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ailuronymy · 3 years ago

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Thoughts on the new discourse? Warrior cats naming conventions and rank names being straight up stolen from native American people? So many people seem to be... Straight up leaving the Fandom or changing all of their fan content and it feels very performative and, people not actually thinking critically and just being scared of getting "cancelled"? I feel like your opinions on these matters are very informed and well written so I wanted to ask given that this blog main theme is, well, warrior cat naming system and that seems to be the main issue of the new discourse.

This is probably going to get long, since there's sort of a lot to say about it in order to talk about this whole thing fairly and constructively, because from what I’ve seen there’s a lot of hyperbole happening, and panicking, and disavowing this series and fandom, and so on, like you say, and also some people genuinely trying to have complex meaningful conversations about racism in xenofiction, and also probably some bad faith actors in the mix--as well as some just... stupid actors. Kind of inevitably what happens when two equally bad platforms for having nuanced discussions--i.e., twitter and tumblr--run headlong into each other, in a fandom space with a majority demographic of basically kids and highly anxious, pretty online teens. I don’t mean that as a criticism of fans or their desire to be liked by peers and “correct” about opinions, it’s just the social landscape of Warriors and I think it’s worth pointing out from the start.

If I’m totally honest with you, if not for this ask, I wouldn’t actually be commenting on it at all, because none of this is going to impact this blog or change how I run it in any way. But since you’ve asked and frankly I do feel some responsibility to try to disentangle things a little for everyone stressed and confused at the moment, because I know a lot of people look to this blog for guidance of all sorts, I’m going to talk about what I think has happened here, and how to navigate the situation in a reasonable way.

Quick recap for anyone blissfully unaware: from what I understand, this post (migrated over from a presumably bigger twitter thread) has got a lot of people very worried about Warriors being a racist and appropriative series, and now are trying to figure out what ethically to do about this revelation. The thing I found most interesting about this screenshotted conversation is that it makes a lot of bold claims, but misses some pretty surprising details (in my opinion). If you do look critically at what is being said, here’s a few things to notice--crucially, there are two people talking.

Person 1 says that a lot of animal fantasy fiction + xenofiction (fiction about non-human/”other” beings, such as animals) is frequently built upon stereotypes of First Nations and Indigenous people, and/or appropriates elements of Indigenous culture and tradition as basically set dressing for “strange” and “alien” races/species etc., and this is a racist, deeply othering, and inappropriate practice. This person is right.

I’ve spent years researching in this field specifically, so I feel pretty confident in vouching (for whatever that’s worth) that this person is absolutely right in making this point. Not only is it frequently in animal fiction/xenofiction, but it’s insidious, which means often it’s hard to notice when it’s happening--unless you know what you’re looking for, or you are personally familiar with the details or tropes that are being appropriated. Because of the nature of racism, white and other non-First Nations people don’t always recognise this trend within texts--even texts they’re creating--but it’s important for us all, and especially white people, to be more aware, because it’s not actually First Nations’ people’s responsibility to be the sole critics of this tradition of theft and misuse. Appropriation by non-Indigenous people is in fact the problem, which means non-Indigenous people learning and changing is the solution.

Person 1 offers Warriors as a popular example of a work that has this problem. Notably, this person hasn’t given an example of how Warriors is culpable (at least in this screenshot and I haven’t found the thread itself, because the screenshot is what’s causing this conversation), only that it’s an example of a work that has these problems. And once again, this person is correct. We’ll look at that more in a moment.

Person 2 (three tweets below the first) offers, by comparison, several more specious insights. Firstly, it’s really, really not the only time anyone’s ever talked about this, academically + creatively or in the Warriors fandom specifically, and so that reveals somewhat this person’s previous engagement in the space they’re talking into re: this topic. In other words, this person doesn’t know what has already been said or what is being talked about. Secondly, this person explicitly states that they “[don’t know] much about warrior cats specifically but from what I see it just screams appropriation,” which as a statement I think says something crucial re: the critical lens this person has applied + the amount of forethought and depth of analysis of their criticism of this particular series.

I’m not saying that using twitter to talk about your personal feelings requires you to research everything you talk about before you shoot your mouth off. However, I personally don’t go into a conversation about a topic I don’t know anything about except a cursory glance to offer bold and scathing criticisms based on what it “just screams” to me. By their own admission, this person isn’t really offering good faith, thoughtful criticism of the series, in line with Person 1′s tweet. Instead, Person 2 is talking pretty condescendingly and emphatically about--as the kids say--the vibes they get from the series, and I’m afraid that just doesn’t hold up well in this court.

So now that there’s Person 1 (i.e., very reasonable, important, interesting criticism) and Person 2 (i.e., impassioned but completely vibes-based opinion from someone who hasn’t read the books) separated, we can see there’s actually several things happening in this brief snapshot, and some of them aren’t super congruent with each other.

Person 1 didn’t say “don’t read bad books,” or that you’re a bad person for being a fan of stories that are guilty of this. They suggested people should recognise the ways xenofiction uses Indigenous people and their culture inappropriately and often for profit. My understanding of this tweet is someone offering an insight that might not have occurred to many people, but that is valuable and important to consider going forward in how they view, engage with, and create xenofiction media.

Person 2 uses high modality, evocative language that appeals to the emotions. That’s not a criticism of this person: they’re allowed to talk in whatever tone they want, and to express their personal feelings and opinions. However, rhetorically, this person is using this specific language--consciously or subconsciously--to incense their audience--i.e., you. Are you feeling called to action? What action do you feel called to when you rea their words, despite the fact their claims are not based in their own actual analysis of or engagement with the text? It’s, by their own admission, not analysis at all. Everything they evoke is purely in the name of “not good” vibes.

Earlier I mentioned that Person 1 is correct that Warriors is absolutely guilty of appropriation of First Nations and Indigenous people and culture. I also mentioned that they didn’t specify how. That’s because I think the most egregious example is in fact the tribe, which in many ways plays into the exact kind of stereotyping and appropriation of First Nations Americans that Person 1 mentions, and not the clans, contrary to Person 2′s suggestion. For instance, in addition to the very loaded name of “tribe”, there’s a lot of racist tropes present in how that group of cats is introduced and how the clan cats interact with them, as well as the more North American-inspired scenery of their home. It’s very blatant as far as racism in this series.

When it comes to the clans themselves, though, I think it’s muddier and harder to draw clear distinctions of what is directly appropriative, what is coincidentally and superficially reminiscent, and what is not related at all. Part of this difficulty in drawing hard lines comes from the fact that, on a personal level, it actually doesn’t matter: if a First Nations person reads a story and feel it is appropriative or inappropriate, it’s not actually anyone’s place to “correct” them on their reading of the text. Our experiences are unique and informed by our perspectives and values, and no group of people are a monolith, which means within community, there will always be disagreement and differenting points of view. There is no one single truth or opinion, which means that First Nations people even in the same family might have very different feelings about the same text and very different perspectives on how respectful, or not, it might be.

I’m saying this because something that gets said very often when conversations of racism and similar oppressive systems present/perpetuated in texts comes up, people frequently say: “listen to x voices.” It is excellent advice. However, the less pithy but equally valuable follow-up advice is: “listen to the voices of many people of x group, gather information and perspective, and then ultimately use your own judgement to make an informed opinion for yourself.” It means that you are responsible for you. The insight you can gain by listening to people who know topics and experiences far better than you do is truly invaluable, but if your approach to the world is simply to parrot the first voice, or loudest voice, or angriest voice you come across, you will not really learn anything or be able to develop your own understanding and you certainly won’t be making well-informed judgements.

In other words, one incomplete tweet thread from two people who are each bringing quite different topics and modes of conversation (or perhaps gripes, in Person 2′s case) to the table is not really enough to go off re: making a decision to leave a fandom, in my opinion. In fact, I think in responding to anything difficult, complex, or problematic (which doesn’t mean what popular adage bandies it about to mean) by trying to distance yourself, or cleanse of it, will ultimately harm you and will not do you any good as a person. It is better, in my opinion, to enter into complex relationships with the world and media and other people in an informed, aware way and with a willingness to learn and sometimes to make mistakes and be wrong, rather than shy away from potential conflict or fear that interacting with a text will somehow taint you or define your morality in absolutes.

So. Does Warriors have racist and appropriative elements, tropes, and issues in the series? Yes, of course it does, it’s a book-packaged series produced by corporation HarperCollins and written by a handful of white British women and their myriad ghostwriters. Racism is just one part of the picture. The books are frequently also ableist, sexist, and homophobic (or heteronormative, depending how you want to slice it, I guess), just to name some of the most evident problems.

But does the presence of these issues mean it’s contaminated and shouldn’t be touched? Personally, I don’t think so. Given the nature of existing the world, it’s not possible to find perfect media that is free of any kind of bias, prejudice, or even just ideas or topics or concepts that are challenging or uncomfortable. I think it’s more meaningful to choose to engage with these elements, discuss them, criticise them, learn from them, and acknowledge also that imperfection is the ultimate destiny of all of us, especially creators.

I’m not saying that as a pass, like, “oh enjoy your media willy-nilly, nothing matters, do what you want, think about no-one else ever because we’re all flawed beings,” but rather that it’s important not to look away from the problems in the things we enjoy, rather than cut off all contact and enjoyment when we realise the problems. That doesn’t mean you have to only criticise and always be talking about how bad a thing you like is either, publicly admonishing yourself or the text, because that’s also not a constructive way to engage with media.

As I said, there’s a lot to say here, and believe it or not, this is honestly the shortest version I could manage. There’s always more to say and plenty I haven’t talked about, but pretty much tl;dr:

I don’t find Person 2′s commentary particularly compelling, personally, because I think it’s a little broad and a little specious in its conclusions and evidence, and I also suspect that this person is speaking more from their feelings than from a genuine desire to educate or meaningfully criticise, unlike Person 1. That’s not to say Warriors isn’t frequently racist and guilty of the issues Person 1 is discussing, because it is, but I don’t think this tweet thread is a great source of insight into the ongoing history of this problem in xenofiction, or Warriors specifically, on its own. I would recommend exploring further afield to learn more from a variety of sources and form your own opinions. I hope this helps.

#just in case anyone sees this post and gets the wrong idea: i'm not inviting debate on this.#i am saying that first nations people are allowed to have ANY relationship with texts because that's how subjectivity works.#they are allowed to have negative neutral or positive experiences of texts--even 'bad' ones that have a lot of problems.#the people in this tweet are just talking about their thoughts and it's their bad luck the world's a public forum and it's spiralled.#the other thing i am saying is that if your approach to media is exclusively to cut out any problematic text like it's a cancer #that's not a great strategy. just straight up. you're better off developing critical insight and your own opinions and confidence.#by most parameters i can think of warriors as a series pretty much sucks really bad and i've been saying that for nearly ten years.#despite being so phenomenally flawed it can still have value--and much of its value in my opinion is IN these conversations about it.#so yeah tl;dr 2: i'm not here to slap-fight with teens which is what much discourse devolves to after 5 mins on tumblr so don't try it.

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nobodyfamousposts · 4 years ago

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Miracle Queen Aftermath

Because there is a disappointing lack of focus or depth for the aftermath of Miracle Queen in canon, I have made my own.

Be warned of: Chloe salt. A lot of it. Chloe faces consequences for things.

Some Bustier salt. Some Adrien being called out on things (but he gets better).

Enjoy!

In the weeks following the Miracle Queen incident, a lot had happened.

Hawk Moth had increased his power, and was now able to summon akumas and amoks at the same time.

Master Fu was gone and now Ladybug found herself the official Guardian of the Miraculous—along with the Miracle Box, kwamis, and duties that entails.

Marinette had resolved to let go of her crush on Adrien, and to support him and Kagami in their new relationship together.

And Chloe had been arrested and would now be going on trial for assisting a terrorist.

It was that last bit of news that had caused the most commotion in Paris and the world at large. What people would have dismissed as simply another akuma attack turned into a much greater matter when accusations started to be made about Chloe helping the super villain intentionally. This was soon backed by multiple eyewitness accounts and further proven by leaked video evidence showing Chloe not only attempting to grab a butterfly for herself after she was de-akumatized but even negotiating with the terrorist before the incident in which she betrayed the heroes of Paris and revealed the identities of most of the team.

To say that the people of Paris were outraged was putting it mildly. People were akumatized over it. Chloe was in a secured facility where she had armed guards around to watch her just as much as they were there to protect her. New legislation was being considered to specifically address willingly aiding supervillains. The backlash was so severe that many were calling the mayor’s own position into question.

After all, if his daughter could do all of that, who was to say that he wasn’t also in Hawk Moth’s pocket?

For Mayor Andre, his hands were tied. While he had covered for his daughter and her selfishness in the past, this was one thing he couldn’t overlook. Not when it brought his position as mayor under scrutiny. And certainly not when it opened a probe into his own dealings.

None of this was helped either by the multitude of witnesses of Chloe‘s past behavior. In particular, her many victims over the years.

And there were a lot.

Now that Chloe was actually being held accountable for something, it seemed to have opened a floodgate of outcries as the many people she tormented finally felt able to air their grievances. They came out on TV, on social media, on radio. Stories littered the air and internet of the horrors of dealing with this single teenage girl.

“She tried to cheat during this designing competition. She apparently stole some other girl’s hat design and tried to pass it off as her own.”

“She was the reason the mayor tried to shut down my ice skating rink! To build another gym! Paris has enough gyms! Why couldn’t she just go to one of those?”

“She had her dad shut down Clara Nightingale’s music video and got her akumatized just because she didn’t get to play Ladybug. We waited in that line for HOURS and didn’t get chosen either, but no one else threw a fit over it.”

“She shoved a giant signed poster of Adrien Agreste professing his love to her in my friend’s face just to make her cry! I found out after the fact that he didn’t even know about it!”

“Our entire school was punished for someone pulling the fire alarm except for her because she threatened our principal. So while the rest of us were having to clean up the school, she spent the entire time insulting and making fun of us.“

“Knowing her, she probably pulled the fire alarm in the first place.”

“She tried to crash a train! I don’t think I can emphasize that enough: she tried to crash a train!“

“Chloe Bourgeois joined up with Hawk Moth? Can’t say it’s a shock.”

“Yeah, given how many akumas she caused, I’d been wondering if she hadn’t been working with him all along.”

It wasn’t that unbelievable to the populous. Nor did anyone feel particularly sympathetic towards her for her current situation. Some might have for lack of knowing her, but Chloe had carved herself a special place in the memories and hearts of nearly every Parisian. There was nobody who didn’t know of her or have some experience with her by this point. So when it came out that she was arrested and facing criminal charges, the response was…rather telling.

Practically everyone was calling loved ones as soon as they heard, resulting in high phone and internet traffic. The Ladyblog crashed after making the announcement. Several people threw parties. People over the internet started coming up with a list of “Things We Will Be Allowed To Do Once Chloe Is In Prison”, with a count that currently rested at 139 and was rising quickly. One guy bought 500 cupcakes and just started passing them out to people on the street singing a jaunty little tune from some late 1930’s cult classic American movie. The school had closed down for a couple of days due to several teachers calling out sick—possibly with hangovers from celebrating a bit too hard. Various Queen-related hashtags and memes were trending with each seeming to fight for the top spot of most used. #let her eat cake was currently in the lead. And Mr. Ramier somehow orchestrated a 21 pigeon salute. On Chloe’s rooftop.

As it was, nobody expressed surprise when it came out that she worked with a supervillain. Many were disappointed, shaking their heads and saying “if only something had been done sooner” or blaming the parents and teachers and other adults in her life. Most were angry, mainly that things had been allowed to get this far and that they hadn’t been acted on earlier—particularly after the train incident.

But no. Nobody was surprised.

Except, perhaps, Marinette herself.

Still reeling from the events of Miracle Queen and the aftermath of…well…everything involved, Marinette had been questioning herself. Constantly. Incessantly. Going over and over in her mind all the things she could have done differently. Blaming herself for all the major blows to their team.

She lost her mentor. Her allies have been compromised. Chloe, one of her former allies, chose to betray them all. Hawk Moth had the grimoire now. Marinette didn’t have a grimoire. Fu had no memories.

And it was all because of her mistakes.

Last time, the prospect of never having to deal with Chloe again had been a relief.

Now…it was background static to her.

She could barely hear the announcements and cheers over the endless cycle of her own thoughts.

I should have tried harder. I should have been more aware. I failed them all. This is because of me.

So while everyone else in Paris was celebrating, de-stressing, or just outright reveling in the news, Marinette was grieving. With the help of the kwamis and Chat Noir, she had been trying to come to terms with what happened and figure out the next plan of action.

Hawk Moth had changed the game, so she needed to step up hers.

The days seemed to have passed in a blur. Between working with the kwamis, trying to recreate and retranslate the grimoire, and simply trying to deal with the remnants of Fu’s life that he had left to her, Marinette had barely even kept up with the current state of things in Paris. Or in particular, Chloe.

Not until the day came when Bustier made an announcement.

Chloe‘s trial date was finally decided. And though she didn’t say as such, it was clear that the case against her was pretty solid. There was video evidence. Eye witness accounts. And Chloe’s own words and actions working against her.

The odds were not in her favor on this. Even if her parents did try to help her, she wasn’t going to get off this time. Aside from getting the best lawyers money by, there really wasn’t much they could do.

Maybe that was why Bustier had tried to step in?

“Now class, I have received word that they are moving to the next step with Chloe’s hearing. Right now, they are looking for character witnesses for Chloe’s defense.” The kind teacher explained, causing Marinette to snap to awareness and realize just what was going on. Partly because of the mention of Chloe and her court case.

But mostly because of the sudden dead silence in the class…

To be fair, she wasn’t sure she could say anything either. Marinette felt her throat go dry and her muscles tense. There was a sudden tightness in her lungs that while she could breathe, it felt like she was suffocating. Why was Bustier bringing this up now?

The teacher smiled, seemingly unaware of the sudden tension and Marinette’s slow drowning. “I know this has been a difficult experience knowing that one of your classmates is facing such a trial. And Chloe will certainly need support. So I thought it would be kind if everyone wrote a letter supporting her for the hearing coming up, so the courts can hear about Chloe and understand more about who she is.”

Silence. Dead silence.

Maybe Bustier herself picked up on the growing tension, as she proceeded to move to passing out papers to the class. “I thought it would make for a nice project, so I will give you all the forms explaining the requirements. Take some time to think over what positive things you want to say about Chloe. If you have any questions, please feel free to come talk to me.”

After that, she quickly left the room, citing the desire to let them have this free time to work on the letters.

The class remained silent for a good minute after she left. Almost as if they were questioning if she would return. Or perhaps if she was listening.

Then—

“‘Think about what positive things we want to say about Chloe?’ Well that’s easy!” Alix spoke blithely, curling the paper she received into a ball. “Nothing!” She shouted and tossed it over her shoulder. “Assignment done!”

Murmurs filled the classroom. Some sounded uncertain, but most seemed to be in agreement. Or at least expressing distaste for the assignment.

“Is she serious?”

“Does she really expect us to?”

“Of all the worst ideas...”

Marinette could hear them, but couldn’t seem to acknowledge anything around her. And furthermore, she couldn’t make herself respond.

Chloe‘s trial was set for a point in the next few weeks, and at this point there was no denying just what type of person she was. If anything, this was probably the first time that anyone was allowed to actually speak their mind about the girl, and they were all reveling in it. Her classmates in particular.

Marinette couldn’t quite bring herself to.

Sure, Chloe has tried to blackmail her more than once.

And damaged her gift to their teacher.

And attempted to frame her a few times.

And stolen her hat design.

And her diary.

And a Miraculous.

And all of the other Miraculous.

But...she had been doing better for a while there, hadn’t she?

Didn’t she only betray them all in the end because Marinette had chosen Kagami over her for her own selfish reasons? Didn’t Hawk Moth only capture Fu because of her own mistake? Hadn’t Chloe only revealed everyone else because she felt betrayed? Couldn’t Marinette have done more to prevent Chloe turning?

Wasn’t a simple letter on Chloe’s virtues the least she could do?

So why...

Why couldn’t she seem to bring herself to?

Kim frowned, looking at his paper in worry. “We’re not going to get graded on this, are we?”

Nathaniel huffed. “I’ll willingly take the failing grade any day.”

“Hear hear!”

“But if it’s a grade…” Max murmured to himself. Out of everyone in the class, he took his grades the most seriously, so this was no doubt a difficult choice for him. He looked at his paper with a rather conflicted expression for a minute before sighing and turning it face-down on the desk. “No. It’s an impossible task in the first place.”

Kim rested a hand on Max’s shoulder in sympathy. It wasn’t that he cared as much about grades as Max did, but it was clear that the fallout of refusing could be more troubling for the genius who took his academic performance so seriously. If Bustier did make it a mandatory assignment with a grade, it’d be horribly unfair of her.

“What was it Chloe said before?” Ivan asked, looking over his page with a glare. “Once a monster, always a monster? I guess she’d know more than anyone.”

Mylene hugged him. “You’re not a monster. You never chose to be.”

“None of us did.” Nino agreed.

“Nobody did except her.” Alix bit out.

Mumbles of agreement came from the rest of the class. It was clear that none of them were on board with having anything to do with Chloe, much less try to help her with her current legal woes.

There was a large part of Marinette that agreed with them. But even so, there was also a large part of her that insisted she had to do the right thing and help.

She knew she should say something. She was supposed to say something here. Because it was her fault, after all. She was Ladybug. She had to be the better person. Shouldn’t she?

“Marinette? Girl, are you okay?” Alya asked, drawing her attention. “You look a bit pale.”

It was too much. It was suffocating.

“I think I need some air. Excuse me.”

She didn’t know if anyone watched her leave the classroom. She hadn’t even noticed if anyone had chosen to follow her.

Not until…

“Marinette, are you all right?”

She spun around in surprise.

“Oh! Adrien! Hey! Hi! Hello!” She blabbered. Why was he here? Did he come out after her? Why? She didn’t need this right now! She struggled enough with him under normal circumstances, she wasn’t sure she could handle being alone with him now. Her stress over everything was bad enough, but having him approach her set her anxiety skyrocketing.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling at her—and oh, what a beautiful smile. On any other day, it would ease her worries and make her want to swoon, but right now, it just made her more nervous.

“Are you all right?” He asked again. “You didn’t look so well in class.”

“Y-yeah. Just…” she sighed. “I just have a lot on my mind. With…you know…everything.”

He nodded in understanding. “I know what you mean.”

She smiled. She could always count on Adrien to be a calming supportive friend. He was always so sweet and reliable. If anyone could understand or relate to the chaotic mix of emotions she was feeling, he could.

He sighed in sympathy. “Poor Chloe.”

She froze.

“Chloe?”

“Well, yeah.” He replied, like it was obvious. “I mean, she did a bad thing, but now she’s going through the worst experience of her life. One that could ruin her future. And people are glad about it!” He shook his head. “It’s just too cruel.”

Marinette just stared.

He wasn’t wrong. But…that was what he was worried about?

She couldn’t fault him of course, because Adrien was always so kind and considerate and of course he’d feel for Chloe but…something about this just…pulled at something inside of her and was choking it.

