#shes just fucking furious about it
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do you ever think about istar's hair. and how she has never cut it since staying with the elves in eryri. it was so long and beautiful and always braided. decorated with little trinkets. sometimes still red from whoever she murdered. how she has always taken care of it, be it irrdith or a lover. how she doesn't let herself think of home, but she takes such pride in her hair. there are only two things that came out of eryri, and it's istar and khairos. but then orin ruined it. istar got punished. hair cut, dragon dead.
#thats why beginning of the game istar's hair is very short and badly cut. kressa tried to Fix It to make her lil corpse look prettier but#well. doesnt really work when orin butchered that haircut first#its also valid for any verse with vic/gale where istar remained in bg. but then istar did get it fixed#shes just fucking furious about it#istar of eryri.#meta.
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I just think Tallulah gets to be upset about this. “It’s not Wilbur’s fault” “He’s not a bad dad” “He loves his daughter so much” yes! These are all true! And it’s not his fault! But he’s still not there. And Tallulah has gone through so much and still hasn’t seen him, the one time he was around was the one time she wasn’t, and all she has are letters and “I’m thinking of you always” and things that used to be theirs together, but he’s still not there. She’s waited and she’s been patient and she’s loved him all the same, and he’s still not there. Like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, from the happy milestones to the traumatic events, he’s still not there.
She knows that it’s not his fault, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s absent. That in and of itself just adds to the sorrow, because she knows why he’s gone, and she’s been told time and time again it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care, she knows this - it doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting, that it doesn’t hurt, that she doesn’t yearn for her father to be there more than anything in the world, and he’s just not there.
So yes, she gets to be upset, and be caustic, and stomp her feet and write bitter messages, and be angry and vitriolic, because she’s a little girl missing her father, who feels things with her whole heart and soul - and that means she gets to feel the ugly parts of it, too.
#it’s like no wilbur isn’t at fault. especially if we’re talking about cc wilbur. but fuck man of course she’s gonna feel like this#this doesn’t make wilbur a bad person! he’s just a missing one. and Tallulah feels all the misery and bitterness as a daughter left behind#where is her father kissing her injuries and reassuring her? where is her father protecting her? hugging her at the end of the day?#Wil isn’t around to do this and she wants him back and he’s not going to be back. not for a while. and it’s not his fault but it doesn’t#stop it from being upsetting. she’s a little girl#and at least she has phil. her dad. who’s there time and time again. and it doesn’t make him somehow morally better or wtevr. he’s there an#Wil is not. and he’s going to continue to be there as a solid figure in tallulahs life that she needs#idk man like. fuck#lmao relating my own experiences from here below in the tags ✌️#as someone who’s been in that position? a parent absent for reasons outside of control? yeah it’s sucks. and I love them and they love me#*with a parent I mean I wasn’t the parent lmao#and it will never be the same. and when they were gone and missing things I was furious at them#that resentment grows and then it fades and sometimes bitterness strikes again and it’s how it goes. love is still there#and it’s no one’s fault. it just is. and what is is messy#anyways#mcyt#qsmp#q!tallulah#q!wilbur#z speaks
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Me: What fresh horrors await me today, I wonder.
Work: Oh my god, SO glad you asked . . .
#I’m so fucking frustrated#I keep thinking THIS is it#THIS is as bad as it’s going to get and just hang in there#and stay committed to giving it 6 months#and then something else happens#just found out that now this new manager is starting to huff and puff about how everyone should be in the office#full days for 3 days a week#despite the fact that my work archetype is 1 day or 20% of my time#which I split between 2 days for child and pet care reasons#and she thinks those of us with kids should pick them up#drop them off at home#and drive back to work#which is a huge waste of everyone’s time#I just fucking canNOT with this woman#I’m SO fucking FURIOUS all the fucking timd#I HATE THIS
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this has stayed in my brain for like 2 weeks: au where obi-wan gets fed up with the city council because he keeps writing them asking them to fill this pothole on his street that he hates driving around and they keep not doing it so he decides to run for city council himself on the sole platform of if he’s elected he’s going to fucking fix that fucking pothole.
and he wins because he is very charming and not a lot of people vote anyway, and he fills in his pothole and then next election cycle, he’s planning to let someone else win so he doesn’t have to be on the city council anymore because he actually hates local politics.
only there’s this asshole in university who decides to run obi-wan’s re-election campaign because he’s trying to sleep with a political science TA and he thinks she’ll be impressed if he shows an interest in local politics by doing some grassroots voting door to door work for his community service credits…..and he chooses obi-wan to support at random and very nonconsensually
so anakin skywalker becomes the bane of obi-wan kenobi’s existence. obi-wan kenobi becomes the focus of anakin’s.
(obi-wan also becomes an elected official again, mostly because of the bored housewives vote.)
(obi-wan blames this on the fact that while anakin is a very horny intense nineteen year old, he’s also surprisingly effective with his big wet eyes and his obscenely pink lips. anakin blames this on the televised debates he scheduled between obi-wan and fellow councilor maul, where obi-wan’s eyebrows are drawn and he looks furious and his shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing his very nicely defined forearms.)
(they fuck about it.)
#kit's silly lil aus#obikin#talked about this on the discord like a while ago but was thinking about it earlier#obi-wan was trying to soft quit and not announce that he was running so no one would vote#for him but then anakin just randomly chose to put all his intense weird energy behind obi-wan#and it works and obi-wan is furious#this twink is ruining his life#now he’s been re elected and people know about him and talk to him on the street#and that’s …. sort of nice fine he likes people he likes his city#he fucking hates politics and now he’s a politician#all because of anakin skywalker !!!!#who turns Padmé down when she makes a move on him because all his weird intense 19yo anakin energy is firmly#on getting obi-wan to fuck him now#(obi-wan realizes that maybe he will be stripped of his political power and title if he’s caught fucking his campaign manager (newly 19)#(obiwan of course grabs onto that opportunity with both hands. solely because he wants to not be on the council anymore.)#(not because he wants to fuck anakin) (definitely not)#the sex they have the night it’s announced obi-wan wins….incandescent so rough so furious anakin can’t stand#obi-wan goes out to say thank you all sweaty with hair out of place and red splotches on his neck#and no one knows they’re from his campaign manager currently in his bed back at his house
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:(
#i literally feel VIOLENTLY ill at the fact the hospital handled my mum’s passing so badly that her funeral is exactly ONE MONTH after it#i’ll forever be furious and angry and hurt and traumatised by the way they handled it#like A MONTH#it should not be happening this long after#and it’s her birthday on sunday so maybe i’m just feeling ten times worse because of that#but it’s not fair#it’s never gonna be fair#why the FUCK did she get taken from me like this#and then having to be the only one who knew about her funeral plans bc she only told me#and then everybody including my dad tells me how strong i am#IM NOT STRONG!!?!!?!??!?#i’m a girl who needs her mama. i’m just a girl who is so lost and confused and needs her mama#i literally want 2 die#tw death#i turned my tv off and immediately started crying bc i felt like the worst person in the world#did i not love her enough#should i have been better to get#*her#idk i just want her to know i adored her#and i need to hear her voice and get a hug#one of the last things she said to me was ‘i love you more’ well i love you most so how about that#tw grief#i am never getting over losing her#please . feel free to let me rant i just feel like i can’t talk to my dad or family bc like idk .#i always talked to my mum about my emotions and well! that can’t happen anymore lmfao 😭#i just need a place to vent the HELL out of my feelings bc i am not going back to therapy
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Laughing hysterically at the premise of Amity, who has spent almost every night in Luz's room along with Hunter, seeing Grimbaby!Luz with Hunter's eyes and being like "What. What. What. How the fuck did I miss Luz being with child and also how the fuck did that even happen without me knowing in the first place???? Do I want to know the answer to that??? Probably not!!!!!"
