#so maybe some part of cunning survived. despite everything.

[stil-lindigo]

the fox god.

a comic about a trickster.

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creative notes:

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all my other comics

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#cw: emotional abuse #cw: gaslighting #cw: animal death #charity - a god whose name was only ever meant to be ironic #i love playing with the concept of religion like this #im not religious at all but i did go to a christian school for twelve years #and i remember learning about the story of abraham. who long story short gets told by god to kill his son to prove his love for god. #and at the veeeery last minute god goes sike! this was a test to see if you'd do it! here's a lamb to slaughter instead #but the whole concept of that exchange in and of itself is so #anyway #one thing i meant to include in the creative notes but i ran out of room for is that charity never calls cunning by his name. #it's just “fox”. which was a small touch to indicate that he never acknowledged cunning's identity outside of being something exploitable. #but for all charity's hidden disdain for cunning #he still stole all his strengths and coveted them. he became known as the fox god. #so maybe some part of cunning survived. despite everything. #“give me your heart.” #“my god. it had always been yours.” #comic art #hearteaters #stillindigo art #stillindigo comics #one more comic to go until im finished with this collection!!

[lullabyes22-blog]

do you think mel is ever so charmed by jayce or silco that she sometimes forgets that they are still men😭 or maybe she has moments of admiration for either of the two and then they do something that just snaps her back into reality.

Often

:)

With Jayce, it's equal parts endearing and exasperating how he is, well, Jayce. She thinks it's charming when he's all eager to please and earnest in his goals, but it's also frustration incarnate whenever he tries to bulldoze his way through every problem. He has trouble comprehending that the world isn't black and white, that sometimes, shades of gray and degrees of compromise are necessary to reach a common goal. It's a bit akin to the man who never stops to take directions, despite having nothing but an incomplete map and an old compass.

Mel's usually capable of guiding him in those situations, with a little coaxing and cajoling. But she can't help but wonder what it'd be like if he could be more flexible on his own, and not just reactive but proactive about finding sensible alternatives. She's invested in seeing him flourish, as a wise leader, not just as a one-dimensional crusader, and sometimes she dreads that his tenacity might just lead him to his death.

 Beyond that, he's got so many manchild traits, it's a miracle she doesn't strangle him some days. He's like a big puppy, all clumsy enthusiasm and cluelessness, and Mel's often left cleaning up his messes.  In his defense, he does try, and he can be incredibly sweet and thoughtful when he wants to.  Mel still remembers the first time he'd learnt she has a fondness for Shuriman jaggery candy from her girlhood, and he'd looked far and wide through Piltover's bazaars to procure them for her, and had them gift-wrapped in her favorite colors, topped with a delicate gold bow.  Or the time she had mentioned that she'd never celebrated the Solstice Festival because of how busy she was, and Jayce had gone out of his way to clear both their schedules in advance, then taken her by the hand and led her out into the streets to see the lanterns.

He's not the suavest man she's ever met, but there's a sincerity to him that's rare to come by.

Sometimes, though, his good deeds have a tendency to bite him in the ass. Like the time he tried to do her paperwork without telling her, and ended up accidentally stamping her seal onto an application to Noxus' Institute of War.  Or the time he tried to make her Ionian-style tea and ended up burning the leaves, breaking her favorite teapot, and somehow managed to stain the kitchen wall. Or when he attempted to tidy up her workbench full of expensive imported paints, and instead spilled an entire bottle of turpentine, ruining all of the colors.

Moments like these, it's hard to remember the boy is a genius, and the Man of Tomorrow. He's just so Jayce sometimes, and she adores him, but gods above, how did he manage to get this far?

 Oh, right.

Thanks to her.

And then there's Silco.

Ah, Silco.

To call him a man of many virtues would be a grievous error. He is calculating, cunning, and absolutely ruthless. The man is a true force of nature, who's made a career of surviving, even when the odds have been stacked against him. He sees the world for what it is, and does not shy away from what needs to be done. Mel doesn't have to hold his hand, or nudge him in the right direction. His mind is a terrifying machine, and she can't help but be unnerved and fascinated whenever she sees the gears turning behind his good eye.

But in his private life, Silco is also...

Well, let's say, he can be a disaster.

He's older than her by a good decade, and it shows. He's extremely set in his ways, with habits set in stone and opinions formed by decades of rough living that will take at least another lifetime to wear off. He's accustomed to trusting only himself, and a few select people, which can be exasperating. He's also so secretive about everything - his plans, his past, his emotions - that it's a struggle to know what's going on in his head at any given day.

 Like Jayce, he's incredibly pigheaded. Unlike Jayce, he knows it - and doesn't give a damn.

He's a natural contrarian, who needles people as easily as breathing. He also doesn't have a problem owning it, and in his worst moments will say that he's earned the right to be an asshole, and to throw a wrench in the establishment's spokes, just to watch the sparks fly. Mel can count on one hand how many times he's devolved a diplomatic parley into a dispute with one incendiary remark, then sat back and relished the conflagration. Or how many times he's dropped a well-chosen barb at a dinner party, then strolled away while the rest of the table descends into chaos.

In short, he's an infernal bastard.

But, when he's committed, he can be incredibly devoted, loyal, and protective. He's always quick to come to her defense, whether it's against someone who's trying to cross her, or against someone who's merely annoyed her. He doesn't believe in half-measures. He'll either have your back, or cut the ties entirely, with no middle ground.

 And, when he's in a mood, he can be unexpectedly romantic.

He's got a keen memory, which means that he remembers everything Mel says and does. He knows all of her favorite scents, her favorite books, her favorite foods. He's also got a wicked adventurer's streak paired with an unerring sense of timing. Out of the blue, while she's mired in paperwork at the Council office, she'll receive a bouquet of freshly-bloomed night-lilies and a note with directions to a secluded garden overlooking the city, all for an evening's rendezvous. Or he'll show up unannounced at her doorstep, and whisk her away on a masquerade festival in the Fissures, then have her back by morning light, buzzed and blissful, without a single hair out of place.  Or he'll call her out of the blue, when she's alone and in low spirits, and the banter will either turn to naughty flirtation or serious business, as needed, and Mel won't even notice that it's two in the morning, until she turns and sees his silhouette, outlined by the city lights, and realizes that he's been in her apartments the whole time.

 In sum, Silco is a complicated nuisance. But when he's at his best, the rewards are more than worth it.

Both men, in their own ways, drive Mel to be her most capable. Both, by virtue of being who they are, also drive her up the wall.

.-.b

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #asks #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jayce #jayce talis #arcane mel #mel medarda #melco #meljay #jayce x mel #silco x mel

[touchedbydestiny]

"Maybe part of it has to do with guilt. I do feel bad, that I wasn't there to learn all this about you before. I wont lie and say guilt has nothing to do with it... But I wont say it has everything to do with it either. I really do want to know who you are. Maybe you think little details like this are a waste of time, but theyre all things I would have known if I'd been able to be there for you the way I wish I could have been. THey're important to me..."

"Bumblebees? Really..? Thats... actually cute. I don't think in my five hundred years Ive ever heard someone list bumblebees as one of their favourites..." She tilted her head curiously. She looked genuine. She seemed like she was actually taking all of this in.

"Horses are also on my list. I used to spend a lot of time in the stables as a kid. Granted part of that was a cute boys doing, but the other part was I loved the horses. Now, its a fox. I admire their cunning nad willingness to do whatever they have to in order to survive. I think the kids call it 'kin' these days." She gave a small shrug.

"Favourite place you've ever been?"

nadia still wasn't entirely convinced. she just doesn't know if she could trust her or if she was going to throw her under the bus whenever she sees so fit. but she’ll put her suspicions aside - for now.

"bumblebees are impressive little creatures. a newly mated bumble bee queen overwinters by hibernating in a small nest in the ground, just big enough for her. as winter temperatures get colder, the queen produces a chemical in her body that keeps her from freezing, and she remains buried all winter. if spring comes and she defrosts, she can increase her body temperature to over 30 degrees celsius within 6 minutes. a fantastic fact, aside from the obvious fact that bumblebees manage to fly despite their huge size." they make the impossible possible despite being tiny. it's inspiring in some way.

nadia is tempted to ask if one of the cute stable boys had been her father but she decided against it. instead, she just nodded. horses and foxes. interesting albeit fitting. somehow.

"prague." it's where she lives most of the time. "rome is fascinating as well."

"yours?"

#malka lisitsa #❖ interactions | nadia

[randonauticrap]

Ikepri Suitors + Hogwarts House Headcanons

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long awaited by @aquagirl1978 & @violettduchess , tonight seemed like the night to shake things up with some Ikepri suitor Hogwarts Houses sorting! So without further ado, let's see where our 8 Princes (along with Sariel and Rio, of course) would be placed - in my humble opinion -, and why!

♡♡♡

Jin Grandet: Gryffindor

• Jin seems to me like a fine mixture between Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas. He's brave and caring, and will not hesitate to help someone who needs him. However he isn't the best at social cues - no matter what he thinks - and tends to go about things the wrong way, despite having the best of intentions. But Jin has a good heart underneath his slippery exterior, and when it comes down to it, he will easily step up to save someone who needs saving, no matter who they are.

Chevalier Michel: Ravenclaw

• The 2nd Prince is nothing if not a bona-fide genius. He has a photographic memory and is able to read minds through careful discernment (or maybe you really are just that easy, MC). But his intelligence isn't the only reason I would place him in the house of wisdom. The way he thinks is distinctly different from any of the other princes, as well as pretty much...well..everyone else. His uniqueness is both part of his charm and his downfall, but it puts him nicely in the Ravenclaw niche.

Clavis Lelouch: Slytherin

• I'm quite fully convinced that Clavis is actually just the living version of Peeves the poltergeist, but if I had to house him, he would go in good ole Slytherin. He's sly and has a killer sense of self preservation. He plays both sides and is cunning when he needs to be. He has a heart, he was just never properly taught how to use it, so instead of selflessness and honor, Clavis uses it to survive. His street smarts could - and do - get him anywhere he wants to go, and sociability is one of the most highly regarded (but least talked about) traits of Slytherin house.

Leon Dompteur: Gryffindor

• Leon is the classic Harry Potter character, albeit a tad smarter. He's heroic, brave, tends to take the troubles of others onto his own shoulders, and never steps away from a fight of honor. He is wildly protective of his friends and those closest to him, and he cares about people no matter their background or origins. But be careful, Leon; too much bravery can lead to foolishness. Also...his crest is... literally a Lion. So there's that.

Yves Kloss: Hufflepuff

• Yves's haughty nature probably stems from some internal insecurity. It's a façade that's rather easy to see through, and once you do, you see a soft-hearted, shy little boy who wants to do anything he can to keep what he loves held close. His gentle purity and adoration of sweets and baking lends his heart to Hufflepuff in my mind.

Licht Klein: Slytherin

• Hear me out. Licht is fiercely loyal to the people and causes he cares about. He keeps his internal struggles close to his chest and deals with them in external ways, even if those methods aren't always what's best for him. He is essentially the Draco Malfoy in our story, minus the rudeness. Licht is in a constant struggle between what he feels he deserves and what he actually wants, but that doesn't curb his determination to stay resilient in his chosen path.

Nokto Klein: Ravenclaw

• He may portray himself as a man-whore, but you have to admit, Nokto Klein is smart. There's a reason he is King Highness's best informant: he's the one who knows all the goings-on of everyone and everything at the castle at all times. His mask is part of his brilliance (as well as his emotional trauma, but I won't go into that now). It perfectly conceals his true intentions and keeps enemy eyes perfectly distracted by his flippancy.

Luke Randolph: Hufflepuff

• It should come as no shock that I put our precious bear Luke in Hufflepuff. He has all the traits of the common 'Puff. He loves food (especially 🍯), he's a chronic sleeper (same, boo), and he has the most intense loyal streak one could ever find in a human being. He's protective of who he loves and will not hesitate to chop off a dragon's head to save someone in need. But the moment the dragon is dead, he becomes as sweet and syrupy as the treat he loves eating so much - you are what you eat, right Luke?

Sariel Noir: Slytherin

• I think this is probably the most obvious housing. Sariel is smart, quick on his feet, self-serving, and always prepared for any situation. This hot little sadist is a textbook Slytherin, whip and all. He sees solid importance in what he does, and that fuels his tenaciousness. He has a lot of pride in his position and the institution for which he stands, and he has no trouble doubling down on his beliefs, as well as being so incredibly reasonable that he can convince others to take his side of whatever matter at least 98.5% of the time.

Rio Ortiz: Gryffindor

• A few months ago, if you had asked me what house I would place Rio in, Hufflepuff would have been my answer without hesitation. But with the release of his route imminent, there is proving to be more to this little golden retriever than we've been allowed to believe thus far. His devotion to MC is nothing short of miraculous, as he stays true to her even when she's off gallivanting with the 8 princes of the kingdom. Also, the whole factor of him surrendering his life to MC after she saves him is rather Gryffindor-ish of him, don't you think?

~

Tags for the lovelies: @atelier-maroron @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess @ikehoe @rhodolitesroseforclavis @gilbertvonobsidian

#ikemen prince #cybird #cybird ikemen #ikepri #ikepri headcanon #headcanon #harry potter #ikemen beauty and the beast #ikemen series #jin grandet #chevalier michel #clavis lelouch #leon dompteur #yves kloss #licht klein #nokto klein #luke randolph

[yandere-sins]

His Love

Horrortober Day 4: Needle  |  “It’s just a tiny sting. You won’t notice it at all.”

Day 4! Time is passing so fast... but I am glad to do this challenge :3 I think the biggest challenge for me is actually writing for the character’s I predetermined at the beginning. I find myself wanting to switch them around for prompts but no! I will stick to the list and keep challenging myself ^-^

Warnings: Yandere, TW Needle/Syringe, Kidnapping, Gags and being tied up, Sedation Characters: Dazai Osamu x Reader

It was wrong.

With tears streaming down your face, you had to recognize that everything you thought had been right was actually terribly wrong. You only just met him. Perhaps it had been a month now. But really, you only just met this wonderful stranger named Dazai. He didn’t just catch your eye, he also pulled at your heartstrings. It was the kind of love you always had wanted, just… it wasn’t. Not really. 

Not if that love meant being held captive, gagged and tied, staring into the face of a madman.

Something about the way he held the needle in his hand, clear drops of something collecting at its nozzle, seemed utterly wrong. Not just morally. Morally it was very wrong. No one should fear getting injected with something unknown. But the way he held it was strange enough to ring alarm bells. As if he didn’t know how to properly use it.

As if he didn’t know what he was doing.

“Shh,” Dazai shushed you calmly, holding down your right leg as you began to move and struggle again. Panic rose inside of you, festering in every inch of your body. NO! you wanted to scream at him, your bare feet trying to kick Dazai or at least the syringe out of his hand. Whatever his plan was, you didn’t want to have anything to do with it. 

You’ve tried being calm, tried being patient with him. When he invited you over to his apartment, only to spike the tea he served you with drugs, you were scared, yes. But you tried your best to work with him and his crazy wishes. No useless question fell off your lips anymore after Dazai stared at you crazed when you asked him if you could leave. You’ve been so good. So why did you have to go through this?

