’t want you at all. Did you know that? He never did. He hated the very idea of you, and your brother. He thinks I don't know that he cried over the concept of you. No… you were never wanted by anyone but me, until he realized he could steal you to hurt me. He could always be cold that way. He took you and hoped I would-”

“Stop.” Izzy struggles to say it. Even now, with therapy a constant foundation of her life and a stronger one than her mother’s terrifying rage, it’s hard to make herself say the word. She has to fight to make it audible, but it’s still clearly surprising - Savvie goes silent, watching her with those unnerving wide blue eyes. “Please-... stop. I, I know how he felt. You can’t-... you can’t rewrite history, Mom. I know… I know how it was, or I know enough.”

“It’s the truth, Isabella.” Her mother’s expression is so earnestly sincere. Izzy licks at her lips, suddenly dry and chapped, and thinks that if there were a lie-detector test, her mother would pass it, stone-cold. No way to tell she didn’t believe her own words. She might, actually, believe the story as it leaves her mouth, believe it so utterly she can lie without even knowing she’s doing it. “That’s all I ever wanted to do, is have the chance to tell you the truth. But he got that no-contact order and made sure you would only ever know how he saw it.” Savvie smiles with wistful regret, every inch the mother mourning her lost children.

Izzy knows better.

Jamie, her little brother, fifteen and with no memory of his mother at all, might fall for this. She's a stranger to him. But Izzy remembers the hours locked alone in the dark, and the sound of her father screaming in pain.

She swallows trying not to think too much about that memory. “It’s not about-... there aren’t two sides, Mom. This isn't like any other divorce. You held him prisoner.” She’s falling into a trap, and she can feel it but she can’t stop herself. Her mother hasn’t tried to so much as reach for her - it wouldn’t be allowed, the guard would step forward if she did - but Izzy still feels like she has been pinned, claws sliding into her shoulders and a heavy weight holding her to her seat. A bird that didn’t see the threat in time to take flight. "You-... held us all-"

“Well, now he’s made sure I’m a prisoner, hasn’t he? Must be nice, to pin all your problems on the Big Bad Witch in prison who can no longer defend herself. But, of course, everything is always my fault.” Savvie shrugs as she cuts Izzy off, almost idly.

"Mom, he has-..." Izzy feels unmoored. Drifting, like this can't be real, this conversation. This can't be real. "You abducted him, you-"

"Everyone has problems, sweetie." Savvie's head tilts a little more, eyes moving over Izzy’s face with an awful, palpable weight. “Don't try to make it a competition." Something gentles, then. The hard planes of her mother's face soften. "You know, you look like him.”

Izzy warms, a little, at that. She shouldn't and she knows it, but still, she does. She smiles, slightly lopsided, and raises one hand to touch the silver rings in the shell of her left ear, two of them right next to each other, one for Jax and one for her brother Jamie. “I hope so,” she admits. “I’ve always wanted to.”

The moment of gentleness in her mother’s expression slips away, replaced by a brittle frigid chill that washes over Izzy, a wave that breaks against her.

Oh, no. I cared more about him than her. Even now, fourteen years on, she still shivers in an old fear.

“He is handsome,” Savvie says, tapping her fingernails again, scraping them along the table. The sound is starting to grate on Izzy’s nerves. “He always was, even in the earliest days. He never knew it, I don’t think. I tried to tell him.”

He didn’t want to hear it from you.

“He hears it enough now,” Izzy says, and her heart goes cold with dread as she realizes she’s nearly given away something much, much worse to say than accidentally admitting her dad came on the trip with her.

Damn it, Izzy, don't let her know about Kieran.

Savvie doesn’t seem to notice the clue. She just keeps tapping. “Do you play music, Isabella? I wondered if either of you would have talent, in the end.”

It’s an abrupt change of subject, and Izzy doesn’t see it for the trap it is.

“I play-... um. I can play some things,” Izzy hedges, shifting uncomfortably from the simple truth that she can play almost anything, if she hears it a couple of times, remembers note-for-note the songs on the radio or the forbidden ones she still hides in playlists buried in playlists, the soft strains of violin that draw her but she would never admit to. “I’m-... in a band, actually.”

Savvie’s eyes are back on hers, then, that unnerving total focus. “What do you play in that band? Is it a real band, or just noise?”

Izzy rubs at the back of her neck, flushing in embarrassment. “Um. I guess it’s about fifty-fifty noise and real. I play bass guitar, actually.”

