#fu’s writing

[onlysanepeoplesleep]

umm dont hate me y’all I was bored.

for: @b3achysurfur cuz you wanted smth like this I think? I know you never asked me personally but I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I decided to write it.

disclaimer: english is not my first language.

tw: death and slight blood (but like I’m bad at describing it so there’s not much.)

The day had gone like this: Alex came to her room (or prison or cell or whatever the synonym of ‘locked up somewhere against one’s will’ was called) did mandatory checkups and then stayed to chat for a bit. Not that Ashlyn participated, instead opting to stare blankly at Alex until he understood that she wanted to be left alone. And once he did (quite dense, he was) he left without a word.

Finally being alone for the few minutes or hours (she never knew the time anymore) before twelve, she worked on devising an escape plan. She knew they couldn’t escape via window, mainly because no one was allowed permission to leave the cubed room without guards following them. Ashlyn was aware that leaving through the alternate dimension wouldn’t help either, since their bodies stayed tethered to its original spot.

A pain to work with, yes, but not a nuisance. She could find a way, somehow, and she would. She wouldn’t let her friends stay in this weird asylum place any longer than they had to. By any means necessary.

Ashlyn could feel her body being transported to the alternate dimension, the way her stomach dropped and her heart began to beat faster until she blinked and she was still in her claustrophobic room, but the scraping and screeching of phantoms gave away where she was.

She didn’t take long to get off the bed and made her way to Tyler’s room (where everyone had unanimously agreed to meet up the first time they’d been sent to the phantom dimension). Everyone else was already there when she opened the door and she felt relief wash over her once she saw them — as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders temporarily. They were somewhat safe — as safe as one could be in a dimension with deadly creatures out to kill you.

It didn’t take long for everyone to begin looking for a way out. They went in pairs: Tyler and Aiden (obviously), Taylor and Ben and Ashlyn and Logan. Once the teams had been made everyone was quick to split up (save for Tyler and Aiden, who were stuck sitting in Tyler’s room).

Ashlyn hadn’t been paying attention when it had happened. One minute, she had been looking through a hallway checking for phantoms with Logan behind her — and the next she’d heard him scream and drop his gun on the floor with a loud clunk. She looked over her shoulder, a question about to leave her lips when she paused.

A phantom held Logan’s face between two claws, pressing down on either side and making a sickening crunch. She winced but didn’t move. Logan was screaming, crying, pleading to her to do something, but she was frozen. She couldn’t tell if it was fear or mild curiosity that was stopping her from helping the boy.

Her hesitance paid the price in the end, with blood oozing out of Logan’s eyes and nose and ears, and one last sickening crunch echoed through the halls before Logan stilled. The phantom dropped him immediately, the manic grin on its face never dropping as it charged for her. Ashlyn’s feet finally moved, dodging the attack and grabbing the discarded gun from the floor. With a resounding bang, the phantom dropped to the floor and stayed down.

She wasn’t sure why she had to bite back the grin that was forming when she looked at Logan’s body. Claw marks were bruised into his face and the blood kept oozing out until it made a small puddle on the floor. Ashlyn tilted her head, something akin to surprise flowing through her as she blinked at the sight.

Logan was dead. Logan was dead.

A grin finally broke through her face and this time she didn’t fight it. Maybe she should feel sad since Logan was part of the team, part of the same team she’d sworn she’d protect and yet here he was. Lying on the floor looking pathetic as ever. She showed no sympathy towards him and almost wondered why, before deciding that contemplating such queries would be a waste of her time.

Instead, she walked passed Logan’s body and made her way back to the gang. They all seemed worried about the noise, asking questions and wondering if she was alright. She reassured them, of course she was alright. In fact, she was delighted!

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Tyler asked, almost suspiciously.

“Logan died,” was her only explanation before the room burst into relived laughs and celebratory clapping.

“Actually?” Aiden asked, tilting his head with a smile, “he’s like actually dead?”

Ashlyn nodded, “yeah.”

“You know what that means?” Taylor said, grin stretching into a happy smirk. “Party time!”

And with everyone’s enthusiasm, they set up a party with whatever decorations they could find (which wasn’t much, but Taylor was really good at compromising) and before long the starch-white walls had been splashed with a variation of colours from Aiden’s paints and ‘LOGAN DIED!!!’ was written on the wall with bright red paint.

Ashlyn had never been to many parties before, she could count on one hand how many times she’d attended a party willingly. But she didn’t think any other party or event could compare to the tomfoolery they got up to while celebrating the death of their teammate. Aiden started a conga line; Taylor shredded paper to throw it around the room like make-shift confetti; Ben showed them a few dance moves and even Tyler was enjoying himself.

Deep down, Ashlyn knew that no sane person would host a party for a dead comrade, but it’s been a long time since she was considered ‘sane’ and the facility they were locked in just proved it. So maybe she let herself indulge, just a bit, now that Logan was gone.

[biboomerangboi]

Hua Cheng essentially cockblocking himself for possibly all of eternity will literally never not be the funniest thing MXTX ever wrote.

Xie Lian was pretty much completely in love with him the second he saw those lanterns (and completely oblivious about it) and then we get the wonderful first kiss underwater moment and Xie Lian is basically drawing hearts around Hua Cheng every time he sees him. While like quietly dying cause he literally has no idea what to do with it. Like at this point he doesn’t even really understand that he is head over heels totally gone for this man.

Until Hua Cheng is like I have a beloved I just haven’t won them over yet. Which he thinks is perfectly reasonable because his self esteem is the worst and he doesn’t understand how he could have won Xie Lian over yet. (He’s only on step 22 of his Marrying Dianxia 3000 step Master Plan ((that he debates throwing out on a regular basis because he doesn’t deserve to even dream about wanting Xie Lian)). So course he’s like yeah I have this wonderful noble beautiful beloved I just haven’t won them over yet wink wink nudge nudge.

But Xie Lian is like oh of course obviously I don’t deserve nice things and fuck I actually wanted him so badly I’m actually in love with him and now I will resign myself to never being happy for his sake. (Their combined self esteem is truly a so low it’s a hole in the ground which is hilarious because they think the other person is to good for them and unattainable forever because they literally have the same neurosis.) So he starts boxing up his feelings forever constantly wanting Hua Cheng and feeling guilty about it and literally dying inside because he wants Hua Cheng like he’s never wanted anyone.