“Chloe is already suffering enough and it feels like no one wants to help her. You heard them.” He gestured back to the classroom. “We’re being given an opportunity to make a difference for her and they’re all just saying she deserves it. Chloe is alone and hurting and they want her to hurt more.”

She felt a denial on her lips but couldn’t give voice to it.

“Everyone is so great with each other. It’s always just Chloe who is kind of on the outside. I know you’ve seen it.”

She hadn’t, actually. Because it was never Chloe on the outside looking in, it was Chloe looking down on them. Whether it was because she genuinely thought she was better or because it made her feel better to do so.

He hesitated for a moment before looking at her. And there was something in his expression that told her he was about to ask something. A gut feeling told her that it was going to be something she wouldn’t like.

“Do you think you could talk to them?” He asked her, looking so sad and despondent that she just wanted to hug him and agree to anything to make that look go away.

“M-me?”

He wanted her to convince her classmates to help Chloe?

“I know you and Chloe have had your differences, but you’ve been able to see past her front. And you’ve done a lot to help her before.” He smiled. “Like the party you threw for her after she became Queen Bee.”

A traitorous voice asked if giving her a second chance with the Miraculous she had previously stolen wasn’t enough? Why did she have to feel bad for her leaving and throw her a party to make her feel special?

“Chloe really needs the help right now. And you’re always so good about that sort of thing.” He looked to her imploringly. “Do you think you could try to get them to at least give Chloe a hand? I don’t know what impact it’ll have in her hearing, but any little bit helps, right?”

Go back in there? With the tension and the suffocation to try and convince her classmates to help when she was questioning whether to herself?

But she had to, right? After all, couldn’t she have prevented this if she had acted sooner? Couldn’t she have helped sooner instead of being focused on her own petty problems? Isn’t that what Ladybug should do?

“Please, Marinette? They listen to you. If you asked them to, I’m sure they’d be willing to at least try.”

Her vision started to dim, seeming to tunnel in on Adrien and his sad and hopeful expression. Her thoughts crying about CHLOE and poor CHLOE and how hurt CHLOE was and how it was her fault for CHLOE—

“I—”

“Oh no! No, you do NOT.”

Marinette suddenly found herself torn away from Adrien by a sudden grab of her arm and pulling sensation. She felt as if she was pushed out of the way by a fierce gale. Like a raging whirlwind had spun her around and behind it.

That whirlwind’s name was Alya.

“How dare you? How dare you try to make my girl be responsible for this!”

Marinette floundered because she had not expected this and oh no now her best friend looked ready to tear her crush’s head off!

“Alya, we don’t have to do this!” She pleaded, trying to calm the other girl down.

“Oh, we most certainly do.” Came another voice. And sure enough, the rest of the class had stepped out as well. All of them looked in varying ranges of frustrated and that frustration was clearly directed at her and Adrien.

Or rather just Adrien, as Marinette discovered when Rose and Juleka pulled her aside and out of their direct line of sight. They were all looking at Adrien, and those were not nice or understanding expressions.

Oh no! This was a disaster! Now everyone was upset and she should have just agreed or said something sooner!

Completely unaware of Marinette’s inner turmoil, Alya stepped forward and jabbed at Adrien in the chest. “You are not going to make my girl feel bad and try to help someone who has never done a single nice thing for her or anyone.” She spat out, forcing him to back away.

Adrien held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Come on, Chloe is not that bad.“

“Not that bad?” Nino exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief at his friend’s words. “Adrien, Chloe betrayed us!“

“She took over Paris!”

“She turned us into her servants!“

“Not to mention the other things…”

“Do we really have to name each time?” Alya started to count on her fingers. “Chloe CHOSE to take the Miraculous for herself instead of returning it. She CHOSE to transform in front of everyone and reveal her identity to the world. She CHOSE to try and crash a train, risking the lives of EVERYONE on board just to show off. She CHOSE to run off with it when Ladybug tried to take it back.”

“She also chose to continue being horrible to everyone even after Ladybug gave her a second chance.” Nathaniel added, bitterly. “She didn’t get better after becoming Queen Bee. It just became another thing for her to lord over people.”

Alya nodded. “And when Ladybug made it clear to her that she wasn’t going to be Queen Bee again, she felt ENTITLED to something that was never hers in the first place. And because of that, she made the active, knowing, and willful choice to work with Hawk Moth.”

“And out all of us while she was at it.” Kim added. “Turning us into her personal ‘guard’. Making us fight our heroes against our will.” He shuddered. “I don’t know if you were hit by those things, Adrien, but it was NOT a pleasant experience having your body turned into a puppet.”

Adrien wanted to argue that he understood full well, but that was only as Chat. He couldn’t say that here.

Unaware of his inner turmoil, Alya continued. “So no, we are not going to forgive Chloe. We are not going to try and ‘get along’ with her because her own poor choices have led her to have a ‘rough time’.”

Adrien grew nervous at the way the others drew closer to Alya as she spoke, clearly backing her statements as she continued.

“We are not going to defend her or speak up on her behalf to the entirety of Paris she ALSO betrayed. Whatever consequences Chloe has to face—quite possibly the first ones she will EVER have faced in her LIFE—are nothing less than what she deserves.”

“Yeah!” Came the exclamations from the rest of the crowd.

“She didn’t know what she was doing!” Adrien argued.

“Not know what she was doing?! Adrien, she willingly accepted an akuma! She used it to take control of us and revealed us to Hawk Moth!” Alya exclaimed. “That’s just—how can you even justify that?”

With as angry as Alya was, any lesser or wiser man would have backed off.

Adrien…well, she certainly would never call him unwise, so it had to be because he was more strong-willed than that to be willing to stand his ground here.

“Hawk Moth was the one who manipulated Chloe!” He insisted. “And he’s the one who got away scott free and left Chloe to take the fall.”

“And whose fault was that?” Alya countered. “Chloe HELPED him. He only got as far as he did because of her and he only got away because she helped him!”

“Don’t you think this is cruel?” He argued back. “Yes, Chloe was wrong, but she was already called out for what she did by Ladybug and Chat Noir. The entire city hates her. Isn’t that enough?”

“NO!” Alya shouted. “No, it isn’t! Because Chloe has always gotten away with her antics in the past but you’re actually trying to get us to let Chloe off for a legitimate crime here! If Chloe is going to prison, it’s only because she deserves it!”

Around them, several of the others in the class nodded in agreement.

“How can you say that?” Adrien demanded. “Chloe made a mistake and she’s suffering for it! All this time, she’s felt left out and cut off and this only further emphasizes that for her! She’s been alone all this time and now she’s alone and miserable!”

“Then why should that be OUR problem?” Alya questioned, raising her hands in exasperation. “Why are you trying to MAKE it our problem?!”

Adrien drew back, looking genuinely hurt.

"But treating someone badly never made them become a good person."

"Yeah, because letting Chloe have her way all this time has totally made strides in her path to becoming a good person." Alix called out sarcastically.

"If anything, it's made her worse." Max added. "She's gone from simply causing akumas to intentionally becoming one."

“But—”

Alya cut him off. “But nothing, Adrien! You have to have some gall to be trying to get us to make nice with Chloe after she betrayed us all! And here I thought your little lecture to Marinette to make her feel bad for being relieved that Chloe was leaving Paris was pretty hard to beat.”

Nino blanched at that. “You did what?” He turned on Adrien. “Dude! You know that happened after Chloe tried to crash that train!”

“She was just trying to prove herself.” Adrien weakly argued.

“PEOPLE were on there!” Nino bit out. “They could have DIED because Chloe was showing off! And you got on to MARINETTE? Where was this attitude with Chloe?”

“I’ve called her out!”

“Yeah, one time.” Alya groused. “AFTER the rest of us had spent the better part of the day cleaning up after HER mess. Which she never apologized for or admitted to doing, by the way.”

“And in response, she threw a party.” Juleka muttered.

“It was a nice party, sure.” Rose added quickly.

Alya though shook her head. “But being a good hostess is nowhere near the same thing as being a good person. And before the night was over, you rolled over for her and she went RIGHT back to acting as she always had.”

“She made Mylene cry.” Ivan glared. “She made Mylene cry and you just laughed.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You said it yourself: ‘she’ll never change’. Except you said that like it was a good thing.”

Marinette looked back and forth between the two, everything inside her screaming at her to help. But she was completely lost on which one she was supposed to help. Because Adrien had a point about what Chloe’s going through but Alya was right about what Chloe did and she needed to do the “right thing” and help Chloe but why did everything Alya say resonate so strongly with her and bring such a feeling of vindication—

No. She was getting distracted. She needed to help. And right now, it was Adrien against the rest of the class.

But Alya was worked up. And Adrien was looking past her to Marinette, eyes begging for help and still so hopeful that she would step in. And Chloe was still in prison and Marinette could fix everything if she just tried so why can’t she try?

“Alya,” Marinette tried. “You told me to give Chloe a chance before after the fire alarm incident, remember? You said we were a lot alike.”

“That was to get you to go to a party!” Alya shouted, making Marinette step back in surprise. “I never meant it like this!”

She stepped forward and took Marinette by the shoulders, holding her sternly.

“Marinette, you are nothing like Chloe! Not where it counts! Yeah, you both can be short sighted when it comes to trying for what you want, but you at least notice and CARE how other people feel! And when you make a mistake, you at least TRY to make it right!”

She shook her head.

“Chloe…doesn’t.”

“She doesn’t try to.” Alix cut in. “If Chloe was feeling sad and lonely, that was pretty much her own fault.”

Adrien looked like he wanted to argue, but Alix didn’t even give him a chance.

“It wasn’t like we left her out. We went well out of our way to try and befriend her. We invited her to things. We tried to help her. Hell, you said it yourself—Marinette has tried to help her more than anybody! And each and every time, Chloe only took what we offered like it was something we owed her but that she was also too good for. I mean, I certainly can’t recall a time she ever thanked me. Can you?” She asked, turning to the other classmates.

All around them, there were murmurs of agreement. Maybe a couple hesitated as they tried to recall a time—one single moment of kindness on Chloe’s part only to come up empty.

“Chloe’s had a hard time.” Adrien insisted. “You know how her parents are—”

“Oh yes, her ‘Daddy the Mayor’.” Alix rolled her eyes. “Like we don’t hear enough about him every time it comes to something Chloe wants. She only threatens us or anyone with him every other day.”

Adrien shook his head and tried to explain. “It’s only because her parents aren’t there for her emotionally.”

“Again, not seeing how this is our problem? Or justification for anything she’s done to us? Or how this excuses her willingly helping a supervillain?”

“Because we’re her classmates!” He argued back, gesturing to all of them. “Out of everyone, we’ve all had the most interactions with her.”

“All of which were negative.” Came a cutting remark, followed by grumbling.

“There were good times, too!” Adrien insisted with a frown. His eyes spanned over the assembled classmates before they came to rest on one in particular. “Kim, you have to have seen Chloe’s good side. You liked her before.”

“Before.” Kim replied, emphasizing the word and the timeframe it referred to. “But being humiliated and her sending out that pic to everyone in school kind of crushed that crush.”

“How did she even have our numbers?” Ivan asked.

“But there had to be something that made you like her in the first place.” Adrien encouraged.

The taller boy shrugged, uncertain and uncaring. “Maybe so, but was it something that was really there? Or something I just wanted to see? Because I’m looking back and quite frankly, I don’t know what past me was thinking.”

“Wow, that’s deep, man.” Nathaniel whispered.

“Thanks!”

Seeing Nathaniel gave Adrien an idea. “Wait, Nathaniel! Didn’t Chloe let you put her in your comic?”

“Forced us to, more like.” The artist bit back. “And even when we tried to fit her, we got nothing but complaints from her. It was no wonder we never got past the initial concept art for her character.”

Adrien winced. “It was an attempt, at least?”

Nathaniel wasn’t buying it. “A poor one.”

“She’s been trying to be better.” Adrien was getting increasingly frustrated. This was not how he was expecting this argument to go. “Rose? What about you? You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

After all, Rose was sweet and caring, always willing to see the good in anyone. Surely she would have something nice about Chloe!

Juleka frowned at him over his focus on her girlfriend and moved to stand beside her. “Don’t push her.”

Still he tried.

“Rose?”

“I’m sorry, Adrien.” Rose said, hugging herself. “But Chloe has done nothing but hurt people. And going out of our way to protect her has only ended up biting us.”

That wasn’t true. Not...all the time at least. There had to have been at least one instance where she did the right thing!

Adrien brightened in realization. “Didn’t she catch you when you fell after being deakumatized during Heroes Day?”

The blonde girl frowned. “Well, yes…but she wasn’t very nice about it. Even though I did the same for her before.”

“Rose, come on…”

She shook her head. “I put myself at risk to help Chloe when she was being chased by zombies, and only got turned into one for my efforts. Chloe never appreciated it. She never thanked me. She didn’t even do anything to help when we were trying to keep her safe!”

“We all ended up kissing zombies because of her.” Alix accused, crossing her arms and looking particularly annoyed. “And not just because she caused the akuma in the first place.”

“Why are you pushing this?” Mylene asked. “We’ve been asked. We said no. Isn’t that enough?”

“But—”

“Adrien, you’ve got a good heart.” Ivan started.

“Easy for him when he’s not the one who has to be on the receiving end of Chloe’s tantrums.” Alix cut in, clearly sounding bitter.

“You’ve got a good heart.” Ivan repeated, sending Alix a look that asked her to back off. “But Chloe…doesn’t.”

Adrien shook his head, remaining insistent. “That’s why she needs help.”

“If she needs help,” Mylene spoke, “It should come from her parents. Her teachers. Any of the adults in her life. She has plenty of adults who are fully capable of helping her. It should not be expected to come from the kids she’s spent years tormenting.”

She gestured to herself and the others around her. “And that’s what she’s been doing: tormenting us.”

“To great joy, might I add.” Max droned.

“She hasn’t been cruel to everyone.” Adrien muttered.

That brought out a backlash of outrage.

“She outted my crush!”

“She insulted Mylene’s cooking and made her cry!”

“She got Aurore akumatized and nearly caused Paris to be incinerated in a volcano!”

“She tried to push Mylene out of the lead role of our movie!”

“She locked Juleka in the restroom!”

Wait...

But that hadn’t been Chloe. She had stayed with the class at the time. The one who did do it was...

He glanced around until he saw her—a redhead in the background behind the rest of the class. She looked anxious and uncomfortable, and almost seemed to be trying to edge around the class to get to the stairs.

Adrien did seem aware. Or rather, he was focused on the fact she was there.

“Sabrina? What about you? Chloe was your friend!”

Of course she would help! Because who better than her own best friend to speak on her behalf?

The rest of the class broke into mutters as they realized the same.

But Sabrina...bit her lip and looked away. Refusing to even meet Adrien’s gaze.

“Sabrina?” Marinette tried, concerned about this reaction. Sabrina had been Chloe’s best friend—or at least the closest thing she could have to a friend. “Minion” or “Servant” would be more accurate. “Slave” would be more honest.

The girl had been Chloe’s only real fan and follower, and had assisted Chloe in some of her worst plots.

Marinette had briefly seen another side to her. A girl who was so desperate for friendship that she latched onto even the slightest bit of kindness and went to the greatest of extremes to appease the “friend” so they wouldn’t leave her. It was no wonder she had fallen in with Chloe—someone like that was perfect for the spoiled girl. Compared to her, Marinette’s anxieties and need to please were nothing.

And Chloe had pretty much been her world for years.

What must she be feeling now?

“Should we really be getting her opinion?” Ivan whispered. “You know how she and Chloe were…”

“Well, if anyone would have anything positive to tell the courts about Chloe, it would be her.” Mylene whispered back.

Sabrina took a breath and spoke quickly—almost shouting in her rush.

“I’m sorry but my therapist said I shouldn’t!”

That got a surprise. The rest of the classmates glanced to each other before looking back to the girl. Adrien in particular looked shell-shocked. Marinette couldn’t blame him. She felt the same.

Sabrina for her part seemed to tense up, as if ready to defend herself from the rest of the class.

Marinette stepped forward. “Sabrina? Are…you okay?”

The other girl shook her head, looking close to tears.

“After word got out what Chloe did, the police had to question me about Chloe. They were able to see that I wasn’t involved, but they…didn’t like what I told them about our relationship. Afterwards, my dad decided to have me see a counselor and she…has been telling me things that I hadn’t really considered.” She curled in on herself. “They all think I should stay away from Chloe and anything directly related to her…for my own health.”

Adrien frowned at that. “But don’t you want to help Chloe?”

Sabrina jumped. “Of course, I do!”

“Hold up, Adrien!” Nino stepped in. “She just said police took her in because of Chloe!”

“But they let her go…”

“It still happened!” Mylene argued. “It doesn’t matter how nice they are, how innocent you know you are, or if you’re released in the end, it’s still terrifying when it happens!”

"And it only happened to her because of Chloe." Alya added.

Rose, in her infinite sweetness, reached out to take Sabrina’s hand in support. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Sabrina sobbed and covered her face. Aside from Rose, no one else really attempted to comfort her. Most of them simply watched her, pitying her current state. But they also remembered how complicit she had been in Chloe’s schemes, so they were conflicted. While they did feel bad for her current situation, there was a part of most of them that noted how she had brought it upon herself by being Chloe‘s lackey for so long, so their sympathy was limited.

Perhaps it was out of awkwardness, or maybe an attempt to give some respect for Sabrina’s privacy that the classmates turned away from her and instead focused on the heart of the argument.

“Man...” Nino tried. “Maybe you should let it go?” Though it was clear from his tone that he knew it wasn’t likely.

Because Adrien had still not given up, it seemed.

He looked around between of the classmates, growing more desperate. But those that remained either looked at him straight on as if daring him to call on them or looked away. A few of them even closed ranks as if to block his view of certain others. It was clear none of them were willing to help him on this.

None of them except…

“Marinette.” He called out, drawing her gaze to him instantly. “You understand, don’t you?”

She bit her lip. “I…”

“Back off, Adrien.” Kim said, giving the other boy an angry frown as he stood in front of her to shield her from his gaze. “It’s not on Marinette to help Chloe.”

“Yeah! She suffered more than any of us!“ Ivan shouted.

“She has been Chloe’s main target for years.” Nathaniel agreed. “She is the last person who is obligated to help Chloe now.“

Adrien winced at the harshness of their words and in their tone. “I just thought that Marinette could help. Like before.”

“Just because she could doesn’t mean she should have had to.” Alya countered. “She’s a teenager. Dealing with Chloe should have been the job of adults. Her parents. Bustier. Damocles. Any one of them should have done something—and if they can’t, the courts will. It’s their job. Not ours.”

“And getting her to help you wouldn’t make a difference anyway even if you had convinced us.” Max said, shifting his glasses. “Chloe helped Hawk Moth. There is nothing we could say that could undo that. And even if we did try, we would either be guilty of committing perjury or aiding in a conspiracy.”

“What?” Adrien jerked in surprise.

“The best we can do is be character witnesses.” Mylene explained. “But this is a court and we can’t claim something that isn’t true! We can’t say anything nice about Chloe when she hasn’t done anything nice!”

Max nodded and shifted his glasses. “Furthermore, our testimonies—even if they were positive—would only serve to create a narrative about Chloe and the type of person she is. They can’t explain away the current evidence against her.”

He rubbed the back of his head. He knew there were issues, but he also knew Chloe. He knew what she could be like. He knew she was a good person deep down. “I know she’s made some mistakes—”

“No.” Alya stated sharply. “Calling them ‘Mistakes’ implies that her actions were unintentional. ‘Mistakes’ implies that people were harmed by accident. ‘Mistakes’ implies that she would have any point learned from them. They weren’t mistakes, Adrien. They were willful acts of cruelty every single time.”

Ivan shook his head, pityingly. “We can’t save Chloe from this. We have nothing to say in her defense. The kindest thing we can do for her is stay silent.”

“She’s better than you think she is. She threw that party once for everyone, remember? You all went.” Adrien reminded them.

“That only proved that she could throw a party and be a good host, not that she could be a good person. There is a difference.” Nathaniel pointed out.

“Not that Chloe could tell.“ Alix sniped.

Adrien ignored the barb. He had given up on getting any of them to listen and now only had eyes for her. His last hope.

“Marinette….come on…please.”

She hesitated.

Everything in her that was Ladybug and her crush on Adrien and her desire to make people happy and take the high road and give second-third-fourth chances wanted nothing more than to give it to him.

Except...

There was a long pause. No one spoke.

The other classmates have had their say. They were letting Marinette have hers. And she knew in that moment that if she spoke up…if she did as Adrien wished and tried to help Chloe…she knew they would go along with her. It may be more out of respect for Marinette than it would be out of any sort of forgiveness for anything Chloe had done, but it would still help Chloe and it would still make Adrien happy.

…and hadn’t Marinette already done that enough?

“Did you know?” Marinette started, not looking at anyone. “I would have been well within my rights to press charges against Chloe?”

Adrien balked at that.

“She’s stolen from me at least three times now.” She shrugged. “I mean, sure, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything about my diary since she had Sabrina steal it for her, but she did steal my hat design for a competition and I had proof. I could have pressed charges against Chloe and let her face some consequences…but I didn’t.”

She looked up at Adrien. “I also could have pressed charges for what she did to my gift for Madame Bustier. Since she did break into my locker and vandalize my property while it was still technically mine…but I didn’t.

“Adrien.” She spoke almost in monotone, the only sign of her emotions being how she clenched her fists. “Did you know that after the fashion show, my parents and I took a train to get home?”

He furrowed his brows in confusion. What did that have to do with anything?

“It was the same train Chloe took control of and nearly caused to crash.”

Several gasps resounded around them. Apparently this had not been common knowledge.

“Even if Chloe could have bought her way out of any consequence for the other things, we all could certainly have had her face some major trouble for that one…” Marinette took a shuddering breath. “But we didn’t.”

Adrien frowned. “I…I see that—”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She cut him off. “Because instead of any of that…rather than hold Chloe accountable at any point, I catered to her. I tried to understand Chloe. I tried to make things nicer for Chloe. I tried to excuse Chloe. Time and again. Just like everyone else. Just like you wanted me to. Just like you’re asking me to now. And what did that get us?”

The more she talked, the more words filled out and she was unable to stop the torrent.

“I defended her from Alya after Madame Bustier was akumatized, and Chloe stole a Miraculous and nearly got my family killed. I helped Chloe bond with her Mom—costing myself any chance at a once in a lifetime opportunity in the process—and Chloe tried to get me banished from Paris just for saying she wasn’t a superhero. I threw Chloe a party to show her some appreciation, and she willingly worked with a supervillain to take over Paris. Just to fuel her ego and because she felt she was owed something that wasn’t hers.”

She tilted her head, considering.

“What is that American saying? Three strikes and you’re out?” Her eyes narrowed. “I have given Chloe more than three chances. I have done nothing BUT give her chances. And clean up after her. And just…try to help her. At no point has she been grateful. At no point did she ever apologize. Or show the slightest bit of remorse for anyone she hurt. Or just…try to do better.”

She stepped forward. Past her classmates. Past Alya, who looked ready to tear into Adrien herself.

