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adobe-outdesign · 3 years ago

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Pokemon Worldbuilding Headcanons

Exactly what it says in the title. Some are based on the game, some on the anime, and some directly contradict both because the Pokemon lore is made up and your feelings don’t matter.

Biology

Pokemon heal faster when unconscious or asleep--thus, they faint easily from pain or exhaustion in order to recuperate.

During evolution, a Pokemon converts itself into energy and reforms itself. Evolution is optional, and a Pokemon can choose if and when it evolves. Evolution is triggered by both an environmental circumstance (ex: winning a battle), and by the Pokemon storing up energy over time until it has enough to transform.

Stress evolutions are when a Pokemon evolves prematurally in order to win a battle or when they’re in a life-or-death situation. This can result in the evolution being smaller than normal and possibly weaker as well.

“Trade evolutions” are a loose grouping of Pokemon that typically evolve when they start working with a new trainer. The exact reasons for the evolution varies by individual, and therefore can have multiple causes.

Ex: a Pokemon may evolve after it learns something from someone else. While the easiest way to achieve this is through trade, they may also evolve by training under a wiser, older Pokemon.

Trade evolutions are somewhat rare in the wild, but not unheard of.

Pokemon that evolve via stones cannot store enough energy to evolve naturally. The stones contain extra energy that they can tap into in order to aid in evolution.

Everstones work similar to sponges; they absorb the extra energy a Pokemon would normally store up to evolve, thus preventing them from doing so. They’re mostly used for medical purposes (as a Pokemon evolving when badly injured could worsen its injuries) and to help prevent stress evolutions in Pokemon that don’t want to evolve.

Pokemon types are based on the type of energy they utilize, rather than moves or appearance. Ex: Charizard is not dragon-type despite looking like a dragon because it doesn’t use dragon-type energy. New energies are discovered all the time and Pokemon are reclassified as needed.

Pokemon typing also changes as they (Darwinian) evolve. A Pokemon that’s normal/grass used to be normal-type, has started to gain grass-typing, and will eventually be only grass-type.

Humans are descended from Pokemon. They used to be psychic-type before becoming normal-type and then losing their typing all together. At this point they no longer are energy-based nor do they lay eggs, so they’re considered a separate-but-related family.

This is why some people still show psychic powers; those abilities never completely went away in some bloodlines.

Pokemon have been domesticated for so long that there’s actually no such thing as a “wild” Pokemon anymore (with the exception of legendaries). Wild Pokemon are technically feral, and any given Pokemon will quickly adapt to living with humans if caught.

Pokemon used to look different hundreds of years ago, and have slowly undergone Darwinian evolution over time as they were domesticated.

“Most trainers will legendaries shortly after their journey starts” statistic false. Most trainers will see no legendaries in their lifetimes. Ash Ketchum, who’s seen every single legendary in existence, is an outlier and should not be counted

However, areas where legendaries are known to live are oftentimes marked as no-catch conservation areas. People will oftentime travel to these parks to admire “common” legendaries (such as the bird trio) in their natural habitats.

Battles

Not knocking out a Pokemon you’re trying to capture is more of a honored rule than a law. The reason it’s done is to give the Pokemon ample time to flee--otherwise, someone may one-shot a Pokemon that doesn’t want a trainer, resulting in the Pokemon being unfairly knocked out and the trainer wasting their time.

If you give the Pokemon time to flee and it chooses to stay and fight, it’s potentially interested in accepting you as a trainer and you just have to prove yourself. If it flees, you should leave it alone.

Pokemon used for battles are specifically trained to not cause permanent harm or injury to their opponents (ex: that fire blast isn’t as hot as it could be, so it’ll only cause minor burns instead of third-degree ones). While the attacks used might look violent and cause some pain, serious injuries are very rare.

Wild Pokemon are also pretty good at restraining themselves if they’re just battling for fun or to test a trainer. They will not, however, restrain themselves if they feel threatened or are hunting. Trainers are advised to use caution when fighting wild Pokemon and return their Pokemon to their balls if necessary.

Psychic-types (Mr. Mime especially) are used to create protective barriers around arenas/trainers to protect people from flying debris and stray attacks.

Refs always have a few Pokemon on hand that know moves like stun spore or sleep powder in order to stop any fights that get out of hand.

Pokeballs

While some trainers different Pokemon by using different types of Pokeballs, decorating them is also a popular way to do it. Some people draw symbols or initials on the buttons, some add stickers, some paint them, ect.

Stores also sell semi-transparent hard shells that snap over the balls. These come in different colors and designs, so you can have a Pokeball that has a galaxy design on top instead of plain red if you want.

Most trainers keep about 40 some Pokemon or less, which they rotate between their party, the PC, and daycares/Pokemon sitters to keep them enriched and active. Some people keep more, but they generally spend all of their time caring for them and therefore aren’t trainers.

The general rule of thumb is to not leave a Pokemon in the PC for more than two weeks. If you fail to take them out after a month, they will be automatically removed and released back into the wild.

Pokeballs create little miniature simulations of nature, making them feel bigger on the inside. Different types of pokeballs have different or more advanced simulations, which may increase how much a Pokemon likes being in it.

Pokeballs create an invisible “tag” for the Pokemon by altering their energy when they’re first caught. These tags affect nothing, but Pokeballs are programmed to automatically check for one before they’ll activate.

Many poachers and other illegal groups produce their own illegal Pokeballs that do not check for tags before capture.

If a Pokeball breaks, it automatically releases the Pokemon inside and removes their tag.

Tags fade after about a month to allow for other trainers to capture a Pokemon after it’s been permanently released. The tag is automatically refreshed every time a Pokemon is brought back into its ball.

The standard Pokeball pattern is based off of the patterns of the Foongus line. Pokemon are very attracted to their markings, so the balls are painted the same to make the Pokemon like them more.

Eggs

Rather than combining genetics, Pokemon reproduce by combining their energy together (this looks a bit like two Pokemon evolving at the same time). Because of this, they lack reproductive organs and chromosomes.

Gender is a loosely defined concept for them. Pokemon can change their sex upon evolution if they want to, and some will change their sex over time (ex: legendaries are usually genderless, but will gain a sex to breed and then lose it again afterward).

If a Pokemon doesn’t display sexual dimorphism, the only way to determine their sex is to have a Pokemon Center do a blood test.

Eggs aren’t laid, but created. The pregnant Pokemon fosters energy in their body. When ready they separate the extra energy from themselves (once again, looks a bit like evolution), which forms into the egg. This causes them no pain, and means they have short gestation periods.

This also means Pokemon never look pregnant. The only way to tell is by getting them tested or paying attention to changes in behavior. Many trainers end up with eggs out of nowhere because they had no idea one of their Pokemon was pregnant to begin with.

In the wild, some species of Pokemon will lay hundreds of eggs (such as fish and bug Pokemon) to ensure their survival. In captivity, Pokemon rarely create more than 1 or 2 eggs at a time, likely because they understand their young are safe with their trainers.

Pokemon develop more quickly in their eggs than IRL animals. They can technically hatch shortly after the egg is made, but they usually spend extra time inside maturing. By the time the egg hatches, the baby already has fur/feathers/whatever, and can walk and eat solid food. This helps ensure their survival against predators.

Young Pokemon are differentiated by being “mature” or “immature”; an immature Pokemon will still gradually grow and change appearance, while a mature one is fully grown until it evolves. A Pokemon cannot evolve until it’s considered mature (excluding mega evolution for single-stagers).

To use Vulpix as a canon example: a newly hatched immature Vulpix is about 8 in tall and has one white tail. A mature Vulpix is about 2 ft tall and has six red tails.

In the wild, Pokemon mostly breed amongst their own species. The exception are Pokemon with uneven gender ratios (so if a Pokemon is 7:1 male vs female, the males will actively breed with anything in their egg group). Inter-species breeding among captive Pokemon is much more common, and usually based on the Pokemon’s personal preferences.

Hybridization in Pokemon born from two different parents is very rare, but it does happen from time to time. It’s more common in Pokemon that look similar or are distantly related.

“Perfect” hybrids, Pokemon that have equal amounts of traits from both parents as well as typing and abilities, are more sought after than shinies. They usually can’t breed due to their mix of energies.

#pokemon #pkmn #pokemon headcanons #outdesign posts things #outdesign has headcanons #god I hope this is somewhat coherent #I tried to stick the lore to some extent but the lore is also. kind of a mess

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ananicoleta · 3 years ago

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Together Again

(A Space Jam 2 FanFiction)

Ok, so I imagine that after Bugs "died" in Space Jam 2, he didn't show up immediately. Instead, there were needed a few days for him to reappear, time during which the Looney Tunes thought he was dead. This fic shows their thoughts during that time, as well as a surprise at the end.

Enjoy!

WARNING: angst + kinda long

Daffy crept around the forest, always looking over his shoulder to make sure no one had followed or seen him. Not that it was very likely to happen. None of the Looney Tunes paid that much attention to anyone or anything anymore, so his absence would probabpy go unnoticed. All of them - him included - were trapped in their own thoughts and regrets, and the outside world just didn't matter anymore. The dynamic, the jokes, the atmosphere weren't - couldn't - be the same. Not ever since Bugs had...

Shaking his head, the duck snapped out of the thought that threatened to cloud his mind with pain and fog his eyes with tears. He had promised himself he won't let that happened. Just focus on the road, Daffy. You're almost there.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he reached his destination. The glade he knew so well looked just the way it did when he had left. The fresh grass, wet from the rain, shone into the sunlight as if it was made of cristal. The lively river cut its path through the strong rocks, running like a carefree child, while the birds happily sang their lovely tune.

Right in the middle of the glade, stood the well-known oak tree, tall as always, like a nobleman, proudly wearing its green attire. On the trunk, there could be spotted a poster that read: Duck Season. That was what Daffy was looking for.

He walked quietly towards it, still paranoic that someone might be there and see him. They for sure would ask him what was he doing and, honestly, he didn't know either. All he knew was that if he stayed one more minute alone in his house, trying to not think about Bugs, while automatically thinking about Bugs and missing him dearly, he'd go insane. He needed to feel the taste of their old game again, even if he had to play it all by himself.

Standing near the tree, he took a deep breath and began.

"Wabbit stheason!" He said, ripping the Duck Season poster.

Then, moving to the side opposite to him, he said in a quite accurate Bugs Bunny impression.

"Duck season!"

After, Daffy moved to the other side again and repeated the procedure. This went on for a while and it was, surprisingly, relaxing. It took his mind off of things and if he pretended hard enough, he could actually see and hear Bugs...

"Daffy?"

The duck slipped and fell right in the pile of posters that he had torn. When he lifted his head, he saw none other than Elmer Fudd, looking down at him, confused. He wore his usual clothes, complete with the hat and hunting gun.

"Didn't your mother tell you it wasth rude to sthcare people?" Daffy snapped, getting back on his feet.

"Sowwy, didn't mean to cweep up on you, duck." Elmer said apologetically. Then, peeking at the pile of sheets behind Daffy, he asked.

"Uh, what were you doing hewe?"

"I could ask you the sthame question." Daffy responded, not wanting to explain himself.

Elmer sighed and sat on the grass, his expression turning sad. In that moment, Daffy realised that the reason the hunter decided to come in this specific glade was the same as his.

Sighing as well, the duck sat down near his friend, feeling the depression taking control of him again. None of them spoke for a few minutes. They just sat there in silence, listening to the forest's whispers that seemed to mourn as well, as if it could feel someone was absent.

"You miss him as well, don't you?" Daffy asked after a while.

Elmer nodded. "I nevew thought I would miss him so much. He always annoyed me, always made me cuwse him. Now, though, I would give anything to heaw him again, to do pway 'Wabbit Season! Duck Season! Fiwe' just one mowe time..."

Elmer let out a stranggled sob and Daffy bit back his tears. If he had known that a few months ago would be the last time he, Elmer and Bugs would go through their hunting routine, he wouldn't have left, no matter what Al-G Rythim would have promised him. He would have listened and stood by the rabbit's side. But he was too selfish, as usual. He wanted to spread his wings, to be the hero of his own story and didn't care when Bugs practically begged them all to not go. And now it was too late. The rabbit was dead and there was nothing he or anyone could do.