Like essentially books 3 and 5 only happen because Hua Cheng has now cursed them both by saying he has a beloved because Xie Lian believes he isn’t wanted and therefore any nice thing Hua Cheng does is just him being nice and not Hua Cheng pulling out steps 23-34 of his plan thinking he still hasn’t won Xie Lian over. (He has he so has but he shot himself in the foot so badly it’s painful to read).

Like thank the Gods Hua Cheng is so unhinged and created the cave of 10000 Gods cause Xie Lian would literally be at his own wedding to Hua Cheng still convinced he wanted someone else and this was in fact a thing they were doing to solve a case together otherwise.

Like he needed something that unhinged to put 2 and 2 together otherwise he never would have caught on he’s Hua Cheng’s beloved. Meanwhile Hua cheng is like 🥺 he’s going to think I’m a weirdo now and I’m only on step 50 of the plan 🥺 like the two of them wouldn’t have been fucking nasty 2 books ago if he just kept his mouth shut and didn’t cockblock himself so violently.

[physalian]

10 More Character Types the World Needs More of

Part 1 was specifically character dynamics, but I’m considering this a sequel anyway.

1. Fiercely independent character’s lesson isn’t to “trust people”

I’m not projecting. You’re projecting. There is a divide wide enough to fit the Grand Canyon between “trusting that someone isn’t lying” and “trusting someone to follow through on a promise”. Most dumpster fire attempts at these characters (almost exclusively women) rely solely on mocking them for the former because “not all men” or something.

Being consistently let down in life makes you hesitant to a) gain friends, b) pursue romantic interests, c) maintain familial relationships, d) get excited about any event that demands participation from someone who isn’t you. None of this is simply a bad attitude—it’s a trauma response. There is no lesson to be learned, and not even exposure therapy can help because it’s a real, legitimate, and common stunt people pull, whether they mean it or not.

So write one of these characters and legitimize their fears, give them someone who proves the exception to the rule, but do not let the lesson be “well they just haven’t found the right person yet”. Even the “right person” can let them down. It's about not becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy by sabotaging a good thing to prove it will inevitably go bad.

2. Conventionally attractive men who aren’t horndogs

I’m going to find every way I can to tell you to write more aces. This is to fight the stigma that attractive people must be attracted to people. Give me gorgeous aces and demi’s, men, women, enbys and everyone in between, who put a crap ton of effort into looking their best, and yet happen to not have a very loud libido. They look good for themselves, and not to impress anyone else.

Give me someone who could have anyone they wanted, gender regardless, and just simply has no interest. Or, they do actually have a significant other, but sex, how hot their partner is, or how horny they are, isn’t their internal monologue. I don’t even care if it’s unrealistic, it’s annoying to read.

And, you know, giving men male characters who aren’t thinking about sex all the time can be good, right? Right?

3. Manly warrior men who also write poetry

A.K.A Aragorn, Son of Arathorn. Just give me more Aragorns, period. This dude is either covered in filth, blood, guts, and the last 30 miles of rugged terrain, or singing in Elvish at his own coronation while pink flower petals fall. A man can be both, and still be straight.

A man can also drink Respect Women juice, you know? He ticks off all the boxes—he’s gentle when he needs to be, not afraid to hide his emotions, kind to those who are vulnerable and afraid and need a strong figure to look up to, resolute in his beliefs, skilled and knowledgeable in his abilities without being arrogant or smug, and the first boots on the battlefield, leading from the front.

4. Characters who are characters when no one is watching

This is less a specific type and more a scene that doesn’t get written enough. This whole point comes from Pixar’s Cars. I. Love. This. Movie. It’s not Pixar’s best, for sure, but this is my comfort movie. The best scene, one that’s so unique, is when Doc (aged living legend) thinks he’s alone when he rolls out onto the dirt race track and comes alive tearing around the oval.

This character’s unbridled, unabashed glee and euphoria at proving to himself that he’s still got it, when he’s completely unaware of his audience, is perfection. Not enough credence is given to characters to just… enjoy being themselves. He’s not doing it to prepare for the climactic race, he’s not doing it for the plot, he’s doing it just to do it, not even to prove Lightning wrong—just for himself.

Give your characters a “Doc Racing” scene. Whatever their skill is. Maybe they’re a dancer, a skater, a swimmer, a painter, sprinter. Just let your character love being alive.

5. Characters whose neurodivergence isn't “cute”

A.K.A. Lilo Pelekai from Lilo and Stitch. Really, her relationship with Nani is peak sibling writing. But Lilo herself is just so realistic with how she interacts with the world, how she interprets her relationships with her so-called friends, how she organizes her thoughts and rationalizes what she can’t quite understand, and how friggen smart she is for an… 11-year-old?

But she’s not “cute”. As in, she wasn’t written by generic Suits who were trying to cash in on the ND crowd by writing what they think will sell, but also making her juuust neurotypical enough to still be palatable by the rest of the audience. Lilo’s earnestness is what endears her to everybody. But also, she doesn’t get a free pass for her behavior, either. Her “friends” aren’t forced to accommodate her and Nani isn’t written as the cold-hearted villain for trying to discipline her.

6. Straight male characters with female friends

Am I double-dipping a bit here? Yes. While I completely understand how tempting it can be, this type of character is in dire need of exposure and representation to prove it’s possible. No weird tense moments, no double-glances when she isn’t looking, no contemplations about cheating on his girlfriend (and no insecure jealous girlfriend either). Just two characters who enjoy each other’s company and are able to coexist in a space and be in each other’s spaces without hormones getting in the way. Peak example? Po and Tigress from Kung Fu Panda.

Let these two rely on each other for emotional strength in times of need, let them share inside jokes, let them have a night alone together at a bar, at home, cooking dinner, getting takeout, talking on the patio in a porch swing… with zero “will they/won’t they.”

7. The likable bigot

I’m actually on the fence with this one but it’s something I also don’t see done often enough and I’m adding it for one reason: Bigots aren’t always obvious mustache-twirling villains and the little things they do might seem inconsequential to them, but are still hurtful. So showing these characters is like plopping a mirror down in front of these people and, I don’t know, maybe something will click. They don’t have to be MAGAs to be dangerous, and only writing the extremes convinces the moderates that they aren’t also the problem.

Example: I have a “friend” who recently said something along the lines of “I have lots of gay friends” followed up shortly by “I don’t think this country should keep gay marriage because it’s a slippery slope to legalizing pedophilia.” You know. The quiet part being that she *actually* thinks being gay is as morally abhorrent as being a pedo. But she totally has lots of gay friends. Including one who was driving her during that conversation. (It’s me. Hi. I’m apparently the problem, it’s me.)

