#just LOVES to fake his death & create an entirely new identity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

robotlesbianjavert · 9 months ago

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I've seen some theorise that Tomura decaying represents "the death of tomura shigaraki a being of hate and the false persona created by afo" which means that tenko shimura is free and can live again (considering the roles names and identities play in mha). What's your opinion on that?

hard disagree especially considering the story is now trying to sell us that "tenko" is also an afo construct, from his family struggles to his heroic hopes to even his fuckin birth lmao. i fall in line with what @codenamesazanka said about 'shigaraki' and 'tenko' as personas here, where despite afo's influence there is something real. it's weird to say that shigaraki is false because of afo's influence when what we learned is that tenko as a whole exists because of afo's influence. both of them have gotta be real or fake or nothin.

but i would have disagreed even without the 419 development. i never agreed with the interpretation of there being a clean break between tenko and tomura. shigaraki's frustrations and desires stem from what he experienced as a child, even with the amnesia; tomura's formed his own relationships and goals beyond afo; he straight up has just spent more of his lived life as tomura than he did as tenko. SHIGARAKI is the character that i first fell in love with, because he's enough of a full, charismatic, and engaging character on his own without being reduced to a crying child.

i'm also kind of so-so on whatever people might be saying about names and identities? i think that there is importance there, but it's not that going by one name or another indicates entirely discrete personas. i don't wanna do an in-depth thing about it, but i pulled a couple of quotes about the whole hero/codename thing to reference.

What future do you see for yourself? The name you choose will bring you ever close to cementing a certain image…because names are capable of reflecting one’s true character.

Aizawa, Chapter 45

the phrase "cementing a certain image" could be interpreted as trying to put up a false persona, but "names are capable of reflecting one's true character" messes with that, because it's the new hero names that are meant to represent that truth. more accurately, i'd say that hero names evoke an idealized self that the students are learning to embody. midoriya reclaims deku, tsuyu as cutesy froppy is meant to be approachable, shoto is trying to self-actualize as himself, bakugou wants to murder people with explosions, kirishima and iida are trying to live up to their personal heroes, etc etc.

at no point are the kids trying to be something that they aren't. they're working towards who they want to be.

if one wants to argue about different names symbolizing different selves/personas, the best example is probably all might/toshinori, who does literally do his hero work as a separate persona up until kamino. but most of his story afterwards is that learning that just because he no longer as one for all, the power that made him all might, doesn't mean he actually stops being a hero/all might. as badly demonstrated by him donning that dumb fucking mecha. in any case he more or less reconciles those parts of himself i guess.

in contrast, we have this more recent lore about codenames:

There basically used to be no difference between heroes and villains. One theory says…the alias stuff started when you’d have an anonymous enemy and needed to call them something. From there, some decided to adopt those very nicknames to hide their identities. Assuming another identity - like a new skin - was a matter of survival. At some point, they went all-in with code names, ripped straight from comic books. According to this theory, it all started with people announcing themselves by those aliases. That’s why the world’s turned into a comic book.

Shigaraki, Chapter 393

here we do have the claim that adopting a new name is similar to adopting a new identity, which lends itself to the idea that you're trying to escape an original/true self, or protect that self from harm. spinner, twice, and dabi are all in ways trying to reinvent themselves, to escape or separate from the things that hurt shuuichi, jin, and touya. mr compress it just stylish. that doesn't stop who they WERE being a part of who they ARE, though. there's also no way for them to go back to who they were, it's just part of them.

it's also really interesting that toga and shigaraki explicitly did not take on villain names (because shigaraki tomura isn't a villain name, because one, this is before he recovers his memories as tenko and two, literally just his name, that he lives every day with.), because they make no pretense about approaching villainy as anything but themselves. this is toga's whole deal, that she wants to live in the world as herself without compromise.

overall, i'd approach the idea of names + identities the same way i approach the running narrative thread about 'origins'. in a sense these origins represent a "truth" about the characters, but it's not that these origins are the only true thing about them. the origins act as a starting point, a reminder of what the characters value and what they want to do. it's grounding, not all encompassing.

anyways nah shigaraki was never anymore false that tenko is and that's that i guessssssssss no matter what. the story says.

#bnha bloggin #bnha 419 /

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mrxcreepypastamadness · 6 months ago

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Here's my official reveal of King Virtual, no it's not King Candy/Turbo from Wreck-It-Ralph, at all.

King Virtual

Inspired by: Mr. Virtual created by Stupendous Snart

Appearances:

• Candy Land (Original King Kandy)

• Friday Night Funkin': Sugar Rush Madness V2

• Jubileena's January Night Massacre (Upcoming)

• Vs. Sugar Hallow FNF Port V1 (Cancelled)

• Candy Land: The Great V1RTU4L Experience (Upcoming Candy Land Creepypasta)

• Curse of the Crimson King (Upcoming)

• Friendly Enmity (AU upcoming.)

Aliases:

• Mr. King Virtual (most commonly/Non-Canon name)

• King V

• King Vlad the V

• Vlad

• Vlad the Halocaust King

• The Crimson King

• Various Fake Identities

Affiliation:

• Torri Ferdinand (Police officer/Enemy)

• Sammy Henderson (victim)

Age:

• 63 (at time of death)

• 102

Species:

• Human (formerly)

• Poltergeist

Gender: Male

Height:

• 6'3 (Human)

• 14'5 (Current)

Weight: ???

Eye Color: Black

Date of Birth: 666 A.D.

Date of Death: October 13th (Day of his execution ordered by a new King that saved everyone from mass extermination.)

Place of birth: ???

Occupation:

• King/tyrant ruler of his crimson kingdom (Formerly)

• Serial Killer

Debut: Friday Night Funkin': Sugar Rush Madness

About:

King Virtual is a Virtual Boy oriented EXE inspired by Mr. Virtual. He is the antagonist of the upcoming horror series "Curse of the Crimson King" and "Candy Land: The V1RTU4L Experience".

Biography:

King Virtual was once a normal king and a tyrant simply under the name "Vlad the V", he lived a life of struggle and torment before one day he snaps, burning down his whole entire kingdom and watching the halocaust of those he knew die before his very own eyes, the screams of his subjects, servants and peasants caused him a sence of pure bloodlust and euphoria, and this down life of a sinful act, becoming a ruthless dictator and serial killer once again under the alias of "Vlad the V", his killings would involve him mutilating his victims in various ways, and carving a large satanic temple symbol on their chests before burying them in secret locations.

His killings caught attention to King Thomas Ferdinand the III, who immediately took action, started a war in hunting a psychopath, who, after months would eventually be caught in October 13th, the war would lead the king to Vlad into the dungeon where he can be current held for awile until his Judgement Day, where Vlad the V would be eventually executed, burning him on a stake he was tied to, and eventually Vlad the V would bring a curse upon everyone where he would be possessing a Virtual Boy console, where they would be showing of the latest "Virtual Boy" System.

Unknowing to Torri Ferdinand, Vlad the V's soul would become tethered to the system in death, transforming a red gangly and seemingly shapeless poltergeist.

Months after his death, Vlad the V takes the name "King V", a giant phantom which took a twisted form of King Kandy, having renounced his previous life to attain one singular goal, Kill Officer Torri Ferdinand. He wasn't yet aware of his abilities till an unsuspecting Sammy Henderson had played a very system he inhabited, this allowed Vlad the V to follow him, just as he did to his previous victims, which lead him to attempting his old halocaust ways, Sammy would experience months of nightmares and unexplained origins and paranoia, till one day, he was able to see him, then he struck, He mutilated not his physical form, but the very soul that inhabited his body, leaving it a mangled corpse of what once was "Sammy Henderson", in doing this, he was able to replace him and tether his form to the body of Sammy, using it as a vessel, the feeling of flesh, the smell of the air, it was all familiar, but completely foreign to him at the same time, he has returned to the physical plane, and he LOVED it...

But this feeling, this vessel, it would fall short, as only mere days after he attained his new body, it would begin to rot away, the skin peeling off, the face deteriorating into a grotesque smile which matched that of his new face, and then, without any warning, he was back in the headset, he had stayed tethered to the cursed object he had made a curse with, and he was no closer to achieving his goal, however, with a newfound knowledge of his abilities, he would just need to try again, and again, until one day, Ferdinand would die by his hands...

Voicelines:

Friday Night Funkin'; Sugar Rush Madness (Hellish Hollows):

• "Would you like to try again?

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

• "HMHMHMHOHOHOHAHAHAHA!"

• "Such a Bold Knight in shining armor, yet...such a frail mind...HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

• "Thank you for freeing me...

BOY..."

• "Now you can truly be with your Girlfriend...FOREVER..."

Gallery:

King Virtual (GF form)

#friday night funkin #mario's madness #creepypasta #candy land #candy land oc #creepypasta oc #mr. virtual #paranoia #hasbro #wreck it ralph oc #exe oc

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fallstaticexit · 10 months ago

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11, 12, 17!

11. Why have you decided to tell this story? are there any messages or meaning within it?

When I was in elementary/middles school, I was pulled into fantasy story telling by reading my fav series of all time; His Dark Materials which I think shaped my entire life/personality since the day I checked the series out at my school library lol. I've always had a love for fantasy storytelling and the ability to create an entire universe just from you own wild imagination. So being able to do the same brings me such a joy and relief from the chaos of today's world. I actually wrote a story yeeaarrs ago called Jack Calico, Pirate Princess (about a princess of a colonized island that was invaded by pirates who then decides to fake her own death during an invasion to escape the crushing duties of the throne to join a pirate crew under the new identity of Jack Calico). I reference a good bit from that story in my current stories and even expanded it on more with the added Supernatural elements too it.

I like to think there's a message to my story, I certainly love to hear what others take from it and how they interpret things. That's actually my fav type of storytelling: allowing readers to pull meaning and message from the world I created. 🥰

12. Do you actually play the game or do you just use it as a storytelling medium?

I actually got this genius idea from @herecirmsims on twitter to have 1 save for gameplay and 1 for storytelling that really changed my life I swear lol. Before, gameplay and storytelling was all in one save which was beyond frustrating when my characters would start acting like the Sims they are and do crazy out of characters stuff that I would have to fix for the sake of storytelling. Now, I have a save for both and when I'm in-between posting updates, I'm having a more relaxed gameplay session.

17. What about the process do you hate?

Posing & pose shopping lol It's more of a love-hate thing but sometimes, I want to rip my hair out. Luckily, I've been practicing with creating my own poses for those one off random scenes but even that can be just BLAH too time consuming when I just want to post the story already. 🥺

#ask #ask game #cotf tag #thank you for asking :)

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ghoodles · 1 year ago

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I saw a post like this and so i decided to chose from the playlists i made for Sparrow's first and second arcs that i associate with the arc

So lets get on with it :3

PS-A1- Digital Silence, Just Take My Wallet

Digital silence-

Just like- the entire idea of the Spider-Society and Miguel just fits into this song. I see it as the canon events, because first of all, it's normalized of it just "being how it is and always should be" and even though its like- its not good! People they care about are dying in order to 'make them a better spider' and everyone knows that, and they just let it happen, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Just take my wallet-

Sparrow, throughout the entire arc, has lost their family, has lost their version of gwen, and, has lost themself, because of the canon. It took away their brother, it took away his girlfriend. She's lost their support system, and yeah, he gained another through the society (specifically Noir) but it doesn't dampen the loss, especially because at the end they get kicked out of the society.

PS-A2- Your Obedient Servant, Just Leave Me Alone

Your obedient servant-

Throughout the around two weeks Sparrow was gone, two new vigilantes showed up, The Prowler and Venom, and essentially stole their spotlight. (even though he doesnt want it, it still kinda hurts, and a bit frustrating cause 'Well shit i cant go home, this is literally the only thing i can do!') Sparrow is not happy about this, at all.

Just Leave Me Alone-

Sparrow goes through it this arc.. And she gets so tired, so stressed, that she begins to start snapping whenever people begin to reach out. She's in mourning, and denial has finally ran out.

Other songs that can really go either way- Dinner Is Not Over, You're Nothing Without Me, Create A Creature, Mama's Boy

Dinner is not over-

Throughout the arcs, Sparrow's mental health suffers. I mean, seeing your brother rush into the flames of your burning house in an attempt to save you- you who was perfectly out of harms way, sealing his fate and faking yours, can kinda do that to a guy!! And, there has been multiple times where he forces himself to continue, because "its not over yet."

You're nothing without me-

Ive ranted about the idea here, but essentially, Sparrow has no identity outside of being The Pumpkin-spider, at least, in their universe. Because of his 'death,' she has no legal records, she is dead legally. So, who is he if he decides to take off the mask? Nothing. He is nobody, a dead man walking.

Create a creature-

Okay less serious but ITS HALLOWEEN THEMED AND SO IS HE SO FUCK IT WE BALL

Mama's Boy-

Sparrow has grown up with just her mom, nana, and brother. She loves them all dearly, however, especially during their days as the pumpkin-spider before the fire, their relationship became especially strained.. He wants that connection back, especially after the fire, but he cannot talk to them, its all over the news that she did it, even though it couldnt be further from the truth.

#atsv #across the spiderverse #spidersona #sparrow 'cherry' wilson #We love him #(he's traumatized)#and itll only get worse baby!!#someone give him a hug #he needs it #she's just like me fr #i mean obviously #she's my spider-sona after all #there's so much angst in A2 and A1 #that is literally 2 weeks and three days combined #someone give this kid a break

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alyss01 · 2 years ago

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|[Peer pressure]|

[Rae x GN! Reader]

Genre: action / very slightly angsty

Request:

could I request some undercover comfy cartel reader x rae? if that's okay!

Word count: 5K

Warnings: physical fighting, guns, shooting, hints and mentions of blood, betrayal, hint of torture (small), mafia themes

Synopsis: losing yourself in a job was easy when undercover, that is until you get a surprising order and meet a friend once more

A/n: Okay so I’m not dead, just very busy with uni. This took a while to write with multiple writing blocks, and I’m very happy it’s finished.

Masterlist

As a kid you'd loved reading, fantasy, fiction, non-fiction, the genre almost hadn't mattered to you, as long as it was a story of some sort, you'd been happy to read it.

As a teenager you had loved acting, playing a role of someone not yourself, imagining yourself as a character made up in a story, a narrative, not your own. It was a hobby, but you knew you had a talent for it, though without any activities to put your practice into, the skill laid dormant in the back of your mind.

Some had called your progression of life as 'going of the tracks', 'taking the wrong path' or anything else giving the same definition. Your friends became estranged, ties melting like snow exposed to a summer sun. They never entirely knew what your life had come to, and they didn't need to know.

By now, you were a different person from back then, quite literally in a way. A different name, different acquaintances and habits that were switched out like cards in a rigged poker match. In a sense your childhood had all alluded to this, a place where your talent would be appreciated and put into use. Becoming a new person with each job, becoming a character in a story created by someone else, following the perfect narrative that would lead you to your success.

Jobs changed, faces differed and to most of the world you were gone, vanished, maybe even dead. In the underworld it was different, regardless no one knew you, but they knew of you. Like a black hole, they knew you had to exist, though had never been able to prove it.

"Y/n, are you even trying to pay attention?" Toast's words were harsh as you looked up, meeting serious eyes staring into your soul. Often you had questioned who the real leader of the cartel was, Don Scarra or his right-hand man Disguised Toast.

"I just don't get it, I got back like two seconds ago. That job took me a year, can't I catch a break for one minute?" Toast rolled his eyes; undercover jobs were your expertise, so it really wasn't all that surprising you'd be sent out again. The one reason why Toast hadn't promoted you as the head of the undercover section was because the cartel couldn't miss you in the field.

The sole reason that your existence was one of the biggest questions in the underworld was what made you so powerful. No one knew when, or where you'd hit. They didn't even know the cartel you belonged to, or if you were a gun for hire, though that admittedly was thanks to Toast's efforts to keep any and all information about you concealed.

This job would be a long one, it was something both you and Toast knew, yet somehow it was all contained in the small folder in front of you on the table in the meeting room.

"You got back a week ago and this can't wait anymore, we need you out there covering our backs and there is no one in this cartel able to keep this up as long as you can." He was right, you knew that Toast wouldn't feed your ego like this if it wasn't necessary.

Silently you nodded your head, opening the file to see your own face, but with a different name, age and story. Toast crafted the stories of your identity’s; he made them come to life with the help of different sections of the cartel. He had a multitude of identities laying around, creating them through time and keeping them alive till they were needed and would be given a face.

It didn't happen often a job would entirely be finished, most often it ended in a faked death, or something to give you a reason to disappear off the stage. Last job, one of the smaller but fast-growing cartels was taken down, crumbling down on itself at your hands and there was no reason to explain a disappearance, as the entirety of the cartel disappeared instead.

Taking the file with you, you stepped out of the room, coming face to face with Rae as she was about to come in. In the cartel, during the off times you were actually there, you had always been the closest to Rae. She was the red string of fate that had drawn you to the cartel, scouted you, in a sense. It had started off small until eventually you had received your first job for the cartel and from then on, everything spiraled into what it had become now.

"Hey! I see Toast filled you in, I'm really sorry that you've got another job so close to the last." she looked actually apologetic as she stepped back to allow you to pass.