“So tell me, Adrien. How much more am I supposed to do? What miracle am I supposed to achieve to help Chloe to be a better person that I haven’t already done?”

“You can just try.” Adrien begged. “Chloe’s alone. She has no one in her corner. You’ve given her chances before! Can’t you find it in your heart to give her another chance this time?”

“Why haven’t you?” Alya demanded.

Adrien drew back in surprise at that.

But the girl wasn’t letting him off. “If you’re so certain Chloe is the victim in all this, then why aren’t you stepping up to help her? Why are you pushing Marinette and the rest of us to do it?”

Alya wrapped an arm around Marinette in support. “If you truly believe Chloe has some sort of inner goodness that only needs the right person to bring it out, then it’s pretty clear Marinette is just not that person. She’s tried enough.”

Alix nodded. “I’m pretty sure she could’ve demolished a brick wall with how many time she’s banged her head against it by this point trying to drag a decent person out of Chloe.”

Others in the class also nodded and gave sounds of agreement to that.

Adrien frowned, lowering his head despondently. “I’m just one person. There’s only so much weight my word will have. I just...I just want to give her the best chance.”

“That’s nice for Chloe, I guess.” Kim muttered. “But not much for us.”

Adrien looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Alya stepped forward, releasing Marinette in the process. “Adrien, why should we as Chloe’s victims have to help protect her? That’s the thing we’re not getting here. WE are the ones she hurt. WE are the ones she betrayed to Hawk Moth. So why are WE supposed to try and save her from her own consequences? Why are you wanting us to?”

Adrien hesitated.

“Can you even imagine what it was like? Being frozen in time. Unable to move or speak? Only able to hear her voice in your head? Feeling your body respond as she’s calling you and being unable to stop?” She clutched her arms, as if trying to hug herself. “Do you have any idea how terrified I was knowing what she was doing to us but being completely unable to stop it? How humiliating it was when she had us bowing to her and calling her our Queen? And then…” She took a breath. “She made us fight our heroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir trusted us to help them and we used the Miraculous they entrusted to us to try and kill them.”

“We were just lucky that they were able to turn the tables on us.” Kim muttered. “I don’t even want to know what would have happened if we had won.”

“Luka still has nightmares.” Juleka whispered. “He won’t talk about it, but he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.”

Marinette winced. She hadn’t even considered that everyone else could be suffering ramifications of Miracle Queen as well.

“We could have killed them.” Max stated. “Given the nature of the Snake Miraculous’s power, we very well could have more than once for all we know.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have killed them?” Rose suggested, trying to be positive. “I mean, Chloe wanted all of the Miraculous, right? She probably wanted them as her servants as well.”

Max glared. “I’m pretty sure I attempted to send Chat Noir into space. Even a Miraculous can’t protect someone from that.”

Adrien tried not to wince at the memory. How he managed to even move enough to activate the Miraculous, he still wasn’t sure.

“We fought against them. We never wanted to, but we did.” Alya bit out. “Not even because of Hawk Moth this time, but because of Chloe. And now you are wanting us to just…overlook the trauma of the whole thing to help Chloe after what she did. For something she hasn’t shown even the slightest remorse for.”

She shook her head.

“I know you’re nice, Adrien. But this level of kindness is a cruelty.”

He winced. And it looked like he wanted to argue. But he just…wilted.

“I just…it feels harsh. What’s happening to her. The amount of hate she’s getting. That her entire life could be over.”

That was true. While they felt her current status was well deserved, it was a harsh sentence for anyone. Especially a teenager.

Nathaniel sighed. “Adrien, it is harsh. Maybe cruel. But fact is that she still brought on herself.”

“Isn’t that just victim-blaming though?” Adrien countered, frustrated now. “I mean, Hawk Moth manipulated her! How was that her fault? He’s the one who did it. She was…” He clenched his fists in anger. “Chloe is a victim.”

“No, we are the victims.” Alya insisted, gesturing to herself and the other revealed former heroes. “We were the ones used to fight our heroes. We were the ones who had our identities revealed to the world against our will. And now we are the ones having to live with the results of Chloe‘s choices, just like we always are.“

Adrien looked ready to argue. And maybe he would have, except...

Nino rested a hand on Adrien’s shoulder.

“Adrien. Dude. Just stop. We have enough to deal with and this…this isn’t helping.”

Adrien frowned at that, concerned by his friend’s attitude. “Nino?”

Nino lowered his head. “I wasn’t going to say anything. Really, I was trying not to think about it. But my parents are currently talking with police about their options. Now that I’ve been exposed as one of the temporary heroes, they’re questioning if it’s not safe for us at home anymore. There is a chance of us having to go into protective custody.”

Alya winced at that, drawing attention to her. “My parents have been talking as well. My mom quit her job. She said she doesn’t want to work for someone who would let their daughter do such a thing and put me in danger. She’s looking at drawing me out of school since it was pretty much Chloe‘s base of operations. And since Chloe is the Mayor’s daughter…and Hawk Moth…and just…everything?” She looked away, clearly anxious.

“There’s a chance we may have to move out of Paris altogether.”

Marinette gasped.

Alya looked to the other girl, sad and guilty all in one. “I’m sorry, girl. I guess I’ve been hoping it wouldn’t be an issue. I’ve been trying to talk them out of it, but it’s hard given everything that happened. Currently, the only reason they’re willing to stay is to see through to the end of the trial. But after that…” She shrugged, shaking her head uncertainly. “Who can say?”

“No…” Adrien whispered in shock.

The others in class came closer around her, trying to offer some comfort and reassurances—what little they could give, at least. This was a situation that was clearly beyond them. Marinette herself hugged Alya tightly for all she was worth, and the other girl held her back just as much, neither wanting to be parted.

Adrien, however, remained on the outside looking in. Watching the people Chloe had tormented even before Miracle Queen and realizing just how badly they’ve been hurt by this. It hit him then—for what was perhaps the first time just how much pain Chloe had caused his friends. And how unfair he had been to expect them to simply deal with it.

He stayed the lone person outside of the circle. By this point, did he really deserve to join in the comfort? To try to be the one to give comfort? After what he had tried to push on them all?

After minutes passed, they were finally able to draw away from each other.

“I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.” Alya told Marinette. “I guess I was just hoping…y’know…that it wasn’t real. Or that it would go away and things would work out on their own.”

Marinette smiled. “No, I understand.”

And she did. That’s exactly what she herself had been doing for the past few weeks as well. Trying to deal with things without really dealing with them. Working without acknowledging just what it all meant because she was scared she would break down and that would be just one more thing Hawk Moth would have won because of this whole mess.

“I was kind of the same way.” She admitted, and it felt like a slight relief to be able to say aloud to someone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you about it.”

She still couldn’t, unfortunately. Not about Ladybug and the kwamis and the Miracle Box.

But…she could talk about Fu. How she lost him. How she feels. She could help support Alya and her classmates and be there for them in the meantime.

She…hadn’t lost everything.

Not yet.

And that was the scary thing…

Adrien gaped at the group. He had thought the trauma was bad enough, and that at least could be worked through. But this...

“I’m sorry. I...I didn’t even realize...”

“Adrien, what Chloe did put a major target on our backs.” Alya explained. “Nobody knows how we became heroes, or that Ladybug was the one to specifically choose us and give us the miraculous to use. Nobody knows WHY we were chosen. It’s not just Hawk Moth, any regular criminal can come after us now in an attempt to get a hold of that power. And we can’t exactly protect ourselves.”

She shrugged helplessly.

“We kind of have enough to worry about with the fallout of Chloe‘s actions. And now you want us to try and protect Chloe on top of that?“

Seeing it now, in this light...it was cruel. It was cruel and unfair and hurtful, and Marinette felt horrible for considering letting herself be talked into it.

Adrien himself felt horrible for even suggesting it.

“We all have to live with the consequences of Chloe’s choices.” Alya stated. “So why shouldn’t she?”

Silence followed. It practically echoed throughout the entire hallway.

He said nothing in response. What could he possibly say? He’d known that Chloe was…difficult with other people, to say the least. He’d known the type of person she was. But she was his friend and friends forgive and support each other, right?

But they were right as well. It wasn’t fair to expect them to help Chloe after what she did. Especially once he knew of the level of harm she’d caused them. He felt the horror trickle in. The trauma everyone felt. The knowledge of what they’d been forced to do. The fact that…

He suddenly found it harder to breathe.

Nino could leave.

Adrien could lose his best friend because of this.

And who knew how many of the others would be forced to leave as well. Aside from Nino; Kim, Max, Alya, and Luka were other heroes as well. Juleka was Luka’s sister. And how many of the other classmates might be pulled out of this class and school because it’s unsafe? And Kagami—oh god, she was outted as well. He hadn’t heard from her in a while. Her mother is probably furious. She could move back to Japan because of this. And Marinette…she had been lucky to not be caught up in that fight since she was a hero only the one time, but that could have been just one more thing Chloe ruined for her…

…what about himself?

He paled.

He was longtime friends with Chloe. Went to school with Chloe. Was in class with Chloe. Chloe, who was currently getting a lot of heat from all of Paris. How was his Father going to react to that? The man was always focused on the company and appearances…what would he do now that Chloe had fallen from grace in such a way? Would he forbid Adrien from talking to Chloe again? Would he pull Adrien from school?

…would he ban Adrien from leaving the house altogether?

How was he only just now considering the impact? For himself or anyone else? Of course people would be hurt. Of course they would be upset. Of course people would respond. Somehow, he knew that, and yet he had only been focused on Chloe that it hadn’t actually hit home until now…

And in that light…

It had been selfish to ask. Honestly, he’d known that when he first tried to approach Marinette. But he felt he had to try. Honestly, part of him had known better than to ask in the first place. But at the same time…there was a part of him that still believed things could just go back to “normal”.

…how foolish. That was a “normal” that nobody else wanted. And even more, it was one that was now impossible…all because of Chloe herself.

“I just wanted to help.”

He deflated, losing all remaining fight.

“I’m sorry.”

The classmates glanced between each other. There was much they could have said, but really, anything they could have said already had been. And with him seeming resigned, it appeared there was no longer a need to defend themselves.

Marinette—ever the mediator, stepped up and hugged Adrien.

“Adrien, this isn’t something you can help with. None of us can. What happens in the trial is up to the courts. And what happens to Chloe is up to her.”

Slowly, he reached up and hugged her as well. The warmth and comfort brought some limited solace in this situation. He felt lost. Out of control. Like the world was moving around him and he didn’t know where he was standing much less where he was supposed to be.

They weren’t ready to forgive Chloe. And he couldn’t force them to be. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t blame them. And it was really unfair of him to try. Especially…

“I’m sorry, Marinette.” He whispered to her.

He had tried to use her. Looking back, he had a bit of a tendency to rely on Marinette to fix things when she shouldn’t have had to. Especially when it was for Chloe’s sake. He knew plenty of times Chloe had done things…but he always seemed to overlook how hurt Marinette was because of it, simply due to how well she always appeared afterwards. She was strong and confident, but also a good listener and willing to forgive. It was like nothing really brought her down.

It was due to this that Marinette was often the one he turned to whenever things happened. Because she would listen. She would understand. And she would always try to help, regardless of her position.

In this light…he may have over relied on her too much.

“I wasn’t fair to you.” He admitted. “I just saw Chloe hurting and only thought about how to fix things for her. I didn’t consider your feelings.” He hugged her more strongly. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t speak. But she squeezed him back.

He felt another body press against him. A quick glance showed it to be Nino.

“I’m still super mad with her. And I don’t like how you tried to push us to defend her after what she did. But I get that she’s your friend and you care about her. I’d do the same if it were you in her place.” He gave a small laugh. “Not that I think you ever would, of course.”

Adrien smiled back. “Thanks.”

This…this felt much better.

Things weren’t okay right now. He still wanted to help Chloe. His classmates were still hurt. People were still angry. Hawk Moth was still out there.

But whatever happened...in this moment, he felt they could make it.

#ml fic #chloe salt #miracle queen #marinette dupain cheng #marinette defense squad #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #adrien salt

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waezi2 · 4 years ago

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Re-reading Yu-Gi-Oh (part 1)

So... I bitch a lot about Yu-Gi-Oh. When I don’t complain about it online and accuse it of scamming kid me, I ridicule the story and the many holes in the game rules.

But I actually used to love this manga with a burning passion. I bought it because I was fixated with the cards, but instead I got traumatized. In an awesome way.

So I decided to re-read the manga about the possibly best known TCG game in the world and see how it started, how it evolved, and if the story still holds up.

So, I’m reading chapter 1, and we have to talk about the art.

The art style at the beginning was chunky and sometimes downright awkward. But it was still very enjoyable. The characters were very expressive and the tone of the style could swing quickly from wacky and rubberhose like to eerie and brooding depending on the situation. It makes you forgive odd-looking legs and hands that becomes massive. It is clear that it is someone’s first project.

So, this is Yugi. Possibly the cutest and meekest punk kid who ever lived. Yugi is not an outdoor person, so he spends most of his recesses inside the classroom. He brings a ton of games to school, hoping that someone might wanna play with him, but all of his classmates prefer to go outside and do stuff like basketball. And being a short teenager who practically looks like a little boy means he is not a desirable team mate in any ball game.

This is totally just a theory, but I think Yugi’s signature punk hairstyle is his way of trying to look a bit more edgy to try do something about his cute appearance.

... Yeah, it’s not working. He still looks like a fricking Gummibear.

As Yugi is minding his own business, we meet two familiar faces.

... their names are actually Jounouchi and and Honda, but most people know them by their American names, so I will just refer to them as Joey and Tristan.

It’s so odd to see their old designs. Especially Joey since his hair is not as big and square like as it is today. And what the fuck is up with Tristan’s face?!

Anyways, while Yugi decides to play with the most valuable game in his collection, Joey and Tristan decides to mess with him. They make an interesting bully duo where Tristan is more loud and is clearly having more fun bothering Yugi who is too short to put up a fight while Joey seems more stoic and is almost annoyed by Yugi for being a pushover. He even tells Yugi to be a man about it and at least try and take the game back from him by force. So while Tristian just enjoys picking on Yugi for the heck of it, Joey seems to sincerely dislike Yugi.

Luckily, Yugi doesn’t have trouble with bullies as such since he is friends with Tea who is so tough that she actually intimidate Joey and Tristan with sheer attitude. That’s actually impressive.

... A shame she is most of the time just the damsel in distress.

Tea is the only person in class who hangs out with Yugi since they have been friends since kindergarten. And she doesn’t mind staying inside at all since a ton of the guys are jerks who only wanna play basketball with the girls since it gives them an opportunity to look up their skirts.

Yeah, there is a lot of that in this manga. Most of the males in this series are kinda horny. the humor often relies on it, which downright creepy at times.

Even Yugi finds basketball more appealing now that he knows about the skirt-looking.

Lewd panty-shot aside, I think it is a nice detail that Yugi is as pathetic as the rest of the dudes in school, he probably just doesn’t have the courage to try get a look. It makes him less of a pure hero.

Altight, let’s stop talking about Yugi being a closet creep:/

Yugi shows Tea what his greatest treasure is: A LITTERAL treasure.

Yep, this is the famous Millennium Puzzle, practically the mascot of the series. It’s an ancient puzzle found in an pyramid that Yugi got from his grandfather who runs a game store. The puzzle is extremely valuable, both because it is from ancient Egypt and it is made of gold.

... And Yugi brings it to school where Tristan and Joey pushes him around...

Yugi has been struggling with the puzzle for eight years despite being a game nerd. Even though it is a blow to his not that big ego, he keeps trying to solve it since the box says that if he will be granted a wish if he manage to solve the puzzle.

Meanwhile, Joey and Tristan makes the fatal mistake of talking about picking on Yugi while Ushio is close enough to hear it. He is the school’s hall monitor and rumor has it that he is downright psychotic and is feared by most of the students. Heck, some of the teachers are uncomfortable being near him.

And this guy has decided to become Yugi’s bodyguard, something poor Yugi doesn’t take serious when Ushio tells him that.

Joey and Tristan are unaware how screwed they are as they keep having their fun bothering Yugi without our hero knowing it. Joey managed to steal a piece from the puzzle box before Tea interrupted, and Joey decides to throw the piece in the school’s swimming pool so that the puzzle becomes worthless as it can no longer be solved. I gotta say, that is pretty twisted and surprisingly sneaky of a teen bully. It’s downright creepy.

Speaking of creepy...

This is Yugi’s grandfather Sugoroku. He runs the game shop that Yugi lives in and is a living encyclopedia when it comes to games of all sorts.

And he can’t just tell Tea that she has grown. He HAS to mention her breasts as well. Da fuck is up with all the sex talk and panty shots in this series?! Does Kazuki Takahashi(the author) have some sort of issues?!

Yugi’s grandfather notices that Yugi is STILL trying to solve the ancient puzzle and warns Yugi that the puzzle is supposedly cursed. That the archeologist and his team died mysteriously shortly after finding the puzzle and the last one to kick the bucket said something about a “shadow game” with his dying breath.

That however makes Yugi even more determent to solve the puzzle. If it really is magical then chances are that he will be granted a wish by completing the puzzle.

Personally, I would call the nearest museum and sell the dang thing before it could kill me with it’s insane cursed magic.

Speaking of insane, Yugi realizes that he should have taken Ushio serious when he said he would be his bodyguard.

Yep, the SOB has dragged Joey and Tristan behind the school building and kicked their asses through and through. Tristan is in so much pain that he is barely conscious and Joey is so pummeled that all he can do is watch as Yugi shows how surprisingly brave he is as he demands that Ushio leaves them alone, even refer to them as his friends and that they were just trying to make him a man.

Yeah, picking on someone because they are too timid and demanding that they fight you despite knowing that they hat violence is the right way to make someone a man. Hip hooray for toxic masculinity!

Yugi defending Joey and Tristan results in him getting a beating as well.

One of the interesting things about early Yu-Gi-Oh is the raw and ugly violence. We talking dirty violence where people get kneed in the chest and kicked while they lie down. Not just off-screen, we witness our heroes be pummeled, making the series a bit more gritty and frightening. And this series is not for those with a weak stomach.

Joey is stunned, partly because Yugi defends him, but way more of the short spiky-haired kid’s courage. But Yugi is anything but afraid. After all, he refused to fight Joey, but he still tried to get the puzzle back(not successfully, but he made an effort instead of just squirming).

After Ushio finished kicking poor Yugi’s ass, he tells him to bring him money as “payment” for his “bodyguard service.” And we talking 200000 yen, that’s a lot of dough.

Ushio even pulls a god damn knife(!), just to show how fucking crazy he is!

Yugi goes home to see if he has money enough to pay Ushio, but he only has 1656 yen. In frustration, Yugi decides to solve his unsolvable puzzle, just to think of something else than the brute with a knife who is waiting for him at school.

But what do you know? Yugi finally get the hang of it. He sees that some of the pieces just needs to be rotated differently and he finish it in a couple of minutes.

... Or he WOULD have. He finally sees that one of the pieces are missing, breaking his heart and making his awful day even worse.

But Grandpa has the last piece. He tells Yugi that one of his friends from school had found it and asked him to give it to Yugi. And that he was soaked despite it not raining.

As Yugi is happy about being able to finish the puzzle and returns to his room, his grandpa thinks about that the boy was Joey and that he asked him not to tell Yugi it was him that came with the puzzle piece. Joey also told him about Ushio blackmailing Yugi, so Grandpa secretly puts money in Yugi’s schoolbag so he won’t get in trouble.

And this is where it get’s freaky.

Yep, here it is. the iconic moment Yugi gets blessed by the puzzle so that he can turn into the split personality we refer to as Yami which is Japanese for “Dark”.

Yugi then calls Ushio and tells him to meet him outside school at midnight.

Ushio is surprised as he sees that Yugi is wearing some sort of costume and that he looks way more cocky than before.

Yugi tells Ushio that he has the money he demands, but he has twice the amount. Fricking 400000 yen!

But Yugi only “owes” 200000 to Ushio, so he suggest that they play about them in a dark and twisted game.

Yugi and Ushio take turns stabbing the stack of money placed on their hand. They have to stab hard enough to take more than one single bill. The winner is the guy with most yen bills.

As they play, Ushio seems to be winning... but when it is his turn, he can feel that his hand is way too eager to stab.

This is not just a weird-ass game. This is a “shadow game”, a game that shows your true nature. Ushio’s greed is now collected in his hand, and he so desperately want to win the game that he can’t control it. He realizes that if he stabs, he won’t be able to control his strength and he will penetrate his own hand. Ushio has to either A) give up and keep his hand or B) win the game with one hand less.

Ushio picks C.

Ushio tries to kill Yugi, but that was a mistake. The puzzle has made him super human and he leaps from the ground, evading the knife.

And cheating in a shadow game is a big no-go as the host of the game has authority to punish you.

Yami Yugi curses Ushio with “Illusion of Greed”, meaning he will be doomed to live in an imaginary world where he sees nothing but money everywhere.

Next morning, he is still outside the schoolyard like a drooling idiot who yells about all of his imaginary money.

Yugi has no memory of what happened but is glad he no longer has to be worried of Ushio who is a harmless nutcase. Not only that, he has finally finished his puzzle... and Joey offers him his friendship.

And that was the start of the horror manga turned card game commercial. It has a lot of charm, is very eerie and I think I prefer Yami Yugi’s first look that is more child like. making him look downright creepy.

This retrospective will continue ASAP.

Till then, I’m Waezi2, and thanks for wasting time with me.

#Yu-Gi-Oh #yugioh #yugi moto #joey wheeler #katsuya jonouchi #honda hitomi #anzu mazaki #tea gardner #tristan taylor #yami yugi #atem #manga

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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years ago

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we could be Dreamers - Prologue

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x GN!Reader

Rating: T

Summary: How this world came to be

Word count: 1,671

A/N: Hiii friends 🤗 soo there’s not really a lot of plot or Marcus Moreno :( here, but consider this a prologue/worldbuilding for a Marcus Moreno x reader fic I may eventually write lol. I’m really interested in how this universe got from The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl to We Can Be Heroes, because like. Sharkboy and Lavagirl were literally just some kid’s imaginary friends that somehow magically became real, so what does that mean for the other Heroics? Where did they come from?? So I kinda wanted to write something that would make you Think :) and explore the ramifications of such a transformed universe.

Consider my previous Marcus Moreno fic a prelude to this prologue 💗

It was a little unnerving sometimes, being in a room with so much power. No matter that this particular training arena at Heroics Headquarters was at least the size of an American football field- when all of the Heroics are gathered in the same confined space, focused on a single purpose, you can feel it. Like their power prances tauntingly in the corner of your eye, slipping away when you try to look directly at it. Like it winds through the air, worming its way into your veins, so your very blood breathes at you to run, run, run.

Not all of the individual Heroics gave off such uncanny vibes; some were simply ordinary people with extraordinary abilities. Techo-No, for instance, and his gift for creating fantastical gadgets. The implications of his works relevant to the world at large could be worrying, but he had limits. He was just a man. Determined, and creative (even more so with his son throwing ideas at him), but ultimately human.

Not like those with powers who’d been Dreamed.