She’s absolutely homophobic, but the second she stops announcing it, she’s a very bubbly person. She’s a ~likable~ bigot and thus thinks she can distance herself from the more violent ones.

8. The motherly single father

I say “motherly” merely as shorthand for the vibe I’m going for here. “Motherly” as in dads who aren’t scandalized by the growing pains of their daughters, and who don’t just parent their sons by saying “man up boys don’t cry”. Dads who play Barbie with their kids of either gender. Dads who go to the PTA meetings with all the other Karens and know as much if not more than they do about the school and their kids’ education.

Dads who comfort their crying kids, especially their sons. Dads that take interest in “feminine” activities like learning how to braid their daughter’s hair, learning different makeup brands, going on nail salon trips together. Dads who do not pull out the rifle on their daughter’s new boyfriend and treat her like property. Dads who have guy friends that don’t mock him and call him gay. Dad who does all this stuff anyway and is *actually* gay, too, but the emphasis is on overly sensitive straight men’s masculinity here.

Wholesome dads: a shocking amount of single-parents to female anime protagonists.

9. The parent isn’t dead, they’re just gone

Treasure Planet is an awesome movie in its own right, but what’s even better? This is a Disney movie where the parent isn’t dead, he’s just a deadbeat who abandoned his son and isn’t at all relevant to the plot beyond the hole he left behind for Jim to fill. The only deadbeat dads Disney allows are villains and those guys are very vigorously chasing an aspiration, that aspiration just doesn’t include quality fatherhood. Or motherhood. Disney has yet to write a deadbeat mom, I’m almost certain.

I just wrote a post about the necessity of the “dead parent” cliche, but what is perhaps more relatable because it’s more common, and what earns even more sympathy and underdog points for the protagonist? The hero with the parent who left. Then there’s a whole extra layer of angst and trauma available when your hero can now plague themselves with the question of if the parent leaving is their fault. Death is usually an accident. Choosing to abandon your kid is on purpose.

10. Victim who isn’t victim-blamed or told by their friends (and the narrative) to forgive their abuser

Izuku Midoriya lost so much support from me the moment he told his friend, bearing the consequences of domestic violence across half his face, that Midoriya thinks he’ll be ready soon to forgive his abomination of a father. I am firmly in the “Endeavor is a despicable human and hero” camp and no I’m not taking criticism. I audibly gasped when I heard this line and realized Deku was serious. Todoroki needs friends like the Gaang to remind him that he's allowed to hate the man who's actions caused the burn scar across his f*cking face.

I understand that the mangaka apparently didn’t anticipate the vitriolic backlash toward Endeavor during his debut and reveal of his parenting tactics but the tone-deafness of telling a fifteen year old with crippling emotional management issues and a horrible home life that his abusive dad in any way deserves and is entitled to forgiveness on the grounds of being related is disgusting.

Take it back further to a more famous Tumblr dad: John Winchester. Another despicable human who got retroactively forgiven by his sons after his death in a “he wasn’t so bad, he really did try” campaign. It’s one thing if the character believes it, it’s a whole different matter if the narrative is also pushing this message.

Katara is a perfect example: She lets go of her grudge for her own peace of mind and stops blaming Zuko for something he had no hand in, stops blaming him simply because he’s a firebender and he’s around to be her punching bag. She doesn’t forgive the man who killed her mother, because that man doesn’t deserve her forgiveness. Katara heals in spite of him, not because of him, and had she let him off the hook, she would have gotten an apology for getting caught, not for what he did (which is exactly what happened).

[budd-ie]

I like to imagine Xie Lian checking in on heaven every once in a while for business or something and now that heaven barely has a central government and people are more relaxed without any one scary force up their asses all the time he sometimes comes back to some pretty weird stuff. After all, every god is a nosy drama queen and everything has the potential for a competition. Imagine if one day some smaller martial gods got bored and started an arm wrestling contest and whoever won started bragging about it which caused some other martial gods to want a piece of the action. Because every martial god is overly competitive by nature, this eventually gets weirdly out of hand and now the top martial gods are having the most legendary arm wrestling tournament in history. Xie Lian walks in in the middle of it, bewildered; “Oh, no thank you, I couldn’t possibly, I should be quick, San lang is waiting for me—“ he answers but a simple “come on, your highness!” and a recap of the latest events is all it takes to convince a top martial god to give it a shot.

Across the room, Feng Xin just obliterated another round and is on a crazy hot streak. His spirits are high and he’s ready for his next victim as he looks across the table, and the opponent in his view is none other than Xie Lian.

A cold sweat runs down his back.

Of course it ends with Xie Lian vs Pei Ming, the grandest showdown they’ve seen in a great while, and Xie Lian going home that night to that San Lang of his with another weird heavenly trophy to put in the display case they had to make for all these weird prizes he keeps bringing home from work. Who knew gods really are more idle than ghost kings!

[spacedace]

Okay but the Justice League finds out their new baby hero teammate Phantom is the Ghost King by virtue of the Fright Night showing up while they're in the middle of a meeting, looking terrifying and such and scaring the shit out of everyone- even more so when Constantine starts freaking out over the fact that the sworn night of the King of the Infinite Realms is in the Watchtower what the fuck that's apocalyptically bad Pariah Dark is supposed to be locked the fuck up forever - but instead of trying to smite them all or yeet them into the nightmare dimension he just pulls out a space themed packed lunch??? And gives it to Phantom??

And the mildly eldritch giant murder ghost is talking about how "The Queen Mother commanded me to ensure you ate my Lord, she says you missed your morning meal."

And Phantom is just grumbling about over protective sisters and "there's a cafeteria i would have been fine" what the fuck is happening right now?

What do you mean "oops you forgot" Phantom I thought the ghost thing was just a theme!

[byoldervine]

Writers, tell me about your story in the dumbest way possible

I’ll go first:

Superhero princesses save the world with the help of that one straight white guy who’s just happy to be here, couldn’t have done it without the fortune of a white woman defying all the odds by deciding against a gender reveal party

[soldearestsoulmate]

Something small that doesn't strongly relate to the update/spoilers for now? (really had the urge write for Sol again. So here we go. lol)

Sol x GN!Reader

Sol lightly fidgeted and squirmed in his seat. He was trying to stay calm but it was hard to. Especially with you sitting across from him, looking at him, staring at him...Your attention completely on him, as you worked to try to draw him.

"Sol...Relax? We've done this many times now." You chuckled as you lightly added some strands of hair on his portrait. Really enjoying drawing his hair...But then went to work on the eyes more. Which already had enough work done as is. But it could never compare to the real thing. His eyes were just...perfect to you.

