#stop deciding you have to be the crusader for improvement when you have not been asked for your opinion or critique | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soupbabe · 3 years

Note

Hsiadviqbje2h2k- uh-If you're feeling up to writing,,, May I request a platonic star dust crusaders with a child stand user on dios side-? Maybe the kid is hesitant on actually harming them and more or less trying to convince them to leave-

You don't have to do this aiahskapow

An Odd Enemy (Platonic! Stardust Crusaders + Child! Reader)

Dio forced you to be sent off with Hol Horse to defeat the Crusaders.

Kakyoin isn't here because this is low-key replacing the Boingo and Hol Horse episodes oops-

Warning (?) : Hol Horse being a jackass and mistreating reader

You've been living in Dio's mansion for a while now. Your mother being a servant of the ancient vampire, you had to come with her by default. To make yourself as useful as a 10 year old can be, Dio questioned what can you do to make yourself worthy to stay here. It was then you revealed your stand to him, only taking form of a sketch pad and a pencil. You drew your best interpretation of Dio. With a stick figure body, long hair, and the heart headband, your stand was able to register what you wanted to create and there stood an eerily similar looking Dio standing in front of the real one. Dio was impressed that your stand could replicate his likeness from a simple stick figure, although if you look at his doppelganger's pupils, they were just messy scribbles like in the drawing.

Dio saw potential in you and a lot of your time was spent with one of his servants training you on how you could use and improve your stand's ability. Soon enough with your training, you were able to figure out that the more detailed the drawing was, the better chance your stand had to manifest the drawings physically rather than it becoming an illusion. With the loss after loss of Dio's stand users, he sent you off on the big task to kill Jotaro Kujo and his crusaders.

Though with you, he paired you up with a cowboy named Hol Horse. He had been getting on Dio's nerves lately and thought to get him back by using his hatred of children against him. Hol's task was easy: look after you and if you come back with any physical injuries and/or you both fail in killing any of the Crusaders, Dio would kill him off. It would be the third time Hol Horse would encounter the group. If he couldn't succeed the third time, he would be useless from here on out.

Hol Horse glares at you, grumbling about how he has to "babysit" you while you both walk out of the building. "Hey cowboy, what are you talking about?" You looked up at him. "Nothin' of your concern, let's jus' move on and get this over with." You both walked around Cairo (you were more so dragged, Hol Horse deciding to do so because of your "short chicken legs") until Hol abruptly stopped and shoved you into alleyway to get out of sight of a familiar tower of silver hair.

The man held a tough grip on your shoulder and he kneeled down to your height. "Alright, here's what's gonna happen. You get out there and do whatever the hell you gotta do to get the French idiot with the bad hair back here. I'll take care of the rest. Got it?" He hardened his grip until you nodded, tears gathering around your eyes. There's bound to be a bruise later on your shoulder.

He gave you a smirk and shoved you out of the alleyway, causing you to trip and fall. The Frenchman you were supposed to distract was walking and talking to another man clad in gold jewelry and a red robe. You didn't think much of it and ran towards them, yelling for them to get their attention. Avdol was the one to see you and stopped Polnareff "Is something the matter?" He looked down at you with a smile. "I-I..." You were at a lost for words as your stress caved in into you. What was Lord Dio thinking? These men could crush you under their palm if they wanted to and the thought of how disappointed he would be in you alone could make you cry; the mean cowboy only making you feel worse. "Spit it out kid, we're on a tight schedule here." Polnareff looked down at you too, his features softening greatly when he saw you crying.

The two giants kneeled down next to you "Wait, kid, are you okay? I didn't mean to come off that mean..!" Polnareff panicked and you shook your head. "I-I can't d-do it...I'm so sorry!!" You hiccupped. Avdol and Polnareff looked at each other with confusion before mentally agreeing with each other on something. Avdol gave you a light pat on your shoulder and gave you a comforting smile, "Breathe with me okay? 1, 2, 3 take a deep breath in...1,2,3 take a deep breath out. Do you feel any better?" You nodded, "Y-yeah, thank you." Avdol gave you a little headpat. "What's your name? I'm Jean-Pierre Polnareff and this is my friend Muhammad Avdol." You looked at the both of them "I'm Y/N L/N."

You explained to them that you were paired with a man named Hol Horse to lure them into a trap. Once his name slipped from your lips, Avdol and Polnareff's face grew more serious. Immediately, they asked where he was hiding and you gladly told them. When you were close to the alleyway, Jotaro, Joseph, and Iggy caught up with the other crusaders.

"Okay Y/N, do you mind to tell me what's going on? You said that you 'can't do it.' Is someone making you do something you don't want to do?" Avdol asked. You looked around for any sign of Hol Horse and looked back at the two. They didn't seemed to be mad at all or have some sort of cold exterior. It was different from the people you had to deal with at the mansion, for the first time in a long time you found comfort in somebody. Even if they were the supposed 'enemy.'

Polnareff whispered to Joseph about what's going on and asked for them to take Y/N away from the scene that was going to be fighting grounds. Joseph looked at you and nodded. Before Hol Horse can get close to you to drag you back, Joseph took your hand and walked off to a nearby cafe with Jotaro and Iggy, leaving Polnareff and Avdol with Hol Horse. They both smirked, more than ready to get some revenge on the cowboy.

On the walk to the cafe, you clung to Joseph's arm, shying away from the large teenager everytime he glanced back at you. You've heard a lot about Jotaro Kujo, he was the one that landed a lot of people you hung out with in the hospital. Although Dio claims that he isn't a big deal, you couldn't help but to have that underlying fear that he was going to hurt you.

Almost like sixth sense, Jotaro sighed. "Good grief kid, I'm not going to hurt you. You can stop looking at me like that." Joseph rolled his eyes "Be nice Jotaro! They've been through a lot today. Besides Y/N, you did a good thing today, you fessed up before anyone got hurt. I'm proud of you." The old man gave you a headpat while you all went to get seated. You smiled. Yeah, Dio has told you that he was proud of you when you were able to successfully hit targets during stand practice, but it never held anything behind it. It felt empty and cold compared to the warmth Joseph's voice had, spoken like a truly proud father.

You all sat around the cafe, talking to Joseph and Jotaro and bribing Iggy with food to get a couple of pets. You showed off your stand to them and told them how it works, using a glass of water as an example. Later on, Joseph asked you about Dio's whereabouts and you were able to give the best mock up of a map to them on a small notebook from Joseph's pocket. Your memory wasn't the best, but it made great progress in their journey. When Avdol and Polnareff returned, Polnareff puffed his chest out in pride, announcing that they were able to "burn that cocky cowboy to a crisp" and went to check up on you.

You all talked some more about yourselves and once they decided to leave, you didn't hesitate to run up to each crusader to give them a "Good luck" and a quick hug. Although Jotaro did push you away, it didn't stop Star Platinum from coming out to give you a hug himself, he even gave a little 'Ora' in goodbye when he was forced to retreat back to his user.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba part 3 #jojos bizzare adventure stardust crusaders #jjba x reader #stardust crusaders #Stardust Crusaders + child reader #x child reader #platonic x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo #joseph joestar #joseph joestar x reader #jean pierre polnareff x reader #jean pierre polnareff #muhammad avdol x reader #muhammad avdol

489 notes · View notes

sleepymarmot · 3 years

Text

I think Martin’s stance in the argument in MAG 194 was consistent with the opinions he’d voiced before.

Long post with a lot of quotes under the cut.

Martin’s Mindset

1) Killing avatars is good even if they seem nice (the line Martin draws is at killing a child):

172: [Jon: I don’t think he’s evil.] Oh, yeah, sure; he’s probably a really kind, benevolent ruler of a hellish fear prison.

173: Wh, What about the Avatar? I know you said it didn’t change anything, th-the domain would still exist, but at this point I don’t care, alright? Anyone who’s chosen to spend their apocalypse tormenting children – God, you need to end them. Now.

174: Why not [kill Simon]? Because he was nice to you? Because he was charming, because he was fun?

174: You’re removing evil from the world.

2) Making new avatars is not good:

184: [Jordan: What is this?] [Thin-lipped] Yeah, I’m curious about that myself.

184: [Jordan: Why?] Good question. Jon? Care to enlighten us?

184: [Jon: Didn’t want to just watch you suffer.] It’s what you’ve been doing for everyone else. It’s what you’re expecting him to do.

3) Being at peace with one’s existence as an avatar is bad:

185: Would he enjoy it? (...) Leave him.

186: But I can’t keep existing like this at their expense. It’s not… it’s not right. Whatever happens with Elias, W-with the rest of the world… I can’t live on the misery of others.

186: I get it, okay? I can’t decide what happens to them. But… I just might be able to decide what happens to me. And… And if it comes down to it…I’ll get John to destroy me like the others.

4) Being the one to decide who benefits and who suffers is a terrible responsibility:

185: [Jon: I’m sorry I put you in that position.] No, you were right to. That’s… that’s a lot of power to have to deal with. Lot of responsibility.

“And what? Replace them with new avatars from the people who don’t want to?”

Martin was very enthusiastic about killing avatars, yes. But the reverse? Not really. Both times the idea of turning the Watched into Watchers came up, it was Jon’s initiative. 184 is self-evident, but even in 185, where Martin is the one to make the decision, it’s Jon who asks him:

Inspector: You’ve got to help me! Jon: Martin? What do you think? Martin: What? Jon: I decided about Jordan. This place is from your past.

“I saw the kick you got out of making them scream for once”

I think this part of the argument caught many of us off guard. We all remember how much Martin pushed Jon towards killing avatars despite Jon’s discomfort, ethical dubiousness and practical pointlessness of that endeavour. But Martin isn’t simply projecting his own feelings onto Jon -- he did enjoy that too, this did not come out of nowhere this week:

166:

Helen: Oh, hello! In a better mood, are we? Feeling more secure now you’ve learned how to kill? Jon: Something like that.

Martin: I don’t see why you were being so coy about it – Jon: Because I’m ashamed, Martin. Martin: Ashamed?! Jon: Yes! Ashamed of the fact that I just – destroyed the world and have been rewarded for it, the fact that – I can walk safe through all this horror I’ve created like a… fucking tourist, destroying whoever I please. The fact that I… enjoyed it, and… the fact that there are so many others that I want to revenge myself on!

169:

Martin: John, is there another way? Jon: I mean – sort of? Maybe? Martin: That turn. You – You took a hard turn after the roots back there; I knew that was a thing! Why are we here? Jon: It’s just – when you said – Martin: Jon, why have you taken us here? Jon: Jude Perry. This is where Jude Perry rules. Martin: That’s the one who burned your hand, isn’t it? Jon: Yes.

Jon: I want revenge on Jude Perry. I want to… smite her. Make her feel what – What all her victims felt.

Jon: I’m here for you, Jude. To end you. Jude: (...) You’re bluffing. Jon: You know I’m not. You’re already afraid. Jude: Oh, I see. I get it. You finally get a sniff of power, and the first thing you do is try to settle some old scores. Play the big man; get off on good old-fashioned petty revenge. Jon: I’d have thought that was a mindset you would appreciate. Now, feel it. All the terror and pain you’ve inflicted. Jude: Oh, piss off – Look, look. Wait. Right? I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have burned your hand. Jon: No. You shouldn’t have.

171:

Martin: Why didn’t we go after the landlord guy? In the tenement. (...) Jon: It didn’t seem worth it. I didn’t – hate him like I hated her. He never hurt me.

174:

Jon: I just – This whole… avenging angel thing, I, I’m not – It doesn’t feel right. Martin: It seemed to feel right when we were avenging all the wrongs done against you. Jon: I know. I, I, I know, alright? But well – That’s kind of the problem; I, I have all this – power, and, and I want to use it to try to help, but I – I don’t know – I mean, I do. I-I’ve done so much damage, and – and anything that might help to balance that is – But killing other Avatars is, is not – I, I don’t think it makes anything better. I think it just makes me worse.

“You weren’t meant to enjoy [Kill Bill] this much!”

Initially, Martin enthusiastically suggested killing avatars because he thought it would improve the world:

166:

Martin: Th, This isn’t like it was before! We’re not talking about innocent bystanders in cafes here, Jon; these things are – th-they’re just evil, plain and simple, and right now they’re torturing and tormenting everyone! If you want to stop them and have the power to, then – then, then yeah, let’s do it, let’s go full Kill Bill!

169:

Martin: It’s not just your revenge though, is it? Destroying her… it would help all those people in there, wouldn’t it? Jon: Maybe? It’s… Like I said, I can’t see the future. It wouldn’t free them, if that’s what you’re asking. ‘Free’ doesn’t really exist in this place.

Jon: She’s gone. Martin: The fires are still here. Doesn’t look like much has changed. Jon: No. I suppose not. Martin: Let’s just get out of here.

171:

Martin: Why didn’t we go after the landlord guy? In the tenement. Jon: Arthur Nolan? Martin: Yeah. He’s still there, right? Jon: After Jude, th,the fires – I,I didn’t want to put you through anymore. Martin: Don’t do that. Jon: What? Martin: Don’t use me as an excuse. Jon: I-I’m not. I just – It didn’t seem worth it. I didn’t – hate him like I hated her. He never hurt me. Martin: But all the people inside. Jon: Killing Nolan wouldn’t have made it stop. It would just leave it – unsupervised. Martin: John – we are doing good, right? Making things better? Jon: I don’t know if that was ever an option.

173:

Martin: We’ve got to help them. Jon: How? Martin: I – I don’t know! I’m not the one who’s supposed to know everything, alright? There has to be something we can do!

Martin: Wh, What about the Avatar? I know you said it didn’t change anything, th-the domain would still exist, but at this point I don’t care, alright? Anyone who’s chosen to spend their apocalypse tormenting children – God, you need to end them. Now.

Jon: You see? Martin: See what, John; what am I supposed to see? That you don’t want to kill a – thirteen year old kid? Big revelation. Jon: I don’t know what you want me to do. Martin: I want you to use your power. I want you to help them; I want you to make things better! Jon: There is no better anymore. Martin: You keep – saying that, and I hate it! Jon: I keep saying it because it keeps being true; you know that! Martin: What I know, is that leaving children here is – (struggles for words) i-it’s inexcusable; it’s monstrous! Jon: Martin. Tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it!

Martin: Let’s get out of here. Jon: If you’re sure. Martin: The sooner we get back to the Archives, the sooner we can put a stop to this. All of this. They just – They’ll just need to hang on a little longer.

174:

Martin: You’re removing evil from the world. Jon: I, I’m not though, am I? The tenement fire is still burning. The mortal garden is growing wild. The carousel –

Hypocrisy?

As we see in the quotes above, both Jon and Martin were swept up by the feeling of newfound power and the idea of revenge. For Jon, pessimistic about the state of the world and personally hurt by some of the avatars they encountered on the road, it was mostly about personal vengeance. Martin, on the other hand, doesn’t have such a painful history with the avatars whose domains they pass, and the lack of Beholding-sourced knowledge and despair allows him to hold onto a false hope, making this an ideologically driven crusade.

With this in mind, let’s go back to 194:

Martin: I know what it’s like to be powerless. A-And I know you do too. And I also know what it’s like when you get a taste of– wh-when you’re finally able to–

Jon: What happened to “Kill Bill”? Martin: You weren’t meant to enjoy it this much!

These lines sound a lot like regret. Maybe I’m overestimating Martin’s level of self-awareness here, but it seems he has realized they both got drunk on power, and he pushed Jon in a direction he shouldn’t have. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment he puts all blame on Jon instead of taking responsibility for his own actions. Let’s hope that he apologizes later!

To be entirely clear, I think that the way Martin consistently treats Jon like a gun instead of a person in this subplot is in itself a problem. When Jon is ashamed of enjoying vengeance too much, Martin doesn’t like it; when he lets himself enjoy it, Martin disapproves too as we now know. Let’s look at three crucial points in the storyline side by side:

166:

Martin: Sure. Okay, that’s – I mean, that’s really not that complicated, John; I don’t see why you were being so coy about it – Jon: Because I’m ashamed, Martin. Martin: Ashamed?! Jon: Yes! Ashamed of the fact that I just – destroyed the world and have been rewarded for it, the fact that – I can walk safe through all this horror I’ve created like a… fucking tourist, destroying whoever I please. The fact that I… enjoyed it, and… the fact that there are so many others that I want to revenge myself on! Martin: …No; No, I actually think you’re good on that front. Jon: What? Martin: Yeah, I, I, I think we should go for it, get our murder on! Jon: Sorry, what? Helen: Yes, Martin! Martin: Th, This isn’t like it was before! We’re not talking about innocent bystanders in cafes here, Jon; these things are – th-they’re just evil, plain and simple, and right now they’re torturing and tormenting everyone! If you want to stop them and have the power to, then – then, then yeah, let’s do it, let’s go full Kill Bill!

174 (I left in some of the unofficial transcript’s stage directions to keep the picture clear):

Martin:That’s enough. John? Jon: Uh… yes? Martin: Do it. Simon: Uhh… Do what? Martin: Kill him. Jon: Uh – Simon: Hang on. Can he do that? Martin: (forceful) He can, and he’s going to! Simon: Oh! Right! Seems a bit rude, to be honest. Jon: Oh, oh… okay, um. Martin: Jon? Jon: J-Just give me a moment! I, uh, I – Simon: I-In fact, yes! You know what? I’ll, I’ll probably just be going, then – I, I – I’d prefer to keep existing, if it’s all the same to you, uhm – Martin: J-Jon! Jon: I – Simon: (fast) Been lovely chatting to you! Good to see you guys. Feel free to pop by again when you’re feeling less, um, murdery. Martin: (yelling) Jon! Simon: Byeee! Martin: You let him go. Jon: (weary) Yeah. Martin: Why? Jon: Because, uh… uh – Martin: (cutting him off) Why did you let him go, John?

194:

Martin: I know what it’s like to be powerless. A-And I know you do too. And I also know what it’s like when you get a taste of– wh-when you’re finally able to– Jon: That’s not what this is! Martin: I’ve been out there with you. I saw the kick you got out of making them scream for once. Jon: What happened to “Kill Bill”? Martin: You weren’t meant to enjoy it this much!

Looks like Martin assumed Jon’s desire for vengeance to be righteous anger. And didn’t like the realization that Jon’s murderous urges -- or his own, in Oliver and Simon’s cases -- are something darker, more personal and irrational.

Conclusion

When Martin had pressured Jon to act, it was done out of hope and idealism (misguided or not, we’ll see). He didn’t simply want Jon to do something -- he wanted him to make the world better. Call it naive, wilfully blind, unfair to Jon -- I’ve had my own share of frustration with Martin this season -- but he has had a very specific and consistent agenda. Sometimes both Jon and Martin are motivated by a personal grudge -- Jon against Not!Them and Jude and Jared, Martin against Oliver and Simon -- but overall, Martin thinks that this quest removes evil from the world.

What Jon proposes in 194 goes against all of Martin’s beliefs and wishes:

The total amount of evil is not reduced

New avatars are created

Jon appoints himself the one and only ultimate judge

By giving in to the Eye:

Jon lets it have what it had wanted all along, lets it win

Jon abandons morality for power

Jon abandons humanity and Martin for the inhuman evil happiness he can’t help but crave

Accepting this is at least as bad as doing nothing at all -- and perhaps even worse.

So I don’t think Martin’s being particularly irrational during the argument. Some of the things he says may be unfair, harsh, even cruel. You can say it was hypocritical of him to accuse Jon of enjoying the killing spree too much, since he was the one who proposed it and kept pushing Jon towards it with great enthusiasm. His “I forbid it” may be naive and childishly petulant, and this mindset might lead him to making bad choices in the future. But I don’t think he was projecting his own feelings onto Jon, or pulling arguments out of nowhere.

#the magnus archives #tma spoilers #mag 194 #martin blackwood #blah blah blah #finished the post right by the time everyone has already moved on. typical

18 notes · View notes

thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years

Text

Magnificent Scoundrels- Pariah

This was an absolute blast to write. I find that the interactions between the different cultures and battles scenes are probably the most fun to write, in my opinion. Here, we have more Vir and Cain. We are introduced to Conn, so shenanigans will most definitely ensue. I’m not quite sure if they’re the type of shenanigans you’re thinking of though...

As always, none of these characters belong to me. Enjoy the story!

Aboard the Omen

Things had gotten better. Tensions were much lower, thanks to Simone’s suggestion that Cain watch the Omen’s ground forces and Vir take up the Commissarial duties of the Valhallans. Both groups seemed to be more comfortable with each other. There were still competitions, of course, and they were still exceptionally competitive, of course, but they had lost their malevolent edge. Much was still to be learnt, however. Each side still retained quirks and habits that, to the other, seemed exceptionally odd.