“It’s just a tiny sting. You won’t notice it at all,” Dazai assured you, or rather, reassured you. But with your mouth gagged, you couldn’t tell him how little you feared the needle and how much you feared what it would transfer in your body. With the last bit of effort you could come up with, you looked at him, fixating his eyes with yours. As miserable as you could, you pleaded with him silently to please not do it.

And for a moment, it seemed to work. Dazai merely stared back. You weren’t sure what he saw, maybe it was his own reflection that made him hesitant, but it caught him, made him lower his arm. “You know,” he mumbled, slowly painting his fingers over your leg. It gave you goosebumps, but at the same time, it helped to lower your anxiety, seeing how he relaxed. “I don’t like doing this to you, either.”

Even you knew those were empty words. Just like all the other words he always told you. Dazai’ loved you’, ‘adored you’ even. What a joke. ‘Couldn’t imagine a life without you’ and ‘wished to always be with you’. And he could have! Some part of you believed that if he hadn’t done these things to you—kidnapping and mistreating you in every way possible—then perhaps, you two could have become the couple he wanted. He could have proved you wrong. Proved that the love you always wanted did exist!

You two could have found a way to live. With each other or apart, but in love. Beautiful, pure love. But not like this. Not with him still gripping the syringe in his hand, eyes lowering to leer at your body presented to him like a gift. A gift he wrapped himself while you were unconscious like so many of your days now. Because you were his present to enjoy, no matter if you liked it or not. 

A sigh of relief left you, despite getting stuck on the gag, and you dared to look away, only to feel his grip tighten around your ankle again. Alarmed, you opened your eyes again, looking at a man full of disappointment and anger. Back was the tension that left you before and gone the feeling of safety you irresponsibly allowed yourself to have after the threat seemed banned. 

“I don’t like doing it, but I hate it even more to see you’ve been hiding this from me.”

From his trouser’s back pocket, Dazai pulled a black, rectangle object, dangling it in front of your face. Shit, you thought, and you were pretty sure the truth was showing in your expression. You knew exactly what it was: your savior. A phone that the man who came to patch you up after a rough fight with your captor two days ago left you. It had been a risk to have, but you hid it in the cover of your pillow. But without the possibility to use it until now, this random act of kindness had been in vain. You’ve been wanting to dial the emergency contacts, but before you could, Dazai had forced you to rest, leaving you restrained until he came back. But you didn’t think he could find it, even if you never used it. 

“Why must there be secrets between us, my love? You know I hate being deceived, but let’s be honest, did you really think I wouldn’t find it?”

Tugging at your ankle, you yelped, losing the strength in your body to keep yourself up and face him. You’ve been good. All this time, you had been understanding and patient. But who could blame you for clinging to a ray of hope? Shaking your head, you tried to plead with him again, but this time, his expression was merely filled with conceited disappointment. As if he was any better than you. That overprotective, obsessed, and mad asshole. 

“So while I go out and find who dared putting these stupid thoughts in your head, I can’t risk you being as awake and clever as you think you are.”

The syringe came back in sight, and you felt almost defeated, knowing there was nothing you could do against a decision he had already made. There was only hoping for the best and trying to prepare for the awakening by his side later, coddled and suffocating in his chest. 

“Dazai,” you said, but what came out was probably nothing more than blabbering against the gag. If he could say empty words, then so could you. If your survival depended on being sweet and kind to the man who was ruining you with his mere presence, then you would be what he wanted from you. 

His eyes opened wide, his name being such a rare word to hear from you, even if you butchered it with your inability to speak properly. Letting go of your ankle, he climbed on top of you, making it easier to look at him again while you laid down and relaxed. “I love you,” you lied, the feelings never reaching your eyes, but they certainly lifted Dazai’s mood. “Me too!” he sighed, smiling softly. “I love you too.”

It really was just a tiny sting, but against his promise, you felt it painfully in the side of your upper body. Letting out a strained groan, you temporarily tensed before you were sedated, eyes slowly closing as you drifted off to another sleepless night for you. In the cold, dark bunker that Dazai called your home, nothing seemed safe, and nothing was right. You could do everything you dared, but you couldn’t do the things you wanted. 

However, something even Dazai had to realize at some point was that you hadn’t given up yet. You’d never. You had a life before this—one you loved. Even if you had to make yourself small and loveable, endure the hardships of a thousand needles and the love of a psycho who you once thought was the man of your dreams, you wouldn’t give up. You wanted to believe that there was more to life than being here, that there was so much more to see and experience than the trauma you were going through. That there still was true love waiting for you. A love that was stronger than all of this. 

But did you really believe you were stronger than that cunning man who calls you the love of his life?

#dazai #dazai osamu #dazai bsd #yandere dazai #yandere!dazai #Bungou Stray Dogs #BDS #yandere bds #yandere!bds #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere!bungou stray dogs #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #horrortoberchallenge2021

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 37

Shout out to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as Ramblingwren

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

(The latest chapter will be up on there once this reaches over 300 notes on tumblr)

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Simularé looked out over the city from the top of the school.  Using her replicated powers, she took the form of Volpina so they'd be able to alter the illusion quickly should something pop out and accidentally reveal the true form of the school. Thankfully the sentimonster didn’t need to do much in order to maintain the illusion; Paris was a surprisingly quiet city.

As far as they could tell, no one in the city outside of the school had any idea what was going on. And that worked out perfectly for them.

“So, this is where Lila has you stationed,” a voice called out, resulting in the faux fox turning around. The figure behind them was a woman clad in dark blue, with blue skin and a feathery fan. She looked confident and the sentimonster instinctively felt that this individual was very much aware of what it was.

Mayura had quickly deduced it was the sentimonster as it was in Lila’s previous akuma form, Volpina. With Lila now Masquerade, it was unlikely she would choose to take such a form. She would likely want to stay in her new form to show it off.

“Do not be alarmed, Simularé, it is your creator. Mayura,” Mayura spoke again.

The shapeshifter leveled a sharp glare at the woman. What made her so certain of that?

“How do I know that is true?” Simularé questioned.

The villainess took a moment to examine the sentimonster. Mayura had to admit that this sentimonster was her finest work to date. The amount of emotion harnessed from Lila to create it made it far more unique, much less of a mindless creature than her previous creations. Amoks were created much like akuma were, locking on to intense emotions before sending off. But unlike akuma, amok can be shaped and tailored with enough focus. Simularé was a special case, as it was made from the conclave of emotions that Lila was experiencing during her breakdown. It had been quite difficult to focus on one specific feeling but Mayura had pushed through. Simularé was sculpted to be Lila’s ideal ally, but it was also so much more than a simple asset. This Amok embodied Lila’s core personality. Her cleverness, her cunning, her mistrust of others, her playfulness, her pride and so much more. To put it simply, this Sentimonster was Lila’s spirit given a new form.

“Trust me Simularé, you would be best not to ask that,” Mayura warned.

The sentimonster felt as if it was being talked down to and clearly did not approve of anyone talking to them in such a tone, save for its master. It charged at the peacock villainess, ready to make contact, But, before it could get close, Mayura stuck out her hand and pinched her fingers together, causing the sentimonster to feel as if some force was pulling its essence out. The pain it felt was indescribable! It felt as if its very being was being ripped out. Mayura was in range to sense the Amok and could easily remove it without difficulty, much like Hawkmoth could with an akuma. Though Mayura had a feeling that letting the Sentimonster know that keeping her out of range of the item was the key to its survival would not be wise. It was best in this moment to display power.

“Stop! Please!” Simularé begged. “I … I believe you! I will do whatever you ask, just please stop the pain!”

The villainess smiled, it seemed there was even more to this Sentimonster than Mayura had anticipated. It had a powerful sense of self preservation, something controlled sentimonsters didn’t seem to have. She took note of that.

“Good. Now, you are going to explain to me your master’s end goal and where Ladybug and Chat Noir are in the building.”

Simularé felt the grip that Mayura had on its essence and held back its burning resentment towards the blue bird villainess. She would behave. For now.

“Okay… I will tell you everything.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Duck!” Ladyice called out as she had Ice Noir lower their bodies to avoid oncoming ice projectiles.

“Surprising that she's only attacking us with ice. She's Stormy weather. You'd think she would be attacking with more, maybe some rain or like a vol....” Ice Noir commented.

“Don't talk about that! Do not give her any ideas!”

The two had skated out of the room and made their way through the now icy hallway while Stormy Weather gave chase.

“I was just saying it seems weird how...mediocre her attacks are.

“It’s like we saw before, the akuma servants are like robots, they can’t react quickly so changing up her powers is likely just as much of a problem. She's probably not as dangerous as we initially thought.”

“So maybe we should face this problem head on now that we aren’t cornered?”

Ice Noir changed direction and began skating towards the umbrella-wielding akuma.

Stormy Weather noticed the approaching cat and raised her umbrella, creating a mighty gale to blow him back and ending him flying past Ladyice to the end of the hallway.

“She can use her other powers… can confirm,” Ice noir commented as he got off the wall, still dazed.

Ladyice skated up to the dazed cat and helped stabilize him. Despite seeming like a wasted effort, the cat’s brash antics actually inspired Ladyice with a way to take her out.

“I just figured out how we can stop her, think you can give her one last charge for me?”

“Why Bugaboo, asking me to rush headfirst into danger? How heartless.” He feigned hurt.

Ladybug rolled her eyes.

“Silly Kitty. Just be ready to hang in there when she blasts you with wind. Don’t get blown back this time.”

“Got it.”

Ice Noir quickly skated across the ice as he drew his weapon. He was ready for her this time.

“Hey breezy weezy! The weather today was supposed to be sunny with a 20% chance of raining Cats and Dogs!” Ice Noir called out, clearly happy with his lame joke.

Stormy Weather saw the cat approaching once again and prepared to send another wind blast at him.

But the cat was prepared this time around and extended his staff to anchor himself to the walls on either side.

“Nice try!” Ice Noir snarked. “But a small little puff of wind won't blow me back again.”

The storm akuma decided instead of creating just another wind blast, she was going to step it up with a cyclone attack! A powerful tornado tunnel would surely blast the cat down for good.

“We were wrong! She can amp up the power too!” Ice Noir exclaimed as he held onto his staff with all his might while his body was being blown back by the massive winds. “This was not well thought out!”

He focused on digging his claws into his staff and doing his best to remain in the wind tunnel. The powerful winds blew into his face and he could see Stormy Weather slowly approaching.

“I don’t think I can hold on much longer, Ladyice!”

He felt his grip slipping. Any second now, he was going to get blown back.

“Don’t worry, Kitty. I got this.”

Stormy Weather didn’t get a chance to react when she felt something tackle her full force and rush her into the wall on the opposite end of the hallway.

The wind died down and Ice Noir was able to land on his skates. He released his grip on his staff and fixed his windblown hair to resemble its original state before quickly skating down the hall to help his partner.

“Nice job, Ladyice.”

The red-clad heroine stood up from her grapple with the storm akuma.

“Actually…”

Ice Noir looked up to see that his partner had shifted power ups. Her skates and ice skater aesthetic were replaced with a suit that had red spacesuit-like plating, a jetpack with retractable wings with red and light blue colors that matches her helmet.

She had changed into her space form, Cosmobug.

“Space power up! Because you can fly through the wind! Genius!”

Cosmobug smiled.

“Well, Stormy Weather is dazed but probably not for long.”

The two heroes noticed her about to grab her umbrella, but Chat Noir’s cat-like reflexes helped him snatch it first.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Ice Noir broke the umbrella over his knee.

“I don’t think she will be as mobile without her powers.”

Stormy Weather tried to stand but slipped on the icy floor she had created.

“Let’s just make our way to the boss,” Cosmobug said. She used the jet on her back to swoop up Ice Noir and fly slowly down the icy hall.

“Just like you to sweep me off my feet. But don’t think I will be a smitten kitten like usual.”

“Oh? Is that so?” The bug heroine raised an eyebrow. “It’s hard to imagine that you haven’t been dreaming about this scenario.”

“It helps that you aren’t riding a horse with the wind blowing in your hair,” Chat Noir joked back, catching Ladybug’s teasing.

Cosmobug quickly moved them to a part of the hall where there was no ice. Both undid their potion transformations, reverting back to their usual hero forms.

“Not keeping the jetpack?” Chat Noir asked. “It is really cool.”

“The room halls are pretty limited, and there's not much mobility, otherwise I might have,” Ladybug confessed.

The two heroes took a moment to catch their breaths and figure out their surroundings.

“We should thank Stormy Weather.”

The cat looked at his partner skeptically, remembering how a few minutes ago, the wind had nearly sent him flying through a brick wall.

“What makes you say that?”

“Lila probably had Stormy Weather out and about to flush out other people in the school and make sure the area was difficult to traverse. She likely sent out a bunch of other akuma to do the same, which means her forces are scattered and we have a better shot of dealing with her with fewer obstacles.”

Chat Noir nodded. He would not have deduced such a thing from one encounter with a weather akuma.

“Good to know, so the plan is to locate her and save the day.”

“No need to figure out where she is, I already have a good idea where she should be.”

Chat Noir noticed Ladybug had already started moving. He quickly followed behind, though he didn’t need an explanation this time. He already knew where Ladybug was heading — to his homeroom class, but he couldn’t say that without revealing what he knew.

_____________________________________________________________

‘This was a ridiculous decision.’

That was the thought running through Chloé’s mind as she ran for her life from a large group of Reflekta clones.

The two or three she had run into early were easy to avoid, but now it seemed like a horde of those tacky clones. And all of the ice that surrounded certain hallways made it impossible to traverse. She was limited in her running space and she was running out. But what made it all worse was that now those Reflekta copies had adjusted to running.

“HOW CAN YOU RUN IN THOSE HEELS!?” Chloé screamed as she ran down the hall.

She just had to try and be a hero. Why was she even doing this? The assistant probably got turned into one of those gross clones or got masked like those other students. She could have just sat back and just waited for Ladybug and Chat noir to find her or let them handle it.

“You can’t run forever” The crowd of clones sang in Rather impressive and creepy harmony.

Chloé took a turn down the hall and went into the door of the nearest room.

She closed the door and locked it before smelling the musty wet air.

“What the… EWW!” She spat in disgust as she realized she had locked herself in a janitor’s closet.

“Why did it have to be in such a gross smelly room?” she moaned.

Unfortunately, her comments caught the attention of the crowd chasing her.

She heard banging on the door.

“You can’t hide, we will find.”

Chloe put her back to the door to keep them out and felt herself slide down it in despair.

Was this how it was going to end? Getting turned into one of those fashion nightmares after hiding out in such a rank smelling closet? She didn’t even save… wait. She did save someone. She saved that old man. It hadn't been glamorous, but she did manage to save at least one person.

“I guess I did do something good after all. May not have been exceptional… but it was something.” Chloé smiled for a brief moment.