amity is like i thought for SURE i'd finally sorta sussed out the semi-platonic nonsexual heterocentric throuple thing we have going on and it turns out they've actually been DOING IT the WHOLE TIME???
#'WHEN?? WHEN I WAS ASLEEP???? IN THE THRONE ROOM WHEN I'M NOT AROUND?? THEY COULD HAVE JUST KICKED ME OUTTT'#she's immediately not even mad that theyre apparently Together and is just furious they dont show any romantic PDA in front of her.#HEY. i'm not THAT big a prude. am i. i'm not gonna spontaneously combust if you two kiss in front of me!!! >:(#WHEN WAS LUZ PREGNANT!!! I KNOW FOR DAMN SURE SHE DOESNT WEAR A CONCEALMENT STONE WHEN SHE SLEEPS I'VE SEEN HER FUCKED-UP SCARS!!!!#WHY WOULDN'T SHE MENTION IT!! I'M NICE!! SORT OF!!#STAMPS FEET ABOUT IT#youre right this is very funny. i really do think ultimately luz would try to pawn off grimbaby before anyone knew about it#but for the lulz. yeah.#replies#toh#princess luz au#shitty idiot repression gang
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if dorian didn't show up, do you think louis would have shot minnie?
I do. I know some people think either he wouldn't have or he would've missed so that's why the writers had him shoot Dorian instead, but mmmmmm no, I don't personally think so. I like to think that if he had taken the shot, his shaky hands would've caused him to shoot her fatally.
Mostly because I'm already so normal about the fact that of the Ericson crew, Marlon and Louis are the only ones with a body count. Well, that we know of, but shown to us in the game, at least. Plus, we know it's Louis' first kill.
Like yeah, Clementine and AJ become part of the crew and they have bigger body counts, and if we're counting indirect kills caused by actions, then Tenn has a count... and I guess everyone has blood on their hands for blowing up the boat... but I'm talking about killed directly with a weapon like....... I lied, I'm not normal about that at all, Louis and Marlon are the ones who have killed someone in Louis' route. I'm also not normal about the fact that Louis kills Dorian and then even as he's clearly in shock, he tries to go with Clementine to get AJ, and then later on when they talk about it, he says it feels like bile but not quite and he's glad he has it in him to do it.... listen, listen, listen... I'm obsessed with that.
Anyway, so if Louis shot Minerva, I think he would've accidentally killed her and can you imagine? He's already enough of a mess after killing the woman who pinned him down and tried to cut his finger off [or succeeded] but he knew Minerva, they were friends before the twins were taken. Even Violet couldn't kill her even though that would've been the smarter thing to do, and we know thanks to meta knowledge that killing her would've saved lives, but Violet couldn't, and I don't think Louis would intentionally either.
Speaking of Violet, if Louis killed Minerva, I hate to think about what that would've done to Vi. I think she might've actually left at that point, like what was planned before it got changed to her being burned. I don't think she would've attacked Louis over it, though, like yeah she attacked Clementine in the cell but Louis? I don't know, but I don't think so just because it's Louis and he'd be a mess about it anyway.
Though if he did kill her, it would be a neat parallel to draw... y'know, because Louis forgave AJ for killing Marlon even though he was pissed and heartbroken, and Violet was annoyed with him the entire time... but could she ever forgive Louis for killing Minerva? Y'know? We already have a similar parallel with AJ shooting Tenn, but still.
If Clementine killed Minerva in that moment, though, then I could see Violet attacking her since in her eyes, Clem proved her right.
So yeah, I get why they added the Dorian kill to his route. It adds another compelling element to Louis as a character, but we also need Minerva alive for episode 4; Louis can't kill her, he can't miss, and he's not going to stay with her because we need Violet to stay on the boat and him to be on shore for all routes.