Looking over at Elmer, he saw tears falling down his cheeks. Daffy extended his hand and gently wiped them away, ignoring how wet his own eyes were getting.

"Come on, Fuddsey." He said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go home and do something else. There's nothing for us here, anymore. Maybe we can help Granny with that big dinner she wanted to prepare for all of us."

And with that, the two left the glade that held so many happy memories, never looking back, afraid that they might get a glimpse of the past, one that would make them lose their composures completely.

/////////

Porky walked through Tune Town, making his way to Granny's house. He had recieved a message that morning from her that kindly asked him if he wanted to come over and help her make a delicious meal for the family, since cooking alone was a bit depressing.

Although she didn't say it, he could tell from her tone that the reason she wanted him near was so she wouldn't have the opportunity to think about Bugs. Who could blame her? None of them wanted to think of Bugs. And they all tried so hard not to.

The pairs of enemies, like Road Runner and Wile E., Sylvester and Tweety, Foghorn Leghorn and Barnyard, went right back to chasing and teasing each other, though Porky could see the lack of energy and how forced it looked. Toons like Yosemite Sam, Marvin and Speedy were always away, probably somewhere where there was just them alone and their thoughts, where no one could bother them. Then there were the ones like Garnny, himself and occasionaly Pepe Le Pew and Penelope, that tried to cheer them all up, while they themselves were almost dead on the inside.

And it hurt a lot. It hurt to look at their dishearted family, trying to do anything in order to forget, even for a moment, that Bugs was dead. It hurt to feel so powerless to put an end to their pain, to hear them crying their hearts out, knowing that no matter what he said, it won't make a difference. It hurt to see them separated and not wanting to interact with anybody.

This was the main reason Granny had proposed the dinner.

At first, he didn't think it was such a good idea, but then he figured that they couldn't just stay in their houses forever, watching time fly by, grieving their friend. As painful as it was, he knew he had to put it all behind him and accept that they would never see Bugs again. If only they wouldn't have left...

"Hi, Porky." Came a voice from nearby.

Wipping his eyes quickly, Porky greeted his friends as well.

"H-Hi, Da-Da-Daffy. And hello, Elm-Elmer, t-too."

Seeing the black duck and the toon human cheered him up a bit. His family always managed to do that.

"Whe-where you guys o-off t-t-t, uh, going?"

"We thought we might stop at Gwanny's and hewp her with the cooking." Elmer said.

"Oh, re-really? Th-That's great, 'cause I was he-hea-heading there a-as we-we-we, uh, too."

As they walked down the road they continued to chat about this and that, just for the sake of making conversation and not walking in silence. They climbed the hill that led to the valley full of nice, suburban houses, meaning they were almost at Granny's.

When they made it to the top, Porky simply glanced in to the distance... and his heart caught in his throat. Stopping dead in his tracks, causing his other two friends to bump into him, he stared forward convinced that his eyes must be playing tricks on him.

"Hey, what gives, Pig?" An annoyed Daffy asked.

Seeing as Porky didn't answer, they followed his startled gaze, and saw exactly what had caused the pig to react like that.

Down in the valley, right near the entrance of Tune Town, there was a silhouette walking towards the suburbs. It might've been just a trick of the light, or maybe a product of their grief-struck minds, but the creature (that also appeared to have grey fur and long ears) looked an awful lot like...

"BUGS!" Daffy shouted and before one of them could do something, the duck broke into a run, all while screaming the rabbit's name at the top of his lungs.

The silhouette also started running, and in less than ten seconds, the two crashed, warping their arms around each other in a tight hug.

At that moment, Porky felt an uncontrolable smile spread across his face. All the negative feelings that had polluted his mind until then, evaporated. Instead, his heart swelled with pure and utter happiness. He also heard Elmer repeating over and over, excitedly:

"He's awive! Gwacious, he's awive!"

Letting out a joyous laugh, both of them ran as fast as they could, to hug their brothers.

Behind them, the rest of the family, that had probably heard the noise and came to see what was happening, shouted with surprise and glee, and ran right after them.

Slowly, one by one, every Looney Tune joined them in a giant, family hug that warmed their hearts and casted off their sadness.

Finally, they were all together again, and they were never ever separating.

#looney tunes #bugs bunny #elmer fudd #porky pig #daffy duck

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black-emporium-exchange · 3 years ago

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How to sign up for Black Emporium!

Yes sweet nuglets, it's that time of year again: Time to sign up for Black Emporium!

CLICK HERE TO SIGN-UP!

Helpful Links:

How to Guide || Requests on Ao3 || Tagset || Nominations Spreadsheet || Request Database || Parent Collection (All Past Years)

Main hubs:

@black-emporium-exchange || black_emporium @ Dreamwidth || blackemporiumex on Twitter || AO3 Subcollection || Discord

Signups end: July 17, 2021 @ 8:00PM EDT || Countdown

CHANGES THIS YEAR

- We now have a brand new Request Database this year! Unlike previous years where mods had to hand copy requests into a separate Google Doc, the Database will automatically populate who and what people are requesting. (Should come in handy when writing treats or looking for inspiration.)

A STEP-BY-STEP GUIDE TO SIGN-UPS BELOW THE CUT:

1. Sign in to Ao3

If you don’t have an Ao3 account, contact the mods for help!

2. Go to the Black Emporium signup field (link)

3. Scroll to the “Requests” field

There are several different components of this field:

Relationship:

Additional Tags: You can request fanfic, fanart, or both. Selecting "any" is treated the same as selecting both.

Letter: If you have written a letter on an external website (such as Tumblr/Wordpress/Dreamwidth/Google Docs), you may link it here.

Description: Here is where you can provide additional detail about what you would like to see in a fanwork, both in general and for specific pairings. Good things to include (in this box, a letter, or both) are general likes and dislikes, preferred content rating, and Do Not Wants. Please remember to put your DNW's (do not wants) in the Ao3 sign up form - we can only take action if you put your DNW in your Ao3 sign-up form because it is the only thing we can absolutely guarantee that your creator will be able to access.

Remember that anyone who creates fanwork for you must respect your Do Not Wants. If you do not enter anything into this box, and you do not have a link to a letter, we will assume that means you are okay with anything for the specified pairing(s). If you have any preferences or things you do not want, we would encourage you to add them. It makes the process smoother for all involved.

Here are some things commonly put in the description box:

Likes/Wants:

- Frequently it can be considered helpful to your author or artist if they have some idea of what you like to see, and what you don't. For example:

I love F!Adaar/Sera because I think the idea of them merrily pranking their way around Skyhold is so much fun. Please don't write me something sad about them.

Do Not Wants:

- Stuff that makes you uncomfortable, or just plain stuff that is Not Your Thing. While the Black Emporium does not believe in kink shaming or otherwise insulting people for their own personal taste, we do want people to let their artists or authors know what their limits are. You don't have to give any reasons for this; "no x/y/z" gives your creator plenty of info to discern where your limits are.

We can only take action if someone writes you something against your DNWs if it is in your sign-up.

Prompts:

Prompts can be just about anything, but they're meant to be ideas that you'd like to see that can help give your artist or author something to work off of. Sometimes this can be a prompt or a question you'd like explored (for example: What if Solas found himself falling for M!Trevelyan? How would he feel about potentially falling for a human?) or an idea you'd love to see (Josie and M!Cadash snuggled up in front of a fire, please!) or just a few words of inspiration (Leliana/Josephine - secrets, lies, ravens).

Details about your character(s):

It is fairly common for people to give basic descriptions of their characters if it is a character where their appearance or personality may vary (ex: Wardens/Hawkes/Inquisitors), particularly if fanart is requested. These descriptions can be very basic indeed (ex: purple hawke), or extremely detailed (ex: This is Celeste Trevelyan, she loves her squad more than life itself, pink hair, dusky-rose skin, built like she could bench press you six ways from sunday).

Bucket Requests:

You may also use the description field to note additional pairings that you would be willing to receive. You may find this option helpful if you are willing to consider different Warden or Inquisitor backgrounds for your specified pairing that have been nominated. You are limited to an additional ten pairings specified in this manner. Please fill out the form entirely before filling in pairings manually in the description; those that you fill in in the relationship field (the first 30) will take priority.

Things you should not put in the description field:

“I would like anything but nasty [kink]. I think people who write that are gross and nasty.”

Please do not insult people who like something you dislike. It’s Not For You, and That’s Okay. “No [kink]” expresses this much better than a long explanation of why you don’t like [kink].

“I’m only choosing this to get to three nominations. Please don’t write it.”

While we know someone who signs up for a, b and z may want a and/or b more than z, but please don’t scream to your author or artist that what you may well match on is something you don’t want as much as other pairings. Writing something like this also reduces your chance at treats as well.

“Even though I said I wanted M!Solavellan, I’m fine with F!Solavellan too if you like that better.”

Please don’t tell people that you’d be alright with non-nominated pairings, as fics with only non-nominated pairings cannot be added to the collection.

Minimums and Maximums in Requests:

You are required to fill out a minimum of three request fields (Required: Relationship, Additional Tags; Optional: Letter, Description). Remember that you may put in one OR two relationships per request field, so the maximum number of pairings that you can list in this manner is thirty. Remember also that you must fill out at least 3 request fields, so if you fill 2 out with 3 requests in each "request box", Ao3 will still want you to add one more -- it's a good rule of thumb to fill at least three out with one request, then double up as you wish.

4. Continue to the “Offers” field

There are several different components of this field:

Relationship:

Enter one, two, or three approved relationships that you would like to see in a fanwork created for you. This field will autosuggest approved pairings. If your pairing does not show up, it may be that you have fallen victim to a known bug of Ao3's that we cannot fix, wherein pairings in a tagset do not autofill. If this happens, simply type it in as it appears in the tagset. If it continues to give an error, please drop us a comment with the pairing so we can figure out what's going on. You also have the option to select any relationship.

By selecting “Any Relationship,” that means that you are willing to write or draw fanwork for, literally, ANY of the approved pairings.

The only limitation we will accept will be be a limitation of what category of relationship you want to create for: eg, Any F/F, Any M/M, Any F/M, Any Multi, Any Other, or Any Nonbinary. Anything else WILL BE REJECTED. You may NOT use this option to say, for example, “Any Cullen pairing”. This option is for any and all of the approved pairings in your designated category/categories. Do not use this option unless you are sure that any is truly what you want.

Additional Tags:

You can offer to create fanfic, fanart, or both. Selecting "any" is treated the same as selecting both.

Comments for mods:

Here is where you can provide additional detail about what you will and won’t create. As with your requests, you can provide general likes and dislikes as well as things that you absolutely will not do. If there is someone signed up you absolutely cannot stand, please write "don't match me to x" here; we won't ask details, we just won't match and this will be a fully confidential field. If you hate nugs, put it here, and we'll make sure you get at least one nug-free prompt and, ideally, a nug-free sign-up. We want you to have an assignment you'll be happy about, so if you've got something that would be triggering for you to create for, let us know. We can only take action based on our own knowledge, so the more information we have the better we can try to match you with what you really want. If you do not enter anything into this box, we will assume that means you are okay with anything for the specified pairing(s) selected. If you have any preferences or do not wants, we would encourage you to add them. It makes the process smoother for all involved. None of the mods will blab over whatever you write; we just want you to have the best time possible with your assignment.

Minimums and Maximums in Offers:

You are required to fill out a minimum of three offer fields (Required: Fandom, Relationship, Additional Tags; Optional: Comments to mods). Remember that you may put in one or two relationships per request field, so the maximum number of pairings that you can list in this manner is twenty. Remember also that you must fill out at least 3 offer fields, so if you fill 2 offer fields out with 2 offers in each "box", Ao3 will still want you to add one more offer field even though you have one over the minimum required amount of offers -- it's a good rule of thumb to fill at least three offer fields, each with one offer, then go back and double up or not, as you wish.