She’d read somewhere that bass guitar was easy, and figured if she played that, no one would realize the music was inherent in her, demanding expression. She could say she wanted to be in the band because of her father, who had been in one once upon a time, too. She wouldn’t have to admit that the music didn’t come from Jax, but from Savvie’s blood in her veins. She could pretend, with the bass guitar, to be worse at it than she really was without ruining the songs.

Her mother snorts, derisive. “Anyone can play that,” She says, waving one hand in dismissal - but the other has to come with it, and it’s a reminder that, no matter how Izzy feels in the moment, there is no real danger here. “That hardly counts. Can you play a real instrument?”

“It is a real instrument.”

“Hardly.” Savvie looks disappointed, and it’s weird - she hasn’t seen her face-to-face since she was four, and she hasn’t said a word to her in that time, and still… the disappointment hurts, a little. “You weren’t allowed to do music, were you? He forbade you, because of me.”

“No, he absolutely didn’t.” It’s Izzy’s turn to lean forward, her hands closing into fists in her lap now, an old habit from childhood she’s mostly broken but it comes back, now, as her irritation rises in eternal defense of Jax. “He’s always supported whatever I wanted to do-”

“Because he doesn’t care enough to make sure you’re doing something worthwhile.” Her mother’s sigh cracks open a dark door inside her, it’s familiar even to her fading memories. It’s a sigh she knows from birth. Before Izzy can respond again, she changes the subject, deft as a dancer. “What are you doing for school, then? Are you going to go to college?”

Izzy blinks, thrown off track. “Um. Yes, I do plan on it, I’ll be going to university next autumn-”

“You’ve got the accent, too. Guess they’ve painted over everything they didn’t like, didn’t they?”

“Wh-what?” Her heart stops as her mother’s voice is sharp again. Her fists tighten, pressing down into her thighs until they nearly ache. “What’d you-”

“You look like him, dress like the dime-store version of him - honestly, Isabella, look at you, you look… grimy. You even talk like him. What is this, trying to look like the daughter he might have actually wanted? Is that it?”

Izzy swallows, sitting back again, thumping into the back of the chair. Someone nearby is crying, soft, muffled sobs. Someone else is whispering, in vicious intensity, in fury. The guards are impassive. There’s no sign they even hear Savvie speaking at all. “It’s just who I am-”

“No, it isn’t. I saw your name, Isabella Gallagher. You were born a Marcoset, but he was happy when he changed it, wasn’t he?” Savvie’s eyes won’t let her look away. She feels completely captured, the center of Savannah Marcoset’s world, the most terrifying place on Earth, somewhere Izzy has never once been. “I asked you a question, Isabella. He was happy to have you change your name, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.” She’s not sure why she answers. The anxious shivering inside of her is stronger than it should be. Her voice is a whisper, a rush of air with only a hint of sound. “But it was-... my idea-”

“I’m sure he let you think that. I feel sorry for you, you know. I really do. He must care for James so much more than he does you, don’t you think? My beautiful son wasn’t old enough to even speak to me, but you… you’re a reminder, aren’t you? Oh…" Savvie's lips purse, in a sort of smug smile. "Oh, you are. God, what torture it must be for him to be around you."

She’s supposed to be stupid. Izzy has watched all the documentaries that mention the case, she read an awful unauthorized true crime book she found in a thrift shop once that just had a little teensy chapter on Savvie buried between other femme fatales. She’s done her research, to understand the woman she was going to meet as best she could.

Savannah Marcoset is supposed to be… well, stupid.

Izzy wasn’t prepared for cunning not being the same thing as smart. And she didn’t think through what eleven years in prison, with almost nothing to do but think, and no chance of leaving ever for the rest of her life, might do to hone her mother’s ability to wound. That Savvie might have taken a blunt instrument and whittled it into a blade.

“I-I’m not-”

“You are.” Savvie hums, and the tapping of her nails is going to drive Izzy up the fucking wall. “Even just being alive, you are. And your hair, well…” Savvie’s eyes go up to Izzy’s hair, the same deep chocolate brown as Savannah’s own, a shock of curly brown that falls over her forehead and against one side, nearly shaved on the other side and along the back. “You can cut it, but it’s still my hair. You walk around a living reminder of what he stole from me, just to hurt me, what he didn’t even want. You were never wanted, Isabella. That’s why your birth is part of my crimes, don’t you think? You and James both. You’re a crime I committed against him, right?”