She took a moment to look at the positives, Ladybug and Chat Noir would likely come in and save the day, plus there were those other two heroes. Perhaps that would be enough. But she had to admit, finding solace in that was getting harder to do when the smell of the closet was destroying her nostrils. Just then, she remembered she had some nice perfume in her bag that she could spray to alleviate the smell.

“Well, at least I won’t smell awful when they capture me.”

She put her hand in her bag and felt around for her perfume. As she searched, she felt an unfamiliar object in her designer handbag. She pulled it out.

“What is this?”

She noticed a note on top of it. It was a bit dark to read so she pulled out her phone and turned on her flashlight.

“Return to Ladybug after mission?”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Could this be what she thought it was? How was it possible? She didn’t have time to question it.

She opened the box and out came a floating bee creature, who Chloé recognized right away. It was real.

“Pollen!” Chloé exclaimed with cheer.

“It has been a while, my queen.” the bee kwami said.

Chloé would have loved to revel in this moment more but she knew that door was going to burst open any minute. She needed to be the bee heroine.

“As much as I would love to talk more, we need to hurry. We have some akuma clones that need bashing.”

“Right away, my queen!”

Chloe put the bee miraculous in her hair.

“Pollen, Buzz on!”

_____________________________________________________________

“It is a good thing there are so many copies,” Ryuuko stated as she leaped over a few Reflekta copies.

Viperion swerved and dodged the replicas of his sister’s akumatized form while avoiding getting caught in the bubbles that froze them and floated them up in the air.

Deadzone had been doing a lot of friendly fire thanks to its single minded obsession.

“After this, I really hope I never have to see my sister take this form again,” Viperion commented.

“Right, Adrien mentioned that you were Juleka’s brother. Older brother, right?”

“Older twin brother. But yes.”

“Really? You seem older.”

“I am a grade ahead of her, but we are the same age,” he explained.

“Could have sworn you were at least a year or two older.”

“A lot of people think the same thing. Even my mom forgets, sometimes. Rose, my sister’s girlfriend, says I radiate ‘big brother energy’ or something.”

“You learn something new.”

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“Sadly no. I was an only child.”

“Too bad, I think you would have made a great older sister,” Viperion encouraged

“A snake charmer, are we?”

“Well I am the snake, and I am not charming myself, so I think the more correct term would be dragon charmer.”

“Change that to fun killer because you killed my fun right there.”

Before Viperion could retort, they had made their way down to the end of the hall and noticed that it was frozen off.

“Dead end,” they say at the same time.

“No, Deadzone.”

The two turn to see the deadly akuma amalgamation pointing its blaster at them.

The two heroes looked at the deadly akuma.

“Any ideas?” Ryuuko questioned.

“Just one.”

Viperion moved his hand to his bracelet.

“Second chance!” Viperion activated his power.

“Now we have some options.” Viperion explained.

The akuma fired a bubble blast at Ryuuko, and she was frozen.

“Second chance!”

Things reset to how they were a few seconds before. Viperion grabbed Ryuuko and pulled her out of the way of the oncoming bubble blast.

“Thanks. For a minute there, I thought that thing had me.”

“It did, but I used my power to stop that. we still have to get out of here.”

“Look out!”

Ryuuko got hit with another bubble as they got up, protecting him from an attack.

“This might take a few attempts…”

_____________________________________________________________

Hawkmoth paced inside his lair.

Mayura was out there, his son was out there… and things were not going the way he planned. Masquerade seems to be building a base for herself and was more concerned with that than getting the miraculous. Adrien is MIA, and Mayura isn’t responding.

“I might need to step in. But there is a lot of risk in this. Far too many variables that I can't account for”

Hawkmoth never liked leaving his lair. It had too many risks to it. After Heroes' Day, he had nearly been exposed. And after that fiasco in Shanghai he didn’t want to risk getting taken out by his own akuma. He had already taken plenty of risks that had blown up in his face. Would this be another one of those times he would need to risk his miraculous?

“But it could also be just what is needed to beat Ladybug and Chat Noir once and for all.”

With an akuma this powerful, the two would likely have to use their special powers multiple times. If he can just locate them and wait for them to do so, he could potentially gain the advantage. Maybe Mayura was on to something with her actions.

Hawkmoth walked to the window.

“There will be a right time. I just need to wait for it.”

He felt an itch in the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what it was but he could tell one thing, something big was going to go down, and he needed to figure out the right call soon or it could cost him dearly.

_____________________________________________________________

“…And that’s her plan.” Simularé finished. “As for Ladybug and Chat Noir… I am unsure. I lost track of them before I was given a new assignment. But they are in the building and they have not tried to leave.”

Mayura smiled at the information. While it was quite unfortunate that she didn’t have the exact location of the two heroes, it was good to know that they were still in the building, and Lila’s plan was certainly something interesting.

“Indeed, that is quite a clever plan. Ensuring everyone in the school couldn’t escape was pretty smart. You likely had a few escapes anyway, with how clumsy some of the akuma were. You are fortunate that neither one was Ladybug or Chat Noir. Still, though, it isn’t your master’s fault for that. They are basically mindless puppets. But then again, it seems that there might be zero escapes since there seems to be no new reports on the subject of a school takeover.”

Simularé let the peacock villainess muse, analyzing her movements as if trying to figure out any advantage it could handle.

“So, the next step now that all communications are cut is to send out a message that Ladybug and Chat Noir have already been defeated, so as to cause massive despair in order to create even more minions. Sounds a bit derivative, don’t you think?” Mayura mused.

Simularé said nothing. It held its tongue. Deep down, it knew that starting any dispute with this peacock was not wise. Especially given that crazy power she had over their being.

“Still, it is quite a plan. And with all those extra akuma recruited and Ladybug and Chat noir cut off from their guardian, they wouldn’t be able to get any sort of back up. They wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight before all of Paris is under Masquerade’s thumb. I approve of the plan.”

“I am glad you do,” Simularé stated with a forced smile.

Their conversation was cut short when an akuma appeared. Seeing one it did not recognize, the artist akuma prepared to fight. But thankfully the shapeshifting sentimonster stepped in.

“Stand down Evillustrator, this one is not our enemy,” Simularé ordered.

Evillustrator eased and walked over.

“Masquerade has ordered that we start reinforcing the building. She wants this place to be like a fortress,” he parroted.

Mayura looked at the artist.

A fortress? Yes, Simularé mentioned that Masquerade wanted to reinforce the school so that she could ensure Ladybug and ChatNoir would have less chance of escape.

Simularé nodded at the akuma servant.

“Alright, so she wants us to drop the illusion, then?”

“She wants the place to be like a fortress.”

“Go ahead and start,” Simularé motioned. She figured that her master likely didn’t care about the illusion much as she was prepared for stage two. But she would maintain it for a bit.

The akuma moved to the end of the roof and begins working to reinforce the walls

Mayura began moving to the door of the roof to get back down into the school.

“Tell your boss I will be heading to her, and she best be welcoming,” Mayura ordered.

“As you command,” Simularé replied, hiding a large amount of anger and resentment towards the blue bird.

As soon as the blue peacock is out of sight.

Simularé contacts its master.

“Simularé, what is going on? Did Evilustrator reach you?”

“Yes. He is working to make this place a fortress. You want me to maintain the illusion, right?”

“I am about to go public shortly. After I make the announcement. Drop the illusion and make sure this place is a full-on fortress. After that is done, report back to me.

“Yes master. By the way, I had an idea.”

“Oh?”

Simularé smiled sinisterly. She was going to show Peacock why she was sorely mistaken.

“I will report the details to you shortly.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Everything is set up,” Robostus noted.

“Excellent. Let’s do it now.”

The Reflekta camera crew was all set, and Gamer had set it up so the moment they went live, every screen in Paris would show Masquerade.

Masquerade got off her call with Simularé. Something seemed a bit off with her sentimonster but she was intrigued that she had a plan.

“We are live in 5….4…3….2…” the gamer stated before pressing the go live button.

Masquerade smiled.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Paris. You may not know who I am, but don’t worry! You will be very familiar with me very soon. I am Masquerade, and I have decided to make Paris my personal kingdom.”

She paused to let that sink in.

“Now you are likely very alarmed by this declaration and that is normal. It will only be a matter of time before I spread my influence to everyone in Paris.”

She paused to let her words hang in the air before continuing.

“Do not be afraid, I am no monster. I plan on being a fair leader. All I ask is for your undying admiration and absolute loyalty. After that, you are free to live your lives as you normally would. Do not resist and you will have no problems. However, if you do… well, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Masquerade took a calm breath before finishing.

“This last message goes out to the heroes of Paris, Ladybug and Chat Noir. I know you are here, I know you believe you will stop me, and I know you have allies here. But you will fall to me. Your days of superheroing have come to an end, your miraculous will be taken from you, and I will expose you as the failures you are,” Masquerade finished with venom.

She ended the transmission.

“Now make sure that it is being looped,” she ordered.

“Already is,” Gamer confirmed. “And panic is starting to rise.”

Masquerade smiled. Her plan was already working.

It may have seemed like a simple ego boost, but that speech of hers was a crucial part of her plan. Her charm bracelet could hyper focus on anyone that was akumatized in the past and have their biggest insecurities exposed. But that one by one process took far too long, if the hope of the entire populace of Paris was already demoralized. Then all she needed to do was send out her masks and let them take hold. And all she needed to do was go out there and send the masks.

She could already feel massive amounts of negative emotion from outside of the school. As soon as she headed out of the school, she could easily go and get more akuma soldiers. She could feel her bracelet trembling with all the potential additions.

She was prepared to leave, activating one of the charms to give her black angel wings, but something she remembered caused her to stop.

“Simularé I am moving to phase two of my plan. Get down here.”

It only took a few seconds for the sentimonster to jump from the roof and knock on the window.

One for the Reflekta copies opened the large window to let in what appeared to be Dark Cupid, before it shifted into the phantasm form that was its base.

“Right on cue. So, what is this plan you wanted to suggest?” Masquerade inquired. “And be sure it is not a waste of my time.”

“What if I told you I could get you a Miraculous?”

The sentimonster could feel that Masquerade was very pleased with that idea.

_____________________________________________________________

37 attempts.

It took thirty-seven resets before Viperion figured out what they needed to do.

“Ryuuko, follow my directions exactly,” Viperion instructed. “I know how to win.”

He quickly pulled her towards him to make sure she dodged the first bubble.

The akuma was surprised by the avoidance.

Viperion smiled.

“Your next line is, ‘How did you know I was going to blast at her?'” Viperion stated confidently.

“How did you know I was going to blast at her?” Deadzone parroted in shock before realizing they had said exactly what Viperion had said they would say.

The dragon heroine looked at the determined expression of the snake. She could see experience and certainty in his posture. All her years of fencing taught Kagami the art of reading body language, and the hero in front of her was someone that exuded an aura of confidence. She knew she could trust him.

“Alright, Sassy Snake, I will let you take the reins.” Ryuuko responded.

“Jump to the left in 2 seconds and start running.”

Ryuuko followed the instructions and sure enough avoided yet another bubble attack from Deadzone.

“Head to their left and bounce off the locker at the end.”

Ryuuko dashed past the akuma and jumped as Viperion instructed, perfectly avoiding the barrage of blasts sent her way. Viperion had perfectly mirrored her motion as he explained the next steps.

“Now somersault twice and draw your sword.”

Ryuuko somersaulted as Viperion leaped over her and the dragon turned to draw her sword, now on the other side of the hall.

“Now as soon as it fires a bubble at you, activate your wind! No matter what! I believe in you Ryuuko.”

The last words seemed a bit strange to the fencer. What did he mean by that?

“Will you shut up!?” Deadzone shouted before sending a bubble at Viperion.

“For my final glimpse into the future, you will say, ‘Not so tough now are ya?'”

The bubble contacted Viperion.

“Viperion!” Ryuuko cried out.

The bubble enveloped the snake and floated to the ceiling, taking his frozen form along with it.

“No…” Ryuuko muttered. She looked down in sorrow.

I failed to protect him. He ended up protecting me. He had been backing me up to make sure I wouldn’t do anything reckless.

Ryuuko felt her mind flashback to a few days ago which now seemed almost like it happened a year ago. They had made such a good team back then and now… they get a chance to be heroes again and she couldn’t cover him like he did her.

“Ha, not so tough now are ya?” Deadzone stated with confidence.

Ryuuko’s ears perked up at the statement. That was the line Viperion predicted they would say. That means… Viperion knew this would happen! Which meant his previous statement was to show he planned this. She knew what to do.

Deadzone turned its attention to Ryuuko.

“Don’t worry, you will join him shortly.”

Deadzone fired another bubble right at her, but this time Ryuuko wasn’t moving. She was at the perfect distance to do what she needed to do.

Ryuuko smiled.

“Wind dragon!”

The dragon-themed heroine turned into a cloud and blew the bubble right back at the akuma.

“What!”

The bubble encapsulated the akuma, causing it to freeze in place and then float to the ceiling.

Ryuuko returned to her original form and smiled, seeing how they had finally incapacitated the akuma.

“We did it, Viperion. We took them down. I'm sorry it cost you so much… I won't let you down!”

She raised her blade, upon realizing that her partner was indeed trapped in a bubble.

“Wait a minute…”

Ryuuko walked underneath Viperion’s bubble. She wasn’t entirely sure if this would work, since akuma magic was weird and often unpredictable, but it would make a lot of sense if it did.

“It is a bubble, so this should work right?” Ryuuko questioned as she used the tip of her sword to touch the bubble. She pushed it forward a bit causing the bubble to pop.

Her partner dropped to the floor.

“Ugh… my head.”

“You’re okay!”

Ryuuko hugged her friend, but then realized her sudden action and quickly jumped back up. A bit flustered, she could swear Marinette was rubbing off on her.

“I am glad you are alright, friend. You had me concerned — slightly,” Ryuuko corrected herself.

Viperion was surprised by the quick motions but managed to steady himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. But make it quick, we will need to get a move on.”

“Okay… Who am I?”

Ryuuko froze at the question. She could see the confusion on his face. He was completely serious.

“Oh… that is not good at all.”

_____________________________________________________________

Masquerade is on phase two of her plan and Simularé is starting to make waves.

Who will get to the akuma first, Mayura or our heroes.

What will happen to Viperion now that his memory is gone?

Will Queen bee be the right choice?

Reblog and Comment . Your support is invaluable in keeping this fic alive. And I love hearing your thoughts on it

#ml #ml fic #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #ladrien #miraculous fanfiction #drama #ladybug #chat noir #slight ladynoir #fan akuma #masquerade akuma #ml au

[thewitchandtheassassin]

What Would An Angel Say, The Devil Wants to Know Part Four (Lena Luthor x Reader)

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Summary: Why can’t you learn to control your emotions?

Words: 1576

Warnings: Language, angst, talks of violence.

Taglist:  @natasharomanoffswife @natasha-danvers @aaron-despair @username23345 @xjiasx @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @onlyafewfindtheway @captain-josslett @hayleyokami​ @aznblossom​

A/N: So I did a thing. And here we are.

