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overdrivels · 7 years

Note

Could I request something with the good old-fashioned 'we have to share a bed because there's only one and no one told us beforehand' trope? With either Hanzo or McCree; you can decide which. (Like one of them and the reader get assigned to the same mission and have to stay a hotel or safehouse or something, idk.)

It’s Snow Problem

I am 9000% convinced that Hanzo would take the stupid floor if there wasn’t some really good reason behind it (like the floor was lava). So I mashed up two tropes: one bed + we’re going to freeze to death unless we share body heat.

The only reason why I never picked up this trope was because I would personally pick the floor. I’m very used to sleeping on hard surfaces, so the floor would be my preferred sleeping place unless there was, like I said before, lava.

“Da-damn, t-the–the he-h-heat’s n, not working eith-either?”

You literally could not stop your teeth from chattering or your fingers from trembling as you desperately messed around with the dial on the very, very outdated radiator. Didn’t this cabin have some sort of code to follow? You can’t be sure if the dial isn’t turning because it’s frozen or if you just couldn’t put enough strength into your frozen digits.

“There’s n-no hot water.”

Behind you, Hanzo steps out from the bathroom, barely able to contain the shaking in his voice. His heavy coat was positively encrusted with white, glittering ice decorated his hair, the dying rays of the sun catching them and lighting them up obnoxiously. It showed no sign of melting anytime soon. His face was red with windburn—you’re sure you didn’t look any better—and his breath hung around him like a ghostly veil.

It’d be a miracle if neither of you managed to catch a cold or worse.

You curse your luck and at Winston who sent you both here to Yukon on this mission to investigate rumors about Talon activity. Something about a hidden laboratory deep in the icy tundra of the Yukon. The two of you almost got caved in when you entered the space—it seemed to have been a final defense mechanism for Talon’s abandoned bases.

In hindsight, you really should’ve asked Mei to switch with you when she was assigned to go the Bahamas. Mei looked absolutely miserable when she was asked to go. You have no doubt she has the same thoughts as you at this moment. She never really did like showing off her skin.

It wasn’t as though you were both entirely unprepared–extra set of clothes, self-activating heat packs (courtesy of Genji), blankets, and other supplies that would’ve proven useful in the situation.

That is, if those supplies were drenched in the brief swim they took down some slushy body of water. In your defense, the footing was bad and in both your defenses, neither of you could afford to jump into the fast-moving waters. Luckily, Hanzo had managed to pin it to fallen tree with a well-aimed arrow. Retrieving it proved a little more harrowing than expected: you both nearly fell in when the tree partially gives out, leaving your pants and boots soaked. Luckily, the journey back to the cabin was a short one, saving you both from the possibility freezing your limbs. But not short enough to avoid the storm that is currently raging outside.

You cross the room to look out the window—it’s almost completely frosted over. The telltale ‘squish’ of your boots remind you of just how uncomfortable wet socks are and that they need to come off along with any other clothes that you have on.

“The-the generator’s out-outside. Sh-shit.”

It doesn’t look like the storm is going to let up anytime soon either. Going out there may be the equivalent of suicide. The lingering cold that roots itself firmly into your bones remind you of just how unforgiving the weather can be. The fireplace itself is empty, all the wood being outside. It’s probably all wet anyway.

“There’s no signal,” Hanzo announces, setting his communicator down on the table. You politely ignore how he nearly knocks it to the ground with the way his fingers shake.

“Looks-looks like we-we’ll have to wea-we-weather this one out. God damn it all.”

No electricity, no heat, no communications, no hot water–no people in sight of your tiny cabin window, it’s practically a repeat of the Omnic Crisis, just with less shit burning to the ground. If you both want to survive the night, there were some things you had to handle first. Namely, getting out of these clothes that are no longer doing anything to contain your body heat. A bulb of dread and anxiety drops into your stomach, swimming around for a brief moment.

You take a quick glance at Hanzo who seems preoccupied with checking his bow with whatever little light is left. In a few minutes, you’ll be lucky to see your hands in front of your own faces. It’s a small comfort that he won’t be able to see you (but your traitorous mind wonders what he would think if he did see). You shake your head to cast away those thoughts, droplets of cold water flinging everywhere. First thing’s first.