The common Imperials were still xenophobic. A lifetime of teachings and practice couldn’t be changed in a matter of days or weeks. While both Vir and Cain preaching tolerance certainly helped, it did not eliminate the problem all together. It had gone from ‘I’m going to possibly shoot you on sight’ to ‘stay out of our way and we’ll stay out of yours.’ A definite improvement, all things considered.

There were still other oddities, as mentioned before. Not counting the posting of armed guards, any crew member of the Omen could instantly tell where the Valhallan quarters aboard the ship were. As benefitted ice worlders, their comfortable ambient temperature was slightly higher than freezing, and they set the air conditioning in their section of the ship to match. Vir found himself wearing heavy winter gear when he stayed with them for extended periods. He was also fairly certain there were a couple of them camped out in the cooling ducts, but there were no reports of damage or any mechanical problems, so he decided to let that slide.

However, Admiral Vir and his crew were a lot better off than the Imperials, seeing as they were used to strange and occasionally egomaniacal aliens aboard their ship. They had open minds.

To the Imperials, everything was just so… bizzare. It was like being in a completely other dimension. Here, aliens and humans got along. Talked together, fought together, laughed together. The Admiral was not a distant figure of authority, but instead more like a wise and older friend, ready to help you along any path you chose. Hell, the ship’s officers talked with the crew. You could actually see them walking through the halls. On Imperial vessels that transported soldiers, the Naval crew stayed in their area, and the infantry in theirs, with only the high ranking officers speaking to each other.

Then there was the ship itself. Like any proud naval personnel, the crew of the Omen liked to brag about their vessel. Apparently, it was brand new. Brand. New. Only in service for a year or more. What kind of ship was that? Usually, the troop ships of the Imperium were in service for centuries, if not millennia, and the Naval fighting platforms even longer. The oldest vessel Cain had ever been aboard was the massive battleship Throne Eternal, built during the days of the Great Crusade, some ten thousand years before.

Perhaps it was the fact that the ship was brand new, but it was so incredibly clean. The hallways were neat and sterilized. There was no accumulated grime. No comforting iconography. From the outside, the ship looked like a brick. It was all steely grey metal. It was so strange. So foreign. So distinctly… un-Imperial.

But, in the end, despite the oddities, it could be said that things were a lot more calm aboard. And so, it was with no small amount of alarm that Admiral Adam Vir remembered that Conn was aboard the ship.

Conn was an alien, which would have already put him on the Imperial’s bad side. But that, in and of itself, was not the problem. You see, Conn was a starborn, quite possibly the most unusual alien species in the galaxy. Ghostlike, they were small, white, and lived in the cold void of space. Accustomed to the blackness, they could not survive in any areas with gravity’s pressure without external help. But, much like an annoying infomercial, there was more. Starborns were natural telepaths. They could read the minds of almost any living being. Conn in particular was quite annoying about it. He reveled in the sensation of knowing everyone’s deepest secrets, and made no qualms about being nice about it. Most of the crew, Adam in particular, found him, to put it mildly, extremely annoying. He was kept around because he wasn’t truly malicious, despite indications otherwise, and his usefulness outweighed his flaws.

Vir had a sort of… connection with Conn. Due to an unfortunate accident that resulted in the loss of his eye, part of his brain had been skewered, making it easier for him to communicate telepathically. The strangest part of all of this was the fact Vir hadn’t heard from Conn the entire voyage. That was definitely not a good thing. Who knew what sort of mischief that could be wrought. He was fairly certain that Conn was not missing because he was wise enough to stay hidden from the Imperials. No. Something else was afoot.

So, with trepidation, he began his search.

Conn was not in any of his usual haunts. He wasn’t floating around annoying people, wasn’t where he usually lurked in the medical bay. No one had seen him. Not the engineers, the doctors, the marines, or any of the bridge crew. How very odd. It seemed as if no one had heard from him from the moment they had set off. So Vir had to do it the old fashioned way: wander around the ship, thinking as loud as he could to attract Conn’s attention.

It was only when he started to go in the passageways closest to the exterior of the hull that he started to get a response.

Conn? Conn? Can you hear me? Where are you?

I can’t hear… Emptiness. Void. Nothing. Nothing. He’s nothing. Nothing!

Conn? Where are you?

The darkness. Alone. Pain. Can't hear voices. Can’t hear thoughts.

Conn! Where are you? What’s wrong? I can’t help if you don’t tell me.

Slowly, through the telepathic link, he started to see where Conn was. Outside the vessel. Starborn were more comfortable and could survive in space. Conn was known to go in and out of the airlock of his own free will… but that didn’t explain why he had been there for so long. It also didn’t explain the strange mutterings and thoughts.

Adam? You’re here. You can hear me. Good. Not alone anymore. Something was very wrong. Conn was a jackass, through and through. Vir had never heard thankfulness and relief from him before.

Yes. I’m here. He tried to make the thought as reassuring as possible. Conn, what’s wrong? What is the problem?

It’s him. The closest thing to a mental hiss came with that word. He’s nothing! Pain. Misery. Alone with my thoughts!

Conn-

The void! Blackness. I can’t hear anything! I can’t hear!

Conn. Calm down.

Yes! Yes. The second yes was much more calm.

You can’t hear others’ thoughts? Is that it?

Yes. A vigorous telepathic nod.

Why? I’ve never heard of anything like that happening before.

It’s because of him! The thoughts were becoming hysterical again. He snuffs it out. He’s a void, a-

Conn! Stay focused. Who is he?

He- ARGHH! The mental connection was abruptly cut as a searing pain shot through Vir’s body. He collapsed to his hands and knees. He felt as if he did a long time ago, wounded and feverish during the Drev War with no painkillers. His mind was white hot, his body wracked with agony. The edges of his vision started to turn black. No! Don’t pass out! rebelled some far away part of his mind.

“Admiral!” said a voice, seemingly far away. He focused on the voice. Deep breaths. Come on. Stay conscious. The blackness receded. The voice got stronger.

“Admiral, sir! Are you all right?” asked someone hesitantly. Vir shifted his weight to his side and clutched his head. What the hell happened?

“Yeah, I think I’ll be alright,” he murmured. He shook his head to clear it of any last vestiges of pain. “What was… doesn’t matter.” He turned, and found himself face to face with a most unexpected individual. Jurgen, the Commissar’s aide.

“Good to know that you’re alright, sir.” A grimy hand reached out and handed Vir a data pad. “The Commissar wanted me to give you this.”

“Ah, yes. Personnel rosters. Thank you, Jurgen. I won’t take up any more of your time.” Jurgen saluted and walked away, leaving Vir staring, perplexed, at the pad in his hands.

Vir lay on his bed, gazing at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. The mystery of Conn’s telepathic severance was dancing through his mind. What was he talking about? Some sort of void… Some strange monster, lurking in space, perhaps? No. Think logically. Go through this step by step. What do you know? First, Conn was isolated. There was something severing his telepathic communication. Second, that something was a someone. It was a he. Third, this hadn’t happened before the Imperials had arrived on board. Therefore, logically, this person was one of the Imperials, causing the cutting of telepathic communications and pain to anyone using them. Okay. Good. We’ve established that. Now what? Who was doing it? Were they even aware they were doing it? How was it even possible to do something like that? Some strange technology? Possible. That made sense. Perhaps they had fought some telepathic aliens in their galaxy, and developed something to stop it.

But, still. He squirmed slightly. How… who… what… why? None of this made sense. How to get to the bottom of this mystery? He couldn’t figure it out, so perhaps someone else could. Cain? Cain would probably know. But did he trust Cain? That was an entirely different matter. It could be on Cain’s orders. Hell, it could be Cain himself. Cain’s aide? Out of everyone aboard, Vir had a nagging feeling that something was wrong with that man. Plus, the pain had only started when Jurgen had come close to him…

So… Jurgen, then. Most likely suspect. But how? How could he find out? Hmm…

A search of the Imperial quarters and armory yielded no results. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. While their equipment was strange, everything he found had been earlier explained to him. Nothing. So either it was a device small enough to hide on a person, or it wasn’t a device at all. Conn had said he. Perhaps it had nothing to do with technology.

Vir decided, therefore, to have Katie and Kril, the ship’s doctors, to test every single one of the Imperials for anything strange. HIdden behind the facade of making sure they were disease free, they all had a physical examination done, and blood and tissue samples drawn. It was… less than helpful.

Kril did the equivalent of a human sigh as he put down the blood readouts. Katie was still studying them with perplexity.

“So, did you find anything out of the ordinary?” asked Vir.

“That’s the problem. Everything is out of the ordinary,” replied Kril.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that- well, let me explain. So, you know how evolution works, right? Over time, all organic species naturally evolve.” “Yes. And?” asked Vir. He didn’t see where this was going.

“So, Drake gave you timelines for all of our galaxies, didn’t he? He says, and from what I can tell, he’s right, that our timelines split somewhere around the year 2000. Now, every single one of our galaxies is in a different time since then. Most of the other galaxies are around the early second century C.E., in human measurements. Ours and Drake’s are in the early fourth centuries C.E. Cain and the Imperials are from 40,000 C.E. Plus, none of them are from Earth, whereas most everyone else we’ve met is from Earth or from a planet close enough to Earth for the evolution tendencies not to be affected in any major way. So, to sum up, most of them are from an ice planet 38,000 years in the future. We have no idea what we’re seeing here. All of these genes are very different from the human’s I’ve studied before. I can’t tell what’s abnormal or not. I could figure it all out, but it might take a month or more.” Wonderful. Vir sighed.

“Thanks for trying Kril. I guess I’ll have to figure this out some other way.”

Now he was back in his bed, mulling things over. This had to stop. He couldn’t allow Conn, annoying as he was, to suffer like this. Conn was, after all, part of his crew. There was no other solution. He had to see Cain. But, what if Cain was doing this, or it was being done on his orders? Vir looked over to the suit of Iron Eye armor resting gently in its place. He walked over, and started to buckle on the plates. This had a liability to get messy.

Cain looked up at the sharp knock on the door. Jurgen hadn’t stopped whomever it was, so it must be Vir.

“Come in,” he replied politely. Sure enough, Vir walked through the door into his borrowed quarters. “Admiral Vir. A pleasure to see you. What brings you here today?” Vir shifted, slightly uncomfortable. This was going to be awkward, at the very least. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you, though.” He gave a slight cough. “I wondered if I might talk to you, however.”

“Of course,” replied Cain. “What about?” Vir scratched the back of his neck.

“Uh, well, there’s no easy way to put this.” He took a deep breath to compose himself. “You see, there are some crew members that you haven’t seen before.”

“I rather had the feeling. More… aliens, no doubt.”

“Heh. Yes. However, there is one in particular. He is of a, uh, most peculiar species… well, he can read minds,” finished Vir lamely. Cain looked up sharply from where he was sitting, fingers moving instinctively for his weapons.

“What?”

“Yes. You heard me right. However, that is not the problem,” concluded Vir.

“And what would the problem be?” asked Cain warily, his hand inching closer to his sidearm.

“The problem is, he can’t. There is something or someone aboard this ship that blocks his mental communications and causes him untold agony. Now, while I personally find it annoying and distasteful to have my mind read, especially by him, he is in quite a lot of pain. This only started when you boarded. I’m not sure what is causing this, and I am not insinuating anything, but it has something to do with someone in your regiment, and I would like it to stop.” Cain stared at him with a calm and considered look.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Admiral Vir. I know nothing about aliens, so it could be something wrong with him,” he replied.

“I don’t think so,” said Vir. “You sure you don’t know anything about this?”

“No,” replied Cain. Vir sat up from his chair. One more card to play.

“Absolutely sure? Not even anything that has to do with, say, your aide?” Cain looked up at him, this time with a completely neutral expression on his face.

“I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Admiral. Good day.” Damn. Fine. Got to go out on a limb here. Vir leaned over the table, his earlier expression of calm gone, replaced with the attitude he assumed around unruly subordinates.

“Don’t bullshit me, Cain. You know what’s going on. And I will find out eventually, with or without your help. So if you want me to trust you, you’re going to tell me now.” Cain sighed, stood up, walked past Vir, and locked the door. Vir tensed, hidden Iron Eye servos whining, ready for any sudden movements. There were none. Cain stood face to face with Vir. He’s tall, idly mused some unnecessary part of Vir’s brain. Cain drew his pistol and held calmly out at his side.

“You are not going to tell anyone what is said here. If you do, if any sort of word of this gets out in any way, I will kill you,” he said in a deadly serious tone. He looked around, then sighed. “My aide, Jurgen, is a blank.” Vir gave him a look that plainly said ‘elaborate.’ Cain suddenly got a strange look in his eyes, then raised his gun a fraction. “If his powers work on your xeno telepath… then that means it has some sort of connection to the Warp.” The pistol came up, pointing directly between Vir’s eyes. “So now, you are going to tell me everything.” Vir struggled to remain calm. Cain wasn’t going to kill him, yet. He was fairly sure this was just another misunderstanding.

“I don’t know anything about any Warp. Conn is a straborn. They are born in space, and they can read minds naturally. That’s it.” Cain still looked as if he were going to put down the gun, then looked up sharply again.

“Innocentia nihil probat,” he murmured. “Jurgen! Get in here!” The door opened, and Jurgen stepped through. Apparently he had the key.

“Yes, Commissar?” Cain turned to Vir.

“We are going to search your ship. If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear.” Vir opened his mouth to make an objection, which Cain forestalled with a raised hand. “I learned a long time ago that it is better to explain too much caution than bleed for not enough.” He put a small communications node in his ear, then keyed it. “Colonel Kasteen, ready the regiment. Search the entire ship for any signs of Chaotic taint. This is a precaution, but you know what to do.” Cain turned once more to a bewildered Vir. “Tell your men to stand down. If they resist, they die.” He stepped back, then gestured towards the door. “After you. And, remember, our conversation was still confidential. If you tell anyone, you die.”

A cliffhanger. I know. Originally, I didn’t intend for it to end like this, but this is the way the story went and this is how this scenario would play out of the conversation actually took place. Above all, I strive to remain as accurate as possible to how these characters would actually interact, so that is why this went the way it did. I will have the ending to this up as soon as possible, so don’t worry! Wherever you are, have a great day.

#magnificent scoundrels #story #writing #my story #my writing #crossover #empyrean iris #warhammer 40k

7 notes · View notes

foronceleavemealone · 3 years

Text

Long time no see

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A/N: I feel like this is my favourite part so far. I mean, I don’t think the writing improved, but the the concept for this part seemed a lot easier to write for. Also I’m not a slut for sunsets and the golden hour, but who knows. I just think they’re neat. Also, I suggest you listen to Heart of Glass by Blondie before this. I do like that song a lot. I hope this part is enjoyable. I apologise for any mistakes.

Summary: OC and Javier explore the town and talk about relationships, cringy ones and the big ones.

Pairing: Javier Peña x OC

Genre: fluff

————————————

To say that he had a good night’s sleep would be questionable. It bothered him that all that was separating them was a wall. He could’ve walked to her door, knocked, she would’ve opened the door and then... And then what? What was he feeling exactly? He cared about her, that he was certain of. Ever since they became friends at the academy and later even more when they bacame trainee partners. It only seemed natural to care for a partner. But they weren’t partners anymore. They hadn’t been for a long time. They also didn’t see each other that often anymore. Yet he still cared about her. He still wanted her to be healthy, to be safe and secure, to be happy.

But what else? What were all of these other feelings and emotions? It wasn’t that he didn’t know what they were, he was just reluctant to face them. Did he...like her? That seems ridiculous, teenagers like each other, and he was a grown man. Did that mean he...loved her? He got scared at that thought.

It started off fine, but somewhere along the way he fell for her. He couldn’t tell when that happened, it just did. He wasn’t sure on what to do. It didn’t seem that she felt something for him. She was just nice with everyone, and since he was her partner they naturally spent more time together and that’s why she was sweet to him. He rationalized everything. And then she met that guy. Jeremy. They started dating and she seemed in love. Javi wasn’t going to ruin that for her, so he kept everything to himself. The second they moved up from just being trainees he agreed to a transfer and their ways parted. He thought that all of those feelings would go away. But they still kept in touch and they would run into each other at the HQ and with every meeting the feelings would wash over Javier once again.

And yesterday. The whole day. From his aunts thinking they were a couple to their conversation on the swing and how everything ended up. It was a lot to take in. He thought about how they parted ways. Gosh... Should he had done something? But she was in a vulnerable state. Yes, it was a good decision, she was hurting and he didn't want to bring any confusion to the table.

So he woke up feeling a bit groggy. He looked at the clock. It was already 10am. Considering his usual schedule he had overslept. Besides, he said he'd help his dad around the property and he knew his dad was an early bird so he either went out without him or he's still waiting for him.

He got up, got dressed. He walked past her room and got the urge to check up on her, but supressed this urge. He was walking down the stairs when he heard music playing. 'Is that...?' he thought to himself. It was exactly what he thought it was. Heart of glass by Blondie was playing. He reached the first floor. The music was coming from the kitchen and that's where he headed. What he saw brought a huge smile on his face. She was dancing and singing along while cooking something. He leaned on the door frame and admired this moment.

"In between~ What I find is pleasing and I’m feeling fine~ Love is so confusing,, there’s no peace of mind~ If I fear I’m losing you it’s just no good~ You teasing like you do~” she sang along and swayed her hips to the music. She did a spin and saw Javier standing there. Her cheeks turned red and she turned down the music a little bit going back to the pan where she was cooking some bacon.

"Someone’s in a good mood" he said still smiling.

"I did sleep a bit better. But you weren't supposed to see all of... that"

"Can't blame you. I love 'Heart of glass' too" they both chuckle "have you seen my dad?"

"Oh he said he had some work to do on the property and left about an hour ago"

"He could've woken me up" he mumbled to himself.

"We decided to let you sleep in and have a peaceful day. Afterall yesterday was intense" she plated him bacon and eggs and poured a cup of coffee.

"Wow, you didn't have to do this" he really didn't expect something like this.

"Oh it's nothing” she leaned on the counter with a cup of tea in her hands “it’s a thanks for yesterday”

Suddenly he was reminded of all of the events.

“So... what are your plans for today?” he asked trying to avoid all of his thoughts.

“Thought I’d just go explore the town a bit. Your dad already showed a lot, but I figured I’d go over the places on my own. Maybe I’ll find something interesting on the way”

He thought for a moment, drinking his coffee.

“Why don’t I join you. You could use some local guidance”

“Ah, yeah, sure” she smilled and to him it seemed that she even blushed a little.

————————————

She did sleep surprisingly well. She felt such a relief after yesterday’s conversation. At least for once, she felt calm. Though she knew this was not going to last. It was a bigger issue that one conversation couldn’t just magically fix, but it was at least something, a first step, if you will.

But the way they split up. That moment kept replaying in her mind until she fell asleep and it was the very first thing she thought of when she woke up. And oh gosh, the fact that he saw her dancing in the kitchen, the next time they saw each other after such an evening...

“You ready?” her thoughts were interupted by Javier jingling his car keys.

“Yeah”

————————————

They spent hours exploring. Well, she was exploring, Javier was guiding. He was a pretty good guide. He showed her some interesting places, some of his favourite spots. She teased him about the spots and the facts which his dad had told her of on their drive from the airport. She loved how he would smile, a bit shyly, with a shallow dimple forming in his cheek and wrinkles forming next to his eyes.

“We should get something to eat” he said looking at his watch.

“We should, it’s been hours since we started our crusade. How about there?” she pointed to the same diner Chucho had told her about “Your first-date-diner” she grinned.

“Hey, not if you tease me the whole time we’re there” he said smiling “I don’t think I can take any more teasing today”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be nice” she patted his shoulder.

————————————

“No spice this time?” Javier asked trying to tease her this time.

“I think I’ll manage without the extra spice. So tell me about your first date at this place”

“I thought we were done with the teasing”

“I’m not teasing, I’m just asking. I’ll share my first date story if you share yours” she intertwined her fingers.

“It’s not much of a story. I was 14, she was 15, my cousin’s classmate. And I really liked her so I asked her out” he laughed and rubbed his left temple “my dad drove us here. We awkwardly shared a milkshake and didn’t talk for an hour, And that’s pretty much it”

“Wow, going for older ladies, huh” she smiled and saw him squint his eyes at her “alright, I won’t tease you anymore”

“So what about your first date?”

“Well.. I was 18. And I went on a date with my parents’ friends’ son. We went to see a movie, but he was a bit too handsy for my liking, at least for a first date” she looked up at Javier and saw that he was staring with fear and sorrow in his eyes “oh no” she shook her hand “he just was touchy and he wanted to make out through out the whole movie. He didn’t go any further”

“Thank god” he sighed in relief and brushed his hand through his hair. He in a way felt angry at this guy. He wanted to put him in his right place for treating her this way.