-X-

Planning a demise wasn't terribly time consuming when someone like Lockwood was helping. Dastardly and vile, his ideas were straight to the point as you discussed your options. While you couldn't outright end the human's life with your own hands, he was quick to point out the most effective options that even a great angel like Lena couldn't stop. Cars were too uncertain and, while the elevator had been a good touch, something like that was too preventable.

"You need quick. Abrupt. No possible room for survival," Ben advised, sunglasses obscuring his face despite having no need for them as he eyed the blonde strolling briskly past you, none the wiser of your existences.

"True, but we have to be smart," you added, glancing around in search of Lena's tell: her "heavenly" glimmer.

"Yes, yes, I know. Your little angel is cunning but I think you give her too much credit," Ben replied, his eyes undoubtedly rolling as he sneered at the humans walking along.

Snorting, you jabbed your dagger into his side, ignoring his hiss of pain or the way he swatted at your hand. "No, I'm just not arrogant enough to underestimate her."

Your eyes strayed back to Kara as she slipped back into her office building and then - only then - did you seem the shine of the angel that often haunted your thoughts. The cretins of the earth couldn't see her but you could, her dark locks fluttering in the wind as she gazed back at you pleadingly.

Pieces of you hated her. Truly. Deeply. You would bear marks for the rest of eternity because of her.

But in the same token, you couldn't deny that your memories with her often left your stomach twisted in knots as you reminisced over the smile that made your heart ache. It hurt, remembering how things had once been. Before you were forced to fight with her; fight for your life.

You could see Lena's expression shift the moment it dawned on her who was standing beside you. The way her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, defiantly glaring at the smug demon beside you.

"Uh oh. I think your little angel recognizes me," Ben cackled, fingers curled into a taunting wave.

Snarling your lip, you growled, "She's not my angel, you ass. Now shut up before I cut your fucking tongue out."

Ben clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Testy, testy, (Y/N). Such a killjoy."

Cutting your eyes at him, your grip tightened on your dagger. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

You glanced back over to the building, but Lena was nowhere to be seen.

-X-

Querl studied his ward curiously, occasionally reading whatever Nia was writing though his stare always returned to the woman he was sent to protect. She was so entrancing and for once in his existence, Querl wished to be human again. If only for a day.

So enthralled by Nia, he didn't notice Lena's presence until her voice startled him off the desk he'd been perched on.

"Gods, Lena, you scared me!" he yelped, clutching his chest as he stared at the openly bothered woman.

"Maybe if you had been paying attention to your surroundings and not gawking, you would've noticed me," Lena scolded, though her words held no real bite to them.

"You seem troubled." Querl's brows furrowed together worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Shaking her head, Lena snagged her bottom lip between her teeth before sighing. "No. Complications have arisen and I'm unsure of what's going to happen."

"What complications?"

Peering over at Kara's messy desk, her nostrils flared slightly. "It appears (Y/N) has been given a helper. Lockwood."

Inhaling sharply, Querl's eyes flitted between Nia and Kara. "What should we do?"

"Be watchful. And careful. (Y/N) might have once been a friend but with Lockwood here, we must be vigilant or they'll both be dead before we can stop it."

It was difficult, accepting your new role in her life. Mortal enemies instead of teasing rivals you'd once been. Friends no longer, especially if you were willing to work with him.

A monster in every sense of the word.

"If she's working with him, you need to be careful. This seems way more personal than just an assignment," Querl advised sagely. "I want to believe it isn't but I can't imagine Ben will let this finish without trying to end you. Or having her try to kill you, to prove herself."

Your punishment had been no secret, most of the guardians far too aware of what your friendship with Lena had left you with, the bad blood thick and the scars deep.

"(Y/N) wouldn't..."

"Maybe the old (Y/N) wouldn't but now? Everything is different, Lena. You must accept that. Putting too much faith in her could cost us everything."

Swallowing dryly, the angel nodded. He was right...

She just wished he wasn't.

-X-

"We could always send a helicopter crashing into the building," Ben mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "If that didn't kill the human, surely the building collapsing would."

"That would kill too many others," you argued, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. "We're supposed to be discreet. Dropping a building on a bunch of them definitely wouldn't be discreet."

Lockwood shrugged, completely unbothered by his suggestion. "The human must die. At least we'd know for sure she was dead. Plus Querl's little charge is up there. Two sad, pathetic birds. One mighty stone."

"Not a chance, Woody, pick a new idea."

Ben sneered. He hated that nickname and you knew it, only using it to get under his skin. "Fine."

Smirking at his obvious annoyance, you peered up at the sky absently, noting the darkening clouds. You couldn't remember life as a human (if you'd ever been one to begin with) but you almost wished you could if only to feel the rain on your skin. It seemed like such a peaceful experience, the water trickling over flesh, soaking into clothes instead of rolling off dark wings.

"I'm going to see if I can come up with a better plan," you jeered, heading for the building before he could reply.

Stretching your wings, you kicked off the ground and slowly maneuvered to the floor your mark resided on, eyeing the oblivious blonde through the window. You were well aware you'd be attracting unwanted attention but you couldn't stand being around Ben any longer. If you didn't get a few minutes of space, you were likely to ram your dagger into his throat and send him back to the underworld without his body.

The shift of the air was apparent and you smirked knowingly at Lena's reflection in the glass.

"Stop smirking at me," Lena demanded, arms crossed in frustration.

Snorting, you twisted to face her, brow arching in amusement. "Or what?"

"You're working with Lockwood now?" she questioned, ignoring the challenge hidden in your words. "You hate that spawn of Hell."

You shrugged nonchalantly, peering at the throngs of people below. "He's my ticket to survival."

"He's a slimy coward who wants you dead!"

"Clearly so do you!" you shouted, eyes narrowing into a venomous glare dripping with disdain. "At least he's trying to keep me alive a little longer."

"You're an idiot if you really believe that."

Rolling your eyes, you inched closer to the infuriated woman. "No, I was an idiot thinking you ever cared about me, Lena. At least Lockwood doesn't lie to my face and pretend to be my friend."

"I am your friend!" Lena screamed, the green of her irises dissolving as energy flowed through her. "I don't want you to die!"

As if sensing the tension, the sky went alight with lightning as rain began to flow, startling the humans and hurriedly soaking them to the bone. If only it could wash away the anguish and pain twisting your insides; silence the beasts banging around in your head.

"Bullshit! You pretend to be some pure, precious guardian but you're really just as manipulative and cruel as every other angel. You think that energy of yours makes you above everyone but you're no better than me! And I should've seen that instead of falling in love with some white-winged bitch!" You shoved her, hard, barely containing the want to strangle the guardian who'd ruined you.

Fury washed over you in waves, rendering you heedless of the unwitting admittance that had passed your parted lips, only the sounds of your enraged breathes ringing in your ears. A flurry of emotions crossed Lena's features but you didn't care, simply wanting to either bolt away from the angel or toss her into the sun.

Whichever was easier.

"Y-you're in love with me?" she whispered, the power draining away and leaving behind imploring emeralds that were glassy with something.

The blood drained from your face as you poured through your last words. You had never meant to say that. Because you weren't in love with her. Couldn't be. There was no love in your heart, especially for her.

"I..."

Lena's fingers twitched, the urge to reach out overwhelming as she silently begged you to stay. To help her understand.

"(Y/N)-"

Shaking your head violently, you jerked backward. "No! No, no, no. I don't - I can't - fuck!"

Red lips dipped open but you didn't stay long enough to hear what she had to stay.

Fire erupted...

And then you were gone.

#lena luthor x reader #supergirl imagine #lena luthor imagine #dc comics imagine #arrowverse imagine #lena luthor #dc imagine #supergirl #reader imagine #reader insert

[morgana-ren]

if you'd be so inclined my dear, what are your thoughts on how Tomura's character has developed over the series' timeline? -☼

So, I think Horikoshi did an excellent job at character development- especially considering that he's a villain (not the focal point of the series) and he really didn't have to do that. He easily could have kept Tomura an impudent little man-child, but he didn't, and I truly appreciate that.

So, in season one, we get his debut as USJ, and it became quickly apparent that he was... disorganized. Intelligent and dangerous, clearly, but not quite there yet. He essentially threw money at a pack of sell-sword villains, had a basic plan for how he wanted things to go, and relied on his Nomu to do the majority of his work for him. He didn't even consider variables and other things he couldn't have foreseen- he took Master at his word and just went for it.

He makes a multitude of mistakes during this attack, and it's part of why he fails so hard. Underestimates the kids simply because they're young, not factoring in that these are to be the nations top heroes. Even young, each one is sporting a power that puts them at the top of the class and above the rest of the nation. He basically goes "Fuck it, just scatter them and have these no-name villains kill them. No way that could go wrong." not considering that these children have been learning from the best of the best and are clearly already intelligent of their own accord.

He doesn't take into account that these heroes actually care for these kids and that feeling responsible for them works in their favor as opposed to being a detriment. They fight harder and take more abuse to keep them protected (Aizawa getting absolutely demolished but still persisting to defend the children even as he bleeds to death with a broken body.)

The intel wasn't wrong, per se, but he took it at face value, not even bothering to consider that All Might would push far past his limit to keep these kids safe. For someone as obsessed with felling All Might, he certainly didn't really know a thing about him. His genuine goodness and character would not allow him to fail when their lives were on the line. And then there's the matter of Midoriya, and while Tomura had no way of knowing that he's inherited All Might's power, he should have been able to account for wild cards like that from valiant children dedicated to heroism.

More under the cut because I’m just rambling.

I think this defeat humbles him. For most of his life, things have gone his way because of who is backing him and because he is extremely dangerous with a powerful quirk- this teaches him that raw strength and basic strategy won't be enough.

He watches Stain take the country by storm, and he can't understand it. Doesn't get what the big deal is- he believes he and Stain are mostly cut from the same cloth because of their penchant for violence and murdering heroes, totally blind to the convictions behind Stain's actions. He's incapable of thinking outside of his own view points, and it cripples him. These are his first few steps outside of his own comfort zone and where he begins to grow.

He's forced to consider not what he wants, but why. He resists this every step of the way, but ultimately realizes that paying off little bastard villains to work in his name isn't enough. He needs players under his command that will fight for more than money- and sell swords are loyal to nothing but that. He needs to find a conviction (even as he ends up stealing the mask of one and using it as a facade at first) that others can relate to and be passionate about.

So he does.

He steals Stain's ideology for his own and uses it to recruit some of his top members- even if he is a right little bastard about it at first. While he throws a tizzy fit because they aren't "perfect" (his standards are very high despite the fact that he's arguably not a very effective leader) but eventually ends up utilizing them regardless.

It's around here that he starts sharpening his instincts and learns what it is to be a true leader. He learns he cannot casually throw around his pawns because ultimately, he cannot win this war by himself. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' and while he isn't as enchanted with Stain's entire gimmick as his comrades are, he still wields it effectively.

He's still learning, however, as we learn when he takes Bakugo. Had he gone to the effort to get to know a single thing about him, he would have learned very quickly that trying to recruit him would come up completely pointless. He just saw untamed anger and unrestrained violence bordering on unhinged and thought "Ah yes, he's powerful and very much like me- he'll do nicely" and put together a whole plan to kidnap him. I think the vanguard's success in capturing him shows Tomura just how useful it is to have clever little birds under your command, and that sticks with him.

Losing his Master, like AFO says, forces him to become his own man. He loses the cushy abode he'd had for most of his life, loses many of the benefits afforded to him by being AFO's protege. He and his ragtag team of villains live in squalor, almost entirely destitute, and are forced to survive- but they stay loyal, and that means something to him. I think it’s around here where he actually begins to care about them. 

We see how he reacts to Magne’s death. I don’t think for one second he aided in destroying Overhaul simply because he was a threat. If that was the case, he would have stopped once he was arrested. He risks everything to get vengeance. Cuts his limbs off and renders him completely helpless as payment for what he did to Compress and to avenge Magne’s wrongful death. 

Over the course of everything, he’s become more patient, more cunning, more dangerous. He’s learning quickly from his mistakes, how to command his ranks in a respectful, effective way, and how to keep them safe. He learns their strengths and weaknesses, and while he’s still a bit thorny, it’s very apparent he does care for them. He’s on his own now, and knows he needs greater power, greater numbers to achieve his goals. He is ruthlessly ambitious, willing to endure ungodly amounts of pain to meet his ends. 

So now we have this season (which I haven’t actually watched, as I’m just waiting for disappointment because I fucking know Bones won’t do him justice) and he’s seeking out both Gigantomachia, a former ally, and the PLF. Both things that could be of great value to him. His leadership skills and ability to command will be put to the test, but so will his endurance, his willpower, and everything else. This is the beginning of him as a truly devastating threat. 

He’s growing into the villain I think he deserves to be. He’s facing down the very bones that comprise him and learning why he is the way he is. What his convictions really are and how far he’s willing to go to achieve his goals. HIs past, his life as he knows it, what needs to be done to put a pretty little ribbon on everything. He is, in a way, shedding like a snake- ridding himself of weaknesses, growing into his strengths, and evolving into a more capable predator. 

If you ask me, realistically, I think Shigaraki would actually win. When it’s all said and done, I think his arc is far more compelling than any of the heroes or their children. I think he has more drive, more wit, more raw power and more reasons to keep fighting. A lot of the kids, while cute and the main characters, are quite hollow. But over the course of all these seasons, we get to watch Tomura’s metamorphosis and his evolution into a purer, undiluted evil. He transforms into something truly sinister- a literal manifestation of all of the flaws and pitfalls of society and hero culture as it exists. He is undeniable proof of the toxicity and that the way things are cannot be allowed to stand, and the fact that so many people resonate with him and follow him loyally should be the ultimate clue-in. 

I think if the heroes weren’t blinded, they would look at Shigaraki and his league and consider it. Wonder if, just for a moment, there was something there that they should pay attention to. A cry that they should hear rather than be willing deaf to. But they don’t. 

Gran Torino is a prime example of this. So are all the other so called ‘heroes’. Calling him evil. Underestimating him. Considering him someone who just woke up one day and decided ‘I don’t like this so I’m going to kill a lot of people’. You’d think that they’d recognize that a drive like his does not come from nothing. If they sat down, shut the fuck up and listened for ten seconds, maybe they wouldn’t be dying by the dozens. 

I’m not saying that they should allow him to continue to trample the world and kill at will. But what I am saying is that part of how they’re fighting him and how they’re viewing this in terms of black and white and good versus evil is exactly the fucking problem, and it’s that kind of bullshit that birthed the villain we know as Tomura Shigaraki to begin with. 

#Shigaraki #Tomura Shigaraki #just my thoughts on it #Thank you for the question anon! #Morgana and friends

[gothamsworst]

Ficlet Clip- Understanding (Co Authored bt JohnTS)

“You’d think more people would assume the existence of such things, you know. With things like the Justice League cavorting about the world, magic as simple as science.. So many people are so quick to assume such things are .. impossible, despite all evidence to the contrary.”