You take a breath for courage, and begin to tearing off your soaked gloves with your teeth, your other hand too clumsy to be of much help. You almost gag, the taste of melted snow and worn plastic fills your mouth.

Your attempts to undress must’ve attracted Hanzo’s attention. He sounds positively scandalized when he hisses, “What are you doing?”

“We need–we need to get out of these clothes.”

You could sense Hanzo opening his mouth to protest and immediately cut him off before he has a chance to lecture you on dignity. “You’ll fr-freeze, Hanzo. There’s no heat, no hot water, we’re—we’re soaked. Take whatever no-n-notions you have about modesty and shove–shove ‘em; we need to stay alive.” That’s what you’re doing at the moment, anyway.

At his skeptical silence, you add, “I’ll turn around, so no need to worry–I can’t see very well in the dark, anyway.” The wind rattles the windows as though adding to your point.

Little did you know, Hanzo had been specially trained to function in the dark without the need to enhancements or fancy goggles like a certain arachnid. Assassinations didn’t usually take place in broad daylight, after all. Every movement, every twitch of your muscles was easily captured in his eyes. It is beyond distracting, but he’d never let you know that.

Despite his silence, you know that Hanzo understands the sense you are making when you also hear the rustle of clothes behind you. Satisfied with his compliance (and that you won’t have to report to anyone that someone died because they refused to take of their clothes), you continued your own disrobing.

Each particle of clothing hit the hardwood floors with a loud, wet slap, and you can feel the floor jump at the impact, almost mocking you both. The tension is almost palpable, making the act of removing your clothes even more difficult with the extra water and snow caked onto it. With each piece of clothing you lose, you shiver violently at the air that assaults you. But you clench your teeth and press on. You have your own skin to save. The greatest relief comes when you take off your socks—there’s no worse feeling outside of pain that compares to the skin-crawling squish of wet socks—even though the wooden floors are cold as all hell.

“They–they should’ve sent M-M-Mei on this mission,” you say jokingly as you wring out your shirt. “She would’ve loved this. Probably would’ve been better prepared, too.”

You only receive icy silence, your attempt at a livening the atmosphere dies as it comes out of your mouth. Hanzo seems very single-minded in his unclothing. You slap an unsteady hand to your forehead. That thought was dirty. He’s your comrade-in-arms, not a pin-up. Calm down.

Normally, your thoughts didn’t travel down this route–sure, he is attractive, but not enough to distract you. Maybe the cold’s hindering your mental facilities. That must be it.

You strip down to your underwear and, to your infinite irritation, even those were soaked somehow. You’re going to put in a complaint with Winston about his new snow and water-proof gear. You tug at your underwear, grimacing at the wetness.

‘To hell with it’, you decided as you reluctantly pulled those off, too. You glanced quickly back at Hanzo as you did, hoping that he wouldn’t see.

It’s so dark you could barely even see him.

Actually, you don’t even see the archer anywhere. You whip your head around, trying to catch sight of his outline. Where did he–?

“Here.”

You’re hit by something soft and blissfully dry. It’s a large towel, musty from disuse, but welcome, nonetheless.

“Thank–thank you.”

He grunts, and there’s the sound of him putting on his own towel. You first wring your hair through it, the icy water dripping down your bare back is far from comfortable, before you wrap it around yourself in a very pathetic attempt to get warm. It barely does its job, and you feel a little less exposed to the elements. Now that you’re no longer in danger of freezing to death via an icy cage of fabric, there are other matters to attend to.

You cast a forlorn glance at the silhouette of the duffel bag, wondering if anything survived the brief dunk in the water. You decide it’s worth a shot, and try to open it. You hiss at the stinging cold. The bag is freezing still from having been dropped into the slushy water. Next time, you’re going to take a drone and you’re going to cold-proof it so it can carry your stuff. Brilliant.

You hold the towel closed as you rummage through the contents of the bag—wet clothes, wet bags, wet and ice-encrusted everything except—

“Yes!” You pull out a thick stick, and before Hanzo could even stop you, you twist and snap it, immediately flooding the room with a warm yellow light (and accidentally blinding yourself).

Hanzo hisses like a disgruntled cat, snatching the emergency light stick from your hands as you begin to rub your eyes free of the afterimages.