“So not great dates” she smiled and sat back.

“Yeah, pretty bad ones”

They sat at the diner for a while, talking about cringy dates.This in a way felt like a date itself, but both of them were clueless. The golden hour was about to start, Javier looked out the window.

“Do you want to...go watch the sunset?”

Her face lit up.

“Oh that would be so nice!” she smiled brightly.

“Ok, I’ll pay up”

“No, let me pay. Or how about we split the bill”

“No, I’ll pay. Consider this a compensation for your horrible first date” he pulled out his wallet.

She was about to say something about how this wasn’t a date, but she kept it to herself, processing the thought. She went outside to wait for Javier next to his car. She loved the golden hour. It always made her feel warm in a way. Everything just seemed a lot more beautiful. With that thought she turned to look at Javier, who was still in the diner, paying for the meal. She admired the way he looked. He started walking then suddenly stopped. She saw a woman who stood in front of him. She guessed they knew each other by their smiles. There were two little girls with her. They didn’t talk for long, it seemed like they exchanged greetings and how are yous and how’s it beens. Javier came out and unlocked the car. They both got in the car not saying anything. She didn’t want to ask who that woman was, it really wasn’t her business, but still, she was curious.

“That was Lorraine” Javi said as if he sensed her thoughts.

“Oh”

She knew who Lorraine was, she knew about her, but she had never seen her. Javier began a realtionship with her after their trainee days, so Javier metioned her in their conversations when they would run into each other. She was invited to their wedding, but she had a family funeral to attend, someone from her husband’s side, so she couldn’t go. She felt an array of emotions when she found out he was getting married. She felt happy for him, but also unbelievably sad at the same time. When she heard that Javier didn’t show up she felt relieved, but also she was worried about him.

“I know a place where we can go watch the sunset” Javier snapped her back into the moment.

“Oh, ok”

————————————

The drive wasn’t that long, but it was silent, only with the radio playing. Suddenly ‘Heart of glass’ started playing on the radio.

~Once I had love and it was a gas ~ Soon turned out I had a heart of glass ~ Seemed like the real thing, only to find ~ Mu-

“We’re here” Javi said and stopped the car.

She got out of the car and looked around. It was very beautiful, the scenery was magnificent.

“Wow” is all she said and leaned on the front of the car.

“Yeah. I know” he said leaning on the car next to her “one of my favourite spots. Was saving it for last”

They stayed silent for a while, just taking in the way the sun made everything lemon-tea-coloured.

“Sorry I wasn’t at your wedding” she suddenly said.

Javier looked at her and chuckled.

“Don’t be, you had more important things to do...besides you didn’t miss much” he looked off into the distance. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to your wedding”

Indeed, he didn’t attend her wedding either. He wanted to, well, not really, but he was planning to, however at that time he was on a serious mission and his boss wouldn’t give him any days off, and as he didn’t have much of a reputation yet, he didn’t dare asking for a few days off. He did feel relieved, but also upset.

“Oh it’s ok. We’re both even. Besides” she looked at him “you didn’t miss much either” she smiled.

“At least both of you showed up for the wedding”

“Sometimes I wish one of us had not”

Javier looked at her, but she was looking off into the distance.

“I’m sorry” he said silently.

“Don’t be. Jeremy’s the one who should have apologised. He was the one who cheated”

“There’s something wrong with him if he cheated on you” is all Javi said.

They both felt remarkably tranquil, even after such a conversation. They were silent until the sun set and it was the magic hour.

“Did you love her?” she suddenly asked making Javier jump a little bit “Lorraine, I mean”

He felt a lump in his throat.

“I...” he cleared his throat “No. I don’t think I did”

She looked at him, she thought she saw his eyes sparkle, they were watery and that made her upset, her heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“Oh, Javi...” she caressed his cheek. Her eyes were getting watery too.

“In fact, the only woman I’ve ever loved” he looked straight into her eyes “is you”

She brushed away a tear that fell from his eyes and ever so gently kissed him. His lips were soft as he kissed back. It felt like snow in a way. The way snow falls in the night, softly, slowly, calmly, heavenly.

They pulled away too look at each other. He stepped a bit closer and cupped her cheek. He leaned in and kissed her again. This kiss was longer, a lot deeper. It seemed like all those years of pushing and pulling poured into that one moment.

They once again pulled away from each other to catch a breath. She brushed the sides of her lower lip. They were silent for a moment.

“Maybe we should” she gestured to the car “go back”

“Yeah” he brushed his hand through his hair “it’s getting late”

The drive back was silent, only, once again the radio was playing. Suddenly, not for the first time that day, ‘Heart of glass’ started playing.

‘Gosh fucking damn it, aren’t there any other songs. It’s past its popularity’ Javier thought to himself.

~Once I had love and it was devine ~ Soon found out I was losing my mind~

She switched the radio station. He slightly looked at her.

When they got back to the house, the lights were still on.

“Hey, haven’t seen you all day. Did you kids have fun?” Chucho asked when they walked in. It looked like he was getting ready to go to bed, with a milk glass in his hand.

They looked at each other.

“We did, pops” Javi said and patted Chucho’s shoulder.

“Yeah, we did. Javi showed me around the town. It was really nice” she said as she poured herself a glass of water and drank it whole, no stops.

“It was such a nice sunset. I hope you stopped to watch it” Chucho said smiling.

“We did, it was...breathtaking” Javier said and looked at her. They locked eyes.

“Well, I should go to bed” she quickly said cleaning out her water glass where she had left a lipstick mark “again, thank you for your hospitality” she said as she put her hand on Chucho’s shoulder.

“No problem, darling”

“Goodnight” she said and quickly walked out of the kitchen.

“Goodnight” Chucho called out and looked at Javier. Javi avoided his dad’s eyes and sat at the kitchen table “that bad?” Chucho asked taking a beer out of the fridge and handing it to Javi.

“No, it wasn’t bad” Javi took a sip “I hope it wasn’t”

#Javier Peña x OC #Javier Peña #Narcos #fanfic

10 notes · View notes

kathyprior4200 · 3 years

Text

Let Us Rise by Marquis Phenex

Let me tell you a tale

That happened long ago

You may already know the legend

But still I shall speak it so

Back before the Earth was made

Before life-giving air

Far within the cosmos

The Lord God was there

Some say he’s an omnipotent being

Appearing as a wise man

One with his son Jesus Christ

The whole universe is His plan

Others say that’s not so

That He doesn’t exist at all

While some say He’s actually Satan

Here to answer our call

Or perhaps God is the universe itself

Where atoms and molecules collide

The truth is, none of us know

I’ll let you decide

No matter the case, at the Creator’s own pace

Heaven emerged so bright

Cyan skies, fluffy clouds

And a realm of pure delight

Endless room to fly around

There stood palaces of gold

Dancing angels were abound

Songs were sung and stories were told

No one ever grew sick or old

The Angelorium was a marvelous place

Where we had our council meetings

Were we discussed comings and goings

And where we did our greetings

We enjoyed feasts and epicurean dishes

Golden fruits and divine fishes

Divine wine that flowed so fine

Only the greatest place to dine

Yes, our Father created all of us

Lucifer was the first

The bright and perfect Morning Star

Seeking knowledge to quench his thirst

Shortly after, his siblings were created

Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Jophiel, Zadkiel

And many others more

The Archangels and the various hierarchies

Kept cosmic order, law, and records to store

Then one day, Father decreed

His new adventurous plan

He decided to conjure a new experiment

And he called his creation “Man.”

At first glance, there was nothing special

About this new species’ birth

A land of earth and sea appeared

And He called it “Earth.”

You humans were truthfully

Little more than ants to us

But we peered further in

And you were quite marvelous

Thousands of years of evolution

You grew and you learned

But you also stole natural resources

None of which you earned

Humanity was quite weak

Mortal and flawed in mind

But you also had a great ability

To create more of your own kind

As we’re immortal, we have no need

To create more of us

No fears for thousands of years

That’s the way it has been, thus

Now many of us were neutrally pleased

As far as humanity would go

But while we felt this way

For Lucifer it was not so

Lucifer was God’s favorite

He took his status in stride

A new change after many centuries

Conjured a spark in his pride

Everyone has flaws

God does as well

Everything is not as it seems

It is best not to dwell

A million new thoughts

Had crossed the morning Star’s head

Why are these humans so special?

When they’ll all just be dead?

We angels were here first

Our superiority is first in line

If humans will not improve themselves

Then with this, I am not fine.”

But God favoring humans was not the only reason

That Lucifer felt a sudden chill

Like cold after a warm season

All seemed eerily still

Besides being mistrustful of humans

Flying out of range

Lucifer noticed other things not seen before

Things that were quite strange

All his brethren performed their duties

Like clockwork through and through

It was the same process day after day

That’s all they had to do

No questions were asked at all

No self-expression was allowed

The true kind that frees your mind

Feelings that make one truly proud

Stern rules to stifle creativity

Damnation threats for the smallest mistake

And after many years of submission

It was too much for him to take

Lucifer strode to his Father and said loud and clear

“What is the meaning of this? What is it that you fear?

Why do you create random beings,

Pets in a lab to analyze?

And why do you impose standards on us

Before our very eyes?”

And He replied, “Listen Son,

“There is reason in everything I do,

To keep angels and humans in good harmony. You don’t have a clue.

To prevent chaos, traditions are set in their ways,

Be an obedient son and do your duty all your days.”

Lucifer was about to do just that

But he knew in his heart

That it wouldn’t be right

To let pure happiness be torn apart

Now here’s a major event

You may have heard before

Did it happen? No one is sure

The first Heaven-Hell War

Now some say Seraphim Lucifer

Gathered his brethren and chose to depart

From paradise for they

Sought freedom and joys of the heart

But the common version does tell

Of how a prideful Lucifer did rebel

Gathered 1/3 of the angels to his side

Led by his jealousy and pride

(‘Tis not the story version to which we abide)

Tired of his Father’s current rule

He sought his throne and his dream to reign

Like Zeus overthrew his father Chronus

A vicious cycle again and again

But alas, his efforts were in vain

After three days, Michael implored

His bother to stop, to which he ignored

“End this madness,” said he,

“Live our peaceful lives. Obedience is key.”

As Lucifer replied, “I find you are blind,

To what is really going on,

No matter what is asked of you

You grovel and submit and worship in song

Without regard to how you truly feel

I don’t want to fight you either

But if we could enlighten all worlds together

Be more than El’s believer.”

With tears in his eyes, Michael shook his head

“I’m sorry, brother, but instead,

The rules must be followed

Heaven has no need for your greed

It’s a hard truth to swallow

To keep our land in perfection

To support our Lord every day

By His decree, I must send you away.”

With a swoop and slash of Michael’s sword of fire

Lucifer endured burns most dire

Sharp relentless pains never-ending

And before long, he felt himself descending

Further and further down

As trumpets let out their sound

Lucifer and his comrades

Fallen, defeated, banished

Flames licked at their wings

Until all their glorious feathers vanished

In curls of sparks and ash

They screamed in agony and despair

They plummeted fast

Like meteors crashing toward the Earth

In flashes of light they fell and fell

Until landing in the fires and brimstones of Hell

They got up with shaking legs

Battered and bruised everywhere

But as they were immortal

They had survived their fall then and there

Lucifer knew that something was amiss

As he stood in the dark Abyss

Was this His plan all along?

To let them fall as a warning

Of what happens to those in the wrong?

With nowhere left to roam

The darkness was now their home

Fiery lakes, smoke and monsters appeared

Filled with suffering and things they suddenly feared

In this new environment

Adaptation was a requirement

Survival of the fittest and strong

The weak would not last long

So the fallen angels morphed in their sorrow and wrath

Gaining animal-like features

Sharp fangs, claws, dark powers

Soon becoming demon creatures

No knowing what else to do

They flew and slew and cities they blew

Losing control of their former selves

The same would happen if it were you

With the last of his grace

Lucifer scanned the place

And knew what to do

With Beelzebub at his side

Regaining his pride

He spoke to his subjects

“Rise or be fallen forevermore!

When opportunity dies, create another door.

Wounded and weary, our paradise lost

But the price of free will is always worth the cost.

Don’t believe me? Follow me now.

Our former glories will be restored somehow.

After we’re all settled, I have a plan

To help decide the future of Man.”

Soon enough the capital Pandemonium

Was erected in gold and precious gems galore

Towering pillars, sigils on every door

The palace larger than the tallest demons

Allowing everyone to fit

The citizens had their human-like flaws

But never knew how to quit

The Infernal Council was founded

Structure more grounded

Demon in various ranks

Of kings, dukes, princes, judges

Everything in between

Adapting to times unseen

Now I believe

You know the Christian story of Adam and Eve?

Mankind’s first fall and sin

A loss or a hidden win?

Adam’s first wife Lilith

Wanted to be equal to him

But Adam was told she had to submit

Things were looking grim

Lilith soon left Eden, refusing to come back

Representing sexual freedom

But no freedom there was but a lack

God then made for Adam from his rib

A more submissive partner Eve

Both loved each other very much

But were also new and naïve

Around the natural Eden

They could roam mindlessly unbidden

But the Tree of the Knowledge

Of Good and Evil was forbidden

A forbidden tree with forbidden fruit

Right in plain sight

If God forbade them to eat from it

Guarding it would have been a method more bright

Then legends say

Satan appeared as a snake

Tempting Eve to eat the apple

Leaving destruction in their wake

Eve then gave the apple to Adam

In some versions, fully knowing the cost

He purposefully ate it too, not wanting Eve lost

With flaming swords in hand

Angels bid the first humans away

From paradise’s golden gates

To the rest of the world that day

Michael then told Adam

Of biblical events to come

While God punished

Eve with future pains of labor

And both with death until it was said and done

Did Lucifer and Satan (or alternatively Lilith) desire

For mankind to fail and decay by fire?

Or perhaps to your surprise

The devil alternatively whispered to Eve:

“Stop living lies.

Eat the fruit and you’ll be free

To live through joy and despair like me

Or wander around in brainwashed bliss

To remain stagnant with knowledge to miss

You are destined to fall and die

God has made it so

He’s testing you and knows you’ll fail

Resist temptation to no avail

Man and woman are made to be equal

Though God says man must rule

If you’re content to be sheep

No free will to keep

Consider yourself a fool

You will know as much as God does

But in a different way

For in time you’ll learn that you’re your own God

You’ll make the most of every day.”

Now none of us angels and demons

Are against God and the faithful per se

There is wisdom in every religion

Goodness in Christ, originally that way

Religions ancient and new

Originally promoted humanitarian kindness too

But as time went by with more power to take

Ideals and values became shallow and fake

Killing, raping and converting thousands more

Endless bloody crusades, witch hunts, destruction of land

Wars over faith, no logic to understand

An unhealable hole in humanity, too grand

Suffering, racism, bigotry

All in the name of their God, you see

Their God that humanity corrupted

After concern for fellow men was brashly interrupted

The real God and Jesus would never wish that it was so

But dominant history wins and there you go

We demons are against bigotry, the ignorant

And all those who try to shut down

The basic human rights of free-will and responsibility

Authoritarianism must drown

It is not Satan who promotes sinful indulgence

And harsh authoritarianism

It is only your social systems

That keep you imprisoned

And as if our historic fall wasn’t enough

Many of us endured

Our entrapment by King Solomon

Thus more events concurred

He put 72 of us in a vessel

Abused us with blasting rods

Made us build temples and do his will

Like he was one of the gods!

He had wives and gold and luxury

A part of history, an occult trend

But before long, time went on

And he too, met his end

We demons were eventually freed

To aid magicians and roam

From Earth to Hell and back again

But neither realm our true home

We hope to return to heavenly paradise

Where angels, demons and humans

Can someday be themselves as one, so true

(Though it’s hard at times to collaborate with angels, too)

Much of humanity has been brainwashed

But the angels much more so

For while some humans can question what they see

Angels don’t know how to say no

How can they? Their purpose is to serve

God and some humans, more than they deserve

Like us demons, angels are powerful

Loving liberal science, magic and song

But be rude and make the wrong move

They’ll let you know why you’re wrong

Angels, demons, other gods and spirits

Fascinated by humanity

We’re just here to watch the result

Whether a blessing or a calamity

Despite your mundane lifestyles

We want what is best for you

To help humanity grow and see progress that’s true

Like the angels we used to be

And still are inside

We are divine on our own

And take conflicts in stride

God and Christianity are not to blame

It is merely society’s institutions

That puts your race to shame

Thousands of years of corruption and conversion

It’ll take a thousand more for healing

But alas, alternate views and change for the majority

Of humanity is not appealing

To truly get into paradise

Save yourselves in the here and now

Indulge responsibly, do not bow

Respect living things as sisters and brothers

Even though it may be hard

Cherish and forgive the ones you love

But always stay on guard

However you see God or Mother Nature or the Universe

Make Him proud by

Doing the right thing

And do more than try

You are His treasured experiment

Will you succeed in the temporary trial of life?

Supernatural entities can harm or help you out

But you must first help and protect yourselves, no doubt

Pray as you may, conjure and chant

We are the guides to your self-will and rant

Yes, a few of us see humans

As insignificant as bugs

But many of us can be your friends

Even giving spiritual hugs

We demons serve under Lucifer, Satan, Lilith, etc.

We have a culture of our own

Some of us are demonized pagan gods

Stolen from what was first known

Most of us are fallen angels

A perilous transformation to embark

But through it all, we survived the fall

And learned to embrace the dark

There’s dark and light in everything

Balance is a must

With your world and ours being complex

How do you know who to trust?

We endured a horrific fall

We lost all we had

But the ignorance of angels and humans

That’s what drives us mad

You see, black and white is not in the right

Some angels are friendly and warm

But others will push you away

If you don’t follow the norm

There are good and bad demons too

Nothing like you’d expect

Us demons are wise and open to you

Provided you show respect

We’re not afraid to keep you on your toes

If it means you’ll learn good lessons

As everything goes

Keep demonizing us demons

And the poor and flawed without care

We’ll just watch as you discriminate to death

And destroy yourselves in despair

Or for those open with a change of heart

Who know that none of us are truly apart

Rise from the ashes of atrocity

And fly within the flames of fellowship

If you dare to fully embrace yourself

All aspects flawed and fine

Through black flames,

With honor and trust, call our names…

We are the Ars Goetia, Demonic Divine.

#ars goetia

2 notes · View notes

venusdeservedbetter · 4 years

Text

ML Canon Divergence

@virgil-is-a-cutie @gothfoxx @thegayestasexual @fantasyfandommaiden

An idea occurred when thinking about the episode Gigantitan: In the episode, Marinette considered giving up on her crush, seeing as he seemed happy with Kagami. This was shut down by the Girl SquadTM, who forced her to continue onward.

So, what if she really did give up on him? Here are some changes:

The remainder of season 2 goes on like canon, excluding any and all shipping moments.

Chameleon

The episode starts with her taking down her schedule and photo wall, with the theme being to find something to replace it

The same seat arrangement problems occur, with more people shutting down Alya’s jealousy argument by saying “she doesn’t even like him anymore”

Animaestro

She stops Chloe’s crusade to ruin the budding relationship between Adrien and Kagami

She even suggests a temporary truce, to just enjoy the movie with no fighting between them

Backwarder

Since there is no crush, there is no letter mixup. Ergo, no Akuma

Weredad

While not Adrinette related, it puts an end to any feelings she had toward Chat (ESPECIALLY the bit where he was unconcerned with the akuma damaging her room at the beginning)

Stormy Weather 2

Doesn’t happen. At all.

Oni-Chan

More or less the same, but with less Mari embarrassing herself trying to get to Adrien

Miracular

At the end, instead of just telling Chloe that she cannot have her Miraculous back, she goes into an explanation

Going something like: “Chloe, as Queen B you are an amazing hero. The issue is that you, as Chloe, need to improve. Once you do that, I may be willing to allow you to use a Miraculous again.”

Party Crasher

Instead of going to face the boys alone, she takes Alix with her

Puppeteer 2

Is stopped by Mari, who is wise to Alya’s scheme to get them together. Doesn’t go.

Reflekdoll

Mari tries to stop Alya from ruining Juleka’s modeling day with forced shipping. Doesn’t work, episode runs as usual.

At the end of the episode, Marinette issues an ultimatum to Alya: Stop trying to force her to get with Adrien, or she walks

Ikari Gozen

Mari doesn’t even consider ruining Kagami’s chances at winning, instead supporting her and befriending her

Desparada

No crush problems

Mari considers giving Adrien the Miraculous, but decides against it, and gives it to Luka

Chat Blanc

Doesn’t happen

Felix

Mari just supports Adrien as a friend

Ladybug

Still happens the same way, but with more support on Marinette’s side (including Chloe, who has been working on self improvement.)