Her gaze locked with his eyes, the piercing red almost shimmering among the smoke and shadows. There was hunger, but not a carnal one. No, it was a craving for understanding. For someone who comprehended the necessity violence could be in times of peril. Her kind, immortals- they rarely found understanding in the living.

“Gotham was the only sensible place for me to hide. What better place for a monster to flee, than to the dark?”

The Penguin felt he had to stand up to make his point. It was a rare opportunity, so why not make the most of it? As he stood up, he slowly paced towards the massive window behind him.

“Well, just a few months ago, there was no Justice League, because there was no threat of invaders from the stars. You see, everything old shifts to adapt to the new, or fades into extinction. We began using gimmicks like the Batman did to fight him on equal terms. Then came the metahumans, then the rest. Natural escalation. No matter what anyone says, finding someone like you was only a matter of time.”

He’s now reached the glass, touching it with the entirety of his right palm. I Something she said is giving Oswald pause to turn around, to face her. He’s still looking out the window, but not focusing on anything.

“Monsters don’t hide in the dark alone, my dear. I have committed crimes -some of which are heinous- and I hide in the light, down there. Among my peers I want to be better than someday. Not wasting a fortune, but investing it, to help this city so they remember me. Someday…”

The Penguin was now ready to turn around and face Roxanne, still standing by the glass pane. There’s sorrow and regret in his voice, as if he wishes he knew what he’s about to say sooner.

“I don’t think anyone who is a monster ponders what a horrible monster they are, Roxxy. Whatever you are, so long as you are aware of it, you can pull back from the brink of chaos. When the time comes, you can face your family, and survive. No one I know of that questions their nature is a slave to it.”

“I have no shame in what I am, love..” She smiled a bit, rising to meet him. “Only in how I became such a thing. I may not be a human, but I still live, in my own way. I breathe, I think, I hunger, I strain. I am in every sense, still a part of this world, even if the things that made me human are far behind me.”

When she reached the glass, her clawed fingers tapped on its surface with a light tink. “But there is shame in the things I must do to stay alive. There  is shame in how I became what I am, and what I do to maintain it. Immortality comes at a terrible cost. ”

She looked to him with a mixture of somber sadness, and a light of mischief. “You learn to make your own joy. Your own hope. ”

The way the light caught her face was.. phantasmal. The haunting pale features, the dark curls that fell around her features, and those eyes.. shimmering blood opal portals that flickered with blue and gold. She locked her gaze with his, and the sadness melted into a contented smile.

“It’s nice to finally talk to someone who understands that there can be good in the hard parts.” Oswald kept his hand on the glass, as if there was some kind of connection, a bond he would hate to sever. It was comforting to finally know someone who understood. It has been so long, some would say an eternity, since the last time that happened. The Penguin is mesmerized in her presence, her appearance so haunting that he almost feels timid to speak further. Thing is, he’s fought enough ghosts his entire life, so he finds the strength to respond.

“My dearest Roxxy, you are without a doubt the only one who understands better than I how true that is. I wish-”

A voice is heard as someone rushes through the doorway. An uninvited visitor at the worst possible time. A middle-aged man with broad shoulders and a gruff stubble enters the room in a panic. Looks like he’s been through hell. At least he closes the door behind him, even leans against it for support.

“Boss, you gotta do somethin’! The Bat, he took down our shipment, the cops are all over it now. We had to run! Good news is, we used the smaller gangs like you taught us. No one can trace it back to us, but-”

“Not now, Laurence. Get out of my office, now.”

“But, boss, those guns were worth at least ten mil-”

“Out, NOW!”

He can no longer keep touching the cold window, alongside her. Almost out of instinct, the Penguin grabs his closest umbrella without even looking and flicks the handle once, allowing the 5 inch serrated blade to pop out. One more flick and the blade flies through the air at the speed of a professional’s arrow, embedding itself no more than one inch away from Laurence’s face, into the finely sculpted wooden door. Another blade pops into place to be ejected, but Laurence knows when to run. He almost vanishes when he leaves the room faster than he entered it. “Before you say anything, yes, that was an arms deal. I have no shame in what I am either, only in what I have to do to be worth a damn, to be remembered a few generations from now as more than the short man with a trick umbrella.“

He can finally put the umbrella down, he thinks, as his fingers have stopped gripping it like it’s his own soul. Oswald is back to the window pane, touching the glass again. Maybe it’s the lighting, but his eyes seem almost glassy.

"I know what you are, and I can see every side of what you are. If you feel the same way, maybe we can… Maybe we can make the load lighter somehow, for both of us. Can we..?” She reached over, taking his hand in hers. The skin was warm, save for the palm that had been pressed to the icy glass. Her grasp was gentle, and firm. There was tenderness to it. A vulnerability.

“If you would have me.. I’d be delighted, Oswald. I really would.”

‘If you would have me’. The phrase had many meanings- but there was one as ld as time, that even one like Oswald would know. It was a phrase often used to offer companionship of a more mature variety.

A courtship.

Roxxy knew the risks of opening her heart to a human, even one like the Penguin. But those eyes, deep and shimmering and real.. She saw into them and knew this was something she couldn’t turn away from. He was kindred. And if anyone could handle her heart, it might well be him.

The “one moment at a time” mantra he was tied to for so long just fell apart. Now what? What does the next moment hold? No earthly idea, as far as the Penguin could think.

“I… I would love to have you…, here, if you want a position in the Lounge. You are talented, I’m sure of that. And, provided you want to, you can extend that partnership to the other, more well paying side of the business…and also extend it to…”

Almost stammering through his words, his mind tries to reach what his heart already knows. Oswald never was that connected to someone, another soul trying to shoulder through hell, not knowing what will become of them out the other side. At least, that’s how he understood it. Might as well take a leap of faith, it’s not like a better time might come later. This is Gotham, Poison Ivy might take over Aparo park in the next 5 minutes and drive the city into panic mode.

“…to us.”

Leaps of faith never worked for the Penguin, only cunning and ruthlessness. For Oswald though, they worked out just fine, so far.

She relaxed into a gentle posture, holding his hand just a little bit tighter. There was no going back now. And so, leaning down just enough to meet his eyes, the draculina placed a small, tender kiss on his cheek. The mark it left was a deep rosy red, and she saw no shame in making it. No, she liked him. More than she had liked anyone in a long time.

“I can start this weekend. My show at the Nest is tomorrow, if you care to see what my performances are like before such partnerships begin. Or, if you’d just like to share a cocktail or two.”

Oh, now the flirting was much more obvious. Her hand cupped his chin, hesitating nervously for a moment. Should she? There was no doubt Roxanne wanted to kiss him. She’d been resisting the urge all night. But she had no idea what would come of such a decision. Not that she was opposed to being intimate with the man.

Far from it. In fact, the idea excited her.

But not yet. No, instead, another kiss in the cheek- this one a little higher up. Modesty was not her specialty- she was sin incarnate under all the pleasantry and glamour. Her body was built for violence and lechery. But her heart was still human, and told her to wait.

That could come soon enough.

“I hope I’m not being too forward.” Oswald’s heart stopped beating in his ears for a few seconds after the second kiss. At least, he knew he was on the right path. He shifted his body slightly, pefectly centered to face Roxanne fully. His monocle was no longer useful up close, so he set it aside on the table, along with the still bladed umbrella.

“It would make me happy beyond words to see you perform, my dear. I would love nothing more. Truly. And, as for your other question…”

He barely felt how cold her hand was. Oswald was far too focused on her image before him, and how she made him feel. Awe, a bit of fear, a lot of affection, a touch of amazement at the creature before him. So many more words he couldn’t find in the moment. He can’t resist placing his other hand on the side of her face, gently pressing against it to feel the marble-like skin that’s endured centuries.

“…You are incredible, Roxanne, and for that you can be as forward as you want.”

Oswald leaned ever so closer, only to stop when his face is a couple of inches away from hers. That old school upbringing kicks in again. Now he’s not sure if he’s too forward.

“I…”

A whirlpool of emotions stir inside. Words don’t seem to work for him at the moment.

She couldn’t hold back any longer. There was no way. Not when they were this close, not with the way he looked at her. Roxanne gave in to the hunger, pressing her lips to his in feverish delight, her body trembling as the sensation of Oswald’s kiss washed over her.

He tasted like wine and cigarette smoke, and his cologne.. god, it was so overwhelming. Her arms slinked around his shoulders and the draculina purred, parting from it only to sink back in after quietly catching her breath. What was this? Had she ever been so eager before? Roxxy couldn’t remember.

Parting from the kiss one last time, Roxxy looked on Oswald with a great fondness. His hat was askew and hair a bit ruffled from the moment, but he looked so.. charming.

Oh yes. She had caught the bug hard.

“Pardon my enthusiasm,” she said barely above a whisper.

“My dear, I quite like your enthusiasm.”

Oswald took off his hat slowly to place it on the table. Still locking eyes with Roxanne, he adjusted his hair, without too much success. He leaned forward, as if he was about to whisper a secret, but instead planted one, two, three kisses onto her lips, his heart beating so fast he almost couldn’t even hear it.

The first two were subtle and soft, the third lasting longer, more intense than the previous. His right hand moved behind her face, to caressing her hair gently. After he pulled back, that right hand was back to the Penguin’s side, putting his hat and monocle back on. He was now looking into the amber pearls of her eyes, again.

“Pardon my persistence”, he said slightly out of breath.

She was red in the face, but her gaze was utterly blissful- half lidded eyes paired with a meek expression. “I like your persistence,” she replied, purring into his ear affectionately.

Roxanne hadn’t felt this level of comfort in a long time. Nor had she had affections this intense. Oswald was bold, charismatic, and not without a temper- something she couldn’t help but be drawn to.  The vampire found herself craving him, the way one craved sleep, or air.

“Oswald, I.. It has been a long time, since I’ve done something like this. I need to know that if we’re to take this seriously, that.. That you’re sure. That there is no hesitations.”

“My dear, everything I’ve done has been without doubts. Everything I do is for a reason and…I’ve never felt this way before, for anyone. I’m sure of this, Roxxy. Like every other action I’ve taken in my comparatively short life.”

Oswald reached out with both hands, cupping them over one of Roxanne’s. Slim fingers, cold to the touch. Strong as steel under the soft surface.

“Roxxy, I promise you. No hesitations.”

The Penguin looked around  aimlessly for a couple of seconds, as if he’s entered his office for the first time. He then turned back to face Roxanne with a smile., almost stifling a chuckle.

“Do you want to know something funny? I always explain to every guest in this room the origin of all the items in my collection before they even sit down. I forgot all about that in the… moment. We’ll have time for that kind of tour later, I’m sure. If you want to, that is.”

“I’d like that.”

Bro...bro...!!!

#dc #gotham rogues #btas #oswald cobblepot #penguin #fanfic #ficlet #fem oc #dc ocs #sfw #suggestive #long post #bro this is so good #i love hte idea of oz just being able to launch knives out of his fucking umbrella #it's like a gun that shoots knives!! but it's an umbrella!!! three in one!!!!

[forever-rogue]

Golden

A/N: Totally not requested nor necessary, but yeah... It’s angst hours and I’ve been missing my favorite DEA grump. So here we are, it’s nothing much, more like a quick character study. Enjoy!

Pairing: Javier Pena x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: None

Javier Masterlist

Main Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The air in the small tavern was thick and heavy, perfumed with cheap alcohol and tobacco, it felt suffocating. Despite the fact that cool autumn days had finally arrived and all the windows were wide open, it felt warm, too warm, and it was driving you insane. 

Maybe it was the fact that you were getting a headache; between the lack of sleep and water, surviving only on coffee and the half empty cheap beer in front of you, you were surprised you were still alive. Even if it was just barely.

Or maybe it was the glaring fact that Javier wasn’t there. He was late, very late, which was very unlike him. You shouldn’t be worried; he was a man grown and able to handle his business. But he was a man of intrigue and polar opposites when it came down to his core essence. 

He could be punctual, but then he could be late and straying in like it was no matter. He was gruff and harsh, a man not to be trifled with, but you had never known a more gentle lover. At night he could be cold and distant, but in your arms he was close and all consuming. He knew right from wrong, often more aware of the difference than most, but he walked a thin line that became increasingly blurred at times. He was all business, but remained kind and gentle, those brown eyes holding a million different emotions at once. 

He was golden.

And still late. Ten, then twenty, then thirty minutes, and even an hour late. When it came to you it was almost unheard of you. He would never make you wait. 

As you swirled the foamy, almost neon yellow liquid around in the bottle, you let a long, heavy sigh. Tapping your fingers on the dirty, sticky tabletop, you quickly came to the conclusion that Javi wasn’t coming. For one reason or another. 

And you hoped it was a good one. 

After leaving the office for the evening, you’d briefly parted ways, telling him you wanted to go home and freshen up before your very lowkey date night. Now that you were thinking back on it...there was something about him that had been different - off - today. 

Not just today but...lately.

Fuck.

How had you not noticed earlier? Between this and that and every little problem that popped up and trying to wrangle in Feistl and Van Ness, your mind had been going a million miles a minute. And apparently none of those minutes had included enough Javier.

You should have known; you should have paid more attention. He was not just your friend, your partner, but your lover. The one that was your home, the one that you had seen every part and parcel of your soul, the one that was there for you no matter what. 

And you hadn’t been there for him. 

Shoving the beer bottle out of the way, you almost ran out of the disparate bar, and into the cool of the evening. The world already felt better outside of the dingy place and while your chest was still constricted and tight, you already felt better. Luckily for you, the place was close to the apartment building you and Javier lived in, and, thanking your lucky stars, you’d bypassed heels and opted for trainers. 

By the time you reached the building and had run up the flights of stairs to his, your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest and your legs were on fire. You hadn’t let yourself stop, the singular thought on your mind was Javi, Javi, Javi. 

Outside his door, you stopped for a moment, attempting in vain to see if you could hear anything on the other. But there was nothing; only deafening silence. Stopping yourself from knocking, you fished his spare key out from your purse, sliding it into the lock and quietly opening the door. 

The apartment was quiet and dark, save for the faint bits of dismal yellow light you saw filtering out from his bedroom. A small sound of relief escaped your lips as you realized if nothing else, he was home safe. 

Locking the door behind you, you shrugged off your jacket and tossed it onto the couch before inhaling sharply and squaring your shoulders. Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? This was Javier after all; not a complete stranger. 

“Javier?” your voice was soft, almost sound unlike you as you started walking towards the end of the hall. It barely looked like he had been home, things were untouched, left in the same state as when you had left in the morning, making sure to arrive separately to work, just in order to avoid more suspicion than necessary. Everybody knew, you knew they knew, but till...why push the envelope when you didn’t need to and all eyes were on you, scrutinizing your every move anyway. 

Nothing but tense silence met your ears, causing you to swallow thickly as you trailed your fingers along the wall. They were empty besides a few photos of you and Javier over the past few years. It was like a dirty little secret, one known to only you and Javier, away from the harsh and cruel realities of the world. The one on the end was your favorite; it was one of the few candids you had managed to get of Javier, a smile on his face and his eyes all crinkled up in the way that made your heart melt, his dark locks blowing in the wind. You wished that side of him came out more often; you’d make it a to try your best to bring out that megawatt smile as much as you could. 