“A crime-” Her voice cracks, but if she sounds uncertain, it’s only her nerves, her inability to stand up for herself sometimes. It’s not fear. She is not afraid of this woman, and she doesn’t believe her.

Okay, a little afraid.

But she doesn’t believe her, she doesn’t. She knows better, because she knows how hard her father has worked to build the life around her, the one she’s living now. She knows how many times he has held her after nightmares - hers and his both. She knows he could have left her and James behind, but he didn’t.

Every chance he had to set them down, he chose to hold them instead.

Most of all, she knows the way her father has carefully, day by day and year by year, taught her that love is not the same thing as danger.

Her shoulders square, and her back straightens. “You keep saying that, b-but… there’s a difference between not wanting someone who will be hurt to, to be there to be hurt, and caring about someone. There’s-... you can’t see the difference, is all, but I can. I know-” She swallows. “I know how it looks like when he loves someone, and you don’t.”

“Hm.” Savvie’s fascination flags, a little, at that. Her stare is unnerving, unblinking, but Izzy feels the anger coming off of her, hidden and still plain as day. “Changing the subject, I see. So much of you is just a walking reminder. You’re just a tragedy on two legs, aren’t you, Isabella?”

Part of Izzy thinks wryly, how long ago did you think of that and how long have you been waiting for someone to say it to? but the rest of her can’t find the breath to say it out loud. “You can’t make my life worse than it is, Mom. Not anymore. I didn’t come h-here for this, I came here for-”

I came here to see if you could see me, even now, or only a reflection of what you can’t have. I guess I have my answer.

Savvie hasn’t stopped talking. “What of you is even yourself, Isabella? Are you just… trying not to be me? Do you not want him to think of me?” Her smile widens. Flash of teeth. For a second, just one brief second, Izzy sees fangs. “Oh, sweetie. You can’t ever change that, no matter what you do. I was important. I ruined his life, remember? There was a whole court case about it. Two, really. It’s why I’m here. Because I’m the Big Bad Wolf, or so I’m told.” She snorts. “You should have worn red, Isabella. Or something.”

“Or something,” Izzy whispers, looking down at her hands, at her knuckles gone white, her fists. The round clock is ticking on the wall, and it’s only an hour. She told herself she could last for an hour, when she walked in here. She told herself she could make it, and she would.

“Isabella-”

“You didn’t, by the way.” Where the words come from, she’s not sure. But they come out sure, and strong. "You didn't ruin his life. It’s better, it’s good.”

“Oh? Is it?” Savvie feigns disinterest, but she’s so bright and sparkling, pulling Izzy in. “What about it is so good, Isabella? What does my husband do, in his whole new life without me? What can he do? Show me how I’m wrong.” Savvie’s presence is heavy, it takes up too much space, feels like Izzy is pressed against the wall, suffocating. How did they live like this, surrounded by her on all sides, all the time? How had Jax ever survived so long alone with her?

Her voice trembles more than she wants it to when she speaks. “What?”

“You say I’m wrong - about him, about you.” Savvie is a shark, and Izzy is blood in the water. She seems bigger, suddenly, or maybe Izzy is smaller. Younger. Has too much hair for her age and a frilly dress she hates and she has to be good, and so quiet, and do exactly what she is told or her father will be hurt, and it will be her fault, because it’s always, always her fault-

Savvie’s voice is not quite a whisper. “Tell me, Isabella, all these things I am so wrong about. Even if you believe his side of the story, he’s all I thought about, the only thing that mattered, right? So I know him better than anyone else, don’t I? And you’re mine. I know everything about you, without even trying."

“You don’t-... know anything about me.” Izzy knows she’s getting quieter, and knows as she retreats, her mother presses forward, thrilled to play a game she hasn’t played in… in eleven years, more or less. “And you don’t know a single thing about him.”

“I know every fucking scar on his body.” Izzy’s stomach flips, but Savvie is leaning forward again, and the blue of her eyes is overtaking everything else around them. Plain beige walls and plain table and plain bars over plain windows can’t compete. The gray of everyone’s prison outfits, her own black-and-slightly-less-black, none of it is a good enough distraction, enough to tear her away. “That’s what I know. You’re sweet, Isabella, and it’s lovely of you to try and be the dutiful little daughter all over again. But I know things you don’t, I always have. I know I still do. He hasn’t told you half of it, and he won’t.”

