I was planning on writing something happy-go-lucky, but I decided to have a go at depicting the titans' not-so-glorious moments. I'd usually say enjoy, but this isn't exactly a feel-good piece so I don't know. Hahaha.
Notes:
Mido Awww, thank you, thank you. They do make a mighty fine pairing, even though, like you pointed out, it's a bit unhealthy. Hahahaha. You are too sweet and I'm glad you enjoyed it (and I'm honored that you think I nailed their personalities! :,D) As always, you make my day. c:
HoneyGoddess Again, thank you for the wonderful review! I'm touched that you thought I did the drabbles justice, and no, I actually had no idea. I am totally not looking it up right now- no siree *whistles innocently*
Archie
The purple-haired warrior pummeled his punch bag like he did every day. Except today, he wrestled with it more aggressively, despite the weary expression on his face. We're sorry Archie. We simply cannot publish work like this. They had said. It's too raw…too liberal….too….. blah blah blah. Yeah right. More like 'this is too intellectual for our nit-witted minds'. Archie clenched his jaw and pulled his arm back before letting one fly.
This one was for humiliating rejection.
Then he reared up and viciously leaped at the bag.
And this one was for the cheesy sympathy.
Atlanta
She slammed her door with such vigor, that even the brawn was startled by her strength. She slammed it hard. Slammed it tight. She swore she would have smashed the coach's head against the wall. That would've shown him what a girl was capable of doing. Far better than any of the boys could ever do, anyways. That would've shown him he was wrong and she was right. And most of all, that would've shown him she was invincible. That she didn't know what pain was. Or what it meant to cry. But she didn't. She couldn't. She had given in.
Jay
He could take the stings. The cuts. The scrapes. The bruises. The gashes. The scars. Heck. He could take a hundred if he had to. But he couldn't take the sting of defeat. He couldn't take the sting of failing when he was needed most. He definitely couldn't take the sting of lost trust. And most of all, he couldn't take the scar of lost friends.
Theresa
The psychic sat in her car. She just sat there. She wasn't going anywhere. She couldn't go anywhere. At least not now. Not in the state she was in. She might crash and kill someone. But frankly, she didn't care if she killed herself. How could she have been so naïve? How could her powers fail to detect it? Or better yet, why did she so ardently believe that things would be any better. They were the same as always. No, scratch that. They were worse. Curse her father. Screw him. Screw all parents everywhere. Who needed them? What could they possibly provide you that you couldn't give yourself? The pain of being ignored? The anger of being less worthy than superficialities? The wretchedness of being screamed at? Verbally abused? Ha. Right. That's what they could give you. How could she forget.
Odie
No video games today. No programming. No inventing. Nothing. What was the point? What was the point in creating, tinkering, and thinking if you failed at the only things you could do? How could his creation -which seemed more absurd the more he thought about it- how could it backfire in front of the CEOS? How could it melt down? Melt his one chance. He had gone in a patent hopeful, and he had come out empty handy, and empty hearted.
Herry
For the most part, the brawn wasn't accustomed to this feeling called rejection. He had no reason to be rejected. He had never invested in anything, so he could never lose anything. But life's funny that way. One day you think you're invincible. Ace number one. King of the hill. And the next, you're shutting yourself away. Thinking of what could have been. Wondering what you did wrong. Thinking of people that are long gone. People like Sybaris.
Neil
Where was his ego now? Where was his beautiful, precious ego that would help him escape from this? He wished he knew. Failure hurt. Rejection hurt more. Failing your opportunity to stardom; to becoming a household name and the face of designers everywhere was embarrassing. Thinking that they were actually right. Thinking that you really aren't good enough. Perfect enough. Beautiful enough. Special enough. Hating yourself for once in your life. That hurt more than anything. He wished he could be as oblivious and egoistic as he always was. He wished he could just move on. And most of all, he wished he could say that the tears streaming down his not-perfect-enough face were from anger. But that would be a lie.