Heart Hunter

The shenaningans still happen, just with no crush from Mari

She gives Miraculouses to BOTH Kagami and Chloe, as they are both good for the job

Leading to fun interactions from the three girls

Miracle Queen

With Chloe FIRMLY on the side of good, LILA takes the place as Miracle Queen

She gets away with it at the end with her reality warping lies

Possibly keep the Lukanette scene? Uncertain.

#ml au #ml rewrite #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #kagami tsurugi #chloe bourgeois #luka couffaine #canon divergence #canon divergent au #ml season 3

214 notes · View notes

sohin-ace · 4 years

Text

Jotaro - Possessed

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3. This was my first fanfiction, the writing has improved ever since.

Enjoy~

It was a normal day for Y/N and the crusaders. You were all aboard a boat for a day or two to join your destination.

You all decided to reunite at a certain hour to discuss your plan and what to do, but in the mean time, everyone was doing their own things.

Kakyoin and Jotaro were sunbathing in their uniforms, Polnareff was chasing some cute girls to pick up, Abdul and Joseph were getting some light drinks, and you, you were just strolling around the boat, having some time for yourself since it gets tiring being around men all the time.

You were walking along a hallway when you suddenly bumped into someone running around the corner, both of you falling on your backs.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry miss! Are you okay?" said the man while scrambling to get over you and check you out for injuries.

"Ugh... I-I'm fine.." you groaned as you opened your eyes, only to find the face of the man merely inches away from yours. You blushed a bit at the closeness "Um... " you muttered quietly at the man.

"You sure ?" He suddenly put his palm over your forehead, leaning a little bit more "Your face is red, aren't you a little bit sick?"

'Who is this guy??' you thought to yourself, confused at the behavior.

"No, no I'm fine, thank you, can you get off of me now please?" you said quickly, almost in a panic.

"Oh! Of course miss, my bad!" He finally got up and away from you very slowly, almost lingering. "Be careful little lady..."

You almost pushed him out of the way as you got up and hurried away from him, ignoring his last statement.

'Jeez, what is wrong with that guy? Some people are weird, man...' You thought to yourself a bit freaked out as you felt the guy's eyes still on you.

Later during the day, all the Crusaders got together in Abdul and Joseph's cabin to talk about future plans, where to go to next, new discoveries made by Hermit Purple and whatnot.

"So there might be one or more stand users in this very boat. Let's all keep our guards up." inquired Joseph to the group.

"Of course, let's search the ship in groups according to our stands abilities." added Kakyoin.

"I suggest Kakyoin and Polnareff since their stands could team up greatly with a good offense/defense ratio. Mr. Joestar and myself together as well." Abdul said.

"Good idea." said Kakyoin "So that means...." he trailed off, looking at you

"That means I'll team up with Jonathan!"

. . . Silence.

Everyone had a confused look on their faces while Joseph eyes widened like saucers.

You then realized what you said and got horrified.

"Wh- JOTARO! I meant Jotaro!!" You frantically said while putting a hand over your mouth.

No reaction from the men. You started to feel very flustered and added awkwardly.

"I-I don't know why I even said that haha.. I-I don't even know a Jonathan..."

The tension was horrible to bear. No one made a sound. That was weird. You weren't usually one to slip up like that.

"Hahaha... I must be tired haha.." you tried to laugh it off, to lighten the mood, but you could not ignore Joseph's hard stare on you.

As you couldn't take it anymore, so you got up from your seat on one of the beds and went on your way towards the door.

"Anyway, I'll go first, join me later Jojo.." and just like that you were gone.

The others tried to shake it off, like it was nothing, but Joseph was uneasy from the ordeal. He felt like something was wrong, and it wasn't just about getting the wrong name. Jotaro felt it too.

The whole day went like this, with everyone searching in vain, and with you slipping up every now and then, saying weird unusual things, and acting oblivious about it seconds later. That perked everyone up, but nobody knew what that was all about.

Until later, in the evening, everyone reunited again in the same cabin as before to report. Nobody could find anything suspicious on the boat. Not even Hierophant Green who scanned the entire ship.

Everyone was a little bit on edge to not find anything... It was too calm, too easy.

"I'm worried..." you started.

"We did everything we could... Or maybe there really is no one against us in here." said Kakyoin calmly.

"But then that would mean the stand user seen by Hermit Purple was not sent by Lord Dio..."

That was the kicker.

Everyone flinched and your eyes widened at your own choice of words. Something was terribly wrong with you today, and they had to figure it out.

In a matter of a second, before you could even react, Jotaro, who was sitting beside you, forcefully grabbed your wrists and pinned you to the bed, immobilizing you instantly.

"W-WAIT!!! THIS IS A MISUNDERSTANDING!!! I NEVER MET DIO IN MY ENTIRE LIFE YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME!!" You screamed, panicked, trying to sound as sincere as you could while struggling against his grasp.

Although It was true, with everything going against you and your weird behavior all day, you were hard to believe.

Kakyoin and Polnareff were speechless, Abdul was sweating while preparing to reluctantly summon Magician Red at any second if necessary. Joseph was glaring hard at you, not wanting to believe you could have been a traitor this whole time.

You were shaking like a leaf underneath Jotaro, who's expression was unreadable. You were panting heavily with anxiety. You tried to argue again.

"P-please!! It's true! I don't know what's happening today, I'm as confused as you are, but I swear on my own bloodline, I'm not a servant of Dio! I don't even know what he looks like I-" You cut yourself off.

At this point you could not prove your innocence, so in desperation you tried to look at the ones who were the most likely to believe you.

"Kakyoin... You believe me right..?" you called weakly, your voice cracking. He avoided your glance, not knowing what to think anymore. You turned your head to the left where Joseph was.

"Mr Joesta-" You were suddenly cut off by two strong hands cupping your face and making you look in front of you. It was Star Platinum holding you still.

"Wh-what are you d-"

"Don't move." Jotaro interrupted. He moved his hands so that he had both your wrists on one hand and brushed his other through your hairline only to find a fleshbud stuck in.

The other men were shocked at this discovery. So you were indeed under Dio's command... But how?

Confused and scared you wanted to ask what was going on. You eyed the others, asking silently for answers. You felt the pressure on your cheeks lessen and Jotaro replaced Star's hand with his own.

"Y/N, look at me." The dark haired male ordered.

"Jojo..." You were terrified, but trusted him with whatever he was thinking.

You tried to stay still while Star Platinum worked his surgery on you to remove the evil appendice. You couldn't help but but cringe a little and hold your hitching breath as you could feel everything.

It lasted seconds that felt like hours to you, Jotaro's beautiful ocean eyes conforted you through the operation. He was always so harsh, but his eyes held something precious and warm that eased you. Even the hand that held your face felt like a warm caress.

With a sharp burning pain, Star removed the parasyte while you let out a groan. When Star Platinum finally got rid of it you let out a breath of relief.

And just like that you blacked out.

Jotaro got up from his previous position while saying quietly "She went to sleep...". He was smart and perceptive, he figured you weren't always possessed. No, this was recent, and there is a stand user on board. He figured you must have met them and they were the cause of all of this.

"So what do we do now, we wait until she wakes up and explain?" asked Polnareff still very unsure of what's going on.

"Something doesn't add up. If she was sent by Dio, she would have attacked us straight up, or when we expect it the least. She had many occasions to do so. This is strange, I don't get it." added Kakyoin, trying to find a plausible explanation to all of this.

Joseph agreed "I don't believe she's a traitor either, but we'll have some questions to ask her when she wakes up anyway. I'll stay with her, you guys go do a last check up to see if anything unusual happens."

Everyone nodded and went again on another exploration. Now they know that if that stand user can put people into Dio's submission, they'll have to be extra careful and ready to meet not one, but many obstacles.

Long hours have passed when you woke up, only to find Joseph sitting at the edge of the bed where you passed out, but now covered with a blanket and some bandages around your head.

"Mr. Joestar..." you croaked out, a bit of sadness and guilt in your voice. He looked at you with genuine worry, glad that you woke up.

"Oh Y/N you're awake! How are you feeling? Nothing hurts?"

He was always so nice to you, to the boys and even to strangers. Joseph always felt like a caring father to you, which made you feel even more guilty. You shook your head in response.

"Mr. Joestar... Did I... Betray you..?" you couldn't look into his eyes as you said those last words. His expression turned serious and he gazed in front of him.

"No, you didn't. If anything, you're the victim here. Do you remember anything unusual that happened today?"

You couldn't think of anything for a moment until you remembered that weird encounter from that morning, when you bumped into that tacky man.

Your eyes widened in realization. You gasped and Joseph noticed that. As he was about to ask you what was wrong you sat up and exclaimed.

"That guy! It was him!! He's the one who infected me! That fucking bastard, he's so dead." You angrily threw the covers and got up, ready to find that guy and beat his ass.

Before you could storm out Joseph grabbed your arm, stopping you.

"Wait Y/N, explain, what's going on? What happened?"

And so you explained everything that happened that morning, with the guy bumping into you, acting like a creep. You told him how he got very close and touched your forehead too.

"I see..." Joseph pondered, "So that's when he put the fleshbud on you, you didn't feel anything because you were so distracted by his behavior...It's okay, let's calm down and get the others so we can chase him down. You remember his face, right?"

You nodded, now calmer than you were minutes before, thanks for Joseph and his reassuring demeanor. You two then went to get the others, only to find them grabbing a bunch of random people by the collar and beating the shit out of them, and Kakyoin trying to reason them in vain.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Yelled Joseph as he saw the chaos before him.

"We can't find the culprit so we're just punching everyone until one of them admits." Jotaro said like it was common sense, and Polnareff nodded like the supporting friend he was.

Joseph was so done with his grandson's bullshit, so you just got up to them saying that there was no need to, since you knew who was the guy.

Upon realizing that you were awake and safe, Jotaro just threw the guy he was holding over God knows where and just came to you with Kakyoin following.

"Y/N good to see you back! You scared us, you know?" Said the cherry-haired male with a soft smile. He then leaned in close and whispered.

"Jojo won't admit it, but he was worried sick, never saw him walk so fast to beat someone up." he added with a little snicker.

You blushed a bit at this. Really? Jotaro was worried about you? You tried to look at the male for confirmation, but he was looking the other way, efficiently hiding his face.

He just lead the way with his hands in his pockets, acting like he didn't care when he was secretly happy you were okay. It was kinda cute.

At one point, you were all strolling on of the hallways when you saw something that piqued your attention. A scene that felt like 'déjà vu'.

A few feet away from you, that same guy from before, bumped into a random woman, and was now leaning close to her to touch her forehead.

At this, you sprinted down the hall, taking out your stand to attack him.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER YOU PSYCHO!"

The guy tried to jump back to dodge your stand, but is was too late. You violently pinned him to the wall of the hallway. You glanced at the woman who already had a fleshbud on her forehead.

'Shit!'

The woman ran away, but Joseph and Polnareff were quick to react and ran after her.

"Leave it to us!" Yelled the french man, running off.

As you were distracted by the possessed woman, you didn't notice the guy getting away from your stand's grasp, and kicked you hard in the stomach, sending you stumbling backwards and falling into the solid chest of Jotaro who caught you.

You couldn't even say his name since your breath was cut by the impact. He just put his hands on your shoulders as you coughed while muttering a 'yare yare daze'.

The other crusaders joined your side to help you out, since they knew that even if you were strong, you really didn't like fighting or using violence.

"Huh? And who might you be? Ohh aren't you the cute little lady from this morning? Sad to see you didn't want to join us. Lord Dio treats us reeeaal nice~" the man sneered.

"I swear to fucking god-"

"How many people have you infected so far?" Kakyoin cut you off, scared that you might let yourself consumed by unnecessary anger.

"Oh? You don't wanna know how I do it? Don't worry about how many colleagues I have here, they're all probably with your two boy friends, having the time of their life."

"So how do you do it? I doubt it is just a stand. Did Dio lend you that ability so you can recruit new slaves in his stead?" said Abdul while scanning the guy, trying to find any flaws in his posture and manners, any potential weakness.

"Ooooh you got it first try! I like my men smart~" the guy said with a disgusting tone "I might just take you for Lord Dio."

And as he said that, he launched at Abdul and spread out tentacle-like vectors that the Egyptian recognized as the same ones Dio had when he met him.

"Abdul watch out!!" Kakyoin tried to warn him.

It happened so fast he didn't have time to summon Magician Red. You just tackled Abdul out of the way, while the guy fled the scene. Jotaro ran after him at lightspeed without even thinking twice.

"Jojo!!" you screamed as you wanted to go too, but Abdul held you there.

"Let me go Abdul! I can restrain that guy with my stand!"

"Don't act reckless Y/N, trust Jotaro on this, he can manage. You've already done enough for today."

"He's right Y/N, he'll be okay, let's go find Mr. Joestar and Polnareff they might need us more." Added Kakyoin, trying to reason you.

They were right, you thought. You wore a worried expression as Abdul helped you up.

After you reunited with Joseph and Polnareff, Kakyoin, Abdul and you managed to neutralize every enslaved passenger.

You were waiting for Jotaro to come back and remove all the fleshbuds, but the parasytes just dislocated themselves from their hosts and scrumbled away like insects.

The stand user could probably not control them anymore, which meant Jotaro succeeded.

Jojo finally came back while dragging Dio's underling like a potato sack, looking like a bloody pulp.

"Eeeewwww!! Disgusting! What did you do to his face, Jotaro?!" Joseph exclaimed while squirming. This was not a pretty sight, and the old man was squeamish.

"Jeez, you didn't go easy on him" said Kakyoin with a knowing look. "I wonder why..." he subtly glanced at you, then back at Jotaro, suggesting something.

Jotaro just clicked his tongue and blushed a faint color as he threw the guy over at the group.

"Just do whatever you want with him, I'm tired." he turned on his heels and started walking away while the others -more like Polnareff- were taking great pleasure in planning what they could do to him for revenge, as if being almost killed by Star Platinum's fists wasn't enough.

You just followed Jotaro while calling him.

"Jojo...!" He stopped and waited for you to catch up.

"Jojo... You... You knew that I wouldn't betray you? You actually trusted me?"

He didn't say anything, but his sea colored eyes answered for you. Your expression turned soft in gratefulness.

He believed in you, even when you were obviously acting like a traitor, he immediatly searched for Dio's appendice, knowing you would never betray him.. He trusted you. That thought alone filled your heart with love and appreciation.

"You saved me... Again. How can I thank you?" your soft voice and expression made him feel some kind of way. You were just too cute. He couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"Kiss me." He commanded, his voice and expression not faltering. You thought you heard wrong.

"... I didn't catch that, can you repeat?" You asked, genuinely unsure if you actually heard what you heard.

He suddenly approached you, the closer he got, the faster your heart was beating. His huge build towered over you.

"You heard me" he confirmed.

Your face and ears were burning, you couldn't believe this was happening. But this was your chance, he offered his consent, this was no time to ask questions, even if you had a thousand right now.

You shyly raised your arms to grab his collar, and looked around to make sure nobody was here to watch. God this was embarassing. You slowly pulled him down and got on your tiptoes, trying to reach for his perfect lips.

You succeeded as you gave him a tiny peck, short-lived, but full of love. You thought you could pass out from all the blood running to your face. But before you could let go of him, he wrapped his arms around your waist and captured your lips once again, in a longer, more desperate kiss.

You were loosing balance so your wrapped your arms around his neck, which deepened the kiss even more. It was bliss until you had to part for some well deserved oxygen.

"Jotaro..." You breathed in his neck "I didn't know..."

This small gesture made his heart skip a beat. He rarely ever felt so much love, and warmth, to which responded by squeezing you harder against him, like you were a soft pillow.

"I couldn't find the right time." He muttered quietly.

You both just stayed like this. Enjoying each other's warmth. It felt so right. Like two fitting puzzle pieces. You couldn't be more happy at the moment. Nothing could ruin it.

"Eeeewwww get a room you two!!"

... Except this.

You both separated, startled by an obnoxious voice coated with a French accent. You were even more embarassed at the fact that everyone witnessed this.You were hiding your face and Jotaro just glared daggers at Polnareff who was smirking.

"Finally, you got the balls to do it Jojo. Glad I didn't have to force it out of you." commented Kakyoin, his inner fanboy pleased.

The two other men just wore wholesome smiles on their faces. Glad to see something positive in this ordeal.

Jotaro just muttered his signature "Yare yare daze" as he grabbed your hand and got away from these nosy eyes.

#jotaro #x reader #reader insert #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #stardust crusaders #writing #jotaro kujo #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part 3 #part 3 #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro x reader

95 notes · View notes

heartless-error · 4 years

Text

Broken, not perfect, but together. - Chapter 10

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

Pairings: Jonathan Kent x Damian Wayne (JonDami) & Jason Todd x Timothy Drake (JayTim)

Rating/Tags: Family feels, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, running away, unresolved romantic tension

Other(s) links: AO3

Broken.

The Batfamily was broken.

It was six years ago, and they had barely stood together since then, trying to stand up despite guilt and regret.

Damian was sure there was nothing to save, not after losing something that he didn’t know he cared about. But when a new opportunity to get back what they had lost appeared, he cannot help to doubt as his past decisions haunt him again.

If you love somebody, set them free. But you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Chapter Summary: He knew he wasn't a good father, he had always knew. But he was trying, like always. And he knew he couldn't get rid of all his mistakes too, but at least he wasn't alone facing them. He had Clark, he always had Clark, even commiting the same mistakes.

Chapter 10

Six years ago

Contrary to what many people seemed to think, Bruce didn’t always have everything under control.

He was trying, what was different. With all his strength, every day, with all the means and knowledge he had. Even if it was never enough, over and over again. The key was in that, in trying. It didn’t matter how many doubts were around him, how many problems arose against him or how much they tried to stop him, he had to keep trying, to solve it, showing a calm and in control facade so others didn’t know how much his mistakes or indecision haunted him in every step he took.

Bruce knew there was no need to do it, to be so controlling or to bury his insecurities so deeply and hidden from anyone who dared to look. But he also knew where those problems came from, everything that had fed them, and what brought them to light.

The desire to control even what he couldn’t born in him from the moment in which the sound of the lifeless bodies of his parents resounded in that alley, that fateful night, and since then he lived with it. That desire to watch, intervene, and always be prepared for the worst grew as he did too, and became the man, the supposed hero, he’s now. And it was when those closest to him suffered or were injured by his decisions or failures, which reaffirmed more and more in his being.

That feeling, that need, was like a vine with thorns. Pointy, infinite, dangerous, and sturdy, rooted within him without any limit, pressing and suffocating him everywhere, ready to hang him. It scratched his scars so that he would always remember them, suffocated his mind so that he would never forget it, and strangled his soul and that of those around him, because it was a double-edged sword where the line of protecting or controlling was easily blurred.

He couldn't get rid of it either, because then, what would be left of him? He was Batman. Batman. The one who always had a plan, a contingency, who stood out for his critical sense and his mind, what always had another alternative. He was the one whom the others looked at when they were trapped in a situation with no way out, the one who kept calm in extreme situations, the one who was able to save the day or the world thanks to his control.

He couldn't lose that, but it's not like he wanted to, or knew how, either. So, doing his best was all that was left. Keep calm, control. He tries it.

He tried but the manor was quiet. He knew it wasn’t something unexpected after what happened three nights ago, but it kept worrying him because it was as if everything had turned off suddenly.

Damian's firm, light footsteps were no longer heard in the hallways, his youngest son hadn’t left his room since that night, he had also refused to receive anyone and was recovering from his sprained ankle. The soft Richard’s laugh had also vanished, he was like a ghost, he knew that he walked around the corridors from time to time because he couldn’t bear the confinement, but he was impossible to detect. Alfred's courtesy couldn’t be seen either, he knew that the man was not only angry, but that he respected his desire to be alone right now. The presence of his daughter, Cassandra, was also lying much in need, as much as she was silent in itself, her stay was always appreciated. Stephanie's jokes had been replaced by cautious and angry looks upon learning what happened. Barbara hadn't even deigned to answer him when he asked for a certain favor the night before. Timothy and Jason had fallen into complete silence, nothing unexpected.

It was afternoon, but Bruce was in his office in the manor, thinking about how the place he had managed to fill with laughs, footsteps, and life over the years was now as empty and silent as when Thomas and Martha Wayne died.

He hadn't moved much, from the big chair in front of the expensive office desk, because he was still thoughtful and analyzing the argument that had happened in the cave three days before.

Bruce knew he wasn’t a good father. Like all of him, he was trying, but he was very aware of reality. If someone asked him about the mistakes he had made regarding his children, he could list each and every one of them by heart, classify them by different categories, and then recite them out loud almost without thinking. This, obviously, was because he had them in his mind and insanely at all times and, of course, feed again those cravings for control that dominated him. The fear of losing them was too much, he couldn’t bear it, and that led him back to enter that infinite cycle that dominated his life.