“Javi?” you called softly as you gingerly pushed open the bedroom door the rest of the way. It sounded like you felt; creaking and aching, crying out for something. As you entered the familiar space, it almost shocked you with how familiar everything seemed; eight now it felt like you were in another world, “love?”

For some reason, due to the quiet intensity of this evening, you almost didn’t expect to find him in the room at all. But he was there. 

He was there and for once he wasn’t occupying every part of the room; he was small, diminutive. He was almost hunched in on himself, sitting on the edge of the bed with a glass of whiskey cradled almost delicately in his hands that he barely touched. An empty pack of cigarettes sat next to him, suggesting he had been there for some time. But the worst part of it all? He didn’t even move, not even slightly, to turn and look at you.

“Javier,” you rushed over to him, quickly dropping to your knees in front of him as your hands instinctively reached for his face. But unlike almost every single other time, he didn’t let you touch him, he flinched away, as if your touch was venom. Your breath caught in your throat as you held up your hands in the air, almost as if admitting silent, heartbreaking defeat, “J-Javi?”

“Don’t.”

It was a single, earth shattering word. 

Your mouth dropped open, lips trembling as you tried to process what was going on. 

“Javier-”

“Stop,” he insisted as he brought the glass to his lips and quickly downed it before absentmindedly tossed on the bed, not caring what happened to it, “please.”

“What...what’s going on?”

“I can’t...I can’t do this,” it was a simple state, said without feeling and clinging to every part of you like thick, sickly sweet pollen. Javier kept his gaze trained at the wall, pointedly avoiding making every contact with you. 

But he didn’t have to expand. Even without expanding further, you both knew precisely what he was referring to. Your eyes, already tired from the long days burned and stung with warm, salty tears as you tried to figure out what, if anything, to do. 

Your mind, normally wicked sharp and cunning, failed. It faltered just like your heart felt like it was starting to do. 

Instead, you remained still, perched on your knees as you silently cried and he breathed heavily, in and out, in and out, steady, strong, deadly.

But after some time he couldn’t take it any longer, he couldn’t bear to hear you quietly sniffle and cry any more, he stood up and walked to the door. 

“I think you should go,” his voice was emotionless, steeled and rough as though he had rehearsed this in his mind many times over. His hand was on the knob as you rose to your feet and stormed over to him. You wanted to fight, you wanted to scream, to demand answers, to demand something. But there was just...nothing. 

Instead you stared at him, trying to decipher his expression. His face was tired...worn out. Almost like he just couldn’t…

“Why?” your voice broke and cracked on the single syllable as you hastily wiped away at the tears, “tell me why.”

“Please just go,” he seemed to struggle with each word but he kept his gaze away from you. You hoped this was hard for him, you hoped it would twist and twist and burn like a knife being plunged into his heart. Just like you felt right now. Gods, you still wanted him to fight you, and part of you wished you could fight back. 

But for some reason...you didn’t have resolve. Almost like you knew this had been coming; almost like you knew this would happen eventually. But you didn’t; you just wept like a broken hearted fool as you willed him to at least look at your one more time. 

“Why?” you repeated as he jerked the door open further, “tell me.”

“There’s a plane ticket with your name on it on your kitchen table,” his voice was gravely and thick; not the normal rich tone when you made love, but different; distinct - harsh, “you’re going back tomorrow.” 

“What!?” the words crashed around your ears like a horrible cacophony of sounds as you gaped at him. Surely this was a cruel wicked joke, one that you made him beg you to forgive. But when he didn’t laugh, he didn’t even offer up the slightest bit of emotion, nothing, you knew it wasn’t a joke. No, it was your whole world shattering around, bit by broken bit. 

And you didn’t even have a single say in it. 

He had made sure of that.

There was no point in arguing; at the end of the day he was your boss, and if you bothered sidestepping him, it would just end in the same result. This was done; over and decided without you getting a single word in. It was calculated from the beginning; this was why he had disappeared over the last several weeks. 

You should have known. 

You should have fucking known.

“Go,” but he didn’t have to say anything further as you stormed past him. But as you did so, you made it a point to tear down every single picture on his walls, letting them clatter to the ground as the glass shattered. 

Just like your heart. 

Just like your dreams.

Just like your love.

When you reached the door, you paused, your hand on the knob. 

You turned back to him, wishing and wanting him to finally meet your eyes and say I’m sorry or...something.

But he didn’t. He wasn’t in your line of sight anymore. He was just gone - gone.

“I hate you, Javier,” you wished you could have meant the words, that they could have held some weight. But instead it was weak and pathetic. A lie to the bitter end.

You slammed the door as loudly as possible on the way, uncaring about who heard or what scene it caused. 

Nothing mattered; it was all over anyway. 

A life without Javier was no life at all.

As Javier listened to you storm to the door side of the building before slamming your own door, he let out a long shaky breath. Reaching for the whiskey bottle, he didn’t even bother with the glass, instead opening it up and downing half of it one go. 

When he was done, he threw it against the wall, let it smash and shatter just like the pictures that were nothing but distant memories. 

This was supposed to be easy, supposed to be the right thing to do.

For you. 

To protect you. To show you just how damn much he loved you.

Instead it had resulted in this.

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Never. 

And now….what was the point? There was no point. Without you, there was no point to anything.

You were just too much. Too bright for him to bring down and drag to his level, too good and pure for him to mark up and scar. You’d been through much, and he’d shielded you from more. But it just...it was too much. 

This was what he had to do. Right? Right? Right. 

Maybe one day he would understand that.

Maybe one day you would too. He didn’t care if you never forgave him; but if you were safe and breathing that was everything to him.

You were just too golden for him. For this world - his world. 

Too golden.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier pena #javer pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[tribow]

So I watched Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress

First of all I just want to say that anyone who calls this show an Attack on Titan clone is dumb as bricks and either didn't watch it or were unable to admit they were wrong because of their own sense of pride. Are there similarities and/or inspirations? Sure, but Kabaneri's story and conflict are extremely different from Attack on Titan.

With that out the way, Kabaneri is an anime original written by Ichiro Okouchi and directed by Tetsuro Araki. Okouchi is the name that caught my attention as he has done screenplay for a lot of stuff I like and has also done the writing for SK8 the Infinity which I heard a lot of people were enjoying.

I kept my expectations low since I heard a lot of people were dissapointed by Kabaneri, but now having watched it I don't understand why. This isn't a masterpiece or anything, but it's pretty enjoyable and doesn't waste any time. In fact, it could have used more time if anything.

The only issue I would say this anime runs into is time constraints. It clearly had much more story to tell, but with only 12 episodes it can only do so much. The story keeps a heavy focus on what is currently happening and does not spend much time fleshing out the details or doing much world building. There are some characters who end up experiencing developments off-screen as well. With a longer run-time this anime would be golden, but it is what it is.

Anyway, the general plot is that there is a zombie outbreak that has happened during what seems to be industrial revolution times for Japan. These zombies are called Kabane. They lack much intelligence, but they're superhuman and difficult to take down. The story starts probably several years into this apocalypse. A city* (might've been a town) has gotten infiltrated by the Kabane and the survivors barely manage to escape by train. The rest of the story follow these survivors and I found that pretty cool. You don't see many stories have a train as its main setting.

I left out a lot of details, but I believe the impact of the characters would not hit as hard if you knew what their deal was before watching. For the most part, these characters are pretty good. Their motivations make sense and the decisions they make do not betray who they are. Some characters make stupid decisions, but those decisions are believable and that's very important.

Outside the conflict of survival, there's other conflicts the characters must deal with as well. Knowledge about how the Kabane work is very minimal. Many believe them to be more cunning than they actually are and treat them like some kind of youkai hiding in society. That fear can frequently make the situation worse by exaggerating what the Kabane are actually capable of. It's a common theme explored in the show. Speaking of society, the way the government responds to this apocalyptic situation is also a conflict in its own way. Will the government abandon the people to protect itself or will it use its influence to stand and fight? Both options are explored in different ways and I found that nice.

However, as mentioned before many of these conflicts are not given the chance to be fully explored so you may end up not getting enough information to be satisfied with the answer you got, or maybe you get no answer at all. It's really a shame. Perhaps the manga adaption expands on this more, but I haven't read it so I wouldn't be able to tell you.

I have watched the movie, "The Battle of Unato" though. Without explaining much, it sucked. The conflicts were super forced and it did not come up with good excuses for the dumb shit that happened. The ending was nice but overall it sucked. It doesn't even expand on the world building. Netflix also released it as a 3-episode anime instead of a full length movie. Way to ruin its pacing. It's a full-length film not an episodic series, what the hell were they thinking?

My hatred of Netflix's practices aside, the animation of Kabaneri is amazing, and I'm not just talking about the movie. The television series is just as good. It was handled by Wit Studio (yes, the same people who did Attack on Titan). If you know anything about them then you know they're good. Everything about the animation is great. Character expression is exceptional and the aesthetic is simply perfect throughout the show. There's some great visual storytelling done as well sometimes. Action scenes are stellar cause of course they are. Wit Studio is great.

The music is really good as well. The ending theme is amazing and one of the best I've ever heard. They knew it was good too, there's some orchestral arrangements of it used during the show, or sometimes they'll just straight up play the song. It happens almost too much, but I don't blame them, that songs slaps like no other.

I would recommend this anime for sure to anyone that's interested. (maybe not the movie though). The time constraint issue does harm this show a lot and I have some minor gripes, but it's still really good despite that. I don't like the idea that Kabaneri will be remembered as some Attack on Titan clone, it deserves more respect than that. Plus, it's an anime original! Stuff like that should be supported.

#text #anime #review #kabaneri of the iron fortress #koutetsujou no kabaneri #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #This should be remembered as a good show that needed more time to flesh itself out

[pyrefell]

Helllo!!! I’m loving your headcanons so far!!!

Do you have any general personalities descriptions for your boys yet?

a of all, bsdaifjkbfjkowp thank you!!! b of all, im sorry this took so long?? i rewrote it like 3 times & it still might change bc im indecisive. also it turned into a lil bit of a headcanon post. i hope its understandable?

once again i am struck with the fact that the boys need nicknames. hmm.

UNDERTALE:

Sans: Guy who is deliberately and unabashedly Cringe. Overall, fairly laid back. However, he still prefers to maintain distance between himself and most people. It was already a natural facet of his personality but it was exacerbated by the Timeline Jank. People tend to forget he’s as smart as he is, they don’t think he’s stupid, they just mostly know that funnyman side of him. If you're a dick to Papyrus, he's gonna be a dick to you.  

Papyrus: Things are so exciting and fascinating to him, even the most mundane things. Despite seeming completely oblivious to things that seem completely obvious, he's very smart and deceptively cunning. Even though he knows how people see him (a big loud child) and he doesn't get quite the reception his brother does, he knows he'll win them over one day! He tries to avoid thinking about how lonely he actually is. It’s fine. He knows Sans is dealing with something (he won’t tell him what) but he figures he doesn’t need much else on his plate.

UNDERSWAP:

Sans: In this post, I mentioned that he's kind of always naturally been the more outgoing brother and that he's taken on this much more outgoing and bubbly persona as a result of the impact the timelines have had on him. He's competitive in a more aggressive way (maybe not quite the right word to use but), by which I mean he's kind of a sore loser sometimes. Also? He's a huge flirt, he's pretty skilled in the art of flustering.

Papyrus: Also in this post, I said that he's pretty chill until the conversation turns to something he's passionate about, then he reaches True Papyrus Volume Levels (and Chaos Levels). He is fairly relaxed, yes, but part of it is compensating for how awkward he can be. He gets embarrassed really easy, even something as small as misunderstanding something that was said. However! He’s a pretty popular artist online! Though he uses a pseudonym, being recognized and talked to by a stranger in public is not something he would look forward to.

UNDERFELL:

Sans: He’s cruel and crude, that’s kind of his whole thing. He’s not really the best at keeping a hold on his temper (though there’s a few other factors at play there). Keeping up the whole tough guy persona is the number one priority thus he doesn’t deal much with his emotions or inner turmoil or any of that other crap. Like US!Sans, he’s a flirt, except his flirting is mostly crude comments and jokes. And yet, somehow it works? Guy who is a disaster. He’s oddly nostalgic, mostly about his relationship with Papyrus. He wishes he could have been a better brother, but it seems like their relationship is too far gone.

Papyrus: He also doesn’t have the best control of his temper but he has an image to keep, one of a cruel and cold Royal Guard Captain. He didn’t used to be like this, but it’s necessary for his survival. He’s still surprisingly empathetic, something that could never really be beat out of him. HUGE perfectionist nearly to the point of it being debilitating. He oscillates between hating how weak he is and desperately wanting to be able to be weak. While he acts prideful about his ‘work’ int the Royal Guard, he is genuinely prideful about things like his cooking. Often to the point of arrogance.

SWAPFELL:

Sans: He’s seen as very cold and calculating, well-spoken. But he also knows when and how to turn on the charm. That’s how he’s even made it this far in life, it’s vital to his survival. He can also be very prideful, particularly in his position as Queen Toriel’s right hand and in his ability to remain cool in high stress situations. He’s well aware of how overprotective he is with Papyrus, he’s terrified of how cruel the world is and terrified that he’s stunted him to the point of not being able to cope with it.

Papyrus: He’s deathly shy. If it were safe/a good idea to use his own brand of shortcuts to get out of situations, by god would he. He, like his non-Fell counterpart, thrives in the relative anonymity of being online. Past that barrier of shyness, he’s excitable and surprisingly jovial. He tries to find some reason to be at least content, he thinks it helps Sans worry less (even if it doesn’t really). He’s actually pretty mischievous, though only dares to pull pranks on his brother.

HORRORTALE:

Sans: Horribly cynical and jaded. He’s working on it, even if he doesn’t particularly want to sometimes. He’s not home, so to speak, most of the time. He’s easily frustrated by the gaps in his memory, then he forgets why he’s frustrated and gets even more upset. He’s naturally very wary of everyone else and again, very much prefers to keep distance between himself and most everyone he comes into contact with.

Papyrus: He definitely tries to hide everything behind a happy demeanor, he tries to fix everything for just about anyone (especially his brother) without any fuss and tries to make it seem like he’s totally fine. There’s also this sense of jadedness, he tries to curb it but sometimes it still slips out. He still tries to act like himself, like he’d been before the Famine, but it’s exhausting and he’ll eventually come to terms with the fact that he’s no longer the same.

HORRORSWAP:

Sans: His competitive nature has morphed more into him being more of an aggressive hothead (though not quite to the level of UF!Sans). He’s really self-conscious about his new stutter and bringing it up frustrates him the same way treating him like a child had before. He has terrible mood swings, he can ruin his own day over nothing and it kills him. He’s really trying to get better, but he still has a hard time being honest with people.