#asks#twdg louis#twdg minerva#twdg clementine#twdg violet#twdg marlon#twdg tenn#honestly whenever i see someone say louis is the boring option i'm just like '.......that's your opinion but also how can you say that??'#then again i'm sure other people look at me saying violentine just isn't for me and they say the same thing so y'know... i can't talk haha#also time is such a weird thing because i look at the entire cell scene in louis' route and like... i'm not even mad about violet anymore#like yeah i still don't believe she was brainwashed like i'm sorry y'all only believe that because kent said something about it#not because there's all this evidence toward it in game like vi being pissed at clementine makes sense she doesn't need to be brainwashed#for it to work like her being vulnerable and easily manipulated into submission makes perfect sense especially with minerva there#it's like everyone was pissed that she attacked clementine and people needed a way to excuse it so it's not violet's fault when like...#that's literally what makes it interesting like calm down it's okay if violet is pissed and scared and behaves accordingly#also my controversial opinion of the day that i'll hide here in the tags so maybe people won't find it sksksk but#I personally find the concept of vinerva and the doomed tragedy of it more compelling than anything violentine did#like i'll defend violentine and i do believe it's an important and good ship it's just not my personal favorite#anyway but then the whole thing with lilly and minerva is so good and louis screaming FUCK YOU at minerva?? amazing love it so good#i love when the soft character who never chooses violence is so pissed off that all that anger they have boils to the surface and it's raw#like... he's SO mad he's SO furious he's SOOO UPSET like he wasn't even like this when marlon died or anything like he hit his limit#and then shooting dorian through the mouth while an accident is just well done i love it and i love his reaction of mortification#and apologizing and YET he still tries to go with clementine he's trembling and can barely string together a sentence but he wants to go#he wants to help her he wants to save aj THAT is the gut reaction he has after everything that just went down#'louis isn't loyal or good for clem because of the vote' babe tell me you don't understand any nuance of louis' character without telling m#it's fine IT'S FINE you don't have to agree and i just have to remind myself that it's fine not everyone likes louis we're okay#this drives me crazy in the best way like y'know what? i love the cells scene in louis' route all of it even the stuff i used to rant about#even the stuff that used to piss me off now i'm just like 'no wait past cj was dumb she wasn't looking at it this way aaaaaaaa' sksksks#that was my tag ted talk about the cell scene thank you
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Sorry I'm on the pain train today, but I really think that Moiraine blames herself for what happened to her at the Eye all throughout season 2. This is a woman who has a plan within a plan within a plan, and even though she is fully aware of how dangerous the mission is, and how she is almost certainly going to die because of it, she still had some very specific expectations for how things were going to go at the (not-so-final) battle. She brought the sa'angreal for Rand to use, and she was ready to channel and fight for him while he woke up/gathered his strength/found a way to touch the Source. The thing she never expected to happen was for Ishamael to be able to cut her off even as she threw her whole body into channeling to protect Rand. We know how powerful she is. We know that this was her final mission. A suicide mission. Her entire being was devoted to that final channel and when Ishamael shields her, the sound she makes--total disbelief, panic--betrays the fact that she never imagined that he would be able to do what he did. She thought he might kill her for sure, and that she'd go out in a blaze of glory, but this? Left behind as a Forsaken's plaything? It was never something that crossed her mind.
The first shot of her we see in season 2 is her lugging those buckets of water across this massive canyon at Tifan's Well. There are cicadas buzzing, the brush is scrubby and everything (barely) grows in sand. It's hot as balls. And she is out there bringing bucket after bucket home so she can be in this tepid bath, reliving what happened to her and wishing, wishing, wishing she hadn't channeled in that moment. I think Verin is right to point out that this could be seen as an indicator of her strength in many ways, and Moiraine herself would probably appreciate hearing that ("Moiraine didn't know the meaning of the words 'give up'"), but I personally see it as a form of self-harm. She is punishing herself every day for what she believes she "let" happen to her. We also see her lash out at Lan later on, when he tells her that even multiple Aes Sedai couldn't still a person. She completely loses it and yells at him in an attempt to communicate how powerful the Forsaken actually are. I really read that as a manifestation of her anger toward herself. For not realizing how powerful Ishamael could be. For not making the "right" choice in that moment. Again, for "letting" him do what he did to her. We know that stilling is seen as a direct parallel to a violation (an assault) and it is a really common response to relive the situation in that way and blame oneself for something that isn't even close to being the survivor's fault. It makes sense that Moiraine's trauma response would be to blame herself. It also makes it about twenty million times more heartbreaking to watch relevant scenes later on, like when she talks to Rand about what a shield feels like (she is so angry in that scene, and again, I read it not just as anger directed toward Ishamael, but a very profound, overwhelming anger toward herself), or when she seems ashamed to let Rand look at her with the One Power at Lan's request. She can't even look at Rand (or Lan, for that matter) in that moment. She casts her eyes down. She doesn't want anyone to see her in that state, and it speaks to the enormous weight of the humiliation and shame that she's been carrying all season long.
Basically, I just want someone to cradle her tightly in their arms and just tell her over and over that it wasn't her fault. That what happened to her was Ishamael's choice and his alone. That it was his cruelty, and not anything she did or didn't do, that resulted in her condition.
#tw assault#moiraine damodred#lan mandragoran#moiraine and lan#moiraine's story from this season genuinely makes me cry whenever i think about it for too long#i can't understand why people think she's being needlessly cruel or unreasonable in her treatment of... everyone after she is shielded#of COURSE she is acting the way she is#not only is she traumatized#she is so fucking humiliated and furious and full of such heavy shame#and most of it is directed toward herself#anything else we see directed at others is just a hint of how she must be talking to herself#tw self harm#tw self destructive behavior
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AILess Whumptober Day 27: Locked Up/Immortal
The final entry, late but complete! I figured that I put Alice through the ringer all the time, it might be Jasper's turn. I had a very specific image of how this would look in my head that did not want to be translated to the page. I've also looked at this so long that I cannot look at it any longer.
So, enjoy whatever this is! I hope you all enjoyed Whumptober and were suitably depressed after my contributions to this event my loves <3
iron & stone. (day 27: imprisoned/immortal).
twilight, alice/jasper, pg, one-sided vampire alice/demon jasper.
very non-graphic wound description
She finds him in an old church in Tulsita, Texas. It’s a tiny place, one that has less than thirty people.
It’s a grim little town, with worn buildings and cracked roads; the air is thick and hot, even late at night. It’s the perfect place to be forgotten about, to be trapped. It’s a place that feels like it isn’t part of the real world, and like maybe time has frozen.
There’s an edge of dread in the air, and she has to wonder about that.
But mostly, she just feels anticipation.
It’s taken her thirty years to find him, she’s looked everywhere. She’s read everything. She’s recorded all her visions and made all the notes. She’s learned Spanish, Italian, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin for him. She’s practically a scholar on him and his kind now.
She’s still nervous.
(There are three kinds of demons - the oldest ones who have existed for always, those are the ones that should never been disturbed or called upon. Then there are the ones that are born naturally - very rare but possible. And then there are the ones that are made. Not like vampires - in the demon world vampires are half-breed cockroaches, endemic to humanity, according to the books she’s read. The change isn’t half the pain and suffering that being turned into a demon is - she knows that.)
She walks through forest surrounding the building carefully - it’s unlikely that anyone will see her, but she prefers to err on the side of cautious. Especially since it’s very, very clear that someone does visit regularly (relatively speaking, of course - time moves very differently for immortals.)
The church is thoroughly abandoned, the pews rotten and broken and the floor tiles cracked and scattered - what would have been an expensive point of pride lost to time and neglect. What is left of the prayer books are ruined cardboard covers covered in mould. The altar is pulled right down and destroyed; all but one of the windows is boarded up. Glass crunches underfoot - a mix of the remain window’s panes, and broken beer bottles scattered around.