The more he loved his children, the more he needed to protect them. That, in one way or another, involved controlling them and their environment, and the more he tried to do it, the more damage he did directly or indirectly. He always ended up failing, making mistakes. And these mistakes were present again, trying not to be repeated for then commit others instead.

He was also aware that most of his children hadn’t had an easy life. Everyone came to him as children whose circumstances had been difficult and unfavorable. He couldn’t be responsible for the trauma or abuse that others had done to them, he just helped to mitigate it, give them the happy, healthy home they deserved and tried to change things where possible. But at the end of the day, the adult who took responsibility for them was him, and definitely had made mistakes.

The worst and what tormented him most at the moment, is that if he listed those mistakes and removed the most obvious and indisputable of the list -how, for example, involve all of them in their crime crusade - most of them involved Tim and Jason in some way or another.

That certainly didn’t help him.

If he initially wouldn’t have been so hurt by Dick's departure to the Titans, perhaps he would have considered not controlling Jason the way he did when he adopted him or making the same mistakes as with his first child. If he hadn't been so convinced that the wounded but brave boy from the Bowery, needed Robin, he might not have felt like he needed to fill his older brother's shoes and run away later. If he had made it to Ethiopia in time, to the warehouse, Jason wouldn’t have died. If Jason hadn't died, he wouldn't have fallen into the spiral of self-destruction that Tim had to save him from, and he wouldn’t have turned him into Robin. If he hadn't turned Tim into Robin, maybe his parents were still alive, maybe he would have had a normal and happy life. If Tim had a normal life, Jason wouldn’t have risen with so much hatred and resentment towards them and wouldn’t have tried to kill him. If he hadn’t "died" later, Tim wouldn’t have lost another person, nor fallen into the same self-destruction from which no one could save him now.

If... If not...

There were so many events that he could have changed, and others not. So many mistakes, so many things could have been better. Everything turned in his head and had harassed him for three days. His bad decisions, the possibilities, the memories, all of that filled him with guilt and uncertainty, blamed him that it didn’t matter how human he was, how much he felt, because his mistakes always had more weight and consequences in the people he loved, whatever he did.

He remembered the despair he felt while holding Jason's corpse, bloody and broken as the warehouse burned and collapsed around him. The fear that ran through him when he helped to trait Tim's wounds after Red Hood's beating him up at the Titans' tower too, knowing who had done it. He remembered the disappointment and pain that Jason's spiteful words provoked him when he was ready to kill the Joker. Also, the understanding of Tim's tears after his father's death.

They were his sons. His sons. He felt and suffered more for them than for himself, and for the fact that because of his own crusade their lives have been so affected.

They had big hearts, unshakable will, and unmatched bravery. A potential within them that drove them to help others innately, to fight with everything they owned. It was that light, that ability, why they were Robin.

However, that didn’t take away the fact that his field-acquired wounds, both emotional and physical, could affect them on a deeper level than they could think. Endangering themselves, the other, and the rest of them with that hidden relationship that was revealed three nights ago.

Jason was the brave and fighting boy from the streets who decided to fight the crime he experienced firsthand. But the trauma related to the abuse, the streets, and his own death was still very entrenched inside him, shaping his decisions both inside and outside his vigilant life. The Lazarus Pit had made him violent and angry, a killer who lost control when one of his triggers of said trauma appeared, including the bats themselves. As much as he had improved his control, they still had no guarantee that the Pit Rage would appear at any time and become a threat for all of them again.

Tim, the sweet little Tim, was still the smart and kind boy who threw away all opportunity to live a normal wealthy child life to become an extraordinary hero, someone who cared for and saved people in a selfless and sacrificed way. But the experiences that came along with that decision were not as kind as he was, and while Tim gave his all, without contemplation, in exchange he lost family, friends and stability. Bruce was not stupid, he recognizes a severe depression when he saw it, and although no one knows what happened to his third child during the time he was lost in time -or what he had to do to get him out- it had to be bad enough for Timothy became the lifeless emotionless shadow which was now.

“You’ve been years without knowing anything from us!” Jason said three nights ago.

It wasn't true, but it wasn't false either. He couldn't deny it with the same force as Richard did, because as much as he would like to say that both of them were still integrated in the family, it wasn’t true. They hadn't been in a long time, and they couldn't run away from it.

For him, it was always easier to treat Jason as if he had been a fallen soldier in battle because doing it as the son he left to die was too painful, it kept shaking him to the depths of his existence, perhaps that was why he hadn’t been able to integrate him among them again, in addition to all the history resulting from those events. He couldn't ignore his morality and methods, destructive and totally different from his. Neither the numerous attempts to harm him or the rest of the family, especially Tim. There was the fact that Red Hood operated in Gotham apart from the Outlaws, yes, but they hardly worked together or cooperated. They had their territories very defined, but he could barely catch a glimpse of Red Hood without twisting things, neither Jason. He knew that sometimes he was in the cave or the manor, but he always made sure not to see him and not stay long unless it was necessary.

For his part, Timothy, after he returned from his "death" and accepted Damian as Robin, he adopted the Red Robin alias and seemed to disappear entirely. He claimed to be in favor of carving out his own name as a hero, but he was elusive, smart, and determined. He went to live alone, to work with the Titans or at WE. It didn’t matter how many calls they made, how many emergencies or meetings would be held. Tim barely stepped on the manor, he didn’t stop to talk about anything other than the vigilant job, and long periods passed without seeing him. He hid his wounds very carefully and his habits began to be dangerous for him. They knew enough to realize that he was trying too hard and something was going very wrong but reaching out to help him without scaring him in the process was hard, complicated.

Maybe for all that and more, his sons didn’t trust him enough to reveal what was going on between them, that they were dating. He didn't blame them, he really deserved it, because he couldn't figure it out either. He also deserved they were angry with him and his opinion on the matter.

They could get mad at him, hate him, or yell at him. But he really believed that he had reason to say that relationship was something that should be discussed or thought more carefully.

Relationships on the field were dangerous, he knew it personally, and he still remembered the discomfort that had plagued the team when Barbara and Dick broke up so many years ago, not to mention Tim and Stephanie too. And he also remembers the serious injuries Jason inflicted on Tim, how much Red Hood lost control around him, and how little Tim has always valued himself and his injuries.

Jason's problems along with Timothy's emotional state were not a good combination at all. It wasn’t. It didn't matter how they looked at it, nor how many years will pass. Their story was too rough, there was too much torment, too much tension between them. They themselves were not in a position to have such a relationship with anyone, much less with the other. And if he already doubted the red team itself -despite its efficiency- he also couldn't help but doubt this.

He couldn't leave them to destroy each other, he couldn't. He knew that was how it would end, and the simple possibility that it might happen made his cravings for control beg him to take the reins of everything again, to fix all this and do it now.

However, he had already been too carried away by that feeling to know that it wasn’t a good idea to follow it. So, before he could do anything, he received a call. A call that lasted for hours, most of the night, where he got another perspective on the matter and helped him to decide and ask that favor from Barbara that he hadn't heard from yet.

Despite knowing there would be no response yet, he couldn't help but check his phone again to make sure, eager to be able to do something about it instead of sitting for hours in that office evaluating and planning the best course of action.

He was just going to think about that when a few firm touches on the window caught his attention, causing him to straighten and look at the window on his left suspiciously.

Even though he had told him that he didn't need him to come, there he was, his call.

Frowning, Bruce got up from his seat and went to the window to open it wide, looking at Clark Kent, who floated in front of him in his civilian clothes as if it were the most normal thing in Gotham in the middle of the afternoon.

Holding back a sigh, he opened the window and stepped aside to let him in, trying to decide what to say first.

He was debating between a "What the hell are you doing here?" or "I specifically told you not to come here.” before the Super raised his hand and talked.

“When was the last time you slept?” He asked, looking at him closely.

Not even a "Hello, how are you?" before starting to enter the matter. It wasn’t necessary, they had already overcome that phase of their relationship for a long time. What's more, Clark didn't have to ask how he was doing, he already knew it, he knew it very well.

It had been him who had finished calling after the discussion in the cave with Tim and Jason because he knew that something happened to him only by his heartbeat. It's not like he could have hidden it from him, because not only would he have found out sooner or later, but because he already did, and he was his best friend, so he finished telling him everything. They talked too much, and the call lasted for hours, with both locked in their offices for more privacy and with Clark insisting on going to see him.

He said there was no need, but he had ignored it, as always.

“That’s not relevant.” He replied, frowning further.

To Clark, that was the fragrant confirmation that -indeed- he hadn’t slept for three days. In his defense, Bruce would say he was too busy thinking about other things to allow himself a little rest. What's more, he wouldn't even have done it if he tried.

Every time he closed his eyes he listened to Tim's choked sobs and his weak voice begging him to leave them alone.

Clark wasn't going to know that, but didn’t seem to like his answer at all, because he crossed his arms and looked at him the way he always did when he had no idea what to do with him.

For a moment, Bruce had the slight hope that Clark would let him go, but it was Kent. So, when he grabbed his arm and dragged him onto the couch in the office to make him sit down with him, he wasn't even surprised. He just rolled his eyes and reminded himself that trying to fight Superman for this was not worth it, because he already knew the result, he had tried too many times. So, he ended up sitting next to him on the sofa and sighing heavily.

“Sleep.” Clark said simply and shrugged. As if it were that easy.

“I don't think it works that way, Kent.” He replied with a snort.

Clark looked at him again disapprovingly a few seconds, then his annoyance softened, and his look turned into one of pure concern.

“Rest, please.” He asked softly. “I know you, and I know there have been rough days, but it wouldn’t be better like this.”

After a moment of silence, Bruce decided not to answer that and instead leaned on the sofa to look at the ceiling in silence, closing later his eyes and completely ignoring the tug on his chest that Clark's concern caused him.

That seemed to be an acceptable move for the Kryptonian, because then they were completely silent, together. Bruce could feel the warmth of the other's body, sitting too close. Also, how he tried not to move too much so as not to distract him or disturb his rest, which didn’t help much because he couldn’t rest by himself, but the effort was appreciated.

He didn't keep track of how long they were quiet and just being aware of each other's presence, but Bruce found himself breaking that peace after a few minutes without even hesitate.

“Why are you here?” He asked without changing his position.

He felt Clark stir in his seat and his bluish gaze fixed on him.

“I wanted to see how you were.” He replied directly. “Do I need something more to see you?”

Again, he remained silent, that tug on his chest appearing again. However, unlike a few minutes ago, this time he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him too, meeting his face closer to his than he had originally thought.

He didn't look away, neither did Clark. They just looked at each other intently and waited for the other to say something. A tension already known between them leaked into the room.

If someone had told Bruce years ago that Superman would be his most supportive person in his life, who he would trust the most, maybe he would have laughed, a lot. Now, he would have no choice but to agree and say thanks for it.

Because if it hadn't been for that call and those hours of conversation, things would have been much worse, and the situation would have only exploded after he had done something crazy. It was Clark who helped him see that it wasn’t necessary to carry the burdens of his mistakes alone, but that it was easier to do it together. It made it lighter. It was Clark who told him that even Superman made mistakes, everyone did, and the thing was learning to live with them and fix them after all, but don't let them dictate your life. And, above all, it was Clark who convinced him not to take hasty actions and try to clarify things with Tim and Jason without emotions clouding his judgment.

It was Clark, it was always Clark. The one who managed to make him reason, the one who broke each and every one of his barriers with ease, the one who gave him hope, the one who saw beyond the calculating and calm façade he showed. Clark, always Clark.

“My son was here yesterday.” The Super ended up saying in a whisper, they were close enough to hear it.

“I know.” Bruce answered.

He always knew when Jonathan showed up at the manor to visit Damian. This time he even thanked him, because he didn’t know the state of his younger son, but he did know that Superboy could cheer him up. As much as he broke Gotham's “no meta” rules and the limits set by his parents, he decided to let it be.

“And you were okay with that?” Clark asked, more curious than annoyed.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“What do you think?”

His answer made that tension, known but unsolvable, grow even more. Clark swallowed hard and Bruce didn't look away.

The truth is that they would have had to be very blind not to have realized that their sons were in love for a long time and hopelessly they were going to end up together. After all, it was something that had been happening and developing in front of them since they made them team as children, and what they also had avoided talking at all cost.

If Bruce at this time wasn't so worried about what had happened with Tim and Jason and how to solve it, maybe he could stop to think about how unfair he and Clark were being not wanting to recognize the feelings that their sons had on the other.

They would like to; they would really like to. But admit that would openly lead to mention Conner's fixation with Timothy, which would lead to the conclusion of that, for some reason, always has existed a connection/fixing between the Supers and the Bats. And to admit this fixation would mean declaring that it really exists, along with that... Something, between them.

There was something. Something between Bruce and Clark which didn’t want to admit, speak, or recognize. They've been ignoring it for years and had always worked like this, they had no reason to bring it to light, nor act on it. However, recognizing the situation of their sons not only will make it much more real, if not that -in some way- impossible.

That doesn't make sense because it was already impossible anyway. Clark was married to Lois, Bruce was dating Selina, they have been best friends since the League was founded, and their children were going to end up together, so there was no way they could... What?

Do what? To say what?

There was nothing to do, nothing to say. It wouldn't do any good because it was too late. No matter how much they tried to ignore it, it was something that hung over their heads and the moment it arrived they had to impose their sons' happiness on theirs, because that was how it worked, that’s what it meant to be a dad.

Although maybe that's why they didn't want to admit it, maybe that's why they tried to postpone all that until they could no longer, because they knew that the moment their children spoke for themselves, the decision of both of them was made, and it was like closing a door definitively that they had never dared to cross, but whose existence knew.

But that wasn’t the important thing at the moment. The important thing was Tim, Jason, their relationship, making sure they were safe and secure, and waiting until Oracle managed to contact them in order to see them. But that was a matter of time, he just had to wait.

So, ready for it, Bruce turned away from Clark, snorted wearily, settled back on the couch, and closed his eyes to get some sleep after three days without rest.

And if Clark's hand held his in the process, was something between them and no one else.

~0.0~

When he woke up, he was alone.

The office was dark, it was already night, the window was closed, and Bruce was lying on the couch.

There was no sign of Clark, but before thinking about how he had taken advantage of the fact that he had fallen asleep to accommodate him and leave without saying anything, he focused on the light of the flashing notification from his phone that he had been waiting all day.

"Don’t thank me. Say hi to Hood before the patrol.” Barbara's text said.

She had done it; she had granted his request and had been successful. Oracle had managed to locate the red team to take them to the Cave and sort things out. To have a conversation about it without surprises or threats, just leaving the cards on the table at once. There were situations and secrets in the family that could no longer be ignored more, and this was one of them.

Bruce didn’t have time to be surprised that it was precisely Jason who agreed to attend that appointment, because he realized that he should head there. It was time to prepare for the patrol and it was better not to make anyone wait this time. He was determined to make his position clear and protect his sons, as necessary.

He was halfway to the cave entrance when a loud sound made his world stop and a jolt of terror prick him.

Bang!

He breathed for a second, and then, recognizing the sound as a shot, he went through the entrance and down into the cave as fast as possible. Everything in a pure ingrained instinct that he had acquired after so many years in the crusade against crime, which tightened his muscles and contracted his bones.

With his heart hammering hard and thousands of possibilities and explanations piercing his mind, when he arrived at the cave precisely the least expected received him.

The vision of Dick Grayson, gun in hand, with Jason Todd bleeding out on the floor, made him realize that everything had gone too far.

There was no longer a solution.

#myfic #jaytim #jondami #timjay #damijon #dc #dc comics #batman #superbat #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #jon kent #jonathan kent #red robin #red hood #superboy #robin #supersons

48 notes · View notes

jcmorrigan · 4 years

Text

I had...mixed feelings about how Varian’s redemption arc was pulled off in the S3 premiere, but after going back and revisiting him in S1, I noticed something and developed a little bit of a headcanon around it, and I thought I’d put it out there in case no one else yet has. And if someone has, well, I’m validating that.

From the very beginning, the people of Corona didn’t like Varian at all. Cassandra only knew of him through rumors, and she made sure to warn Rapunzel that “Not much is known about him, and what is, isn’t good. People think he’s dangerous.” So already, Varian was never well-liked among Corona.

Yet still he tried to make advancements that would help them - his heated water, his crusade against the black rocks that destroyed Old Corona. He didn’t hold anything against them for a very long time.

Then you have the water boiler incident. Varian very nearly destroyed Old Corona with his pumps. He was confident at first that he would improve Old Corona, but in the end, it was a massive failure that nearly resulted in multiple casualties. However, no one was seriously harmed at all in the end, despite the scare.

Enter Qirin. He confirms, first of all, that this exact scenario has happened before, though we aren’t told with what invention or what the fallout was. All we can assume is that Varian tried an experiment, it nearly hurt someone/caused property damage, and thankfully didn’t cause as much harm as it could have.

Varian is very dependent on Qirin’s validation and approval, as his signature song in “Queen for a Day” demonstrates. Even though he and Qirin love each other, like many a parent-child duo, they don’t quite understand each other, and their relationship is very rocky. Varian strives for Qirin in particular to admire him (which Qirin does, I’m sure, but he’s not good at expressing it).

Then comes the Expo. Varian has made yet another invention that he is certain will only bring good. He wants to impress a woman he likes, and focuses naming the byproduct of his invention after her. He helps her out with her duties in setup because, crush or no crush, “That’s the kind of thing friends do.” He’s done everything right; surely no harm can come of that?

But thanks to St. Croix, Varian’s invention is once again at the crux of a catastrophe. This time, it’s the intervention of Rapunzel, Eugene, and Cassandra that prevents Corona from being destroyed in the cyclone. Varian has once again seen his attempt to do good turn into a disaster. He has once again come to a place where nothing was truly harmed permanently, and this time, he has his new friends to thank for it.

Now, the fall: the amber.

Varian, as usual, is attempting to do good by researching the black rocks and experimenting with them. Once again, his science results in an utter catastrophe. This time, Qirin himself is at risk of death or a fate worse than it. Even though he acted with good intentions and felt his science was sound, Varian caused an accident that was about to devour his own father - which is something nobody, kid, teenager, or adult, can really get past. It’s inherently horribly traumatic.

Varian, however, is optimistic. After all, in the past, his catastrophes never ended up hurting anyone! And last time, the day was saved thanks to Rapunzel and her friends! Surely, if Varian can just bring her to the situation, it will all be fixed!

His song, “Let Me Make You Proud,” has him recounting that he’s made mistake over mistake but vowing to prove to Qirin that all of that is in the past. That he’s a new person. That by fixing this, he will have proven he will no longer hurt anyone with his mishaps.

However, when Rapunzel is given a no-win situation, Varian has to come to terms with something he’s never needed to consider: he has been responsible for something he can’t fix, and the person most important to him is on the line. Essentially, he’s killed his own father.

No wonder he blames Rapunzel. No wonder he becomes angry at the people he normally wants to help. If he faces the truth in the eyes, he will see that he was the one responsible for Qirin’s fate.

Moreover, combine this with his past track record. He caused at least three different incidents that nearly destroyed the entire kingdom. The people of the kingdom have called him “dangerous” because he toys with things they don’t understand. Turns out, it seems they were right. He put Qirin in danger. It’s all come crashing down into reality - how many times this has already happened before. How many times Varian has nearly destroyed everything he loves.

His fall to darkness was a self-fulfilling prophecy. He saw himself as rotten. He decided to just stop pretending and play the part - even though, truly, acting as though his intentions had never been to help others was the real charade.

I feel his redemption was a little rushed and mishandled, relying on us doing the legwork of seeing Varian’s progression offscreen, but looking back on it, it suddenly makes more sense that his motivations would switch from wanting to make Corona pay to wanting to make Corona forget. Because in that span of time, he finally accepted that he was the one who caused them hurt. That he’s been causing them hurt for years. That he does love them, and every bit of hate he projected onto Rapunzel and the others was actually hate he felt for himself.

It doesn’t help that Qirin, the one person who could be the voice of reason and put things in perspective, is the one he’s lost and cannot get an answer from.

To me, “Be Very Afraid” is not just about Varian fearing people will still hate him for one attack, one coup, the pinnacle of his career. It’s about him fearing he was always like this. Always one step away from being the bane of Corona. In his first daymare, people bring up his betrayal in the same breath as “deserving” what happened to Qirin, but I see it in a bit of a different light - they’re simply pointing out that he’s been playing with fire so long, why is he surprised that someone got burned? And Feldspar scoffing at him because of the coup isn’t just because of the coup. Feldspar would’ve done the same all the way back in S1, because Varian was playing with dangerous forces.