There was a shrug of your shoulders, "there isn't much we can do about it." she gave you a smile, your chest heating up at the sight of it. There hadn't been a moment where her smile wouldn't have the same, ever-lasting effect on you, and you smiled back as she passed you into the door. Maybe there would've been a chance for you, if only you didn't need to leave for a new long-lasting job the moment you get back.

In a sense it was ironic, how the same thing that had brought you two together meant your separation as well.

You left after that, there wasn't a lot of time to prepare for the new job you received, so it was important to start quickly. Rae helped you get through all the details, both of your alias and the goal. Leaving again was never something you looked forward to, after all these people were your family.

The slow knock on the door, despite the lack of footsteps heard in the hallway, told you who came to visit you. Your suitcase was packed, and tomorrow you'd head off to the apartment you would live in for the next while.

"Come in Rae," the door opened quickly and closed just as fast as she stepped in somehow her silent footsteps always seemed to surprise you, "what brings you here?"

She gave you a small smile, allowing herself to fall into the chair across from you, "Why wouldn't I come spend time with you once in a while, especially if you're leaving soon again."

One of the hardest parts of your job was returning from it, returning to yourself after spending such a long time pretending to be someone else. It was hard not to get lost within the character you played, trying not to do something you'd regret later.

"I'll talk to Toast about giving you some sort of vacation when you return, maybe we could go to Japan together? I heard from Lily and Micheal it was a great getaway. I think you'd enjoy watching the blossoms." You hummed in response, leaning back as she continued talking. It was nice to just be able to listen sometimes, and somehow Rae seemed to sense when you needed it. You were grateful for her.

"Oh! We should try wearing a kimono when we're there actually, I've done it once before while we were there on a job. Don't even get me started on the food, I'll make you try the best dishes when we're there, do you prefer savory or sweet more?"

Time passed quickly, and before you knew it the moment of your departure had arrived. The job started, and except for brief reports, your contact to the cartel would cease.

Within a few days, just as Toast predicted, you were contacted, and the stage was set. The job had started, no matter how many times you'd done it, you always surprised yourself with the ease that it took to slip back into it.

It started with some minor, easy jobs, being watched and staying watchful. Gaining someone's trust was an art in itself, but after having done it time and time again it was just part of the routine. Staying with the same people, shooting who they shot, and following commands.

It took a few months before you reported back for the first time. Toast wasn't necessarily happy with the slow pace of the operation, though he knew as much as you that quality took time. He was patient, most of the time, but the more time it took, the more opportunities would be created for mistakes. He preferred the ease of quick missions sometimes over the long games of cat and mouse other operations took.

"They'll do fine, I don't see why you're being so inpatient, that's nothing like you." Rae stood in the door opening, Toast sliding the file to the end of the table for her to take a look at.

Flipping the lock on the door for the confidentiality of the case, she read through the short and straight to the point report you had written, "What do you want me to say? They're good at what they do."

Reports came on the occasion, with continuously longer times in between. You had been absorbed in your work, slipping on the edge of a character and reality more often as time passed. It happened with these jobs, and though you trusted yourself to be fine, it still made you anxious inside.

Instead of laying low, which had been the plan originally, due to circumstances you had created a name for yourself here. Your reputation grew with the number of jobs you had taken care of, and though you didn't officially rise in rank, you rose the social ranks of the cartel.

Gaining respect and confidence as more and more time passed, reports were procrastinated and forgotten.

You had become the character in every sense of the word. Never had a job taken this much patience, this much time. There were no moments for recollection, no moments to doubt as the life of the cartel raced past. According to the plan you were maybe halfway, yet it had already taken you a year and a half to get to this point. At least 6 of those months had gone by without any mention towards the cartel.

Heavy footsteps reached the door, the knocking was hard but patient, and with your hands hand your gun you yelled for them to open the door. You had gotten home maybe six hours before, barely with enough time to shower, scrub the scent of gunpowder of your skin and sleep.

They had picked you up for a break in, nothing unusual essentially, but as you stood up you could feel your gut twist in a foreboding sense. Either telling you something was very off, or something would go horribly wrong. It was something that had grown with you as you raised through the ranks of the cartel.

Ignoring the feeling for now, you stepped out of your home, the location of which had changed a few months into your acceptance to the cartel as they moved you to a more secure area closer to the base. In the van, familiar faces awaited you as you had often worked with them in the past months. Explaining the job, the goal, and the plan as it moved, different weapons were thrusted in your hands in preparation.

It looked more familiar than it should have, though that should have been something you realized sooner. Not whilst you were inside, looking into a surveillance camera a mere millisecond before your bullet landed within, shutting it down permanently.

They never told you whose warehouse it was, not that you suspected they would if you'd ask. The unfortunate souls that worked and guarded the place found their fate similar to the surveillance camera as you went in to grab what you needed and got out. Essentially, you had only been there as a bodyguard in the first place, any and all useful information wouldn't have found your ears anyway.

"Are you seeing this?" Toasts voice was loud, growing louder as he spoke, Rae, Sykkuno and Corpse sitting across from him as he showed them the surveillance feed, your face looking straight into the camera before it shut down. He had paused on your face, showing them there wasn't any doubt.

The three of them nodded their head, it didn't look good for your situation. Toast had long been pissed about the lack of reports coming from you, and his agitation had only grown as they watched the surveillance of their robbed warehouse from two days ago.

They had confirmed you were still alive but at what cost? Had you turned to their side, left them behind in favor of a new life?

"It could've blown the cover if they didn't participate." Rae had done her fair share of undercover jobs over the years and knew the lengths one would have to go to at times to stay hidden.

"What about the reports then? They've missed two, at the VERY least." Toast was usually calm, calculated and one of the most patient people in the cartel when it came down to it. He never tolerated any traitors however, so if you were to leave the cartel it'd be a hard hit.

"What if there hasn't been time to write them, or no opportunity to communicate?" Corpse hadn't interacted with you too often, but he knew your skills, your reputation.

"That would be giving them the benefit of the doubt, but is that a risk we can take?" Sykkuno spoke up, watching as the other reacted to his words before continuing, not even giving Rae the chance to refute his statement, "I propose we sent someone in."

"I'll go, I'll volunteer as tribute." Toast glanced at her, raising his eyebrow before turning back to Sykkuno and motioning him to continue, "One of us can go, check it out from a distance and then look at the situation. If things have changed for the worse, shoot on sight and report back."

Toast nodded along, approving of his plan, "I'll give them that much of a chance. Rae you are not going."

"And why is that!" Rae was loud, standing up from the chair as she faced Toast face to face.

Toast gave her a look she didn't need words for to understand, asking if he really needed to explain himself further cause everyone knew what he had meant.

"Sykkuno, Corpse, what do you have on the agenda?" Sykkuno looked at Corpse who shrugged his shoulders, "More than enough, sad to say, what about sending Rae after all? We all know she wouldn't do anything that could hurt the cartel. She's more than responsible enough." Corpse nodded along to his words, before offering his own opinion "I trust Rae."

Most of the other members of the cartel didn't know about this assignment, so sending them would be more of a hassle than Toast wanted, which meant he reluctantly agreed to send Rae. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't trust her, he had put his own life in her hands more times than he could count, instead he disliked any personal connections to jobs in general.

"Fine then. Rae, this is now your responsibility." he looked at her through the glasses before pulling them off, "I trust you will make a good judgement."

She gave him a serious nod, signaling she would indeed take this seriously.

It hadn't been the plan; something like his could've never been the plan. Never did she think she had slipped up, dropped her guard, but Rae found the world spinning as her sight blackened. The ground was cold and hit hard, a dull ache forming on her temple as something akin to a chuckle could be heard from behind her.

She didn't think she had given any reason for the following that had stalked her around as soon as she entered the territory. Shrugging them off was supposed to have been easy, but people only added to the chase instead of backing off.

It was unfamiliar territory, and despite jumping over fences, sprinting through alleyways to take the fastest path back to her car, she found herself cornered. Though this shouldn't have been a dealbreaker, she was tired from running, and they were with many.

Her fists hit skulls, necks, unprotected stomachs, whilst her feet kicked whatever came in their reach. She started with a knife, though quickly lost that as more people approached.

Maybe she was taken down, but she took plenty with her.

It had been a year and ten months you guessed, you weren't even sure anymore, you had stopped keeping track. Times had changed, and so had you. Laying low had become a priority, with no cartel behind you and most likely a bounty on your head by Toast, you didn't have much choice.

Sometimes, you longed back to the cartel, to the place where people worked that had become your friends, but even then, any opportunity to report back was ruined one way or another. You couldn't even blame them for wanting to put a bounty on your head. You couldn't turn back to them with empty hands and jeopardize the entire job, but the result seemed so far away simultaneously, leaving you stuck in between.

Despite knowing you couldn't, you had considered just turning back multiple times, back to a place you could consider home. The cartel was like a family, and now you were homesick more than ever. Though you weren't even granted the time to allow your thoughts to linger on that.

"The boss has called for you." It were simple words, but effective to pull you out of the string of thought you found yourself in.

You hadn't seen the boss once throughout your stay at the cartel, though it was suspected as you had joined as a potential new member. If anything, it was weirder that they had called for you, as there shouldn't have been a reason for you to meet yet.

There had been no way you could have refused this opportunity to begin with, though the chance of it bringing you closer to the goal of the job forced hope to bubble within your mind.

You didn't know who had come to fetch you, but as you followed them deeper into the building to sections and floors you had never been before you did start to become nervous. Could you even fool a cartel boss?

She wasn't what you'd expected her to be, but so much more. Somehow, you weren't quite sure what you had expected in the first place, but with an electrifying presence in the room, the relaxed way she sat but still held so much power was enough to force a gasp out of your throat.

A confident smile played at her lips, her fingertips drumming idly on the throne like chair she sat upon. She maned you closer, and as if in a trance you did, stepping closer before she spoke up, "That's enough."

Tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear, the rest of it is pulled up tidy behind her head as charms dangle from the sides. Maybe cartel had been the wrong name all along, it was more akin to a yakuza than anything else.

"You have been trying to join this organization for a while now, correct?" She spoke, careful eyes watching your every move, every reaction. Without a doubt you could tell she was in her position for a very, very good reason.

Nodding your head, you replied "That is indeed correct". She nodded her head along, carefully considering your words and forming her own, "Then, you must have suspected some sort of ritual, a trial, no?" She raised her eyebrow, watching your reaction with narrowed eyes.

"I suppose so, yes." A smile broke over her face, exposing her teeth as she seemed satisfied with your answer, "Then it should please you to know that we have one for you. Tomorrow you shall be taken to an undisclosed location, here you will have to kill the captive. You have taken plenty of lives for this organization, so I trust this to not be a problem."

There was a silence, and her eyes searched yours for an answer, "yes ma'am, I will not disappoint."

With the wave of her hand, you were escorted out, lastly seeing the glance of a smile on her lips. Back to the familiar side of the building, back to the entrance from which you headed home.

The night left you wondering for the next day. If she knew you had already killed plenty, then why did she think one more or less life would change it? It wasn't surprising sleep came late that night, whilst your ride to pick you up came early in the morning.

Hurrying to put on your jacket as you walked out, you hopped into the van. It was almost large, but it barely fit the other people accompanying you. In a sense it was expected that they'd keep an eye on you on the day of the trial.

The drive was long, a few hours at least, and as you arrived the people formed a formation around you. If you hadn't known better, you may have actually thought they were there to protect you.

The facility looked like a warehouse, and maybe it was even used as one. The walls were deceivingly thick, resistant to the average explosive you guessed, and unconsciously your mind began tracking down exit routes at the trapped feeling it gave you.

Leading you to a large room, where shipping containers were stacked and the ceiling was high, you had to guess this to be the main storage room of the warehouse. Some of the shipping containers were used as a wall, and as you were lead around it, one particular shipping container stood on the ground, its doors opened as small amount of light in the warehouse cast a shadow into the small room.

You were nudged forward, towards the container as the hairs on your neck stood upright, any and all alarm bell in your head going off at the situation.

The shadow into the container seemed to disappear as you got closer, and you could finally look into the room yourself. Deep brown hair, longer than any you had ever seen before, bleached tips as it hid a face you knew all too well.

She was unconscious, suspended from her wrists by chains stuck to the ceiling of the container. Clothes ragged, dirty, needless to say she looked in a worse state than you had ever seen her before.

Plenty tools hung around the container, decorating the walls in a gruesome way. Splatters of dried blood covering the tools, the floor and the walls. It was clear what would happen here, and what was about to happen.

Your eyes couldn’t be torn away from Rae, and your hand itched to the place where your gun would normally hang, where it was supposed to hang. It was empty, the man behind you noticed the movement as he chuckled, "Come on Darlin', don't act like their ain't plenty of choice already."

The decision had been made before the thought had the time to cross your mind, like the ripple of electricity in your mind went straight down, into your body, forcing it to fling in action at the split second, before being able to form a thought.

Twisting your body, forcing it to fall to the ground as your leg shot out, sweeping the male's legs behind you from underneath him before he had the chance to react, as you shot forward to yank the gun from his grip.

He didn't allow you to surprise him twice however, his boot making contact with your shoulder as you felt something shoot out of place.

The men surrounding you spring into action as well, two of them pointing their guns at you, one moving in the direction of Rae, and the other following you to the ground.

The man you tackled tried to hit you with the gun he held, the range too close to shoot at. The palm of your hand found his nose, breaking it on impact as his reflexes forced him to let go of the gun he held. The split second his guard lowered your hand found his gun, pressing it against his ribcage as you shot.

The man that had followed you to the ground caged his hand around your neck from the back, pulling you back as his comrades took a small distance from the two of you, not shooting to prevent hitting their colleague.

As he applied pressure, he crawled further on top of you, from your legs up.

Before his second hand could join to finish the job, you twisted your torso wildly, ripping his hand from your throat in the direction of his thumb, aiming the bloodied gun into the bottom of his jaw and pulling the trigger once more.

Split of a second later, another trigger was pulled, and as you used the body on top of you as cover, one out of the two was quickly taken out by another bullet leaving your gun.

On instinct, you flipped the body covering you in the other direction to cover for the bullet that soon followed, and as the last shot left your gun, the last man had reached Rae.

His one hand on her shoulder to keep her positioned in front of him, gun pressed to the side of her head. He could have killed her then and there, but you would shoot him and live, no he needed both of you dead.

There is the slightest movement, a lock of hair that sways in nonexistent wind, the glimpse of eye contact, and a heel that shoots out behind her, right into his crotch.

One last shot rung through the warehouse.

Within a second, you're by her side, hands searching for a way to free her arms from the chains, before searching the man behind her for a phone and dialing Toast's phone on pure instinct, hearing his worried voice on the other line at the sound of you.

An ambulance, without explaining anything, you told him to send an ambulance to the address of the warehouse, for him to come, and take the others with him in case, no- when someone would come to check the warehouse.

Rae laughed dryly as you fussed over her, taking one of the tools to cut through the metal chains, the cuffs, and catching her limp body.

Blood trickled down her face, and who knew where else, but somehow, as your eyes met hers, you knew the situation wasn't as bad as it had seemed before.

"About that vacation-" her hoarse voice rung through the air, a dry chuckle leaving your throat.

"Tell me about that later."

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soulmate-game · 4 years ago

Text

I was feeling angsty. Read at your own risk, there is very little comfort in this and a whole shit ton of hurt. Probably a bunch of emotional triggers, so seriously be careful guys.

—*—*—*—*—*

Liquid pain ran down her arm like poison, the slash in it burning hot and spreading it’s agony like an invisible waterfall inside her flesh. But she did not grip her bicep where the wound had been inflicted, her gaze blank as she forced herself to hide her turmoil behind glass eyes. Her brother’s snarling face was only inches in front of her own, his katana moving from her arm to her throat.

“Useless! To think we share any blood relation is humiliating!” He growled at her. She did not move, did not emote. Her blades fans, the weapon she was loved most, lay half-opened on the ground beside her. Abandoned. But she knew Damian’s sword would not kill her. Blood family was a bond that was not to be severed by murder unless ordered by Ra’s or justified by the murdered family member in question betraying the League. She had done nothing to betray the Shadows, and Ra’s would not waste time and energy, or the breath it would require, to order her death. Just as he would not waste the precious waters of the Pit to bring her back again. She would not die today, and she knew it.

Sure enough, it was only a few more insults in various languages before Damian Al-Ghul stepped back and scowled down at the blood on his blade. Her blood. “If you don’t even have the stomach for real combat, you do not belong here,” he spat.

“That is where we agree, Grandson,” Ra’s sharp voice echoed through the room, his beady eyes never once bothering to glance at his granddaughter. “Maria, you are hereby stripped of the name Al-Ghul. Banishment from the League is the only mercy you shall be granted for your dishonor on our blood. Be useful and use whatever is left of your mistake of a life to stay out of the League’s way. Shall I, Damian, or your mother ever see your face again, your burial will follow shortly after. Am I understood?”

“Yes Gr— yes, Ra’s Al-Ghul.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Maria Al-Ghul was seven years old when she was disowned and sent away from the League of Shadows without so much as a penny to her name. She was only allowed to take the change of clothes she carried, and one small backpack’s worth of items. Her mother— Talia— had watched vigilantly as she packed those items, assuring that Maria did not take anything of worth.

The girl traveled by foot, too small to get away with driving a vehicle. Unless she could manage to steal a motorbike— she knew how to adjust the seats and pedals on most models to accommodate her size. But she was far too far away from civilization for that.