When you’re finally able to open them without seeing strange colors, you had to fight to keep your mouth closed. Hanzo is completely shirtless save a towel around his midsection, covering up his stomach and upper thighs. The muscles previously hidden by the thick layers of protective gear and winter wear now exposed to the nippy air. You drop your gaze so you’re not tempted to stare—you’ve seen other sculpted men before, but the fact that it’s Hanzo makes this different somehow. Though, something seems off about him.

You keep your gaze to the floor, his legs. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you, and rubbed your eyes to be sure. (It stung more than you would’ve liked.)

“You–you have legs? Human…legs?”

Behind him, what you thought were prostheses seemed to now be just empty casings, lying neatly on the ground. He glares at you but quickly turns away, arms crossed over his chest, the light making the dragons on his arm seem more ominous than usual. You’re not sure because the light itself isn’t strong enough for you to tell, but you could swear that there is a tinge of pink on his chest and cheeks.

However, his biting voice immediately drives your thoughts away from that. “Is that a problem?” The condensation from his mouth circles him like dragons. The imagery is almost frightful.

“N-no, no!” you stammer, “I just, I just thought that…y-you know what, never mind.”

You turn your back and kneel down, returning to rummaging through the contents of the wet bag, trying find something useful and to distract yourself from the awkwardness of a topic that shouldn’t be discussed. A series of shivers run down your spine at the contact. Damn, you really should’ve switched with Mei—but then she’d be stuck in this situation, and she’s not exactly comfortable with being nude, especially in the presence of others (but logically, she’d probably be the most unlikely person to be caught in this sort of situation in the first place).

You chance upon a medium size container and you immediately brighten when you realize what it is.

“Hey, Hanzo, look when I found!” You hold up the thermos, kept airtight and thus uncontaminated by the cold. Perhaps it’s a little too tight, and you struggle to get it open while using your elbows to squeeze the towel against your body.

“Allow me.”

Hanzo gently snatches it from your trembling fingers, kneeling down to meet you at eye level. You couldn’t help but watch as the light illuminates his muscles undulating as he attempts to do what you could not, and highlights the sharp angle of his face and his nose, the fullness of his lips—you had to look away. The cold must be making you delirious.

“Here.”

He’s already poured a cup for you. Even at this distance, he refused to look at you, eyes stubbornly averting your general direction. You pluck it from his hands with a quiet, “Thanks”. A close look at the contents revealed it to be more of a golden broth that the chef insisted you both take with you. The steam that rises from it is a wonderful reminder that the broth is very warm—perfect for this situation.

From the corner of your eye, you see Hanzo put his hands together and mutter a quick “いっただきます” before raising the steaming bowl to his lips and taking a hearty sip. You did the same and almost gagged at the taste.

It is somewhat metallic—strong hints of ginseng, ginger, and other flavors that you couldn’t quite place. It undoubtedly warms you, the stark contrast sends a harsh shiver down your body, skin raising with gooseflesh. Your teeth tingles from the heat, and your stomach feels a ton heavy like molten lava just made its home there. You didn’t really realize it before, but you seem to have been getting used to the cold.

You take another large, but difficult gulp; the broth leaves behind a bitter yet soothing aftertaste (you don’t think you’d drink it a second time outside of a life or death situation). You’re going to have a word with the chef when you get back to Gibraltar. You don’t know if Hanzo disliked the taste, but he didn’t comment, so neither did you. You weren’t exactly in the best position to complain about warm sustenance in the middle of a blizzard, after all.

You both ate in silence, the occasional slurp breaking it.

It probably wouldn’t be long before the other Overwatch agents noticed your disappearances—Winston had insisted on updates every six hours, and the last communications either of you had with the scientist was early this morning right before you and Hanzo went to scope the Talon lab. Since the communicator isn’t working, you wondered how long it’d take before anyone back at base realizes that you’re both stranded here.

Stupid technology, even after so many years of advancement, it still can’t send a signal in the middle of a snowstorm?

Hanzo gets up from his kneeling position, having finished his portion of soup. You’re still having some difficulty drinking it without holding your breath. Though, by the time you are done, Hanzo’s returned. He hands you some clothes hangers from the closet, now that you can both see in the dark to not stab yourself with one accidentally (unfortunate as it may be, it’s happened before).