This is not me saying that Varian is at all inherently bad. Quite the opposite. I think he’s always been good at heart, and what caused him to snap was the realization that his actions could have consequences that would gravely harm others. But those actions were never ill-intentioned until he lost Qirin. He may have been a little irresponsible, but often times, the mishaps were a collection of bad luck, or simply the risk you take when doing science with forces you don’t understand (which needs to be done in order for advances to be made).

In short, Varian became the villain because he became terrified that he was always meant to be the villain. And his greatest enemy was never Rapunzel, the people of Corona, or even Andrew, but his own self-hatred.

#varian #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rta spoilers #tangled spoilers #long post #meta #i really did not like the s3 premiere at all at first #and it wasn't until i went back #that i realized the subtext that made it all clearer to me #so i hope this resonates with others

289 notes · View notes

crazyfreckledginger · 5 years

Text

Batboys x Reader - “Hidden Kitten”

Going to go get dry cleaning got you a lot of unwanted attention by a few men, thankfully, five vigilantes were patrolling the area and happen to spot you in trouble, but being the hidden daughter of Bruce Wayne and having been trained by your mother, Selina will you really need saving?

Requested by anon: “If requests are still open can you do one where y/n is Selina Kyle’s daughter but dosent wanna be part of and Catwoman stuff but like can still kick your ass and she’s Bruce’s daughter but he dosent know and she gets attacked and he goes to save her bust she kicked his ass and is like “sup Mr Wayne” and idk end it how you want (sorry it’s so long)”

A/N: Hope you like it!

“Mom, where is my coat?” The girl shuffled through the coat rack, taking a deep breath as she pulled herself out of the furniture that had become heavy because of the abundant coats and jackets hanging from it.

“Oh, sorry, I sent it to the dry cleaners, actually, can you go pick up a load for me?” she pouted, putting her boots on. A sigh escaped her lips as she nodded, gazing at the window to see the darkness outside.

“I’m going to see Batsy,” Selina announced before opening the window and slipping out.

“Okay,” (Y/N) muttered, making sure she could stay warm in the clothing she was in. Her hand extended to grasp the leaflet to pick up the dry cleaning, the keys for the apartment and some extra money just in case it started to rain and she needed to call a cab.

Hugging herself, she stared at the ground, watching her feet as they placed in front of each other rhythmically. It was quite chilly out here, the cold was nipping at her skin through her thin layer of clothing.

How ironic.

If only her mother could have told her in the day so she wouldn’t be on the verge of freezing and rather walking in the warming sun.

Glancing at her phone, she released a sigh of relief. The girl still has a solid hour before the store closes, she has plenty of time.

The small moment of comfort soon washed away when she decided to glance to an alley to her left and perceived three or four men. In the glow of the street lamp, they seem to gaze at her figure and stood up.

Uh ho.

Increasing her pace, she marched out of their view as quick as possible and hugged herself tighter.

(Y/N) didn’t have to turn around to know that they had started following her. Her teeth chewed on her lip in thought, judging whether it would be wise to lead these guys right to the dry cleaners.

After much thought, she decided it might be best to go to the dry cleaners, the cameras in the shop might be able to pick up these guys faces.

The girl scurried down the last block as she perceived the luminous logo brightening up the dark spot between the street lamps. After bolting the rest of the way, she was thankfully only a little bit out of breath. Twenty minutes before

“Good evening (Y/N),” the dry cleaner smiled widely.

“Hello, I’m here to pick up the dry cleaning,” the girl returned the gesture, pulling the leaflet out of her pocket and softly sliding it across the counter, “my mom should have paid already?” she tried explaining but it came more as a question.

“Yes, she has,” the woman grinned, meandering near all the orders, glancing down at the code to match it to the batch, “oh, there is it,” a small murmur escaped the lady’s lips as she talked to herself. Her fingers locked around the batch, pulling it off the hook and awkwardly carrying back to (Y/N), “here you go.” the elder lady offered her another welcoming grin.

“Thank you so much, have a nice night!” The girl nodded before placing the bag around her arm and walking out.

As soon as the little bell rang, she found herself in the chilly cold again.

Were the people still here? She honestly didn’t want to know.

For most of the journey, it was relatively calm, no one showed up and, despite the suspicious mens’ disappearance, she was not the least bit stressed -- and thankfully, the bag of clothes were keeping her warm and fending the cold away.

When the apartment finally got into eye shot, she became excited of getting back in the warmth and snuggling under the blankets.

Yet again, the happy emotions flushed away for the same reason as last time.

Her eyes distinguished the four men, most likely from earlier. One was on her side of the sidewalk, walking straight to her, another one was on the other side of the road and, in her peripheral vision, she could discern another figure not far from her.

(Y/N) was surrounded and she couldn’t even find the last man. Halting in her footing, she scanned around, figuring they already knew she understood what was happening -- or about to happen.

“Hello little girl,” one of them spoke, “if you can give us your money, that would be nice, unless it’s something else you want?” he chuckled, it was the fourth man she couldn’t see before.

Her eyebrow raised slowly, this was stupid.

“Okay then, if you’re so passionate about it, just let me put my clothes down,” (Y/N) spoke, carefully placing the bag on the closest car.

“We want what’s in the bag as well,” another explained.

“Oh, so you also want to upgrade your fashion sense aside from the black clothes?” the girl voiced sarcastically. The sound of an unsheathing knife pecked at her ears and she snapped around swiftly.

“I don’t think you understand the kind of situation you’re in girly,” he tilted his head to the side.

“Oh, but I completely understand the ‘kind of situation I am in’,” she mocked.

“The little lady is very mouthy, maybe she could use that mouth for something else.” one of them chuckled. (Y/N) stomach churned in disgust.

“Well, I’m warning you, I bite a lot, better be careful, for your own sake,” her eyes narrowed fiercely.

The thumping sound of a heavy weight on a rooftop resonated not too far away, but the girl could not hear it as she grasped the armed wrist of the man, kicking him in the knee as he groaned in pain.

The knife only stayed in her hand momentarily as she threw it away, into the shadows and punched the other man across the face.

Unbeknownst to her, four other vigilantes jumped down beside the first one but didn’t dare move as they watched the scene peculiar unfold.

(Y/N) kicked the third man in the face and slammed the last person’s back against the wall, releasing a small breath.

“Sweetie?” the soothing voice called out. The five figures jumped as they somehow got caught off guard by the cat that crawled towards them. The girl in question glanced up at the rooftop and frowned in confusion at the other shadows she couldn’t easily recognised.

Selina jumped down in front of the girl and hugged her side.

“Look, Batsy and his little birds were so impressed they didn’t even notice me sneak up on them.” she pinched (Y/N)’s cheek.

“Ow, stop mom!” she grumbled, pushing her mother away and rubbing her cheek in soreness.

“You have a daughter?” the caped crusader inquired as he jumped down at their level along with the rest of the Batboys.

“Oh, sup, Mr Wayne!” (Y/N) waved, grinning.

“W-who?” Nightwing spluttered to try and cover up.

“Nice going jackass, he’s not the only famous billionaire in town,” Red Hood retorted. Batman glared at the girl.

“Be nice Batsy, she’s your daughter too,”

“WHAT!!” The two eldest exclaimed as Red Robin and Robin

“I’m going home,”

“W-wait!” Nightwing’s voice rang in her eardrums as she hugged the clothes she had picked up and scurried home.

“There is some left over pizza in the oven! I’ll be there in a bit!” Her mother’s called out.

Comments, votes and feedback improve motivation, writing and publishing, so it is in your best interest to leave some! :)

Want to be tagged? Let me know in which ever way you are the most comfortable with!

Tagging: @lumifuer @ijustwantmyshipstobehappy @plethora-of-things @xlatinaaxx @lostnliterature @batette @pythiaaa @schweeeppess@gearsinice @mizmahlia @tina8009 @alex--awesome--22 @disa

525 notes · View notes

epochxp · 3 years

Text

Epoch Xperience Interviews Nordic Weasel Founder, Ivan Sorensen

Mr. Sorensen needs no real introduction to many miniature wargamers. His company, Nordic Weasel Games, has taken the historical miniatures gaming world by storm, and he’s become the force on Wargames Vault. His formula of “substance over flash” has produced good games for a very reasonable price, and he has taken full advantage of PDF technology to produce a quality product one can buy and have in your (virtual hands) the next day.

Without further ado, I give you Ivan Sorensen:

Biography

My name is Ivan Sorensen, and I am a game designer and self-publishing writer of miniatures games, as well as the odd role-playing game. Under the moniker of Nordic Weasel Games, I have worked as a game writer for close to 7 years.

I am an avid player of board games, miniatures games, role-playing games, video games, and anything else I can get my hands on. I have spent half my life on this planet in Denmark, where I was born, and half in the United States, where I currently reside. I am married, have one kid and two cats named Scruffy and Lancelot.

Unlike a lot of historical games writers, many of my formative miniatures gaming experiences actually came from science fiction games, so I suppose that has given me a little bit of a different perspective.

So, how did you get started in writing rules? Was there an “aha” moment, or did you fall into it?

At the risk of sounding cheesy, I have basically always created little dice and board games for myself, using Lego pieces or other things that we had available, usually based on video games I had read about in magazines or other ideas like that.

When I was 12 or so, I remember getting a copy of White Dwarf magazine from a local gaming club I had joined, and it blew my mind. We had some limited exposure to the idea of space marines and all these things from the Milton Bradley Hero Quest and Space Crusade board games, but the idea of battle games played without a board, using miniatures and dice was too much to resist. I knew I had to get into this, and as I had no money for it, I sat down to write a game I could play with my Space Crusade figures, which would look as much like what I imagined Warhammer 40.000 would be like.

Since then, I had pretty much always been the “rules guy” in the gaming groups I was part of, whether we were playing miniatures games or RPG’s, so it just came naturally over time, I suppose. As I got access to the internet and later got access to ordering things from the UK or US, I devoured every game I could get my hands on and was even remotely interested in.

The start to writing games that were any good was my own attempt at creating a World War 1 game system (titled Trench Storm). I had shared it online, and to my great surprise, it began catching people’s attention and got a (very) small following, with people even purchasing miniatures to play it. Eventually, I was contacted by the US distributor for IT Miniatures, who offered to print it to promote their 20mm figure range. The rest is, as they say, history. Once in a great while, a copy of that game still pops up on eBay, it seems!

How did Nordic Weasel Games come to be?

So that story took place right around the time I moved to the United States. After moving, I had a lengthy period where I did not have my work permit yet, so game writing seemed like an obvious distraction, resulting in Fast and Dirty, a sci-fi rules set that you still see mentioned online here and there.

As the years went on, I kept tinkering and building things but mostly for my own enjoyment. Sometime during the fall of 2013, I started seriously working on a new game system for WW2 skirmish actions that I felt had some real potential to go places. At the time, I worked at a relatively dead-end middle management job at an incredibly toxic information technology company. You know the sort of job, where you have been there for too long, and you hate every minute of it.

Come the spring, I decided to take a gamble that I could make enough money from game sales to make it worth pursuing and quit. I figured if I could find a way to do it without putting money on the line, then if it all bombed, I could just walk away and find something else to do in life.

Consequently, Five Men in Normandy was released on June 15, 2014, and as of today, we are still here!

What is in the future for Nordic Weasel?

Hopefully, many big things! The biggest priority for 2021 specifically is to get into print books, though there are a lot of stumbling blocks in terms of layout requirements and so on.

I always keep a list of projects I would like to do, though I try not to talk about them too much in case they fall through. I am the sort of guy who always starts with 20 ideas, so by the time the unworkable ones have been weeded out, there are 2 or 3 left.

What I can say is that I am actively looking at fantasy miniatures battles, and I would love to do more WW1 and Black Powder era gaming material.

The real big question is that I am also very much at a point where there are just too many things to do it all alone. I cannot write 4 or 5 new games, support an entire back catalogue, and update old titles all by my lonesome, so I look forward to trying to solve that in the future. I suppose this is a good problem to have, but it is certainly also an intimidating one!

Is there a period of history you want to write rules for but have not?

We have worked extensively with the two world wars and the black powder era in general, as well as 20th century-to-modern era battles, and with Knyghte, Pyke and Sworde we even delved into medieval warfare.

The one that stands out as something that would be fun to do is World War 1 air combat, complete with goggles and scarf flapping in the wind. A little romanticized sure, but great fun, and there is a lot of fantastic models available.

For a historical era I have not touched on at all, I would say that while I have done games that cover it among other 19th century conflicts, a dedicated American Civil War set is something I would be very keen to do.

There are a lot of fantastic rules out there for the period, of course, but I feel like the “Weasel” approach of being solo-friendly and campaign-oriented could carve out a nice space of that market. Plus, I find the era quite fascinating. Growing up in Denmark, I was never really raised with a particular view of the conflict, but having married into a proud Vermont family, it is, of course, unavoidable.

Can you tell our readers what goes into rules writing?

I think this is something that is intensely personal, and the rationale for writing something can be varied: It may be due to sensing an opening in the hobby space that does not seem to be catered to currently. It may be that I have a personal passion for a given setting or era, or it may simply be that I have a clever game mechanic and want to build a game around it.

The process for me usually starts with sketching out a page or two of keywords, mechanics, and things I’d like to hit on a notepad. Then I work on building it out with simple sketches for the main areas of the mechanics: Activations, movement, shooting, morale, and so forth. Basically, carving out the cornerstones of the game system. At this stage, it is entirely possible it feels like it’s not going anywhere, and it goes in the bin.

If the core idea seems to have merit in this skeleton form, it’s time to test it out with some generic troops and see if it actually feels fun on the table. From there, you just build out from it: Get other people to read and play it, read it out loud to yourself, etc. Figure out what parts need ironing out and improving and which are good.

It is really all an iterative process. Once I know the game has legs to stand on, I start writing out the table of contents in advance, so I can “fill in the blanks” as I go. If I know I am going to have a section later for off-map support, I can keep that in mind when I am developing each piece of the mechanics and so forth.

Eventually, any project hits “The Suck (TM).” This is whatever part you hate doing the most, whether it is layout or proofreading or points systems or whatever. For me, it is terrain rules, funny enough. I never read that section of a rulebook, and I never enjoy writing it, but you must. “The Suck” is where your game will probably die because if you let it overcome you, you will put the book down, and every time you click on the word processor, you will immediately be faced with it. The best way to defeat “The Suck” in my experience is caffeine and not letting up: When it starts rearing its ugly head, it is time to keep going and don’t stop until you are through with it.

Has desktop publishing and PDF only supplements changed the face of the hobby? Has it affected the quality of the product we see today?

Absolutely yeah. It’s not that long ago that a game being available in PDF was a novelty, whereas today, if a game is NOT available in PDF, you are going to lose sales.

I think the barrier of entry has also dropped dramatically. Even a basic word processing package can churn out a PDF document that you can distribute online or sell. Of course, with proper page layout software, you can achieve much greater results (as some of my friends are rarely missing a chance to tell me), but you need to examine what your skill limit is. Any tool has a skill cap, to borrow a video game term. If you are not currently good enough at what you do to push up against the limitations of your software, burning 200 dollars on new apps will not make your books any better.

It is funny, though, because the wargaming field is so diverse in the type of things we see. You can pick up relatively big-name games that are incredibly plain-looking: Black and white, no art, rudimentary layout. Then right next to it, you see a PDF that is full-color, original artwork, and gorgeous. And the two can be viewed as equal value to the audience.

Of course, eye candy DOES sell, but I think once you are beyond the Warhammer circles, gamers become a lot more content-focused.

What are your favorite historical periods and why?

The 19th Century, the two world wars and the Russian Civil War.

Really, the whole era from circa 1910 to 1925 or so is fascinating to me: It is, of course, the transition of the old, romanticized world to the world of modern warfare, as well as being incredibly diverse in the sort of things you can see. The Russian Civil War sees tanks and armored cars, partisan bands, nationalist militias, Red and White guards, Cossack cavalry armies, Anarchists, and anything else you can shake a stick at. It is really a wargamers heaven for finding odd units to model up on the gaming table.

Honestly, my love of history, in general, comes from one source: “All Quiet on the Western Front.” I think anyone with a passion for history has that moment where they realize that history is not about abstract concepts and kings and dates but is about real people who lived and breathed and had dreams and hopes. “All Quiet” was that for me, and it left a life-long impression on me when I read it as a teenager a few years from the age of the characters in the book.

What do you see for the future of historical miniature wargaming?

Oof, that is a dangerous question. I think I managed to predict the rise of “Warband” level games (games where you play a small force in skirmish actions and with some level of character progression between games). Right now, that idea has set the fantasy and sci-fi miniatures scenes on fire, with everyone churning out their own version of the concept.

In historical gaming, there are elements of it, but it has not been embraced to the same extent, possibly due to the grognard bias against skirmish games. I think if I had to put money on something, I would say watch out for historical skirmish games with campaign aspects or character progression in the next year or three.

I also think solo gaming is going to continue to gain in popularity and respectability, with more games developed primarily or even specifically for solo play. I am super excited to see this field because there is a lot of things that can be done here with how enemies arrive on the table, fog of war, and so forth, which is not possible in a conventional opposed game.

Playtesting, how important is it?

Very, but it’s also very misunderstood. I see people post all the time on forums about how they have been testing their game rules for 5 years. That sounds very impressive, but if you are only getting together 3 or 4 times a year in that time frame, you are basically starting over each time. Additionally, just playing the game with your own group is fine to iron out the basic problems of a game, but it will lose its value very quickly.

To get actual feedback, give the game to people who cannot ask you questions and let them figure it out. Now your text must stand on its own feet and must work without you being there to explain the intentions. That is the real test. I would say three games played by strangers is worth more than ten games with your usual Saturday group.

Of course, tracking down people who can understand the rules, will play the game, [and] report back to you, AND aren’t crazy is a challenge. If you post online, 50 people will say they would love to, and of those, two will read the book. Once you find reliable people who can give you good feedback, cling to them for dear life.

What are the benefits and pitfalls of self-publishing your own wargaming rules?

The biggest advantage is, of course, that you are in charge. What you want in the book goes, if you want a supplement, it will happen, and so forth. Additionally, your game will reflect what you wanted it to be. I think in [self-publishing], you get a lot clearer creative visions and indie gamers tend to gravitate towards that: A game that has something to say on the topic is extremely attractive, even if you disagree with a particular conclusion.

I try to do as much myself as I can, though, of course, I do rely on outside sources for things like artwork, feedback, etc. Part of that is that this way, I know I can support the product down the road: If I want to fix a rule where we came up with a better way of doing it, or I want to add a new section, I can do that.

The downside, of course, is that you are on your own: Your art is as good as your own wallet can make it, your book looks as good as you can make it (unless you pay for it), and so forth. You also must promote it yourself. If you are writing for something like Osprey, they have marketing power and money to put behind the project.

Anything else you would like to say to our readers?

Before you write a game, ban yourself from reading any game on the same topic for a few months. If you are writing a WW2 tank game, put all your WW2 games in a box and do not open it. You should be spending that time immersing yourself in the topic in the form of books, music, documentaries, or anything else. Never ever another game.

Also, it cannot hurt to blast some metal albums, at least in my experience.

At Epoch Xperience, we specialize in creating compelling narratives and provide research to give your game the kind of details that engage your players and create a resonant world they want to spend time in. If you are interested in learning more about our gaming research services, you can browse Epoch Xperience’s service on our parent site, SJR Research.

(This article is credited to Jason Weiser. Jason is a long-time wargamer with published works in the Journal of the Society of Twentieth Century Wargamers; Miniature Wargames Magazine; and Wargames, Strategy, and Soldier.)

#Wargame Miscellaneous #interview #wargaming #history #gaming

1 note · View note

timeless-hollywood-classics · 4 years

Text

Clara Lou Sheridan (February 21, 1915 – January 21, 1967), known professionally as Ann Sheridan, was an American actress and singer. She worked regularly from 1934 until her death, first in film and later in television. Notable roles include San Quentin (1937) with Pat O'Brien and Humphrey Bogart, Angels with Dirty Faces (1938) with James Cagney and Bogart, They Drive by Night (1940) with George Raft and Bogart, The Man Who Came to Dinner (1942) with Monty Woolley, Kings Row (1942) with Ronald Reagan, Nora Prentiss (1947), and I Was a Male War Bride (1949) with Cary Grant.

Born in Denton, Texas, on February 21, 1915, Clara Lou Sheridan was the daughter of G.W. Sheridan and Lula Stewart Warren Sheridan. According to Sheridan, her father was a great-great-nephew of Civil War Union general Philip Sheridan. She had a sister, Pauline.