"I know...I just...You're so beautiful it's overwhelming in times." Sol turned away as he muttered that last bit. Making you raise a brow, then leaned over close to him to gently grab his chin, to make him turn his head back to you. As you gazed deeply into his eyes, just to examine them again for the drawing.

Sol felt his heart race rapidly now, as his face turned a deep shade of red but didn't move from your touch. If anything, he leaned more into it, his eyes lowering, half lidded, clearly enchanted by you now as he gazed back at you.

"Keep looking at me like that and I might drop this drawing just to kiss you now, you know?" Sol only hummed in response to your words. As he grabbed your hand now, freeing himself from your grasp. To then gently kiss your hand, sighing out softly in content.

Now it was your turn to blush hard and feel your heart race.

"That wouldn't be so bad...Your hand need a break anyway, pumpkin~." He smirked as he kept your hand close to his face now, taking in your warmth...and scent.

"I've only been drawing for a few minutes?" You bit your bottom lip lightly, trying to hold back a smile but failed terribly.

"A few minutes far too long to me..." Sol didn't waste anymore time as he cupped your face into his hands, pressing his lips against yours softly. Then waited to see if you'd return the kiss before proceeding, then smiled when you did.

You broke the kiss for a moment, but Sol tried to chase you. Whining from the loss of contact. "Fine...Just...a small break. Then back to drawing you. Understood?"

Sol response to that was to kiss you again, only more deeper this time. It surprised you, enough to earn a moan from you, which Sol got excited from as he kissed you more. Then pulled you in to make you sit on top of him and straddle him, practically closing off any distance between you two now.

"S-Sol?!" He chuckled at your reaction to this, kissing your neck now and nibbling at your any exposed skin he could find. Then proceed to give you more stronger bites, to leave his mark on you, causing you to whimper.

"Mine~...All mine~..." His hands gripped onto the sides of your waist, pulling you in closer as he lightly started to grind against you now. Making your body heat up from the action and friction. All while you tried your hardest to stay quiet from this all, but it was to no avail.

His grinding, on top of him continuing his kisses and bites on your neck, shoulders, anywhere now honestly. Made you putty in his hands now, as you soon enough were a whimpering moaning mess before him. Which was music to his ears~... 💚

[mournfulroses]

Luo Fu, translated by John Balcom, from a poem titled "The Wound of Time,"

[disgracefulthings]

SVSSSxTGCF AU where Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was an actual god before he transmigrated as Shang Qinghua, but was executed by the other gods after Xie Lian's 2nd banishment. Hundreds of years later Xie Lian reunites with him in Ghost City (Shang Qinghua is trying to secure an alliance with the Ghost King for the Northern Palace), however Airplane does not remember his time as a god

Edit: Forgot to mention, he was executed because he created Heavenly Demons

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

overpowered pre-teen magicians that grew up to be friends with magical guardians? also, magical doggos! ;D

[asoftepiloguemylove]

unknown // Mo Xiang Tong Xiu 天官赐福 Heaven Official's Blessing // リップヴァンウィンクルの花嫁 A Bride for Rip Van Winkle (2016) dir. Shunji Iwai // Odysseus Elytis The Axion Esti // Nayyirah Waheed Nejma // ENHYPEN Blind // unknown // Franz Kafka Letters to Milena // 今際��国のアリス Alice in Borderland (2020-) dir. Shinsuke Sato // unknown // Anna Akhmatova The Road is Black // unknown // 刻在你心底的名字 Your Name Engraved Herein (2020) dir. Patrick Kuang-Hui Liu // unknown

[wonderb0n]

Do you guys think that if Shi Qingxuan had called the right name, things would have ended differently? Even the slightest possibility?

I remember thinking when I first read the novel that SQ's plea, so raw and desperate, had managed to reach HX. I felt it in my stomach. A spark of mercy that shattered the instant they called the wrong name.

That's also something that catches my attention. HX said you called the wrong name instead of saying idk anything else to refute SQ's pleas (everything would have been valid, honestly). I felt like, in itself everything that happened was worthy of his fury, not being called his real name was just the last straw. But why would it be if it's not because he cared?

[biboomerangboi]

Hua Cheng is just so iconic to us because he is in fact a tumblr girlie. Notebook filled to the brim with sketches of his blorbo. Info dumps galore. Maximalist fashion to the nines. Outfits based on accessories. Has all of the genders under one big shapeshifting trench coat. Hates the ruling class. Excuses every problematic thing his blorbo does and stands by them in the group chats. Insane reaction to people who dislike his blorbo and says mean things about them, burning temples is the doxxing of his time. He belongs on here with us.

[bloodandthestars]

・✧ — 𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

tags: NO SPOILERS!, antihero! reader? i guess?, mention of blood, takes place before across the spider-verse, will be edited, one mention of something sexual but nonetheless mdni anything else I’ll let you read to find out <3

author’s note: helllooooo everyone! this is the longest thing i’ve written for my blog yet. he’s been rotting my brain heavily and i needed it to spill out somewhere. do let me know if you enjoy what’s implied and if you’d like more. a lil vague incase there is a future series. I love this but at the same time……anyways- translations and taglist are at the bottom of the post. enjoy!

wc: 4.5k :: masterlist next

BZZT. BZZT.

“Miguel,” You purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“It’s Important.”

It always was. “…And what kind of call is this?”

“Work-related.”

You hum. “Pity.”

“You still have ways into Oscorp?”

“Always do.”

“Good, I got a job for you. Meet at the usual spot at 9.”

A chill runs down your spine from the light wind passing through the night. You awaited your contract atop the Alchemax building, looking down at the neon lit city below. It was bright with cybernetic blues and greens, every now and then you could hear a hover car or two whirl by, only to miss it blend into the rest of the blurs flying by. The sight could never bore you, not in how it could change every day. That was the nuance of Nueva York, after all. Nothing ever rests, not even the wicked.

Nor the man that lands behind you with a thud of his feet and a slight grunt. He walks to your side in silence, taking in the city as you do. The sharp points of his eyes narrow. “You’re sure you’ll be able to get in this time?”

You turn to send him a look. Your hand raises as a drive twirls around your finger. “If you thought I couldn’t, you wouldn’t have hired me.”

He lets out a dry huff you take as amusement. His head turns to look at you. “Alright, you got me there.”