And as she stands there and looks around, she wonders how anyone set foot in this place, even just to hide and drink, when she can feel his presence right here? That boiling rage, that uneasy feeling in the air - the gift of animal fear, that whatever this place contains is dangerous and they need to run. It’s all around her, yelling at her to leave and never come back.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Edward and Carlisle would be furious she’s come here by herself. When she’d worked it all out, when she’d told them what her visions had shown her, they’d acted like he was dead and gone and she’d just have to get used to walking the world alone. They expected grief and she’d been confused - Carlisle had insisted that he was as good as dead, and Alice needed to make her peace with that.
Alice could never bring him home. That the Cullen residence, the Cullen name, had no place for monsters and terrors and the things that little children hide from. And she had agreed with them politely, told them that she understood. And she did. They had thought she was mourning, taking her time to adjust to what her life would look like now.
Esme had tried to talk with her, but Alice had refused, and just closed herself up in her bedroom. And they had let her be.
They hadn’t expected her to pack her things in the same satchel she arrived with, to leave behind her locket with a letter thanking them for their hospitality; shedding the Cullen name and creed like an unfashionable winter coat.
If there was no place for monsters amongst the Cullens, then she certainly wasn’t welcome. They forget that she was a nomad, a vampire before she arrived at their house with a smile and golden eyes. They forget that she has a whole story before she ever found them, and that it’s not all pretty and kind.
(No place for monsters, when Carlisle went and changed four innocent people without consent? When suicide is a sin and so is murder? That she loves them fiercely but to be a family is to realize that none of them are perfect and holy and unsullied by their nature? The House of Cullen is so beautifully monstrous, she almost feels sorry for them for not seeing that.)
She had made herself once, exactly how she wanted, and she could do it again. Maybe one day she’ll visit them. See if they forgive her. Esme will. Emmett will. Rose might. But Carlisle and Edward… well, it depends on a lot of things.
Like what lies beneath the church.
It takes her a while to find the little trapdoor down into the earth behind the altar, covered with broken wood and tile, and chained up with a shiny new padlock that crumples like paper in her determined hand. The steps down are mostly rotten - slats of wood wedged roughly into the earth - but she is small and light, and slips down easily, down into a cellar dug too deep and too precisely to be created for anything but a very specific purpose, with the little alcoves in the wall with wells of oil to light the way - only a few of them are still barely burning, throwing bizarre shadows onto the walls.
Everything about this is screaming for her to turn back. Every instinct, every sign is telling her to go home. Except…
She saw him so many times, in hundreds of moments that will weave between them. The laughter and the jokes and the love. She’s seen the way he’ll protect her and change her, and she’ll do the same for him. He’ll look at her with loathing and then tolerance and smug power, and finally, soul-binding love and adoration. The scars she’ll bare will be in the shape of his jaw. She’ll trace his scars with her fingers and her mouth and her tongue; she knows all the little pieces of his story - the boring and the ugly and the difficult, as well as the fragments that are light and precious.
She can’t wait.
But this… this part she’s never seen properly and maybe her brain was protecting her.
The room is small, and little more than dirt and stone held up with rotting beams - buckled and warped, but holding steady for now. It smells rotten down here, almost burnt.
And then there is him.
He lies in the middle, on the stone, his head thrown back like a sacrifice about to be cut open in the name of some ancient god. His eyes are closed and if she didn’t know better, she would think he was asleep. She can see him properly like this, the muscular lines of his torso, the tendons in his neck, the strength in his arms and legs. He looks like a classical Greek sculpture celebrating rapture.
Except… there’s pain. The pain radiates off him like heat; most of the scars are old but the wounds are not. Or maybe they can’t heal. Burns and cuts and bone-deep gouges cover every part of him. There’s a tremor to his body that she doesn’t understand.
And then he hears her shoes on the stone floor and he lunges in one swift move, alert and ready, a snarl echoing in the space.
…Or what should have been one swift move.
Instead, it’s messy and horrific and takes her a moment to process, as she tumbles backwards, losing her footing as he comes at her.
He rips himself from the stone, pieces of skin from his legs sticking to the floor when he moves, leaving open wounds that looks almost like burns on every piece of skin that the stone touched. His legs buckle and shake at the sudden movement, evidence that he has not stood in a very long time.
His eyes are so black they look like empty sockets as he looms over her. Blackness spreads up his hands and arms, spidery black veins stretching from his eyes and throat. For a moment, she thinks she catches a glimpse of the wings; ghost-like and ephemeral in the corner of her eye, tattered void stretched over ancient bone, cracking into place no longer than his arm span.
(He’s magnificent.)
And just as suddenly as he hovers over her, he is ripped backwards and hits the floor with a hiss and the heavy clank of chains pulling tight and recoiling. She gasps at his visible pain, the way he struggles to get up, the demonic visage fading back into the skin of a man. A man in the worst kind of pain she’s ever seen.
“Get out.” His voice is hoarse, the kind that hurts to listen to, and he turns away from her. She can see the chains properly now - ankles, wrists, throat, and thighs, all connecting to a back-brace of iron. The wings have sunk back into his flesh, deep scarring almost outlining them on his back, and she hates to think how painful it was to stretch them imprisoned like this.
How long has he been here, like this? As beautiful as he is, she can see every hour, day, decade he’s spent here in the gaunt shadows of his face, in the decay in his clothing, in the layers upon layers of scars and open wounds. His eyes are hard; there is no hope or trust in them at all.
She always knew it would be difficult, but she never counted on what seeing him in this state would be like. How much it would ache to see this bitter shadow of a man, and the suffering he has lived through.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she says, sitting up. Her bag has survived the fall, but she prepared for it. Nothing in the bag is breakable, for good reason. He’s liable to get angrier.
“Oh?” He looks at her. “You long for death so badly?” His voice is mocking, but she can hear the strain, the rasp of his agony. He shifts to see her better, and she can almost see ghost of his future self.
“Only of a certain kind,” she murmurs to try and lighten the mood, but it falls flat - he’s giving her the kind of look Edward reserved for fawning classmates, so she feels adequately stupid and regrets being so flippant and crude. “You’re hurt. I want to help you.”
He is so badly hurt. The fresh burns smell like alcohol, raw and weeping blood. It’s oddly matte with no shine, but demon blood isn’t like human blood. There’s also a mottled black mark on his torso that she hopes is some terrible bruise and not broken bone just beneath the skin.
“Go away.” His voice is hard, no trace of the pain or misery he’s experiencing. There is a power and a rage there that makes her skin crawl and every instinct is telling her to run. He glares at her, and his eyes… she’s seen them red and gold and black, but right now they are demonic - a black sclera and pupil with churning red iris. But there is no shine to them, just a void. They scream of danger and she understands a little better why Carlisle warned her so grimly away from him.