“We should hang up our clothes so they may dry.”

You take a look at your sodden pile. “Oh, right, th-thank.” You set down your cup and take your chilly clothes into your arms and the offered hangers before stepping into the bathroom. As a side thought, you twist a knob on the sink and unsurprisingly, get nothing. You sigh. It was worth a shot.

You see that Hanzo was one step ahead of you, his clothes are already hanging neatly from the shower curtain. You wonder when he had the chance to do so without you hearing. You shake your head, it must’ve been when you were too preoccupied with stripping. Though, as you’re hanging your clothes, something else catches your eye.

A white, long rectangle of cloth hangs innocently off the railing, water dripping from it rhythmically. Wait, you recognized this. It was a…loincloth? You keep your mouth shut, teeth clenched to the point that they couldn’t even chatter. This is not a good point of conversation. Not at all. You’re sure that if you speak a word of this to anyone, you’d somehow receive an arrow to the head. Several, if Hanzo was angry enough.

So you quietly hang up your clothes, readjust your towel, and back out of the room. You sincerely hope that Hanzo does not realize you’ve seen his choice of undergarments (but to be fair, he hung them up first), you’re not sure you could ever erase the image from your mind.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t seem to even be thinking such things, instead, he’s standing there awkwardly, staring at the bed with open apprehension. Strange.

“What’s wrong?”

He continues looking at the bed, the corner of his mouth turned downward in distaste. You also squint at it like the answer would manifest itself if you stared hard enough. Was it monsters? Bed bugs?

You blink slowly at him, then at the bed.

It hits you like a freight train. It’s a problem neither of you realized when you first entered the cabin, too preoccupied with trying to get out of the storm and its non-existence comforts.

There’s only one bed.

It’s not that small, but it’s barely enough to fit the two of you, it seems. Inwardly, you groan. You’re sure that you’d never hear the end of this if any of the other Overwatch members find out.

“I will ta-take the floor,” Hanzo says briskly, already trying to establish his new place of rest by sitting down. You had to wince sympathetically when he gave a full body shiver—you could even see the goosebumps from where you stand. Not even his pride is going to be enough to keep him warm at night. His self-loathing and hate, perhaps, but again—thoughts you really shouldn’t entertain.

“You’ll freeze to death down there,” you protest, lifting up the covers. They were thick, and seem like they’d be great at keeping you warm. Unfortunately enough, there’s only one of them. “Not like there are any other blankets, either.”

He does not respond. You crawl into the bed first, biting back a gasp when your body meets the cold mattress. You position yourself as close to the wall as possible without actually touching it, leaving ample space for the archer.

When you turn, you see he still hasn’t moved from his spot, and you sigh. “Come on, Hanzo. It’s just for one night.” Hopefully. “There’s nothing for-for you to sleep on. Just—just get up here. I’ll just stay o-over on this side.”

You could feel his hesitation, so you turn again to face the wall laying down onto the pillow to give him so privacy (or the illusion of detachment)—the pillow, too, is freezing and your wet hair pressing against your skin made it even worse. You really couldn’t wait to get back to base. Maybe trade stories with Mei when she undoubtedly returns with sunburn.

“If you insist,” he says quietly, reluctantly. You take that as your cue to press yourself even further from ‘his’ side of the bed.

Slowly, you could hear Hanzo get up and take a few tentative steps toward the bed. You could hear his ribbon pulling free, and you could almost see his hair coming free of its confines, spilling over his shoulders stiffly. The mattress dips underneath his weight as he crawls in carefully, laying as far away as the blankets would allow. You have to hold onto your end tightly to keep them from slipping off and getting stolen by your new bedmate. You both lay there, back to back. If you even turn just little bit, your skin would be pressed against his own–you could imagine it just sticking to each other. Your back tingles at the proximity, and you try hard not to focus on the fact that you could feel his presence right behind you.

The chattering in your teeth is slowly subsiding, the warmth of two bodies underneath the covers chases away the cold that haunts you both. The metronome of your dripping clothes is the only thing that fills the silence accompanied by the howl of the wind. You could feel Hanzo’s breathing more than you could hear it—the blanket dips and rises with each breath.