She knew that most of the League expected her to die in the jungles that surrounded the temple. After all, there were ninjas scattered throughout it with strict orders to kill anyone who was not one of them. And Maria now fit that description.

But if there was one thing Maria knew better than anything else, it was how to hide. How to hide feelings, intentions, involuntary movements, or her whole body in almost any setting. She covered herself in mud, matted her hair with dirt and took off her shoes. Barefoot was always quieter, and her feet would be more sensitive to any change in terrain. She would have to move more slowly and be on the lookout for traps, ground litter that could harm her, or dangerous wildlife, but she would be much harder to track.

It took her a month, but she made it to her first Tibetan city alive and decently healthy. She begged for food for a day before snatching a child’s outfit off of some hanging laundry lines and stealing the first decent vehicle she found. It was an old moped, but it beat walking and was already built small. She made it work.

That was how she spent the majority of the next year. She traveled from town to town, stealing what she needed until she could earn money normally. She used that money to buy herself a fake identity, even if she had to use the skills she had hoped to never need again in order to afford it.

Marinette Shiwang was born when she was already eight years old.

It was only a year after her new identity was created when she bumped into a woman in a street market. That was nothing new, those places could get crowded. But when Marinette looked up and saw valuable bracelets and necklaces of gold and jade, she knew she needed at least one. The money she would get for it would have her living comfortably for a short while. So Marinette’s theft-experienced fingers darted out and unclasped one bracelet in a fluid movement. It took less than a second. She barely had the piece of jewelry in her hand before she started to take off, hoping to lose herself in the crowd.

But a small hand clamped around her shoulder, a sturdy thumb pressing against a very vulnerable spot right at the back of Marinette’s neck, at the base of her skull. A clear threat from somebody with experience.

The sweet voice that followed didn’t match the gesture at all.

“Oh, I need that back dear. It was a gift from my husband, you understand.”

Marinette did. She cared about survival more. The small girl twisted, knocking the hand away from her before it could do damage and darting down a side street. The woman followed. It took three hours, but Marinette decided she had finally lost her pursuer before slumping down in the tiny, closet-sized bedroom of her cheap apartment. Her eyes closed for only a second before the window opened, and the smell of newly-baked sesame buns filtered through.

It was the woman and a much taller, much more masculine man. He was practically a giant, reminding Marinette of a certain member of the League that she used to know. They were both smiling.

“My wife figured you would be more open to an exchange than just giving up the bracelet for free,” the man’s voice was deep and inviting. “You can eat as many buns as your stomach can handle, if you give it back.”

Marinette accepted. Mostly because of her fear for people who could track her to her home so easily, when she had been certain she had not been followed. The League has tuned her senses well, there was no way the couple had been close enough to see her when she made it to her apartment. Yet they were still there somehow. Then, it also had to do with the promise of food, and the heavenly smell of the food itself. And then, lastly, Marinette was tired. She didn’t like stealing, it was just a necessity. She would not hurt these people over a mere bracelet that she wished she didn’t have to take in the first place.

Useless, she thought. So much of a bleeding heart that she just gave up what could have paid for two months rent. Too soft to even protect herself. The Al-Ghuls has been right. She was a waste of space and time.

Marinette was ten years old when she became a Dupain-Cheng. Somehow, that strange, dangerous couple had become her new family. Not even she knew how. But she was grateful— they took her back to Paris with them and she didn’t have to worry about rent, or food, or money anymore.

She vowed, that day that she received her spacious attic bedroom, that she would repay them. She would make herself useful, for the first time in her life. She would stay out of their way, be the perfect most unobtrusive daughter ever. She would help in the bakery, keep a smile on her face so that they never doubted that they were doing a good job. So that they never wasted time worrying about her. She smiled, and laughed, and became successful for them. Competent and reliable even though her memories would sink into her dreams every day and make it near impossible to drag herself out of bed in the mornings.

And then, when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was thirteen, she was given a pair of magical earrings and a tiny fairy-god. And Tikki was thorough, at least. Diligent in her explanation. Marinette listened to every word, dread seeping in as she doubted her ability to carry out such an important task. Save a city? Defeat someone much more experienced and magically powerful than her?

Useless little Maria could never. Slightly less useless Marinette could never.

She was only ever meant to play a support role. Stay on the background and make everyone else shine, without ever succeeding in anything worth noting. That was who she was.

But then Tikki gave her the Warning. The catch that came with the Ladybug abilities, and Marinette felt the long-rusted determination in her begin to fire up again. Maybe she could be Ladybug. Maybe she could be useful, at least this once. At least for just this one scenario. She could fight and win the war against Hawkmoth, and that achievement alone could make her happy. Let her die knowing she did something worthwhile.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian Wayne was seventeen when he and his family found out about the Paris Situation, and immediately went over to offer help. Damian Wayne was seventeen when he watched Ladybug stumble at the sight of him, and immediately run away. But the two of them were twins, and though twin telepathy might be a myth they always did have a certain instinct when it came to one another.

Damian Wayne was Seventeen when he said, aloud on the top of a random Parisian building and surrounded by his family—

“My sister is Ladybug.”

Damian didn’t wait for their reactions, having entirely forgotten about the existence of his father and brothers, before taking off after his spotted sibling.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I knew you were alive.”

In hindsight, those probably weren’t the best words for him to say when Maria clearly thought he was still an assassin.

Damian watched as Marinette spun to face him, her face so much more expressive than he remembered. He could actually see the resignation in the slump in her shoulders, he could feel the fear in her bluebell eyes. The eyes she was lucky enough to get from their father while he was cursed with their mother’s green irises. He used to envy that about her, especially after joining the BatClan. But now he only felt comfort when he looked into her eyes. Comfort that she was different than him, and always had been. In the best of ways.

He watched as his sister was enveloped by a bright flash of pink light, detransforming right in front of him. And without the mask, it was impossible to ignore the relation between them. She had their father’s eyes and nose where he had their mother’s, but other than that they were almost carbon copies of one another. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into twin braids though, something he noted distantly as oddly fitting. They suited her, he thought.

But all those thoughts instantly turned to dust as she dropped to her knees in front of him, head bowed in complete submission.

“Tom and Sabine are innocent,” she told him. “They adopted me out of nothing but goodwill, and they have been nothing but good to me. I never told them a single word about my origin, I swear it on our blood. They think I am just an orphan that was abandoned in Hong Kong—“

“Maria—“

“—so please, don’t harm them. I’m begging you. And there is no need for you to waste energy killing me. You are welcome to stay in Paris as long as no harm comes to Tom and Sabine, but just wait and watch. I know who Hawkmoth is, and our final plan is almost ready. I’ll have him taken down by next week. Just— wait until then, please. My death will take care of itself afterwards, but Paris deserves to be free, and killing me now will set this entire war against Hawkmoth back by at least a year. And I also need that time to pick my successor—“

“Maria! I am not here to kill you!” Damian had to yell to get her to stop babbling and begging. She froze, but didn’t dare to sit up or even raise her head. So Damian took the initiative and sat down on the ground with her, though he kept his distance so that he didn’t scare her too badly. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction, it had been ten years since they had seen one another and their parting hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

But he had changed a lot since then, matured a lot.

“I am completely disconnected from the League,” he admitted. Of the blurry memories he had of her, he did remember that being blunt was the best way to handle information with her. Beating around the bush had always done nothing but make her exceptionally nervous and jittery. Sure enough, his admission was enough to make her look up at him with disbelieving eyes. He risked a small grin. “I didn’t come in my old uniform, did I?” He gestured to himself in the bright Robin colors. Sure enough, Marinette’s rapid blinking proved his theory that she hadn’t even registered his clothing at all to be true. She had run as soon as she recognized his face.

But Marinette did not speak. She sat up a little, still eyeing him cautiously. But her silence helped him finally realize where they were— where she had led him.

The sounds of traffic and other big city noises were all muted, as if muffled by several layers of cloth. Shadows fell over them abundantly, and they were surrounded by dilapidated concrete walls.

She had brought him to an abandoned area far from any activity, where a body would take ages to find. She had then disarmed herself of her only weapon, her magic suit, and had gotten on the ground in total submission.

She had purposely given him the perfect setting to kill her, where there would be no witnesses and plenty of time before her body would be found for him to escape. That realization hit Damian square the chest, leaving him breathless for a moment.

“I am not here to kill anybody,” he reiterated, his voice noticeably much gentler than before. “Not you, not you adoptive parents, nobody. I left the league when I was eleven. Mother—“ he took a breath, but Maria deserved to know. “— she cloned me. Her clone killed me. He no longer exists, but that is of no consequence. She killed me, she and Grandfather disowned me when I made it clear I was not returning. Father— our father,” he was insistent as he leaned forward, not continuing until she met his gaze. “You remember who our father is, right? Bruce Wayne? Mother had dropped me off to be raised with him when I was ten, but of course it was all just one of her plots. It was her miscalculation though, because I ended up growing close to them. To Father and his adopted children. You would get along with Gra— with Dick, the best I think. Although T— Jason would also be a prime contender as your favorite brother, I think. He shares your love of motor bikes, if that hasn’t changed?” She just stared at him, clearly confused and experiencing a lot of feelings at once. He stayed silent for a moment to allow her to sort through them a little.

“I’m Robin now,” he made his voice quieter, but still easy for her to hear. “I’m a member of the Bats. I’m sure they would all welcome you, if you chose to meet them. Though be warned, they can be quite in—“

“Why are you doing this?” Marinette’s voice was barely above a whisper, Damian almost didn’t hear her. But he did, and fell silent. He watched as his sister licked her lips and tried to find the right words to say. “If what you say is true… you have a perfectly good family. Brothers, Father, a comfortable life. Why follow me then? Why offer me… any of that?”

Damian frowned. He didn’t remember Maria being so gloomy, but then again she had been raised to never show her emotions. Maybe, after years away from the temple like him, her true feelings were just easier for him to see now. Closer to the surface.

“I want to get to know you— to get to know my sister, again,” he told her. “Don’t tell them, but Father and the others have taught me to appreciate family. The way I treated you when we were children was not right, and though it was heavily influenced by Mother and Grandfather, I want to make up for it nonetheless. Maybe we can get to know the new us, together?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide with disbelief, but then she clenched her jaw and shook her head.

“We can’t.”

“... right, I understand if you do not forgive me. I didn’t even consider—“

“It isn’t that,” Marinette was quick to correct him. “When I said that my death will handle itself, I mean it, Damian. The Ladybug… the earrings that give me my powers, come with a price,” she absently ran her fingertips over the unassuming black studs in her ears. “If a Ladybug uses the miraculous for more than three years, the powers of Creation will demand to be balanced. Already, the Miraculous is powering itself on nothing but my life force now. Once I defeat Hawkmoth, there will be no need for Ladybug anymore. The moment I take the earrings off, they will cease keeping me alive.”

Damian’s face fell. No— no, that wasn’t right. He was finally able to find her, finally able to apologize and try to fix his past mistakes. This couldn’t be how the reunion went. This couldn’t—

“Not even the Lazarus Pits can bring me back from a Miraculous death,” Marinette went on. “So you and your family should go. You don’t need to be here when I—“ Marinette paused, gasping. “Damian, why are you crying?! Stop that!” Her voice became desperate, Marinette crawling over to him as quickly as she could and wiping away his tears as if they were something terrifying. Damian wasn’t sobbing or making any noise, it was just a silent stream of tears running down both cheeks as he stared at her wordlessly.

“I…” he finally managed to choke out. “I wanted to make up for everything. I wanted for us to be twins again, together.”

Marinette paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know a magic user who can erase your memories of me,” she offered. “But you don’t have to feel guilty for anything. You never said anything that wasn’t true.”

Damian’s green eyes widened. He had said nothing but cruel things to her, that last year they spent together as children. Did she really believe all of that? Did he and their childhood really affect her self worth this severely and irreversibly?

“Maria—“

“My name is Marinette, actually,” she corrected him with a small smile. “I’m not Maria Al-Ghul anymore. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is actually useful, Damian. I can actually do things right— I’m doing something right right now. Beating Hawkmoth will be the first worthwhile thing I’ve ever done, don’t you see? Once it’s all over, I will have brought honor back to our blood. I’ll have proved to you that I really am your twin, that I wasn’t a mistake. That I was born for a reason,” Marinette’s eyes got dreamy even as Damian just felt like he was impaled again, this time by a spike of ice rather than a sword. “And I’ll be able to die before I ruin it. It’s a perfect scenario.”

“A perfect scenario implies that nothing important is going to be lost,” Damian breathed. Marinette just blinked.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the plan. Defeat Hawkmoth, save Paris, and nobody dies.”

“But you’re going to die!” He growled. Marinette leaned back, bewildered by his violent reaction.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I actually matter. Nobody needs me. Tom and Sabine might be hurt for a while, but they will recover just fine. And it’s not like I have friends or any—“

“Stop worrying about other people, damnit!” Damian surged forward, grabbing her shoulders hard enough to bruise and shaking her a little. “Even back then! Even when we were seven, you threw down your blades because you were more worried about hurting me than you were about how Grandfather would react, even though you knew he would be tempted to kill you for what he thought was cowardice! You never put yourself first, and it’s finally starting to piss me off!”

“Damian—“

“No, listen to me!” He shook her again, his tear stained cheeks only making his glare all the more potent as he stared right into her eyes. “You are alive, and your life matters! You were never worthless or useless, you just didn’t fit what our abusive situation wanted of you. They wanted a cold hearted killer, a tool they could use, and you were always too warm hearted and clever to fit either of those goals. But I did, I was the killer they were looking for and the pawn they wanted. If anything, that makes you better than I ever was! I was too young and naive to see it back then, but I’m trying to make up for it now. You are my sister, whether you go by Maria or Marinette, Al-Ghul or Wayne or Dupain-Cheng, I don’t give a damn! And so help me, even if I have to surgically attach those earrings to your skin, I am not letting you die before you gain at least a modicum of respect for yourself. Do you understand me?”

A wet sniffle met his ears, and he pulled Marinette in for a hug. She returned it weakly, sniveling and sobbing into his cape.

“D-d-Damian?”

“Yes, Shaqiqa?”

Another sniffle.

“I-is it really o-okay for me to stay with you?”

“Of course.”

“I-is… is it really oka-ay for… for me to live?”

Damian’s arms tightened around her. “Always. Always, always.”

Marinette buried her face into his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“Th-then… I wanna try.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Not sorry. Ha 😎

#mlb x dc #maribat #platonic daminette #bio!dad au #Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne #sibling Daminette #angst #heavy angst #hurt no comfort #or very little comfort anyway #ml x dc #platonic brucinette #twin AU

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keroseneinhalers · 4 years ago

Note

my favorite part of warrior cats is the grotesque story of squirrelflight, ashfur, and the extended cast of cats that sound like they came out of an ajj song

this gal named squirrelflight flirts with a guy named ashfur a few times. typical 80s romance song. its quick, its fleeting. squirrelflight gets together with brambleclaw. its all real lovely. brambleclaw gets promoted to leader after squirrelflights dad goes into retirement and makes his deputy the chief. brambleclaw is now bramblestar

(before the promotion and after the marriage, brambleclaw leads the entire 4 clans to a new territory. not relevant. he also stabs his brother in the neck with a tent stake)

and then squirrelflights sister leafpool, who is a medicine cat and sworn into celibacy, has sex with a guy from windclan named crowfeather. this is something all the cats are sworn not to do. double illegal.

crowfeather is a bit of a whore because he was previously in love with another girl who went on a magical journey with him when he was a child. (brambleclaw was there for that too. brambleclaw is eternal and everywhere) the girl crowfeather was in love with got impaled by a falling stalagmite while protecting a tribe of savage feral cats with names very similar to english translations of a few native american names i know. interesting. racist? there was a mountain lion involved

yeah so they have sex and leafpool gets pregnant. but since she did two crimes in one she gives the kids to squirrelflight and pretends they belong to her and brambelstar. theres an uncomfortable birthing scene because the kids decided to emerge from her cat uterus in the middle of a snowstorm. this is very telling of their characters after birth

theres three kids. jayfeather lionblaze and hollyleaf. jayfeather is very angry. lionblaze is angry but in a brave way. hollyleaf loves rules. they are a legendary trio

theres a thing about superpowers, and a prophecy or something. jay is sickly and blind and can see peoples thoughts. lionblaze never loses any fights, ever, and he maims ashfur a little while theyre trianing. hollyleaf doesnt have any powers, but she is absolutely obsessed with the warrior code and gets caught up with a guy named sol who says the world is gonna end. none of this is relevant except the "bootlicker hollyleaf" thing

ashfur is stewing. ashfur has been stewing for years now. long enough that they literally brought all 4 clans across the continent to a new territory kind of stewing. hes lonely. he misses the girl he was madly in love with, and shes married to the coolest guy in town. hes in agony. (over in windclan, crowfeather has a new girlfriend. manwhoring as long as he lives)

theres a big fire. thunderclans entire territory sets on fire. everyone is escaping, except for squirrelflight and her three kids. jayfeather, lionblaze, and hollyleaf, who is contemplating becoming an antivaxxer or something

imagine this: a clearing on the edge of a pit. the pit is where the cats live. everything is on fire around this clearing. there is one log running across the clearing, and squirreflight and her fake kids are going along it to escape. theyre the last out

ashfur appears he stands at the other end of the log. hes pissed. hes crying. he hates squirrelflight. he hates her so much. his rage is all consuming, like the fire that burns around them. he says he wants her in as much pain as possible, and he knows how: taking the only thing she loves in this world. her 3 kids

we all know something ashfur doesnt. the kids arent hers. squirrelflight, though non an omnipresence, is gifted with this knowledge herself.. she sees ashfurs twisted evil mind and tells him, flat out that they arent hers. she doesnt love them. he can kill them, they mean nothing to her. they are, after all, just her sister leafpool's. why would she care for them?