“No.” She rummages in her bag. Aro had allowed her to use the library for a whole summer, to learn about demon physiology and healing. He’d been amused by her request - and by the discovery she’d left Carlisle’s family in pursuit of this demon. She knows that he’s already plotting, that nothing he offers is without strings attached, but she’ll worry about that later. She has the knowledge, and that is what is most important. “Let me help you.”
“Why do you want to help me? What do you want?” He’s holding himself oddly, and she realizes he’s trying not to touch the stone again, only the soles of his feet.
“To help you. And to talk.” She checks the bottles have not split in her bag; she’d used old water bottles, and a few of them are warping from the chemicals inside of them. But she’d gone over it a dozen times at least, and these will work. He just needs to let her help. “If you don’t like what I have to say, you can leave. Nothing about this is conditional.”
He stares at her. “You don’t want to be remade?” He asked suspiciously. His breathing is labored. “You don’t want all the secrets of the underworld? Wealth? To live again?”
She shakes her head. “I have money and a home of my own. And I have no memory of ever being anything else but what I am right now. The only thing I want is to help you.”
He lets out a bark of laughter. “You say that. But you’ll expect things. Everyone who comes here does. They always want. Humans are greedy creatures and vampires are parasites. You’ll want something, they all do,” he snaps at her and then he smiles, cruel and sharp. “Not many survive being remade. Maria tried to make a dozen of us. I was the only one of my batch that made it through. You have no idea what pain can be.” He scoffs. “Especially if the change was so overwhelming for you that you blocked it out.”
“I know.” She does. She’s read all the written accounts of being remade into a demon right back to some scraps of information from the Roman Empire; the rituals are mostly anecdotal. There was nothing about how it was done; even Aro didn’t have a full copy of how to remake someone. Several of the leads pointed towards the possibility of the remaining instructions being locked up in the Vatican, but even her visions couldn’t decipher if they were genuine or just a rumor.
The fact Maria of Monterrey had found a record and managed to translate it into a ritual that actually worked was awe-inspiring. It made her one of the most dangerous people on the planet - and one of the most powerful.
But the cost of it… how many people had she killed to create Jasper? To create her army? There were the newborn recruits, the blood for the army, and the ones that she tried to remake… that was thousands, more than Alice could comprehend in the scale of human life.
No, she’s not interested. Perhaps she even fears physical pain a little, because she has no memory of human pain, of the change. She’s never bled, never ached, never really suffered like that. And that unknown void of pain, a universal emotion understood by every living thing on the planet… she doesn’t have that.
But maybe…
“I’ve never been hurt,” she says softly. “Not that I remember. I can’t stand the thought of it. That something can feel like that. If I can stop it, I want to. That’s all.”
His gaze burns into her.
“Do you know how many people have come here and promised me things?” He sounds angry but tired. “They’ll free me, they’ll give me money and food and bandage me up. My own army. Girls. Boys. Anything I goddamn want. Do you know what happens to them?”
She sits cross-legged. “Don’t pretend you killed them.”
“You don’t think I could?” The look on his face is dangerous.
“I know you could. I know that if you really wanted to, I would have been dead before I saw you move. I know that you were the most dangerous man in Texas and Mexico for decades before I was even born - before you were remade.
“But I don’t see any bodies. No bloodstains, no bones, nothing left behind. There’s nothing here. Whatever they offered you, you didn’t kill them for it.”
“When I didn’t give them what they want, they left me here,” he says finally. “All of them.”
“Were there many?” That she is curious about. There are a hundred reasons to seek out a demon, but few people are brave enough, and fewer still with the information to find one.
“More than I expected.” He looks at her, his gaze hard and bitter. “What do you want?”
“To help you,” she says obediently. “To get you out of the chains and upstairs; maybe look at some of those wounds? I’m no doctor, but I think I know what to do.”
“And what is your price?” He sounds testy again, and she’s getting annoyed that he won’t listen.
“I’m a cheap date - maybe you can just not kill me? Once you’re free, maybe we could talk for a little while? I have a house we can go to where you can recover safely, if you want to. Otherwise we part as friends.” That would be a disappointing outcome but one she is prepared for. “As long as you’re okay to be alone. I didn’t go to all this trouble to let you go off on your own and keel over in the street dead.”
The surprise on his face is genuine. “I cannot die from this. That’s the whole point of being down here,” he said slowly. “I can only suffer. It would take much, much more to end me.”
He looks sad and tired when he says that, and she wants to hold him. To reassure him that it will get better. It can be wonderful, if he gives her a chance.
“Good. Then if you want to leave me, you can. Just let me help you, and everything will be okay, I promise.”
They stare at each other for a long time, neither of them flinching before he nods his head once.
“I hold a grudge. If you double-cross me…” he begins but she’s already moving closer.
“I understand.” And she does - she’s had visions of him in battle, and the sheer violence and blood-lust had scared her. He is a dangerous creature. But she’d be more likely to rip off her own arm than intentionally harm him.
“You’ll want to take off your shoes.”
It’s an odd request but she takes off her boots and moves forward.
One foot on the stone and she can feel the warmth inside of it; when she looks down, her stockings are already being to singe from the heat.
“Keep moving, or you’ll stick,” he warns and she’s horrified.
The stains on the stone that she had assumed were age were patches of blackened skin still stuck to the stone - his skin - that had torn away from him every single time that he moved.
And then there was the sudden awareness of that fact that his feet have been resting flat against the stone since they’ve started speaking, and she wants to scream, to pry him off the stone herself. She looks at him in naked horror and his lip quirks in quasi-amusement at her expression.
“It’s consecrated ground - no matter how deep it goes, it will always burn the likes of us - me worse than you, but I wouldn’t linger. And no, your shoes wouldn’t protect you.”
Consecrated ground. Fucking consecrated ground. She’d read about it - Europe was lousy with it, but much of it has faded away forgotten and unsanctified in the last couple of centuries as religion has lost its grip on the population. It’s much rarer in the states - most of it is in New England, allegedly. But this perfectly built little prison, complete with consecrated ground… she wants to ask a million questions about the how and the why, but she knows he won’t answer. Not yet.
Right now, she needs to get him off of the floor and out of this evil little room as soon as possible. And the first step is to break the chains embedded in the wall - where a single panel of rock is placed.
She’ll worry about getting the brace off of him once they’re out of here.
He watches her, almost entertained, as she tries to break the links, inspecting the chain carefully for flaws or weaknesses. But even with all her strength, they don’t even bend. They are stubborn and as cursed as this entire basement.
She can feel it - they cannot be broken. She can’t see a way around it.
But when she looks down at him watching her, at his dead-eyed stare of acceptance that he will not be leaving, she feels the weight of what she’s promised him. That he still believes that she will fail and leave him to his fate.