When you finally regain some semblance of consciousness, you notice that it’s hot—almost too hot and you’re sweating all over, but at the same time, it was chilly. Your eyes could barely open, aching and somewhat swollen. It must’ve been the wind and ice yesterday, you reasoned. The next thing that comes is that you’re painfully aware of more skin to skin contact than you remember going to bed with.

You couldn’t move without feeling the sensation of peeling skin. The threat of a painful extraction is almost as cringe-worthy as what you image to be Hanzo’s reaction to waking up in this sort of position. At least by some miracle, both your towels are intact, left in the place you both had them when you went to sleep.

But to make matters worse rather than better, Hanzo fills the space between your chin and collarbone with his face, curling into a ball and pressing himself against you as though you two would suddenly click into place. One arm is curled around your back, and the other is trapped between both your bodies, drawing you impossibly close. It vaguely reminded you of a child seeking their parent’s comfort or, if your mind dares go into that territory, two lov—no, no. Don’t go there, thoughts.

However, your thoughts are quickly drowned out when Hanzo noses his way into your neck, his lips skim against your clavicle and you jump at the sensation. ‘It’s okay,’ you told yourself as your heart begins to race like mad. He is just sleeping. He doesn’t know what he’s doing; it’s an accident. As if to prove you wrong, he continues to press his lips there and mumble unintelligibly. You tried to squirm away, the ticklish sensation combined with the close proximity was too much to bear, biting down the need to start laughing or shoving him out of the bed.

Apparently displeased with your struggles, he tucks his chin in, and almost sprawls himself against you, pressing you down onto you back and lying on top. The sudden motion makes you hiss—you were right, the feeling of peeling skin really hurts. But you have little time to dwell on it when his weight is almost suffocating you. Your new position is arguably less ticklish, but no less awkward. You shift, trying to get comfortable, but his weight pins you down firmly.

“Oh, com’on, Hanzo,” you whisper. You’re surprised he still hasn’t woken up—what sort of ninja is he anyway?

You try another half-hearted struggle, but huff and give up when it doesn’t seem like you’re making any headway, too tired to bother. Might as well let the archer do his thing—there isn’t much you could do anyway outside of bucking his straight off the bed and giving him a very rude awakening (that may or may not result in him attacking you in a blind panic).

Vaguely, you notice it’s still dark, and the screams of the wind from hours before have now died down to become whispers. It seems like the storm has calmed down, sufficient for a signal to get through and for help to come. It’s too bad you’re stuck under a couple hundred pounds of sleeping muscle. You smile to yourself and look down blearily at the archer.

He seems so comfortable, hair splayed out messily around him, legs intertwined with yours so intimately that you’re sure that he’s going to die of embarrassment when he wakes up. You sigh, closing your eyes and willing yourself to go back to sleep. You could deal with this later. The beating of his heart against your chest, his steady breaths, and warmth makes that easy.

The next time you awaken, there’s the distinct sound of chatter, a lack of a body, and a hand to your forehead. It’s large and comfortable, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat that seems to have clogged your throat and nose.

“’nzo?”

You whine when the hand jerks back, exposing your forehead to the chilly morning (was it still morning?) air.

“—ne moment. You’re awake?”

You make a noise of affirmation in the back of your throat—it hurts and it feels like something’s stabbing the insides, you realize. You bury yourself deeper beneath the covers, feeling like you haven’t slept a wink. Your body aches, and your head hurts—it must be the result of having your hair still wet while you slept in such cold weather. That sounds logical.

A few more words were exchanged between Hanzo and whomever he was talking to before, it sounds somewhat heated and pressing, but you weren’t paying attention, sleep beckoning you like a siren’s call that you had no strength to resist.

“Stay awake. You’ve caught a cold,” Hanzo says softly but sternly when he notices you trying to doze off again.

Through your haze, you don’t really understand the severity of his words, but you nod anyway, if only to have him leave you alone so you may return to sleep sooner. You could hear him rummaging through bags, cursing firmly and searching more frantically when he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for.

You’re tempted to laugh at him, but right now, you’re just too tired to do much but try to follow his order. You blink at his back—it’s clothed. Maybe his shirt has dried? What about your own clothes then?