It’s a strike, a feint and then a jab, and if this were a real fight Izzy would be ready for it, but words are so much harder to defend against. “I was a little kid, I didn’t need to know it, I didn’t want to. I don’t need to know-”

“You had colic, for a month or so.” Savvie cuts her off, raising her voice a little. One of the guards behind her shifts, might look at them from behind the dark of his glasses at the volume. “When you were little. Cried like a banshee, day and night, no reason. I could hear you in my practice room. Still think you know everything?”

“This isn’t-... I don’t know why you’re telling me this."

“I had my responsibilities, sweetie. I mean, I was a new mother, but I was still a person. I didn’t need to change all that much, really. Jax spent half his time trying to keep me away from you, your own mother, and the other half trying to shut you up.”

“You could be-... he said you were up-upset, sometimes, um, you c-could be-”

“Violent? Never. I was tired, maybe - we both were. Jax has never slept well."

Because of you.

"Oh, here we go. One of my favorites of his little insults… does he say I was unstable? I’m sure I’ve heard it all. Probably in court, no less, he very much enjoyed getting on stage to put on his little show. Taking the jury around and around in circles acting like I never did anything kind for you.” Her eyes move back to Izzy’s hair, shaking her head slightly, one lip curling upward in a sneer. “I certainly would have been kind enough not to let you make yourself look like that.”

“Mom-”

“Shut up, Isabella. I am talking to you, and I am not done yet.”

Izzy’s mouth snaps shut, teeth clicking together, her nails digging into her palms. Her eyes flicker to the guard, trying to catch him, but no, she’s going to last the whole hour, she promised herself she could do it, she promised.

Besides, it's… sort of harder than she thought, to look away when Savvie is talking.

“We ended up getting my, well, Isaac’s servant Hannah to help with you. Because of the colic. He asked for her, really. I was prepared to bring in someone else, but Jax had his demands, and when he really wanted something, well.” She shrugs, calmly, casually. She is talking about a reality that never existed, moving all the pieces around until the past suits her and not the court documents. Until her story is the one circling Izzy’s head, and not the story she knows has to actually be true. “How could I refuse?”

“He asked-... but when he wanted-”

“What did I just say?”

“Mom, I need to-”

“Let. Me. Finish.”

“N-No, I don’t want to hear this-”

“You know what he started to do? Once we had Hannah around, a few days a week? When the steward began to come as well? Do you know what the number one change your father made to his life was, once that happened?”

“Mom, please. Please don’t do this.” Her voice is nearly gone, and Savvie leaps.

“He started getting the hell away from you.” Savvie throws her head back and laughs, loud enough to make people look over at them. Izzy wonders, face burning in embarrassment, what they see. Do they know who Savvie is? Is she really famous, here, like Izzy thinks she is? Does everyone know they’re watching Savannah Marcoset push her daughter under the water and watch her struggle to breathe?

But… the words hurt. He got the hell away from you. “He did-... he did what?”

“Fucking escaped you. He thinks I didn’t notice. Everyone always thinks I don’t notice, didn’t know things. Your father - my Jax - thinks I’m a fucking idiot, I get that now. But I saw that, him handing you off to Hannah or the steward and get as far away from you as he could without-” Savvie lifts her hands to tap at the side of her neck with a slight, almost dreamy smile. “Everyone says I’m the bad mom, the bad parent, but I’m not the only one who shoved you aside every chance I got.” Savvie hums, almost idly. She’s playing, Izzy thinks dimly. Cat with a ball of yarn. Somehow the words hurt a little less when the realization comes. “That’s the thing, though, isn’t it, Bella-”

“Izzy,” She whispers, but her mother doesn’t hear her, or doesn’t care.

“You know you are, fundamentally, his fucking nightmare. Your father sat up there before judge and jury and told everyone that I only had you so I could control him just a little bit more. Did you see that, in the documentaries you watched? Did you hear about it? Did he tell you that you only existed to be a weapon, that you're just a pretty little tool in my toolbox?"

She doesn’t want to answer any of those questions, and keeps her eyes down, focuses on the knuckles of her hands. How they sit over her lap so nicely, if you ignore that they are fists. Her face still burns bright red, and her eyes are hot with tears she blinks rapidly away before her mother can see them fall.

“He’ll say I didn’t love you.” Savvie’s expression is chilled, disdainful. “But your father had whole days he could barely stand to touch you. He had days he couldn’t even look at you. You ran around after him begging for, what, for someone to pat you on the head and say you were good just as you are? No wonder he couldn’t give you that.”