Bucket Offers:

You may also use the comments to mod field to note additional pairings that you would be willing to write if you have already filled thirty slots. You may find this option helpful if you are willing to consider different Warden or Inquisitor backgrounds for your specified pairing. You are limited to an additional ten pairings specified in this manner. Once again, those filled in the actual relationship: tags will take priority over those written in, so choose which pairing goes where carefully!

A Note on Matching

Black Emporium runs on OR matching, which means that you will match on one relationship out of the ones that you offer and request. You are guaranteed to match on ONE relationship; you may match on more, you may not. For your assignment, you can write what you matched on OR you can write any other couple on their sign-up form. You will only have to write or draw for ONE request, not all of them. The minimums will be one piece of artwork or one 1,000 word fic.

#be_2021 #be_signups #be_announcements #be_rules

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rikumorimachisgirl · 4 years ago

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Title: Eyes on you

Pairing: Shaw x You

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2,901

A/N: You (Y/N) are not the MC in MLQC. This is a plunny that's been bugging me for quite a while, I had to write it. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own MLQC or its characters, but I do own the concept of this fic.

There were a few mysteries in this world that the esteemed Archeology Graduate Professors at Loveland University can't explain - for instance, the formation of the Stonehenge, the exact location of the lost city of Atlantis, the origin of the Nazca lines… and your presence at the Metro Art Gala dressed to the nines, positively gleaming as you strode arm in arm with your classmate and Thesis partner Shaw, who seemed like the perfect gentleman that evening. Thanks to your work at the Loveland Museum, you scored two invites to the gala featuring the recently discovered works of a well-known artist - an event any Archeology fanatic wouldn't let pass. The two of you walked along with LFG's Exhibition Hall, pausing occasionally to admire one of the recently discovered sculptures by the Renaissance artist D'Romani. As you both looked at the intricacies of the artwork in front of you, your charming companion would lean in slightly and whisper something in your ear, causing you to roll your eyes or stifle a giggle.

To the guests in the prestigious gala, the two of you looked like two young people at the cusp of falling in love, but the members of the Faculty of the Graduate School of Archeology saw it differently - this was a real-life mystery if they'd seen one.

As your eyes swiftly swept through the entire room, you could see that your professors only had one question in mind - how'd this happen? How did two people as different as day and night, who argued with each other throughout Graduate studies, end up amiably enjoying each other's company tonight?

You drew a sharp breath and sighed. The answer was simple: Your Thesis defense was right around the corner. You needed him to cooperate, you were willing to go to great lengths to make it happen. And your Thesis partner (unfortunately) was ready to take full advantage of the situation.

***

"Tell me why we're doing this again, " you said through the door that separated you and your date, as you were putting on the dress you bought (or invested on, as he casually stated) for tonight's gala, which he insisted on attending with you. It was six in the evening on a Friday, and you had just arrived home after cramming your workload at the Loveland Museum and foregoing your meal breaks just so you could leave work at exactly five-thirty.

"I already told you a couple of times - you want me to cooperate with you so you can pass our Thesis, and I need a reason to be around her," the purple-haired man waiting at the other side of your bedroom door called out nonchalantly. "You can drop your fantasy about me asking you out because I'm attracted to you."

You hissed silently at his snarky remark and counted to ten. You haven't even left your apartment yet you already wanted this night to be over. "How do you even know she's gonna be there?"

She - the Miracle Finder Producer, the object of your Thesis Partner's fantasies, and as fate would have it, his brother's girlfriend.

"They're doing a show featuring our Thesis adviser. Didn't he tell us about it during our last consultation?" He asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I wasn't listening," you shot back, as you took off your ponytail and started styling your hair with your curling iron. You chose a one-shoulder fitted black dress that stops right above your knees, so you thought of wearing your hair down for a change.

"Ah, yes. You were too busy looking at your notes, trying to prove me wrong as always."

You closed your eyes, as you continued to make big beach waves and prayed to the gods you wouldn't commit murder tonight.

"How much longer are you gonna take?"

"Excited much?" You asked, smirking while you now removed your glasses and put on your contacts. "You sound like a teenager excited to see his crush in a school fair!"

"Don't compare me to you!"

"I don't have designs on anyone in the party," you called back. "Unless your brother's attending the event, that is. From what you've been telling me, he seems like a great guy."

Silence. You arched an eyebrow as you strained your ear to listen for any sign of life outside your bedroom door. What must your grunge-rock skater boy-turned-date-for-the-evening be thinking?

"Do you want to pass our Thesis or not?"

You struck a victory pose at his remark. Finally, one point - you, Shaw - about twenty.

"Are you done yet? This suit is really uncomfortable. Damn, why do people even wear these?"

"Because they're decent?" You shot back. "You know, you can always go home if you're not comfortable in your attire because when we get there, you need to act decent, too. Can't have your usual swagger in a formal affair."

"Just hurry it up already!"

You rolled your eyes as you applied your nude-colored lipstick to finish off your look before putting on your black stilettos, and stuffing your phone, wallet, and your makeup in your purse.

"All done," you replied, as you finally emerged from your room.

***

A part of you wished that the dynamics between you and Shaw were different. While he was a pain in the neck, and too carefree for his own good, you also thought he made for a good intellectual sparring partner, quite attractive, and it was hard to deny that he's got your heart beating double-time whenever he got too close for comfort like he was at that very moment.

"My, you two kids seem to be having fun tonight."

You gasped, at the sound of the voice behind you, and you felt your date nudge you ever-so-subtly while straightening.

"Hey, Professor Adler," he said in his usual unruffled tone, his lips stretched into a smirk as he held his hand out to your Anthropology professor and Thesis adviser, who watched you both amusedly. His gesture made your eyes shot wide open, you thought they'd fall right off. Shaw shaking someone's hand? That's one for the books.

"Shaw. Fancy seeing you here," the stout middle-aged man greeted while shaking your date's hand. "This isn't your usual scene though."

"Yeah, I know, but I can't exactly turn a pretty lady down, can I?"

"I can see that," your professor said as he looked at you appraisingly. "Well, well, you clean up well, Miss (y/n)."

You fought the urge to squirm at the older man's words when you heard your date cluck his cheeks with his tongue and suddenly felt his arm around your shoulders, pressing you protectively close to his side.

***

"All done!" You happily announced as you stepped into the living room of your small apartment where your date was impatiently waiting for you.

You could've sworn he was stunned for a second or two before he shook his head and tried to regain his usual impassive expression. Finally, he stood and walked closer to assess you better.

"You're not wearing your glasses. I thought you said you're practically blind without them?"

You cocked your head to one side. Out of all the things he could've complimented or called out, that's the first thing he noticed?

"Wouldn't it look awkward if I wore glasses to a formal event?"

"Your hair is all curly," he continued as if you didn't say anything. "And your shoes are so tall, won't you trip? Also, surely you have a jacket to go with that dress, right?"

You stared at him in disbelief. Why did this carefree, bass-playing skater boy turn into your dad all of a sudden?

"Uh…"

"Well, at least you're not wearing red lipstick. You don't have to try too hard to look sexy. Geez! I've got plans of my own this evening, so don't expect me to be your bodyguard," he continued to mumble as he circled around you. Before long, you felt something warm and heavy on your shoulder. His coat?

"It's just until we get to the venue," he shrugged as he led you to the car he borrowed for tonight. "I don't want people seeing you freeze to death."

You sighed, your shoulders slumped as you followed your date to the car. You already expected he wouldn't throw you a compliment for looking like a proper human tonight, and you cursed yourself for feeling gutted over it anyway.

***

"So, which one of these sculptures did you like best, Professor?" You sighed in relief as Shaw changed the subject, his arm still wrapped around you, making you blush furiously.

"Oh, I have to say I liked Eros and Psyche best. In case you haven't seen it yet, it's located a little further down the hall near the bar area," the older man was starting to explain when someone tapped his shoulder from behind.

"Excuse me, Professor Adler," a gentle voice called out, making both the professor and Shaw jump. From behind the old man, a pretty petite with brown hair and big brown eyes, and the biggest smile on her face stepped up. "My name is MC from Miracle Finder."

Almost immediately, Shaw withdrew his arm around you, almost causing you to stagger backward. He straightened up and feigned disinterest.

"Hey. It's a little rude how you stepped in while I was talking to the Professor," he said, his tone teasing.

"Oh, I didn't notice you here. Do you mind if I talk to your Professor? We've invited him for an interview about the exhibit," the girl said sweetly.

Based on how unconsciously coy she acted around Shaw, and the way he kept egging her, there was no doubt that this was the girl he was crushing on. You felt like the odd person out all of a sudden and needed to step away.

You backed away slowly, careful not to rouse their attention because it would probably suck if you knew how Shaw would introduce you to his little crush. As soon as you were in a safe distance, you turned and walked aimlessly down the hall, pausing briefly at paintings or sculptures that caught your fancy, looking at its intricacies as you did so earlier. But somehow, it wasn't as fun as it was before, so you moved on quickly, to give way to the other guests who also wanted to view the artwork.

Finally, you came upon the bar and decided to rest your tired feet at the far corner, hidden from the rest of the world. Sighing, you slipped your feet off your stilettos and quietly watched as the guests around you - mostly couples - happily chatting away as they enjoyed the beauty of the art around them and the wonderful music that filled the air. You knew somewhere in the crowd, your date was fawning over his lady love, probably getting in the way of her filming your professor.

Tch.

You knew he liked her - he always told you he did. And why wouldn't he? MC was pretty, seemingly sweet, and dainty - the kind of girl any guy would like to protect. And you. You were the opposite. You lived for your work, were 'one of the boys', and didn't need anyone to protect you - that's just how you were - and now you started to realize that maybe guys don't exactly like that. At least not Shaw.

Wait, what were you thinking? You scolded yourself as you shook your head. Why were you even thinking of what he liked when you don't even like him to start with. Or did you?

"Ugh. What the hell is wrong with me?" You groaned when a cold bottle of beer and a frozen glass was placed in front of you.

"I was gonna ask you that myself."

You straightened up in your seat and shot a look at the guy seated beside you. Dressed in a nice grey suit, he smiled as he raised his beer bottle in front of you.

"You look like you needed a drink. I hope the beer is okay. They don't have fruit beer or soda," he said calmly, his amber-colored eyes never leaving yours.

"Y-yeah. Beer is perfect," you replied while pouring the amber liquid into the glass. "Thanks," you muttered before raising the glass to your lips to gulp down some liquid courage.

"I saw you with Shaw earlier -"

The name on his lips drove you to a coughing fit, as you choked on your drink. "Sorry, " you mumbled in between coughs.

"No, I'm sorry," the brown-haired guy said, as he cautiously and politely patted your back. "I didn't mean to bring that up. I was just curious."

"It's fine," you replied when you finally regained your composure. "Yes, we're just classmates in Grad school who decided to check this exhibit out for the heck of it."

"Classmates, huh?"

"Yeah, that's what we are," you said, taking a sip off your glass. "Grad school classmates."

"Are you telling me or telling yourself?"

You looked up and saw him smiling. There was something about Dreamy McHandsome who was seated beside you that felt so familiar yet different at the same time, but you couldn't point a finger at what it was exactly.

"We're classmates, and we're working on our thesis together. But we're not friends - far from it even. We hate each other's guts."

"Can't blame you for doing so," he shrugged as he drank his beer.

"Yeah. He dragged me here so he can get with someone he's been crushing on for so long," you rambled on, frowning.

"Oh? And who might that be?"

"The Miracle Finder Producer. You know, the pretty girl in a blue top and white skirt. He's been going on and on about her for weeks…"

"You mean my girlfriend?"

His girlfriend. You choked on your drink once again. "Y-y-your girlfriend? You mean to say…" You gasped. Has the beer made you stupid? You've barely drunk half of it, you thought as you fought to regain your dignity. This was Shaw's brother you were talking to - and boy, we're they blessed with good genes…

… And the same social awkwardness, you noticed, judging by how he kept his hand at your back, but not exactly touching it, as if trying to assess if he had to pat you or not.

When you finally calmed down, he cleared his throat and gave you a small smile. "Don't worry. She talks to me about their conversations. I know what that guy is playing at, and I most definitely know he's not after my girl," he said, his voice broke no room for doubt. "My name is Gavin..."