ashfur is stunned. he gives up. he leaves. squirrelflight and her three kids leave. its a bit awkward. imagine the thanksgiving dinner table after a particularly bad argument. thats all this is really

anyways. hollyleaf is broken from this. shes the daughter of a medicine cat and a manwhore from a clan that only eats rabbits. she cant take it. much like ashfur, she snaps

there are these big clan meetings, once every month. everyone goes, except the old people and the dying people and the kids who just want juiceboxes and lunchables. thunderclan is heading out to the Meeting Island. they find a body in the river. surprise! its ashfur

they go on to the gathering despite finding the body of one of their finest, most mentally haunted warriors polluting the stream with the blood seeping out of his slit throat. the three kids are there. squirrelflight is there. leafpool is there. bramblestar is there

this story has very weird heathers energy to me. its there, but it isnt coherant. like a bad remix of 100 gecs, sort of. this part is no exception

hollyleaf runs up to the big tree the clan leaders stand on and monologue. shes not allowed to do this. perhaps the sense that she lost her identity with her illigitimate birth turned into something real, that the warrior code didnt matter anymore. perhaps she was just tired of being kind; she wanted to go apeshit

she confesses. to two things. number one - the muderder of ashfur. how tragic. number two - leafpool. leafpools affar with crowfeather. squirrelflights lies to her for her entire life. theres chaos. thunderclan is like stan twitter after a minecraft youtuber said something racist 8 years ago. the 3 other clans are trying desperately to get in on this drama. the hot tea of the hour if you will

hollyleaf says her share. she runs away. lionblaze and jayfeather chase after her all the way back to the thunderclan territory. she yells at them. she runs into a tunnel and gets crushed by rocks. thats the end. shes dead.

jk jk that was a lie shes alive and shes living in a huge cave system with a ghost cat. remember the native american coded mountain tribe? yeah, they had ancestors. the ancestors lived at the territory the 4 clans moved to after squirelflight flirted with ashfur and before she got together with bramblestar. they used to drown little kids in the tunnels. jayfeather is the entire reason why the ancestors moved to the mountains and became the racist mountain tribe. i wont explain the timeline of this, and i dont think i could if i tried

up above hollyleafs slowburn romance with a transparent cat, theres a new girl with superpowers. prophecy fulfilled yadda yadda. her sister is annoyed that she isnt #quirky and so she joins a fighting cult run by the cats in hell. i cannot stress this enough its literally every cat from the 50 some books before this who went to hell. they have an army of children. theyre training them. the sister kills one of her classmates and becomes equals with the hell cats. my second favorite plotline in the series

the hell cats come to the land of the living. the sister betrays them. theres a big battle, and its supposed to be the end of the series but you know theyre gonna continue it for at least 20 more books. (they did). hollyleaf appears, and i dont think its ever explained how or why. but shes back, and she joins the battle. everyones too busy with the literal hell cats to care much about some kid with a body count of 1 appearing randomly

hollyleaf fights a bit. she gets mauled to death. thats the end. its just over. she dies and she doesnt come back. rip to a queen

i think my biggest question besides why would someone create this ad continue to do so for fifty plus books, is how the fuck brambleclaw stabbed his brother with a tent stake when he literally doesn’t even have hands. what.

#hollyleaf was a queen gone too soon #thank you for telling the plot of all fifty books i can finally know #warrior cats spoilers #maybe?#would anyone who follows me actually have that tagged?#long post

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solarwonux · 4 years ago

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prince!wonwoo x witch!reader

w.c: 4.3k (I almost made it 5k but I stopped myself)

warnings: murder, death, alcohol, tarot cards, running away, witchy things if you squint, angst, smut, ropes.

note: special special thanks to my baby @starlightshua she named this beauty lmao. I re wrote this story so many times, literally the first draft of this was nothing like this and then I woke up at 5am today and rewrote the entire thing. I’m pretty proud so I hope you enjoy it. Also let me know if you want more of this, I have some ideas. Enjoy.x

Wonwoo pushes the tavern door open a little too hard. It hits the brick wall behind it, the sound erupting through the wasted and nearly wasted bodies that occupied the space. He doesn’t care, he needs a drink or many of them for that matter so he walks letting the door rattle obnoxiously behind him. The people eyeing him down like he just murdered their first born and not interrupted their nightly escapades.

He reaches the bar taking the worn out stool at the end and taps his fingers against the wooden counter. He was a regular and sadly had gotten used to the mustiness that was etched into the walls of the place and yet he still felt out of place.

“What does our royal guest of honor want tonight?” Mingyu rapped his fingers drumming in front of Wonwoo, grabbing his attention.

“Not royal, but bourbon please.”

Ever since he ran away from his Royal duties and somehow ended up in a tavern that existed harmoniously to bring two worlds together. Wonwoo had seen and witnessed things he had only grown up hearing during his mother’s bedtime stories. A secret language they shared when hidden behind the comfort of his bedroom. Away from the torturous hands of the King.

“As you wish your majesty.” Mingyu’s sarcastic drawl took him out of the spiral inside his head. He rolled his eyes obnoxiously as he watched Mingyu throw his head back in laughter, his fangs catching in the reflection of the dim light causing a chill to roll up his spine. “You’re so uptight tonight, relax a little Prince Charming.” He winked at Wonwoo before turning around and walking away from him.

No matter how hard he tried to leave the life he had behind, everyone here in this tavern that belonged neither here nor there, loved to remind him that he still had the king’s royal blood coursing through his veins. Usually, he didn’t mind, sometimes he would play into the character when he was drunk enough to earn a few laughs. But tonight on the final night of October, he didn’t want to be reminded of his true identity.

On Hallows Eve, three years ago his life had gone south. He was set to marry a princess from a neighboring kingdom and he couldn’t wait to meet her during the annual ball. He had woken up that morning with a jolt and skipped a step as he made his way to his mother and father’s private chamber. When he arrived, his heart, in his throat. He found his father the charming King beloved by his people with his hands around his mother’s throat and a murderous glimmer behind his soft eyes while she slowly turned a rough shade of blue.

Wonwoo felt his world crash onto the ground. his father didn’t stop no matter how hard he pleaded for him too. His tears fell onto the palace grounds creating tsunami’s as he witnessed his mother take her last breath.

He ran, ran to where his feet could carry him. Packed up anything that could fit in the tiny knapsack he used whenever he went to explore the forest behind the palace. And left, leaving behind the life he had only ever known.

He traveled for three days on foot without food nor rest, before he came across the tavern that smelled more like rotten feet than whiskey. He met Mingyu, who had recognized him right away and gave him the tavern’s royal treatment. Food, water and the rickety old room just above the tavern.

“It’s not satin or velvet or whatever you guys use over there, but it’s enough for you to sleep. Just pay me back by working here every odd day of the week.” Mingyu said, clapping his shoulder and leaving him behind to deal with his new reality.

That night was the night he was able to mourn his mother’s death and his own one as well. The king had come out publicly with fake tears in his eyes to say that his wife and his second born son had fallen ill to an illness and that when the royal physicians realized it, it had been too late. Though, everyone in the tavern knew the truth and he found comfort knowing that they hated the king just as much as he did.

“Penny for your thoughts my prince.” The angelic voice he had grown to love so much took him out of his thoughts. He lived in his head too much and he was thankful he had you —a witch he had met during one of his shifts over a year ago, to ground him back down onto Earth.

“Don’t call me that.” He smiled and grabbed hold of your hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed it lightly keeping his eyes on yours as they burned holes of fire into them. You tensed up feeling the heat run up your body. It was laughable. You, a witch who could make anyone succumb and fall at her feet, was letting a runway prince pursue her and turn her into mush at his feet.

“You liked it when I said in bed once.”

“That was one time, princess.” He winked, enjoying the way your cheeks flushed. Your body reacted amorously to him and each time it bubbled an emotion deep inside of him that he wasn’t sure what it was. It scared him and excited him all at the same time.

Wonwoo stopped believing in love three years ago but every time you were nearby. He believed that he could again.

“One to many times Wonwoo.” You toyed as you took the empty seat next to him. Your hand still entrapped in his and you weren’t planning on letting go any time soon.

Mingyu rolled his eyes and placed Wonwoo’s drink in front of him, “Wonwoo has a prince kink?.” He mumbled his voice laced with disgust. “I should’ve known.” and leaned against the wooden table, shooting daggers at Wonwoo.

“Not a kink if that’s what he is Gyu.”

Wonwoo didn’t care that he still had royal blood in him, because whenever he found himself laughing at Mingyu’s poor attempts to flirt with nymphs. Or your presence next to him he forgot that he did. He wondered if his mother had led him here to this repulsive tavern in order to meet the two of you.

Although Wonwoo knew you were perfectly capable at defending yourself. He loved walking you home.

The two of you trailed down the dirt path hand in hand; chasing the blue light of the moon. Comfortable silence erupting between your bodies. Wonwoo never felt more at home then now.

“So what’s a witch like you doing with a commoner like me on Hallow’s Eve.” Wonwoo glanced at you his eyes sparkling like they held a million galaxies and you found yourself wanting to get lost in them. “Don’t you have rituals or cards to read, aren’t you the most powerful underneath a blue moon.” He edged on making you smile.

“Are you saying you want your cards read again?” You bumped your shoulder against his. His grip on your hand falters making you giggle.

Wonwoo’s eyes grew wider than the moon as he remembered the night you read his cards to him for the first time a few weeks ago and he blushed. “Last time you read my cards I ended tied up.”

“Well that’s cause you picked my sex deck Wonwoo, we’ve been over this.” You stopped walking and leaned up to kiss his cheek, leaving a plum lipstick mark behind. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.” You whispered in his ear.

Wonwoo swallowed hard at your taunting tone. He knew you were right and he hated it. If you had asked him with that infamous bat of your eyelashes he would’ve done it again. “For once angel I want to see you tied up.” He blurted out, his cheeks turning a rough shade of red as he processed what he had said after he had said.

“Okay, but you’re going to have to catch me first.”

“Catch you, what a—.”

Before Wonwoo could finish his sentence you took off running. Wonwoo threw his head back in disbelief, his body coursing with exhaustion for a brief second before he took off as well. This is what he loved most, the adrenaline rush you brought to him. Although sometimes he thought you were too much he wouldn’t trade the moments he spent with you for anything in the world. Not even for his mother’s life and you had offered a few times, but he refused because with you he felt complete.

Your laughter rang through the howling branches of the trees surrounding the two of you. Wonwoo’s body felt like it was floating as he chased after you, the cool night air hitting his face as he ran with everything in him. It reminded him of the times he spent at the palace gardens chasing after his older brother, his mother’s voice ringing in his ears as she joined in halfway. It was these moments where he was the most carefree, that reminded him of his mother. That made him miss her with everything in his being. It was moments like these where the anger and resentment towards his father would surface and he wished he hadn’t had run away that day. But this was different because for the first time in his life he was running towards someone, a goal.

“Maybe you don’t want it enough Wonwoo. Are you even trying?” You teased, he could tell he was close from how loud your voice sounded. It only gave him motivation to run faster, so he did.

You faded into view, it felt like he was seeing you for the first time in his life. You were leaning against a tree, arms cockily crossed in front of you, waiting. He let his feet carry him like the wind around him and soon he was crashing into you like an ocean wave. You laughed silently. The impact, knocking the air out of your lungs making you feel lighter than a cloud.

Almost as if by instinct Wonwoo’s arms found their way around your body, his face morphing into one of concern. He didn’t mean to crash into you as hard as he did or at all, but sometimes when he was with you his body acted as if it were unattached to his brain. “I’m sorry are you okay?” He placed his fingers underneath your chin lifting your head up so your watery eyes locked with his.

You planted your hands on his chest, balling your fist wrinkling his starch white button down and nodded. “With-- y-you I’m always okay.” You gasped and closed the distance. Your lips were on his faster than he could blink and he felt himself melt.

In fairytales silver and water were a witches ' kryptonite. In this life you were Wonwoo’s.

Wonwoo didn’t win but he should’ve known you were going to give in to his desires. Despite your sneaky ways he knew he could always trust you but still it had caught him off guard when you had given him the onyx ropes upon entering your small cottage.

“You wanted to tie me up right? Now’s your chance.” The amount of trust that laid behind your eyes was overwhelming. And no one, not even his mother, had trusted him like you did.

He placed the ropes down on your old wooden bed and kissed you with everything in him.

When his mother would tell him the damsel in distress stories during bed time. She always described the ending kiss as if it were the most magical thing in the universe, with fireworks exploding and butterflies running mayhem in pits of stomachs. But you weren’t a damsel in distress and his mother’s description of a true love’s kiss didn’t do this kiss justice.

Wonwoo very much felt like he was thrown in the middle of space and was now dumbly floating around. His body felt lighter than air, but heavy at the same time. He didn’t feel fireworks nor the butterflies but he did feel the adrenaline dip in the mouth of his stomach and the strikes of lightning that raced through his veins. He felt brand new, and he was ready to give himself to you, just like he had many nights before but this time it felt different, important and special.

Maybe Wonwoo was finally releasing the lock he had around his heart, but if he didn’t know any better--and he didn’t. He was positive that what he was feeling for you in this moment of vulnerability was love.

“I want to take my time.” He whispered against your lips as your fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt. “I want to be with you forever but I don’t know how.” He crushed the hem of your silk black shirt between his fingers. Your hands stopped their movements and you pulled away. They wandered up to his cheek, your index finger playing with the tiny sunspots that only you were able to see. He looked so small and scared and you were sure you mirrored his same expression because the grip he had on your shirt got tighter.

You had been in love once. Many lifetimes ago and they had been taken from you because of what you were. You promised yourself you would never love again and you spent years alone, until you found yourself in the odd old tavern.

For as long as you lived in the old supernatural town, you never once paid attention to that old tavern. Until one night during blue moon much like the one tonight, a little over a year ago you found yourself drawn to it. Your feet carried you there by themselves, your mind on autopilot and before you knew you were sitting in front of the bar, looking at a curious boy that resembled the prince you grew up hating, but that was impossible because he had been dead for years.

To your surprise he was the prince and he had spilled two strawberry margaritas on you ruining your new favorite shirt. You cursed him out, wondering why he wasn’t deader than dead as he apologized. He dropped everything before taking your hand in his and leading you up the rickety old stairs that led to the room above. Without a word he tore his poor excuse of a room apart until he found you a clean shirt and you put it on not after pushing him out of the room for some privacy.

If you had known that you would still keep that same shirt hidden deep in your closet you would’ve laughed because that was the first night you started to fall for him and every passing moment you were with him felt like you were being reborn again. Like a part of you didn’t die behind the flames of the burning fire as you watched your lover yell out for his life. That memory was buried deep in your mind and you had never told Wonwoo in fear that he would look at you differently. Like you weren’t his lifeline anymore, so, you kept it locked away inside of your heart just like the love you felt for him. One day you would tell him just not tonight. Tonight you wanted to keep your secret and instead be with him in every way possible.

“Take your time but tonight make me yours please.”

Wonwoo didn’t tie the ropes hard enough and it made you laugh at his shaking hands as they traveled down your flushed out body. You had assured him that you had suffered through worse than the burning of ropes against your skin. But he paid no attention to your statement as he finished his second and final loop on your bedpost.

He kissed his way down your body slowly, giving extra love the parts he knew would have you unraveling in no time.

This was one of the things you loved most about him, instead of getting what he wanted and leaving. He took his time getting to know your wants and needs. You’ve had many lovers in the past and none of them had felt nor treated you the way Wonwoo did.

With love.

“You feel so warm already.” He whispered against the skin of your stomach, slowly getting closer to where you wanted him most. His hands squeezed your thigh and prided them open as he kissed his way further down, hovering his mouth against your clothed core.

You whimpered, tugging at his roots in attempts to bring him closer, “Please Wonwoo please.” You let out an exasperated breath. “I need you close.”

Wonwoo smirked leaving an open mouthed kiss against your core, savoring your honeyduke sweetness that seeped through your panties. Your grip on his hair got tighter as he continued to tease you. Kissing you and humming like he was tasting his last meal. He lapped up once more groaning before hooking his thumbs against the waistband of your panties and pulled them down, sitting down on his knees and throwing them somewhere in your room, joining your already discarded clothes.

The coolness of the wind coming in from your open window made the goosebumps rise against your soft skin. Wonwoo sucked in a breath as he took in how wet you were and for him.

No matter how many times he found himself in this position, your body's reaction to him always left him floored. “Take a picture, it will last longer.” You joked, placing your leg against his shoulder and pulling him down towards you again. Catching him off guard, just like you always did.

“One day I will and then I won’t stop and by the end of it all, I’ll have my own private collection.” He winked laying down in between your legs again. He kissed up your thighs alternating between the two, taking his sweet time like he always did.