“He did give me that, over and over-... how you’re saying it isn’t how it happened, you’re not remembering what actually happened, Mom-”

“I think, deep down, you know it’s because no matter what you do with your hair, or your clothes, he is always going to look at you and see me. That’s the fear, isn’t it? That you're me, or you will be. That’s why you’re here, why you flew all the way across the fucking Atlantic to pay Mommy a visit. You wanted to see how much of you is me. How much of me is in you. How much of a fuck he can even give, in the end, for my daughter." She laughs again, and Izzy flinches. "He must hate you, deep down, and part of you knows it. Am I right?”

Izzy can’t answer at first, and her mother clicks her tongue, falsely sympathetic.

“Oh, sweetie. It’s okay. I can’t do a fucking thing to you, or him, or anyone now. But I’m glad you came to see me. I'm glad to see that you're just the same, easy to break as ever. You'll end up with exactly the love you deserve, Bella. Won't you?"

Izzy's eyes are blurred, struggling to focus. What rises in her isn’t fear, or doubt, or even sadness. It’s anger, the same simmering slow burn that that comes whenever someone tries to push her and her father down, when they have to force their way back up. "N-no-"

"Yes. You'll get what you were born for, one way or another. Don't worry, sweetie. You're not like me at all. You're just… a mirror, and the reflection isn't even a good one." Savvie laughs, cold and cruel, delighting in the pain on her daughter's face. "Here I was worried you’d be angry, but I don’t think you can be. Is that too much like me, too?”

“No, I’m… I get a-angry sometimes, I can… it’s not like that-”

“Not like what? Speak up, Bella. Stop mumbling, you were always a mumbler. Most children shout, you know.”

“Most children don’t get locked in closets if they do.” Izzy is still whispering at the start, but the words come more strongly as she works her way through them, eyelashes heavy with tears she tries to pretend don’t exist. “Most-... most kids can throw a fit without their dad getting hurt, and most kids get to leave the h-house sometimes, and if I-... if he couldn’t-... it was because of you, not because of m-me.”

“Tell yourself that.”

“I do. I do tell myself that. I only have to tell myself that because of you, and you-... you just wanted to be his whole life and the only thing in it and you’re n-not, and this isn’t even about hurting me, is it? All of this-... telling me about, about him-...”

She can remember it, can’t she? Faint traces remain, of asking for Jax and being told by her Aunt Hannah that he needed some time, of asking and having her Papa Stewart give her a hug instead, of asking and asking and then learning not to ask…

“You aren’t telling me this to hurt me. You’re telling me this to hurt him.” Izzy raises her eyes, aware of the bright red blotches on her cheeks, aware of the tear tracks, aware of her hands in fists and the zinging anger in her that simmers underneath her fear. “You want me to take this out into the-... into the world, back to Dad, and tell him what you said because it’ll hurt him to hear that you said it, and you’ve been in prison for eleven years and missed most of my life and nearly all of my little brother’s - who you haven’t asked me a single fucking question about, by the w-way - and all you can think about, even now, is the… the one who got away from you.”

The balance shifts, some of the glittering brightness fades from Savvie’s eyes, the fascinated sadism seeps out of her expression. “Isabella-”

“Izzy. I’m called Izzy. And you know that, because you’ve known it ever since the trial. And maybe I was-... was hard, for him, when I was a baby and I can’t fix that or make it any better, it’s all already happened and I’ve had to learn not to feel guilty about it since I was four years old, but of the two of you, only one has ever bothered to give any solitary fucks about who I am! I came here to see if you could-... if you could change, or rethink, or even just, just feel something about me, and all you can feel is the parts of me that are him!”

“Isabella-”

“You shut up! You do it, now, and you listen to what I have to say! I was sc-scared, all the time, because of you, not him. He was the one who came to let me out, and he was the one who held me when I was scared, and even if he didn’t want to be near me, he still tried! You don’t-... you don’t get to change the story and make it not what it was, Mom, I know what it was.”

“You know what he told you it was.”

“No. I know what it actually really was. There is no other alternative world where you’re the good guy, or better than he was! Maybe I was a hard baby to l-love, because of whose baby I am, and I-I carry that forever… that I'm not the kid he would've wanted to have... but he tried, and if he didn’t love me at first, at least he tried until he learned how! But… but I know he did. I know he loved me, and Jamie, so much that he did the scariest thing he could imagine by running with us and having to hope we could make it to Grandpa before you could catch us again. I think you don’t know him at all, and you’re going to die in prison still not knowing, and that’s why you’re doing this now. It is killing you that you could lock us up and put that thing on his neck and keep us trapped and you still don’t know any of us at all.”