"Yeah, I know…"

"You - what?"

"Oh," you said, tapping on your glass nervously. "Shaw kinda mentioned it in passing before."

"I see."

"So, what were you saying earlier about Shaw?"

"Oh. From what my girlfriend tells me, he's got his sights set on…"

"Ahem," you heard someone say loud enough for you and Gavin to turn your heads around. And there, standing behind you, was an angry-looking Shaw. You sat up, your gaze shifting between the two brothers as the air started to thicken with tension. "I talk to someone for a minute and the next thing I knew, my date walks out on me and right into the one person I'd hate for her to meet."

"Well, if you were just honest with her as with a lot of other things in your life, maybe she wouldn't have left your side earlier," Gavin retorted flippantly. "Is she finally done with filming?"

Shaw simply grunted in reply as he watched his older brother finish his bottle of beer and stand. "Well, Miss, there's a lot I've heard about you. Seems somebody couldn't stop talking about you, but I'll leave it at that."

With a wink and a mischievous smile upon his face, the brown-haired guy sauntered off to look for his better half, as you and Shaw watched in awkward silence.

He cleared his throat and glanced at you. "Hey."

"Hey," you replied, shakily.

"So, about what that jerk said -"

"Yes?" You asked, feeling your heart hammer against your chest by the second.

"Whatever he said is not true," he said dismissively, as he took his coat off and draped it over your shoulders. "I told you before, I don't find you the least bit attractive."

You felt tears starting to sting your eyes, as he continued with his harsh commentary. "You're tough, highly opinionated, and you always want to come out on top. I don't find those attractive at all," he said. "I prefer a damsel in distress. I want someone clingy… someone, needy."

"I know that -"

"Oh do you?" He teased, his amber eyes twinkling. "You seem to know a lot about me."

"We've been working together for months now," you said. "Of course, I'd know more about you."

"I see," he said, as he took a step closer to you and touched your cheek, rubbing the stray tear that had managed to slip down the side of your face. "So, you must know I'm also a good liar. After all, I've kept all these feelings to myself for quite some time."

He snickered when he saw your frown deepen and he bent down just as he had done so earlier, to whisper. "I made you think I liked someone else when in fact," his low voice made you shiver. "I've always eyes for you."

The End.

#mr love queen's choice shaw #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic #mr love fanfic #mlqc shaw #shaw x reader #mlqc gavin #iris writes

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yandere-sins · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! The prompt request is open, right? 🥺

Can I have cellphone and date for Miya Atsumu, please? 🥺❤️

Seems like you two had the same thought! Thanks for requesting :D This time it will only be Atsumu, so no twin-dynamic FYI!

Dates - “Gosh, your skin smells so much better when we cuddle like this.” Cell phone - “You're not texting someone else behind my back are you?”

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Chuckling, Atsumu buried his face into your shoulder, arms ever so slightly tightening around you. Though you were busy with pushing at his hands to keep them from wandering off on your body, you heaved a deep sigh, relaxing in his hold too. You could struggle, you could throw a tantrum, or you could just enjoy that he brought out spare blankets after you complained that the apartment was just too cold for your barely clothed body. Even if that meant enduring the cuddle bug in your back.

“Gosh, yer skin smells so much better when we cuddle like this,” Atsumu mumbled, taking a deep breath. “Did you use the foam wash I bought you?”

Nodding quietly, he let out a pleased sigh. “I like it.”

Putting your head back against him, you didn’t resist the tight hug, unable to go anywhere even if you had wanted to. Sitting between his legs, you two were bundled up in an orange, velvet blanket, an uncharacteristic sight in his rather stylish black-and-silver decor. It must have been the one that he kept hidden below everything else, only bringing it out now because you complained about the lack of colors around you. You were surprised he didn’t want praise for remembering but also relieved you were less cold now.

Your current life was anything but easy. As if realizing one morning that your stupendously successful boyfriend was actually a jealous, obsessive psycho wasn’t enough, he held you captive despite your best (and worst) attempts to convince him that no, you weren’t leaving him - but you would now, given the chance - and even more so, you weren’t having fun with someone else while he was busy training and playing matches.

At first, you always thought it was cool to date a professional athlete. There were all these expensive gifts, the events he took you to. It was a completely different life than the one you had gotten used to in the past, and though it was exciting first and foremost, you were really happy by Atsumu’s side. You didn’t even mind the many, many times he had to call off your dates or leave you hanging though he promised to be home at a certain time. You thought that was normal.

You couldn’t have known just how angry he got when you did the same to him for the first time to meet your friends.

How obsessed he became when he saw you with other men, though they were just your friends.

And now, the central heating had shut down, and Atsumu’s overly expensive apartment seemed like the last one to ever get it back. It had been three hours, and you had yet to hear from the landlord. Though it was none of your concern, you wondered if the other tenants had the same struggle, suspecting that it wasn’t an actual problem anymore even though Atsumu made it seem like it.

“When do you think they’ll turn the heating back on?” you whispered, hoping the answer was nothing short of, “In ten minutes,” “Soon,” or “Some time today.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, unbothered. Naturally, since he got exactly what he wanted. If you remembered correctly, Atsumu had more than once complained about you being cold to him lately. However, now he had you in his arms and got to live out the fantasy that you two still were a loving couple rather than captive and captor.

“I’m sure he’ll call,” Atsumu tried to calm you, feeling the unsatisfied deep breath you heaved. As if on cue, his cell next to you on the coffee table began to vibrate. At first, you thought it might be a text message, but it didn’t stop, and you tapped his arm to get his attention. “Don’t wanna...” he complained, nuzzling his face further into your shoulder. “If you don’t, I will.”

That was enough to make him tense up, muttering something under his breath before finally releasing you from his tight hold to reach out of the blanket and for his phone. You did your best to get some distance between you two, though his remaining hand held you steadily in place. Defeated and unwilling to get your back cold, you stayed leaned against him, listening to a man’s voice coming through the cellphone while Atsumu’s thumb began to rub over your stomach. His comfort, not yours.

“Alright,” he finally said after listening, and he lowered his phone to end the call. Carelessly, he threw it back on the table before closing his arms around you once more, pressing you tightly to his chest and digging into your body with his face. “I have to let him in real quick so he can turn the heating back on. You’ll be good here while I do that, won’t ya?”

Sighing inwardly, you were contemplating your choices when Atsumu finally let go, slipping out of your warm formation and standing up from the couch. Before turning and walking to the door, he leaned down, planting a big, slobby kiss on your cheek, leaving with a dumb grin on his face while you used the blanket to wipe it off. “No screaming this time, alright?” he shouted back as he closed the door. You heard the click of the lock behind him as he left the living room, this lock having only been installed after he started going crazy.

“You’ll see,” you muttered to no one but yourself, hearing a ring at the door and Atsumu’s fake cheerful voice. Leaning back, you were glad to have some time separated from him when something unusual caught your eye.

Next to you, the display of his phone began to shine, something that never happened before without Atsumu being present. He usually pocketed his phone when he left you or simply kept it in his bag unless needed so you’d have no access to it. But not this day.

You were immediately unwrapped, the cold stinging against your bare skin, but you’d endure it. Picking up the device, you were faced with overcoming the letter-combo to unlock it, so knowing he wasn’t all too interested in being clever with just his phone security, you typed in his birthday first.

Wrong, two more attempts.

Atsumu’s and his brother’s tricot number in their high school team?

Wrong, one more attempt.

Your birthday?

Correct.

Immediately you swiped through his pages filled with all kinds of apps, from normal to sport-related to games. Eventually, you found the call and message buttons, thinking about what to do. You didn’t have much time, and calling might draw his attention if he heard you talk, so you opted for the messages. He wasn’t very clean when it came to sorting all his chats, some being over a year old, but it was a gamble about what to chose.

If it was someone he hadn’t talked to in a while, they might think it’s a joke, or they’d not react at all. But could you trust his friends? His brother? Group chats? It was all no good, but you were running out of options. Opening his team’s group chat, you began to type.

>> Guys there’s a guy with a knife who broke into my apartment! me and [Name] are hiding, call police

Phrasing it like this, you thought they might help, rather than if you just accused Atsumu. Shaking with nervosity but anticipating help to come soon, you moved your hand to the send button, ready to push when you heard the click of the door lock.

It was infuriating.

You dropped the phone as you jumped in shock, conditioned to feel like you were doing something bad. It fell to the floor, clattering loudly and slipping under the table. “What’s wrong?” Atsumu caught you as you awkwardly tried to reach for it. He noticed the phone that was gone from the table and interpreted your nervous expression correctly in a moment of brilliance.

“You’re not texting someone else behind my back, are you?”

Immediately, you saw the anger rise in his face, his hand grabbing you by the collar of his shirt you were wearing - the only thing he allowed you to wear aside from the one change of your own clothing you had from the first day he locked you in his apartment - while he pushed the table aside, reaching for his phone.

“No--!” you stammered out, trying to take it from him, but he turned to the side so you couldn’t reach it, reading your message. “What the fuck,” Atsumu mumbled, and you could see him delete the unsent message before pressing the button to turn his phone off completely.

“The guy wasn’t that bad, [Name],” he told you as if you were stupid for writing such a panicked message. Either he didn’t understand what you tried to do, or he didn’t want to believe it, but instead, a smile returned to Atsumu’s face as he looked at you teasingly.

“Aw, were you that worried about me? It’s fine ~ He fixed the heating!”

Throwing the phone behind him on the couch, you followed it with your eyes until you could no longer see the black device on the black leather couch, feeling the sudden heaviness of Atsumu’s body on top of you as he crawled between your legs now. “Want to make sure I’m alright? I don’t mind.”

The cocky smirk on his face spoke volumes as he lifted your hand to his chest, waiting for you to feel him up. Though you knew you weren’t getting out of ‘inspecting’ him anymore until he was convinced you calmed down, part of you was just glad he didn’t figure you out and punished you for misbehaving.

But all you could truly feel as his lips laid down on top of yours, your back slowly being pushed into the soft cushions, was disappointed that you failed to send the text.

How much longer would you need to endure this? Would there be another chance like this?

And more importantly, how much more of his ‘love’ would you need to endure?

[You can find the prompt list here]

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

Text

Looking Through A Window (2)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Oh man. My dudes. I received so much love and support and excited feedback on the first chapter that I thought my heart was going to explode. Y’all are so wonderful. Keep it up. <3

*****

Luckily, Matty lets them take the Phoenix jet to Houston. Flying commercial would make today even more tortuous than it already promises to be, albeit for a different reason.

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself, Mac cannot stop staring at the diamond ring on Riley’s finger. The princess cut gem is stunning and ridiculously large, but it suits her cover as a lucrative arms dealer. A white gold wedding band sits below it. Riley left her usual assortment of rings at home, and Mac can’t help but think her long, delicate fingers look bare without them.

He tears his eyes away from the rings again and again, both on the plane and while driving to the safe house. Riley drives with just her left hand, her right elbow resting on the center console. Mac likes driving, but there’s something relaxing about riding shotgun while Riley drives instead. He’s never been able to put a finger on it, but the sense of ease washes over him all the same. Admiring the way sunlight illuminates her engagement ring is simply a bonus.

He doesn’t let himself imagine what he might give her, in an alternate future where she reciprocates his feelings and one day wants to marry him.

Harley obediently lays in the backseat, staring out the windshield. She's been on her best behavior the entire twenty four hours Mac's known her, ever the professional.

Which puts her completely at odds with Mac and Riley's shenanigans—cracking jokes, dancing on the plane and in the car, doing purposefully bad impersonations of Russ. These are the best parts of going on ops alone with Riley. They can let loose in a way they just couldn’t when anyone else other than Bozer was around. Everyone else is professional all the time; Mac and Riley are only professional when they have to be.

Riley taps the steering wheel in time to the classic rock song on the radio. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Dinner? We haven’t even had lunch yet!”

“True.” Riley chuckles. “Can you tell I’m hungry?”

Mac gives her a sly look. “Not at all.”