You barely catch the way his hand flies out to grab the device from your hand. His reflexes were always quick, but in this rare moment, you were just a bit quicker. Your hand is mere centimeters away from his in the air, catching you both in surprise. Your shocked expression slowly turns to one of accomplishment. His mask shifts, but knowing him, he was deadpanning under it. You chuckle, placing the drive in a pouch among many holstered onto your thigh. His eyes drag up from it’s placement to your eyes. You place a hand to your hip. “You ready?”

He places a foot to the edge of the roof. “Will you be able to keep up?”

Now it was your turn to huff, placing a prepared foot out as well. “Always.”

He gives you a final look, a lingering one you can’t quite place your finger on. He takes off and you’re quick to follow. The route felt routine to you both at this point, jumping over small spaces between buildings that eventually begin to stretch in distance. Your feet rush in a dash, swiftly jumping over over air conditioners. Miguel takes to running on the side of the buildings before webbing back to the rooftops alongside you. The two of you move when a roof entrance divides you, the heroine using his webs to ease his momentum after jumping over another conditioner back to your side. You slide under piping, coming up to jump in unison to the final rooftop. He lands on his feet, while you need to roll to slow yourself down. Both of you rise at the same time, looking up to the greenly lit skyscraper with geometric lettering spelling ‘OSCORP’ on its side.

“Which floor?”

He responds with a nod to the higher top of the building. “84th.”

You tilt your head to think. “We’ll have to climb the back side of the building. There are enforced windows starting at level 80.”

You feel a hand on your waist, causing your head to whip in his direction. You had to crane your neck slightly to meet his eyes. “Thought you said this was work-related?”

“Hush, descarada. You know what I’m doing.”

You roll your eyes, discontent with him ruining your fun. You hook your leg at his waist and he moves his hand to lower back to keep you stable. With one arm he’s able to secure you at his hip. You hook your arms around his neck and you both look up at each other. Curse how close he is and the way his voice gets low to affirm to you. “You good?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

His free hand shoots out a web, not wasting time with flying through the air. No matter how many times you’ve swung with him during an operation, your grip still tightens around him in a sudden jolt once you’re flying through gravity. The rush used to take your bones in a wave of nausea, but now it’s all adrenaline that flows through your body. You hoped that was why your heart quickened just then.

Miguel goes by your instructions, swing to the back of the building. From there, he gets you both to the windows of the 80th floor. You let out a breath of relief at the emptiness of the lab. Pulling your gadget from your other thigh holster. It had a metal hook at its end and with one push of a button, it closes in its claws for something thinner with a green light atop it. Your thumb rolls back the dial on its side, clicking another button. In a green flash, the two of you are inside the lab floor, silent and desolate. Your gadget goes back to your thigh, turning over your shoulder for any signs of trouble.

“Are you ever gonna tell me where you got that thing?”

You turn to look at him, a playful shrug rolling off your shoulders. “You looking to buy one?”

He sets his hands in the air, immediately shaking his head. “Nevermind-”

“I mean if you really are looking to, I can get you set up-”

“No, no, I already know wherever you got it, I don’t need nor do I want to know.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Miguel? Breaking one of his rules— what was it again?” You place a hand under your chin. “Oh yes, ‘don’t ask questions’?”

“And you’re all the more reason why the rule still applies.”

You both reach the emergency stairs however, a handprint was needed to unlock the door. You pull a small glowing blue rectangle that looks similar to glass. A press of your thumb and a hologram emits from it. You give it a swipe, the image shifting through dozens of handprints. You stop at a familiar bulky one. Facing the glass device to the lock, it takes the holographic limb into its code and clicks to unlock.

“How does it know it’s real?”

“You lurk around the underground long enough, and you’ll see that people are in the market for all kinds of things.” You place the glass back into your pocket. “Holographic or fake skin included.”

Miguel raises a brow— not to say it wasn’t possible. He’s sure that with the right elements, tools, it could be possible. But how people got ahold things like that weren’t out of the highly advanced labs he worked in, he didn’t know. The thought only made his stomach turn. Maybe he should stick to his own rules.

You both head up the steps, going from level 80 to level 84. From the window of the door, the two of you peer out to see an empty floor. It was safe to say that it seemed too easy. Only a few guards patrolling up and down in their routines. You look to Miguel, who looks right back at you. You shrug. “There’s always a patrol going on.”

He looks back to the glass. “Seems more than usual.”

“Maybe it’s because they’re starting to notice a few things going missing.”

“….Maybe.”

You tilt your head at him. “What? You can’t take them?”

His head turns to you, the red of his mask narrowing. “I can take them.”

You smile at his annoyed tone, patting his strong shoulder.

The hallway is silent for the six guards on duty tonight, say for the air conditioner buzzing in the background. Guns are held strong in their grip, pacing back and forth in their routine.

THWHIP!

Three lines of webs block the muzzles of three guns. The guards get tense, looking up to see where the webs came from. They didn’t have time to think, much less act— the lines steal their weapons from their hands, clanking to the ground along with a guard. The other three guards turn, only for their muzzles to be stuffed with webs as well. You slide past the first three, going for the second row. In your hands were clear cut batons, whacking at two guards’ knees. Your baton lets out a hard crack from an upper cut from below and dropping a guard in an instant. You use your hand to balance yourself as your calves lock around the other guard’s neck. You flip him down to the ground, landing you in a kneeled position to throw your baton into the nose of the final upcoming guard.

With a hard smack, he goes to the ground. You stand on your feet, walking over to grab the baton. You turn to Miguel, who’s got his three guards tied up. You look down to the baton, a red liquid causing your stomach to fall. Turning back, you see the guard’s nose as the source. Panic settles in your head, until you see his chest rise and fall. You let out a sigh of relief, quickly wiping the blood off of on the latex of your thigh. You look up to see Miguel, who finally turns to you after you it clean. You share a look to each other before you shrug. “Poor bastards.”

You both begin walking to down the hall to the entrance when he responds. “Never saw it coming.”

The steel doors greet you with shiny meshed reflections of your bodies. You use the holographic glass again, and the doors slide open with a cool hiss. The lab was vast, with a control center in the middle with scaled monitors larger than you both. They light the space in a light blue hue spreading to its very corners. You both approach the system after a cautious walk.

“Think it’s my turn to show off.” The spiderman pulls his wrist device into view, displaying a small gold hologram and pressing away at data.

You lean back with the computer behind you, arms crossed. “Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

“Was I showing off before?” You ask with a playful tone.

He huffs at your words, tapping away until his tech. After a moment, his hand goes out. You know he wants the drive, but making things easy for him was never something that entertained you. Your finger raises with the drive’s key ring around it, waving it. “Please?”