“I bet you’d like that...f-fuck.” Wonwoo lapped up your entrance and wrapped his perfect lips around your clit. He closed his eyes savoring your taste, his blunt nails digging into the skin of your thighs.

“Y-Your mouth was—ahh, your mouth was made from the h-heavens.” You arched your back, pushing his head closer with your legs entrapping him. Your hands grabbing on the ropes as you felt your orgasm approach.

A throaty groan fell out of his mouth, sending the vibration up your clit and through your body. The knot in your stomach starting to get tighter. Wonwoo’s index and middle finger swirls around in your pussy. Bathing in the wetness before he slowly inserts them. He always knew you were warm inside but today it felt like you were on fire and he couldn’t wait to devour you further.

He hums happily pulling away and sits up, your leg falling from his shoulder making you whine at the loss of his mouth. “Patience baby I’ll give you everything you want tonight.” He assures before pushing his fingers in even further, your heat entrapping him.

“Ah, f-fuck this feels better than my charms.

“You have sex charms?” He poses curiously. You were a book full of fairytales and he couldn’t wait to read you front in back until the last day of his life.

“I have charms for a lot of things.” You throw your head back in pleasure as he lets his fingers take control. “I-I can show them to you one day.” You let out a breath as you felt your orgasm nearing.

“Why not now?” He brought his thumb onto your clit and started rubbing figure eights circumoniously, while his fingers pistoned into you. If anyone were to ask him what his favorite pastime was he would cheekily answer that it was you falling apart because of him.

“Don’t need them...you make me cum.” You arched your back and pulled on your ropes as your orgasm flooded over you. You moaned Wonwoo’s name like an old incantation in your book of spells as he continued to help you ride out your orgasm.

You always looked beautiful to Wonwoo, like a goddess or an angel sent from above. But the way you looked when you fell apart underneath him, was breathtaking and he wanted to remember it forever.

“Did that feel good?” He takes his fingers out, his palm rubbing soothing circles against your thigh as he brings them up to his lips. Your spent pussy clenched over nothing as you watched him, eyes locked with yours savoring you.

You nod, “It was orgasmic.” You joked. Your weak attempt of a pun makes him laugh. You freed yourself from his poor attempt at binding you to the bed and sat up. Wonwoo watched you dreamily as you wrapped your arms around his neck planting a soft kiss to his wet lips.

“Make me cum again my prince.”

“I’ll make you cum until first light.”

Wonwoo kept true to his word, pulling four more orgasms from you. Each one more intense than the other and you found yourself craving for more, but he had stopped sensing your exhaustion.

He had been right earlier that night in the forest. You were strongest on Hallows Eve and underneath a blue moon, but when it came to Wonwoo you were weak. You didn’t mind it because it was to someone who would without a doubt catch you if you fell hard.

You had read it in his cards the first and only time you drew them for him. You didn’t voice it because his face when you had exposed his kinks was priceless. And because you feared that if you did you would lose him before you could tell him how you felt about him. You weren’t sure when you would but if he kept looking at you and holding you like you were his entire universe. You would without a doubt forget your fears and confess.

“I love you.” Wonwoo’s eyes got wide as he brought his hands up to his mouth covering it. “Sorry I—I fuck I-“

“I love you.” You copied his actions. The two of you letting the silence overcome your ragged breaths. Until he laughed, making you laugh as well. You grabbed his hand and brought it close to your body.

It was unbelievable how afraid the two of you had been when the two of you had unknowingly fallen for each other long ago. Wonwoo sat up on his elbows and moved so he was hovering over you again. “I’ve never once loved, and I’m sure I love you more than anything in this world.” He pecked your lips repeatedly before laying half of his body on yours carefully and putting his head against your chest humming happily.

“I once loved but I didn’t love them the way I love you Wonwoo.”

“That must mean I’m special princess.”

You rolled your eyes, your hands coming up to his shoulders and kneading out the tension that had formed over years of unnecessary stress. “Not a princess...but you’re more than special.”

“In my eyes you’ll always be my princess.” He left a chaste kiss against your collar bone. “But you’re more than special to me too baby, and since we’ve established that can you tell me what’s been bothering you all night.”

“Nothing’s bothering me, why are you asking?”

“You didn’t drink tonight and back when we were walking home you were spaced out half of the time.” He traced a finger up your side teasingly.

You sighed and stopped massaging his shoulders. He was right you had been distracted for half the night wondering how you should tell him the last secret you had. This one you couldn’t keep hidden away because it involved him and his biggest heartbreak.

“I drew a card from my deck this morning.”

He hummed and lifted his head, his eyebrows knitting together, “What was it, anything bad?”

You bit your lip, knitting your fingers into his hair. “The Empress, sometimes I read her as a fertility card an-“

“You’re pregnant?” Wonwoo sat up, your hand falling onto his chest. You giggled, shaking your head profusely. Your contraception charms were safer than any kind of contraception out there.

“God no Wonwoo, not now, but you told me your mom loved peonies right?”

“Yeah, the palace was always filled with them.”

“Okay well for days I’ve been seeing peonies pop up randomly around this place and I just thought it was a coincidence. When I drew my card this morning, The Empress was surrounded by peonies, but I really didn’t think anything of it. When I entered the tavern last night there were peonies in the flowerbed growing. And now that I think about it they were there too the night I met you.”

“What are you saying, that my mom is here somehow?” His voice was filled with hope and you tried hard not to cringe at the sound. The thought had crossed your mind a few times but you always had to remember that even though the supernatural existed peacefully in this world. That rule didn’t apply to the dead, they had strict rules on their side of the realm. If his mom was making an attempt to contact him he was sacrificing her chances at reincarnation.

“I’m saying that maybe your mom didn’t tell you who she really was.”

“Are you saying she was a witch like you?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt comfort. Everything about his childhood made sense. The random peonies that would appear in the garden during the mid of winter. The stories that didn’t feel like stories but more like memories. And her sudden death. He wasn’t sure if his father had known or if he had found out that morning, but whatever the case was he was positive that she had sent you to him. His greatest and last gift to him from her and had never felt more at peace.

“Yes.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fluff

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jipuragi · 4 years ago

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So Vincenzo is over!

It’s been an amazing ride even though I feel conflicted about the ending.

Part of how I process the emotional fall out from shows, is venting on here, and I want to get out how I feel about the Chayenzo ending for me. I totally understand that I am in the minority here, however Chayenzo ending was unsatisfying to me.

Negativity about the show and Vincenzo under the cut so you can scroll by without reading it!

When I say I’m unsatisfied by the Chayenzo ending, I am not saying I want a splashy wedding and a baby 9 months later.

I am not saying that Chayoung should give up her life and friends and law practice to skip off to Malta to be a mafia wife and drink cocktails and tan on the beach.

I am saying she deserves a clear love confession, and a conversation about what their relationship entails.

Vincenzo should have asked her if she wait for him in Korea, if she wants to go with him and help run his business or ask for her input in their relationship.

If she then says no, she doesn’t want that life and she prefers to stay in Korea, it would be satisfying that this is what she wants.

But they never talk about their future or even their present.

Their entire relationship is Chayoung pressing forward for both of them.

I am not impressed by Vincenzo …what...hugging her? and giving her a kiss?

Like, she took a bullet for him and hid his gold.

Bravo, Mafia Prick, you just did the basic. She took a bullet for you, gave you some happy memories with your mom, and helped find and hide your gold.

But bravo at initiating a hug and a kiss. I know with all your angsty man pain, that took all your emotional bandwith, which was why you couldn’t tell Chayoung that you love her.

Reminder that Vincenzo is a grown ass man. He can man up and have a direct fucking conversation.

That whole 'villains never break up and are tenacious in love' is cute and all but it’s not a confession.

Just like how part of an apology is directly saying ‘I am sorry’ to the person what was wronged, part of a love confession is saying ‘I love you’ to the person you love.

And tenacity?

Bitch, tenacious would be faking your death, creating a new identity and then settling down near the person you claim you love.

Shit, with all that gold and money, he could be Korea's Batman fighting crime his own way.

But he doesn’t want to give up that life, and you know, I do respect him knowing himself, however don’t paint that ending it gave Chayoung as a healthy one, because it’s not.

Vincenzo’s actions to me reek of wanting to have your cake and eat it too (have chayoung but at a distance) with a whiff of self sabotage (because if we wanna talk about fucking realism, realistically long distance relationships end) and this weird fatalism.

I really want to knock some sense into him.

#dont mind me im just really upset abt the ending #and i think i need to plot a fix it fic #like a real multichapter one #to explore everything #vincenzo #chayenzo #PLEASE DON'T TELL ME ABOUT THE APB OUT FOR HIM! BETWEEN HIS HACKER DAUGHTER #AND MR AN #THEY COULD HAVE FIGURED IT OUT

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jay-and-dean · 4 years ago

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Firefly Chapter 7 : Eighteen and twenty-eight years old

By Roonyxx and Jay-and-dean

Pairings : future Dean x reader ?

Summary : 40 years in Hell, but he didn’t spend all this time all alone, he had her.

Prepare to know what happened during those years Dean never talks about. To immerge yourself in Hell, only lit by the mysterious kid growing here…

And to see some of your favorite villains again : Crowley, Lilith, Lucifer… And also Sammy and Jack…

Serie Warnings : Hurt!Dean, Hell (torture, even if we tried to not give it graphic descriptions, creepy demons, blood, violence), swearing, angst, future fluff and smut.

This story is in both Reader’s POV and Dean’s POV

Wordcount : 4330

Note : This is our second collaboration. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like we did for Same.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

This story will be around 10 chapters and we intend to edit it every Saturday if nothing delays it.

Firefly Chapter 1

Firefly Chapter 2

Firefly Chapter 3

Firefly Chapter 4

Firefly Chapter 5

Firefly Chapter 6

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

——————————————————————————

She wasn’t moving at all. Sitting on the bench in the middle of this ocean of life, she watched people walk by. The sun had gone down now, after moving from building to building, making giant shadows change the whole city constantly.

She was overwhelmed, unable to move at all. Her eyes were drinking the world like new born baby’s ones. None of her muscles moved for hours, her fists clinging at her dress, her heart bleeding in silence for Dean.

A few people stopped to ask her if she was okay, but she couldn’t answer, her voice locked in her lungs…

But she finally got up.

After days of hiding in alleys, and walking on boulevards, escaping weird men yelling at her in the dark of night… It started to rain. A heavy, pouring storm rain that made her dress heavy and washed the dust out of her. And that warm loud summer rain somehow woke her from her torpor.

She had to live, and learn everything about life because that’s what Dean wanted for her… But Dean wasn’t here, and he will never be. So she came back to that bench, soaked and shaking, and started to cry for him. She had to be happy for the man she loved, and couldn’t without him…

Her tears only calmed with the rain that day. And even when her eyes stopped crying, her heart never stopped weeping for Dean a single second.

Not when she got up from that bench to find a map of the city on the subway station, not when she found clothes, and ripped that stupid dress of her body… It was still weeping when she first found people in the street and asked her where to find food. It was screaming inside her during her first night in a foster home for homeless people… When she fought for the first time to escape men again.

Her heart was weeping for Dean the first time she laughed, seeing cartoons in a TV store front, when she found out about drugs and abuse, cheating, wealth... when she started to be hungry, when she fell of exhaustion in an alley…

And even if her eyes stayed dry, her soul kept crying when the demons attacked.

Lilith had sent them after her as soon as the Queen noticed Y/n was no longer in Hell. She was hiding in an abandoned building when dozens of demons attacked her, she fought with teeth and nails to get them off and she won, but that wasn’t the end… Lilith kept sending more minions and, exhausted but determined to live, Y/n had only one option left.

She faked her own death. With the help of her powers and some research in the nearby library and in the maze of knowledge she had memorized over the years, she tricked the demons into believing she was dead, and used a certain pattern of sigils to hide herself, cloaked from every supernatural being.

Finally she was free.

So things went easier. After a little while, she met her own little angel : Sue. An older lady who offered Y/n shelter when she caught her dumpster diving her diner. Sue found Y/n a little odd at first, everyone thought that of her, but just as with every person Y/n had met on her way, Sue liked the happy girl she always seemed to be, enthusiastic about the very simpler things ; so she offered Y/n a job as a waitress in her diner.

_____________

Y/n’s window was rolled down as the loud music blasted through the speakers of her raven black 1967 Ford Mustang as she drove to work, still the same job at Sue’s diner. And she was smiling wide on her way, because she loved every single thing about this job.

She parked her car in the lot and made her way inside to take her light blue apron.

“Morning Y/n! How are you doing today sweetie ?” Sue asked.

“You know, same old same old.” Y/N shrugged.

Tying her apron on her, Y/n smiled kindly. She looked so different from what Dean had known, and hopefully different enough so no demon passing by ever recognized her. Her hair was tied together and no longer falling on a waterfall in her back. No more fancy dresses but only jeans and all the t-shirts she liked, with rock bands on it, or her favorite movies posters...

Sue sighed and put her hand on Y/n’s shoulder.

“Are you still working on freeing Prince Charming ?” she asked Y/n with an apologetic smile.

“Yes, I promised I would get him out and I won’t stop until he is” she said determinedly.

When Sue had just found Y/n she kindly offered her to stay at her house until she could get on her own feet. Y/n dreamed a lot about Dean, some dreams worse than the others, so after the third night of her guest screaming Dean’s name, Sue had asked her who he was. Y/n couldn’t tell her everything so she said he was the love of her life and was wrongly imprisoned, and that she had promised to get him out.

“He’s a very lucky guy to have you, Y/n” Sue told her.

“Yeah, I just… I miss him so much…” Y/n said as she made the last knot on her apron.

“I know sweetie, but if you truly love him, he’ll come back, just wait and see” she smiled with that protective expression she always had when it came to her protégée, even if she seemed sometimes perplexed about all those stories she told.

She gave her her note book to write down the orders.

“Yeah I hope so” Y/n clicked on her pen and made her way into the diner to take up the orders of all the customers.

It was a quiet day, she loved this little diner, the food was amazing and it even had a little jukebox she often used. It had given her a shelter, money to live, but also an identity and friends. A life.

Her smile faded like it did sometimes, Dean would have loved this diner too… She thought back to all the things she discovered on Earth.

She did everything Dean had told her about : She went to the movie theater, she learned how to drive (thanks to Sue), she had a date or four, went to a party, she got drunk a few times. She danced alone and with others, kissed a girl and travelled a little. Her appetite for life was never ending, so she had driven to the ocean and dived, she had smoked weird things once and ran in the forest, she had woke in the middle of the night to go buy ice-cream, she had sang in the shower and stayed home for an entire weekend crying while watching bad tv shows… And she even lost her virginity to a sweet boy. But nothing could get her mind off Dean, calm her weeping heart or divert her from her goal.

Every night she looked up at the stars and imagined him by her side, she could use her power to create an image of him that existed out of a million little stars, well more like a million little fireflies.

A lot of time had passed since she last saw him, her heart broke at the thought of him down there for so long. He must have forgotten her by now, if his soul even survived those many years.

A throat being cleared pulled her from her daydreaming. She turned to find a man smiling at her.

“Oh my apologies, what can I get you, sir ?” she asked the man, there was something unpleasant about him, he had dirty blonde hair and she didn’t like the way his blue eyes were traveling her up and down.

“Are you on the menu ?” he asked her with a sly smile.

Y/n sighed deep, why were a lot of men on Earth such… pigs ?

“No sorry, I was just joking” the man began. “I’ll take a coffee with some pancakes.”

Y/n wrote his order down and left with a forced smile.

He was the only customer today so Y/n handed the paper to Sue so she could make it and sat down at the little bar. She was watching the man in the mirror that hung on the other side of the counter. She couldn’t shake the eerie feeling she got from the man, he looked normal, but she could feel something… something powerful radiating off him.

The bell pulled Y/n out of her haze as she took the coffee and pancake to the man.

“Here you go sir, enjoy your meal” Y/n said as she dropped the food at his table.

“Thank you.”

She was starting to leave when his voice stopped her.

“Can I ask you a question, miss ?” he asked as he took a bite from the pancake.

“Yeah, of course” Y/n shrugged.

“You haven’t been here for long have you ?” he said as he looked at her.

“Uhm no, not very long. Are you from around here ?” Y/n asked, he was just a normal guy, it was impossible for anyone to find her anyway.

“Oh no not at all. But i didn’t mean this diner...” he kept on eating nonchalantly, he swallowed. “I meant Earth.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide, she turned and ran towards the exit only to bump into the man who was just sitting at the table behind her half a second ago.

“Who are you” Y/n asked as she stepped back from him

A deep sigh left his mouth.

“It hurts me that you even have to ask that, Y/n” he blinked and his irises turned to a fiery red.

Y/n ran towards the kitchen to get Sue. She pulled open the door and shrieked as her dear friend fell on her with her eyes burned out.

Dead.

“No ! Sue !” Y/n started shaking, cupping her friend’s face. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER ?” Y/n screamed to the man walking in casually.

“She put too much milk in my coffee, so I ended her” he shrugged nonchalantly.

Y/n stood up, her eyes a flare as she widened her arms to unleash her powers. Two fiery tentacles wrapped around the man’s legs.

“You’ll regret this” she said, her voice sounding like a thousand people at once.