“Apologizes, but there is no medicine,” he says suddenly. Your leg jerks, your whole body jolting to temporary wakefulness. It looks like despite your best attempt, you ended up dozing off after all. “I have contacted the others, they will be here in several hours.”

“S’okay,” you mumble. You just wanted to sleep some more, and it’s too cold to do some comfortably. “Hey, Hanzo. Do me a favor?”

“Yes?”

“Get in here, it’s cold.”

For the record, I rather like the ginseng chicken soups my mother makes. It just doesn’t taste very good in the first few sips.

#anon #ask #this is 4k+ of words whyyy #I feel that Hanzo is a really light sleeper but when he's really comfortable with someone he sleeps like a LOG #I don't know why this is so long #I'm so sorry #hanzo x reader #reader #Goddamnit why did I even make this title a pun #please understand that I literally cannot keep track of myself when writing really long fics #I am now done with requests and now I need to sleep again #sorry it took so long #my writing

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kariachi · 4 years

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Last episode of the day, and then I’m gonna be trying to organize shit on my Kevin Episode Order list. Actually been looking forward to this one, because I have reason to believe it has Information that I, as a Kevin fan and fanwriter, require.

Let’s start up to Adrenaland Jr.

I would like to point out that I typed up the above at 2pm and it is now 5pm. I am a disaster and mildly afraid of this episode. Also went out to dinner. Scallops and shrimp, it was nice. Moving on.

I still love that Max joins in on the selfie at the end of the intro. I’m sorry, it just warms my little black heart.

Ben, disheartened because Gwen wins at everything she does. Ever.

“You guys will be thanking me for days!“ Good luck, Max.

Oh look, they have been taken to a themepark. The Adrenaland Jr of the title. Adrenaland but kiddified. They do not seem impressed at this first look.

Awww, Max thought this was the same as normal Adrenaland and was trying to be cool. Poor Max.

Okay, scratch that. Ben is unimpressed, Gwen is more than happy to get another Adrenaland pin for her collection. As somebody who collected pressed pennies until they started asking for a whole damn dollar for them, I can relate.

Well she’s a little bit enthusiastic, in case anyone wondered if she and Ben were maybe related.

Max is trying so hard. And Ben is so unimpressed. And Gwen gives no shits because she has a pin to acquire.

Oh gods, she’s gonna have to beat a carnival game to get a pin. All her skills will be put to the test.

And it looks like this really is the one for kids, that is defs a ‘my first rollercoaster’.

The puns are horrible. That alone is worth not coming back to this park.

Ben: I must make this a good ride, so help me god *goes alien*

And we’re back to Gwen’s PinQuest

Oh she was so sure of herself, but Gwen this is a carnival game and so probably rigged to some degree.

Ben please don’t ruin this for the small children.

Left the littles nauseated after altering the ride, which is against the rules. Good job Benjamin, I hope this weighs on your conscience.

...these people are chill, very politely explaining why what Ben did was wrong and giving him a second chance to not fuck with shit before they’re going to move on to actual reprimands.

Ben, I swear to fuck.

Not the teacups, dear gods leave the teacups alone

Goddamnit Ben

Leave the people on the jungle safari alone, child! wtf!

Max is giving him a fourth chance to behave, honestly he’s a more patient man than me.

Even the park staff have had enough.

Stewart (worker of the game Gwen is failing miserably at) is both amazed she’s doing so poorly and also trying to be encouraging. Not quite working.

Also I’m nearly halfway through this episode and wondering where my son is at. I know he’s in this episode I’ve seen screenshots

There is a ‘ride’ that is just playing in a load of socks falling from the sky. Honestly I can almost see the appeal.

There’s my son! Bootleg-ing a Sock Tower. I am both disappointed and proud somehow.

Fucking flails, child? Have you considered adding maybe an ounce of chill to your diet?

Please let these two end up commiserating over how lame these rides are.

(I will admit though I did kinda want this to be something I could put as Kevin officially meeting Gwen, have him show her how to beat that game because he’s bored and holy shit she’s bad at this. It would’ve been nice and a good start to him kinda liking her while still giving her cousin shit.)

Kevin!