“I made every single scar-”

“Scars aren’t who someone is! They’re just marks of you being shitty to him! They don’t say who he is now, or how his mind works, or how fucking brilliant he is at being a dad! You know some marks on his skin, but I know who he is when he’s safe, and strong, and happy, and you will never know that man. You won’t ever know what he looks like really in love, and I do, and it is absolutely nothing like he looked around you!"

Her eyes flare. “Bella, what are you talking about, in love? With who? Who would-”

“I came here to see if-... if any part of me really is you, and it’s not, because all the parts of me that matter are from him and Grandpa and Papa Stewart and Nana and my aunties and none of the important bits are yours at all! No one loves you, because you can’t love anyone, but I can, and he can, and Jamie can. You are never ever going to see him again… and I’m going to walk out that door and give him a fucking hug."

She shoves her chair back, making a metallic screech along the floor that makes her mother wince, adrenaline pumping through her veins. It’s a kind of fight, this, she’d been pinned to the mat and fought her way back to standing in the end.

“I am proud of him, for all he’s done to make an even better life for Jamie and me, and I am proud of him for finding Kieran, after you - and Kie’s a better bonus dad by a million years than you ever were a mom - and… and he’s proud of me. He’s proud of the person I am and not just the person he thought I was supposed to be. That’s more important than, than anything, is that he and I-... we can be proud of each other, and you can’t be proud of anything but yourself.”

Savvie looks startled, now, struggling to regain the surety she’d felt before. She can’t stand or the guard will come, and so she stays seated, and looks up at Izzy, no taller than her father but wiry still. “I think we’re done here,” Savvie says coldly. “You’re clearly too swept up in your father to be worth talking to.”

“Maybe,” Izzy shrugs, shoves her hands in her hoodie pockets, finds the comfortable weight of her phone, switched off for during the visit like the guards had asked. Wonders if her dad, sitting in the rental in the parking lot, has started pacing yet. If he’s watching the clock, waiting for her text to come through, bouncing his foot like he does sometimes. If he’s pretending to read or texting Kieran or if he’s just staring at the squat building that stretches wide on either side, waiting for her to come out. “Did I disappoint you, then? How I am, just me?”

“Oh, sweetie.” Savvie shakes her head, ruefully. Her expression shifts into mournfulness, just a few seconds too late for it to be convincing. “I had high hopes for you. But he ruined you, in the end. Absolutely ruined you.”

“That’s… that’s probably good. I don’t think I’ll come back, Mom. But I might-... I might write a letter.” Why she throws the offer out, she doesn’t know, only… only some part of her will always, always want to keep hoping that this will change.

Savvie’s eyebrows raise. “I might answer it. Can you fix your hair, if you ever come again? And wear something… nicer than this?”

Izzy blinks, rolling her eyes back to look up at her hairline, down to look at her shirt and jeans, and then back to her mother. “Why? Because it’s shorter than you want it to be? Because you don’t like my clothes?”

“Because you look like a lesbian, Isabella.”

Izzy blinks, too thrown to find the words at first, and then she shrugs, rubbing her thumb along the side of her phone in her pocket, her palms aching where her nails had dug in so deeply, over very old scars. She can’t quite help her smile. “Oh. Well, fuck, Mom, my girlfriend will be shocked when she hears you feel that way.”

“Your what?”

Izzy turns and walks away, past the other tables with crying or hurting people, or people who look like they want very badly to hug and can’t, and she doesn’t look back.

The door clangs open and slams shut behind her, the hallway stretching out ahead, and she walks down two sets of stairs and around a corner before she sees the big heavy doors that lead out into the world, the huge parking lot warmed by sunlight with no trees to break the glare of it. She gives the guards manning the checkpoint a little wave of one hand, pushing the door open, and moves into the glaring, brilliant light, turning to face the corner where her father has been waiting by the rental.

He’s definitely been pacing.

She smiles and heads towards him, giving him a big wave. He’s moving towards her before her hand is even fully in the air.

If her mother’s words are designed to shatter, her father’s love - starting with his desperate attempts to protect her, his whispered be brave for me, Izzy as they boarded a train, written across every single day of her life - is a foundation too strong to be broken.

Her mother, Izzy thinks, can’t understand love like that.

But Izzy does.

And it's more than enough.

Always.

---

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