The man gave her a sly smirk and snapped his fingers, her powers stopped immediately. She thrusted her hands forward to him, but nothing happened. Fear shone in her eyes as she looked at him in disbelief.

“It’s time we should head home, Y/n” he stepped closer to her, his fingers tilting up her chin.

“We have a family to start” he whispered against her lips with a dark chuckle.

“L-Lucifer” she gasped.

His arms wrapped tight around her and before she could blink she was back in Hell.

The suffocating smell of sulfur and blood made her cough, her whole body started to shake as she started to desperately gasp for air, her lungs crushed by the most powerful anxiety she ever felt. Her arms reached to her enemy in a pleading scratch, like he was strangling her…

“Home sweet home, baby” he cruelly cooed in her ear, his breath heavy on her skin.

She pried her arms between them to push out of his embrace. He chuckled as he let her go and she fell backwards, scrambling away from him.

“Stay away from me!” she finally managed to yell at him, her eyes flaring back to life as she was losing control over her powers.

He tilted his head at her as he watched her, his steps following her every move.

“You are such a pretty thing, I see some potential too. But I was told you were,” he hummed in thought “a pain in the ass. And I’m starting to see why.”

Her eyes were scanning everything, the bloody walls, the frozen air all around her, the never ending screams, the smell of fear and fire.

No she couldn’t be back in Hell…

With a turn of his wrist she was lifted up in the air, she tried to fight his power, but he was too strong… She couldn’t take on the Lord of Hell…

“Y/n, I’m only going to tell you that only once : You will obey and be helpful” he said with every step until he stood nose to nose with her, his eyes drinking her in.

She gave him a sweet smile before she spat in his face.

“Never” she told him.

His hand came up to wipe her spit away, he licked his hand clean, humming at her taste.

“As you wish, Y/n. Then my little slave needs chains...” he sneered.

Iron ropes wrapped around her as soon as the word left his lips, they burned into her flesh making her scream in pain. She fell heavy to the ground at his feet.

“For eternity” he finished as he sat down on his throne.

“No p-please, no chains… everything but chains” she begged him.

“Oh no baby, I know what you used to do when you’re set loose, but forget about that, he isn’t here anyway, no reason to go wandering. Jeal told me all about you and your little lover.” he said as he crossed his legs over each other.

“H-he isn’t ? H-How” she asked, suddenly able to ignore the pain of the iron digging in her flesh.

How was that possible ?

“He got out, Heaven’s plans. Now stop asking or I’ll gag you too” he sighed, looking at her. “I’ll make you your own little cage, like they did for me. No way you’ll get away from this one. And don’t think your daddy will help, he still thinks you’re dead. Everyone does.”

She whimpered in silence, only one thought on her mind. He was free…

Dean Winchester was alive.

________________________

Dean’s Pov

Dean woke up in a little painful whine, he opened his eyes and wiped the sweat off his face and neck, watching the ceiling, trying to focus on the contour of his body, the sheets and the pillow. He took a deep breath to calm his heaving chest.

Another nightmare.

And this one wasn’t the violent surviving of Purgatory, it wasn’t the burning guilt of old fights with John, the crushing pain of seeing Sam die ; it wasn’t the despair of losing Mary again, the disturbing memories of being a demon… It was the worst : Hell.

And among the worst, the tortures and the screams, tonight’s nightmare had to be about the cruellest idea demons ever came up with : fake hope.

In his dream, he was laying on the floor of his cell, barely able to breath because of the blood drowning his lungs, and he felt her hand, her tiny soft fingers wrapped around his wrist to ease his panic. She whispered sweet things to him but when he lifted his eyes to see her face, only Alastair was there, laughing loud and sharpening knives.

Dean stretched and shook his head, like he could get rid of those memories like that. He couldn’t let nightmares get to him, and he couldn’t let his past crush him.

With his guts still aching from the dream, he forced himself to get up. Staying in bed only made the memories clearer, and the trauma cut deeper. He knew only another hunt could ease the pain.

Maybe, just maybe, if he saved enough people, he would finally expiate.

The bunker was silent, even Sam was still sleeping so early in the morning. Walking to the kitchen, he frowned : His knee was still hurting and the bruises on his face and collarbones too.

Damn demon.

He turned to enter the kitchen and jumped a little.

“Hi Dean, sorry I scared you” Jack said, looking up from his bowl of cereal, his big eyes going to the hunter’s wounds quickly. “How are you ?”

“I’m fine. What are you doing up so early ?” Dean grunted, going straight to the coffee in his long grey robe.

“I have trouble sleeping lately” the boy answered, frowning in confusion like he often did.

“Try whiskey” Dean muttered low in a sleepy grunt.

“Alcohol is really not a solution to my problem I think” Jack turned to him, even more confused.

“I was kidding” he sighed, sitting in front of the young boy.

Sometimes Jack really was Castiel’s son…

The hunter scratched his scruff and took the cereal to plunge his hand in the box, eating some while reading the joke behind it.

“I hear a voice in my head” Jack sighed.

Dean looked up, ready to make a mocking joke but he noticed a genuine worry on the boy’s face.

“A voice ?”

“Yes” Jack searched Dean’s face. “At first I thought maybe I overheard something on the angel radio, but… It seems different.”

“What does it say ?”

“I don’t really understand it” Jack shrugged.

“Understand what ?” Sam asked, scratching his head while entering the room with his hair in every direction and the left side of his face still swollen and bruised. “Wow, everyone is up early this morning ! What am I missing ?”

“Jack says he hears a voice” Dean repeated, getting up to get coffee now it was ready. “But he doesn’t know where it comes from or what it says” he groaned slightly.

Please don’t let that be bad news again…

Dean sat heavily, rubbing his tired eyes while his brother interrogated Jack. How long had he been hearing the voices, were there several, was it constant… The boy only had a very few answers.

“We need to find where it comes from, Dean” Sam states, making his brother grunt again in his coffee mug.

That didn’t sound like a good old fight and kill hunt, it sounded like trouble.

_____________________

Dean pushed the heavy metal door and went down the stairs, overhearing his brother, Jack and Castiel talking in the library.

Reaching them, he almost threw the bag on the wooden table, not daring to ask any question seeing the three too serious faces looking at him.

“I guess no good news” he mumbled deep in his throat looking down to grab a beer from the bag.

“Dean” Castiel started with his worried voice, making the hunter look instantly slightly annoyed. “The voice comes from Hell.”

“Hell” Dean repeated casually, taking a sip of beer to wash the word from his mouth. “There are a lot of voices in Hell, it’s pretty loud down there.”

When his eyes fell on Sam, a shiver roamed his back. He had the face, Dean hated that face, the “you’re not going to like it” face. So he put his beer down on the table and sighed.

“What is it ?” he finally asked.

“The voice, Dean” Jack said. “It’s calling you.”

“Me” Dean’s eyes widened. “There can be another dude named Dean in Hell !”

“Dean…” Sam sighed. “Who could be calling you ?”

Dean’s first thought went to Bobby. They had freed him from Hell a few years ago, he was supposed to be in Heaven, and Crowley had decided differently… Maybe someone they lost ? An innocent locked in Hell by mistake ? But Rowena was on the throne now… Would she do that ?

“How can you hear a voice coming from Hell ?” he shook his head. “Do you hear them all ?”

“No” Jack said. “Only this one.”

Dean sat and took a deep breath, realizing this would mean that he would have to visit Hell... again. After those break in, the nightmares were always worse, and last time he had to deal with a panic attack in the shower.

“Okay” he stated. “What is the plan ? And how do we know it’s not a trap ?”

_____________________

“So your plan…” Rowena frowned from her throne, her long dress nonchalantly falling on the floor. “Is letting the boy follow a voice like a dog on a leash ?”

Dean’s face was stern, his arms tense, his heart a little compressed in his chest.

Each time he smelled that horrible sulfur mixed with blood smell, it was like he could feel the chains and the needles and hear Alastair’s voice all over again. Then he had two choices in his mind : Either he accepted it, and stayed with the demon’s croaky voice in his head for days, or focused on what had made him hold on for years back then : the secret girl’s soft touches ; but then the fear was replaced by the crushing feeling of despair and sadness, at knowing he had been fooled that bad, into believing innocence exited.

“More or less” his brother answered. “Rowena, you have to admit it’s something new… And if there are leaks in Hell…”

“Yeah yeah…” the witch sighed. “But don’t come crying when your little baby angel comes back traumatized. This is not a place for kids.”

Oh the irony.

“It’s not there” Jack cut them with a frown, looking around.

“What do you mean it’s not there ?” Dean grunted. “You were sure it came from Hell !”

“It does…” the boy stated. “Just deeper.”

“Deeper ?” Sam shook his head, but turned to Rowena, immediately trusting Jack as always. “Is there a basement in Hell ?”

“A basement ? Hell is a multi-dimensional…”

“Answer him” Dean cut her, losing patience.

Rowena got up and demons entered the room. She gave orders about getting the records, about the cage, and all. After a few very long minutes, a demon in an old man vessel came closer to the Queen, whispering something in her ear.

“Oh really ?” Rowena said. “Why am I not aware of all this ?”

“Because they’re all empty, your Majesty” the demon shrugged.

“What is ?” Sam insisted with a flustered move of his hands.

Rowena sat again.

“There are cages, like the one that held Lucifer once. Smaller ones, but for all we know, they are all empty.”

“For all you know ?” Dean raised his voice a little.

“No one uses them” Rowena shrugged.

“They held an angel during the war between Heaven and Hell” the demon spoke, his voice shaking a little, obviously uneasy in front of the Winchesters. “I-in the dawn of time, but the angel was killed by Lucifer before Michael locked him in the cage… We kinda forgot where they were.”

“Take us to them” Jack ordered Rowena with this frown of his.

Rowena looked to the demon that didn’t move, his eyes on Dean, like the hunter could suddenly decide to kill all of them.

“Merihem, take us to those cages” Rowena called him. “Chop chop.”

____________________

The light of Hell’s fire didn’t reach that deep in the pit, like the sun in the deepest ocean.

Dean was holding the torch like it was his lifeline in this vertiginous nightmare of deafening silence. Everything was threateningly pitch black, a perfect representation of the fear of dark, a big cold lonely nothingness… With stairs in the middle.

“I didn’t know there was anything deeper than Lucifer’s cage” the Queen’s voice echoed weirdly in the void.

Suddenly, the stairs stopped and Dean banged into metal bars. He lifted his torch to see what was behind it, but the cage was empty.

“It’s here” Jack whispered. “I can feel it.”

Sam opened the empty cage, his arm hair ruffling at the touch of the same metal that held his soul for so long.

“Nothing” he said, holding back his own trauma probably as hard as Dean did.

“Dean…” a weak voice made them all jump, coming from the dark.

“Who is this ?” the hunter grunted, taking a few unsure steps to the next cage, firmly holding his torch in front of him with an almost trembling arm.

“Dean…” the voice now whined.

Sam put his hand on his brother’s shoulder to make him wait for him. They looked at each other, using silent words and joining their flames to fight the pitch black ahead of them.

Even used to all kinds of nightmares, Dean wasn’t so reassured in the deepest of Hell, called by a weak and plaintive voice coming from the darkest of darks.

Something moved in the cage in a deafening metal noise, a shadow fleeing the light. The brothers both let out a shaky breath, moving closer with the demon and Rowena way behind them.

Dean swallowed, finally distinguishing a body, hunched in the opposite corner of the cage, shaking. Extremely long hair was falling around the pitiful form, chained heavily even inside the cage.

“Who are you ?” he asked again. “You’re calling me, why ?”

No answer.

“Who is this ?” Sam turned to the demon that had guided them.

“I-I have no idea” it answered. “No one came here in years !”

“Dean ?” the voice seemed to struggle thinking straight.

“Jeez” Sam muttered. “For how long has she been there ?”

She ? Dean thought, realizing now it was indeed a woman, her thin delicate hands were clinging to the floor.

His heart was racing in his chest, from being in Hell, from the fear of what he would find, and from something else, something confusing, like an emotion flying in the air around him.

The girl finally lifted her face to them, teary eyes frowned at the light of the flame, her shaking hand open in front of her to soften the burning of the torch.

Dean felt hit violently in the chest, his breathing stopped in a strangled gasp as everything he certainly knew started to crumble in the back of his mind. He opened his mouth but nothing came out… After swallowing twice, he finally managed to speak.

“Firefly ?”

Next Chapter on @roonyxx‘s blog

________________________

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oscopelabs · 4 years ago

Text

Christopher Nolan: The Man Who Wasn’t There by Daniel Carlson

So, we’ll start with the fact that all movies are make-believe. It’s a bunch of actors on a set, wearing costumes and standing with props picked out by hordes of people you’ll never see, under the guidance of a director, saying things that have been written down for them while doing their best to say these things so that it sounds like they’re just now thinking of them. We all know this—saying it feels incredibly stupid, like pointing out that water is wet—but it’s still worth noting. There is, for example, no such person as Luke Skywalker. Never has been, never will be. He was invented by a baby boomer from Modesto. He is not real.

And we know this, and that’s part of the fun. We know that Luke Skywalker isn’t real but is being portrayed by an actor (another boomer from the Bay Area, come to think of it), and that none of the things we’re seeing are real. But we give ourselves over to the collective fiction for the greater experience of becoming involved in a story. This is one of the most amazing things that we do as humans. We know—deep down, in our bones, without-a-doubt know—that the thing we’re watching is fiction, but we enter a state of suspended reality where we imagine the story to be real, and we allow ourselves to be moved by it. We’ve been doing this since we developed language. The people telling these stories know this and bring the same level of commitment and imagination and assurance that we do as viewers, too. The storyteller knows that the story isn’t real, but for lack of a better way to get a handle on it, it feels real. So, to continue with the example, we’re excited when Luke Skywalker blows up the Death Star because he helped the good guys win. For us viewers, in this state of mutually reinforced agreement, that “happened.” It’s not real, but it’s “real”—that is, it’s real within the established boundaries of the invented world that we’ve all agreed to sit and look at for a couple of hours. Every viewer knows this, and every filmmaker acts on it, too. Except:

Christopher Nolan does not do this.

There’s no one single owner or maker of any movie, and anyone who tells you different has their hand in your pocket. But there’s an argument to be made that when somebody both writes and directs the movie, it’s a bit easier to locate a sense of personhood in the final product. (This is all really rough math, too, and should not be used in court.) Christopher Nolan has directed 11 films to date, and while his style can be found in all of them, his self is more present in the ones where he had a hand in the shaping of the story—and crucially, not just that, but in the construction of the fictional world. Take away the superhero trilogy, the remake of a Norwegian thriller, the adaptation of a novel, and the historical drama, and Nolan’s directed five films that can reasonably be attributed to his own creative universe: Following (1998), Memento (2000), Inception (2010), Interstellar (2014), and Tenet (2020). These movies all involve themes that Nolan seems to enjoy working with no matter the source material, including identity, memory, and how easily reality can be called into question when two people refuse to concede that they had very different experiences of the same event. Basically, he makes movies about how perception shapes existence. How he does this, though, is unlike pretty much everybody else.

Take Inception. After a decade spent going from hotshot new talent to household name (thanks to directing the two highest-grossing Batman movies ever made, as well as the first superhero movie to earn an Oscar for acting), he had the credit line to make something big and flashy that was also weird and personal. So we got an action movie that, when first announced in the Hollywood trades, was described as being set within “the architecture of the mind.” Although this at first seemed to be a phrase that only a publicist could love, it turned out to be the best way to describe the film. This is a film, after all, about a group of elite agents who use special technology to enter someone’s subconscious dream-state and then manipulate that person’s memories and emotions. The second half of the film sees team leader Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) and the rest of the squad actually descend through multiple nested subconsciouses to achieve their goal, even as they’re chased every step of the way by representations of Mal (Marion Cotillard), Dom’s late wife, who committed suicide after spending too much time in another’s subconscious and lost the ability to discern whether she was really alive or still in the dream-world.

I say “representations” because that’s what they are: Mal is long dead, but Dom still feels enormous guilt over his complicity in her actions, and that guilt shows up looking like Mal, whose villainous actions (the representation’s actions, that is) are just more signs of Dom not being able to come to grips with his own past. It’s his own brain making these things up and attacking itself, and it chases his entire crew down three successive layers of dream worlds. You get caught up in the movie’s world as a viewer, and you go along because Nolan is pretty good at making exciting movies that feel like theme-park rides. You accept that Dom and everybody else refer to Mal as Mal and not, say, Dom. Dom even addresses her (“her”) when her projection shows up, speaking to her as if she’s a separate being with her own will and desires and not a puppet that he’s pretending not to know he’s controlling. It’s only later that you realize that the movie is in some ways just a big-budget rendition of what it would look like to really, really want to avoid therapy.

Which is what makes Nolan different from other filmmakers:

None of this is actually happening.

Again, yes, it’s happening in the sense that we see things on screen—explosions, chases, a fight scene in a rotating hallway that’s still some of the best practical-effects work in modern action movies—but within the universe of the film, none of what’s going on is taking place in the real world. It’s all unfolding in the subconsciouses of Dom’s teammates. In the movie’s real world, they’re all asleep on a luxury jet. They’re “doing” things that have an outcome on the plot, but Nolan sets more than half the movie inside dreams. It’s a movie about reality where we spend less time in reality than in fantasy. Half the movie is pretend.