They settle on Texas barbecue for lunch on their way to the safe house, because that’s what Jack would choose if he was here. If only the old man could see them now, all grown up and getting sent to take down terrorists unsupervised.

Seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, Mac raises his brisket sandwich in a toast to Jack, in whatever afterlife he found himself in. Hopefully it’s the one with an endless supply of good barbecue.

“Oh man, Jack would’ve loved this,” Riley says through a mouthful of food. She sneaks Harley a piece of brisket.

Mac smiles. “Yeah, he would’ve.”

It’s easier, now, to talk about him. At first, Mac hadn’t been sure he could ever get to a point where talking about Jack didn’t make him want to hit something or just curl up and sob.

But here he is, on the other side. Him and Riley both.

Their safe house is another twenty minutes away from the restaurant, in a nice neighborhood full of trees and children playing on the sidewalks. It’s so much greener than a California neighborhood could ever dream of being. There’s even a park across the street from their apartment complex. It’s exactly the sort of place a young, affluent couple would want to live.

Riley parks in their designated space, and the pair ascend the stairs to apartment number 202. Outside of the car, they don’t dare use each other’s real names until they’re sure the apartment is free of bugs. The place was furnished earlier that week by other Phoenix agents, but Mac and Riley do a thorough sweep of every room just in case.

It’s a nice apartment. Wood flooring, granite countertops, matching cabinets throughout. There are pictures on the walls, but Mac doesn’t bother to stop and check what they are.

Riley clears the space from back to front, so Mac does the opposite. He clears the kitchen first, frowning at the absence of any sort of food, before moving on to the living room.

Mac stops dead in his tracks when he enters the bedroom. The singular bedroom. With a singular, queen-sized bed.

Oh no. This is not happening.

Mac shakes his head and rubs his eyes, hoping his mind is just playing tricks on him and that there’s actually two beds. Or a whole other room he missed before.

The one and only bed seems to mock him.

He walks back out, finding Riley already sitting at the kitchen table, turning on her laptop. “Uhh, Riles? There’s only—”

“One bed,” she finishes, not bothering to look up. “I know.”

Oh god. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not with his dignity still intact. Mac stammers, “I’ll, uhh, sleep on the couch. You can have it.”

That gets Riley’s attention. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to be here for weeks. You’ll hurt your back sleeping on the couch that long. Just sleep with me.” Riley’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just said. “In the bed,” she quickly adds.

Mac ducks his head to hide his blush.

“What are you working on?” he asks in a feeble attempt to distract himself from their sleeping situation. Because it will definitely be a situation if Mac’s not careful.

“Connecting to the Wi-Fi,” Riley says in a slow, “What else would I be doing?” sort of way.

“Right.” Mac silently curses himself. Of course that’s what she’s doing. “Anyway, I’m assuming you already know this, since you probably opened the fridge too, but we have no food.”

“I saw.” She’s multitasking again, manicured fingers flying faster across her keyboard than Mac can keep track of. “Why don’t you unload our bags while I finish this, and then we can go.”

Unable to help feeling like he’s been dismissed, Mac complies without protest.

Soon they’re back in the car, headed to the grocery store, and the whole thing feels ridiculously domestic. Mac’s never been a fan of grocery shopping, but Riley makes it almost...fun. For starters, she’s not methodical about it the way Bozer and Desi are. But more than that, getting to spend time with her doing mundane, non-work stuff is a nice reminder that their relationship is more than just the job. They’re friends too.

Mac wishes there is a way to tell her all that without it sounding weird.

They come home, unload the groceries, and take Harley for a long walk, and that feels easy too. It feels normal, even though literally nothing about this situation is normal, and Mac already knows he’ll miss this when the op is over.

But normalcy ends when Riley beckons Mac to sit beside her at the kitchen table, and together they write an advertisement for their arms dealing business. Once they’re satisfied with it, Riley sends it off into the dark web, and there’s nothing to do but wait, like a spider after spinning her web.

The waiting is the worst part.

Mac is contemplating taking Harley for a second walk when Riley asks, “Want to help me make dinner?” He takes one look at her hands on her hips and the “you don’t actually have a choice” look on her face and knows he’ll be left to fend for himself if he doesn’t help now. Mac learned that the hard way back when he and Riley lived together.

“Sure.”

They work in comfortable silence. Mac chops vegetables and grates cheese for their quesadillas while Riley does the actual cooking part. Even though they are doing separate tasks, Mac is acutely aware of every move Riley makes, no matter how insignificant. Flexing her long, thin fingers around a knife. Itching the back of her calf with her foot. Dancing in place, spatula in hand, while she waits to flip the quesadillas sizzling in the pan.

Mac smiles softly. Her random little dances are cute. He’s noticed them more and more since realizing he has feelings for her, but if Mac is being honest, he’s always thought the dances are cute.

Riley hisses as she peeks under the tortilla, checking to see if it’s browned yet.

“You good?” Mac asks, frowning.

“Yeah, I touched the pan by accident.” Riley runs her thumb under cold water.

Her laptop dings while they eat. Wide-eyed, Mac glances at Riley. That was fast. She grimaces before sliding the laptop closer and checking the notification.

“Is it them?” he asks tentatively. That’s the hard part about this; in order for their business to look more legit, they had to just put an ad out and hope for a response, rather than target the terrorist organization directly.

Riley exhales. “No, it’s not them. It’s someone else.”

Swallowing another bite of quesadilla, Mac says, “I don’t know whether I’m relieved or if that’s worse.”

“Same.”

There are no more responses that night.

*****

Mac wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in—on his side, facing outward, with as much space between him and Riley as possible. When they crawled into bed the night before, Riley did the same.

Harley spent the night on the couch.

She’s a very guarded dog, Mac is slowly realizing. Tolerating, but not trusting. Mac supposes he would be like that too if he was a dog and he got stuck with a bunch of strangers after his human suddenly disappeared one day.

He makes coffee, feeds Harley breakfast, and takes a shower, all before Riley loses her battle with the snooze button and finally gets out of bed. While she showers, Mac takes Harley for a walk in hopes that the cool, spring air will ease the anxiety that took root the moment Riley released their ad into the void.

It doesn’t.

Dark, puffy clouds loom on the horizon, and the few birds Mac hears shriek at each other in warning. It looks like a storm is coming.

When Mac returns, he’s met with a grim expression, one he understands without Riley uttering a single word. “They answered,” she confirms.

“What did they say?” Unclipping Harley’s leash, Mac moves to stand behind Riley, resting his hands on the back of her chair. The scent of her shampoo tickles his nose, and he forces himself to ignore it and focus on what Riley’s saying.

“They want to meet. Today.”

“Time or place?”

Riley points at a small box on her screen. “Just an address.”

“What’s there?”

“A warehouse,” Riley says. “Owned by the same shell corporation other Phoenix techs already tied to the organization.”

“Not very clandestine, are they?”

“No, they’re not.” Riley looks up at him, her head bumping his sternum, and butterflies ricochet inside Mac’s rib cage. There’s something soft in Riley’s expression that makes Mac want to kiss her. “Are you ready for this?”

Mac sighs. “As ready as I ever am. Are you?”

“Yeah,” she says, but her confidence falters. Without thinking, Mac squeezes her shoulders in reassurance before walking away to change.

*****

The warehouse is located on the edge of the city, in an industrial area that has certainly seen better days. Even from a distance, Mac can see cobwebs decorating the warehouse windows and rust creeping up the roller doors. Aside from Riley, there’s not another soul in sight.

As per the directions the organization sent after Riley confirmed the meeting, Mac parks on the south side of the building, near the only functional-looking door. He doesn’t look at Riley as they get out of the car, instead desperately trying not to cringe at the cold, heavy weight of the gun holstered at his side, hidden beneath his jacket.

High-end arms dealers couldn’t walk around unarmed, unfortunately.

Although her hands are occupied with holding Harley’s leash, there’s a gun hidden beneath Riley’s suit jacket as well. Mac’s stomach churns. The second Riley emerged from their bedroom earlier wearing that jet black suit, she was a different person. She was wholly Genevieve Turner, and no matter how hard Mac tried, he couldn’t find even a single trace of his best friend beneath the icy exterior.

Locking their SUV, Mac smooths the lapels of his own black suit and slips into character as well.

The dark clouds Mac noticed earlier are directly overhead now. Mac has never believed in omens the way Jack did, but he can’t help hearing Jack’s voice in his head, warning him that black clouds are a sign of certain doom. Or something like that.

There’s no one inside the warehouse, at least as far as Mac can see. “Hello?” he calls, the word echoing slightly in the open space. Aside from a few random wooden crates, the room is empty.

A door slams, and then an older man comes into view. He’s probably in his late fifties, with graying hair and a beer belly his shirt doesn’t quite cover. The man swaggers like he owns the place, although Mac doubts the leader of a terrorist cell would deign to play tour guide.

No doubt there’s a quip on the edge of Riley’s tongue about entitled white men, but she doesn’t share it.

The man extends a hand to Mac in introduction. “Conrad.” His sneer doesn’t reach his eyes.

Mac frowns, keeping his hands at his sides. “Last name?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

What he’s about to say might screw everything up before it even starts, but Mac says it anyway. In his gut, he knows it’s the right call. “If it doesn’t matter, then we’re done here. My wife and I have no interest in entering a business relationship with someone too inexperienced to understand that trust is integral to any transaction.” Mac spins on his heel and strides toward the door, Riley falling into step beside him.

“Wait!” the man calls. They pause, turning around slowly. “Deacon. Conrad Deacon.” The man seems to know he’s already lost. Good. “Welcome to the cause.” He gestures for Mac and Riley to follow him.

Mac stands his ground. In his peripheral, Riley stands utterly still, the perfect mask of cool, collected neutrality. Almost bored, even. It’s scary how easily she becomes her cover.

“Come on now,” Conrad says, taking a single step forward. “We have much to discuss.”

That’s enough of the power play, Mac thinks, but just as he’s about to give in and follow Conrad, Riley utters a single, sharp command that rings through the room. “Sit.”

Harley obeys.

Riley’s lips curve in a cruel, taunting smile. “Then enlighten us.” Mac suppresses a shiver; he’s seen this side of Riley plenty of times before, watched her hone it over the years, but it’s still unnerving. Admittedly, it’s also kind of hot.

Conrad ignores her entirely. He croons, “Why don’t we start with your names?” It’s phrased like a question. It sounds like a question, but Mac sees the demand for what it really is.

Mac gestures to Riley. “This is my wife, Genevieve Turner. And my name is James.” His father’s name tastes like ash on Mac’s tongue.

“And the dog?”

“Killer,” Riley sneers. Mac isn’t sure if she’s kidding or not.

Again, Conrad doesn’t acknowledge her. “James, why don’t I give you the tour and explain what we do here.”

“We’ll go on the tour, but we are not here to join your cause.” It takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower to maintain his neutral tone. “All we care about is what you’d like us to provide and how much you’ll pay for it.”

Conrad doesn’t hide his displeasure. “Fine. Follow me.”

Mac and Riley are led through the open warehouse. The layout is straightforward and nearly impossible to get lost in. But after Conrad shows them a room full of rifles—countless hung on the walls, floor to ceiling, the rest in half-open crates—Mac finds himself counting the number of wooden shipping crates scattered around the building.

He doesn’t like his final number.

Arming terrorists doesn’t sit well with Mac, even if it serves a purpose. It makes him sick, knowing he will likely be indirectly responsible for their next attack.

Especially because those crates are no doubt full of the kind of rifles designed to kill people most effectively. The ones hanging on the wall are military grade, probably cutting-edge. Desi would know exactly what they are and how they work.

Trusting Riley is paying close attention, Mac only half listens to Conrad babble about the cause. But then the older man says something that stops Mac in his tracks. “Our country is being run into the ground by whiny do-nothings,” Conrad asserts, “who waste our money and spew garbage that some people matter more than others. Well, you know what? Hardworking, everyday Americans matter. But no,” he scoffs, “those damn liberals don’t like it when we remind them of the truth. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off.”

The ground sways under Mac’s feet. He knows these people believe this, read it in Matty’s extensive briefing notes. But it’s another thing entirely to hear someone say it to his face.