Take Sharkboy. The temper for which he’d been infamous in his youth had cooled, but when he snapped, he did so literally- blade-sharp teeth an audible clash when he bared them in a ringing snarl. Any water in the room would roil and froth- but the most hair-raising sight was his eyes, tinged with the unreadable, abyssal blackness of his namesake. Focused with a predator’s calculation on the object of his fury. (It made you think that, ironically, his temper had cooled too much- concentrated into something as icy and merciless as the depths of the sea. Just as well his wife was a lava goddess).

It was well-documented that Sharkboy could influence his oceanic kin, seeing as he was half-shark himself. Some marine biologists postulated- in low voices- that fluctuation in his emotions could unknowingly influence shark activity no matter how far from the sea he was. But nobody at Heroics Headquarters had ever dared suggest attempting a study.

That you knew of, anyway. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was a classified government branch somewhere which dealt solely with more insidious studies of the Heroics. Their weaknesses. Ways to defeat them.

Just in case.

Sharkboy and his emotions had stabilized as his Dreamer matured, but not all Dreamers were so invested in the well-being of their creations, or of the world they inhabited and could inadvertently affect. It was suspected that not all Dreamers knew that they had Dreamed at all, that they unintentionally brought Dreams into being far from where they were located and simply never became aware. This resulted in some Dreamed individuals being...unstable. Incomplete, really. Brought forth from a child’s mind, a young person who didn’t yet fully grasp the complexities of existing in this world, or indeed, the intricacies of what made one human at all.

Dreamers were children, more often than not. Their imaginative abilities generally far outstripped those of adults, worn down as they were with the grind of building a real life. The younger the person, the more time and creativity they maintained. The fewer methods they possessed to process their struggles which were grounded in reality, and not their imaginations.

Despite the years that have passed, nobody quite knows what happened to lead up to the Incident. How a single young boy had imagined so powerfully that it had warped reality; how his imaginings had given him the ability to design the universe at will.

The Daydreamer.

Max, as he later insisted on being called. An almost disturbingly innocuous name for a boy who had changed the world. Who had all but envisioned himself into having terrific powers- and enabled others to do the same.

In the years following the Incident, Sharkboy and Lavagirl continued to visit him in secret (Later, scientists realized that this why they recorded occasional, inexplicable disturbances in seismic and marine activity). But it wasn’t long before a larger threat to the entire Earth appeared- and so did they. To defend the place which they declared to be their new home. Though they had been willed into existence to protect Planet Drool, as Max determined to relinquish his daydreaming abilities and by extension, his dreamworld, so did the planet and its life diminish. Their presence there was no longer required, they’d explained. But earth could still benefit from their protection- especially after the reality of the threat came to light.

Someone else had Dreamed.

It wasn’t clear who, or how, or what their intentions had been. But once it had been said, everyone was forced to acknowledge the truth of it- or at least, admit that there was no other explanation. The villain’s origins were not terrestrial in any previously established sense.

Anyone who had ever met a child could have a predicted it. Too many young people ended up feeling outcast, overlooked, by both their peers and adults in their lives. It should have been obvious from the way they whispered his name. Not Max- a moniker far too average and relatable- but what they reverently regarded as his true title. The Daydreamer. A near-holy figure who had changed the game for youths everywhere. Now they had a way to combat those who plagued them. A way to create or become the superheroes who previously only existed in comic books and TV shows.

Or some did, anyway. Individuals with the strength of will and heart to Dream weren’t rare, but they weren’t quite common, either.

The only truly neutral positive of the Dreamer evolution was that governments everywhere suddenly accepted the need for increased mental health resources. Designed to increase healthy socialization for all ages and give young people ways to process and communicate their emotional needs, such programs were approved seemingly overnight in schools from elementary to university aged. “Small town life” flourished, and many city quarters and apartment buildings took to implementing “community builders” or, less charmingly, “social facilitators”- positions designed to create cohesive areas of living and minimize the kind of isolation and negative feelings that could leave someone to Dream of improving their life.

Nowadays, not all super-powered individuals were Dreamed. The second generation of Heroics was a testament to that. As if the universe itself had reckoned with the self-inception of the Dreamers, and seen fit to provide reality-warping countermeasures of its own.

Less than a year after the Incident, babies with...unique qualities began to be born. Few and far between, it seemed at first. Whispered reports swept from far corners of the globe, a phone tree branching from frantic parents to anyone who could provide even the slightest bit of reassurance. It seemed like doctors everywhere were swapping glances, no one willing to admit what was happening- until a second Villain appeared.

Every incident report said the same thing: a baby started crying, and then the hostages were saved by a power outage. A wash of sparks that darkened half the city.

Webbed with red lightning.

You sneak a look at the fully grown Heroic now, the long braids of her ponytail slipping over the shoulder of her characteristic red training outfit. Red Lightning Fury flexes her fingers as she listens to the head trainer explain today’s exercise- the usual sort of ‘heroes versus villains’ battles, with you and your fellow specialists assisting as villains- but judging by the lack of the smell of ozone, she isn’t yet using her powers. Blinding Fast, on the other hand, appears to fritz in place every few seconds, and you guess he’s running invisible laps to pass the time. It’s hard to tell if that’s what’s causing Lavagirl’s hair to tendril like neon pink smoke even though she’s standing still; usually the hypnotic heat shimmer of her lava flow causes the effect naturally.

You stretch in place while team arrangements are announced. As the majority of the Heroics filter into the stands to wait for their match, the buzzing, writhing presence of their power fades, and you can breathe more easily.

A figure flickers into being beside you, and you jump. “Jeez, Visi! How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Having anticipated your reaction from the countless previous times she’s snuck up on you anyway, Invisigirl laughs. “You think you’d be used to it by now.” Your closest Heroic friend grins at you, all pearly teeth against smooth brown skin.

And she’s right, which is why you were so disgruntled. Having been caught unawares too many times by the invisible hero’s silent movements, you had once asked her to give you lessons. Her instruction had improved your own stealth immensely, and now that you knew what kind of signs to listen for, her attempts at startling you didn’t work nearly as often as they had. But- “It’s hard to focus on anything with all of your powers clogging up the air,” you grumble. The birthed heroes understood what you meant- they felt it too, the nagging hiss of something other in the Dreamed heroes’ energy.

Across the arena, it looks like Miracle Guy and Marcus Moreno are waiting to be your opponents. Interesting. Miracle Guy, with his Dreamed up Superman-like abilities, was the only one who had a way of seeing Invisigirl. What it was precisely, you couldn’t recall. You make a mental note to ask Visi later.

Marcus, however, telekinesis aside, is clearly meant to be the counter to your strengths. The two men are discussing intently, but as if feeling your assessing stare, Marcus glances over. He lifts his eyebrows at you in playful challenge, a hint of a smile quirking his shapely lips before he’s pursing them at his duel-mate again.

Suppressing the pleased flutter down your spine, you turn your attention to the task ahead as Invisigirl dips her head toward you. Planning something clever, you realize, intrigued by the glint in her eye. “Let’s talk strategy.”

When the starting bell rings, your partner vanishes, and your smile curves as sharp and gleaming as the blade in your hand.

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno fic #wcbh fic #wcbh #we can be heroes fic #we can be heroes #pedro pascal characters #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #let me know what you think!!!#🙈🙈🙈#and if anyone wants to help me dream up a plot for this...i have Some Thoughts

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syms-things-5 · 4 years ago

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Clear The Area - Chapter Fourteen

Previous Chapter HERE

Warnings: Language, NSFW Language

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

Note: Apologies, this is a repost from yesterday for reasons I won’t go into now. i hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Fourteen

Sarah jostled with the mail as she entered their building, trying hard not to knock over the newest fresh plant currently adorning the entrance. They usually took it in turns to handle the post and whatever parcels the Supervisor had signed for that day but she was starting to feel a little short-changed as Shanna had consistently more post coming her way these days. Sarah realised she needed to get out more. Carting everything up the stairs was starting to become its own workout. Today’s treasures involved two Nasty Gal packages, a package from Pottery Barn, a box from Amazon, and what appeared to be a free sample of a Louis Vuitton fragrance. Sarah might just keep that last one to herself.

Jocelyn had sent another care package of sorts her way but it only served to remind Sarah that she had not called her folks in over a week. Ever since the accident, Jocelyn had been so consumed with worry that she had taken to sending Sarah articles ripped form magazines and gift cards for relaxation therapies. Despite Sarah’s many protests to the contrary, Jocelyn was sure Sarah was struggling with some form of undiagnosed PTSD. She’d read about it in a magazine. “If affects upwards of half a million American every year, honey.”

After successfully dodging the neighbour’s schnauzer, she eventually reached their floor and was just about to turn her key in the lock when the door swung wide open. Before she had time to react, she was brought face to face with a stressed-out Shanna, hair dripping wet from a shower. Not her favourite Shanna it had to be said. Not even in the Top Ten.

She grabbed Sarah by both shoulders. “I don’t know what I’m going to wear, Sarah! I’ve got less than an hour!”

“And hello to you, too!” Sarah smiled broadly, almost comically so, before Shanna lowered her head in embarrassment and moved out of the way so Sarah could physically get into her own home. She held the packages up. “Maybe there is something in here?”

Shanna shook her head. “No, they’re more summery. More formal.” She’d started fluttering around Sarah in a panic. “Do you still have that leather midi skirt? Do you think I could fit into it?”

“Uhh yeh it’s in the back of my closet somewhere.” she remembered. “Might be a bit warm, though? What are you gonna wear with it?”

“Well it’s a punky kind of bar, think it has live music and stuff so I thought maybe that Rolling Stones t-shirt and the maroon boots? Keep my hair down and casual?”

“So basically all of my clothes?” Sarah retorted. Shanna pressed her hands together in prayer and gave her the best pitiful smile she could manage, one she knew Sarah couldn’t resist. Shanna seemed to genuinely like this guy and if this guy was as charming and as smart as she told her he was, Sarah was sure she would like him, too. Hell, he’d be best friends with Scott and Chris in no time so long as he enjoyed football, Sam Adams, and didn’t put points on Shanna’s licence.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll see what I can pull together. Do you wanna borrow that heart necklace of mine? If you’re wearing your hair down, it’s probably best you avoid wearing earrings unless you want me to cut you out of them again.” Sarah shouted as she walked into her room unaware that Shanna had followed her closely behind.

“Oh god I hadn’t even thought that far. You know what, I might just cancel. This is just too much right now and I’m not even sure if he really likes me as anything more than a friend.” She feigned a dramatic flop onto Sarah’s bed, one arm landing across her forehead. Sarah delved through her closet to locate the desired items. If Shanna was threatening to cancel the date already, it must be serious.

“How many of you are going to this club?” Sarah asked, emerging from the closet doorway.

“Don’t know. Think three or four from my department and another couple from his?” she responded, hopelessness evident in her voice. Shanna never did well with vagueness where guys were concerned; everything had to be black and white with her.

“Come on, you’ve still got time.” Sarah encouraged as she carried some clothes and a couple of pairs of boots towards the bed. “Dry your hair and we’ll figure this out, OK?”

“Have I told you how much I love you lately?” Shanna pouted and Sarah tried to shrug off the pit growing in her stomach from her words. Shanna used every ounce of energy she could muster to get up and drag herself back into the bathroom leaving Sarah shaking her head.

It was only a rare occasion when Shanna took less time getting ready in the bathroom. Sarah had fond memories of shouting through the door back when they were at college and deciding to move in together required a complete 180 degree shift in her expectations. Still, in less than half an hour, here she emerged fully dressed, primer and foundation applied, and hair dried accordingly. It was a miracle of epic proportions and if she hadn’t shoved some false eyelashes into Sarah’s hand, Sarah would have snapped a photograph to send to the family as evidence that their little girl was growing up.

Thanks to her professional, steady hand, Sarah was always the eyelash-fixer among their group. While fixing a couple of lashes to the corners of her eyes, Sarah’s phone buzzed. It buzzed a couple more times in quick succession and she would have managed to ignore it had it not been for Shanna’a roving eye.

“Looks like someone wants you.” she murmured, trying her hardest not to move as Sarah held the glued lash in place with some tweezers.

“It’ll just be Audrey probably.” Sarah responded in no rush to check for herself, keeping a firm hold on what she was doing.

Shanna tried glancing to her side one more time to catch who it was but couldn’t quite make it out. It buzzed again. “I’d hate for you to miss out on a date with Greg on account of helping piece my pathetic love life together. Oooh maybe we could double-date!”

Shanna’s exclaim nearly caused Sarah to lose her grip on the tweezers but a sharp intake of breath convinced Shanna to give up the inquisition. “Sorry. Sorry.” she held her hands up as an apology before feeling Sarah’s hands relax as she moved across to the other eye.

Sarah was pleased to see Shanna eventually leave their apartment. Not because she wanted the peace particularly but just because it was nice to see her get excited over a guy that wasn’t Ben. She looked gorgeous, too. Sarah was quite proud of her work. If it wasn’t to be a proper date, it definitely would be after tonight. Robbie would be an absolute fool to miss out.

It was only when she slumped dow onto the couch and spent the next hour or so flicking through television channels that she remembered her phone had buzzed earlier on. She reluctantly peeled herself off the sofa and retrieved it from where it had originally landed on her bedside table. Honestly, it was like Shanna had taught her nothing.

From just two messages, Chris had attempted some mild flirtation with her before asking her if she knew what in God’s Name Penhaligon’s was.

Sarah 8.19pm: Perfume I think. Pretty old school brand. Why?

Chris 8.23pm: Mom wants it for her birthday. Never heard of it before. Scott thought it might be some kind of scarf??

She googled the name to make sure. Last thing she wanted was to end up ruining Lisa’s birthday celebrations with a present she absolutely did not want. Her birthday was something she took with increasing seriousness as each year passed by and her children and grandchildren grew older in front of her eyes. There was always a party of sorts, a massive cake, perhaps a theme, and a “suggestion list” for possible gifts. Well, they say “suggestion” but rarely did anyone dare deviate from “the list”. Sarah hadn’t yet considered buying a present but if Chris was already looking, she would no doubt need to catch up.

Sarah 8.34pm: Yep, pretty certain it’s a perfume. Pretty pricey. Good shout.

Sarah started scanning through her phone as another couple of messages caught her eye, some she had accidentally missed from earlier in the day. One from Audrey. One from Greg that she was not expecting.

Greg 7.02pm: Great news! 29th is set up. All you need to do is say the word! Don’t know how long I can hold the spot open so let me know as soon as you can. Have a great evening x

It took her a moment to register what he was talking about.

Chris 8.37pm: Cool THX What are you wearing??

Sarah stared down at the phone. She felt light-headed. There was far too much going on for this time of the day. She wiped at her forehead with her sweater sleeve and took a deep breath.

Sarah 8.41pm: You wouldn’t be interested lol

Chris 8.42pm: try me..........

He had a surprising habit these days of cheering her up.

Sarah 8.46pm: Nah I look a mess. Get out while you can.

Her phone started ringing almost as soon as she’d pressed ‘send’, Chris’ name flashing on her screen. She contemplated not answering now that her mood had taken a turn but she knew he would work out something was wrong and immediately dive over.

“Hey,” she answered, trying for a jovial tone but coming up just south of delirious.

“Hey you,” he smiled through the phone, happy to hear her voice. “In all the years I have known you, Bernette, not once would I describe you as looking like a mess.”

She laughed down the line. She made the right decision.

“...you are far too cute to ever be a mess. Do you know that? Like, I can already picture you with your sweats on, your hair tied up, soft skin...” he trailed off with a low sigh that she was sure was filthier than he intended it to be. “Man, that really does something to me.”

“You really know how to charm a girl. Have you figured this Penhaligon’s thing out yet? Was I right?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

She laughed again. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m not great with flirting over the phone. You should know that by now.”

“Then do it with me in person.” he proposed as if it was the easiest solution in the world. As if she wasn’t going to be distracted with thoughts of work and studies enough to not focus on him entirely. And he didn’t deserve to be second best.

It would have been all too easy to allow him to come over. Forget about overthinking things again. There truly was no one better at making her feel good about herself these days. Like, honest, through-the-bone good about herself, whatever that entailed. Goosebumps raised on her skin at the thought.

“I’m pretty whacked to be honest and...”

“What’s going on? Are you feeling alright?” he asked, concern evident in his tone. Whatever he had been pottering about with in the background had stopped all of a sudden.

“Yes! Yeh, I’m fine. Just...I dunno, boring. Plus, it’s Friday night! You should be out with the guys or whatever. Shan said Scott is having issues with Zach again. Is he OK?”

He laughed at her second lame attempt to deflect. He knew something was going on and he knew she knew he wouldn’t give up easily.

“Is Shanna there?” he asked.

“No, she went out with some friends.”

“So why don’t you ask me to come over and I’ll make you feel better than fine?”

She was lucky she was sat down or that her legs were crossed underneath her as she lounged on the couch, her back against the arm rest. His tone was causing her to feel things she shouldn’t be focussing on. What must it feel like to always be confident of your effect on people?

“Do you wanna come over?” she asked, treading lightly, not entirely anxious should he decline.

“I’ll be there in twenty.” He ended the call almost as abruptly as he had dialled it.

She remained where she sat for a moment, Greg’s text message still lighting up her screen. She wasn’t expecting for things to suddenly be so easy for her and it was strange how opening herself up to more possibilities could cause her to feel so immobile.

She would need to move at some point and as a helpless and as confused as she now felt, she knew it would look far too obvious to Chris if she bid to make herself up. She also didn’t really have the energy to do so. Lord, Chris really should have taken the out when he had the chance.

“Have I just walked into a teenage girl’s bedroom?” Chris asked, taking a look around as he entered the apartment not long afterwards. He clearly found the scene amusing although Sarah couldn’t under stand why. It was partly Shanna’s home after all. He should be used to girly mess. “What’s going on?”

“Shan has a date. I was helping her to get ready.” Sarah replied, humourously holding up the hairdryer like a trophy before dumping it back in her bedroom. “Sort of, actually. She doesn’t quite know if it’s a date date or a friend date.”

“I was told those didn’t exist.” Chris smirked, reaching for a bottle of water from her fridge.

“Well, she’s dressed up for one. Looks gorgeous.”

“I think you look gorgeous.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Chris, you don’t need to make any more effort, OK? You’re already in the apartment.”

“I think it bears repeating is all.”

He swallowed half the bottle of water before fixing her with a semi-quizzical stare. He tried to figure out what was going on as he watched her potter around the kitchen table, swiping something away into a cupboard, phone grasped in her hand. “What’s going on? You sounded weird on the phone and now you look like it as well.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” she answered far too quickly and tried to shrug it off but his body language told her he wasn’t buying it. She wasn’t sure what was bothering her more in this moment; him knowing her too well, or that he knew he knew her too well.

“OK, alright, well, it’s Friday night and I’m happy just hanging out and doing whatever but you can also talk to me as well. I’m not a monster.”

“It was her turn to look back at him, unsure of her next move or indeed his. she wondered if he was very likely regretting his decision to meet her now when twenty minutes in the opposite direction would take him to one of his favourite downtown dive bars. Instead, he rested against the side of the kitchen doorway, arms folded, a softness still present in his facial expressions. He seemed hesitant of what to say and she didn’t like the slight awkward air surrounding them. She didn’t want to venture into work-territory either.

“Do you want me to go, Sarah?”

She looked back up at him after a short spell spent staring down at her feet. “No. I don’t want you to leave. I’m just...there’s something...” she paused to re-evaluate her words. “You know what, it’s find. It’s nothing major. Of course I’m glad you’re here now.”

He pushed himself off from the counter and moved towards her, accepting of the greeting smile now covering her face, the bottle of water still in his grip. “Cool. Shall I follow your lead then, or...?”

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” she suggested, more casually than he would have liked. She didn’t know what to say to him now that all of her brain space was taken up with possibilities and wanting to call Audrey with the news. Chris hadn’t factored in watching a film but she seemed like she wanted a little peace and quiet and he had pretty much dived into the apartment as soon as she gave him the green light, eager as he was to see her without threat of Shanna walking in at any point.

“Movie sounds good.” He bobbed his head in agreement, content in their surroundings for now.

At some point towards the end of Searching, Chris quietly excused himself to go to the bathroom. Realising something was about to happen and not wanting to have to explain it to him after he returned, Sarah put the film on pause and headed into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She had held him at an arm’s length for most of the night, the couch seeming longer somehow, but was now feeling a slight chill despite the thick sweater reaching midway down her thighs. He would no doubt have been cosy to snuggle up to but she was still pondering Greg’s message and couldn’t concentrate on much else.

Her demeanour hadn’t gone unnoticed by Chris. A couple of times he caught the glare from her phone screen illuminating her face from below and wondered who had gotten her attention this evening. He stopped himself from making an obvious joke and was disappointed that she hadn’t noticed him glance across at her several times during the movie. He wasn’t much interested in watching it. Telling the truth, he’d seen it via a DVD screener Matt had sent him months earlier but she’d mentioned she was looking forward to watching it and in all honesty, he had figured they would curl up together and he would have still gotten something out of it.

“Chris? Do you want a cup of tea?” she hollered from the kitchen doorway. No response for what seemed to be a long, long minute. She switched the kettle off and began pouring him one anyway. She could always drink two if he didn’t want it.

“Chris?” she shouted again.

She walked into the lounge to place the cups down and clocked the bathroom door ajar and seemingly empty. Maybe he left without telling her. In all fairness, she wouldn’t have been surprised or annoyed. She’d barely given him a moment of attention for the last two hours.

She wandered slowly down the hallway first passing Shanna’s bedroom before reaching her own and finding him stretched out across the bottom of her bed. She giggled and leaned on the side of the doorway. He looked rather comfortable. A little too comfortable. Maybe he wanted some company?

“What are you up to, Evans?”

He tilted his head up to find her standing there. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to notice I was gone.” He leaned up further and rested on one arm to fully take sight of her. His eyes appeared a little dopey, a thing that always seemed to give away his nefarious intentions. From the angle he was now lying in, the size of his bicep looked ridiculous. It could not have been an accidental move and she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t working for her.

“Are you bored? You can absolutely go if you have a better offer, I promise I won’t mind.” she offered by way of an apology but he stayed looking at her, not moving or responding to her offer. Being caught under his glare like this was unnerving to say the least. His hair looked a little messy from where he had been lying down yet he still made zero effort to move at all.

“I’m not bored.” He finally spoke, sincerity lacing his voice. “Are you? You seem distracted tonight.”

She didn’t know how to respond except to say he was right and to apologise again. She hadn’t figured out what to say to Greg yet so explaining her thought process to Chris wasn’t going to get her very far. It was times like this, when he was looking at her like that, that she wished she had the confidence to try and shut him up the old-fashioned way.

“Come here...” It was barely a whisper and she would have doubted he had spoken at all if it wasn’t for the hand he was now holding out towards her. He didn’t blink once.

She couldn’t refuse him and moved slowly to stand in the middle of his now-parted legs hanging off the end of the bed as he sat up. She watched as he closed his eyes when he felt her fingers smooth through his hair. There was something so calming about her touch, the deliberate graze of her nails sending little shocks down his spine. He wasn’t normally fussed by a woman playing with his hair even if occasionally he liked it when they pulled on it but something about her slow, tender touch was unlike anything he had felt before.

