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Description
Yes, more of these. No EE isn't going away, I'm still working on it, just working a bit on the script. .... Such that it is 9_9;

This was a hard one. Trying to put into a single image how Pietro is not "normal," and never has been, and how this effected him growing up. I ended up going with a school-yard brawl because I feel school is a good place to typify what his life is.

Plus: Children are freakin' scary. Seriously. That? Up there? Is how I see children. ALL CHILDREN. O____O

I also wished to sort of address all the images I've seen of Pietro running away from a fight, or just losing horribly. That boy? Yeah. He's a scrapper. Just because he's quick doesn't mean the ONLY thing he can do is run.

And he's not above punching a girl, either. XD

... I gave Evan a flattop. Because clearly: That's a hairstyle we NEEDED to be reminded of. O_O Not that you can tell that it's Evan 9,9

This one got dark, pencil wise.

__________________________________________________________________________

When I was 9, I learned survival. Taught myself not to care.

I was my single, good companion. Taking my comfort there.

Up in my room, I planned my conquests. All alone, never asked for a helping hand. No-one would understand.

I never asked the ones who moved below. Just incase they said "No."

Pity the child that has ambition. Knows what he wants to do. Knows that he'll never fit the system others expect him to.

Pity the child who knew his family. Saw their faults, saw the love die before his eyes. Pity the child that wise.

He never asked "Did I cause your distress?" ... just incase they said "Yes."

When I was 12, my father moved out. I wasn't enough to keep him about.

I didn't miss him, he made it perfectly clear that I was a fool and probably queer.

I took the road of least resistance, I had my games to play. I had the skill, and more, the hunger, easy to get away.

Pity the child wiht no such weapons, no defence no escape from the ties that bind. Always a step behind.

I never called to tell him all I'd done. I was only his son.

Pity the child, but not forever. Not if he stays that way. He can get all he ever wanted... if he's prepared to pay.

Pity, instead, the careless father. What he missed, what he lost when he Let me go. And I wonder if he knows...

I wouldn't call, a crazy thing to do. Just incase he says "... who?"

Lyrics (more or less) from Chess.
Actual Lyrics: [link]
YouTubes: [link]

Description
Yes, more of these. No EE isn't going away, I'm still working on it, just working a bit on the script. .... Such that it is 9_9;

This was a hard one. Trying to put into a single image how Pietro is not "normal," and never has been, and how this effected him growing up. I ended up going with a school-yard brawl because I feel school is a good place to typify what his life is.

Plus: Children are freakin' scary. Seriously. That? Up there? Is how I see children. ALL CHILDREN. O____O

I also wished to sort of address all the images I've seen of Pietro running away from a fight, or just losing horribly. That boy? Yeah. He's a scrapper. Just because he's quick doesn't mean the ONLY thing he can do is run.

And he's not above punching a girl, either. XD

... I gave Evan a flattop. Because clearly: That's a hairstyle we NEEDED to be reminded of. O_O Not that you can tell that it's Evan 9,9

This one got dark, pencil wise.

__________________________________________________________________________

When I was 9, I learned survival. Taught myself not to care.

I was my single, good companion. Taking my comfort there.

Up in my room, I planned my conquests. All alone, never asked for a helping hand. No-one would understand.

I never asked the ones who moved below. Just incase they said "No."

Pity the child that has ambition. Knows what he wants to do. Knows that he'll never fit the system others expect him to.

Pity the child who knew his family. Saw their faults, saw the love die before his eyes. Pity the child that wise.

He never asked "Did I cause your distress?" ... just incase they said "Yes."

When I was 12, my father moved out. I wasn't enough to keep him about.

I didn't miss him, he made it perfectly clear that I was a fool and probably queer.

I took the road of least resistance, I had my games to play. I had the skill, and more, the hunger, easy to get away.

Pity the child wiht no such weapons, no defence no escape from the ties that bind. Always a step behind.

I never called to tell him all I'd done. I was only his son.

Pity the child, but not forever. Not if he stays that way. He can get all he ever wanted... if he's prepared to pay.

Pity, instead, the careless father. What he missed, what he lost when he Let me go. And I wonder if he knows...

I wouldn't call, a crazy thing to do. Just incase he says "... who?"

Lyrics (more or less) from Chess.
Actual Lyrics: [link]
YouTubes: [link]