Time and again, Pixal is placed in a position of watching Zane suffer/die, and trying to save him, even as early as season 3. Their first real bonding moment happens while she’s repairing him. And not long after that, she rescues him from being dropped into a metal shredder. Then in season 4 she helps him get his memory back, and in season 6 she defends him from the Mechanic trying to scrap him for spare parts. And that’s all beforeshe became Samurai X - a role she only took on because Zane had been shut down and was out of commission.
Since becoming Samurai X, she’s had to deal with the aftermath of Zane being presumed dead aboard the destroyed Bounty, his banishment at the hands of Aspheera, and then later the Mechanic abducting him and electrocuting him to near-death.
The long and short of it is, Zane has been through a lot, and whenever something bad happens, Pixal gets front-row tickets to watch it all unfold.
Naturally, this has left an impact on her emotional state. And I think the nightmare she experienced in season 11 (shortly after Zane was banished to the Never Realm) showcases this best:
The nightmare depicts Zane holding onto Pixal for dear life, desperation and fear on his face as she’s the only thing keeping him from falling into the white abyss below. But then, something causes Zane to slip from her grasp, and he falls beyond her reach, with her flailing helplessly, unable to save him.
Again and again Pixal has watched him die. Again and again she has lost him. In her mind, no matter what she does, no matter how hard she tries to protect him or how tightly she holds on, something will happen that will tear Zane away from her again, and she will be powerless to stop it.
It’s not unreasonable to assume that Pixal considers Zane’s safety her own personal responsibility, and blames herself whenever something happens to him. Note in particular the way Zane is characterized in her dream - desperate, afraid, with her as the only thing keeping him from falling into the abyss. And when she fails to hold onto him, she is - quite literally - letting him down.
Now that on its own is enough material to keep my poor Pixal Stan heart beating for months. But there are a few more details I think are worth mentioning.
First - the abyss dream!Zane falls into seems vaguely reminiscent of the ice torrent he falls into at the end of season 3. Here’s a side-by-side comparison for reference:
I know it’s a bit of a stretch, but you gotta admit the similarities are at least a little bit uncanny. If we’re following this train of thought, then this may suggest that Pixal not only feels responsible for her inability to save Zane from Aspheera, but also blames herself for Zane’s death in his battle against the Overlord. Or at the very least, she’s noticed enough similarities between both instances of losing Zane that her mind is subconsciously projecting them.
Either way, it’s safe to say Pixal is almost definitely traumatized from past experiences of watching Zane die. I mean, let’s not forget that Zane’s fight against the Overlord was, as far as we know, her first real experience with death, and Zane didn’t exactly die peacefully.
Another thing to note is that the version of Aspheera in her dreams wasn’t trapped in ice, but rather standing freely and unharmed. On the left is how she appeared in Pixal’s dream, and on the right is what her actual condition was when she banished Zane.
It could just be an inconsequential dream thing, but idk since we’re overanalyzing things here I want to make the comment that it almost erases Zane’s conflict with her - how Zane had fought her (and her entire army) and won, and was only banished due to her breaking her arm out of the ice when he had his back turned. But in Pixal’s dream, that context is removed, with only Aspheera standing there as powerful as can be, blasting Zane seemingly without prompt.
The reason why this is noteable is that the abyss scene and that singular shot of Aspheera are the only two moments in her dream that aren’t exact recordings of the events that transpired. Everything else in her dream is just an exact, near-flawless memory of what happened - exceptfor the abyss scene and the moment when Aspheera blasts Zane. For some reason, Pixal’s dream ignored all of Zane’s involvement in that fight, and disregarded the fact that Zane had already defeated her.
There are two possible meanings of this:
She views Aspheera as an intimidating individual, and the version of Aspheera in her memory reflects Pixal’s feelings about her. She views Aspheera as a strong, formidable, and terrifying opponent. A bogeyman of sorts. Aspheera is Pixal’s bogeyman
Pixal is subconsciously victimizing Zane. And yes, he isa victim in this situation - but just moments before his banishment he hadsuccessfully incapacitated not just Aspheera but all of her soldiers as well. Her dream not only largely neglects to acknowledge his involvement in the fight itself, but his contributions to Aspheera’s defeat - effectively cementing Zane’s victim status further into Pixal’s mind
With all this in mind, I think it’s not unreasonable to say that Pixal, on some unconscious level, views Zane as a victim whose safety she is responsible for. I don’t think she has this viewpoint intentionally, and I think Pixal isaware of Zane’s competence and respects his merits as a teammate, a hero, and a partner. I’m not making the case that Pixal thinks so little of Zane that he can’t stand up for himself.