“Do you take anything seriously?”

“None of that sounded like please.”

You sense another deadpan across his face. You roll your eyes, throwing into his grasp. “Don’t act like you’re not familiar with the word, now.”

He starts a little, whipping his head back to the computer system. You hear him grumble under his breath, something along the lines of “-mierda, me llevarás a la tumba-”

It causes you to let out another laugh for the night, a sound that he’s gotten used to.

You watch as he plugs the drive into an insert in the computer’s system. Various windows of information pop up on the monitors, lines of words you don’t exactly understand in a quick scan from your eyes before it vanishes. It wasn’t your job to know anyhow. Whatever a client needed, whatever he hires you for, is a trade of information for his eyes only. That never stopped your curiosity however.

You look away, eyes set to the steel doors. A ponding in your chest for the unexpected, only soothed somewhat with his company next to you in the long moment of silence.

The look on your face soon narrows as he’s still at work. “Almost done?”

“Yeah, just waiting for it to give me access.”

“To?”

“A chip.” He states plainly.

You open your mouth to ask more questions, only for you to be stopped by his body tensing. You raise a brow to him and you follow his line of sight back to the steel doors. The two of you remain eerily still, awaiting what was the cause for his tension. It was quiet, but you knew better than to trust that over his enhanced senses. You both glance to each other with caution.

You start. “Is someone-”

He tenses much worse this time, on guard in a flash. “Yes, they’re outside the door with-!”

The doors open and from its crack is thrown a silver canister. As soon as it hits the ground, a clouded air is released. Your nerves feel like they’ve gone ablaze. A hiss cuts into your thoughts, causing you both to turn to the computer. A capsule releases from system, and you grab what you assume is the chip he needs. The smoke only grows larger in size. Before you can say a word, he gets close, a hand over your nose and mouth. He tells you in a low voice of urgency. “Behind the computer, now.”

You both move quickly, his hand still atop your face. Placing your backs to the monitors, you try and take a moment to regain your mind for a plan. It’s difficult when you feel your heart try to rip out of your chest. Your eyes glance up to him as his body remains close to yours, an ear out to the approaching sounds.

“We’re going to have to-”

A clank sound interrupts him as another canister lands right in front of you both. Smoke begins to seep out of it at a rapid pace. Your throat began to burn, eyes watering as you tried to force down a cough. It was no use, you erupt with the sound out of reflex. He looks to you. “Don’t-”

His spider senses take in the next one being thrown and shoves you to the other side of the lab. He kicks the second one far from either of you. When the third one flies in the air, a web grabs hold of it and throws it back over the computer, where grunts and yells could be heard. In the mists of getting control of your vision, you hear him yell to you. “Go! The stairs!”

You scrape up to your feet, and the last thing he sees of you is your fleeing backside.

Miguel was a natural in situations under pressure. He had been in labs with mixtures of chemicals that would have to be settled in seconds, fought against robots and maniacs. He could handle this.

His face remained focused, shooting out webs as soon as an idea flew through his head. The sticky components lands on a lab stool, and with a grunt, he swings it into the back of the computer monitor. It flickers in its blue light, cracking and falling in the way of the assailants. He turns, eyes darting around the environment. His eyes light up to the emergency exit, with no other choice but to push through it.

A climb of walls, a sling from webs up the steps, and the Spider-man busts the rooftop door. Whirls of technology snap his attention to what’s in front of him— light blaring in his face with a large amount of guards surrounding him.

Miguel was a natural in situations under pressure. He’s done plenty of operations, fought when the world was a blur around him hundreds of feet in the sky. A wave of guards what a slight to his determination, but his mind…was elsewhere. He removes most of their weapons out of the equation, taking them in clusters with his webs. He lands a punch here, and slam with his glowing webs there. He had yet to see you or hear you yell out to him. Hand to hand combat increased, blows getting harder in their impact, grunts slipping past his lips out of increasing frustration. It felt like there was no end in sight, not that it mattered anyhow. His mind felt as though it was sinking in the tangled ropes of his paranoia. The longer time went by, the more restless Miguel got and the more determined he was to get through his enemies with vigor.

“I GOT IT!”

You shout from across the rooftop, the chip in your clasped hand. A red and blue mask turns to in your direction, relief washing over him like a flood. Between you both were many henchmen flooding from the roof’s entrance, all set to standing in your way. He nods to you through the chaos, and you nod back. The two of you run on the sidelines until you hear Miguel faintly shout. “Get over here!”

“Working on it!” You shout back. Eyes dart through the growing group of goons to find a clear path. His eyes are set on you the whole time, watching your face as the cogs go to work.

Your eyes squint, heart beating out of your chest, but you have a plan— somewhat. You knee one person out of the way, moving through the space to shove through a few more. Two step right in front of you. Not losing your momentum, you sweep your leg under one of them and use that same leg to balance the other into a high kick. It creates somewhat of a clear path for you, trying to get closer and closer to the man you’ve been working with all night. You catch a glance of him pummeling through a few men, giving you a slight of relief and all the more determination to pull through.

You’re almost there, goons try to grasp at your suit, tools, or mask, and you’re barely able avoid their invasive touches. You waste no time pulling out your hooked tool, clicking a button to throw out a long thick wire. It wraps around the ankle of a man and you pull hard. He falls, knocking into others like pins as he’s dragged across the concrete. Your path has never been more clearer. You click your wire back into your tool, eyes catching Miguel’s.

He takes out one more enemy before jumping off of the roof. Your feet quicken, taking after him and taking your leap.

The skyscraper’s height furthered your velocity downward. Wind blew into your face, strong in its force. Your tool wouldn’t be far enough to reach the buildings surrounding you. Your body reacted, stomach twisting and turning in an effort to scream at you the very danger you were in. But you? You calmly shut your eyes.

In an instant, a strong arm catches you as intended. You open your eyes, hooking your arms around his neck to secure yourself to his body. You squeeze the device you both needed into your palm to confirm your grip. With one hand, he swings from building to building to ensure some distance between you and Oscorp. After a few more buildings, Miguel slows down to a roof with a large neon sign right at its front. The momentum fades, allowing you both to land behind the bright lettering.

You pull away from his side, hands going to your hips as you caught your breath. Your chest rises and falls with rough exhales while he was silent in gathering his own air. After a while, you catch his voice speaking to you. “You still have it?”

You swallow, nodding and throwing the device to him. He catches it with ease. His large fingers examine the data card. Gold lines so microscopic but filled with the intelligence needed for his work to protect others. He slips it away into an empty wrist capsule, eyes flickering back up to you.