For Nolan, filmmaking is about using a dazzling array of techniques to create a visual spectacle that distracts the viewer from the fact that the real and true story is happening somewhere else: in the fringes we can’t quite see, in the things we forget to remember, or even in the realm of pure speculation.

Memento arrived like (and with) a gunshot. It seemed to come out of nowhere and leave people struggling to describe it, and they usually wound up saying something like “it goes backward, but also forward at the same time, except some parts are actually really backward, like in reverse, so it’s maybe a circle?” Written by Christopher Nolan from an idea originally shared with him by his brother, Jonathan (who eventually turned it into a very different short story titled “Memento Mori”), the film follows a man named Leonard (Guy Pearce) who has anterograde amnesia and can’t form new memories, so every few minutes he sort of just resets and has to figure out where he is, what he’s doing there, and so on. He’s on the hunt for the man who attacked him and his wife, leaving his wife dead and Leonard in his present condition, which you can imagine does not make the gathering and synthesis of clues easy.

What’s more, Nolan puts the viewer in Leonard’s shoes by breaking the film’s linear timeline into two halves—call them A and B—and then alternating between them, with the added disorientation coming from the fact that one of those timeline halves plays out backward, with each successive scene showing what happened before the one you previously saw. So, if you numbered all the scenes in each timeline in chronological order, they’d look something like this when arranged in the final film: Scene A1, Scene B22, Scene A2, Scene B21, Scene A3, Scene B20, etc. You get why it messed with people’s heads.

As a result, we spend most of the movie pretty confused, just like Leonard, whose suppositions about what might or might not take place next begin to substitute for our own understanding of the film. It’s not until the end that we find out the shoe already dropped, and that Leonard killed the original attacker some time ago and has since been led on a series of goose chases by his cop friend, Teddy (Joe Pantoliano), who’s planting fake clues to get Leonard to take out other criminals. In other words, we realize that the story we thought was happening was pretend, and the real story was happening all around us, in the margins, memories, and imaginations of the characters. The most honest moment in the movie is the scene where Leonard hires a sex worker to wait several minutes in the bathroom while he gets in bed, then make a noise with the door to wake him, at which point his amnesia has kicked in again and he briefly thinks that the noise is being made by his wife. He’s wrong, of course, but this is the only time in the movie that we actually know he’s wrong. It’s the only time we truly know what’s real and what isn’t.

Yet you can’t talk about Memento without talking about Following, Nolan’s first feature. Although the film’s production was so extremely low-budget you’d think they were lying—the cast and crew all had day jobs and could only film on the weekends, so the thing took a year to make—Nolan’s willingness to dwell completely in a make-believe world that the viewer never knows about is already evident. It’s about a bored young writer who starts following strangers through the city for kicks, only for one of those strangers to catch him in the act and confront him. The stranger introduces himself as Cobb—I kindly submit here that it is not a coincidence that this is also Leonardo DiCaprio’s character’s name in Inception, but you already knew that—and reveals himself to be a burglar, spooked by the tail but willing to take on an apprentice. Cobb trains the writer to be a burglar, only for the situation to ultimately wind up implicating the writer himself in a complex blackmail plot. You see, the writer didn’t latch onto Cobb in a crowd; Cobb lured him in. The whole movie has been Cobb’s story all along, with the writer as a patsy who doesn’t understand the truth until the final frame. None of what we saw mattered, and everything that actually happened happened off-screen just before or just after we came in on a given scene. It’s like realizing the movie you’re watching turned out to be just deleted scenes from something else. You can’t say Nolan didn’t show his hand from the start.

That same general concept—that the movie we’re watching is actually the knock-on effect of a movie we’ll only glimpse, or maybe never even see—underpins Nolan’s latest movies, Interstellar and Tenet, too. Interstellar has some concepts that are iffy even for Nolan (it makes total sense for someone to do something for another out of love, but somewhat less sense that that love somehow reshapes the physical universe), but it’s still a big, bold approach to exploring how time and perception shape our actions. As the film follows its core group of astronauts while they search for potentially habitable new worlds, they encounter strange visions and experiences that turn out to be their handiwork from the future reflected back at them. Sure, it raises the paradoxical question of whether they had a first mission before this that failed, so now their future selves are intervening to make the second one (which feels like the first one to the astronauts the whole time) successful, and all sorts of other stuff that your sophomore-year roommate would like to talk with you about in great detail. But so much of what we see isn’t the stuff that happens, or that winds up being important. There’s the great scene where the astronauts land on a planet near a black hole, which is wreaking havoc on how time passes on the planet. A minor disaster delays their departure for the main ship still in orbit, but when the landing team returns, they find that more than 20 years have “passed” since they left, with the one remaining team member on the ship having spent more than two decades waiting for them to return. It’s a moment of genuine horror, and it underscores the fact that what we thought was the one true reality was just the perspective of a handful of characters we happened to follow for a few minutes. There were whole things happening that changed the plot and story and direction of everything that would follow, and we never saw them; we didn’t even know we’d missed them.

Tenet is, of course, the latest and most recursive exploration yet of Nolan’s obsession with showing us a story that turns out to be mostly fake. It is almost perversely hard to even begin to explain the film (Google “Tenet timeline infographic” and have fun). One way to think about it is to imagine if the two timeline halves from Memento somehow existed at the same time, with people moving both forward and backward through time while inhabiting the same location. Basically, some scientists figured out how to “invert” the basic entropy of objects, so that they exist backward: you hold out your hand and the ball on the ground leaps up into it, because you’ve dropped it in the future, so now you can pick it up, etc. … Look, it doesn’t get easier to understand.

The upshot is, though, that we spend the film following the Protagonist (that’s his name), a CIA agent played by John David Washington, as he’s tasked with tracking down the source of the inverted stuff to figure out what’s unfolding in the future and why it’s suddenly started to make itself known in the present. He gets marginally closer to understanding the truth by the end of the film, but because this is a Nolan film that is maybe more expressly about the nature of reality than anything he’s ever done, his journey doesn’t so much take him forward as it does in a large circle. Because, and stop me if you’ve heard this, the true story of Tenet is taking place outside the Protagonist’s actions and knowledge, alongside him but invisible, often steered by people who themselves are moving “backward” through time and thus have already met the Protagonist in the future and are old friends with him by the time he meets them in his youth. Even more brain-liquefying, some of these people have been working under the orders of the Protagonist himself—the future version, that is—because his past self has already achieved the victories that allowed him to send the future people backward through time to meet his younger self so they’d achieve the victories that allow him to etc., etc., etc.

With Tenet, Nolan didn’t just make a movie that challenged perception, like Memento, or that dwelt in fiction, like Inception. He made a movie that can only be understood (to whatever degree true understanding is possible) by rewatching the movie itself, over and over, as the multiple timelines and harrowingly complex bits of cause and effect come into some kind of focus. The whole movie itself isn’t happening, in a sense, but is just the ramifications of something else, the echoes of a shout whose origin we’re straining to pinpoint. It both is and isn’t.

Christopher Nolan is a talented director of action-driven suspense thrillers. He’s canny at controlling the audience’s emotions, and he knows how to put on a dazzling show. Plus he’s fantastic at picking when to deploy non-computer-generated effects for maximum impact. But you could say that about a lot of other directors, too. What sets Nolan apart from the rest, and what makes him a director to keep watching and returning to, is the teasing way his movies wind up being just deceptive enough to fool you into thinking that you know what’s going on, then just harsh enough to disabuse you of that notion. Looking at what seems to drive him, I don’t think Tenet is his best movie-movie, but it’s his most-Nolan movie. It’s almost a culmination of his continuing efforts to tell stories where what you see and what actually happens are two different things. It’s not that he makes puzzles to solve. There is no solving these movies. Rather, it’s that he sculpts these delicate artifacts that only let you see two dimensions at a time, never all three, no matter how you twist your head. Craning back and forth, you can almost see the whole thing, but not quite. Some part of it will always have to exist in your memory. And that’s where Christopher Nolan likes to be.

#chrisopher nolan #tenet #memento #following #following movie #christopher nolan film #inception #inception film #memento film #tenet film #interstellar #interstellar film #oscilloscope laboratories #musings #film writing #beastie boys

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stellar-imagines · 4 years ago

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SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝hey, Mr. Villain.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku (Villain) ]

「Scenario of Villain Deku with reader who's an information broker. The two met one another in a bar and has a really interesting relationship with one another. The reader sells information to both heroes and villains, completely disregarding their status.」

MIDORIYA IZUKU (VILLAIN)

Sometimes, you weren't sure which side you were on. Was it on the good side or the bad side? But all you knew that things like these were fun. Surely, this line of work isn't something your parents would be proud of. Then again, you could no longer remember their faces after being abandoned by them and sent to an orphanage. You were what people would call an information broker. Selling information was very fun. Not only you could name any price you wanted but you could witness the chaos and conflict that erupts. There were heroes and villains who knew of you but you were always equal to your clients, no matter what side they belong to.

The only reason you were only able to run free was thanks to the heroes and villains who kept your existence a secret from one another. One of your favorite places to trade information was a small bar in the back alley and it was known to very few people. You have befriended the bartender who happened to be the owner. He was a man no older than 40, someone very knowledgable about alcohol. You find yourself sitting by the bar, shrugging off your vest, and stretching your arms. The bar was empty, the seats were unoccupied. The bartender quickly acknowledged your presence and smiled at you.

"Good evening, [Last Name]-san. A long day at work, I suppose?" the man began to prepare your drink while you made yourself comfortable. There was gentle music playing in the background, one that soothed your nerves. A soft sigh left your lips as you rested your elbows onto the table, supporting your head with your left hand.

"You know it. Anyway, you have to hear this, barkeep. There was a car crash today. I was trading information with a mafioso and apparently the information he just traded with me was top secret. Later that day, it's reported that he's hospitalized from the car crash." you said while the bartender gently placed a coaster and a glass filled with some liquid over it.

"Then I was almost killed because my client slipped out the fact that he had passed on the information before being taken away. Well, I managed to escape."

You grabbed hold of the glass and swirled in the contents as the ice clinked against the walls of the cup. A river of clear-golden cider flowing over crystal cubes. The glass was then raised to your lips and you inhaled the scent of your drink. A sip was all it took. The taste is like a hypothetical melted scoop of apple gelato. It's as if you were drinking the juice from ten apples in one gulp—multiplied by alcohol. It has a nice tartness without becoming syrupy sweet. The taste had you humming and sighing in the content. The stress from putting your life on the line was suddenly washed away.

"Almost all critical and classified information in the world is in your hands. Your head's full of them that's more valuable than gold. There must be as many enemies as there are stars in the sky who wish to torture you for information." the bartender was busy wiping glasses as he said this.

"But you seem so happy." he smiled.

"Well, it's because the information seems to be interesting and I look forward to others that might mix things up a bit in this case. Because I have a feeling it's far from over." you chuckled gently.

You always appeared to be an innocent civilian outside your work. You didn't have any friends at all aside from the bartender and probably the very few people you always traded information with. While you drank, you had your phone in your right hand, looking through the news on heroes. They seem to be performing well recently, stopping villain attacks, helping, and protecting civilians. In a way, your job is helping people but its completely different from what heroes normally do.

A plain white long-sleeved top finished off with a black vest, a tie, and black trousers. If he weren't sitting two seats away from you with a drink in hand, you would easily mistake him as a bartender. His face looked a bit young, framed by a short mess of fluffy dark-green hair that sticks up at odd angles. Somehow it looks really fluffy too. His eyes are large and somewhat circular, their irises the same green color as his hair. He has a set of four symmetrical freckles in diamond formations, one on each cheek. You recognized him as one of the most notorious villain.

"So you're the infamous informant broker?" he spoke first.

"And you're the villain, Deku right?" you asked.

"Oh! Am I that famous?" he perked up.

You chuckled at the sight of his face lighting up in surprise. Sure it probably was him just messing around with you and faking an expression. Deku smiles at you in response and you couldn't help but think that he looked quite attractive despite being a villain. You've heard a lot of rumors about him but honestly, this was your first time seeing him face to face like this. And you couldn't help but think that he's quite attractive. Overall he looks innocent but you've met countless villains before and you could see the crazed look in his eyes.

"So, you needed something from me? You're quite lucky to run into me in this getup." you said, setting down your drink back onto the coaster.

"Are you implying that this is how you really look?"

Your quirk was a strong one but you never really used it for combat, you often it used to hide your identity and to escape. The name given to your quirk was Illusion. It revolves around the use of illusions, allowing you to create illusions that deceive many people. You can also determine who sees and hears the illusions and who doesn't. When the targets strike the illusions, they will break after a few hits. You often used your quirk to change your appearance and sneak into places, it was easy to deceive cameras and people with a little bit of acting.

"Perhaps." you shrugged with a coy smile.

Deku was surprisingly a talkative person and a smooth talker. You've had your fair share of guys that flirted and tried to pick you up but none of them actually caught your interest. Most of the time, you would do this for the sake of obtaining information. But with Deku, you were genuinely interested in whatever topics he brought up. It was as if you were talking with one of your old friends. You felt at ease and even thought that lowering your guard wouldn't be a problem at all. Then again, the bar was a quiet place with only you, Deku, and the bartender inside. He was a gentleman through and through, even going as far as to pay for your drinks.

The two of you had an odd relationship. You both flirted with one another often, acting like lovers when you're actually not. However, you couldn't deny that Deku is an attractive person.

You’d always meet Deku in the same bar at the same time. Sometimes he’d pay for your drinks and sometimes you’d pay for his. He was probably one of the very few people that actually meet up with you just to spend some time instead for information. He often went on about his day, talking about how he just got rid of an organization that was using his name, spreading false rumors which caused other organizations to attack them. It was very interesting for you to hear him talk about his thrilling life. As an information broker, you often assisted people who're living a lifestyle where they know they could lose your life at any moment was to be expected.

It was the kind of lifestyle you can never relate to. Of course, just like any other human, you feared death. You preferred listening to stories of people living that lifestyle you could never imagine yourself in. You actually loved watching from a distance whenever a fight breaks out. It's like watching an action movie for free and thanks to your quirk, you get a front-row seat to it.

"Damn, they’re at it again."

"What's it this time?"

"The port on the north, there was a fight between two organizations and it blew up!"

You heard people whispering about that while you were walking around town. At that moment, you recalled blurting out that a certain organization was planning on shipping high-quality explosives to Yokohama. The only people you told that to were ones that were really close to you. As you stepped into the bar, you were greeted warmly by the bartender and the music. Your eyes landed on the familiar figure sitting by the counter, casually sipping their drink and looking like he has been here for quite a while.

"That was quite an explosion, Deku-kun!" you exclaimed, skipping over and taking a seat next to the man. He let out a chuckle in return, his posture was relaxed and just by looking at him, he was giving off an innocent vibe.

"Hm? What are you talking about?" he feigned innocence with a smile.

The two of you conversed like usual. It was all over the news that there were theories that Deku was the culprit behind this explosion but the police didn't have enough evidence. On the other hand, you had been observing the whole incident from a very safe place. It was very thrilling, there were quirkless people with weapons and a ton of action. The explosion was one that attracted attention and woke up countless of people. Despite being within a safe distance, the heat from the explosion and the noise managed to deafen your ears. You knew that it was him because you only remembered babbling about it while you were in the bar. What’s more, it wasn’t a fight between two organizations. It was only Deku single-handedly destroying the entire port.

”Maybe I should’ve become a detective instead.” you hummed.

”No way. This job suits you well.” Deku said with an innocent smile, leaning against you.

”With that innocent vibe you give off and your quirk.....And not mention, your irresistible charm and draws in men.” Deku takes hold of your hand and gently strokes the back of your hand with his gloved hand.

“Don’t tell me that you’ve fallen in love with me?” you teased playfully.

”Perhaps I have.” Deku answers within a heartbeat. He sounds pretty serious for once, dropping the playful smirk that he usually has. But that serious look disappeared and was replaced with that usual grin he had. He chuckled and told you that he was just joking. You rolled your eyes in response and watched as he sipped his drink.

"Any man would be lucky to have you as a girlfriend. I know I would be." Deku rested his elbow on the counter, holding his cheek with his hand and looking at you.

"Is that your way of asking me out?" you smiled cheekily at him.

"Not today sweetheart. I will ask you out in a way that will blow your mind." Deku said with a confident smirk. You could only smile at him.

"I look forward to it."

On the next night, instead of heading to the bar, you decided to head elsewhere. The streets were still busy with people crossing the road and cars passing by. However, you took another road that was small and vacant. You were closing in on an abandoned building by the port which was currently used as a storage. As you looked up into the sky, you could see a few heroes flying in the air and making their way to the same destination as you were. You laid low, ensuring that no cameras and people caught you snooping around.

When you arrived at the abandoned storage building, you could hear a conversation going on while you sneaked into the building, and found the perfect spot to watch everything unfold. This kind of information will really sell well, especially to the news reporters. You kept quiet, holding onto a voice recording tool as you sit atop a bunch of crates, swinging your legs back and forth.

"Villain Deku. On the criminal charges of complicity in 140 murders, 67 cases of extortion, and sundry other crimes. You are under arrest."

"I guess I have finally been caught." Deku raised his hands in defeat. He was out of tricks, even injured from fighting against heroes. He was laying atop of broken crates, blood running down his face and his body ached all over. His wounds weren't that major but if he moved, it was still painful. Not to mention, his pristine white dress shirt was soaked in his own blood.