He can only imagine what Riley must be thinking.

Clearing his throat, Mac tries to redirect the conversation. “Like I said, we don’t care about your cause. Just tell us what you’re looking for, and we’ll be on our way.”

Conrad eyes him suspiciously, but complies. “We’re looking for something a little more than what you can get at the store, you know?”

Mac doesn’t, not exactly. He’ll have to ask Desi later. “I do,” he lies.

“Good. Here’s what we’re willing to pay for it.” He hands Mac a folded piece of paper, and Mac does a double take when he reads the number. There are a lot of zeroes. “And as a show of good faith, we’d like it delivered tomorrow.”��

“Tomorrow?” Riley splutters. Mac feels it then, the broiling rage slipping through a crack in her persona. He needs to get her out of there. Now. Not just to preserve the op, but for Riley’s wellbeing. Some audacity Matty has making Riley play nice with men like this.

Mac slides his hands into his pockets, using the movement as a cover to brush his knuckles against Riley’s fist. I know. I’m here. I’m sorry.

For the first time, Conrad addresses Riley directly. “Yes. Tomorrow. Unless that’s something you can’t do?”

“We can do that,” she replies calmly, and the difference between her reactions is like night and day. As quickly as that crack appeared, it was gone.

“Excellent.” Conrad takes another step toward Riley, offering to shake hands, but Harley’s low, menacing growl keeps him at bay. Rewarding the dog with a quick scratch on the head, Riley closes the gap and shakes Conrad’s still-outstretched hand.

“It’s a deal,” she says. Following suit, Mac shakes Conrad’s hand as well and follows Riley out the door, neither of them uttering another word.

Mac drives. One look at Riley’s trembling fist decides for him.

By the time the warehouse disappears from the rearview mirror, he can’t take the silence anymore. “Hey,” Mac starts, but Riley cuts him off with a hand.

“Not until we’re inside.”

They hit every single red light between the warehouse and the apartment, and Mac anxiously taps the steering wheel. Raindrops land on the windshield. They’re small at first, but soon the drops are large and numerous enough to refract the streetlights, and Mac struggles to see where he’s going. He adjusts the windshield wipers over and over, never landing on the right speed.

Too slow. Too fast. Too slow. Too fast.

Mac settles on a setting that’s slightly too fast, and the squeak of rubber on glass nearly matches his heart thudding in his chest.

Riley stares straight ahead, unmoving, unblinking. Mac wants to reach out, to let a gentle touch say what he verbally can’t, but the road is slick enough to make him keep two hands on the wheel. We’re almost there, he reassures himself.

By the time he parks, it’s pouring hard enough that the ten second walk from the car to the door soaks them to the bone. Riley’s hands shake as she unlocks the apartment door.

Once they’re inside and Mac unclips Harley’s leash, Riley turns to him with pained, pleading eyes. His heart breaking all over again, Mac draws her in for a long, tight hug. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to.

Mac just cradles the back of her head and sways gently, wishing he could fix the world for her.

Neither pulls away, even when Riley suddenly says, “If Conrad was smart, he would’ve had someone bug our car while he paraded us around the warehouse. I don’t think he’s actually smart enough to do that, but we should check first, just in case.”

Mac curses himself for not thinking of that. “Good call.” He rubs Riley’s back, hoping the gesture is soothing. “I hate the way he treated you,” he snarls. “Like you weren’t even worth acknowledging.”

“Welcome to being a woman.”

It was more than that. They both know it. But neither say it.

*****

“You need what?” Matty shrieks over the phone.

Mac winces. “Sorry.” He’d called Desi first, to ask what kind of guns Conrad meant with his innuendo, and received a verbal lashing for not asking any follow-up questions. But she made her best guess anyway. Now on the phone with Matty, it doesn’t take even a single brain cell to know that her reaction will be much, much worse.

“He wants us to prove ourselves,” Riley adds. “As a show of good faith.” The words come out dripping in venom, but their boss doesn’t comment. Mac takes a second to study her; Riley changed into leggings and an oversized flannel shirt, and there are still remnants of dark makeup smudges under her eyes. Now, she’s sitting on the kitchen counter with her knees tucked into her chest. It’s weird to see her take up so little space.

Matty sighs, deeply and loudly in a way conveys her annoyance more than words ever could. “Fine. A few weeks ago, Border Control confiscated a huge shipment of smuggled guns near El Paso, so I’ll see if we can borrow those. But next time, Blondie, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He doesn’t correct Matty in that it was Riley who made the deal. That would only add fuel to the fire.

“Thank you,” he says, and Matty hangs up. Mac runs a hand through his damp hair. “That went well.” Riley’s lips twitch, but it’s not the amused reaction he hopes for. He’s at a complete loss regarding what to say to her, so Mac gently asks, “What can I do?”

Riley slides off the counter, and Mac reaches for her automatically, although he doesn’t actually touch her; his hand hovers just beside Riley’s elbow. She doesn’t shrink away, but she makes no move to touch him either.

“Help me put him and everyone like him in a deep, dark hole where they can’t hurt anybody. And then just…” she trails off, taking a deep breath. “Keep being you.”

With that, she walks away, leaving Mac alone in the kitchen, racking his brain to figure out what that last part means.

*****

Later that night, Mac tosses and turns, replaying Conrad’s words. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off. They seem off-kilter, like what the man said and what he really meant are misaligned. Mac sighs, rubbing his face.

Another bolt of lightning illuminates the bedroom, and Mac automatically counts the seconds until he hears thunder rumbling in the distance. The storm is moving closer.

Beside him, Riley lies on her back with her eyes closed, although her breathing is too light for her to be asleep. Mac wonders if her mind is just as loud and chaotic as his.

For Riley’s sake, he hopes it’s not.

*****

Sleep never finds Mac.

The storm rages all through the night, but by the time dawn arrives, the thunder and wind dissipate, leaving just the steady downpour. The clouds are dark enough that Mac can hardly tell the sun even bothered to rise this morning.

When Riley’s alarm goes off, it’s like the shrill tone is mocking Mac for being awake. Riley groans as she shuts it off.

“Morning,” he mumbles. His throat hurts. He needs water. “Did you sleep well?”

Another groan. “No.”

“At least you slept,” Mac mutters.

Riley rolls onto her side, drawing one of the extra pillows into her chest. “Do you always toss and turn that much?”

It was his fault, he realizes, that she didn’t sleep. Mac suddenly feels guilty. “Sorry. And no.”

He expects Riley to be upset at being kept awake, but she isn’t. With a look that just might be understanding, she softly asks, “What were you thinking about?”

Mac can’t say that his thoughts whip around his mind like raindrops in last night’s storm. Not without sounding crazy, at least. So instead he says, “I don’t even know. I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Me too,” Riley admits. “It feels off.” Her eyes are heavy, and Mac’s had enough early mornings with Riley to know it’s not just the lack of sleep weighing her down.

“Go back to sleep. I can handle the delivery.”

Riley rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you do that by yourself.”

He doesn’t argue. “Okay.”

A moment passes between them. It’s been happening more and more lately—holding eye contact a little too long, sharing smirks when no one else is looking, stealing moments where it’s just the two of them and nothing else matters. Each one gives him hope that there’s not a wall between them, but instead, a door. Someone just has to be brave enough to open it.

Sitting up, Riley quipps, “Just don’t make me regret letting you sleep in the bed with me.” Mac snorts.

“No promises.”

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

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thebrownssociety · 3 years ago

Note

i noticed that in a past post you had mentioned daffy was in the front lines of world war 2. how was that like? how did toons particularly handle war?

Not particularly well. Toons are not designed for war, they're designed to make people laugh. Added to that that most of the toons were very young [under 15] when they were sent to the front and the story gets sadder.

Warnings: Mention of War and descriptions of PTSD [I have done research, but this is Toon version, so it's not going to tally exactly with humans]

Disclaimer - this is a headcanon. I have mentioned the companies here and Walt Disney [briefly] stating the obvious, it's all made-up.

All of the companies involved did there best to help/protect the toons as best they could. None of the female or children toons were allowed to go and there was a limit on how old the 'adult' toons had to be before they could go. That ended up being 5. The companies wanted 10, the Military wanted three, five was a compromise - although the companies had to fight hard to get that. In the end it boiled down to 'Either five, or they don't go at all'. The companies also re-negotiated the initial year the toons would be away down to 6 consecutive months. The companies wanted three months, so it was another compromise.

Stating the obvious, none of the toons enjoyed it much. Even the ones who thought they would thrive [Like Donald, Yosamite Sam and other 'tough' toons] found it difficult. Not to say they don't remember some bits of it fondly, mainly the comradeship they found, but for the most part it was hell on earth. After the first lot of Toons who's gone in the first month [about 30, mainly background toons, Prince Florian and Sylvester] came back from the front they looked so pale and ghostlike [visually, a shell of there former selves] that none of the others wanted to go and the companies tried to pull them out of it. [This being near the end of 1943] But they weren't allowed to, so the toons had to go.

The time the toons were fighting was 'only' Jan 1943 - end of war, Sep 1945, and the toons were only there for 6 months, but it was a long, terrifying 6 months.

The weird thing was that after the first initial couple of months while there coulor came back and they looked more life-like again, they seemed okay. Really! They could still act - and act well - they joked with each other in a normal manner and they talked to people. Sure, there were a few of them showing more difficulties adjusting - like Daffy who was acting paranoid and was constantly on the edge and Donald who's already-existing anger issues went through the roof, not to mention Elmer who was mute for a few months after coming back and Pete [Disney] who locked himself away and wouldn't come out, not to mention the at least 30 of background toons who were all showing extreme level of difficultly, but, hey, that was only a couple of toons, right? In the grand scheme of things. The rest of them were fine.

They were not fine.

It took a good couple of years [between 5-10] But eventually the cracks started showing. The Toons who had fought in the war started reacting weirdly to loud noise. Jumping onto the ceiling and refusing to come down, hiding under things and in things [like jugs and cups and cracks in the wall] whenever they thought they were under attack. They were having frequent, intense nightmares and a lot of the toon were displaying mental health issues like paranoia and splitting themselves in two [literally. It depended on the toon as to what exactly the personalities looked like, but as a general guide they'd be one 'young' one from around the time they were first created and another one that was closer to there normal age, but looked and acted completely different. Doctor Scratchesniff theorised it's what the toons worse fears about themselves are, visualised and brought to life.]

The toons were also having flashbacks to the war, which is bad enough on its own, but because they're toons the flashbacks literally engulfed them and whoever was near, drawing them into a world that they hadn't been in for about five-ten years. This, as you can probably imagine, was quite a major problem so the three major studios - Disney, Warner Bros's and Hanna-Barbera - put there heads together and came up with a solution, and that solution came in the form of Doctor Scratchensniff. [I do have a separate headcanon on him, covered in my 'Mental-Health' headcanon] The idea was that D.S. would work across all three studios and have enhanced toon powers.

While it's well known that a lot of Toons have been affected by the war, I'll go through a few of the toons that [I headcanon] have had the most noticeable difficulties after the war.

Daffy - He now goes back and forth between his 40's characterisation [screwball, Clampett version] and his greedy-jerkass characterisation in later years. The way it works is he will be the 'sensible' persona of the Greedy Daffy for most of the year [who, for all his faults, does care about his friends/family and can take care of Plucky easily], then he will suddenly switch back to his 40's persona. [Who, although he does still care for his friends/family, he can't express it as well and he has NO IDEA who Plucky is.]

After a bit of help and counselling from D.S. he has identified his major triggers [and Daffy has informed the rest of the LT's so they're aware of them]. For example, flying a plane will instantly put him back in the 40's mindset. For a time it was flying in general that put him in the mindset [which was fun when the LT's went to Australia] but now Daffy's okay with it and can manage small journeys easily. Longer journeys he struggled with, but he simply doesn't go on long plane journeys.