But she was Emmett Cullen’s sister for nearly three years, and Emmett had never met a law, a riddle, a trap or a rule that he couldn’t find a loophole for.
Which is why she brought a screwdriver. An entire toolkit, actually. Whilst vampire strength and speed could fix so many problems, there were some things that required the precision of a toolkit or a lock pick. And maybe the last gift Emmett ever gave her was a mini pink toolkit, and she’d taken that when she’d left.
If there was one thing that all her research had taught her was that magical laws are rigid and precise. The chains will not and can not be broken - that is clear to both of them. She probably isn’t the first that has tried over the years - she could only imagine that he’s tried to free himself hundreds, probably thousands, of times.
So they cannot break them.
She doubts anyone bothered to stop them from being dismantled.
He stares at her incredulously when she pulls the screwdriver from her bag, like maybe she’s some kind of fool. And maybe she is.
But when the first screw hits the stone, she smiles brightly at the look of shock on his face.
“Pick all of them up, I don’t want anyone knowing how we figured this out,” she says bossily, hopping between her feet - her stockings have burnt through, ragged blacked edges having stretched back up above her ankle. She has more clothing at the house, but she’s mildly annoyed at the architect of this building for ruining them. It’s an uncomfortable heat, an odd sensation, but it doesn’t feel too bad as long as she keeps moving.
He fumbles for the screws as each of them fall - they are smaller than it feels like they should be for the size and weight of the chains, but there are so many of them.
And then…
And then the heavy chains drop free of the wall, and he is free. He stares at them in total bewilderment before he looks back up at her.
“Now you’re free,” she says breathlessly, jamming the screwdriver into her bag, and goes to help him stand. He’s unsteady but takes a deep breath as he begins to peel his feet from the stone. It’s horrific as the skin of his soles tears away, blistered and raw but not yet blackened, thankfully. He lets out a groan of pain, one that makes him sound every single day of his age, every single day of his pain.
She doesn’t say anything, she just supports him until they are finally, finally back on the dirt floor.
“Do you want to sit?” She asks quietly and he shakes his head.
“I want to get out,” he says stiffly, and she nods, as they move towards the exit.
It’s an awkward trip back up the stairs; the staircase is narrow, but he needs her guiding support for now, his legs shaking with each step. It takes twice as long as it should, with him pausing every so many steps, as she half-shoves him onto each step. His movements are made awkward from the brace, and she’s already trying to figure out how she’ll pry that thing off him.
And then…
She shoves open the trap door, the wood splintering. And even the feeble moonlight shining down from the broken window feels like someone has just lit up the room - the darkness of the cellar feels inky and oppressive in comparison; the oil-wells dimmer than they were when she descended.
He lets out a shuddering breath as he climbs out, into the fresh air, his eyes darting around the space.
“It’s okay, it’s only us,” she soothes. “You’re safe.”
He nods, but he doesn’t look at her. He’s staring at the boarded-up windows, at the broken glass and rotting pews and forgotten prayer books.
The look on his face reminds her of herself, when she awoke that first time in the woods alone. She knew nothing, had seen nothing in person… just the appreciation and awe of being there, in that place. A moment of simply being alive and in the world.
She remembers it well.
—
They sit inside the old church in silence for a while.
After a while, she begins to pull out first aid from her bag. “Let me,” she says softly, and he doesn’t protest - though he refuses to let her see the wounds under his threadbare clothing. She hasn’t got anything that will stitch his wounds, but she can clean the wounds and bandage them so that they at least stay sanitized and protected. The chemicals she has to use burn her nose, but they seem to work.
“Now, let’s have a look at the brace,” she says soothingly, the screwdriver back in her hand. He eyes her with suspicion but nods once for her to continue.
It’s not as easy as the chains. The brace is too tight and has bitten tight into his skin. The screws come out slowly, ad she doesn’t care that they roll amongst the glass and the debris.
The brace doesn’t fall away. Instead, she has to peal each piece away, skin and scar tissue tearing, leaving raw open wounds in their wake. But he doesn’t make a sound as each piece hits the floor. He just stares up at the piece of sky he can see.
And then it is gone. The wounds will scar, she knows it. But he has movement back, real movement again. His neck, his arms, his wings… Free again, a little bit more.
“Done,” she says softly.
“I don’t even know your name,” he finally says hoarsely, and looks back down at her, as she packs everything back up.
“Alice Cullen,” she says, and thinks about correcting herself. She’s not sure what surname she should be using honestly. She never had one of her own, and nothing else feels like it would fit. She was supposed to be Cullen for a while and then…
Well, she didn’t want to get ahead of herself. Cullen was fine.
He nods in acknowledgement before looking back up at the sliver of sky visible through the broken window.
“I want to leave this place,” he says in a steady voice.
“Of course.”
She wants to offer to burn it down. To tear it down with her bare hands for him. But he won’t understand, not yet.
“Let’s go.”
—
He finds his strength as soon as his feet hit the grass, enough to stand on his own and move away from her support, onto the grass, shivering as his feet sunk in for the first time… in so very long. His turns in a slow circle, just staring up at the clouds and the trees and the world outside he’s hellish, cursed little dirt prison.
He… to call it a scream is not accurate. It is a scream, a roar, a holler, a flood of grief and rage and resentment. It is pain and loss, swearing revenge against the one that did this to him. It is regret and heartbreak and relief.
He is free.
His wings stretch out reflexively, the black staining his hands and face faintly, and the full horror of what the brace has done to him is revealed beyond the splitting and tearing and stretching of the wounds - his wings only open as long as his arm-span; the humeral and secondaries appear to have been crushed from the brace. And the humerus bone appears to have been snapped and reset so that it cannot extend. Half of his wings are limp and crumpled against his spine, a dead and mottled colour.
He has been crippled, possibly forever.
Except…
She’s never really been in the business of giving up. Of looking at something and accepting a bad roll of the dice. She looks at his wings, slack and broken, and she wants to fix them. She’s already considering it, mentally adding splints and bandages, breaking and resetting bone, stitching back together the thin flesh that stretches over them. It would be painful and miserable and it would take a long, long time. And it might not work.
But she already knows that if it didn’t work, she’d take him to Carlisle. She’d take him to Carlisle and use every single trick in her book to convince him to help. She’d promise that Carlisle would never see her again, that she’d never bother any of them, if Carlisle would just fix him. She’d take him to Carlisle, to Aro, to goddamn Maria, if it meant helping.
Anything he needed. Or wanted. She would get it - she had waited for this for so long.