He moved his hands to the side of her thighs before pulling her legs down to either side of him. “I love looking at you from here.” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist making sure she couldn’t get away from him.

She moved in to kiss him, softly at first before she felt his tongue glide along her bottom lip, a wordless request for her to open up. He paused for a second, taking her in while she caught her breath before kissing her deeper than before. She pulled his t-shirt up from the hem and he reached up over his back to grab it and whip it off in record time. Not one of his proudest moments, it caught on his watch as he tried and failed to fling it to the side of them and he made a mental note to try that move again when he felt her chuckle against the side of his neck. He didn’t much mind being a dork in front of her. She knew he wasn’t as cool as he made himself out to be.

His hands found their way into her hair as he caressed the strands out of her face. He loved how silky it felt between his fingers and how faintly it smelled of coconut, her signature smell by now. Her hands gripped his wrists before slowly moving up his biceps and grasping at his shoulders while he pulled her down onto him to allow her to feel how hard he was becoming from her touch. He wanted to know she was only thinking about him. She felt him push up into her core and arousing her even more. His breaths were getting shorter while his hands moved down her sides in an attempt to hook into her leggings and drag them down and off her body. She moved a hand away from his shoulders to help him with his mission but a tapping sound soon broke her from her reverie.

“Wait.” she was still holding on to his arms to steady herself until things went quiet and his hands froze on her waist. Their breathing levelled out quickly and Chris threw her a confused look. “Do you hear something?”

“What?” He gasped. “No, nothing.” He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her back down to kiss him hard. His hands firmly gripped her ass until she was putting pressure back where he wanted it. She quickly forgot what she was thinking about while he moved her slowly along his growing length. He moved one hand up her side, dragging her sweater up with it so his fingers could finally feel her skin underneath. Her hands were pushing down on his chest a bit harder and in a moment that took her by total surprised he quickly flipped them over so she was lying underneath him, completely encased by his strong forearms.

Kissing her was so easy he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it sooner. Her lips were soft, some of the softest her had ever touched. He figured she kissed like she wanted to be kissed, and he wanted to kiss her back like no boy had ever kissed her before. It was soft and hot and breathy and turning him on immensely. Neither was trying to win a battle but rather seeking and enjoying their closeness, the sharing of this one single sensation, outside world be damned.

The prospect of being uninterrupted was giving him all kinds of ideas. Her breathing was hot against his skin and he knew she was in the zone with him. They’d never particularly been slow and up until this point, he hadn’t much minded but he knew there was some part of her she was holding back and honestly, it was thrilling to him that he was determined to figure her out.

Pinning her underneath, one hand reached down and grazed the inside of her thigh. A little more pressure just over her clit caused her breath to hitch with a sudden squeak ever so slightly until they smiled back into their kiss, tongues massaging together. Honestly, he could carry on doing this for hours if he knew for sure there would definitely be another time they had this opportunity.

She opened her eyes to find him resting so close above her and evidently relishing the way she was lightly tickling the back of his neck with her fingers. Another languid kiss followed before he caught the side of her neck between his teeth and pushed himself against her core, her wetness increasingly apparent to him. She was growing accustomed to his need to tease her like this that she almost missed the scraping sound that had returned, only this time it was louder and sounded like it was coming from just down her hallway. She would have loved nothing more than to continue focussing on the hot breath now ghosting across her neck and shoulders but, panicking, she grudgingly pushed him off her.

“Fuck, what is that?”

Helpless and slightly dazed, all he could do was watch her get up from the bed to stand by the door. With an ear close to the gap, she listened out for another sound. Quieter than before, she swore she heard what sounded like shuffling followed by something being dropped on the ground.

Spying him about to protest, she shook her head. “Nope. Nope, that’s definitely something.” She proceeded to tiptoe out of her room and down the hall towards the kitchen, her bare feet treading ever so lightly and managing to dodge the one creaky floorboard. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find but felt a brief surge of confidence knowing the vision of Captain America might alarm whoever was attempting to break in to her home and presumably try to murder them both. He was 6 foot and built like a tank, he could absolutely save them both if push came to shove.

Of course, no one was there that she could immediately see. Maybe something had fallen off the wall instead, or perhaps had been knocked over by a strong breeze coming in via the open window in the lounge? Maybe she was hearing things after all or maybe it was a burglar but they got startled and ran away when they heard footsteps inside. Maybe it was just their neighbour moving around next door but it sounded a little too close for that. She resorted to the only thing she could think of in that moment and picked up a spatula just in case.

Chris was reluctantly putting his t-shirt back on when he followed quietly behind her, shaking his leg to relieve some of the tension in his boxers. Something banged again but this time she was sure it was coming from outside of her front door. He could now hear it as well but wasn’t entirely sure what she was hoping to accomplish with a plastic spatula in her hand.

She held her finger up to her lips to stop him from making any noise and peered through the peephole. She couldn’t see anything. Gingerly, she decided to open the door and jumped backwards when there, on the ground hunched up and leaning against the door frame, was a rathe intoxicated Shanna. Her bag had been emptied in a hurry like she’d been trying to locate her keys, and her coat was falling off her shoulders. She was half-asleep.

Chris snorted from somewhere close behind Sarah unable to contain himself, instantly familiar with the view in front of him. Sarah exhaled with some kind of relief that they were safe from a mass-murderer.

“I don’t believe it...” she spoken quietly.

“I do!” Chris could barely stop the laughter coming out now.

She and Chris moved to help her into the apartment, each grabbing her under one arm. Chris bared the majority of her weight while Sarah carried her bag and as a many contents as she could find. They managed to manoeuvre her into her bedroom where she promptly fell forward, head first, onto her bed,

“Fuckin’ waster,” he laughed heartily before Sarah punched his arm to stop him from waking her. the room fell silent for a moment before the unmistakeable sound of Shan snoring took over. Chris closed the door behind them before following Sarah to the kitchen where she collected the remaining items that had fallen out of her bag. Picking up her phone, she checked for scratches.

“Well at least she didn’t lose it this time,” she held up the mobile to him but noticed he couldn’t stop grinning. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” he shook his head. “I just wish I’d taken a picture of her. Scott would have a heart attack. Always told her she couldn’t handle her drink!”

“i don’t know how you’d explain getting hold of a photo of her.”

“Oh yeh, good point.” he chuckled in reponse. They regarded each other for a moment, Chris clearly hopeful they could pick up from where they left off.

“I think you should go,” Sarah thought apologetically.

He paused before answering, expecting her to have been joking. “Why? She’s passed out on her bed. She’ll be asleep for hours. Do you have any idea how many times I have seen her like this?”

“Have you any idea how many times I have seen her like this? She’ll wake up in the middle of the night and get into bed with me and it’d be a lot easier to handle if I didn’t have to explain to her why her bother was also there.”

“Sarah, we could throw a rave and she wouldn’t wake up.”

He was making no effort to move, instead fixing her with a stare waiting for her to recognise how ridiculous she sounded. His hands pinched at his hips and he looked a foot taller than before

“Seriously, Chris, you’re just going to have to leave.”

He took a couple of steps towards her, bare feet padding along the hard, cold floor. “I haven’t see you all week.” He moaned, hands reaching out for her hoping the memory of where they had been would be enough to convince her he should stay.

“That’s not true. You saw me the other day.” It was a weak response. Even she knew that.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

She offered back nothing. She had no response. He was disappointed and equally as frustrated with his lack of a decent comeback. He should definitely stay. He should be rocking her world right this moment and whispering filthy things into her ear but instead, all he could do was stand there and shake his head in defeat. When he made eye contact with her again, she looked somehow smaller in some way and he found it hard to continue being frustrated with her. He understood what she was doing as much as he didn’t want to.

Resigned, he shuffled towards her and embraced her in a hug. She felt him semi-hard against her tummy, briefly doubting her choices. It stirred something exciting inside her to think she could make him feel that way and mentally chastised Shanna for cock-blocking her. She felt bad for kicking him out like this.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” she whispered.

He loosely pulled away from their hug and looked down at her. He playfully raised an eyebrow and looked down at her lips, still pink and swollen, before chastely planting a kiss on them.

“I am absolutely going to hold you to that.”

Shan finally made an appearance the following morning looking like death warmed up. She’d somehow managed to remove her clothes but had a pyjama top on backwards and her hair was sticking out in all directions. She had Sarah’s expert eyeliner and a false lash smudged down one cheek.

Sarah was eating breakfast and checking the news on her phone when she saw the creature from the black lagoon emerge into her kitchen. Stifling a laugh at the sorry sight standing before her, she felt a pang of sympathy seeing every step cause her pain. Shan just pouted at her before taking a seat at the kitchen table, resting her forehead in her hands while Sarah fixed her a glass of juice and some aspirin. She took it gratefully before groaning.

“Remind me never to do shots again.” she stressed. Sarah knew it wouldn’t last, not with that Boston blood coursing through her veins. “Was Chris here last night?”

Sarah froze, a sudden ring clouding her ears. “Erm, no, he wasn’t.” She turned to put her bowl in the sink and tried to hide any blushes. She didn’t know who felt more like shit in this exact moment.

“Oh I could have sworn I heard him is all.” Shan said, more to herself than to anyone else. “God, it’s good he wasn’t. He’d have a ball game seeing me in that state. How awful was I?”

“Not very,” Sarah lied again.

“How did I even get home?” she asked, trying to piece together the flashes of memories that kept racing through her mind.

“Um, I think your friends dropped you off in a taxi and you somehow managed to get up the stairs but then I guess you couldn’t find your keys...?” Shan managed a puzzled look. “You were slumped against the front door.” She refilled her glass with juice. “You’ve been in bed for, like, twelve hours.”

“Shit, we must have started early.”

“Well it happens to the best of us.” Sarah sat next to her and pushed a loose piece of hair out of her sweaty, red face. “Your hair looks OK! I don’t think there is anything stuck in it this time.”

Shanna laughed for the first time before her head panged in revenge.

“So? Did anything happen with Robbie?” Sarah asked, a cheeky grin crossing her face. By the look on Shanna’s face, the answer was a resounding “no” but it could very well have been the alcohol-induced hurricane currently running though her head.

“Well, it was a great night regardless. You’d love the bar. I think we ran into that guy, the porter from your hospital? Pat something? Did you know he plated in a band?”

“Um, no, not at all. Wow.” Sarah was trying to picture Patrick with an array of different instruments to see which suited him before remembering the awkward time he attempted to drum Phil Collins’ ‘In The Air Tonight’ with two scalpels. “Actually, he does seem the type. I’ll have to let Audrey know. She’ll love this.”

“He sounded pretty decent. It’s not just punk music or heavy rock. I think we should all go one night. Maybe as part of Mom’s birthday week.” Shanna perked up a little, proud of the idea that had materialised in her head against all odds. “It’s amazing what people can do when they put some effort in. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Where you might be now if you just took a chance.”

Following a night of heavy drinking, Sarah wasn’t expecting such an existential conversation at this point in the day. But it was a good point regardless. She grabbed her phone from the table and typed out a message to Greg.

“Yes. I’m in.”

#chris evans #chris evans fic #evans fic #chris evans x original female character #sarah bernette #clear the area

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schrijverr · 4 years ago

Text

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 2 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: Mild homophobia, beginning and ending indicated with a *. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of the first semester he fell into a nice rhythm, wherein he spend most of his days cooped up in the library or following his courses. He and Aaron rarely spoke, but they had fallen in a sort of camaraderie where they proof read each others work and studied in silence.

Alex was lucky that he did not share any classes with former acquaintances, since he was still a spit-fire, ready to argue with anyone about his beliefs and that would come back to bite him sooner or later.

The fact that it was working, should have alerted Alex that it was going to come crashing down, but alas he was oblivious when he exited his dorm near the end of the first semester.

He was trudging over the field when he heard a posh voice preach: “Homosexuality is a sin. It is unnatural and the people who follow the Devil will meet them in Hell.”

Alex stopped and did a double take.

As much as he tried to keep out of too much trouble in public, this guy got on his nerves more then anything and it did not seem that anyone in the crowd was about to say something to the guy.

So, he hauled his poly bisexual ass over there and got ready to fight.

“Homosexuality is a lot more natural than your haircut, fuckface.” he called out loudly, not missing the relieved slump in some of the bystanders that were glad someone else had stood up first.

“Excuse me?” the fuckface in question replied.

“Same-sex couples have been identified in nearly every species on the planet, reincarnations have kept their gender identity and sexual orientation over many lives and countless of bodies. Just because you’re ignorant and stupid, doesn’t mean you can go around insulting people who are just existing.” he said.

Fuckface was starting to say something back, but Alex just steamrolled forwards: “Not to mention how redundant Hell is when we have verified reincarnations, just because someone remembered a past life and interpreted it as a vision, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

He glanced around and added: “No offense to religious people, of course, just that you cannot force your beliefs on anyone else and I’m not even going to start the argument of how cruel God would be to send his saved souls back.”

People were rallying behind him as fuckface started to look more and more uncomfortable on his little box.

“I would tell you to suck my dick, but alas I have standards.” Alex said, “Now, if you excuse me, you can shove your backwards and ignorant ideals up your ass and pray for forgiveness, since you are not really loving your neighbor as thyself.”

And with that he marched away, not caring that the guy was getting mobbed by the fired up bystanders.

He didn’t get far though, before he was stopped. A friendly freckled face smiled: “Hey man, I really appreciate that, I was about to give him a meeting with my fist, but perhaps better that I didn’t. Sorry, I’m Jonathan Lawson, call me John.”

Alex smiled back, mentally cursing himself for being caught unaware, as he replied: “Alex Hambleton, pleasure.”

Johns eyes grew wide and this was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. Trying to save himself the lie, he asked: “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, sorry, just a familiar name.” John smiled back sadly, excitement falling of his face.

“Ah, I got that before, always awkward.” Alex assured him, “I was on my way to the library.”

“Hey, me as well, I was meeting two friends there, I’m probably late.” John answered, “Here, I’ll walk with you.”

“Sorry for holding you.” Alex said, starting to walk.

“Nah, don’t worry, if you hadn’t shown up I would have fought the guy and I would have been even later.” John grinned and, by god, Alex had missed that smile, “You being there will be the best explanation anyway.”

“Glad to be of service.” Alex grinned back, a pang in his heart that he couldn't hug his Laurens.

Alex had been right that Herc and Laf would be the people waiting for John. Their eyes widened when they came into view and Alex pretended he didn’t see the small shake of the head John gave them and how sad they looked afterwards.

Instead he smiled and stuck out his hand as he introduced himself: “Alex, nice to meet ya. I am here to verify that John has a valid excuse for being late.”

And that was Johns cue to jump in: “Yes, you see there was this asshole, and when I say asshole I mean asshole.”

“Homophobic asshole.” Alex added for him.

John nodded: “And you know me, I wasn’t about to let that slide, but then before I could punch him Alex here jumped in and he verbally ripped him apart, which was glorious and probably better since now I’m not bleeding or at a police station and somewhat semi-on time.”

Lafayette and Herc looked back and forth between them, then Herc sighed and said: “Of fucking course, anyway I am Hercules, but call me Herc.”

“And I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Marquis de La Fayette, but everyone just calls me Lafayette or Laf.” Laf grinned, shaking Alexs hand excitedly.

“It’s a pleasure.” it hurt Alex to let go of Lafs hand after that.

“So are you a reincarnate?” Laf asked.

Alex forced himself to look surprised and scandalized. To ask about someones past life was similar to asking ones sexual orientation, it wasn’t that weird, but also not really a socially accepted thing to do.

“Oh, desolé, I forget you Americans don’t ask that.” Lafayette smiled innocently, but Alex had known the other long enough not to trust it.

“No problem, but no, not as far as I am aware.” he lied smoothly, feeling slightly bad at their crestfallen expressions, “But you’re French? Je parle français!”

Lafs eyes lit up as he spouted it in quick French: “Quelqu'un d'autre qui parle la plus belle langue du monde! ”

“Je dois dire que j'aime beaucoup ça, oui.” Alex grinned.

“Hey, no excluding.” John pouted.

“Don’t you speak French too, John?” Herc asked.

“I used to, but I forgot.” John grimaced.

“Anyway, as fun as this is, I still have an essay to finish and a few sources to find.” Alex changed the subject. It was fun to see his friends, but it hurt that it couldn't stay like this and every moment was a moment he could slip up.

“Same, here I’ll come with you.” John offered, “We were planning on studying already. One more person at the table won’t hurt.”

Alex hesitated, then gave in.

One day wouldn’t hurt, right?

Wrong.

One day turned into two, turned into a week and before he knew it he had befriended all three of them to the point of no return.

He wasn’t complaining, because being here with his friends, alive and in the flesh, was amazing, but it got increasingly harder not to join in whenever they made references or jokes only past him would have gotten.

Naturally he pouted about exclusion and Lafayette would give him a kiss on the cheek as he apologized and changed topics, never explaining.

It was good, especially when they found out they all took American History together next semester, which was given by Professor Washburn. Not hard to figure out who that would be, given, well given everything so far.

They were all excited of course, but Alex was more nervous than anything. Would he be able to keep his mouth shut when faced with Washington?

Seemingly he was not the only one who had put together who their teacher was. When he entered the room with John and Laf both gave the man a lazy salute while Herc nodded at him, Alex settled on looking confused hoping to avoid any conversation.

Washingtons eyes widened and John said: “Hey, Alex, save me a seat, I wanna talk to the prof for a sec.”

“Yeah, me too.” Laf added.

Herc and Alex didn’t ask questions, just waved them off. Alex watched closely as his two friends greeted Washington. The man grinned broadly and he clasped both on their shoulders, sending a pang of longing and jealousy through Alex, before it was replaced by fear as Washington gestured over to him.

Lafayette and John shook their head sadly and said something to Washington that Alex couldn't make out as Washington nodded in reply, a small sad frown on his face.

The three said their goodbyes, before Laf and John made their way back. Alex couldn't help, but ask: “So, what was that about?”

“Oh, nothing much really.” John tried to avoid the topic.

“Why did you point at me?” Alex asked, god why did he always have to know everything? Make sure everything was going as planned?

“Because.” John answered.

“That’s not really a reason honestly.” Alex told him.

“Just let it go, alright?” John said.

“Laf?” Alex turned to the Frenchman.

Laf in turn shrugged: “It’s a past life thing, mon ami, we knew him. He thought he recognized you, but we explained, so that it wouldn’t be awkward.”

“Ah, thank you.” Alex said, curiosity sated and suspicions confirmed, “Why was that so hard to say?”

John threw his hands up in the air and snapped: “Because you are really similar to someone we knew and it still kinda sucks that you either aren’t him or aren’t remembering.”

Then he got up and sat somewhere else, the pit of guilt already forming in Alex stomach, he just had to keep fucking up, didn’t he?

Herc noticed and tried to comfort him: “Don’t take it to personally, Alex. You’re still great and we’re glad we know you. John was just close with the other Alex, well, Alexander.”

It didn’t really help and Alex just nodded, deciding to just keep his head down for now, not wanting more attention then necessary right now. Especially knowing who was standing in front of the board.

Of course the intention of keeping his head down did not last long and before he was really aware of what he was doing, he was ripping into this kid, Chris something or whatever. It didn’t matter, he was dumb and his opinions were shit, and Alex was letting him know.

“How on earth can you think that General Gates would have been a better leader for the Revolution instead of, oh, I don’t know, the Father of Founding Fathers, General and President Washington, who lead the American troops to victory?” he argued angrily.

“Washington took unnecessary risks and suffered many humiliating defeats that General Gates could have prevented.” the other kid sniffed.

“Those risks, as you like to call them, paid off.” Alex spat, “You’re sitting here because of them, deserving or not, and I suggest you pay better attention so you can realize how absurdly wrong you are.”

It looked like the kid was going to say something else, but before he could, John had stood up and threatened: “If you don’t keep your fucking mouth shut, it will meet my fist. Don’t test me.”

“Mr.-” Washington began.

“Lawson, sir.” John supplied

“Mr. Lawson, as much as I can appreciate discussions, I have to ask you keep the violence to yourself since it will not be condoled in this classroom.” Washington said.

John sat down, but he’d kept glaring at the Chris kid for the rest of the lecture. Though he seemed to have cooled down at the end and less angry at Alex since he joined them again while walking out of class.

“Hey, sorry for overstepping earlier.” Alex told him, just in case.

“It’s alright, just fresh wounds, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” John replied, he’s always had a big heart, “Besides, you made it up by fucking up that stupid Charles kid.”

“Charles? I thought he was named Chris.” Alex said, putting together why the argument had felt familiar, and getting a few snorts.

“You got really into that debate.” Lafayette said, a silent push to explain hung unsaid in the air.

Alex shrugged: “I’m an immigrant, I tried my whole life to get onto American soil, read all about the history and it irks me that privileged fucks like that don’t realize how fucking lucky they are to be born here. I know the Founding Fathers did some fucked up shit, of course, but, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

“Nah, I get it.” John slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him a side hug. Alex went willingly, the novelty at being allowed to do this was still amazing.

They talked some more as they walked when a black girl in a mellow pink top stalked her way over to them. Herc asked: “What the hell did you all do to piss her off.”

“Hey, I did nothing!” John exclaimed offended.

Lafayette looked scared, but turned up his sweetest smile as he asked the girl: “Hello, mademoiselle, what can we do for you?”

“I’m hosting a party, you’re invited.” she told them, “All of you. I’m Angie.” then she rattled off an address and a date, “Don’t miss it.”

“Wouldn’t dream off it.” Laf managed before she was gone.

The four of them shared a look and Alex said: “Was it just me or was that weird.”

He looked to the girls retreating back and saw her meet up with two other girls. One of them had wide eyes as she said something to Angie, then looked their way, blushing when she locked eyes with Alexander.

“No, that was definitely weird.” Herc assured him, snapping him back to the conversation.

“But it’s a party.” John cheered, “We have to go, I missed parties over the winter break, god the Christmas Galas were not something I looked forward to, but this will be fun.”

“Christmas Galas?” Alex raised a brow as a shit-eating grin crept onto his face.

John pushed him away with a fuck off and Alex silently mourned the presence of a warm arm over his shoulders as he tried to focus on John telling him about his father who was a Senator in South Carolina.

They laughed at John for a moment, before Alex mused: “You think it would be okay to drag my roommate with me? He never does anything fun, I want him to loose the stick that crawled up his ass.”

“Just take him.” Herc said.

“Yeah, what’s the worst that can happen?” Laf added.

Alex grinned and said: “You don’t want me to answer that. I am a chronic over-thinker with a tendency for the negative.”

“Try me.” Lafayette challenged.

“Well at this rate he murdered her previous lover, probably, and she kills him in return, she seems severe enough to pull it off and then I was there and I get charged just for being an accessory and my visa gets revoked and I get deported.” Alex theorized, taking small joys in bouncing off the truth for Aaron, though he had not realized how close to the truth he was for their invitee.

John laughed and ruffled his hair: “You’re a tiny idiot.”