Deku finds himself closing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

"Hey, Deku. Do you want to live?"

Your familiar voice caused him to open his eyes. He has never felt this relieved to see you here. Seeing you smiling at him made him smile too. His gaze softened into the one that you’re used with, one that was playful and loving.

All of a sudden, the moon emerged from its hiding spot behind the clouds. The moonlight cast a silhouette over your figure and with the help of your quirk, you were well disguised, looking like a completely different person. You stood at the top of a stack of crates and the spot where the moonlight shone onto the building. Using your quirk, you changed your appearance, from your hair to your clothes. Instead of making yourself visible to only Deku, you decided to reveal yourself to everyone. While everyone still has their attention on you, you hopped off the crate and landed on your feet gracefully. The people Deku were fighting against heroes who were looking into the port explosion incident.

"Oh! You came to save me?" Deku's eyes gleam in surprise.

"I can't have you dying." you stood in front of the villain who was knocked down with debris of the crates scratched up his skin. You paid no heed to the heroes who were telling you to get out of the way and wondering whether you were an accomplice or not.

"Not when you promised me a date."

"What kind of magic are you gonna show me today?" Deku finds himself smiling at you. He knows the full extent of your quirk and has seen you actually use it before. It was very versatile. You could create a smokescreen and use that chance to escape. Or you could create illusions of soldiers to distract the heroes and escape. Honestly, the things you could do were endless. You pulled out a grenade from your pockets and waved it around.

"Nothing. Just a simple old grenade." you grinned.

You both miraculously escaped despite your half-assed way of escaping. Normally, you always planned everything carefully to avoid people looking for you. However, you just felt like taking a risk today. You took Deku to your apartment to patch him up. This was your very first time actually bringing someone to your apartment and you couldn't believe that Deku was the first-ever person you've brought.

"I feel like I just did something really bad." you muttered to yourself as you gathered the medical supplies you had laid out.

"Would you feel better if I took you out on a romantic date as thanks?"

"Maybe."

Total: 2595 words Published: 09.09.2020

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ First time writing for villain Deku! Hope you liked it anon! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! How does one write for villain Deku? Our very first time But we hope you enjoyed this, anon! ― author Natsuki

Requests are open! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

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Marinette: Blood Of Steel

Another Quick one-shot. It’s Marinette in the world of Young Justice. I loved Young Justice. Connor was my favorite. And I thought what the hell

Marinette had always known she was adopted. Mostly because she wasn’t born. She was created in a laboratory with a boy she would later call her brother. But unlike him, Marinette was a mistake. She was near perfect, but that wasn’t enough.

She was meant to be a clone of Superman. Someone to seemingly replace the man of steel without anyone noticing. She couldn’t do that obviously being female.

Gina, a woman she now called her grandmother, was a scientist on Project Kr. She had given the tasks to destroy the clone. Marinette had been biologically she was 10 weeks old, physically she had was she was ten-years-old. Gina couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill a little child, no matter who’s DNA laid her blood. Not that she had a problem with Superman, having just been in it for the love of science.

So she fakes the clone’s death and stole her away. She gave it her son and daughter-in-law who had been struggling for a child for nearly a decade. Gina made them promise to avoid anything related to Lex Luther, as he was the main benefactor of Cadmus and the source of the baby girl’s human DNA. She warned them of the powers the girl might develop and to keep them of the down-low.

Tom and Sabine Clara Marinette Dupin-Cheng, after the known name of the alien superhero Kal-El. They called her Marinette for safety.

When Marinette was eleven-years-old, physically, she met her brother; Superboy. He had found her. Marinette thought that it was because technically, they were twins; that he could sense in the same way she could sense him. She had known the moment he had been broken out of Cadmus. She didn’t know how but she did know.

They had met on the rooftop of the bakery. He was had been at Cadmus longer and was sixteen. He had looked confused, lost, and hurt.

“Connor,” He said gruffly, eyeing the small girl.

“Clara,” She introduced herself back, deciding then and there, that unlike everyone else in her life, he would be allowed to call her that.

Marinette took him by the hand and led him to the living room. She gave him cookies and milk and watched TV together until they had both been lulled into a sense of security.

Then Marinette told him how she came to live in France and all about her life. Connor told her he had always been awake for a few months and just gotten a name. They talked for hours.

Much like Connor, Marinette’s powers were limited. Marinette could fly and had laser vision. Connor had super strength, superhearing, and infrared vision. They both had super healing and invulnerability. Neither had the superspeed or any other powers Superman possessed.

Connor ended up staying with the small family for a few weeks; having been more welcomed there than he’d been anywhere in his entire life. Tom had shown him how to bake pies. (Connor loved pies). Sabine took him shopping. Marinette taught him video games, and reminded him every day that she was his sister, he was her brother, and they were family. It was nice. It was easy. He wished it could last forever. But nothing good in his life seemed to.

One day, Connor heard him, Superman, flying over Paris, speaking with Watchtower, about finding him.

With a sigh, Connor told his little sister had to go. He decided he wouldn’t reveal Clara's existence without her permission so he found himself in the desolate area and called her the Man of Steel.

Superman landed in front of him with a disappointed look on his face, “We were worried.” Then he was blasted thirty feet back into the trees. When Kal-El looked up, he saw a little dark-haired girl, in a red superman shirt, with glowing red eyes.

She had followed Connor to meet Superman.

She floated above him, “You should be worried,” She hissed at him. The red slowly faded from her eyes leaving startling blue orbs, identical to the boy standing next to her, like Superman’s own. “My name is Clara Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You were mean to my brother. You were negligent. You were a bad dad. And if you keep it up, I’ll be the one to end you. Not Connor.”

The laughter of Batman, Wonder Woman, and the Black Canary, from where they watched from the Watchtower, filled Superman’s earpiece.

Marinette landed in front of Connor, and stood protectively in front of him, with her arms on her hips. “Do better,” She orders Superman. “Be better.”

Superman stood up and eyed the clones… No!

His children; his son who, Clark now knew after reviewing video of his clone’s time with the young justice team, had inherited his sunny disposition, and his daughter, who radiated righteous fury that she got from the Superhero.

“I’m… sorry,” Clark blurted.

Connor blinked in surprise. Marinette just nodded stiffly, “I don’t care if you don’t want to be apart of our lives. But you will not treat us like monsters.”

A long conversation later, and peace was made between the three. Clark was brought to meant Marinette’s parents, who were quick to chastise the hero and make the offer of letting Connor live with them.

But Clark had already decided before he flew to France that Connor would live with him. He would have liked Clara or Marinette, as she was called, to live with him too but he wouldn’t take her away from her family.

Instead, plans were made for the young girl to train every weekend with Clark and Connor, as a family.

A few weekends later, Clara was introduced to the Kents who marveled at their new granddaughter.

The next year, Marinette spent the entire summer split between Metropolis and Smallville. Clark also took her and Connor to the fortress of solitude where the two children were given their Kryptonian names.

Connor Kent was called Kon-El.

Clara Marinette Dupain-Cheng was called Klara El.

Unfortunately during this time, Lex Luthor had paid special attention to his old friend, and on and of again nemesis. He knew who Connor was, and had for quite some time. Lex had always known and would always know where his son was.

However, the sight of a dark-haired, blue-eyed girl in a red superman shirt flying with Superman brought up a few questions for him.

It didn’t take long for Lex to uncover the seemingly failed female clone of Superman; all evidence said the experiment had been destroyed.

As Lex stared at the picture had of Clara Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a Parisian girl who just turned thirteen, dressed in pink with the same blue eyes and dark hair of his rival, he knew that the data was wrong.

Less than forty-eight hours later, the bald man walked into the French bakery. Cool blue eyes man green, as Marinette eyed her… other father suspiciously from where she stood behind the counter.

Luckily the bakery was having a slow day, and it was empty.

“I come in peace, Clara,” Lex smiled. “I mean you no harm. There’s no reason to worry. Or alert the big man in blue or the league. I have a talk with my daughter.”

A slow smirk spread across Marinette’s face. It reminded Lex so much of his own that he briefly wondered if the backup he’d brought just in case would be enough.

“Oh,” Marinette practically sang as her eyes narrowed in a challenge. She wouldn’t use her powers against him. She was smarter than that. She’d gotten Lex’s intelligence, after all. And she knew things that the Light, LexCorp, and Cadmus had done their best to hide. Lex came into the bakery thinking he had the upper hand and would get whatever he wanted with just a bit of blackmail. But as far as Marinette was concerned this was a business meeting and negotiations were just about to start. “I’m not the one who should be worried.”

She was clearly the daughter of the Man of Steel. However, by the end of that day, no one would ever forget, she was Lex Luthor’s little girl too.

#ml fic #Young Justice #clark kent #Superman #lex luthor #Marienette Dupain Cheng #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #connor kent #superboy

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princess-of-the-corner · 4 years ago

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Human After All: I'd like to know more about A) Lust realizing that Hohenheim had an actual life in Resembool and B) everyone's reactions to Ed and Al sneaking off to do the human transmutation and the aftermath.

Oh boy here we fuckin go!!!!!

Lust realizing that Hohenheim had a life in Resembool:

Oh boy. Okay so this has some setup.

When Lust first meets Ed and Al, she assumes the situation is a lot different. Basically They're close enough to be mistaken for twins, so she thought it was more "one night stand and disappeared from town but their mom remembered the name and told the kids". Because... Why would he stay?

But then Lust babysits Ed and Al on a trip back to Resembool to visit Winry and her grandma. And like.

Lust gets curious about some things. And she happens to see a photo album out that she can't help but look through.

Of course Granny finds her snooping but just lets her look through it and explains that it's from Winry's parents' wedding. And Lust eventually flips to a page where Hohenheim is in the photo.

Lust pauses on it because it's so strange. First in general, of how Hohenheim looks just like Father but also nothing like him at the same time. Physically identical, but the way they carry themselves is.. Entirely different.

Especially as this picture is kinda goofy. Granny tells her how everyone was hinting to Hohenheim that he should marry Trisha since they were already "basically married". And the newly married Sarah Rockbell had given up pn subtly, and chucked her boquet right at Hohenheim's face with a "sorry I was aiming for Trisha!"(which no one belives because she has incredible aim).

Lust asks more on that. And Granny mentions how Hohenheim and Trisha had been together for a bit amd were already living in the same home. And that pretty much immediatly after that whole "lack of subtly" the pair decided "despite not going through legal paperwork we are married now fuck you' and also bonus pregnancy announcement. Which has Lust relize Ed and Al aren't twins.

But it's weird to her. Because like. Hohenheim had a life here? He was with this woman for a few years and essentially got married (clearly the "don't go through the paperwork" is because he doesn't legally exist). But like. He had a wife and kids. One of the kids seems to have been actually planned. Why would he do that? And why did he leave? No one has answers on that, but Granny says that if he did leave, it was for good reasons. Not whatever the town gossips make up for fun.

Granny is a little sus about Lust's interests in all this because like. I kiiinda mentioned this before on my artblog but he way I draw Lust she actually looks a lot like "if Ed was a girl" and considering how much Ed looks like Hohenheim... They basically look somewhat related. Granny points that out and kinda pulls some Gaslight Girlboss Gatekeep of "nope no relation whatsoever my father just worked with him long ago but it's totally not relevant to anything!"

Anyway!

Later, Lust is wandering around Ed and Al's home because that fucker hasn't burned yet. And she just... Sees more of it.

True. It's been just the boys for years but there's still things like his clothes in the bedroom closet or something casually put on a shelf too high for Trisha to have reached.

The two rooms that really hit are the bedroom and the study.

Tbe bedroom is mostly untouched. But she sees a shelf of little statues. It's strange to her, but she realizes all the statutes are made from Alchemy. About half of them have very obvious marks, a sign of a talented but inexperienced maker. Seeing two distinct styles, she cam guess Ed and Al made those.

The rest are perfect. Intricate and flawless. If they weren't on the shelf with the others, she would've thought they were made by some master clay artist.

Alchemically made trinkets as gifts for someone they love.

The study is another beast altogether. A whole library on Alchemical texts. Some even older than Lust. All marked up with someone's notes in the margins. The same person's notes, as the handwriting doesn't differ. Clearly all these are important. So why leave them?

The real hard hitter is a journal Hohenheim left. Of course Lust reads it. The fact that the journal is written in Xerxian is just another punch to the gut, but thankfully Lust can read it.

It has a lot of things but the main info she reads is an entry from when Ed was just born and Hohenheim is discussing worries over how his whole "Philosophers Stone in Human Form" deal might be effecting Ed in terms of like. Genetics and stuff.

But the main thing Lust focuses on is that Hohenheim mentions discussing those fears with Trisha. That he told her what he was and his whole history and everything.

It's... Confusing to Lust. Why did Hohenheim just settle down here in this small ass rural town with a normal woman? What was it about her that compelled him to stay in one place so long? To settle down after years and have a kid? Having a second kid? And telling her about... Everything?

She finds no answer because, from all accounts, it seems like Trisha was just a normal, small-town girl. She didn't even have an interest in Alchemy! Just gardening. Why her? Why not someone at least... Great and powerful to match what he was? Even if no one could truly compare to what he was.

Everyone's reactions to Ed and Al sneaking off to do Human Transmutation:

Oh boy. This is a big plot point.

So the boys had quite a plan to trick the adults. Lust has gone on trips out of town for weekends(reporting back to Father), and she's also babysat the boys on a trip to Resembool before. So the boys wait until one of her trips and tell Roy and Riza that she's taking them on a different trip to Resembool. None of the adults know this until Lust comes back without them and has no idea where they were.

They put it together real fast and all three book it to the train station. Several hours of worried pacing of what could've happened.

Roy and Riza are entirely in the dark of what might happen. Lust though... She knows how the Gate works. And what could have happened.

She knows that There's a Price to pay. And while she was planning on encouraging the boys to go through the Gate anyway, she was supposed to be involved with it so she could trade a part of her Philosopher's Stone for their safety. Obviously just so they don't loose a Sacrifice to blood loss or later infection! Not because she cares or anything! But yeah without her, who knows what the Price may be?

They check the boys house first. They see plenty of blood, which is a terrifying sight. But they also see a trail leading out. And that if the boys are still alive, they probably went to the Rockbell place.

Which yeah. Granny's already waiting for them. She wants to yell at them for failing, but it would be hypocritical sinve she didn't notice the first time around.

She tells them the boys are alive but fucked up. Ed lost a couple limbs and Al is... Hard to explain.

Lust is the first to notice the suit of armor in the living room. The way it's arranged like a child, curled up and hiding, barely peeking out from behind the "arms". Light in it's "eyes", like someone's in there watching her.

She remembers the experiments done on the death row inmates. Puttin Souls in suits of armor. She's horrified, but not surprised, when it moves.

That is a whole conversation. Lust has to pretend she doesn't know how that works(while also questioning how the boys managed it). Al tells them what he remembers, which is just everythiny going wrong and then being in the armor and Ed missing some limbs.

We have a long emotional scene when Roy goes to talk to Ed.

Ed is very much not okay at this point and he's trying to be angry but it's just not really there. And he just asks why Roy is still there. He failed to keep them from fucking up why does he still care? Just go back home and leave them so he doesn't have to deal with them anymore.

Well that's just heartbreaking. Roy just talks to him about a lot of things. And the main thing was that this wasn't just "I'm gonna try and stop you but whoops failed that bye bitch" situation. He's not just going to drop the kids because he failed once. He's not even going ti drop them after months of pushing him away and being stubborn about the whole situation. They're a family now damn it.

And Ed kinda feels like that might be worse, because he threw that away ti go fuck up. But Roy tells him it's not "thrown away". They're still going to be here for him. And figure things out.

Later at night, Roy, Riza and Lust all kinda sneaknout individually. Which does lead to some comedy until Granny catches them and calls them idiots. But all of them were thinking of going to the boy's house and looking over their notes.

Roy and Lust are the only ones who can make heads or tails of the notes. Riza can follow some but gets lost and Granny never was an Alchemy person. Roy's looking more for "what went wrong" while Lust is focused more on "what went right". And Lust does find that though they came very close to making a Homunculus, they did do everything pretty right. She accidentally comments on that, which leads to a horrifying theoretical of "what if the boys managed to make a fake Trisha that looked and acted like her but wasn't her?". This also leads to the more disturbing question of "what was it they did manage to make"?

This is a thing that came up in Canon, but here they get answers of the thing that they made wasn't their mom, and you can't bring back the dead. Ed and Al take that news about as well as they did in Canon as well.

The "possible homunculus" thing comes up too with the others wondering if Al really is Al and not just... Something vaguely like him that Ed accidentally created. (Lust knows but can't tell how she knows rip!). Riza to the rescue on this one by asking Al about something Ed shouldn't know about. So that existential crisis is averted!

Of course there's discussion of what to do to help Ed and Al. Which... Does lead to getting back toward Canon of "have Ed become a State Alchemist". It's debated a lot because ya know. Sure it's the best option to help them have the freedom and access to stuff tk find shit but. Ya know. Roy already feels like he failed to protect these kids once already this is not helping.

Anyway! One more fun scene!

Please imagine once Ed gets the automail arm and just does the clap-slap Alchemy. And Roy and Riza are like "yo what the FUCK???"

#human after all #haa au

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