Papyrus: He’s gotten pretty cynical since the Famine, he puts part of the blame on himself (if only he'd just been brave for once), even though he knows there's not really a whole lot he could have done. He’s even quieter than he used to be, he’d prefer if he could just fade into the background. He hates how much he stands out in any crowd and tries to avoid going out at all costs. The only one who can get him out is Sans because at least they can ignore everyone else and concern themselves with each other.

HORRORFELL:

Sans: He’s...mean. Like. He tends to be a major jackass. He can’t help but think well, humans aren’t exactly gonna wanna know a monster, much less him. And hey! Might just help keep his newly expanded family safe! He ain’t complainin’! He’s really just bitter about how things have gone for him and his brother (and about how things will likely go in the future). For as many dark jokes he makes to Frisk and Aliza, he’d be the first one to come to their rescue, he’s just that kind of friend.

Papyrus: He’s fairly quiet these days, but don’t think he’s not going to find some way to give you some kind of attitude. He’s been putting a lot of work into taming his anger, which is no small task considering everything. He still has his moments, but he prides himself in being able to cool off and keep himself somewhat calm. He still hasn’t been able to do much about his perfectionism, in fact it’s gotten worse, but he’s trying. And he, like his brother, is extremely protective of his little family, and god help anyone who dares try anything.

A B-Bonus????

UF!Comic Papyrus: (he’s the only one with a nickname...lol) Reggie here struggles a lot with who he is as a person, is he more Sans? More Papyrus? An even 50/50? Or is he someone else entirely? He’s introspective and hyper aware of his mannerisms, particularity in the ones he deems too Sans-like or too Papyrus-like. He’s not exactly the nicest, partially as a mechanism to keep people away (it’s just...easier that way). Reggie keeps to himself most of the time. He’s not shy though, he’s more than willing to speak his mind, even if it comes out more crass than it was intended.

#undertale headcanons #undertale #underswap #underfell #swapfell #horrortale #horrorswap #horrorfell #sans #papyrus #comic papyrus #ratsoh-writes #as always im not sure im happy w this but im not letting myself fuck w it any longer lol. #i was gonna add the bros from my own au but. ive never talked about them #maybe youll see them some other time

[umbrixunversed]

Owl House theory because I! Am! Hyperfixating!

Also I haven't technically finished season one because that requires time to Sit Down and Focus so I just have been absorbing information via Tumblr and fanfics so... Dubious understanding of canon details.

I'd use a read more but I'm on mobile and can't figure out how to do that so if you don't care or are avoiding spoilers I suggest you start scrolling.

---

Belos is the son of Philip, possibly out of multiple. Mom probably a Clawthorne ancestor bc Belos also seems to like using bird motifs considering all the wing imagery + the Coven mook masks are all very much birds and birds are Clawthorne things.

This is why Belos has knowledge of a lot of things, but doesn't seem to have quite the *same* knowledge that one might expect if he was Philip. It's second hand or taught. Not lived. Personal. There's gaps.

Also two theories on how he got cursed, both mirroring Eda and Lilith in different ways.

One:

Belos doesn't have/had very little natural magic but his sibling *did*. He got cursed bc his sibling, pissed that despite them having magic, Belos seemed to be their Dad's favorite, and felt the need to one-up him somehow.

( He might have been the favorite. Or he might have just spent more time with him because neither could use magic. They were both odd ducks in the boiling isles, and weirdos have to stick together, right? )

Anyway, sibling tries to take on the power of the Titan itself. This goes… Poorly. Belos does something, possibly the same spell Eda and Lilith used-- an old family spell, which is why Eda and Lilith knew it!-- and ends up cursed himself. Maybe Philip and Mom dies in the fiasco, which is part of why Belos is against wild magic? But sibling survives, maybe becomes the Collector later, seeking more power but dissatisfied with most results after the Titan? Might have children beforehand, or maybe there's another sibling, or maybe our current Clawthornes are descended from an aunt or uncle, and technically unrelated to Belos. Shrug.

Theory 2 is:

Philip's family was down and out, and upon discovery of the boiling isles, Philip brought back some things that he could to help them out. Maybe there was a sickness going around and he used potions to help cure it? And then witch trials happened. And there's the Wittenbanes. Very much using actual literal witchcraft. Philip escapes with a sibling ( I like brother bc then terrible uncles get to be a theme ) maybe, but everyone else is dead. Sibling now hates witches and magic. Sibling extra hates that Philip has settled down here with these horrible things that killed their family. Sibling does something Very, Very Dumb. Sibling turns themselves into a curse, potent either due to the intent or possibly they tried to pull from the Titan and became a two-fold curse, with Philip being the first victim. The possession curse thing just… Tears through him. Soon enough he's dying and tries to send his family away but Belos just *refuses* to leave his Dad and tries to care for him despite his wishes. Which leads to the sibling getting a hold of him. He tries to fight, tries to find a way to extend his life to keep it from tearing through more people, but this just ends with what we see now: Someone much less Belos and much more the curse, cruel and cunning, patient after so long being held back… And much better at wheedling people into destructive behaviour.

Originally thought there'd have to be direct descendants bc Hunter but Grimwalker theory makes that obsolete. Maybe still is and Grimwalker book is a red herring. Who knows. Anyway. If Hunter is a Grimwalker I think he might be a clone of Philip. He just looks like a witch bc all those magic ingredients had an Effect.

Lil' Rascal was Philip's palisman, and it got it's scar from Belos waaaaay back when when he tried to munch it bc Titan hUNGER. Also headcanon that Palismans normally have a bit of a witches magic ( Is this Canon or did I read this in a fanfic? I don't know. ) But bc Philip was human a 'lil bit of soul will suffice :) So lil' Rascal is also kind of low-key Philip.

Also Belos either cut his ears to blend in or he was born with odd tiny crumpled mangled ears bc half-breeds are… Quirky. ( Esp bc not even any of the humans we see I think have quite the same way of drawing the inside of the ear there? Like Luz doesn't have that little round bit. )

Also Belo's plan is very much the Titans/the uncle's… And it's trying to kill off the witches. If it's the Titan it does NOT like them for… some reason. Maybe sapping what magic it has left? Or maybe sibling/uncle just really pissed it off with their stunt and these fuckers just gotta go wholesale now. Either way it's trying to get to the human realm bc 1) Humans and "witches" historically Do Not Mix. ( Hello, witch trials! ) 2) Magic seems to be in the realm of the boiling isles, not just the Titan, so removing from there might substantially weaken them eventually. Sure, they have bile sacks, but how much you want to bet that bile is produced as a by-product from everything they eat and maybe even breathe? How long will that last outside the isles? Especially if they have to defend themselves against our warmongering asses. It will NOT be pretty. Whatever's actually left of Belos is pretty much coo coo for cocoa puffs after so long. There might not even be much left, or if there is he's mostly stuck inside his own head. Might not even be aware of what's going on! ANGST!

#owl house #owl house spoilers #emperor belos #hunter #When was the last time I used my tumblr to make a post? #hell if I know but dear god I want someone to scream with #might use this to make a fic. might not. probably not my attention span is horrendous. #but maybe if people pester me? 👀

[razieltwelve]

Writing Genre Fiction

Not all fiction is the same. It’s why we often divide stories according to which genre or sub-genre they belong to. In the case of fantasy, it’s not unusual to see stories classified as epic fantasy, or humorous fantasy, or dark fantasy, amongst many others. Each of these genres or sub-genres has its own quirks and conventions, and a reader can generally tell whether or not a story fits fairly quickly. As a writer, then, what are some of the things you should consider when writing for a particular genre or sub-genre?

In my opinion, it comes down to the five crucial aspects of a story:

Characters

Plot

Setting

Themes/ideas

Writing technique

Each of these five areas is vital to the success of a story and each genre or sub-genre has its own conventions that apply to each of these areas. Adhering to these conventions, or at least acknowledging them, is the easiest way to ensure your story fits into a particular genre or sub-genre. To illustrate this, let’s pretend we’re trying to write a humorous fantasy or a dark fantasy story.

Characters

Characters are the heart of a story. There are very, very, very few stories that can survive having boring and formulaic characters. In contrast, readers are often willing to overlook a lot of flaws in a story if the characters are interesting and engaging enough. If you want to write a humorous fantasy, then you need to make sure that humour is a part of your characters.

Let’s start off with one of the stereotypes of fantasy fiction: the adventurer. Now, adventurers are commonplace in fantasy fiction. If we want readers to know that they’re reading a humorous fantasy, then we need to make our adventurer a humorous fellow. Now, this doesn’t mean that the adventurer has to be funny. On the contrary, it is entirely acceptable for their misfortune to be the cause of other people’s mirth. Consider the following introduction:

Jeremy could still remember the day he’d first joined the Adventurer’s Guild. They’d given him a wooden plate with his name on it and told him to go kill some goblins. That first mission hadn’t gone exactly to plan. If it hadn’t been for a serendipitous landslide annihilating the goblins’ camp, he might well have met his end then and there. However, there was nothing wrong with a bit of luck to start a man’s adventuring career off. Surely, it wouldn’t be long before his wooden plate gave way to a copper one and then a silver one and then perhaps even a gold one. Ideally, he’d get to platinum one day, but he didn’t want to be too arrogant.

Of course, his first mission hadn’t been the only one that hadn’t gone to plan. The second hadn’t gone to plan either, nor had the third, or the fourth, or the fifth… In fact, it had been ten years and twenty-seven missions, and he still had a wooden plate dangling around his neck. On the upside, he’d finally upgraded from a pointy wooden stick to a proper spear. It was progress. Kind of.

Now, the moment a reader gets through those two paragraphs, they’re going to know what kind of story this is. It’s going to be a humorous fantasy. The very nature of the character (Jeremy) makes it clear that humour is going to play a part in the story. What if we wanted to write a dark fantasy? Well, we’d have to approach it differently:

Ten years and twenty-seven missions. That’s how long he’d been eking out a living. Mission to mission. Day to day. Never knowing when he’d finally bite off more than he could chew. He’d done everything he could to rise up through the ranks, but nothing had worked. He’d lost a few fingers for his troubles – and more than a few friends. The best nights were the ones he didn’t dream. But when he did dream…

Gods. He could still hear the screams. He’d seen fellow adventurers ripped to bits by goblins, crushed under landslides, or set ablaze by fire drakes. It wasn’t skill that had allowed him to survive. It was luck. And maybe a bit of cowardice. But adventuring wasn’t a job for heroes. No. Heroes got killed quickly. It took a cunning man to survive, and a cunning man had to be willing to cut his losses, even if it meant losing a few friends in the process. It might make it hard to sleep at night, but it was still better than ending up in a dragon’s belly or on some ogre’s skewer.

Again, you can see how the character himself is quite a dour, pragmatic fellow. This already makes it obvious that the story will have different feel to it than the earlier one. Moreover, his explanation of his history makes it very clear that this is a world where bad things can and do happen quite frequently to people in his profession. Moreover, his admission that running and abandoning people is acceptable demonstrates a certain… darkness to the world he inhabits.

Characters often reflect the genres or sub-genres they are a part of. If you want to write a humorous fantasy or a dark fantasy, then that needs to be reflected in your characters.

Plot

The plot is another critical part of a story. It is, simply speaking, the sequence of events that occurs throughout the story. Once again, the plot itself can be used to signpost what sort of story a reader is dealing with, and readers who want to read a particular genre or sub-genre will almost always expect certain things from the plot.

For a humorous fantasy, this often means a subversion of expectations to create humour. Since fantasy, as a genre, has so many expectations, this is actually not as difficult as it might seem at first glance. Imagine you’re reading a story and you get this for a plot:

Prince Zachary was the second-most dashing prince in all the land. To become the most dashing prince, all he needed was to rescue a princess. It’s a pity, then, that there aren’t any princesses that need saving. What to do? Well… why not use his royal wealth to train a commoner to pretend to be a princess before hiring a dragon to pretend kidnap her? He could then ‘rescue’ the princess and claim the number one ranking. What could possibly go wrong? How about everything.

As you can see, the plot subverts a whole host of expectations in a way that immediately makes it clear that this is going to be a humorous story. Indeed, the plot is perfectly set up to create humorous situations from beginning to end. Now, what if we wanted to write a dark fantasy? Dark fantasy has its own expectations, and in this case, we’ll want to conform to them. That means taking the normal fantasy tropes and ideas and adding some grim darkness to them.

Prince Zachary was once the heir to the second-most prosperous kingdom in the land, but betrayal saw the downfall of his family. Robbed of his birthright and forced to wander the land disguised as a commoner, Zachary struggles to survive. Ambushed on a lonely road by bandits, he finds himself on the verge of death. Wounded, penniless, and alone, Zachary has no choice but to abandon his honour to survive. If he wants to reclaim his throne, he’ll have to become the same sort of monster as the traitors who struck down his family.

Dark fantasy features dark themes (as the name suggests), and this generally needs to be reflected in the plot. Betrayal, tragedy, and general horribleness are all parts of dark fantasy, and you’re going to need to have them in your plot if you want to write a dark fantasy. It’s not a coincidence that so many dark fantasy stories have what seems to be a whole dictionary’s worth of awful things happening to people.

The plot your story has can often be one of the biggest tells as to which genre or sub-genre it belongs to. A humorous fantasy will often have a humorous plot. A dark fantasy will often have a darker plot.

Setting

The setting of a story is the world in which the story exists as well as the rules that govern that world. What sort of setting you have will greatly influence how your story is perceived by the reader. As you can imagine, a setting full of tragedy and woe will lend itself more easily to a dark fantasy story… unless you make the tragedy and woe so utterly ridiculous that it becomes funny, in which case you’ll end up with a humorous fantasy. Don’t believe? Let’s try it out.

Evermere is a world riven with conflict. Its petty kings have fought for centuries, and their wars have done nothing but wreak havoc and suffering upon common folk and nobles alike. Driven to ever greater depths of desperation, the squabbling kings have turned to demonic pacts to further their power. Now, demons walk the land, harvesting the souls of all those unfortunate to cross their path and inflicting even greater tortures on all those who dare to oppose them.

Yeah. The world described above is pretty awful. It’s got all the ingredients you need for a dark fantasy because it allows you to deploy all of the most common tropes, traditions, and conventions (e.g., people getting tortured, civilians getting wiped out, people being betrayed, bloody conflict for petty reasons, etc.).

But what if we turned the tragedy and woe up to eleven? Well, then you’d get a setting that actually lends itself to humour:

Evermere is a world where kings are a dime a dozen. Wait. That was last week. Right now it’s about a penny a dozen – royal inflation and all that because of all the unnecessary kin-slaying and treachery. And let’s not forget the demons. Constant civil war wasn’t bad enough. Someone actually thought getting demons involved was a good idea. Now the local tax collectors are joined by demonic soul collectors in a never-ending bid to suck commoners and nobles alike dry of all their wealth and their souls.

As you can see, the setting here makes it clear that this is going to be a humorous sort of story despite it being quite dark. Indeed, the increased darkness is such that it actually goes from being dark to being amusingly over the top.

Setting matters. The world your story is set in is what gives it context. Dark fantasy stories often have dark settings. Likewise humorous fantasy stories tend to have humorous settings. In a dark fantasy, demons might expect payment in souls. In a humorous fantasy story, demons might demand payment in limited edition action figures.