“Like you’re one to talk. You’re hardly taller than me.” Alex pouted, his new life had not granted him more height sadly while it seemed that everyone elses had.

They traded more jabs as they walked before they had to split up for their dorms. He threw open the door and greeted Aaron, who startled violently at the noise, with a: “I have been invited to a party and you are going. I cannot let you die of being a boring nerd.”

“Alexander, do you want me to remind you of how much time you spend on your own studies?” Aaron asked, he had grown less skittish around him through time, especially when Alex showed no signs of remembering.

“Yeah, but I don’t have a stick up my ass.” Alex whined, “Come on, Aaron, please. Just for once in your life do something other than being the prime student who has no opinions.”

He watched as emotions warred on Aarons face. It was a low blow to call upon his last life while the other couldn't bring it up, an ultimate guilt trip.

“Alright.” but it worked.

Alex cheered and told him that it was that weekend, before plopping down at his desk and starting up his laptop, planning to finish the essay Washington had assigned for the end of the month, three weeks away.

~~~~~~

Sorry for my Google Translate French, I gave up on learning the language when I was twelve. The convo was this:

A: “I speak French!”

L: “Someone else who speaks the most beautiful language in the world!”

A: “I must say I’m quite fond of it, yes.”

#RR writing #hamilton #hamilton the musical #Hamitlon AU #alexander hamilton #lafayette #marquis de lafayette #hercules mulligan #john laurens #angelica schuyler #Aaron Burr #george washington #charles lee #samuel seabury #tw: mild homophobia #I Wrote My Own Deliverance #I Wrote My Own Deliverance Chapter 2

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dr-pepper-cherry · 4 years ago

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The Crimson Rangers

Where would Robin Hood be without the aid of his Merry Men? Or how could Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid accomplish their heists without the aid of The Wild Bunch? Neither of them could have gotten as far as they did without the aid of their gangs and the same goes for Deadeye, legendary gunslinger or not. Deadeye's group, The Crimson Rangers are composed of rogues and mercenaries two hundred and fifty strong that bring their own sense of vigilante justice to the lands of Hell. Founded and led by the Ranger In Red, Deadeye, they are infamous for their skills in stealth, accuracy and deadly efficiency. Whether it is to steal from the rich to give to the poor, assassinate the malicious and monstrous or to simply lend their skills as the greatest gunslingers and sharpshooters in Hell, they are the guns for hire when quality is wanted more than quantity.

Wiley “Dust Devil” Jackson

Demon Form: Jackrabbit

Age: 26

Division: Gunslinger

Rank: Sheriff

One of the fastest gunslingers around in both his time and the modern day, Wiley has always been quick on the draw, quick on his feet, and quick to run his mouth. Born as an orphan on the back alley streets of Boston, Massachusetts in 1860, the young outlaw began his path to banditry after he grew tired of the upper classes complete disregard to his existence and stole food from them to feed himself. Overtime, his quick hands and quicker feet would gather more than just food as he stole money, bullets and a gun, which finally got him in trouble after he used said gun to shoot a state marshal dead. With a bounty on his head at the age of 18, he ran off to the west, where he would only continue his life of crime by robbing stagecoaches and shooting strangers with a smile. His time finally came to an end when he entered a quick draw contest and attempted to draw guns against Johnny Harlan, who he discovered too late was just a bit faster.

Even after his death, Wiley refused to slow down his wild ways and continued his life of crime, unaware of all the attention he was drawing. When he crossed guns against a overlord who wanted him dead, he thought he was as good as gone until another gunslinger, cloaked in signature red, saved his life. Between feeling indebted to The Ranger In Red and wanting to be on the stronger side, he joined up with Deadeye's growing gang and was even promoted to the rank of Sheriff after his service in the Black Army Wars. Now in charge of the Crimson Ranger Gunslingers, he always skipping with a smile, running as fast as he talks, and ready to draw on just about anything.

Fun Facts About "Dust Devil"

. He has a tendency to be rather boastful about himself and his skills as a gunslinger. But if he can shut his mouth for two minutes and focus on the task at hand, many demons find out the hard way that he can back up his claims.

. Out of all the Crimson Rangers, he knows the streets of Pentagram City best, having grown up in a similar background.

. He's a pretty big fan of baseball, having spent most of his childhood playing baseball with the other orphans before his turn to gunfighting. Because of his years of practice, he is also the best thrower of the Rangers.

Voice Claim: Jack Marston - Red Dead Redemption

Art Credit: gimmieasmile

Doc "Rip Van Winkle" Friday

Demon Form: Hound Dog

Age: 76

Division: Sharpshooter

Rank: Sheriff

A soldier since adulthood and a sharpshooter since his first rifle, Old Doc may seem lazy, lofty and so paranoid he will never use his real name, but give him a reason to stare down a scope and he'll happily demonstrate why he leads the Crimson Ranger Sharpshooters. Born in Monterrey, Mexico in 1787, Doc joined the army at a young age and fought in many wars over the century, such as the War of 1812, the Texas-Indian Wars and the Mexican-American War, before entering the Civil War for the Union as he believed Mexico would be next, should the Confederates win. Being assigned into the 1st United States Sharpshooters Regiment, he lent his skills with his rifle to the United States and took control of the forces after his former captain, Josiah McGrath, was believed to be killed.

Although he was renowned for his sharpshooting prowess and professionalism, the horrors of both wars past and present began to take a toll on his mind as he began targeting anyone and everyone who even supported the Confederates, soldiers and civilians alike. His last fight would be at The Battle Of The Crater, as he was caught up with trying to shoot down another confederate when he was caught in a blast of cannon fire.

In Hell, Doc slowly began to cool from his soldiering days and often explored the many forests that laid through Hell before stumbling upon The Red Woods and even finding the son of his former captain, Cyrus McGrath who was now known as Deadeye. Helping the McGrath get back on his feet in an attempt to pay back Josiah, Doc was the first of The Crimson Rangers and even led them in the Black Army Wars, leading to his promotion to Sheriff. Even hundreds of years old, Doc doesn't plan to retire any time soon.

Fun Facts About "Rip Van Winkle"

. He's quite skilled with an acoustic guitar and doesn't mind playing the occasional song on his time off.

. Due to his laid-back personality, his years of wisdom and the occasional complaint about his old bones, he is often referred to as Grandpa Doc or Old Man. He doesn't really mind the old man nicknames. He does mind being called McGruff, however.

. His bloodhound form has made him a far better tracker than he was when he was alive. With enhanced senses, including a much stronger sense of smell, he can follow the trail of practically anyone.

Voice Claim: Raul Tejada - Fallout: New Vegas

Art Credit: Juju

Tacitus “Taci” Macello Andronicus, III

Demon Form: Alligator

Age: 44

Division: Stalker

Rank: Sheriff

An quiet and silent enforcer to The Crimson Rangers, one may be surprised to learn that the giant in scales actually leads the Crimson Ranger Stalkers, something that they might find funny until they realized Taci is right behind them. Raised in New Orleans in 1846, Tacitus's human life is a subject he barely likes to touch upon. Aside from his past as a enforcer for a local gang and his death at the hands of a rival gang throwing him to the gators, not much else is touched upon in his tales of his past. But while his past may remain a mystery, his present in Hell is all well known.

After his death, Taci's was quick to rejoin his old gang, making a comfortable living off cracking open skulls and bashing in debtors who tried to swindle them. He grew so comfortable in his position, he would even believe himself unbeatable. But that attitude was all but lost when a new arrival in Hell, a maniacal fox who called herself Viy, sought to take claim over more than just the business. Even though Taci tried to end her reign of terror then and there, he underestimated the warlord's strength and was beaten to unconsciousness. When he next awoke, the hideout was burnt to ruins, the bodies of his allies laid scattered around him and he himself was taken as a prisoner. Enslaved and transferred to Camp Beznadiynyy, Taci was experimented on and tested on with many of the Black Army weapons in an attempt to get him to break to the warlord's will. But even after being a test subject for several years and the torturous process that left numerous unhealable scars all across his body and the lost of his left arm, he would refuse to break, clinging on to a hope that he can escape and crush that warmonger's throat.

While he would never get to deal with Viy personally, his hopes for escape were answered when The Ranger In Red attacked the camp and freed the prisoners inside, Taci included. After Deadeye got him to safety in his woods and even crafted a replacement arm with a hidden cannon from his father's blueprints, Taci felt indebted to the gunslinger and served with Deadeye in the Black Army Wars, even being promoted to Sheriff for his efforts. The gentle giant he may be, he will show no mercy to anyone he hunts.

Fun Facts About "Taci"

. There have been some rumors that Taci manages to keep his assassination targets hidden by eating them, bones and all. It's probably not true. Probably.

. His mechanical arm actually contains a few more nifty gadgets. His fingertips can shoot out .357 Magnum ammunition, his wrist can detach and shoot out with a chain, allowing him to grapple objects or pull targets to him from far away and by detaching his arm, he can fire a last resort cannon blast.

. Due to his crocodilian form and his own swimming skills, Taci does his best work in the water, being practically undetectable in the waves.

Voice Claim: Wrex - Mass Effect

Art Credit: FatForSurvival18

Jessie "Silver" McCoy

Demon Form: Wolf

Age: 19

Division: Gunslinger

Rank: Deputy

While tales of The Reaper in Red struck fear and terror into the hearts of most who hear them, Jessie only found them awe-inspiring and hopeful. Born to a middle class family in Kansas, Jessie had always sought to separate him from the boring deeds of his family. He didn’t want to be known as some random farmer. He wanted his name on wanted posters, to be the next outlaw of legend. Going so far as to begin dressing up like a gunslinger, this wish for fame got him into a bad spot when a greenhorn bounty hunter believed he was the infamous Reaper In Red and forced Jessie to a duel, where he discovered his knack for the quickdraw just in time to shoot the bounty hunter dead. With the bounty hunter's death, Jessie found pride in his actions and left town to continue his life as an outlaw, even though he had no bounty. Despite his lack of experience, his talent for gunslinging was not only keeping him alive, it also brought a good amount of fame to his name. He might have become a legend of the west if not for the bounty hunter's younger brother, who stabbed the "outlaw" to death while his back was turned.

At first an aimless drifter in the afterlife, his actions as a gunfighter soon landed himself an audience with his childhood idol. But instead of greeting the Reaper In Red with the standard hostility, he left Deadeye confused as he went completely starstruck, going on a million miles a minute about Deadeye's past. While Deadeye was confused at the sudden attention, he found Jessie to be a reliable asset to the rangers, not to mention rather enduring that there were some people who actually liked him. So when the ranger offered a spot in his growing gang to the kid, Jessie joined on the spot with a grin on his face. Even after all these years, Jessie may still be as reckless as ever, but his persistence and talent have never once failed The Crimson Rangers.

Fun Facts About "Silver"

. Silver, by his very namesake, is one of the most charming and charismatic members of The Crimson Rangers. Because of his wordsmithing talents, he is often sent as the messenger and communicator to many deals with other demons or those who claim they wish to aid the rangers. And should his wording fail, he's got one hell of a gun hand to back himself up.

. Despite the form of a wolf, Silver is one of the kindest members of The Crimson Rangers, always facing every problem with optimism. However, during the rare times he actually loses his temper, he has a tendency to growl and bear his fangs.

. Having spent most of his childhood pouring through adventure novels and the like, he seems to be a bit genre savvy and tends to anticipates tropes that their targets would use in order to catch them.

Voice Claim: Shinji Ikari - Neon Genesis Evangelion

Art Credit: ✘❝ • 𝕱𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊 𝕰𝖝𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 • ❞✘

Todd "Ranger" Clarkson

Demon Form: Elk

Age: 20

Division: Sharpshooter

Rank: Deputy

Character Owned By: Ranger Todd

Out of the thieves and rouges in the Crimson Rangers, practically no one would expect to encounter a park ranger from the 80's. But don't be so quick as to laugh him off as the eye down the iron sights of his Winchester may be the last thing you never see.

What started as a simple summer job in Beaver Brook National Park quickly spiraled into a mysterious death trap for any poacher who dared to step into those woods. Park Ranger Todd Clarkson, who loved nature and wished to preserve it, often used his rifle to hunt poachers and those who disrespected the forest. While missing posters began to fly up on billboards and milk cartons, his fellow rangers never thought much on it until another park ranger discovered his hideaway shack, filled with evidence of the missing poachers. In his attempt to talk with Todd about the bodies, words were mixed up and a fight broke out. Although Todd managed to win, a fire had broken out in their brawl and gave Todd no time to react as he passed out from both his wounds and the smoke.

Todd would continue to stay near the trees and forests he grew attached to and was even bold enough to camp in the Red Woods, drawing the attention of the Crimson Rangers. While wary of Todd at first, the Crimson Rangers soon found his skills impressive after he aided in securing their home from corporate hands and offered him a place among them. With some refinement from Deadeye and Rip Van Winkle, Todd grew into a valued sharpshooter who now lends his rifle to the cause of The Crimson Rangers.

Fun Facts About "Ranger"

. His hat was given to him by the love of his life just before he died, and it's his most sentimental possession.

. Ranger dosen't keep pistols. He's confident in his ability to nail his target with a repeater at long range or short. And on the rare occasion he misses a point blank shot, he has even more confidence in his hunting knife.

. While a rarity, there’s a chance every now and then where he will cough up smoke. He’s not really sure why.

Voice Claim: MacCready - Fallout 4

Kozō "Kage" Jirokichi

Demon Form: Rat

Age: 41

Division: Stalker

Rank: Deputy

Originally a street rat from the streets of Kyoto, Japan, Kozō had grown to hate the taxes and laws that oppressed his people and sought to fight against the might of the local lords. His attempts to protest against the lords resulted in his branding and banishment, further dragging his name into the dirt. However, he was undeterred in his fight and instead snuck into the palace and ran off with their entire supply of gold. Working on his own, Kozō adopted a Robin Hood like persona, robbing the rich and sharing his wealth to the poor. He grew infamous for his exploits and managed to sneak and steal for fifteen years until he was finally caught and executed. Even though his intentions were for the greater good, thievery is still a sin and so he was dammed to Hell.

Upon arrival, Kozō attempted to fade into obscurity, but his actions had caught the attention of the overlords. They were worried they too would be robbed by the infamous thief and attempted to have him killed once again. But before one attempt almost claimed his afterlife, he was rescued by The Crimson Rangers, who he felt rather grateful towards as they were some of the first few people who showed him kindness since he landed down in Hell. Lending his skills as a thief, he was taken into their fold and has resumed his old life of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Just with the aid of more than himself.

Fun Facts About "Kage"

. The blade at his hip is the infamous Juuchi Yosamu, or 10,000 Cold Nights, that he stole from legendary swordsmith, Sengo Muramasa. The blade is so perfectly sharp that it is able to slice through anything as if it was passing through water, be it solid steel to even the air around him. While it is a incredible weapon, he finds it is also an incredible thieving tool since he can practically make his own entrances and exits.

. He is rarely ever far from a bottle of sake. While he usually keeps himself off the bottle until his task is complete, there are times where he will sneak a quick sip if things get too stressful.

. While he primarily speaks in Japanese, he can understand English fairly well and has been teaching some of the rangers Japanese in return. It's a slow process, but a process nonetheless.

Voice Claim: Kazuma Kiryu - Yakuza

Art Credit: Shakers

Rosa "Bullet-Weaver" de la Costa

Demon Form: Fox

Age: 28

Division: Gunslinger

Rank: Deputy

For Rosa de la Costa, life is as wild as you wish to make it. And if you must be the one to make it wild, you better leave a performance that will be remembered. A dashing pistolera from Mexico, Rosa life started out with a dream to see the world and indulge in every pleasure she could achieve through dance and song. But in a time before such things would become popular and where those who reached fame had to twirl guns or be feared, life was often poor for Rosa who had to expand her talents to keep a stable income. Through a combination of dancing, singing and sleeping with anyone who paid every now and then, she had begun to earn a name for herself, short as it was yet enough to live a life of comfort and carefreeness. Of course, this life wouldn’t last forever, much to her dismay. But a richer, more exciting one would be drawing near as one night, she was accosted by three thugs, a gaggle of foul-mouthed morons who were interested in a free performance and were not looking to hear a no. But when they fired upon her after a rather violent refusal, the dancer was miraculously unscathed from the flurry of bullets, leaving her bewildered and amazed. Even more so as she stole a pistol from them and fired three rounds in their heads, despite never even holding a gun before. For Rosa, this was a sign that her life was meant for more, a sign to be something greater. And with three men dead and her being the only witness, she was eager to leave her old life behind anyway. Over the next few years, tales of the Bullet-Weaver were spread far and wide, a queen among gunslingers who no bullet could touch. She was feared for her pistol work, beloved for her beauty and skills, and was proud of the reputation she had earned. But she had attracted more than just looks as she found out too late one night when a handsome stranger she had taken to bed revealed himself to be a bounty hunter. And while no bullet could ever touch her, the hangman's noose certainly could.

She may have known exactly where she was going in the afterlife, but she had no idea it was going to be so alive and vibrant, especially in Pentagram City. Putting her pistols aside for the moment, Rosa spent her early years lavishing in her original dream, finding fame and fortune as a lounge singer. But even though she had found a life of comfort, she found it rather boring and uneventful. Every day was a song she knew and every want was taken care of in tandem. The life of a wandering pistolera had left quite the impression upon her and she ached to return to the life of adventure once more. But with the end of gunslingers approaching and more advanced guns being forged, she felt as if it was a dream she couldn't reach. She felt she was now stuck in her afterlife until one of her fans, a certain jackrabbit who knew about the pistolera, was more interested in her skills with a gun instead and invited her to join The Crimson Rangers. Finding comfort, safety and familiarity in the Crimson Rangers, Rosa has since become a valued member of the gang, even teaching them her ways of evasion. At least to anyone who can keep up.

Fun Facts About "Bullet-Weaver"

. She may no longer practice prostitution, but the attitude for it never left her. She’s not above using her charms to seduce her targets, loves a good dirty joke and tends to flirt with just about anyone and everyone.

. Though her skill with guns is as good as any ranger, she’s also quite skilled in the capoeira marital art, often getting through every fight with flare and grace.

. The red bandana she wears was a gift from the first man she ever grew to love. While his name has now been lost to her, the bandana remains as a treasured possession.

Voice Claim: Isabela - Dragon Age: Inquisition

Art Credit: Sugartooth

Holly "Iron Maiden" Mayberry

Demon Form: Horse

Age: 35

Division: Sharpshooter

Rank: Deputy

While she is now known for her tough-as-nails personality and unwillingness to take anything lying down, There was a time in Holly’s life where her only wants were raising a family and living a life of home and comfort. But that dream has long since died.

Formerly a loving wife to Eric Mason, a local cowboy in Marble Falls, Texas, her former life was taken from her after the recently appointed sheriff took an interest in her. Even though she was married and completely uninterested in such a vain and callous man, he cared not of her concerns and wanted to make her his, no matter how. And when one of his attempts earned him a black eye from Eric, the sheriff twisted his sentence from assault to attempted murder and sentenced him to hang. Seeing her husband hanging from the gallows brought something cold and vengeful in her soul as she used the sheriff’s feelings against him, brought him out to Eric's grave and murdered him with her bare hands before giving one last goodbye to her husband and running out of Marble Falls as fast as she could. Bringing Eric's killer to justice brought a sense of belonging that left an impression on the widow as she decided to pick up a line of work she knew would both be bringing in money and the feeling of vengeance being dealt: bounty hunting. Over the next years, her true talents began to shine through the veil she had once believed she had to be. With either rifle or revolver, her skills as a shootist made her into a force of nature and a fearful sight to any bounty she chose to pursue, even managing to match the best bounty hunters in the west. However, her final target, the infamous Johnny Harlan was never claimed as she was shot and killed by rival bounty hunter and inside man of The Outlaws, Graham McKendrick.

At first, she was a bit distressful where she had ended up. But she knew there was no undoing what was done now and continued her bounty hunting ways. Incidentally, one of her bounties, more specifically the bounty on Doc, led to her recruitment into the Crimson Rangers after finding their ideals appealing to her need to dismantle the corrupt people in power. Finding no reason to doubt her or her excellent sharpshooting skills, she quickly became a welcomed addition. And while she mostly keeps her outlook of stoicism and bluntness, there's been the occasional smile on Holly's face since joining the rangers.

Fun Facts About "Iron Maiden"

. Her eyes are a bit sensitive to light and, as a result, are why she often wears a pair of sunglasses. While she's went through many over the years, her favorite are a pair of aviator shades.

. Her hat and lever-action Winchester rifle, Ol' Hickory, were the last gifts from her husband before they parted long ago. She refuses to let another soul lay so much as a finger on either.

. Holly has a weakness for similarly tough women and tends to get a bit flustered around them.

Voice Claim: Femgineer - DustyOldRoses

Art Credit: 𝕾𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖗 𝕻𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖘𝕾

Roblyn "Huntress" Valencia

Demon Form: Chicken

Age: 27

Division: Stalker

Rank: Deputy

While many have the choice to become a criminal or not, this wasn’t the case for Robyn Valencia, daughter & heir to the Valencia mafia family. Born between the union of mob boss and leader, Alessio Valencia, and a former mistress of his, Robyn had spent her whole life learning the skills of a criminal and was personally taught by both her father and the members of his growing gang. Despite their infamous reputation, she never saw them as villains as they treated all with the upmost respect, especially her and her father. She grew to carry a great respect for her father and his trade, finding their work powerful and practical, even growing proud how one day it would all be hers. That day came sooner than she would have liked when her father was killed by a shot in the back after he attempted to duel a swindling gambler in white. She wished to avenge her father by tracking his killer, who had fled to the United States, and began a promising start to her family by expanding their work to the San Francisco area. When she learned that her father’s murderer had been killed by a so called “Reaper In Red”, her fury grew restless and disastrously as she attempted to take on The Reaper In Red. But her attempts to kill him ultimately resulted in her end after a risky chase across the city rooftops caused her to miss a step and fall to her death, leaving her gang without a leader.

For the first few years, her afterlife was spent in waiting, doing hit jobs here and there to improve her skills. And when The Reaper in Red finally died, she attempted to try again on Cyrus's life, who had long since calmed from his more murderous days as The Reaper in Red. Even though he had retired from his murderous persona, he managed to win once more but wanted to put away his past and chose to spare her. This left Robyn in a state of disbelief and revaluation of both her afterlife and what had led here. When tales of The Crimson Rangers began to surface around Hell, it was surprising for Deadeye to see her again, especially hearing that she wanted to join them. Her reasonings remain a mystery but she joined the gang and slowly began to move on from her past. Finding a home with the Crimson Rangers, she decided to stay and has stuck with them ever since.

Fun Facts About “Huntress”

. Huntress was one of the first benefactors of The Crimson Rangers as her ties to the Valencia family remain strong and loyal. In exchange for turning a blind eye to her family, she has supplied the rangers with plenty of soldiers, hundreds of weapons and a whole lot of money for whatever else is desired.

. Huntress is prehaps the coldest member of the group, but there is hints that the Crimson Rangers examples of selflessness are starting to rub off on her. Barely, but it's there.

. Do NOT make fun of her sinner form. Taking cracks at her appearance tends to never go well for whoever started it.