“There’s definitely something strange going on here“ Yes and it’s about 4′10 with an attitude problem and no sleeves

Oh look, a Kevin again. I think he’s ruining the day of the people on a ferris wheel, but it’s moving too fast to be sure.

“Dweeby-son and Dweeby-senior“ I feel like I should be judging him for the lack of variety but honestly fuck it, stick to a theme kiddo, live your dreams

“Of course you’d be here at the baby park“ Bitch, you are here too!

Oh lords and Ben can’t even hear him from up there

“See Ben, Kevin likes this park. It is cool!“ Max please.

“Better stop him before he starts destroying somethign else“ Just the tone Ben uses here, and the look on his face. Like a beagle owner whose dog just got really quiet in the backyard so they know it’s halfway across the county by now.

The boys pausing a fight on a roller coaster so a bunch of little kids could go past, because Kev’s a jerk and Ben is reckless but they’re not bad kids at heart.

Damn, Kevin is kicking ass and taking names today

Awww, little kid with a watergun trying to put out Heatbast

Gwen, meanwhile, is about to snap and start wearing people’s skins if she doesn’t beat this game. Kinda worrying Stewart.

Gwen is holding this man hostage until she beats this game. She is the biggest threat to this park right now.

Ben can at least read a room enough to figure out Kevin’s in a fouler mood than usual. Ponders if Kevin has issues with Adrenaland he’s working out with violence. And I am paused right here because, again, I’ve seen screenshots and I am scared.

Yep, my son is in a Mood.

Oh lords the boys ruined Gwen’s near win. Everybody run for shelter!

Sometimes, you look at these boys, and you think ’if they had any sort’ve chill, would they just die?’

Gwen so pissed off she knocked both of them back to human shape and has them cowering with naught but tone and expression

Even when she’s pissed she tries to be reasonable.

Oh gods Kevin pain incoming.

...welp. It’s brief but it damn well don’t need to be longer, we get plenty of info right there. Especially when you keep in mind that this is a visual medium and every choice is deliberate especially with shit like this. Gotta love that ‘subtle’ implication through the use of commercials that Kevin was raised by an alcoholic. If you didn’t read this in slightly forced manic tone, you are wrong.

Also I like the difference between the view we get of Kevin when it’s Kevin’s flashback as opposed to Ben’s. Ben’s flashbacks of Kevin in school have all had him as a joyful tormentor, active, outgoing, and very forward. Meanwhile, the little bit we get from Kevin’s pov has him very clearly alone, head down, not even glancing at the people around him. He doesn’t look up in the flashback until he’s home, and even then the look is one of contempt as he looks towards the front room. For the commercial, for his guardian, for both? We don’t know for sure. Then, when we come back from the commercial to face him again, he just looks tired before turning and heading up the stairs.

Actually, I am still horribly curious. I’m fairly certain all the other flashbacks with him, including his own, include his sleeves being gone, while they’re still around for this one. And the house he built his watch in was very clearly a one-story, while this one appears to be two-story, given the stairs and that Kevin seems to have just come in. Brings me back to my earlier wondering about if he was in foster care or something when we first met him. Or maybe he’s stuck in a dual custody situation, who knows. Just interesting little bits and pieces.

Gwen feels sorry for Kevin, as well she should, everyone should, somebody protect my child.

Ben: I’m done! If you’re a dick because your said then god as my witness you will stop being sad!

Kevin got his ride, and they’re getting kicked out before Gwen can get her pin.

The Tennysons are confused and Kevin unimpressed at the threat of using teddy-bear-based excessive force to remove them

Oh lords they’re being shoved out using squeaky teddybears

Max: At least we aren’t banned this time Park Employee: btw, here’s a You’re Banned pin

Kevin Levin, maintaining the tough-guy facade

Kevin: This park is only for dweebs Ben: This picture of you enjoying the fuck out of that ride I altered says otherwise

Gwen: I thought we got through to him Ben, who knows Kevin much better than she does: Oh we did

Gwen: *much feeling sorry for a Kevin* Kevin: *much ‘wow I actually enjoyed myself with other people for once’*

11/11 for Kevin and for Gwen

#achi liveblogs #ben 10 2.os #somebody protect my son #also it's like 7pm