You placed your back against the sign only a few steps away from him, chest slowing to normalcy. Your eyelids were low, lashes soft in their curl. He gains his focus back when your irises appear from them.

“How many times do I have to catch you staring for you to realize you’re terrible at being subtle?”

Your teasing words cause his mask to shift, knowing all too well he was displaying his usual frown. “I can be subtle. You, on the other hand, can’t turn on a filter if you had one.”

An amused smile appears on your face, causing another sudden wave of relief over him. You take a glance to the sky before looking back at him. “Yeah, but that hasn’t kept you away now has it?”

Miguel grunts, and you turn your head away with a laugh.

The back of the neon sign behind you illuminates strongly in the night, red light seeping through the crevasses of the letters to give your vision clarity. Your body regained air in your lungs but the bruising was beginning to ache from your complications from getting to the roof. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Miguel’s arm holding his side. Your brows scrunch together. Just what was so important to risk a hailstorm raised on them from Oscorp? You knew from your previous encounters, that he wasn’t just hitting the large corporation, but any place with the highest level of technology in the city.

You begin after a beat of silence. “I mean, I can’t have some idea of what you get from the jobs you-?“

“No, you don’t”

Your eyes turn to a glare. “Watch that tone.”

“You know, you being demanding isn’t exactly an ease to deal with-”

“Would you like to do something about that?” You take a step closer, looking up to his tall stature. Your gaze is set to where his eyes were, feeling his eyes look directly back at you.

“I..” His brows knit together. You know what you meant, he knew what you meant. It takes him a second to speak with a retort, locking his jaw. “…not here.”

You purposely look to his masked lips, then back to his eyes. “…Thought so.”

Miguel takes a hard and long swallow, shutting his eyes.

"So, what's the deal with that chip?" You ask.

Miguel opens his eyes when he clears the clouding in his mind. Not fully, but enough to attain what you asked. He hesitates for a moment before responding. "It's...complicated. Let's just say it's valuable and leave it at that."

You raise an eyebrow, sensing there's more to the story. "Valuable how?"

Miguel shakes his head. "I can't say. It's not safe."

You cross your arms. “What we did tonight, or what we do every other night for that matter, isn’t safe either.”

“I know that but-” He lets out a sigh of frustration, his mask fading off his face in squares of blue light. Words never were his strong suit and his paranoia didn’t help his case on which words to choose. Or for you to know what he has planned. You were different, he knew that. And yet, he still eyed you with caution. It was in his nature.

You look him the eye, knowing he was weighing his options in his head. His jaw relaxes, voice settling into a softer tone. “I’m doing what I’m doing to protect people. All the things I’ve had you get? They help with that. You know I’m not- building some criminal empire or making some kind of genetic super weapon-”

“Really? Because those were only two of my theories-”

“I’m not-” To others, they would take his tone as immediate annoyance. But you know it’s laced with a slight of amusement that immediately disappears.

He hopes it’s enough to satisfy you, to keep you out the possibilities of pulling into a growing web of complications. But he knew you just as much as you did him, both akin to an unshakable stubbornness.

“I think you can do better than that.” You step forward into his space again. His larger stature is unmoving, but he could feel warmth radiate from your body at the familiar closeness. His eyes go down to yours, crimson irises slowly loosing their sharp edge the longer your gazes are on each other.

“We said we don’t owe each other anything…no matter what we do with one other. And I get that.” You tilt your head at him. “But if more jobs end like tonight, and I can barely catch an escape-“

He’s quick to respond. “I won’t let that happen-“

“-But if,” You emphasize. “That starts to become an occurrence, I at least want to know exactly what I’m sticking my neck out for.”

He looks to your features, scanning over your unwavering expression. You can’t help but look at the way he presses his lips together. Miguel locks his jaw to think, perhaps he’d do so in order to keep the words from coming out. Eventually, he lets out a sigh. “A super computer.”

Your face scrunches, brow slowly going up. “A…super computer?”

He mutters, still looking down at you. “Yes.”

“To protect people?”

“To protect people.”

His voice was firm, supposedly closing the door as quickly as it opens. You study him, trying to go over your past jobs to try to piece an explanation together. Sadly, you couldn’t. The path you’ve gone down, your lives beginning to intertwine like a binding threads— you knew that finding out what he was up to would be wary road.

Eventually letting out a sigh, you’re disappointed but understanding. "That’ll do I suppose.”

He watches you take a step back from him, back leaning against the sign. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that he follows suit. You both look out to the vast city, lights greeting your wandering gaze once again. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes before you speak up. "You know, for someone who's always so serious, your fleeting sense of humor is enjoyable.”

Miguel huffs, chuckling soon after. "Is that your way of saying I'm not as boring as you thought?"

You grin, a sight he appreciates after your tenacious standstill. "Oh I’ve never found you boring. In need of a good fuck to let loose? Definitely.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of enjoyment in his tone. "I'm plenty loose when I need to be."

You laugh. "Sure you are. That's why you're always so tense."

Miguel smirks. "I'm not tense. I'm focused."

You give him a playful shove. "Whatever you say, Spider-man."

translations: descarada (minx), mierda, me llevarás a la tumba (fucking hell, you’ll be the death of me)

taglist: @manchuria @mezzke @rea-zxv @vvitcxen @pooiooi @jowtaro @coleseyebrows

[carpetbug]

welcome to the beginning of my ML Feline Blue AU!

in which Marinette is forced to become guardian before ever wielding a miraculous. Chaos ensues when she uses the black cat ring to become feline blue and through a silly little turn of events, Adrien gets his hands on the ladybug earrings and becomes beetle rouge

BIIIIIG thank you to my lovelies @isabugs and @thimbleb3rries for being so kind and encouraging, for their WONDERFUL ART OH MY GOD, and for beta-ing this!

The beginning: Becoming Guardian

1 • 2 • 3

“You’re not going to beat me like that, old man” The looming figure taunted.

Hunched in a ball before him, a much smaller elderly man struggled for breath. Blood trailed from his mouth, combining with his saliva to messily drip from his lips as he fought for air. Just by the effort he had to put into continuing breathing, he could tell this was not a fight he could win. Still, his fists clenched in defiance as he pushed himself from the floor and steadied himself upright on his feet. His spine screamed in protest and searing pain at the task, but he managed to remain standing.