Voice Claim: Rose Of Sharon Cassidy - Fallout New Vegas

Art Credit: I just exists

#hazbin hotel oc #hhoc #The Crimson Rangers #Deadeye #Wiley “Dust Devil” Jackson #Doc Rip Van Winkle Friday #Tacitus “Taci” Macello Andronicus III #Jessie Quickdraw McCoy #Todd Ranger Clarkson #Kozō Kage Jirokichi #Rosa Bullet-Weaver de la Costa #Holly Iron Maiden Mayberry #Roblyn Huntress Valencia #hazbin hotel

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chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years ago

Text

Blood Ties || Oscar and Kaden

TIMING: Night of the full moon, right after Bring on the Night LOCATION: Woods and Kaden’s apartment PARTIES: @forfuchssake and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Family reunion part 2

Kaden could have kicked himself for letting the wolf get away. But right now all he could concentrate on was the pain. Lots of pain. Once the beast was down he let out a sigh and cradled his arm. Oscar was honestly the last person he expected to see here. And now of all times. “I had it,” he said, practically pouting as he gathered up his weapons while trying to be gentle with his arm. He couldn’t hide his wincing as he re-holstered his gun and sheathed his knife. Somehow he felt like he was fifteen again, still learning, still inexperienced. At least this time he wasn’t left nearly dead when the wolf who killed his fucking parents ran off, still alive. “Thanks for letting me know you were in town, by the fucking way,” he grumbled. It had been what, five, six years since they’d last seen each other? Barcelona if he remembered correctly. He hated looking so fucking incompetant already. Just what he needed to boost his fucking confidence when he was already sure he was a piece of shit hunter. Still, it was good to see him. He was the only real family Kaden had left really. Which is why a fucking heads up might have been nice. Leave it to Oscar to be dramatic.

As much as he hated that the Krieg wolf was still on the loose, Oscar knew they’d find another chance to put her in the ground. Still, he expected better from Kaden. Even as a kid, he’d shown such strong potential, but everyone had their off nights and a bies showing up could really put a dent in their plans. At least the ficken bies was dead. “You did. Next time you won’t let it get away,” he assured. Even if he expected more, it was hard to be too harsh on Kaden. That had always been more Lauren Langley’s thing. He placed his gun back in its holster and marveled over the dead bies. “Big du hurensohn, isn’t he,” he mused, before turning back to Kaden. With a somewhat playful grin and dramatic open-armed gesture, he responded, “What? No ‘good to see you’ or ‘how’ve you been’?” Something about Kaden seemed more tense than normal, given his injuries weren’t looking too good so he’d let it slide. “It wasn’t a planned trip. Got bored of Washington after I killed off the pack I’d been hunting. Figured since I was already in the states, I’d take the next train over. Planned on surprising you at the Bullet, but glad I caught you out here.” Giving him another look over, he asked, “We need to patch you up before you invite me to your surely humble abode?”

“That’s what I said last time,” Kaden mumbled to himself. Still, a small sigh of relief left his lips as Oscar forgave him. He was always so much easier to fail in front of than his parents. With how much of a fucking failure he felt like recently, it was easy for him to forget. His uncle always could see the immense pressure Kaden put on himself, that much was clear to both of them. He never rubbed it in. It’s something he’d always appreciated. The corners of his mouth slowly pulled up into a smile, his muscles relaxing as he found himself fitting back into their old rhythm. It had been so long now, he had to remember the beats bit by bit. “Sure is. You know this is the third I’ve run into here. This town is a trip,” he said as he nudged the fallen body of the beast with the toe of his boot. It flopped back down, very dead. Funny, Regan would have loved to study this, watch it decay. It was all he could think about. Putain. The tension was back, his eyes flashed wide for a second. He had to keep Oscar from Regan. There’s no way that would go well. “Yeah that sure sounds like you. Doubt you’ll get bored quite as fast here,” he said with a small laugh, still cradling his arm. He gave it a quick one over. It was bad, alright. He was pretty sure the fact that his uncle might be here a while was bad, too. There was no way he was going to be all approving of the bullshit Kaden had found himself in recently. Then again, maybe this was good; shake him out of whatever crap he was stuck in. “Yeah, it needs some stitches, pretty sure. I think we can wrap it for now, fix it up once we’re at my place. Where are you staying anyway?” Cause it’s not with me.

Even if he agreed to an extent, Oscar wasn’t cruel enough to say so. Kaden had always been hard on himself. Lauren had always been pretty hard on him, too. Oscar preferred to embrace the more fun side of hunting and tried to share that with the younger man he had always considered family. “Neither of us could have anticipated a fucking bies showing up, Junge,” he finally responded. There was always next month. At the mention of it being the third bies Kaden had seen in town, he tilted his head. He’d read about them plenty, but he’d never gotten to encounter let alone kill one before tonight. “I see you chose a fun town to call home. I’ve always wanted to kill one of these bad boys. And don’t worry, I’m not gonna crash at your place and scare all your dates off.” He said the last part jokingly before wrapping Kaden’s arm up enough for them to at least make it back to his home. When they did arrive, Oscar looked around the apartment incredulously. Why did Kaden have so many bones and skulls decorating the place? None of them even looked like werewolves. How mundane. He cocked his brow and asked, “What’s with all the bones? You got a new hobby I don’t know about?”

“Yeah and funny enough I didn’t want to see you dead. Who knew,” Kaden responded jokingly. It was weird to hear White Crest called his home while Oscar patched up his arm, but he supposed he wasn’t wrong. He’d been here a while and this was the most settled and stable he’d felt in a long time. Guess this was home, then. Not sure how he felt about that. But when he opened up the door to his apartment and Abel came bounding up to both of them, he took a look around. Yeah, oddly enough this was home. “Yeah, about that,” he started as he ruffled Abel’s fur with his good hand. “I, uh, have a girlfriend. She’s into dead things. Lots of skulls. Trust me, it’s better than some of her alternatives.” Kaden tensed. He nearly forgot that Regan was fae. And he just told his uncle, a hunter, who hated the supernatural as much as Kaden did when he got to White Crest, about his girlfriend who was a banshee. “You want a drink?” Maybe he could gloss over this whole thing. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here, by the way. You know as opposed to anywhere else in the states.”

At the mention of a girlfriend, Oscar looked somewhat incredulous. It had been a long time since they last saw each other, but it was still hard to imagine Kaden settling down. He wondered if perhaps he finally found another hunter. The Langleys had always been big on their legacy. With a playful grin, he pressed, “Girlfriend, huh? Surprised she hasn’t gifted you a werewolf skull for the collection yet. Who’s the lucky lady?” He noted the dog, remembering him being mentioned one of the last times they spoke on the phone. He extended his hand to let Abel give him a sniff. “A dog now, too? When’d you get all domestic on me, kid?” The apartment definitely looked lived in. It’d been a while since he stayed in one place long enough to really make it feel like home. After Kaden was old enough to go out on his own, he didn’t see much purpose in having a home base though his house still stood back in Bad Wimpfen. It’d been too long since he’d been back. “A beer sounds good right about now-- and none of that American shit,” he answered. He feigned a hurt look. “What? I can’t pop in and surprise my favorite nephew?” He shrugged and took a seat on the couch before giving a real answer. “I keep up with the news wherever you go. Seems like this town is a hell of a ride. Plenty of monsters to kill and we get to catch up. Win win.”

Kaden reached up to rub the back of his neck. Oh god, there was no good way to even start this conversation. He couldn’t say what she was. At all. But Oscar had to at least know that Regan was unaware of the whole hunter thing. “Uh, not likely. She doesn’t know the supernatural exists. Still. And definitely doesn’t know about the hunting thing, either.” He wasn’t sure how Oscar was going to react to that news, but he was sure there was going to be some judgement. Hell, he’d judge himself, too. “Her name’s Regan. She’s a medical examiner. Gorgeous. Entirely too smart to bother with me. But here we are,” he said with a shrug as he headed to the kitchen to grab the booze. “Yeah, Abel. Got him to be a hunting dog. He’s, uh, he’s a great dog. But not a hunter.” He rolled his eyes as he swung open the fridge door. “It’s not domestic. It’s just--” Alright, it was a little domestic. “There’s more than enough hunting to do here so I don’t know, it just sort of happened.” He made the mistake of giving a shit about people here, that’s really what happened. Not sure why he let it, he had plenty of connections. Oscar, all their hunter connections, it should have been enough. Instead he lost focus. And now his uncle was going to find out. Still, it was nice knowing someone was looking out for him, even if he wasn’t going to say it. “Hey, it’s not that I’m not happy to see you just wanted to make sure there wasn’t some big shit I should be worried about or shit like that.” Kaden popped off the caps on the bottles, and went back over to the couch, taking a seat after handing Oscar one of the beers. “And come on, American beer? I know it’s been a while but who the hell do you think I am?”

While it was surprising, Oscar didn’t mind much that Kaden was dating a human that didn’t know about the supernatural. It wasn’t like he settled down with a nice hunter woman himself and he cared little for the whole legacy thing. He could practically hear Lauren’s disapproval though his own was more rooted in potentially putting a human in danger. It was why he never dated too seriously. Too much risk. Still, Kaden was an adult now. “If she doesn’t know about the supernatural, it’s better she doesn’t know about the hunting. Just be careful. Don’t need a human getting too curious about animal attacks in the woods.” He nodded along as he described Regan. It didn’t quite click where all the bones fit in, but the medical examiner part made a little more sense. “Regan. Sounds like a catch. You’ll have to introduce me soon. How’d you two meet?” None of what he said made it easier to wrap his head around seriously dating a human who knew nothing of their world, but if it made Kaden happy, he could be supportive. At the end of the day, kid was going to do whatever the hell he wanted anyway. He gave Abel a few pats on the head and let out a hearty chuckle. “Doesn’t look like much of a hunter, you’re right. Even trained, I don’t think there’s much dogs can do against a werewolf. Guess they could alert you, but you should know well enough to always be tuned in completely on a full moon.” He raised a brow as Kaden grabbed a brew for him. “It’s a little domestic, but judging on the paper here, you have your work cut out for you.” While it was strange to see him settling down, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. It was clear he was still out there and hunting, keeping this crazy town safe. “No big shit to worry about here. Just couldn’t let you have all the fun out here.” He took the bottle of Warsteiner from Kaden and took a long swig. “Had to make sure you didn’t get that Budweiser crap to go along with the American dream you’ve got going on here.”

“Trust me, I do my best to keep her out of it. But this town is a shit show. I’ve got plenty of stories already, let me tell you.” It would be nice to swap war stories, it was one of the best parts of whenever Kaden and Oscar reconnected, going over all the shit that they ran into out on hunts, laughing at the ridiculous crap that happened, figuring out who took down the bigger beasts. That he was looking forward to. Introducing him to Regan, much less so. “Yeah, at some point, for sure. Maybe over dinner or something.” Or never, they could meet never, too. “Uh, met her while out jogging. Then went for a date in a cemetery. I thought she might be a vampire or a slayer or something. I was a little off.” Just a fucking bit. He took a chug of his drink. It was always funny remembering how things started off with Regan and how different it was now. “Yeah, figured he’d be more help out in the field on a regular basis, alert me to monsters, maybe get a shot in or two, you know. But he just runs and hides. Oh well. I do alright on my own.” Never mind he was probably just a moment away from his second near death experience up against a wolf in this town earlier tonight. “Tais-toi, I’m not that domestic. But yeah there’s no shortage, that’s for sure. I’m working as an animal control officer so I’ve been getting paid for hunting shit which is really nice, let me tell you.” He grabbed a post-it pad nearby and chucked it at Oscar’s head. “Fuck off,” he said playfully. “It’s not about that. No bullshit American dreams, just a good hunting spot, alright? Figured I earned a few benefits, that’s all. Not like hunting gives you health insurance.”

“Shit show town, looks like I chose the right place to visit you. Anything going on currently you could use an extra hand with,” Oscar asked genuinely, “You know, outside of killing that Krieg wolf.” He was very eager to hear what monsters were lurking in town and meet the woman who seemed to have Kaden settling down. It’d been far too long since they’d gotten to spend real time together and he missed that connection. Kaden was the only family he had left and it was good to see he was taking care of himself. Building a life for himself the way his parents had though he had to wonder if kids were ever going to be in the picture. It’d be hard to train a hunter if one spouse wasn’t in the know, but he didn’t need to know everything about their relationship just yet. “Dinner would be perfect. Cemetery is one hell of a first date. No wonder you thought she was a vampire or slayer. Glad you were wrong… well, about the vampire part. Dated a slayer once. That was definitely a fun time.” He’d spare Kaden the details on that one. He let out a laugh in good spirits. It was always good catching up. With another sip from his beer, he joked, “Right, whatever you say, Junge. I believe you on it being a good hunting spot. Less than a day here and I already spot and kill my first bies. Nice you’re essentially getting paid to hunt.” At the mention of health insurance, he shook his head. “Verdammt noch mal. Americans and their shitty health care system.”

“I have a camazotz I need to look for but that’s about it. Aside from that fucking wolf.” Kaden’s grip on the beer bottled tightened. He was so close to getting his revenge. So fucking close. And he let it slip away. But, no, he couldn’t let Oscar die. There was no way he was okay losing even more of his family to that fucking monster. He’d meet up with the monster again, he was sure of it. And they’d take it down this time. Full stop. “Great, sure, uh I’ll plan that. At some point. She’s pretty busy though. All the time. Huge death rate in town. But yeah, she’s weird alright, but I like her.” He tried to keep some of the goofy smile off his face, but there was really no hiding it when he got sappy and shit. “And you act like I’ve never dated a hunter. Come on, I do know what it’s like. I’m not fucking fifteen anymore.” Thank god for that. He was glad he had Oscar back then but he was even happier to have left that time right after his parents’ deaths in the past. He wished it didn’t come bubbling back up to the surface every time they reunited. Shit, he’d have to tell Oscar about his mother’s ghost. Later. Not now, not tonight. Tonight they earned a break. “Yeah, well, welcome to White Crest, Oscar.”

#wickedswriting #writing #chatzy #oscar #forfuchssake #blood ties

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colorfullfalls · 4 years ago

Text

Appreciated

Summary: An American assistant catches Kylo Ren's eye at a United Nations conference.

Kylo Ren did not appreciate Earth. The people were unaware of his power, of the First Order's power. He was undoubtedly taking over Earth whether it was liked or not. He didn't care. He was free to do what he pleased without anyone to stop him. The UN gathered to discuss the issue of what to do, if war was even an option. Kylo Ren was amused by Earth's citizens for thinking they had a choice. Even if there was a war, the First Order would dominate within hours. His light saber would kill any of these fool within seconds. The conference was held in the United States, tense anxiety looming over each member like a cloud. Kylo smirked at the intimidation of his starkiller hovering in the sky. One wrong move and he would wreak havoc.

His knights surrounded him as he walked through the streets earlier that day taking in the new scenes of the world that would soon be theirs. Women moved their babies away from the crew, men hesitated to keep walking, and kids pointed and whispered in awe. Attention that was not completely negative was foreign to him. Other world's would scream in fear and hatred as soon as their ships landed. But at the same time, Earth was so very unaware how things go when it came to him.

Washington D.C was busy as people filed into the House Chambers for the primal meeting. Kylo pushed past a few representatives of Spain as he walked in, his build larger than anyone else's. He rolled his eyes. This was all unnecessary to him, but he let them have their fun. Tomorrow he would take what was his. What was owed to him for his shitty upcoming with Luke.

He leaned against the back wall as the meeting began. Everyone in the room was dressed in suits or pant suits or even dresses. Clothes here were much different than he was customed to. Listening was no priority of his because this damn gathering was equal to a child's birthday celebration in his eyes. Meaning that nothing was going to be accomplished.

You slipped in beside him holding five coffees on a tray. You glanced at the beast beside her but kept going. You could not afford to deliver cold coffees during such a crisis. Your job depended on it. American representatives took the coffees wand practically shooed you away without a single thank you. Shoulders sagging, you went to walk back out to grab their sandwiches.

Kylo watched the encounter with confusion. They took the coffees without even looking at you, and you were somehow okay with it? His people served him but that's because he was in charge. He didn't say thank you, didn't need to. But these low lives? What possible status could they have? One among hundreds at a meeting. Earth was odd because it was divided, different leaders ruling different areas. In his eyes it made Earth weak.

You were breathtakingly beautiful. Short hair framed your face, cascading to rest right about the shoulders. You looked unbelievably kind with your soft smile even though you just got treated like scum. You looked like a woman who should be Queen of a prosperous planet, not an unappreciated assistant of sorts.

"Come here." Kylo's voice caught not only your attention, but also the people's around you. Your eyes adverted to him, ghostly pointing a finger at yourself in confusion.

"M-me?"

"Yes, you, come."

You sheepishly trudged over, terrified that the Supreme Leader would kill you. His hair fell over some of his face as he looked expectantly down at you. You went to kneel in front of him but his gloved hand grabbed your bicep.

"State your position."

"Assistant, sir."

He clicked his tongue in amusement at you calling him sir. Such a beauty in a shitty place. Your voice was soft and unsure. It made his hard exterior slightly melt away. His mother once told him when he was a young boy that you only truly fall in love once. That your soul only binds completely with another one single time. Woman usually were not that desirable to him. He would have sex with them but he never cared about them. He was already interested in you.

"Seems beneath you. Follow me."

You swallowed heavily at the order, but before you could protest his knights were crowding behind you. A silent demand that you comply to their leader's wish. You sighed. Today was simply not your day. A black ship was parked outside in the yard, white armored Storm Troopers surrounding it. They stared at you earlier when you had walked past to deliver coffee. Not friendly folks, you presumed. Kylo waved his two fingers and his guard dogs shifted, allowing a clear path to the entrance ramp.

Kylo walked in first and turned around, leaning against the wall. Apparently that was his usual. Yet again his fingers moved to signal his knights away. They nodded their heads and in synch left down the ramp to guard themselves. His dark hair flowed slightly against the light breeze.

"Earth is a pitiful thing." He declared, "Technology is far behind other planets, no alien species habitat the area, and the people here? They are senseless. My troops could destroy this place."

You sighed, "I am not a leader. I cannot discuss terms with you. Leaders are in the room you just took me out of."

He rolled his eyes at your lack of understanding. He wanted you to understand that he was tolerating Earth for the day, but he wanted to more than tolerate you.

"I do not wish to discuss terms with you." Your eyes snapped to his. You had been in many situations where you had zero power. You were to listen and do what was told because the people you work for are above you. In charge. While you work your ass off and still are struggling to announce yourself as a successful woman. Again, Kylo Ren was way way way above you on terms of authority. Being an assistant woman on Earth is no comparison to the handsome and aggressive man before you.

"Why then...?"

"Why what? Say it." His voice was demanding and goosebumps traveled down your arms and surely to your legs too.

"Why did you bring me here? Oh no.. am I going to die to set an example? Of course this is the karma for not picking up that Hitchhiker the other day. Paranoia is what gets me killed... Mom would be proud." You rambled to yourself, hands running down your face in frustration.

Kylo shook his head no, not liking that you assumed the worst of him, "I am not killing you. Tell me your name."

"Y/N."

He hummed in appreciation of your name, never hearing it before. It somehow suited you perfectly. He nodded, "I'm Kylo."

You nervously barked out a laugh, "Yes. Kylo Ren. I am aware of that, infact the whole world is. Did I do something to disrespect you earlier?"

"You were disrespected."

This took you by surprise. The lethal Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, Han and Leia's only heir was pressed at how you were treated by your asshole bosses. Being a moderately pretty woman gained you attention from time to time, but catching his eye was beyond you. Unknown to you Kylo was reading your mind. It was easy to slip into.

Kylo was stunned that you referred to yourself as moderately pretty. In his eyes you were the most beautiful being his brown eyes landed on. Maybe it was his Mother's tale about soulmates that was getting to him. He considered this very carefully. He did know you or your soul, but could the force be giving him a hint that you would be his one life partner? Either way he was not letting you rot here.

"Not really. It comes with the job because that's how things work around here." You retorted, glancing outside to see people looking in at you. An elderly man stood on the skirts of the lawn, worrying that you were in harm's way. You offered a wave followed by a thumbs up and it was enough because he continued on.

"Do you think you deserve to be treated as such?"

"I'm a hard worker but so are millions of people who get the short end of the stick."

Kylo rolled his eyes and pointed outside, "Blowing this place up may be considered a favor. This is the supposed greatest country's capital and there are homeless here."

"Anyone can be poor anywhere. Earth has it's flaws, sir, but I can assure you that there is good here." You crossed your arms in a defying manner. This was your home.

"Good and bad are not definite, both coexist in a complicated manner. Whoever disagrees is an imbecile." He snarled, hand hitting the wall in anger. Both at you defending Earth and for not listening to him.

How could you defend a planet that was full of selfish pricks who were living lavishly with billions of dollars while more poor swarmed the streets than flies. Kylo took care of his people once they were under his rule. The First Order elegantly supported struggling citizens according to need. Earth seemed like a waste of his time. It only infuriated him at how poorly it was doing.

"What do you want from me?" You quietly asked. Escaping was impossible. Troops surrounded the ship and Kylo Ren was said to be stubborn.

"Power comes with loneliness, Y/N. Consulting with my officers leaves me in a position to be weak. Being weak revolts me. As beautiful as you may be, you are weak."

You scoffed in disbelief, "Excuse me?"

His body moved to surrounded yours like a lion going after a gazelle. His body pinned you, hands rested close to your head against the solid black wall, "You are weak. You take shit from worthless money makers with no true value. Earth raised you this way. But I am here to change that. You will be more."

"More?"

"Yes. We can help one another. For you, I will give you power. No longer will those beneath you take you for granite." His voice was stern like he had all the answers in a tiny book that only he had access to.

"Yeah? What about you, Supreme Leader?"

"Glad you asked. I need someone to confide in without the risk of being overthrown. The force within me senses trust and loyalty. Simply words are what I require from you."

Compromises rarely proved helpful in your case. Set backs always trailed along with them like a loose string on an old sweater. Untangled until nothing but scraps were left. Kylo Ren was a snake. A successful murderer who worked for his cause alone. But what did you have to lose at this point? Your family shut you out after you moved away, you were really too busy for friends, and certainly busy enough to not have a significant other. Leaving Earth behind did not sound that bad. Not when what was offered was appreciation in turn for treating a someone like a decent human being.

"Okay. On one condition."

Kylo's head leaned down so that he was looking into your eyes, "Go on."

"Protect Earth instead of destroying it. I'm not dumb, this place has shitty people but there are simple pleasures that I want maintained. Old tribes, trains, caramel candy, the cultures, high school baseball games, fireworks, cows in pastures, and dogs. Dogs are so very sweet and we don't deserve them. Just please..."

Kylo leaned away from you, crossing his strong arms over his chest. Your eyes tried to look as pleading as possible. He didn't want to give in. Earth was pretty annoying and it being wiped out of the sky would please him to an outrageous extent. But the way you were asking so nicely with every ounce of his heart, he contemplated it. Not to mention that it meant he would finally have someone to talk real conversations with.

"Deal."

#kylo ren imagine #kylo ren

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Criss Cross Cranberry Sauce (Rated T)

Summary:

Aziraphale spends so much time focused on making Christmas dinner for their friends perfect, and doing everything the human way, he forgets one tiny little detail. (1393 words)