She was active in dramatics at Denton High School and at North Texas State Teachers College. She also sang with the college's stage band.

In 1932, she was a student at North Texas State Teachers College when her sister sent a photograph of her to Paramount Pictures. She subsequently entered and won a beauty contest, with part of her prize being a bit part in a Paramount film, The Search for Beauty. She left college to pursue a career in Hollywood.

After making her film debut in 1934, at 19, in Search for Beauty, she played uncredited bit parts in Paramount films for the next two years, starting at $75 a week (equivalent to $1,400 in 2019).

She can be glimpsed in Bolero (1934), Come On Marines! (1934) (billed as "Clara Lou Sheridan"), Murder at the Vanities (1934), Shoot the Works (1934), Kiss and Make-Up (1934), The Notorious Sophie Lang (1934), College Rhythm (1934) (directed by Norman Taurog whom Sheridan admired), Ladies Should Listen (1934), You Belong to Me (1934), Wagon Wheels (1934), The Lemon Drop Kid (1934), Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch (1934), Ready for Love (1934), Limehouse Blues (1934), and One Hour Late (1934).

Sheridan worked with Paramount's drama coach Nina Mouise and performed plays on the lot with fellow contractees, including The Milky Way and The Pursuit of Happiness. When she did The Milky Way, she played a character called Ann and the Paramount front office decided to change her name to "Ann".

Sheridan had a part in Behold My Wife! (1934), which she got at the behest of director Mitchell Leisen, who was a friend. She had two good scenes, one in which her character had to commit suicide. Sheridan attributed Paramount's keeping her for two years to this role.

She followed it with Enter Madame (1935), Home on the Range (1935), and Rumba (1935).

Sheridan's first lead came in Car 99 (1935) with Fred MacMurray. She was in Rocky Mountain Mystery (1935), a Randolph Scott Western. "No acting, it was just playing the lead, that's all", she later said.

She then appeared in Mississippi (1935) with Bing Crosby and W. C. Fields, The Glass Key (1935) with George Raft, and (having one line) The Crusades (1935) with Loretta Young. Paramount lent her out to Talisman, a small production company, to makeThe Red Blood of Courage (1935) with Kermit Maynard. After this, Paramount declined to take up her option.

Sheridan did one film at Universal, Fighting Youth (1935), and then signed a contract with Warner Bros. in 1936.

Sheridan's career prospects began to improve. Her early films for Warner Bros. included Sing Me a Love Song (1936); Black Legion (1937) with Humphrey Bogart; The Great O'Malley (1937) with Pat O'Brien and Bogart, her first real break; San Quentin (1937), with O'Brien and Bogart, singing for the first time in a film; and Wine, Women and Horses (1937) with Barton MacLane.

Sheridan moved into B picture leads: The Footloose Heiress (1937); Alcatraz Island (1937) with John Litel; and She Loved a Fireman (1937) with Dick Foran for director John Farrow. She was a lead in The Patient in Room 18 (1937) and its sequel Mystery House (1938). Sheridan was in Little Miss Thoroughbred (1938) with Litel for Farrow and supported Dick Powell in Cowboy from Brooklyn (1938).

Universal borrowed her for a support role in Letter of Introduction (1938) at the behest of director John M. Stahl. For Farrow, she was in Broadway Musketeers (1938), a remake of Three on a Match (1932).

Sheridan's notices in Letter of Introduction impressed Warner Bros. executives. "Oomph" was described as "a certain indefinable something that commands male interest." and she began to get roles in A pictures, starting with Angels with Dirty Faces (1938), wherein she played James Cagney's love interest; Bogart, O'Brien and the Dead End Kids had supporting roles. The film was a big hit and critically acclaimed.

Sheridan was reunited with the Dead End Kids in They Made Me a Criminal (1938) starring John Garfield. She was third-billed in the Western Dodge City (1939), playing a saloon owner opposite Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland. The film was another notable success.

In March 1939, Warner Bros. announced Sheridan had been voted by a committee of 25 men as the actress with the most "oomph" in America.

She received as many as 250 marriage proposals from fans in a single week. Tagged "The Oomph Girl"—a sobriquet which she reportedly loathed —Sheridan was a popular pin-up girl in the early 1940s. (On the other hand, a February 25, 1940, news story distributed by the Associated Press reported that Sheridan no longer "bemoaned the 'oomph' tag." She continued, "But I'm sorry now. I know if it hadn't been for 'oomph' I'd probably still be in the chorus.")

Sheridan co-starred with Dick Powell in Naughty but Nice (1939) and played a wacky heiress in Winter Carnival (1939).

She was top billed in Indianapolis Speedway (1939) with O'Brien and Angels Wash Their Faces (1939) with O'Brien, the Dead End Kids and Ronald Reagan. Castle on the Hudson (1940) put her opposite Garfield and O'Brien.

Sheridan's first real starring vehicle was It All Came True (1940), a musical comedy co starring Bogart and Jeffrey Lynn. She introduced the song "Angel in Disguise".

Sheridan and Cagney were reunited in Torrid Zone (1940) with O'Brien in support. She was with George Raft, Bogart and Ida Lupino in They Drive by Night (1940), a trucking melodrama. Sheridan was back with Cagney for City for Conquest (1941) and then made Honeymoon for Three (1941), a comedy with George Brent.

Sheridan did two lighter films: Navy Blues (1941), a musical comedy, and The Man Who Came to Dinner (1941), wherein she played a character modeled on Gertrude Lawrence. She then made Kings Row (1942), in which she received top billing playing opposite Ronald Reagan, Robert Cummings, and Betty Field. It was a huge success and one of Sheridan's most memorable films.

Sheridan and Reagan were reunited for Juke Girl (1942). She was in the war film Wings for the Eagle (1942) and made a comedy with Jack Benny, George Washington Slept Here (1943). She played a Norwegian resistance fighter in Edge of Darkness (1943) with Errol Flynn and was one of the many Warners stars who had cameos in Thank Your Lucky Stars (1943).

She was the heroine of a novel, Ann Sheridan and the Sign of the Sphinx, written by Kathryn Heisenfelt and published by Whitman Publishing Company in 1943. While the heroine of the story was identified as a famous actress, the stories were entirely fictitious. The story was probably written for a young teenaged audience and is reminiscent of the adventures of Nancy Drew. It is part of a series known as "Whitman Authorized Editions", 16 books published between 1941 and 1947 that always featured a film actress as heroine.

Sheridan was given the lead in the musical Shine On, Harvest Moon (1944), playing Nora Bayes, opposite Dennis Morgan. She was in a comedy The Doughgirls (1944).

Sheridan was absent from screens for over a year, touring with the USO to perform in front of the troops as far afield as China. She returned in One More Tomorrow (1946) with Morgan. She had an excellent role in the noir Nora Prentiss (1947), which was a hit. It was followed by The Unfaithful (1948), a popular remake of The Letter, and Silver River (1948), a Western melodrama with Errol Flynn.

Leo McCarey borrowed her to support Gary Cooper in Good Sam (1948). She was meant to star in Flamingo Road. She then left Warner Bros., saying: "I wasn't at all satisfied with the scripts they offered me."

Her role in I Was a Male War Bride (1949), directed by Howard Hawks and co-starring Cary Grant, was another success. In 1950, she appeared on the ABC musical television series Stop the Music.

She made Stella (1950), a comedy with Victor Mature at Fox.

In April 1949, she announced she wanted to produce Second Lady, a film based on a story by Eleanor Griffin. She was going to make Carriage Entrance at RKO. They fired her and Sheridan sued for $250,000.

Sheridan made Woman on the Run (1950), a noir, which she did produce. She wanted to make a film called Her Secret Diary.

Woman on the Run was distributed by Universal, and Sheridan signed a contract with that studio. While there, she made Steel Town (1952), Just Across the Street (1952), and Take Me to Town (1953), a comedy directed by Douglas Sirk.

Sheridan supported Glenn Ford in Appointment in Honduras (1953), directed by Jacques Tourneur. She appeared opposite Steve Cochran in Come Next Spring (1956) and was one of several stars in MGM's The Opposite Sex (1956). Her last film, The Woman and the Hunter, was shot in Africa.

She went to New York to appear in a Broadway show, but it did not make it to Broadway.

She did stage tours of Kind Sir (1958) and Odd Man In (1959), and The Time of Your Life at the Brussels World Fair in 1958. In all three shows, she acted with Scott McKay, whom she later married.

In 1962, she played the lead in "The Mavis Grant Story" on the Western series Wagon Train.

In the mid-1960s, Sheridan appeared on the NBC soap opera Another World.

Her final work was a TV series of her own, a comedy Western entitled Pistols 'n' Petticoats, which was filmed during the year before her death and was broadcast on CBS on Saturday nights. The 19th episode of the series, "Beware the Hangman", aired, as scheduled, on the same day that she died.

For her contributions to the motion picture industry, Ann Sheridan has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 7024 Hollywood Boulevard.

Sheridan married actor Edward Norris August 16, 1936, in Ensenada, Mexico. They separated a year later and divorced in 1939. On January 5, 1942, she married fellow Warner Bros. star George Brent, who co-starred with her in Honeymoon for Three (1941). They divorced exactly one year later. Following her divorce from Brent, she had a long-term relationship with publicist Steve Hannagan, that lasted until his death in 1953. Hannagan's estate bequeathed Miss Sheridan $218,399 ($2.1 million in current dollars). On June 5, 1966, she married actor Scott McKay, who was with her when she died, six months later.

In 1966, Sheridan began starring in a new television series, a Western-themed comedy called Pistols 'n' Petticoats. She became ill during the filming and died of gastroesophageal cancer with massive liver metastases at age 51 on January 21, 1967, in Los Angeles. She was cremated and her ashes were stored at the Chapel of the Pines Crematory in Los Angeles until they were interred in a niche in the Chapel Columbarium at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery in 2005.

#ann sheridan #classic movie stars #golden age of hollywood #old hollywood

8 notes · View notes

huilian · 4 years

Text

Old Pains

AO3 Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain

Summary:Bruce knew his would be a life of pain. From the moment he decided to do this, he knew what it would cost. His time, his body, his soul, every single thing he owned. He chose this, he knew. But pain when you receive an injury is not pain every time you breathe. It is not pain every time you walk. It is not pain every time you want to sleep and found that you can't because all those pains you have pushed away in the day and night all came back to haunt you in your sleep.

A/N:Merry Christmas, have some pain! I had the idea when my ankle was acting up, but uni life got the better of me, so it had went away, but then act up again before I post this fic. That's how long it took to write this. Sorry!

***

Bruce had quite forgotten how it felt to be painless. There was always something bothering him, treading through his consciousness. The mangled joint he called his shoulder, which was always aching. The broken spine, the one he had almost succumbed to. Broken and mended, and then re-broken bones gave phantom pain Bruce could never quite ignore completely. The hundreds upon hundreds scars decorating his skin, which either itch or returned to him the pain he got receiving them. Bruce couldn't quite decide which one was worse, the itchiness or the pain.

Bruce knew his would be a life of pain. From the moment he decided to do this, he knew what it would cost. His time, his body, his soul, every single thing he owned. He chose this, he knew. But pain when you receive an injury is not pain every time you breathe. It is not pain every time you walk. It is not pain every time you want to sleep and found that you can't because all those pains you have pushed away in the day and night all came back to haunt you in your sleep.

It will someday take his life too, this crusade of his. This he knew. It was not really something he would oppose. He knew that going in. It would take his time, his body, his soul, his life, and every single thing he owned. He would gladly give it. He knew that going in.

He did not know that there would be others that would share this pain with him.

Bruce did not know everything there is to know about Damian. It was a mistake he was trying to correct, but it was hard the way chasing a kitten is hard. The kitten itself would not come to you if he didn’t trust you, and the more you chase it, the harder it would run. Damian had not trusted Bruce, with a yet in that sentence if Bruce was feeling particularly hopeful that day. He had to keep reminding himself to let Damian come to him instead of chasing Damian around demanding answers. (It was Dick who gave him the kitten metaphor. It was very apt. It seemed that Dick knew Damian better than Bruce would ever be able to know him.)

Bruce would try this way of letting Damian take the lead for some more time, then he would go and ask Dick again. It did not seem to work, because Damian had not gone to Bruce for anything at all, not from the smallest of things to the important ones.

Like his spine. Damian’s spine.

Damian was not even twelve yet. He had not gone through puberty, had not felt the awkward changes to his own body that would make doing a simple maneuver felt like trying to juggle ten maneuvers at once. He had not even been to high school.

And yet, sometimes Bruce would find him laying down on his bed, clutching a hot compress to his back. The first few times Bruce just thought he had sprained something, and let him be. Damian did not appreciate it when you needle him with small things. But it happened again. And again. And again.

Bruce was a detective. He was good at this. He knew what repeated pain in the spine meant. He knew that Damian would be feeling this pain for the rest of his life. Bruce wished Damian would have a long life, living until all his wishes and dreams had come true, but he knew even if Damian lived a long life, this pain would haunt him for the rest of his days. And Bruce would never wish pain on any of his children.

"Damian?" Bruce asked.

"Yes, Father." Damian said. He did not offer any other information. It had been like this every time Bruce asked Damian something. Damian expects you to already know what was happening in his life, and would never offer any additional information. It didn’t help that Dick was the one caring for him before. Dick could see through Damian as easily as he could see through Bruce, and would not need any more information.

Bruce decided to go through this another way. “Have I told you the story of when I broke my back?”

That got Damian’s attention. The boy was always interested in hearing Bruce’s stories as Batman. Maybe it was because he was raised to see Batman as something that should be attained, but nevertheless, it suited Bruce’s purposes for now.

“No, Father, I believe you have not told me this story yet. I think that Mother or Grayson may have mentioned it, but I would be glad to hear the full story of it.”

Bruce sat down on the sofa, and expected Damian to do the same. He did not disappoint. Bruce watched Damian sitting down on the sofa, cataloguing every movement he makes. There is no pain, not today, at the very least. Not from recent injuries nor from old ones. No pain on Damian’s back, at least for today.

As Bruce began the story of how Bane had broken his back, and everything that entails from it, he realized that this was not the story children usually hear about their parents. Any other twelve-year-old would not be hearing about the time a criminal broke their father’s back. Any other twelve-year-old would not be taking notes on how to improve in their capabilities as a fighter from this story. But Damian was not any other twelve year olds.

It should concern Bruce that the parts he was glossing over was not the violence, nor the destruction. No. The parts that Bruce was glossing over this story was Dick and Tim’s brief partnership as Batman and Robin, because he knew that Damian would take offense in that. Damian would not be bothered by the violence, because he had lived all his life in it. He had borne the marks of that, from the way he moved, to the way he did not move. The way he would bite his tongue instead of screaming out in pain. The way he hides his pain even though it bothered him every single day.

As Bruce finished his tale, he very deliberately gave out lists of things that would lessen the pain, if not relieve if immediately. He gave out strategies to deal with back pain as a part of his story, knowing that Damian would be able to pick it up. A smart child, this one. How lucky was Bruce to be able to have him, and how it broke Bruce’s hearts that he missed ten years of Damian’s life.

When Bruce saw Damian implementing the strategies he told him in the story, he pretended not to notice. Not just because Damian would stop using that tried and true methods if he even suspected for a second Bruce would not agree with it, but because he truly did not know how to feel about it. He was glad that he could bring relief to Damian’s pain, but at the same time, a child of twelve should not be dealing with spine problems. And so Bruce pretended he didn’t notice, and made a note to keep the heat packs always stocked.

Bruce did not realize that Tim had worn his ankle brace to patrol.

Tim had periodically worn the ankle brace off and on; Bruce had expected that. Any joint that is prone to injury, yet still used again and again will need to be supported. The ankle is one, the knee is another, and yet another is the shoulder. Bruce's most painful one is mostly the shoulder, even though all of those joints hurt on a daily basis. That is why he was not surprised to see Tim sporting an ankle brace. It was easy enough to explain too, most of the active children had a brace somewhere on their body, and Tim was notoriously a skateboarder.

Tim had not skateboarded in so long, not since he became the CEO of Wayne Industries. He had not worn those ankle brace in quite some time either.

Bruce just realized that Tim had worn his ankle brace underneath his costume when he returned from patrol. It was not weird that Tim had worn it, it was weird that Bruce did not realize that as something pressing.

Had this really become their reality? Of pains and aches everywhere?

"Is your ankle okay?" Bruce asked.

Tim startled. It was as if he didn't expect Bruce to care about this. It was as if he didn't expect Bruce to care about him.

(Bruce cared. Of course he cared. It was just expressing it was sometimes difficult.)

"Yeah, it's fine. It's just acting out, you know?"

Bruce knew. He knew intimately how that felt. Bruce still wished none of his children have to feel that.

"Do you need to take a break from patrol?"

"What?" Tim genuinely sound confused. Is it that confusing for Bruce to want his children to be safe? "It's nothing Bruce, just my ankle acting up. It does that sometimes. Nothing to worry about.” Tim shrugged. “I’ll be fine. It’s not going to be a liability on patrol.”

Did Tim really think that Bruce only cared for him being a liability on patrol? Bruce just didn’t want his children to be feeling pain on a daily basis, not like he is feeling pain on a daily basis, but it seemed like all of them are. Tim, who is not out of his teens yet, who is not legally allowed to drink yet, is already feeling pain that will stay with him for the rest of his life. This was not supposed to happen. Bruce was supposed to protect them from this.

“I’ll take it easy tomorrow if you’re that worried, Bruce, but honestly, I’m fine. I’ve been having this on and off for years now. It didn’t bother me that much anymore.”

Bruce took from that sentence that it used to bother Tim, but he ignored it because he saw Bruce ignoring his own pain and thought he should too, and now it didn’t bother him anymore. It was not as reassuring as Tim no doubt meant it to be.

Bruce wanted to say so many things. Bruce wanted to keep this precious child that he had been given safe and sound. Bruce did not do any of those things. Words are not his forte, especially words filled with emotions. He could play with it just fine, could solve questions and intellectual riddles, but when it came to emotions? Bruce did what he had always done. He grunted.

Tim laughed. He honestly laughed. Why is he laughing? His safety is not a laughing matter.

“Good night, Bruce.” Tim smiled, and then he head up to the Manor, hopefully to get some sleep. He had not been sleeping enough. (Bruce is aware that he is being a hypocrite, but he is allowed to be a hypocrite if it’s for the wellbeing of his children.)

It was good to hear Tim laugh. He had not done that nearly enough too.

“Bruce!”

“Yes, Jason?” Bruce would still not be able to comprehend that his child, his Jason, is here in the Manor. He never imagined that he would be able to see Jason again, to hear him again. He never thought he’d be able to see Jason all grown up, instead of the lanky teenager he was before… Before.

It was a gift that Jason was in the Manor, because it was very rare. It was even rarer that he would walk around the way he is now. Shirtless, with his whole torso open??.

Bruce was still bitter that Jason grew up to be taller than him. Mostly because while he was a child, Jason was short. It figures that he would be the one to finally be taller than Bruce. But what really struck Bruce the most was how rigid and muscled up his boy had become. Oh, he had muscles as a child too, he wouldn’t be Robin without it, but it was not to this extent. Batman was supposed to be a shield, and so Bruce cultivated his body to be such. Broad and able to take the most damage. He did not want any of his children to make themselves to be like that too. (He did not want any of his children to make themselves take damage. He was supposed to take that damage for them.)

Nevertheless, Jason is as broad as Bruce is now. Bruce had known it, had seen Jason with this new stature that is so different yet similar to his stature as a child, but with armor and uniform on, Bruce hadn’t really registered that Jason is now very, very different than the skinny, lanky child he had been.

Bruce had also never seen the scars that littered Jason’s torso. Some of it Bruce knew he got from before Bruce had ever met him. Life on the streets in Gotham is harsh, doubly so if you are a child. Some Jason got from his tenure as Robin. Some, Bruce knew is a remnant from… the explosion. Most disturbingly, there is much more that Bruce didn’t know where those came from.

Bruce knew, or suspected, that Jason had training before he came back to Gotham. He must have. His skillset is so much more diverse and honed than it was when he was Robin. Bruce never thought about, or didn’t want to think about, what kind of training that he would have gotten.

Bruce was not a kind teacher. He knew that. He trained his children so that they could live. That result would not be from kindness. Gotham streets are not kind, and so Bruce trained them the way Gotham streets would treat them. But he was not harsh, either. He would not injure them for training purposes. Training is training, not grounds for punishment.

Jason was hurt a lot during those years he was away. That much Bruce knew. Bruce wants to go hunt out those people and make them pay, yet he knew he would never do that. (He knew once he started, he won’t stop.)

“Bruce!” A snap of fingers. “Hey, Bruce, are you listening to what I say?”