But I dothink that, after years of watching Zane suffer and having to look after him, her experiences have begun to affect her view on not just Zane, but herself as well - with her subconscious hinting to her in subtle ways that Zane is someone she needs to protect, and that his protection is her responsibility.
In a way, I think Pixal views her responsibility for Zane’s wellbeing in a similar way that Kai views his responsibility for Nya and Lloyd - you know they’re skilled fighters in their own right, and that they can look after themselves, but you will still blame yourself first and foremost if any harm comes to them because you feel like it’s your job to protect them.
Anyway, the long and short of it is that Pixal has a savior complex targeted primarily at Zane, deriving from years of trauma involving his repeated deaths and her repeated inability to save him, and in this essay I will -
Just gonna put the link to this one shot here for no particular reason…
Summary: Maybe not super sad, but like yeah? I’ve had this tuck in my mind for a while. like i wrote this maybe,,, a month ago? i lost a tire at the point an was so upset
Word Count:1K each
A/N:I lost a tire and i’ve been thinking about mortality lmao
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Barbatos:
It’s a simple conversation that he has with you. He’s preparing a meal, and beside him are flowers plucked so delicately, strew across the stew that steams out of the pot. You watch him, your index tracing over the design of the bowl. You follow the swirls and listen to him chat as he stirs the pot and every so often he glances over to you. You smile each and every time, wide and energetic, slowly faltering to a softer smile. Barbatos mentions to you that soon a flower will sprout, one only rare because of the time it takes to bloom, but the taste that it adds to the dishes are simply worth the wait. He can’t wait for you to try it. He’s perfected it, made it countless times already, and when you ask when it’ll bloom, he responds in another hundred years. Your burst of laughter has him eyeing you in confusion and smiles, and when you look again, your smile dies. There’s a moment of stillness, and your smile returns, awkward and crooked, not reaching your eyes, and you look away from him. Realization makes his body cold, and he’s standing straight, the topic and your smile now laid to rest.
He’s forgotten that you’re mortal. You won’t live as long as he will, you won’t live as long as even the lower class of demons. You’ll die in just a few years time. The conversation is dropped, and at night, when you sleep beside him, your dying laughter rings and echoes in his head. Of course, he knew you could die, but he’s spent so long with you that he’s forgotten it. He’s felt your death before, changed timelines simply to keep you alive because you were needed, because you were wanted, and in that simple, brief moment where you were no longer alive, he was no longer able to feel you. He felt it all, all the grief, the sorrow that lingered and stayed, and then it was gone because you came back.
Your hand is still warm in his and he knows that one day, it’ll be cold. You’re so small in his hand, your skin so much softer than he has ever remembered. His own hands, always adorned in gloves, often forget just how lovely it feels to hold your hand. He looks down at you, sleeping so peacefully, your chest rising and falling slowly and you’re laying on his bed, one picked by the two of you and he thinks that when you die, he’ll burn the bed. He doesn’t think he would be able to handle what you slept in, where you laid and pulled the blankets close to your body. Even now, you lay there, your brows furrowed and hands knitted into the covers. You’ve chosen to love a never dying demon, loved him and chose to spend what little time you have with him. Do your years seem so long? So never ending? Do you think that it’s enough time for you to be with him? Do you think of asking him to extend your life? Would you ever bring it up? You must know that he could never say no to you, never deny a request if it was you who brought it up. You must- You have to know that he’s here, willing with tears in his eyes, that he’d do whatever it is that you wanted as long as you were happy.
The idea of changing time, shifting it so you can never die, crosses in his mind. It’s so clear. He can change and save you, he can rescue you. It won’t hurt. You might not even feel any different. You’d just be you, but with him, forever. Surely, you’d love that idea. You’d smile and nod so rapidly, hold his face in your hands where his cheeks would squish together and you’d kiss him with a smile on your face that he’d feel the warmth all over his body. He looks down at you, a shuddering breath shaking his chest and his smile falls. You’re human. You are so much, and in the grand scheme of it all, you might not even want to be immortal. His shoulders slump. He’s going to lose you one day. He’s going to be young, or he might even change his appearance to match yours, but you’d be aging before him, frail and kissed by the sun, wrinkles so deep around your eyes that only deepen when you smile. You’d lay down one final time in your best attire, and he’d be there, all alone.