He’s silent now, and he turns to look at her with confusion on his face.
“I looked for you, you know. For almost forty years.” Her voice is soft, and his gaze turns wary. “I get …visions of the future. Of the path that I’m on. And you have always been in them. I saw you with Maria in the south. I saw you when you left with Peter and Charlotte. I never saw what happened, and how you ended up down there but I tried so hard to find you. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
And he stares at her, the black receding from his body, the wings folding back into his body.
“What did you see?” He asks, and he sounds exhausted.
“That I love you. All of you, for as long as you’ll have me.”
He shakes his head, and for a second, he looks so young. “Did you see what happened when she remade me? When she worked out how to make her army more powerful?” He asks. “Did you see what it took to become this? Did you see what I became?”
“I did.”
“Ninety days. Of pain and sacrifice and being ripped into pieces and put back together. To feel the rage boil and burn until your skin,” he murmurs, looking back up at the cloudy night. “Of having this fresh, feral monstrosity of yourself fit itself inside of you and this… clarity of the world and how everything fits together. I’m not the man you want, Alice Cullen.”
“Yes, you are. And it’s … not Cullen anymore, not really. I left them because they wouldn’t let me find you.”
He’s silent, staring at her.
“They said I should think of you as good as dead and that wasn’t… you were still here. I just had to find you. I wasn’t going to mourn you just because you weren’t a vampire anymore. What Maria did to you didn’t change our future, so it didn’t matter to me. But it did to them. So I left them.” She shrugs. “I had enough money saved that I have my own home now - our home if you want it. But it’ll just be us.”
He looks at her hard, like he’s trying to look right through her.
“I was going to destroy you, you realize,” he says finally, his knees buckling but he sinks into the soft ground with dignity, leaning against a tree. “I was going to devour you whole.”
“I mean, with a safe word…” she begins and he lets out a chuckle.
“You aren’t what I was expecting,” he says finally, and she moves closer. She can smell rain on the air. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t want to be remade like me as payment.”
She’s seen it. In a few decades, he’ll offer it as a form of protection. That the only thing more dangerous than a mated vampire and demon would be two mated demons roaming untethered to a master or mistress.
She’s seen futures where she accepts and they are … sublime. Glorious and terrible and so very, very happy. And she’s seen futures where she’s content with herself, and they are just as happy, just as fantastic and beautiful and fatal. It was never about the venom or the magic that flowed in their veins. It was always them.
“If you don’t want to stay with me, I can help you find Peter and Charlotte,” she offers. “You can recover in my home until then, and we can part as friends.”
He looks back up at the sky as the rain begins to fall, a smile stretching across his face as the water hits his face.
How long has it been since he’s seen and felt rain?
“I think I’d like to stay here for a while,” he says finally, and she can feel how tired and confused he is.
He doesn’t trust her yet - it will be a long time until he does, she knows that. Long after his wounds have healed - she’s certainly got some ideas for his wings, but it’ll be a while before he’s willing to hear her out - he’ll still treat her with suspicion. And that’s okay. She didn’t bet everything on him to be scared off so easily.
Sitting down beside him, she’s careful not to touch him. His eyes are glazed and dreamy as he watches the clouds and the rain, the darkness swallowing them up in the woods behind the church.
“You should rest,” she says softly. “We’ll have to leave before dawn, but we have a few hours.”
“I’m fine,” he corrects, but his words are slower and easier, and she doesn’t say anything else as he slowly drifts off, the cool rain on his face.
Jasper Whitlock. Major of the Confederate Army, turned by Maria of Monterrey back in 1863. The love of her life, who was supposed to show up at a diner in Philadelphia but never made it. The scourge of the South, a mythological monster forged out of pain and horror that most people couldn’t imagine, let alone survive.
And her reason for everything.
He looks… peaceful as he sleeps, the rain clinging to him and not even disturbing him. All the stress and pain and rage slipped off his face. He looked like a different person.
She doesn’t remember what sleep is like, and it’s strange to think of just not being for a while. To just be so vulnerable.
It’s a strange feeling, waiting for so long, and now being here with him. Watching him sleep in the rain, broken up into little pieces but somehow still standing.
The real thing is so much more than she ever anticipated.
Nothing will hurt him again. No one will imprison him again. He is free. She found him. Anything he wants, anything at all.
“I’ve got you, Jasper. I’ve got you."
#ailesswhumptober2023#ailesswhumptober#jalice#jasper hale#alice cullen#my fic: one shots#demon jasper#imprisoned jasper#this did not turn out how it was supposed to#it looked different in my head#maria fucked around with the supernatural and became too powerful#aro is up to his eyeballs in this and playing dumb to alice#carlisle is SO worried about alice#she just left and they never heard from her again#i wish i had more time for Lore#but yeah peter was remade too#and he remade charlotte himself#a little demon club#it will take time for jasper to tolerate then befriend then fall in love with alice#he'd be furious with himself that he fell asleep in front of her#me and my nonsense
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I think this is a mega unpopular opinion among arwen enjoyers but I love the banishment scene in 4x09 actually. yes it's tragic, yes it's painful, but it's precisely because of how much they loved each other. its greatly written and bradley and angel are both incredible in it. I haven't managed to find a proper gif set of that scene yet which is a crime
#yes I love angst!! sue me#I'm sorry I think its very in character for arthur actually#he was hurt he was heartbroken he was furious#and even then he addresses gwen with almost... tenderness?#“what happened guinevere. we were happy”#“what happened”!! = where did I go wrong#he gives her the benefit of the doubt#he goes “god maybe it was my fault. because she wouldn't.”#“if you had doubts...” (!!!)#if you had doubts YOU COULD HAVE TALKED TO ME.#YOU KNOW YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME ANYTHING.#“but he banished her!!” WELL YES his council fully expected him to execute gwen. which would have been the standard procedure#(“do you know what they are saying?” > !!! the ever-watching eyes of the court)#he's still the king. he's been made a fool of. in front of everyone#he's lost and confused and he's just been betrayed by the person he trusted most in the whole world like#he is not exactly clear-headed. ok#and poor gwen can't even explain why the fuck she did what she did (obviously) which doesn't help#oh god I could go on and on about this. I'll stop#unpopular opinions#arwen#merlin
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this hit me so hard in so many ways