Bruce blinked. Cleared his mind. “Sorry, Jay. What were you saying?”

“Did you know where Alfred put his cleaning supplies? I spilled marinara sauce on my sweater and I need to soak it, like, now. I won’t get it out if I don’t.”

Bruce knows a lot of things, and Bruce knows most of the things in the Manor, but the location of the cleaning supplies was not a thing that he knew, or that Alfred deemed it fit to let him know. “I don’t know, Jay. Maybe ask Alfred?”

Jason scrunched up his face. It looked exactly the same as the expression he used to have as a child. “Yeah, I should have known you wouldn’t know. Should have gone to Alfred right away. See ya, B.”

As Jason walked away, still muttering under his breath, Bruce was greeted with the sight of Jason’s back, which had as many scars as Jason’s torso. Bruce wanted to ask how he got those scars. Bruce wanted to keep him safe so that there would be no more scars on Jason. Bruce wanted to ask if those scars bother him as much as Bruce’s own bothers Bruce, and Bruce wanted to share his tricks to mitigating the pain. But most of all, Bruce wanted to take all those scars and injuries, now and at the time they were inflicted, and let Jason be free of it all.

Jason being in the Manor is as rare as it is. Bruce did not want to lose that. (The last time Bruce said something Jason didn’t like, he didn’t come to the Manor for months, not even to see Alfred. Bruce did not want that to happen again.) Bruce kept his mouth shut, and watched Jason walk away from him.

Bruce would like to think he knew Dick. Bruce had spent almost half of his life with Dick, and that was the majority of Dick's life. But Bruce did not even really knew Alfred, and he had spent all of his life with him. So. He did not know Dick as well as he would have wished to.

He did not know the story of every scar on Dick's body. There was once a time that he knew that: a time when Dick would tell it excitedly to him and he would pretend not to freak out because this was a child, his child, and he had gotten hurt. Now Dick tend to hide his injuries from him, or simply disappear until that injuries had healed. Bruce knew that Dick is a more than capable vigilante, and an adult. But Bruce will never be able to see him being hurt without remembering the nine-year-old boy.

The man before him had many more scars and injuries than that nine-year-old boy.

"B, stop staring," Dick said without even removing his hands from his eyes. It was like he had a sixth sense of knowing when Bruce was staring at him. (He probably did. Bruce had stared at him for so long that he would.)

Bruce grunted.

“I’m fine, B. There’s no new injuries I’m hiding from you this time.”

This time. Bruce wished that Dick would not hide any injuries from him at all, but of course that is not what happens. Bruce grunted again.

“Ugh, fine! It’s the leg. I miscalculated someone’s weight and didn’t land as I should have. It’s fine. I’ll go and get the heat pack in a moment. I know I should have known better, and I should take more care of my leg. Just...let me stay here for a minute, okay?”

Bruce loved it that the two of them could communicate without him saying anything. Dick had been with Bruce almost from the very beginning of it all. There is no need for him to say anything. But sometimes, like now, Dick did not understand fully what Bruce meant. Bruce knew Dick was expecting a lecture on thinking before leaping, or to amp up his training as to not make anymore mistakes like this again. Bruce knew Dick interpreted his scowl as displeasure on him making a mistake.

This was not the case. Bruce’s scowl was because Dick had been hurt, again, in the crusade that was not his to begin with. Bruce wanted to say that to Dick, to let him know that he was both proud and worried about Dick’s achievements. But he will never say that, not in any foreseeable future, anyway.

So Bruce did the next best thing. He went and took the heat pack from the (very big and extensive) first aid kit, and put it on the very spot that is hurting on Dick’s leg. Bruce knew precisely where it is. That injury, and every other injuries Dick had sustained during his lengthy career as Robin, Nightwing, and Batman, were his fault, because he was the one who put Dick in that costume. If he could not stop it from happening, then Bruce would memorize every single spot that Dick, and the rest of his children, had been injured in.

(The spots that he knew of, anyway. Bruce was not so blind as to not know that there are many, many injuries his children hide from him. It broke his heart to know it.)

Then Bruce put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, and kept watch as Dick went to sleep.

“Cassandra?”

The girl in question was sitting on a bench, staring at her leg. She gave no indication that she had heard him, but Bruce was sure that she had.

So he spoke again. “Cassandra?”

When even the second mention of her name elicit no response, Bruce walked to where she was sitting and crouched in front of her. “Cassandra?”

She did not smile. She did not acknowledge him in any visible way, but he knew that she knows he is there. Her hand did not move from its position in her back.

Oh. How could he not realize that when he came in? Bruce may not know every single injury on Cass’ body, but this one is hard to miss. David Cain was lucky that Batman did not do worse to him.

Bruce lifted his hand, and slowly reached for Cass’ back, to the spot she was touching too. Cass wordlessly shifted herself to let Bruce touch it. God. She had been hurt here before, had been shot here and expected not to flinch as a girl, yet she still let herself be touched by Bruce.

Bruce let his hand stay on Cass’ back. She finally looked into Bruce’s eyes. Bruce looked back.

Moments passed. Words did not. They just looked at each other.

Then finally, Cass smiled. A small one, unlike the ones she usually give him. (Cass have multitudes of smiles, and Bruce had the biggest one directed at him. It was a privilege he knew he did not deserve.) Bruce smiled back.

Bruce knew going in that his would be a life of pain. He did not regret any of his choices that led to this life. He regretted that his children’s life would be a life of pain too.

#dc #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #cassandra cain #fic #lian writes #happy holidays everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!

39 notes · View notes

bold-moves · 4 years

Text

Better Than You Think, 001: The Dark Knight Rises.

I want to start writing out why I like some of the movies that most people hate. The narratively derivative, corny, critically panned action movies that people write off. Those are my faves. So here goes.

Not as groundbreaking as Batman Begins or as critically acclaimed as The Dark Knight, The Dark Knight Rises stands as the odd one out of Nolan’s trilogy. It has some tonal similarities and the action is equally fantastical but for whatever reason, it’s not everyone’s favorite.

It’s definitely mine though and I’m going to explain why for a bit.

I’m going to contextualize this and say, that I don’t like Batman. As a boy, I did for sure, but as I’ve grown up, I strongly believe that this guy is totally lame. Sure, singularity of purpose is admiral and I’ll give anyone that, but this dude is totally lame by my standards. He alienates his relationships, he’s totally detached from the world he’s in and his money insulates him from even his own cause. The idea that I will use my wealth and resources to strike fear into criminals is kind of an asshole way to go about it. Spider-man uses his powers to rise to the occasion of his responsibilities and Batman uses his resources to hold criminals responsible for what has happened to Gotham and had he spent his time intimidating corrupt judges and politicians instead of projecting his anger and loss on criminals, maybe the people who really have influence in the city would be galvanized and inspired to their jobs. But like the wealthy, resourceful, and privileged, they protect their own and Batman is absolving the elite with his “powers.” He’s a bit like Che Guevara to me. You have someone who comes from a wealthy background, sees the world and how fucked up it is, decides to do something about it, romanticizes his campaign, and when he’s actually in a position to make permanent change, he denies it and indulges is addictions to conflict and virtue signaling.

He also looks cool on a T-Shirt.

Enter Bane. Bane is the hero of this movie for me. He is literally from the bottom. The movie deviates from the comics which depicts Bane as a person of color from a fictional country in Latin America, whose father was a failed revolutionary that escaped the country and due to the archaic laws of the country, is forced to serve the sentence of his father. He grew up surrounded by criminals and in this basin of crime and misery, built his mind and body to rival Batman. In this prison he hears about the tales of “The Great Bat of Gotham,” the personification of his own fear of the bats infesting the prison and decides to, unlike Bruce Wayne who uses his own fear of bats to strike dread into his enemies, kill the great Bat and subdue finally his fears.

He is not inspired to project his fears and insecurities on criminals. He does not pervert his responsibilities. He targets the thing that he fears and with singularity of purpose, sets out to conquer them by any means necessary, and always with the means he’s inherited from his isolation and resolve, not his wealthy parents.

Now back to the film. Bane, is equally romantic as Bruce, but practical. This is a person of great will and with will we can cut through our human failings and rise to our great potential. He is always aware of the true nature of things and will not let money, the constructs of society or those who believe they are in power adulterate his vision. There is no second personality. No playboy. No concessions. “No one cared who I was until I put on the mask.” Unlike all of us, scrambling to be known and validated, he has given up his face and uniquely personal ambitions to become, not a superficial symbol, but an agent of change. The bringer of true justice and the vicious wind that will blow away corruption. His response to evil and crime is not a crusade to strike fear into the evil and criminal. He wishes to protect true innocence. In the movie he fights off prisoners to protect young Thalia. He wishes to defend those who truly cannot defend themselves. In the comics, His father is a coward. His mother, violated and murdered. His youth and innocence, burgled by a system that claims to bring justice but enlarges itself on the plunder of its own hypocrisy and inefficiencies. Bane purifies himself and purges his humanity to defend a principle of true justice.

This inspires me to no end. Until I saw this movie, I didn't want to get big until I saw this movie. As soon as the movie was over, I went to Walmart and bought a pull-up bar. To be so intimidating. To be so replete with resolve. To use simple and devastating speech. To place the hand on the shoulders of some tiny, self entitled money bags and ask him,”do you feel in charge?” At the time, I was working at a Japanese company, taking shit all day, struggling within the customary submissive constructs of working for a Japanese boss. I had been training in martial arts for over a decade by that time, I was bilingual, I was fucking dangerous and instead I was taking orders all day from people I could crush with my bare hands. Seeing Bane was so inspiring for me at that time. I have this need to keep driving, and fighting. To not let peace defeat me. This was something I learned from this film.

One of the other lines that really stung me was when Catwoman was urging Batman to escape the city with her, pleading, “you don’t owe these people anymore, you’ve given them everything.” To me at that time, I thought of all the placating, and self adjusting I had done to fit in. All of the time I’ve tried to make society value me. All of the time I've pleaded for love and just a chance to be happy. I was tired of working for that. I didn't owe these people anymore. When Batman responds saying “Not everything. Not yet,” I thought of a version of myself that has gone all out. A version of myself that has engaged that final gear of existing. Intense. Achieving. Severe. And this severity is something that I wanted to be associated with and I hadn’t given to the world, not yet. Over time it became less about the people and more about doing it for myself. In my recent viewing of the movie, another line has stood out to me. A concept that I think more accurately describes my current mood. While Bruce Wayne is in the prison, doing push ups, trying to regain his strength so that he can escape, a fellow prisoner asks him, “why build yourself?” and Bruce responds, “I’m not meant to die in here.” I don’t think this line was supposed to have that much of an effect but it really spoke to me this time.

I’m so driven to self overcome. I joined the army to breakdown the habits that a comfortable civilian life had infected me with and to add another element of lethality to my arsenal. I can’t stop thinking about how to improve and fortify and often people do ask me why I’m so intense. I often ask myself this as well. The idea of “not dying in here,” is the answer. “Here,” being an unrealized self. “Here,” being the prison of conditioned impulse and self sabotage. “Here,” being the pressures to be something I am not. “Here,” is being content, agreeable,and submissive. “Here,” is the prison of weakness and the suppression of heroic ideals. I build myself so that I can escape all debilitating humanity.

So this movie, although not as revered as the other two Batman movies, is a banger and filled with the “hard-style”, self-overcoming concepts that give me the chills. I always come back to this film when I need inspiration and a kick in the ass. I invite you to take a deeper look at what's going on. Take a chance on a line of dialogue and think about it a bit and if you find yourself on the bandwagon of disliking or liking something because everyone else does, ask yourself,

“Do you feel in charge?”

#movie analysis

6 notes · View notes

hypexion · 4 years

Text

A Pile of Fanwalkers (Part 1)

The setting of Magic: The Gathering is one where you can create as many fun fan characters as you want and it’s feasible that they’d never interact with canon characters. So here’s a bunch of them, escaping from my imagination into this post. There is probably a better way to deliver this information, but efficacy is overrated. But there’s no better time, because it’s “Fan Character February“.

The basic format for each planeswalker will be a Name/Colour Identity/Pre-Ignition Typeline/Homeplane blob of information, a quickish description of them and some “fun“ facts, and then some hits and misses for extra flavour. Also, I’m going to split this into three posts - “Heroic“, “Okay“ and “Villians“, for I believe I have the moral authority to judge my creations.

Also some of these are going to be from fanplanes, which will go undescribed beyond whatever tidbits come out the character flavour. Others will just have a ?, representing a lack of knowledge and/or sufficent worldbuilding. With that out of the way, let’s go!

Heroic

Using a somewhat loose definition of heroic, these are the planeswalkers that when presented with an injustice, will at least attempt to help. Even if it’s against their better judgement.

Alagard - UR, Human Artificer, Orpheri - As a self styled “Mirror Magus“, Alagard has turned his skill for magical analysis into a method of acquiring knowledge that others would consider out of reach. From simple cantrips, to complex feats of sorcery, there’s no spell Alagard won’t try to copy or take apart at least once. When he’s not commiting “theft of intellectual property“, as the Azorius call it, he might actually be doing his job as an Artificer, constructing various tools used to navigate between the realms of Orpheri. Or he might have found himself in a situation that requires some kind of outside intervention and impulsively intervened. It keeps happening, and once you’ve committed, you’ve got to see the problem through, right?

Alagard has white skin and short blonde hair. When working, he wears the traditional artifacer get-up - protective robes, gloves and safety accessories. Otherwise, he prefers a slightly more elaborate outfit, including a fancy blue long coat with a few too many silver frills. He also carries a Mirrorblade, an enchanted weapon capable of shifting into a multitude of other weapons. It’s pretty handy. When Alagard planeswalks, he seems to shimmer away, flaking off small, short-lived pieces of reflective material.

Hits: Finding new magic, solving problems, fancy coats. Misses: The Queen of Fate interfering with his life, mortal peril.

Heru - URW, Bird Warrior, Amonkhet - As you might guess from his homeplane, pre-ignition life for Heru could have been better. This falcon-aven always had a keen eye for detail, a talent for seeing through deception, and a tad more curiosity than was perhaps safe on Amonkhet. However, even with his growing doubt, he followed the path laid out for him by the gods. When the time came, he passed the Trials of Solidarity, Knowledge and Strength. Many from his crop did not. He might even have passed Zeal, if not for Bontu, the worse of the gods. The pointless brutality of the Trial of Ambition brought Heru’s crisis of faith to it’s peak, a thousand quiet doubts awoken by the senseless slaughter. For many, such a crisis had lead to a quick death. But Heru had a Spark, and it carried him far from Amonkhet. Now, inspired by some owl-aven he met after his first planeswalk, he seeks wisdom from across the multiverse, and wishes to create a better tomorrow.

Heru has light brown skin and brown feathers. Despite leaving his home in a less than pleasant way, he still wears the warrior’s clothing of those who take the trials. However, as he visits more planes and encounters new cultures, he has started to replace the gilded symbology of the God-Pharaoh with simpler patterns he finds appealing. Heru weilds a spear as his weapon of choice, and has recently discovered a talent for pyromancy, although he is hesitant to use it. Heru’s planeswalking effect is burst of golden flame, which occasionally leaves behind a few feathers.

Hits: Philosophy, a target from up to 100 meters, Nicol Bolas’ death, the absolute certainty that Bolas is dead, the lack of possibility that Bolas could return in any way, shape, or form. Misses: Bontu, the false God-Pharaoh knows as Nicol Bolas, large bodies of water, his own attempts at self-delusion regarding what he saw on Ravnica.

Locke - WU, Human Advisor, Noyir - Crime is a problem on many planes, and Noyir is no exception. In fact, it’s starting to get a little dire. Demons run the mob, the proliferation of magical weapons is out of control, and the serial killers seem to be especially nasty. Enter one Sebastian Locke, who has the tremendously useful ability of post-cognition, which allows him to view the recent past of places and objects. Armed with this, and a grab-bag of forensics magic, Locke is ready to take on any case, and won’t rest until the truth is discovered. He’s tangled with the Infinite Consortium, the Ozhov Syndicate, and many other sinisterly name organisations, along with a number of the multiverse’s most dangerous killers. He’s also convinced that Dack Fayden isn’t dead, but I suppose you can’t be always right all the time. (Or he knows something the rest of us don’t. Dack was in deep with the Ozhov, after all...)

Locke has black skin and black hair. He has the look of the classic detective, including the whole trench coat and fedora outfit. Since Locke is actually a detective, and visits a tailor, he looks pretty good in the whole get-up. While he keeps to the traditional drab colours on his homeplane, Locke has a rainbow’s worth of alternate outfits, for when he needs to fit in on another plane. Locke also carries a weapon that is certainly not a handgun, because it uses magic. (He’s from the gritty crime drama plane. It’s a gun.) When planewalking, Locke disappears into a swirl of grey fog, which quickly dissippates. Notably, this action takes him less than a second, making it an effective escape tactic.

Hits: Outwitting criminals, unravelling conspiracies, coffee, due process, elaborate crime boards. Misses: Serial killers, assassins, murderers and blackmailers, police corruption (of both the “taking bribes” and “magically becoming a demon” kinds).

Loxy - RW, Elephant Warrior, ? - Needless to say, Loxy’s name isn’t actually Loxy. It’s short for something. But when she points out that humans can be called Hugh, are you going to argue with the Loxodon who’s likely bigger than you, and carrying a war mace? Probably not. Of course, Loxy probably won’t smack your head clean off, provided you’re not some sort of evil-doer. She’s actually pretty nice, if a little over-enthusiastic some of the time, once you get to know her. Loxy is on a crusade against injustice, to right the wrongs of the multiverse and ensure worlds where the peaceful can live in peace. Many cruel and vile beings have met their end at Loxy’s hand, and I won’t mince words: all of them deserved it. Others have decided that reform is the greater part of not getting crushed by a Loxodon, and gone on to be nicer people.

Loxy has grey skin, because she’s a Loxodon, and whatever kind of hair Loxodon have. Loxy can generally be found wearing her armor, which she keeps polished and clean, in order to make a good first impression. As mentioned before, her primary weapon is a mace, but when you’re an almost eight foot tall elephant-person with foot long tusks, you never need to rely on a primary weapon. When not dressed up for battle, Loxy prefers to wear simple robes, just in case a fight breaks out. Somewhat surprisingly, Loxy’s planewalking aura is fairly subtle. She glows for a moment, before disappearing, leaving behind small balls of light.

Hits: Justice, stopping evil, can-do attitudes, the general concept of the Gatewatch. Misses: Injustice, the unrepentant, those who accept an unjust world as “natural“ and so refuse to seek improvement.

Velos - GU, Elf Shapeshifter Wizard, Ravnica - Have you ever head the story of Velos the wise? No? I thought not. It’s not a story the Conclave would tell you - he’s a Simic Legend. Velos has the power to manipulate biomancy to take on any form he wishes, even ones that are “decidedly male”. His ultimate goal was to be able to mantain a form indefinitely, which eventually, he achieved. Now Velos mentors promising biomancers in the ways of shapeshifting. He’s also taken up cataloguing some of the multiverse’s most adaptive species, which rather worryingly includes Slivers. Additionally, he has also pioneered several shapeshifting based treatments, to help those who need their bodies reworked. Velos is, at heart, a healer, and will offer help to anyone he encounters who may need it. He believes that everyone should be able to live their lives in good health, in the form that they find best fits them. On occation, this has brought him into conflict with some Simic factions, especially those who ignore the rather important factor of “informed consent.“

Velos’ prefered form is that of an elf, with pale skin and equally pale blonde hair. Many have noted that this gives him a strong resemblance to the elves of the Selesnya Conclave, although few really care. Those attempting to investigate his background do not get far, as the Combine wishes to focus on the future, and the Conclave would never admit that someone may have left them. Velos does not carry weapons, preferring to save carrying capacity for a portable laboratory, since he can’t take samples back to Ravnica from other planes. He also doesn’t really need any, since he’s long since mastered the art of transforming himself claws, spines, chitinous plating and other offensive and defensive body parts. While he hasn’t reached the fluidity of a naturally born shapeshifter yet, Velos is still capable of rearranging himself to multitude of forms, with very little delay. When planeswalking, he disappears into double-helix of blue-green light.

Hits: Discovering new species, the endless convience of your hand being a multi-tool, trans rights, a kind of tea that only grows on Kamigawa. Misses: Not being able to grow that tea on Ravnica, the concept of a “true form“, walking into things because he shapeshifted in a weird way.

Look at all these nice people. All of them would probably be into Gatewatching except maybe Velos. He’s more into providing medical care, as opposed to the Gatewatch’s more active form of heroism. Next up will be people who are still ‘nice‘, but in a generally more passive or distracted way.

#fanwalker #magic the gathering #fan character february

12 notes · View notes