With your hand in his, he holds onto you tighter, a chill going over him, and his vision going blurry. Barbatos has never been one to cry, he’s had to reason to, and yet, here he is, crying over a death that hasn’t happened yet. You’re beside him, resting so peacefully, while he cries over you, already missing your touch, missing how you’d tentatively open your mouth when he makes you a new dish. He lets go of your hand, and he can see where he left an imprint. The bed dips as he moves, molding under his touch as he pulls you close to him. His hand cups around your neck, his thumb brushing along the side, and he can feel your heartbeat. The pillowcase becomes wet under him, and his eyes are wet, tears tracing down the side of his face, dripping to the side of his nose and onto the pillow. He’s never felt a loss, never thought about getting so intimately close with someone else, never with someone like you, and now he’s going to mourn until day starts. He’s trying to hold back tears, pulling his lips into a thin line, trying to find a solution, biting down on the inside of his cheeks to prevent any emotion from slipping out. You don’t need to be woken up, not when he’s in shambles, not when you’re still here and there’s no reason to mourn. You’re held close to him, and he doesn’t want to let go of your hand.
A written-in-one-sitting drabble because I’m FEELING SO MANY THINGS.
Written as a tag to 4x05.
Phil could feelher eyeroll–despite the fact that he was staring at the back of her head. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail as she changed Tai Chi positions. Phil found himself thinking about how much he liked her hair at this longer length before he was able to shove down his admiration and focus on the reason he was there.
“Is there even the slightest chance you’re going to let it go?” Melinda sounded dry and tired, and yet…hesitant? An unusual tone for his partner.
“Nope.” Phil kept his voice light as he clicked the door to her room shut and leaned against it. She knew he was the only one at base who would dare enter her room without waiting for a response to the knock, and she knew why he sought her out. He wanted to know more.
Melinda took in a deep breath and smoothly switched positions, turning to the side so Phil had a view of her profile. Watching Melinda do Tai Chi always relaxed him, ever since the Academy. Her graceful movements and serene expression eased away his tension, and she radiated in a way that made it difficult for him to look away.
“You said I was there, but you didn’t say what happened. Was it a dream?” Phil mused aloud, watching as her body grew more tense the more he spoke. “A nightmare? A memory? Something…else?”
Melinda finally dropped her hands to her sides and threw him a look of exasperation, and he raised his eyebrows innocently at her in response.
“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready to go out on another mission?” Melinda gestured to his suit and tie.
“I’ve still got time,” Phil answered easily. Melinda shook her head and strode over to grab her water bottle from her desk, which stood right by the door.
“Well? I’m just wondering what could have happened, because you’re deliberately not telling me, which makes me think it must not have been good.”
Melinda’s water bottle barely touched her lips before she put it down, not taking a single sip. She just looked at him instead, her eyes intense with emotion Phil couldn’t decipher.
“I mean, were you seeing me in the infected zombie form?” Phil continued, hoping she would get fed up with him and tell him before the curiosity ate him alive. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the way Melinda was acting made him suspicious. His heart was beating faster for reasons he didn’t stop to think about, and he felt like he needed to know what she saw. It was important somehow. A piece of a larger puzzle that he needed in order to solve it. “Was it–”
Suddenly, Melinda’s hand yanked at his tie and Phil stumbled into her. Her lips pressed against his in the most captivatingway. He barely had a chance to touch his hands to her waist before she pulled away.
“That,” Melinda’s voice was slightly breathless, making her impossibly more attractive as she looked up at him with dark, imploring eyes. “That’s what I saw.”
Phil just stared at her in disbelief, trying to process what this meant. For him. For them. He could see the uncertainty in Melinda’s eyes, and knew he had to assure her quickly before the curtains were drawn over her emotions and she withdrew from him.
“Well,” Phil said slowly. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Melinda’s eyebrows drew together and she opened her mouth to respond before Phil stepped back into her space and smiled softly, one arm circling around her waist and drawing her closer to himself. His other hand slid around her neck. “It would have been nice to know that I could have done this earlier.”
He bent his head and caught a glimpse of her smile right before he kissed her.
if you ever have doubts whether or not my writing is inspired by some real life situations, rest assured that it is ABSOLUTELY NOT, because this dumbass just called herself GIMLI (cause i’m smol and ginger, ya know) in the middle of a flirty chat with a dude I like