He also doesn't like Toons taller than himself getting in his face, [much taller, I mean. Bugs is alright.] He'll go into 'Fight' mode and try to attack them. Non-expected loud sounds like a car backfiring or fireworks can also remind him of war. Daffy's reaction when he hears something that he's not sure of what it is, it to try and find it and attack it. Either that or he would teleport away to a small space [like a jug, under a staircase or a crack in the wall] and not come out until Avery/Elmer/Porky calmed him down. [Bugs does try, but Daffy tends to get more wound up whenever Bugs tries anything, so the rabbit had to stop.]

Donald - I'm not going to spend long on Donald, mainly because his issues have [I'm fairly certain] been touched on in canon? His triggers are a lot like Daffy's except that Donald is MUCH more likely to try and attack anything he thinks is a threat rather than run away from it. He has inadvertently hurt [both physically and mentally] people he cares about by doing this, but they understand the reason why. Doesn't necessary make it easier, but they understand.

The main difference between him and Daffy though is that Donald has always wanted help. Ever since he realised he was hurting the people he loved, he wanted help. He had time off from work, Scrooge stepped in and insisted Donald and the boys move in with him so he didn't have to worry about a roof over his head and getting food and stuff. [Unfortunately this genuine well-meant, kind act only added to Donald's general feeling of uselessness]

The good news was that not only did Donald have extended family support, but he was best friends with Mickey and Goofy. Mickey was able to lean in Walts ears and convince him to treat Donald more leniently than he might have other toons, he also did his best to help Donald come to terms with what had happened to him during the war. Goofy could - in theory - do a lot less than Mickey, but he WAS more available and completely willing to take the boys off him for a couple of hours/days/weeks if needed. Goofy can cook - and cook well - so he'd bring food over for Donald so that if [as happened often] he didn't feel like cooking he'd have something ready to heat up/put in the oven.

Elmer - Some of the toons when they were put in charge of there units got on quite well, in that they had men who were willing to listen to them, and treated them kindly. Elmer's troop wasn't like that. He was very young when he was sent there [8] and was still more like Egghead. A bit silly, a bit hyper and not as hard as he needed to be. He cried the first time he went into battle and had a lot of trouble trying to gain the respect of his men. This has had a knock-on effect in that he thought everyone around him hated him and didn't like him. Even when he went back to Toontown, he just thought all his friends/family were being nice to him because they had to, not because they genuinely liked him.

Over many years Elmer has come to accept this isn't true and has been in therapy with D.S. in order to discuss it further. On a different note the main immediately noticeable difference upon coming back from war [aside from the fact he was mute for about two months] was that he started sleepwalking. His sleep had never been great at the best of times, but the war gave him such bad nightmares that he hardly ever slept. When he did eventually get to sleep, he started sleepwalking. Elmer being Elmer somehow didn't notice this at first? He thought it was completely normal [?] to start the night in your bed and wake up in Toon-World Australia having somehow swam his way across the ocean and hacked his way through the Australian outbacks to the middle off Australia, while asleep. He then had to spend several days trying to get back to Looney-Tune Street. With this in mind, it was really only a matter of time until it was noticed by the others.

They do there best to look out for him, if one of the LT's see Elmer sleepwalking, they will follow him/go with him and try to look after him. It should be noted though that despite the fact Fudd is clearly asleep, he is somehow aware of his surroundings and should someone attack him he will fight back and, most times, win.

#Looney Tunes Ask #Looney Tunes #Donald Duck #Daffy Duck #Elmer Fudd #Yosemite Sam #Headcanons #Mickey Mouse #Goofy #Disney Headcanons #Looney Tunes Headcanons #PTSD #Scrooge McDuck

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ectonurites · 3 years ago

Text

Conner Kent in Suicide Squad/the Infinite Frontier era: wtf is going on

Alright lads hello I just need to type out some theories/thoughts about what’s going on with my boy Kon right now. This is more for myself than anything else (just trying to organize my thoughts) but since some of y’all like to hear me talk about comics (and some of this discussion has already been happenin in my inbox) I figured i’d format it and put it on here too! its like 4k words and written over the last few days mostly at 3am. sorry <3

this is basically just me going like

Also fair warning that like, I can be wrong and misinterpret things just as much as anyone else can, like I use panels to support why I think what I do but a lot of this stuff is subjective/complicated to understand so like... in general somethings should be taken with a grain of salt, especially because exactly what changes to the universe were made by Death Metal/Infinite Frontier haven’t been super super clearly defined yet. Also sometimes comic writers make the most random nonsensical shit happen, so I as a fan am also allowed to theorize about random nonsensical shit.

But to start: let’s backtrack!

Many months ago when Infinite Frontier was first announced they dropped some promotional art, and I remember being a little confused because. Well:

(Variant Cover spread for Justice League (2018) #59)

(Variant Cover spread for Superman (2018) #29)

Notice how Conner is back to his Teen Titans 2003 look up top, but in his YJ 2019 look at the bottom? This seemed weird to me! But then they announced that Conner would be part of the Suicide Squad ongoing title, in the T-shirt look, so I wrote this discrepancy off in my brain as ‘oh I guess that cover was just the last hurrah for punk Kon’ and moved on with life.

In Suicide Squad right away we learn he’s very much so there against his will:

(Suicide Squad (2021) #1)

Which corroborates more or less what we were also shown in Future State: Suicide Squad, although admittedly it tells... a slightly different version of the events. When I first saw both of these together I just chalked it up to being a bit inaccurate as it’s shown as a memory in Future State:

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Issue 2 we saw him in action with the Squad, trying to do his best to still be a hero despite the team, but things get a little more interesting in the following issue. It starts off with an account of his history

(Suicide Squad (2021) #3)

This page gave me a few immediate red flags, mostly minor things that had to do with coloring, so more irl problems than things to take seriously in-universe (Kon’s pants are the wrong color in the first Superboy shot, and Bart’s Impulse costume is in Kid Flash colors instead of the correct Impulse ones) but then also it just bugged me the phrasing “he joined Young Justice” when he was a founder of the team, he didn’t join it he made it with Tim and Bart.

But again, chalked that stuff up to just.... writers/artists being inconsistent/unaware of things that they should be aware of, or even Nocturna just not being specific with details. But it did still strike me as a little odd considering the very accurate use of villains in those same shots, Scavenger who was a reoccurring bad guy from Kon’s solo days and showed up basically nowhere else (even holding the Spear of Lono and everything!) and Billy/Harm (Greta’s brother) from Young Justice.

But then a few pages later we got this:

(Suicide Squad (2021) #3)

Which is interesting. My first instinct was to think he’s being drugged w kryptonite or something thats leaving him hazy/out of it, but my thoughts on that have kinda changed, we’ll get there in a bit. But in general the context of ‘something’s wrong’ made the slight discrepancies on some details of his own history make more sense.

I also want to then bring up the next part to this story, the crossover issue in Teen Titans Academy.

(Teen Titans Academy #3)

So a few things. Does it feel weird to anyone else that Conner Kent, a known previous Titan who literally has a framed picture of himself in a case there, would set off alarm sensors like that? Wouldn’t he be... recognized as a Titan not an intruder by their sensors? Interesting! Anyways.

He looks really pained looking at that picture, and sad, and almost frustrated, which ya know makes sense and hurts my heart because he misses them! He misses his friends and being happy.

But, importantly for a criticism I wanna make thats less theory related and more just me bein annoyed at Tim Sheridan, that’s a picture of Conner. Right there. That’s Superboy, on display at Teen Titans Academy, so the people who frequent this building would know who he is and what he looks like and be able to recognize him, he’s even in the same outfit and everything. Alinta recognized him at the end of Suicide Squad #3.

So why does only one person during this big fight then comment on his presence?? Why doesn’t it get a bigger reaction???

(Teen Titans Academy #3)

And after the fight we don’t see any on panel moment of Wallace going up to the staff Titans (who weren’t present for the fight) and saying like “HEY NIGHTWING UHHH SUPERBOY WAS WITH THE SUICIDE SQUAD?” we just see him talking with his friends upset about Crush leaving. We see Alinta talking to them but we don’t see the exact dialogue. So I do just wanna take the writer by the shoulders and shake him a little bit and ask WHY because that just feels like... something you’d wanna address on panel! This is like the first time since joining the squad that Kon’s at all in contact with people from his life before Waller got involved, I feel like not addressing those people’s reactions to it/not discussing it at least a little bit on panel (especially when Conner CAME UP in the previous TTA issue, Dick brought him up and everything!!!) is a really odd choice. Maybe it’ll happen next issue and i’m just impatient, but who knows. Anyways, gripes with Sheridan aside, lets move on.

I wanna bring up how Conner... doesn’t really respond to Wallace’s question? At all? Except to just fight him off, not even an attempt at a ‘Sorry’ or anything? (the ‘Ha! That all you got?!’ seems to be coming from Culebra not Conner, although the placement of the bubble is vague enough it could be that it was supposed to be Conner? but it seems more like what she’d say, especially as she’s grabbing Emiko like that) That just feels weird. It feels off. In general he speaks so little in Suicide Squad #3 and this issue. Tbh it almost feels like he doesn’t really recognize Wallace which I mean I suppose they never exactly met (they would have theoretically during Death Metal, basically all past/present Titans were together for a while during that), but Kon’s been back in existing long enough he’d have a sense of who current heroes are anyways.

But right, so, lots of little things that feel weird... that gets us caught up to the most recently released comics... but in this household we look at solicits as they drop. Which gives us some info on what’s coming up a few months ahead of time, albeit without full context obviously. Issues #4 and #5 don’t mention Conner in their descriptions or show him on the covers at all, because there’s just other plot things going on, so ya know seems things will be quiet for him for a bit.

But then we got the August solicitations and oh BOY it’s a doozey for him! And some things start to kinda connect perhaps!

I want to just take a moment to look at that specific wording. “The teen calling himself Conner Kent” I’m probably reading too much into it but that feels deliberate, like why wouldn’t you just say ‘Conner Kent’? Usually these kinds of descriptions are trying to keep a low word count, not add in extra words that don’t need to be there. It makes it feel like that’s a name he’s using that... doesn’t actually belong to him.

So the theory I want to propose (that has been floating around already) is that based on these covers and the description, and how the Conner we’ve been seeing in Suicide Squad apparently talks about his own personal history like he’s ‘reading a wikipedia entry’ and had little response to people he should be aware of like Wallace and apparently isn’t recognized as a Titan through a bio-scan and also bearing in mind those initial promo arts with two separate looks at the same time for him... I think we're looking at a situation where the Conner in Suicide Squad so far has actually been a clone of original Conner (like... like he’s Match 2.0 or somethin) the whole time, that’s just not aware he’s not the original.

Now that’s the base theory I wanna work with and build off of, but there’s MANY different directions that could go in/ways that could work.

For example, one idea is that the Conner we saw in #1 who was chained up is the original Conner, and he’s been being cloned and held captive, so everything else with Conner in Suicide Squad so far has been this Match 2.0

Another idea could be the original Conner in #1 is also the Conner in #2 who Waller had then commented wasn’t ready during the mission in Arkham and had zapped with a lil Kryptonite, and after that moment she took him off the field because his spirit hadn’t been broken enough to be obedient (as he was a lot quieter in Issue #3 & the TTA crossover compared to #2, and #3 is when the Nocturna thing with the history happened)

Or it could even be original Conner in #1, then in #2 was one clone that wasn’t ‘ready’ that after that point she stopped using him, and switched to a diff clone for #3, because like that first cover did show a LOT of clones. That could be more just ‘artistic interpretation’ or something, covers sometimes do exaggerate/mislead, but it also could indicate we’re looking at a lot of clones.

(Suicide Squad (2021) #2)

With all of those in mind I also wanna bring up this little bit from Future State Suicide Squad:

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Again Future State is a ‘possible future’ so stuff from it isn’t set in stone, but the idea of ‘she still has his YJ 2019 outfit somewhere’ makes me think it could be something along the lines of like, Clone!Conner finds original Conner and frees him and he gets back his YJ outfit, which could lead to like the imagery on that variant cover/the idea from my very first part of this post where I was talking about Kon being shown in both outfits in different places.