#she knows because she is one and that she was trying to somehow not let geto feel blame for amanai (spv)#but also she is always furious at what becomes of the spv when confronting tengen just like geto and gojo were with amanai#also another thing that flew over my head when I originally read it years ago#because i just assumed she was just aware of tengen's state#but it's actually because she's a spv UGH#jjk#jjk s2#jjk spoilers#jjk s2 spoilers#also makes me think about if that's why she wanted to meet gojo#bc spv is connected by fate to the six eyes or whatever tengen said#gege never showing a conversation between the two because the information she has UGH#or like is that the irony too because despite the fate stuff they never met as far as we know idk#gege what the fuck
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so I just rewatched the Scott Pilgrim film after reading all the graphics novels and I am so confused rn about Roxie's outfit WHY IS SHE DRESSED LIKE THAT?? WHEN DOES SHE EVER DRESS REMOTELY LIKE THAT IN THE GRAPHIC NOVELS WHAT
Also the knee thing GOD I hate it I mean I hated it before but now that I know they changed it from Envy to Roxie for absolutely no reason I hate it EVEN MORE
Why do they do this to her my poor half ninja gal they do her so dirty 😭
#why on earth is she hyper SEXUALISED like that in the film why do they do that what the helll#the best evil ex and you're gonna do her like that what the fuck#IS THERE AN EXPLAINATION FOR THIS#that isn't just 'hollywood is mean to lesbians ig' because that might just be the explaination#I am so bi-furious about this rn#I mean what#not only do you give her two minutes of screen time THIS IS THAT SCREEN TIME???#also the vague bi phobia in the film absolutely kills me#I love edgar wright so much but jesus man#I'm vaguely disappointed#roxie richter#scott pilgrim#scott pilgrim vs the world
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how to cure the sudden onset of horrible and inexplicable rage
#bobbi babbling#ive tried punching my mattress and screaming and jumping around and throwing pillows#im still furious#there’s literally no reason for it either#it’s just because i have fucking BPD#i’m so angry#my voice is too high i sound like a girl and i cant hit any of yhe notes i want#and the singer is a woman! and she has a deeper voice than i do!!!#i hate my voice!#and my parents dont give a shit about anything i have to say but they expect me to just listen to them#and be the perfect obedient little puppet of a daughter#they didnt even do anything actually. they just dont care about music or stranger things so they dont listen when i talk about either#but they don’t care about ANYTHING i say! they dont even care about ME or what makes me happy!#all my dad cares about is if im STUDYING#I DONT WANT TO STUDYY IM ANGRY#I HATE EVERYBODY AND I HATE MYSELF#i want everybody to just go away#i want them all to just fucking die!#no i dont. thats bad. i dont want them to die.#I HATE EVERYTHING#I WANNA JUMP OUT A WINDOW#I HATE EVERYONE#i hate having fucking BPD what is WRONG with me#WHY AM I SO ANGRY?!#bpd posting#and im so unremarkable#everyone is better than me#everyone is talented at SOMETHING#everyone else is special#why am i not remarkable at anything
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Characters given it all in a battle and falling into their partner’s/loved one’s/rival’s/someone important’s arms and said person then finishing the rest of the battle on their behalf is a trope I am a big fat SLUT for.
#you did very well mon chaton#i'm so so proud of you#if you dare to lay a hand on my partner again#i will find you myself and destroy everything you have ever loved#delete later#in fact i should write or draw some of that#like maybe chat noir early at an akuma battle and ladybug is running late#but this akuma is so fucking destructive and dangerous and chat noir has been giving it his all without hurting said akuma or the people#around them cos the akuma is a victim too so he can't just cataclysm its ass#and he's teetering on his legs and vision is going blurry#but he has faith that ladybug will come#AND SHE DOES#just as he's about to pass out#he lands in her arms and his face against her chest#and he wonders if he's dreaming#but then she gives him that brilliant and loving smile#maybe she even brushes his fringe to the side and whispers#and she puts him to one side for safety#and the akuma isn't thrilled cos its ass has been half beat up by chat noir#and then gets pummelled by an angry and furious ladybug#and as she has the akuma by the neck she icily threatens le papillion through the connection#NOOOOO THE TAGS ARE OUT OF ORDER FUCK YOU TUMBLR
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feeling some rather intense thoughts and emotions over steps that arent mine, about an au that i did not create.
@/idlenight if you see this im sorry but i had to borrow your boy because it was all i could think about after seeing aurries tags
#ok but#julia and river bonding over living in others(specifically ricardos) shadow#julia was always just surge#the second in command to marshal charge himself#everybody always saw her as the lesser sibling#meanwhile river was charges sidekick#could never be seen by anybody as anything more than an extension of another person#julia loves her brother but she cant deny some of the things river says about him#when heartbreak happens shes devastated#not only did she lose her best friend#she lost the only person who really understood her#who would choose her over marshal fucking charge#and maybe she blames ricardo for his death. for not shutting river down completely when he insisted on going. its stupid but she cant help i#fast forward a few years and they both managed to pull eachother out of their post hb messes#theyre working together as a team and equals this time#julia finds river at the diner first#its the best thing thats ever happened to her even if river is so... different now#she got her best friend back and thats all that matters to her#then one way or another she finds out that river is the new sidestep#shes furious and horrified and grieving the man that he was but she doesnt tell a soul#not even ric. /especially/ not ric#and little by little? she starts agreeing with him. helping him even. until she reaches a breaking point and Very Publicly switches sides#probably throws a few curses ricardos way on love tv too#do you think chens relationship with river strains after that#chen tries convincing river to get julia to drop villainy#meanwhile river is having none of that shit#also would river use it as an excuse to finally chew out ricardo in rangers hq lmfao#i have to sleep now so bad but#nmoc: river becker#ortega
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I thought of this before in passing but it's really just hit me that oh my god if any of the current animatronics knew Foxy well enough before everything that happened, and Roxy didn't know about that stuff, then a good chunk of them would have been lying to Roxy by omission this entire fucking time
#you can't really blame them#but roxy certainly can and would#only applicable if they spent enough time with him to know what was going on#just. oh my god she'd be fucking furious#chica is completely exempt from this as she never met him#she's not much older than roxy after all. she never had a chance to know this stuff#but oh my god I've had monty be his friend for a while now and never realised this#if roxy doesn't know then he's lied by omission this whole time#so has freddy and possibly sunny and/or moon#maybe even bonnie too like fucking hell#I'm gonna say DJ didn't know the whole story despite knowing him#just oh my god??? i didn't realise I'd set it up like this???#it's only just sunk in... like damn... I'm so sorry i did this to you roxy I didn't even mean to this time#oh my goddddddd what is. i just. roxy... they didn't tell her???? this whole time???#maybe they thought it'd be better this way or it was too painful and they were waiting for her to ask about it#cause she clearly didn't wanna know beforehand!!! i dunno man this is. wow. crazy#fucking WILD
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