Themes/Ideas

Every story has themes and ideas. In some stories, these might play a very central role. In others, they are more in the background. By now, you can tell where I’m going with this. Each genre or sub-genre has themes that occur quite frequently. Including these themes will often make it easier to write for those genres or sub-genres.

If you want to write a dark fantasy, it’s likely you’ll end up including themes or ideas like:

Betrayal

Crime paying off

The good guys not always winning

Pragmatism over honour

Moral relativism

What makes humorous fantasy (and humour in general) a bit of a special case is it’s not so much about what themes or ideas you employ but more about how you use them. For example, you can write a perfectly serviceable humorous fantasy using the themes given above with a few tweaks. Have the betrayal at the heart of the story be something petty, such as two wizards going to war because one dared to wear the same robes as the other to a prestigious convention. As for moral relativism, instead of making it a complex discussion about moral shades of grey, make it a story about a guy who has realised that sometimes it makes sense to pay a dragon to eat the bandits who’re troubling your village.

Certain themes and ideas lend themselves best to particular genres and sub-genres. Making use of those themes and ideas will help you to write a story that satisfies the reader and fits into those genres and sub-genres.

Writing Technique

Writing technique refers to the technical aspects of writing, such as word choice, sentence composition, and so on. Different genres and sub-genres are written in different ways, so conforming (or not conforming) to those standards can make your life as a writer easier.

Take something like epic fantasy. In most epic fantasies, you tend to see more advanced vocabulary and longer, more complex sentences. The prose will often come across as a bit florid or even purple to those who aren’t fond of epic fantasy stories. In contrast, dark fantasy stories tend to lean more toward more succinct prose and grittier descriptions and exposition. Battle isn’t some glorious, heroic endeavour out of story and song. It is brutal and ugly and bloody and all too real. Likewise, humorous fantasy has its own writing techniques, such as hyperbole, contrast, and so on.

Just contrast these descriptions of a battle.

Blood. The coppery smell of it filled the air. Gerard’s spear caught in his opponent’s gut, and the dying man lunged forward with his sword. Gerard let go of the spear and dodged the desperate slash before he drew his dagger and jammed it into the man’s throat. Blood spewed from the wound, and he shoved the other man into the muck of the battlefield. At his feet, a wounded man clutched at his leg. He kicked him in the face and yanked his spear free. There was still plenty of killing to do.

That, as you can imagine, would fit well into a dark fantasy. It’s gritty, realistic, and definitely dark. Now, how about something different:

The two men circled each other, their blades at the ready, each as keen for battle as a berserk wolverine. With all the grace of two walruses fighting on the shore, the pair lunged forward. To call what followed combat would have been an insult to the word combat. It was closer to the deranged flailing of two half-witted drunks.

The writing style should immediately give away that this isn’t a serious story. Instead, it’s a humorous one.

Writing technique can greatly impact how a story is perceived. Things like word choice, sentence construction, metaphor, exaggeration, and more can all help define what genre or sub-genre a story belongs to.

Summary

If you want to write a genre story, then you need to understand how that genre works. Each genre has its own rules, expectations, and conventions. You don’t need to slavishly follow all of them, but incorporating at least some of them into the characters, plot, setting, themes/ideas, and writing techniques you employ will make your task far easier – and far more enjoyable for the readers. This applies to areas as diverse as dark fantasy and humorous fantasy.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

#writing #writing technique #writing advice #writing tips #improving your writing #writing humor #writing dark fantasy #genre writing

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - When it's cold

TW: Dark thoughts, existential dread

Tyreen has always acted like coming here was the best decision she’s made for them, it’s pissed him off more than she’s ever appeared to notice, but then again her pretending like she isn’t picking up on his frustrations is nothing new.

She’s spent years singing this planet’s praises, how she loves everything about it and he should be thankful that his sister got them out of the cage that was their home, but she can’t lie to her twin. Never could, even though it’s not once stopped her from trying.

Troy knows her better than his own scars, and for all her intense skill in bullshitting, he sees through her every time. Even the times he really wishes he didn’t.

She fucking HATES Pandora as much as he does. Hell, maybe even more, her rage always tracked deeper through her bones than his could muster. He’s too tired to hate the way she does, it’s exhausting to burn with that dark a fury for so long.

He told her to her face the day they landed here that this planet was a shithole. He told her he wanted to go home, that staying here was not going to pay off the way she insisted it would for them. He’s told her the same thing practically every day since in one way or another, but she shrugs it off, twists it into a joke, reassures him in that silky smooth purr that it’s not that bad, that the filth of old blood in the sand and choking dry heat is worth it for what they have become.

Stars.

And maybe it would have been worth it if they had just stayed stars like she’d originally wanted, but things have changed over the years. He hates himself for believing her when he knew, just like he always did, that she was lying. Now that goal he worked so hard to reach for them both has been ripped from his grasp, now he’s stumbling behind her again as she demands he turn his cunning towards her new target - to be Gods, and Troy’s not sure he actually wants to be a God… not on Pandora.

He’s heard enough about the deities of this place from the natives to know whatever Pandora sees as holy is something far beyond his pathetic being. Shuddered as Jak-Knife wove myth of the great flood and the hunger beneath the sands, felt nausea snake through his stomach as they described something both terrible and disturbingly familiar. The eyes. The maw.

The great hunger of the mad song.

That’s not who he is even if the thrill of fear that runs down his spine when he considers it is almost pleasure, and it’s not who he wanted to be, if he still remembers correctly at least. The Troy he wanted to be is probably dead now, another desiccated corpse claimed by survival on Pandora. The possibility of that life is gone, he thinks. He’s not even really sure if he’s alive - the Troy he became in the end.

Tyreen says “We” will be Gods when she snares him so kindly in those manipulations whispered like love. “We” used to mean him and her back when they were two parts of the same whole and Mom would remind them how that would never change, but he’s started to really question if it has.

Tyreen’s “We” now rings with the dread of something he can’t quite place.

Nekrotafeyo was beautiful. Cool, rich blues marring into the same violet black you’d catch behind your eyelids just before drifting into sleep. The sky was so many colours at sunset, and plants, animals, all living things gently pulsed with a bio-luminescence that meant night was never true darkness. 

Pandora is dead.

It’s just.. sand and jutting rocks in formations that don’t track naturally, that gave him fever dreams for the first couple of years about the things that must have shaped them. The air tastes like chemicals. The dirt is laced with oil, it’s vile. It’s sticky, ravenously hot, freezing cold, and it doesn’t want you to live on it.

He won’t rule Pandora as a deity, he can’t. It’s not made for that. 

Pandora is a tomb, and in the back of God-King Calypso’s mind, he’s pretty sure he’ll die here just like the thousands who’ve gurgled his blessed name through their last breath in honor to their Holy Father. He won’t go in a blaze of glory, those are for the good and he’s anything but, he’ll just probably be a corpse his sister uses as a stepping stone to lurch towards her divinity.

That sounds about right for someone like him, and as the years go on, as he realises Seifa is not coming back and his friends are cracking under the burden of his existence in their lives, he thinks about it more and more.

Sometimes, on those icy cold Pandoran nights when he can’t sleep, when he’s been awake days and his eyes feel like their full of grit and joints ache with every breath, he goes outside.

Sanctum is docked near the pinnacle of the Grand Cathedral, like a thorn jutting from the tower of the twin’s shared cloister. It’s so high that the screeching noise of the night city below is almost drowned out by the wind that whistles through the gothic parapets, and sometimes when his kingdom is laced in glittering frost reflecting the glaring neon of the lights that dot the streets, he scales it.

Awkwardly clambers up the side of his ship as the dead weight of that horrible arm pulls at his spine with each twist, fingers fumbling for grip in the little rivets of freezing sheet metal as he hauls his heavy, exhausted body up inch by inch till he reaches the flat of the hull and crawls to the centre.

Throws his coat down and sits on the pooled fabric, pulls his knees up to his chest, closes his eyes, and waits as he focuses on the distorted music and crowd chatter that manages to filter from the metropolis so far below.

Lets the freezing cold air goosebump his bare skin as it leeches his warmth and creeps through the iron of his bracer, straight into his bones. Waits for his lungs to start stuttering out puffs of steamy breath as he begins to shiver under the clear night sky. Waits, and thinks about not having been born.

When he gets just cold enough, he can’t feel his broken body anymore, but he can think so clearly and he wonders if this is what it would be like. Not being in pain. Not living under the mental fog of the cocktail of drugs he relies on now just to ward off the nightmares. Not holding so much pathetic regret inside his ribs.

Not dying, that’s something else, being alive and then deciding to not be is very different and he’s not a coward. He’s not. Just… not having existed in the first place at all.

That’s not the same. That’s very easy to imagine even if you’re not a coward. 

If he’d never been born so many people would be so much happier.

Tyreen would be... whole. She’d be pure, wouldn’t she. If he hadn’t taken half of her power the way he did, she wouldn’t be the way she is now. She’s told him that plenty, how it’s his fault. All of it.  Mom would never have died. Dad would have stayed full of sunshine and jokes and love. Where would they be now as a family, them and Ty? Travelling the universe? Seeking out siren lore?

Leda wouldn’t be dead. Typhon wouldn’t be abandoned. Tyreen wouldn’t be whatever the fuck he’d helped turned her into. A monstrous god of her own making, or a sad child crying for her parents. He’s not sure which.

Troy has damaged so many people by being alive and there’s no goodness from it. There’s no payoff, no benefit. What’s the point of it? He’s broken. The power he stole doesn’t even work, so what was it all for? What’s he done bar cause pain and death just by existing?

Is that not exactly what a parasite does?

The COV wouldn’t exist if he’d never. The billions they’d affected would be all the better for it really, despite what they tell each other about “bettering” the lives of Pandora’s lost and the galaxy’s lonely. 

Eli and Ven would have found someone better to seek help from, wouldn’t they. The Oracle wouldn’t be the shadow of himself that he is now, exhausted and so sad. Jak-Knife would probably be leading their own clan, not babysitting a pathetic excuse for a man that worked them to the bone while simmering with jealousy towards how much he wished he was them.

Seifa… 

If he’d died on Seifa’s ship, where would she be? Somewhere warm and nice where when it rained the water was refreshing and not a slurry of red dust. With someone who deserved her.

He knows where she is now, a station he wouldn’t punish someone by exiling them to… and it was his fault she was there.

The back of his mind agrees that he is the crux of so much pain. He’s the one that’s the cosmic mistake.

Sometimes he’d like to ask Leda, she’d know the answer. Mom had known everything when they were small, had the answer to every curiosity or confusion from little minds, so he tries to. Whispers a question he doesn’t even understand to the stars through chattering teeth. He wishes she could hear him.

He’s always relieved when she can’t.

The cold defeats him in the end, every time. His body forces him to struggle to his feet and stiffly begin the climb back as the city below starts to quiet, shimmying slowly down the hull between handholds that bite into his icy fingers as the wind howls. 

There’s a fleeting thought whenever he’s slowly picking his way down to the entry port that it would actually be really easy to slip, and he’s surprised it hasn’t happened yet. THAT would be the kind of ending he’s going to get anyway, one stupid little mistake from a hand he can barely feel, and all that would be left of him would be a mess for some poor fucker below to clean up. 

He smirks at it, but knows in reality his traitorous wings would save him. 

The port airlock hisses open and he stumbles into the warmth of his ship every time, he doesn’t fall, he doesn’t cease, he just passes out in the cocooning dark of his bedroom.

It’s survival instinct that does it, that makes him move and forces him back inside, but he still goes outside on those freezing nights, because maybe one night... it finally won’t.

Not that he’d get to be that lucky, he’s got a cult to run in the morning, and Tyreen would never forgive him anyway.

#Borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #leech lord #my writing #my hcs #seifa

[hedusworld]

No pain, no gain? (Part II)

Alright, it's time to delve into how Ock's symbiotes impacted Harry in the cartoon and the extent of the damage he endured. This post was particularly challenging to put together due to Harry's limited interactions with the symbiotes, resulting in a scarcity of material for analysis. Oh well, let's get on with it.

Let me begin by stating that in my opinion, Norman's transformation was undoubtedly more physically agonizing than Harry's. Norman's entire body underwent a drastic change, whereas Harry was fortunate enough to only be consumed by Venom.

When Harry initially encounters the Venom symbiote, everything appears to be going smoothly. He effortlessly commands his new suit, and removing the symbiote seems like a simple task. However, I'm convinced that Venom drained Harry of his courage and determination, seizing the opportunity when the boy was blinded by his anger towards Norman. Subsequently, things take a turn for the worse, following the all-too-familiar Osborn pattern.

The Venom symbiote is deviously cunning. While Norman's transformations focused on physical changes, the symbiote preys on Harry's fragile mind and dark thoughts to manipulate him and seize control of his body. I envision Harry being engulfed in a murky darkness while under the symbiote's influence, clouding his judgment and causing him to inadvertently harm those he holds dear.

The sense of panic and helplessness must be overwhelming for Harry. Trapped in a suffocating grip, he struggles to break free but finds himself ensnared in a web of darkness with no clear way out. To make matters worse, Venom thrives on consuming its host's thoughts, creating a volatile combination that spells disaster.

In short, the symbiote's insidious tactics and Harry's inner turmoil make for a dangerous and precarious situation. It's a recipe for disaster that leaves little room for hope or escape.

Harry's relationship with the symbiotes is like a rollercoaster ride, depending on his moods. In Season 1, he couldn't control it, but in Season 2, he's more determined. By forcing himself to remember his true feelings, he's able to let go and break free. The symbiote hasn't caused too much damage yet, but that's all about to change...

Thanks to his father, Harry has inherited some serious physical strength. Before Anti-Venom came along, Harry bounced back pretty quickly (no brain damage either, surprisingly) and only ended up in the hospital once in Season 1. It's a mystery how he managed to keep Venom under control before the season finale. Maybe he learned to keep his emotions in check, or maybe Norman hadn't shown his true colors yet, so there was no need for aggression. Although, if my memory serves me right (which it usually doesn't), the symbiote was out of Harry's body from episode 11 until the finale when The Gobby injected him again. But who cares, the end result is still the same.

When that blasted Anti-Venom shows up, it becomes clear that Harry, despite supposedly growing up, still has a crippling fear of those pesky symbiotes. This time, he's completely overtaken by the symbiote and ends up in a coma. Norman, of course, is beside himself with worry, having already lost a son to Venom. Maybe Harry's subconscious remembered this and allowed the symbiote to take control. And because Harry was too distracted or shocked, and Anti-Venom was too powerful, he was basically a puppet on a string. Thank goodness he didn't turn into a goblin.

Thankfully, both Osborns managed to survive the chaos caused by Ock. Yes, there was pain, but there was also love. Harry's unwavering faith in Norman helped him pull through, and his loved ones reminded him that you can overcome anything if you have the will to do so.

Inspired by Harry Osborn and PTSD

#ultimate spider-man #usm #harry osborn #norman osborn