Notes: Written for @drawlight’s ‘31 Days of Ineffables’ prompt 'cranberry’.

Read on AO3.

“Angel? Hey, angel? How’s it going in here? You’ve been working all morn … ing. Wow!” Crowley stops, mouth agape, at the southern end of a long table that could have come straight from the pages of an Elle Décor magazine, barely an inch of the white granite to be seen beneath an infantry of serving bowls and platters laden with camera-ready food. “That’s quite the spread. You really went all out!”

Aziraphale puffs his chest, grinning with pride. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“And you didn’t miracle anything?”

“Not a thing,” Aziraphale beams, lighting an equally impressive army of candles using a long, wood match; each gold taper rising from the wells of elegant, crystal candlesticks. Crowley watches Aziraphale bounce the yellow flame from wick to wick, pausing to let it catch and then moving on to the next. It seemed a rather inefficient way for an angel, of all beings, to light this many candles when he could simply snap his fingers and have them all done at once. But Aziraphale had been determined. They were throwing this dinner for their mortal friends, so he’d wanted to do everything the human way. Besides, food prepared by hand tasted better than miracled food in Aziraphale’s opinion.

How true that is, Crowley can’t attest. He thought miracled food tasted fine. Of course, he didn’t miracle food out of thin air. He can’t create with his magic the way Aziraphale can. Crowley manifested food and drink from elsewhere, like The Ritz. Aziraphale would probably object to feeding their closest friends a meal of stolen food.

Crowley, on the other hand, thinks it would be hilarious.

If no one else appreciated the humor, Warlock definitely would. And possibly Adam. And Adam’s battalion of friends.

Crowley seriously considers miracling up one tiny thing, like a tart or a casserole, so the lot of them can share in the private joke. But Aziraphale would feel the signature of his demonic magic all over the dish.

And he would be grumpy.

Crowley strolls down the length of the table towards his angel, perusing the gourmet fare, whistling low when he comes across eight ceramic bowls of a nearly identical dish, bookended by Waterford vases overflowing with tulips and roses. “Got enough cranberry sauce there?”

“Yes, well, I learned my lesson after last year’s cranberry sauce debacle.” Aziraphale shakes his hand, extinguishing the match. “I made one type of sauce for everyone. We have whole berry cranberry sauce …”

“The classic …” Crowley says with an approving nod since that one is his favorite.

“Cranberry relish for Anathema, cranberry chutney for Newt, cranberry compote for Madame Tracy and Mr. Shadwell …”

“What even is the difference?”

“Vinegar. And some nuts.”

“Ah. Kind of like the difference between Madame Tracy and Mr. Shadwell.”

Aziraphale raises a scathing eyebrow at his husband. “Shush, you.”

Crowley waves him off. “What else ya got?”

“Cranberry gelatin for Wensleydale, though I’m struggling over whether or not I should move that to the dessert section; cranberry ambrosia for Pepper …”

“See, now, I bet she made that one up … ooo, it has marshmallows …”

“… cranberry marmalade for Brian, I even got jellied cranberry sauce for Warlock.” Aziraphale gestures distastefully in the general direction of said abomination and sneers. “You know, that stuff that keeps the shape of the can?”

“Nnngh …” Crowley leans closer to examine it, but not too close. “Bloody American.”

“Quite,” Aziraphale agrees.

“I honestly think you should have made everyone bring their own cranberry concoctions if they’re going to make such a fuss about it,” Crowley says, reaching out a cautious hand and giving the cylindrical-shaped cranberry mass a jiggle.

“Nonsense! I volunteered to host! It’s my responsibility to take care of my guests!”

“I’m guessing that explains the seven cakes, three huge tubs of potatoes, four puddings, and … how many different kinds of salad?”

“Fourteen,” Aziraphale says smugly, “but who’s counting?”

“Not me.” Crowley steps behind his husband and wraps his arms around Aziraphale’s waist. “Everything looks spectacular. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale leans back into his husband’s embrace, inviting a squeeze.

“So, what do you have for a main?”

Aziraphale melts into the warmth of Crowley’s body, that demonic heat that simmers constantly beneath the surface of his skin like a well-fed furnace, and for a moment, his mind goes blank. “Hmm?”

“Your main course. What did you pick this year? Ham? Turkey?” He gives his husband a little wiggle. “Duck?”

Aziraphale opens his eyes, staring unblinkingly into the void ahead of him, that gorgeous warmth enveloping his body plummeting sourly to his feet. “I’m sorry. C-come again?”

Crowley chuckles, in on the wicked joke he’s sure they’re sharing. “I get it. I get it. Keeping it under wraps, I see. Big surprise. All right, then, all right. I’m willing to wait. It must be good if you won’t even tell me.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale tries to mirror his husband’s mischievous laugh, but comes off sounding more like a sick porpoise instead. “Yes, it is. It is … good.”

“Well, I commend you all your hard work.” Crowley kisses the crown of Aziraphale’s head, unaware of how cold it has become. “I’m very proud of you.”

“Thank you, my dear. A-always nice to hear.”

“I’m going to go finish getting ready.” Crowley gives Aziraphale a final squeeze, then heads off to the bedroom, leaving behind an angelic corpse since Aziraphale’s soul has left his body. Aziraphale waits until he hears his husband’s footsteps enter the bedroom and the door shut behind him before his soul reconnects with his brain …

… and he freaks out.

“No!” he screams hoarsely into his hands plastered over his face. “No no no no no! How could I be this stupid!?” His face snaps up, and he stares at the ceiling above him. “Don’t any of you answer that!”

He’d been so wrapped up in accommodating everyone - and in his own inflated ego at how well he’d been accomplishing it if he’s being completely honest - that a main course had completely slipped his mind. Seven cakes, three tubs of potatoes, four puddings, fourteen salads, more stuffings and vegetables than they’ll ever be able to pack away, even eight bloody dishes of cranberry sauce! He spent more time on the gosh-darned cranberry sauce than he had a single other dish on the table, but somehow he’d thoroughly forgotten a main dish! No turkey, no ham, no fish - not even a Cornish game hen!

And the first of their guests is scheduled to arrive …

Ding-ding-dong! Ding-ding-dong! Ding-dong ding, ding dong!

Their festive doorbell, cheerfully chiming out the chorus of Jingle Bells, sounds throughout the flat, it’s sense of dramatic timing so perfectly unparalleled, Aziraphale could almost believe that the Almighty had rung it to mess with him.

But no. His luck isn’t that good.

“That’s gotta be the Dowlings!” Crowley sings, hurrying back through the dining room to answer the front door. He pauses to give his husband an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a congratulatory smack on the rear. “Again – wonderful work, love. Truly top notch.” Then he continues on.

And Aziraphale listens, paralyzed to uselessness by his own humongous faux pas.

“Warlock! Mr. and Mrs. Dowling! What a pleasant surprise!” Crowley greets the arrivers. “And right on time! Wait till you see the meal Aziraphale has thrown together! It’s taken him all day …”

Aziraphale tunes out the rest after he hears Crowley usher them inside, take their coats, and threaten to lead them straight to the dining room.

Aziraphale has no time to fix this. He’s officially run out. He’s got eight frickin’ dishes of cranberry sauce but not a single second to spare! In the end, he’ll have to miracle up something! They can’t eat a dinner entirely of side-dishes. But for the moment, with the Dowlings headed his way, he hasn’t a clue what to do, doesn’t know what to say. So before they walk down the hall and meet him, before he’ll have to acknowledge their presence with a bright, uncomplicated smile, handshakes and small talk, he spits out the only word he can think of that properly expresses the emotions spiraling through his head like a migratory goose caught in a wind turbine, flailing fruitlessly in an attempt to escape.

“Fuck!”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #31 days of ineffables #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #frankie writes

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darklingichor · 4 years ago

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Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

Buckle in kids, this one has my analytical muscles flexing!

I always said that I absorbed some of this epic through osmosis. GWTW is my mom's favorite book and one of her favorite movies. I remember wandering in and out of the living room at least once a year while she watched it. I would listen with half an ear as I played in the other room. A movie so long as to have an intermission just couldn't keep my attention as a kid. Of course I knew the story, just like I knew the story of a lot of fairy tales that I'd never actually had read to me. I didn't actually sit down and watch the movie in it's entirety until I was in my 20's. I liked it. It was well made, the acting was great and the story for all it's wince worthy moments and the surface polishing of such an ugly period in american history, was compelling.

I've never been able to get through the actual book. The reasons are going to sound a little silly. When I was younger, I thought : Why read it? I know the story. Tara is a plantation pre civil war, Scarlett lives at Tara, she's spoiled, she marries out of spite, gets widowed, Atlanta burns, she and her family become poor after the war, "As God is my witness, I shall never be hungry again" she works hard, almost loses Tara, she marries for money, saves Tara, works hard, is widowed again, marries again, rocky relationship, a child passes, "Frankly my dear, I don't give damn", end credits. In between she pines over a guy she can't have, and manages to be all around an unpleasant person in general. Done and done. I was probably too young to read it then anyway.

When I got older and realized that a book could be complex with horrible things in it. I thought I should read it. But, every copy of the book I seemed to find had tiny tiny print and no paragraph breaks (the later being a a typical writing characteristic in the past). Even with my glasses I have a hard time reading a book in that format. I skip lines, reread lines, I always end up,with a,pounding headache. No matter how good the story it's hard to get into when you can't physically read it. I had the same problem with Little Women. I eventually got through it but it was difficult.

Well, now there's audible. For once, I didn't have a book I was chomping at the bit to listen to and I thought: Why not? I listened to other books I couldn't get into for whatever reason. So, one credit and 48 hours (spread out over the last three weeks) later. I made it through.

Let me say, this novel is rich in language, as in it is well written and has much to analyze. But every time the n-word was said I flinched. Every time a black person was infatlized, or threatened, I felt angry, I was pissed off by the caricatures and happy slave narritive. Everything I have read about the author points to her evolving her views on black people after her novel, which is good. However, it doesn't make the characterization of black people any easier to read. There are racist things in the book, writing about a bunch of well to do people in the antebellum south, I'm not sure how an author could avoid it without Clorox-ing history, which honestly, she did enough of with her mythical view of the way enslaved people were treated and felt. It was a narrative I often heard in school, in the PNW, in the 90's.

The story went that depending on where someone fit into the hierarchy of slaves, some were well treated and loved. Because of this, when emancipation came, some slaves were afraid to be, or didn't want to be free. This of course served the purpose of making an awful period in US history seem softer than it was. "Sure it was bad, but it wasn't that bad."

As I studied more, this viewpoint was replaced with a "Nope, this was just bad, as in monumentally criminally bad."

I think Mitchell, when she wrote the book, thought she was being accurate, but considering she learned her history from veterens of The Confederacy, it is not surprising that she was wrong.

Because of the one dimensional way that black people were written, it's hard for me to really dig into the symbolism of their characters. I'm only marganially good at this, as you will soon see.

I will say this: I liked the book for many of the same reasons my mom gave me for loving it. For it's descriptions and it's style, for it's symbolism. I like it for it's depiction of a culture in flux, of the impact of war for those on the home front, of the all too human condition that one never sees one's self as the bad guy. I do not like it for the characters. Rhett is an asshole, Ashley has a lot in common with a wet towel, only less interesting. Melanie is okay but can at times, give one a toothache. Scarlett is a brat. The glorifying of a time when people owned other people is disturbing, full stop.

It was those parts that made me profoundly uncomfortable and I had to remind myself over and over that this was a novel about civil war Georgia and the rich people that inhabited it before, during, and directly after. This was how those people would think, talk and behave. It was wrong then, it's wrong now.

Now, I'm going to look at the symbolism in this book because I found it facinating.

Gone with the wind is far more complex than I thought when I was a kid or after I watched the movie. The collective consciousness holds Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara's romance to be the heart of the story... But it's not. Scarlett herself is the heart of the story. Honestly, Rhett driffs in and out when Scarlett needs either a dose of levity, a hard dose of truth, or a leg up on a hard fight. He doesn't rescue her, he helps her get the tools, and shows her the path to rescue herself.

Scarlett is an odd character. She has so many good points and bad points that she is nearly neutral. She's self-centered, but will fiercely care for and look after those she considers family, or as she calls them "my own". She will, on the surface ( for as the book says, it was all surface with her) resent every step taken, dollar spent, or moment given but she will keep doing it. She's opportunistic and ruthless with it, but she doesn't do it for the hell of it, she does it when backed into a corner. She's inpatient with her children, but her actions show that she loves them. She wants to do right by the social customs she was raised with and that the South cling to even after the war, but she's far too practical to pay them any more than lip service unless they fit her purposes.

Katie Scarlett O'Hara *is* rural Georgia. The colors that are always used to describe the land and Tara are red, green, black and white. In Scarlett we have described, red lips, green eyes ("without a hint of hazel"), white skin and black hair. She often wears these colors as well. Scarlett grows and changes along with Georgia and in fact, the reader is treated to the change of Georgia in a way that makes it more important than the changes of the characters. There are long stretches of discription of Georgia, especially Clayton County where Tara is. Long passages of the feelings of Georgia's people, before, during and after the war. Scarlett's life story from age 16 to age 28 are placed in between, and I have to think that the composition of the book was deliberate (I've never read any literary analysis GWTW, this is just me rambling).

Scarlett is told by her father, early in the book, that an Irishman's land is like his mother. Gerald O'Hara, an Irish immigrant, goes on to tell her that this kinship to the land is the same for anyone with a drop of Irish blood. In Scarlett, this goes further, for not only is the land her mother, she is,truly it's daughter.

Since she only swims in the shallow depths of her mind, she is unaware of her deeper waters. She does have them, she just pays no attention to what lives there. Weirdly, what lives there is what truly moves her. Early in the book the reader is told that although she didn't know it, she loved Tara, she was at peace there.

Nature is neutral,nature doesn't care about wars, politics or customs. At her core Scarlett doesn't care about these things either. Throughout the book the reader is told, that Scarlett doesn't care about anything that didn't directly affect her. This is true, and she is called out fairly often by other characters for being self-centered. However, her selfishness has a different feel than say, Bella Swan, Veruca Salt, or various other literary brats.

Scarlett feels less like one only,out to further her own interests and more like one who is trying to maintain her niche in her environment. For a living thing to thrive, their environment must support them. When an environment changes, the living thing either adapts or dies. Scarlett adapted.

Unable to convince Ashley Wilkes to break his engagement to Melanie Hamilton, being more obvious about her feelings for him than she thought, facing shame and questions to her reputation that would devastate her social standing and also possibly damage her family, she took swift action. She married Charles Hamilton, Melanie's brother. Why? It would shut up those who thought her in love with Ashley, thus saving her reputation. Plus, she figured it would hurt those she saw,as a threat to her. Like a river wearing a path around a tree, she avoided the obstical and continued on.

So if Scarlett is Georgia what about our other big characters?

Rhett is change, and time, like Scarlett he's nearly morally neutral.

Ashley is the past, he's the southern gentleman that the culture out grew.

Melanie a sheltering force. She reads as sweet and proper, but is always supporting Scarlett, even when her choices do not line up with the social system.

So, let's look at each of these characters in relation to our green-eyed force of nature.

I’m going to start with Ashley. Scarlett is fixated on him from the beginning. One can make many arguments as to why. He’s the only man not falling all over himself to get her attention, he very much represents the white knight to her, having “fallen in love” with him when he rode up to Tara after being away from Twelve Oaks, the reason as old as time, because she can’t have him, and her father says he’s not a good match for her. All of these are true, but to look at it from the symbolism angle:

Scarlett is Georgia,. The land and the plantation culture, she’s comfortable in her world at the start of the book. She doesn’t care at all about the war. It’s something that’s happening around her, something she is dreadfully bored by. Ashley represents that comfort, being with him means keeping things the same, staying the girl who only has to worry herself with parties, and being a plantation wife. Life would be slow and easy.

Time goes on, when everything goes wrong and Tara falls into poverty, Scarlett adapts. This girl who only a few years before married a man to save face, had never expected to work, now has to bust her tail trying to keep everyone fed. She wants Ashley, still, because she desperately wants to go back to that past, to where things were simple, to where hunger was not an issue.

The problem is that, Scarlett views Ashley through a haze of sentimentality, and Ashley is, himself, the embodiment of rose tinted nostalgia. He is not like Scarlett, longing for that time, but functioning in reality. He cannot exist outside of it; he’s not wishing for a time when all he had to do was talk books and philosophy with Melanie, he is of that time and he can do nothing when its gone.

Ashley Wilkes is an embroidered cloth of the antebellum south. He's the neat picture that faces outward, the pleasent part that the one weilding the needle wanted people to see. What is hidden is the web of threads criss-crossing each other, the nests of string, the knots and the things those messy parts tell of. The pricked fingers, the broken threads, the bent needles, stitches that were undone, tangles. The work and the pain that went into making that pretty picture look effortless. In short, he's what Scarlett and others at the start of the book thought of their culture and society. The work of the slaves was just simply there, what mattered was the result. Scarlett, like the society at large, had to let that go, face what it was. Not a shining example to return to, but an impractical relic of the past.

Rhett on the other hand sort of drifts in and out of the awareness of the main characters, He is always sort of there. He sees the writing on the wall, knows that many of the social conventions are on their way out and nudges Scarlett in the direction she wants to go in anyway.

After Charles dies, and Scarlett is in mourning, tradition dictating that she wear black, Rhett buys her a green hat and tells her he will take it away if she has it dyed.

When Tara is about to be lost, and Rhett refuses to give her money, Scarlett, without shame and with ruthless practicality, steals and marries her sister Suellen's suitor.

Why? Because she knew that Suellen would not have used any of the money she might have come into to save Tara.

Scarlett then takes over her new husband's business. She has a talent for it, and does well. Rhett encourages this unconventional behavior by lending her money to buy a sawmill which she runs.

This loan is interesting because it has a condition. He loans her the money as long as it isn't used to help Ashley.

This could be seen as an opportunity that would only really work if not given over to the conventions of the past. This plays out some what when it turns out that Ashley really sucks at doing... Well anything useful, really.

When Rhett and Scarlett eventually marry, he is proud to have a smart wife.

Rhett, as change, sees that Scarlett can and should break free from the social expectations that hem her in, when she does, she tends to do well. They are prosperous. What gets her in trouble is her constent looking back, pineing for Ashley, for the past that never was what it seemed, and the lost future that never would have been what she thought. Case in point, Scarlett and Rhett have Bonnie, who Rhett adores, Scarlett seems contented in her marriage. Then what happens? Ashley tells Scarlett that he is jealous of Rhett. And Scarlett promptly demands that she and Rhett sleep in separate rooms.

Later, we continue to go all soap opera when Scarlett and Ashley share an embrace and Ashley's sister, India, spreads a rumour of an affair. Melanie kicks her out of her house, but Rhett has heard. Enticements of the past impeding the progress to the future.

Rhett is near his breaking point with Scarlett and her focus on Ashley. He forces himself on her. Change trying to force itself on the culture through a vile and violent act. That is not a way to move forward, however.

Scarlett becomes pregnant, argues with a fed up Rhett, and falls down the stairs, losing the baby. Scarlett doesn't want anything to do with Rhett after this happens, understandably. A lot of change made in violence is resented and rejected. This leaves Rhett at a loss.

When Bonnie dies (it could be argued that she represents a new south, one that is not held back by convention, but is ultimately killed by the strong hold that those conventions had on the culture) Rhett is broken. And just when Scarlett is willing to embrace change, Rhett decides to leave, to find his own version of south that Ashley had been clinging to. This could be interpreted a couple of different ways. It could be seen as, that change is brought about by time and acceptence, and that the lack of the latter means that the former will not be effective and pass you by. Or, and this is the interpretation that I prefer, the fact that time, in regards to culture, repeats. Every generation has experienced this. You spend your youth laughing at the way things were done “back in the day” maybe even proclaiming that when you’re older, you won’t talk about “Kids these days…” but then one day you find that everything that was familiar to you has become outdated and you don’t understand, and therefore don’t like what is happening now and you find yourself wishing for the time when you were so sure and you understood everything. Ashley represents a past after a major upheavel, Rhett, is simply the march of time that every now and again will turn around and walk backwards to see where he’s been. Now, one could argue that Rhett is going to end up like Ashley, afterall, he’s looking for his past again. But I feel that Rhett is retreating into the past because of the trauma he experience in losing Bonnie and giving up on Scarlett. It’s a respite, rather than a permanate state of mind, like it is with Ashley. Ashley’s mind was always in the more idealized place, no matter the circumstsnce. It was the war that rattled his viewpoint of the world. Rhett is grounded in reality, he just wants to go home. Ashley is a rerun of an old tv show, Rhett is a nostaligia inspired reboot.

And Melanie. Ahh, Melly, silk wrapped iron, she is.

If this book has one "good guy" it's Melanie. If Ashley is pulling Scarlett (Georgia) back and Rhett is marching her forward, Melanie is a sheltering force, and Scarlett's counter point. Melanie has a streanth of her own and it is a perfect compainon to Scarlett's straightforward determination. While listening to this book, the phrase "speak softly and carry a big stick" kept coming to mind when it came to Melly. There are times that a soft spoken assurance, a politely worded insistence can be more powerful than anything else and Melanie shows that. The two prop each other up. When Scarlett kills the Yankee that invaded Tara, she helped bury the body. When Scarlett is demanding and short-tempered in regards to work being done around Tara during the lean times, Melly backs her up, but sweetens the tone. It takes a quiet fortitude to keep the peace in a way that still allows for getting things done and Melanie enables Scarlett to do just that. She knows the ins and outs of society rules and can weave her way through them with more ease than Scarlett. As such, she recognizes when Scarlett has to bend or break those rules to ensure the family's survival and knows just the right way to phrase it to give her sister in law enough wiggle room to keep her on society's good graces.

She Dances with Rhett for the cause even while in mourning? Melly insists she's doing it out of memory of Charlie. She does more than sit and home and be a widow? Melly points out that Scarlett is young and should be allowed some leeway.

Ashley's sister spreads a roumor about Scarlett and Ashley while the former is married to Rhett? Melly banishes her from the house.

When Melanie dies, Scarlett realizes how much she has meant to her and I would argue that it is her sisterhood and partnership with Melanie that is central to the story, rather than Scarlett's relationship with Rhett.

Each of these main characters are either rejected or leave just as Scarlett's deeper motives and thoughts float to the surface where she pays attention to them.

Melly dies when Scarlett is finally ready to stand on her own, because the social rules are being phased out, she doesn't need Melanie's gentle protection any more. With the phasing out of those rules, Ashley is outdated and unappealing and finally, Rhett and time move on, now that they have had their effect. And what is left standing is a changed Scarlett O'Hara in a changed world.

#book #books #gone with the wind #margaret mitchell #ramble #long post #thirty nine #Book blogging 2020

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