“I know I can not beat you, old man” He coughed, hands trembling slightly. “But I must continue to fight”

The taller man scoffed before taking a step forward “I’ll make sure it's the last thing you ever do, you pathetic excuse of a guardian” He spat, tightening his grip on his cane as his rage boiled beneath his skin.

“I’d expect nothing less from a villain like you, Hawkmoth”

“No need to act like you’re so much better than me. After all, we've all made mistakes, haven’t we Master fu” Hawkmoth sneered.

“Leave my past out of this. I’ve worked to fix what I have broken, you only aim to destroy” Master fu panted, feeling his shoulders to check if his bag was still on his back, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he felt the thick material. Next his hands slowly traveled to support and feel the bottom and sides of the bag, searching for an object. He took another relieved breath when he felt the item's weight, and then he prepared himself for the worst. Bunching his muscles, he sprang into action and bolted away from Hawkmoth.

He focused only on moving forward, getting as far from this wretched evil as he could before time ran out. When he finally collapsed, legs giving out from under him in pure exhaustion, he found himself at the Pont de Arts, above the seine. Hawkmoth was nowhere to be seen, but master fu knew that was only a false sense of security. The villain would find him soon enough. He needed to find someone. Anyone.

“-ir? Are you okay?”

A voice. Master fu looked up, vision shaking just slightly. In Front of him stood a teenage girl, dark hair pulled back into pigtails and eyebrows pushed together with worry.

“Sir? Can you hear me?” She asked with a panicked look in her eyes. “How can I help?” She stepped closer and offered him a hand.

Master fu gathered his strength to pull his bag from his back and carefully draw open the zipper before reaching in to pull out the contents. The girl watched intensely, eyes following his pained movements. He pulled a large dark wooden box from the bag and held it close to his chest, then brought his eyes upwards to meet her face. “I’m sorry, young hero” He said sadly, then joined his hand to hers before she could respond.

An intense feeling washed over him, and he closed his eyes to take a deep breath. This girl was strong. He hoped she will forgive him for the burden he will make her bear.

She flashed an anxious smile “That’s okay, and I promise I’m no hero. Just a normal g-” He cut her off with a sharp tug, then slammed the box into her chest. She gasped as he knocked the air from her lungs, clearly not expecting such a feat of strength from the battered man. As she fought to breathe, Master fu gathered the last few remnants of his strength and lifted the girl from the ground. “I, Wang Fu, hereby relinquish the Miracle Box-”

“Stop! What are you doing!?”

“-and name Marinette Dupain-Cheng the guardian” His body lit up, skin glowing as the box between them lifted upward and burned like a star in the air.

“How do you know my na-?!” Before she could finish what she said, the box dropped back into her hold and the elderly man -still glowing like some sort of deity- held her over the railing and dropped her into the rushing water below. She hit the surface with a loud splash, getting thrown under but quickly resurfacing a few feet away, miracle box still in her arms.

The last thing she saw before being pulled away by the fast moving current was the man falling backwards to the ground in exhaustion as the light emitting from his skin dimmed.

Master fu slowly blinked his eyes open, carefully taking in his surroundings with an expression of pure shock and confusion on his face. He seemed so frail, all of a sudden. Like he had lost all his fight.

“What did you do?!” a booming voice hissed behind him. He started to turn his head to look, but something beat him to it. All of a sudden, a hand tightened around his throat and picked him off the ground, nails digging into the thin skin of his neck.

“What- what’s happening?” Master fus strangled voice hardly escaped his lips. He tried to thrash his legs, do anything to get free, but a fatigue he couldn’t explain had overcome his muscles. Weakly prying at his attackers hands, panic began to set in. There wouldn’t be any escape. “Who are you?” he managed out in a pained mumble.

“I am the next guardian of the miraculous” the seething voice responded as nails began to break through his skin. “I am the consequences of your greatest mistake” the words rang through his head as his vision went black, and sickeningly warm blood poured from his throat.

Marinette struggled to hold her head above the surface and keep the container in her grasp as the river pulled her this way and that. Her mind raced and her lungs screamed, everything inside her begging to let go of that weird old man’s weird old box and save herself instead. Still, her grip remained glued to the sodden wood, as if she would rather drown than set the box free to face the waters’ wrath. Nothing was making any sense. And despite the deafening chorus of the racing water that surrounded her, the only thing ringing in her ears was the man’s words.

He had called her a hero. He had entrusted her with something clearly important to him. He had thrown her into the seine. He had been badly wounded. He had been a complete and utter stranger. What did everything mean? Suddenly, her feet felt solid ground beneath her, and she hurriedly moved to follow it. She pushed forward, focusing on reaching the bank that lay on the other side. Eventually Marinette was able to pull herself and the box from the water onto an empty platform beneath a bridge.

As soon as she was safely out of the water, Marinette threw herself backwards in exhaustion. She laid against the cool pavement underneath her and passed through all the events that had just occurred. What the fuck was this ‘miracle’ box? And why was she the ‘guardian’? Ignoring the new aches in her body, she sat upward and brought the box closer to her.

There she sat for a few moments, toying with the lid and gently tracing the intricate pattern displayed. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened it.

“HELLO YOUNG MASTER” A loud chorus of voices rang out as a beam of light emitted from the open container and what looked like small differently colored masses of stars flew all around her. Marinette fell back onto her elbows, overwhelmed at the sudden sensory overload. Her vision was a blur of nauseating colors accompanied by what she could only imagine to be auditory hallucinations.

Before she had a chance to speak, to catch her breath or try and scream for help, the almost magical colorful masses slowed until they were still, then began to morph into a solid form. Marinette watched, intrigued and terrified, as these small creatures took shape in front of her. They each seemed to be a different animal, though they all shared an alien-like anatomy. Some had tails, others long whiskers and a few antennas. Two of them caught her eye, a sleek black cat and what she thought to be a ladybug (though it looked much more like some sort of bug-mouse combo).

As if the creatures could read her mind -which they could, for all she knew-, they began to speak in sync. “WE ARE THE KWAMI, MAGICAL BEINGS THAT CAN BESTOW POWERS UPON OUR WIELDERS.” They said, in an almost sing-songy voice.

“AND YOU, MARINETTE, ARE OUR NEW GUARDIAN.”

[tangeerin]

Lord Shen.

Me inspire en la frase "A red sun rises, blood have been spilled this night" de Tolkien.

Hay algunos detalles que faltan corregir pero no tengo la paciencia de hacerlo.

Este es el dibujo que más me costó hacer.

No tengo idea de composición ni nada de esas cosas. Lo que hice lo hice porque según yo de veía bien.