Alternatively entirely from all that, another option is that she maybe got ahold of what was needed to clone Kon, but doesn’t even have the original Kon in her possession. (again with the Future State thing, she could be lying since elsewhere in Future State we did also see a copy of YJ 2019 Kon’s costume in one of the Jon-focused Future State comics in a display case 🤷‍♂️) Which could also lead to that confrontation on the variant cover & the promo art thing... and could also explain why we have seen nothing about anyone looking for him, because in that sort of scenario he wouldn’t have even been missing in the first place.

There’s a lot of possibilities! It’s still too early to solidly know anything, but I feel pretty confident we’re entering another cloning related plot with our Clone Boy so it’s... ya know. Clone time. On the one hand it’s annoying because god we have done clone/multiple Kons plots before. We’ve done them so much.

BUT on the other hand, I think it could be interesting to use this situation to tie into some older stuff from pre-reboot that I can see some connections to, because due to Infinite Frontier altering the world and people’s memories it’s all technically fair game storytelling-wise again (and like, the use of Scavenger specifically in that flashback way above, who’s not a super well known villain in general, makes me think maaaaybe the writer did do some of their Kon homework)

Something also just dawned on me that i’m not quite sure what it means but still is worth mentioning: The Conner here in Suicide Squad is back in his Teen Titans Vol. 3 outfit, and his history as he tells it stops during Teen Titans Vol. 3. And doesn’t... mention when he died? It feels like it... stopped before that, because like I feel if he was telling his life history (even the wiki version LMAO) the part where he died and came back would be pretty important to bring up?? And Nocturna specifically says that he didn’t explain how that stuff from TT Vol. 3 then led to him in his current situation. That’s a pretty big gap (like uhhh everything from resurrection until he got lost on Gemworld + all the rest of the Young Justice 2019 stuff?) So like.. there could be something funky going on here that has to do with that.

Similarly when he flashes back in Future State: Suicide Squad to his past it also goes right from Teen Titans Vol. 3 to the current Suicide Squad run? Like I get it’s one page so they can’t show that much, but the fact that there’s now two places that flash back to that same specific time period and nothing past it until the Suicide Squad feels just... noticeable! Not concretely indicative of something, but noteworthy.

(Future State: Suicide Squad #2)

Like...this almost has me thinking maybe it could be something where like, they tampered with his dead body and cloned from that? BECAUSE, for those of you who may not be familiar with how Kon’s resurrection (during Final Crisis: Legion of 3 Worlds) worked, when he came back there was time travel involved! He was brought back to life in the future (like. Legion of Superheroes era) because it was a process that took that thousand or so years to work/heal him (essentially because of his hybrid dna the process that healed Clark when he had died back in Death of Superman/Reign of the Supermen in the 90s just took a lot longer, but its the same Kryptonian healing chamber thing) meaning when he came back to the present alive again, his dead body was still also in the present just in it’s process of healing. Meaning especially if we’re bringing back stuff from before the reboot, Kon likely has his dead body just vibing out there while he’s goin around living life 🤷‍♂️

SO them doing something related to that could explain the choice to put him back in the T-shirt (since thats what he wore in the era his brain would be caught up to if we’re relating this to when he died) and why he’d recognize himself in a group photo with Bart, Cassie and Tim but maybe not someone like Wallace who didn’t exist back then. I don’t know, this branch of thought is still half baked. Will maybe come back and elaborate on this later. But I’m now really thinking there might be a connection to the early Teen Titans Vol. 3 era specifically because of it being referenced twice in stuff with this Suicide Squad.

ANYWAYS moving on, this is probably a shot in the dark and I only thought of it because I just was reading 90′s Superboy, but right away when thinking about ‘Amanda Waller’ and ‘Cloning Kon’ I was reminded of some stuff about the circumstances around the first clone that was made of Conner: Match.

(Superboy (1994) #35)

Match was created by an organization called ‘The Agenda’, that was after a while primarily under the control of The Contessa, Lex Luthor’s ex-wife, aided by Amanda Spence who had a personal grudge against Kon bc her dad was Paul Westfield the guy Kon was originally cloned from (before the Lex/Clark retcon). They were the big bad guys of an arc called The Evil Factory in Superboy (where Cadmus personnel got replaced with clones) which also then tied into the Sins of Youth event over in Young Justice (Remember how Match was posing as Superboy for a while there? yeah). After those plot lines finished the Agenda was pretty defeated (Amanda Spence was still out there and came back later but still) and... who got their hands on the remaining Agenda tech?

(Superboy (1994) #87)

Why none other than Amanda Waller herself!

If they re-canonized pieces of this (which also tied into Young Justice which ya know, YJ 2019 was all about re-establishing stuff from YJ even before Death Metal happened soooo) it would totally make sense for Waller to have complete access to the exact technology used to clone Conner before.

Now, a thing to consider here though is what happened to Kon after he’d been cloned that first time, where his DNA got all destabilized by the process (and he needed to go through a procedure with Roxy as a genetic template to keep him together, which was how he got stuck at age 16 for a while). This was something where he was fine for a period of time before the side effects began to kick in. Now, I think it’s worth mentioning that was also back in the days where he was not yet Lex & Clark’s clone, but still Paul Westfield’s. So there could easily be a ‘now that certain Kryptonian genes have kicked in as he got his newer powers it doesn’t destabilize him the same way’ reasoning or something along those lines to avoid this problem. Alternatively, it could be an interesting thing to embrace rather than retcon away, especially if we’ve been seeing Clone Conner in action and Original Conner hasn’t been in our focus, things could be wrong with him that we just don’t know about.

Another branch of thinking that I think is even MORE a shot in the dark but could be interesting (or again even related to what I just said, could be a combo of things) is if this somehow ended up related to those clones that were reverse engineered from the remains of Match from the very end of Teen Titans Vol. 3

(Teen Titans (2003) #99)

All of them were then taken down with Kryptonite and killed in battle (by Rose & Damian)

(Teen Titans (2003) #100)

But like... idk man if Waller got her hands on those corpses or even just the data from Dr. Caligan that he extracted from Match to make them... that could also be a potential way to make some new Conner clones, and that could be why the bio-scan thing at Titans Tower wouldn’t work properly because of the thing he says above about it not being a “complete match’

One thing I don’t think is the case, but has been brought up to me, is stuff with New 52 Kon. I’ve talked extensively about New 52 Kon in recent weeks because I read through all his stuff, but the thing that makes me shy away from him being part of this situation is the fact that... he’s not interchangeable with Kon the way I think some people think he is. He wouldn’t visually be recognized as Original Kon because he is literally on a genetic level a separate person. They’d prob look related, sure, like they’d pass for brothers because they both have Clark’s DNA, but New 52 Kon has Lois’ DNA and Original Kon has Lex’s. New 52 Kon would likely look more like Jon, rather than Kon. Lois specifically commented in an Action Comics issue that Kon had some resemblance to Lex, even. So like, things like Wallace recognizing him or him looking at his own matching reflection alongside the group picture at the Tower... those wouldn’t happen the same way if this was New 52 Kon.

Now I think it coooould theoretically be possible for Waller to have gotten her hands on that future N.O.W.H.E.R.E. cloning tech that had been used to make New 52 Kon, like I wouldn’t rule that out. Because she knows where the remains of their bases are as shown in Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #16-17, and like, Harvest is dead so she could easily just send teams out there to gather shit if she wanted.

Onto some other things I don’t think are actually related but that I was reminded of/wanted to address:

I feel i’d be a bad timkon fan if during all of this discussion of past stories with cloning Kon I didn’t even bring up Tim’s cloning attempt stuff, but I think it would ultimately be unrelated. His tech was stolen from Luthor, and his attempts didn’t succeed because he was trying to build from scratch without Cadmus’ the data about how they altered the DNA from the original process.

(Teen Titans Vol. 3 #34)

Then that initial cover for the annual really reminded me of part of the Hollow Men story from Superboy Vol. 5 just with like... Kon in a room full of copies of himself. I don’t think this story would be related either because it was more magic Tannarak stuff rather than regular cloning, but ya know. It’s the imagery.

(Superboy Vol. 5 #9)

It also really reminded me of the stuff from Hyper-Tension which was hypertime stuff not cloning but again just... visually.

(Superboy Vol. 4 #62)

In general I don’t think we’re EVER gonna see Black Zero or any of these multiverse Superboys again LMAO.

To try to sum up all of this in a way that might make sense here’s kinda a... flowchart of some of my main ideas for what the cloning situation could be/how the logic could work. Again this is borrowing stuff from across continuities because Infinite Frontier means theoretically anything’s fair game. (Also I don’t think I mentioned this earlier but I do mention it in the chart, but I think it’s also reasonable that Waller could get her hands on Cadmus tech if Cadmus is like properly made canon again. She just has funky government connections!)

Also I just now thought of this now several hours after I already made the chart and I don’t wanna remake it so sorry not incorporating it there but I remembered there was also that bit during House of Kent where Clark took Kon to the Hall of Justice and they were running some tests on him, so I’m thinking it’s also possible Waller got ahold of that data/that might be how she found out about Kon in the first place for this timeline. And they indicated that there was something wrong with him there, where he might eventually lose his powers or something, so maybe she tried to do cloning stuff to be able to have a copy of Superboy in his prime or something??? before that started kicking in. I don’t know, just more things to consider:

(Action Comics (2016) #1028)

ANYWAYS in conclusion: there is clone fuckery of some sort happening, I’m curious where it’s gonna go, and I just want Kon to be okay.

If you actually read this uhm. props to you bc this probably makes no sense to anyone but me its just word vomit <3

#this is very long! and disorganized! i am sorry #this doesn't have one theory abt things it has like. many #its basically just brainstorming/spitballing ideas #i could also be entirely off base! with much of this! i just feel i need that disclaimer #grandpa max is god? i go to church now #i need a kon talk tag bc i swear i write more analysis stuff like this for him than anyone else

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

Text

It’s You and Me - Chapter 3

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1770

Rating: E

Warnings: Injuries, blood, smut (MF, vaginal sex)

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back. Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you. For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down. Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father. Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 3: Now

You sat on the vanity with your shirt off while Clint patched up your arm. It was no surprise he was so deft at dealing with puncture wounds. Clint was extremely talented with the bow, but also a bit of a klutz. He always had been, so getting stabbed by his own arrows wasn’t that uncommon. As a result, he knew this particular wound and had done a good job patching you up. The wound had been cleaned and treated. The blood flow eased and he was just finishing up the dressings.

He tore the last piece of tape from the dressing and patted it in place. “That should do it. Thankfully it looked clean,” he said.

“I’m sure it will be fine. It's not the first time one of her snakes has bitten me,” you said, with a shrug.

Clint chuckled. “Well, same.”

You both laughed and he patted your thigh. “Thanks for helping me,” he said. “I know that really put you out on a line. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, well,” you said with a shrug. “What can I say, when it comes to you, I’m a soft touch.”

Clint chuckled. “That's not how I remember it.”

You laughed gently and reached forward, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his pants and drew him closer to you. He seemed to move too slow and you began to think he might not actually want this. That he might not want you.

He tilted his head, leaned in, hesitated for a moment, then cradled your jaw and kissed you. You kissed back passionately, wrapping your legs around his waist and drawing him closer to you. He started to grind against you, holding you against him as he pushed you back against the mirror. You moaned into his lips and bunched your hands into his hair. You had missed this so much. The desperate need and passion, along with the way he tried to keep you on the right path while he danced on and off his own.

His fingers deftly unfastened your bra and you tossed it aside as he kissed down your neck to your breasts. You let your head fall back against the glass and closed your eyes as you just enjoyed the feel of his mouth on you. His cock hardened in his pants as he ground against you and it added to that delicious friction against your cunt. Your traced your fingers down his back, those familiar muscles only hardened and developed with time.

Clint’s mouth returned to yours and he guided you down off the sink and pushed your pants down. You stepped out of the fabric and let him guide you using the hunger of your kiss into the bedroom. You were backed against the wall and you wrapped a leg around his waist grinding against his cock. “Fuck, Clint,” you gasped, as you hastily unbuckled his pants.

He chuckled and pushed them down looking over at his bed where his one-eyed golden retriever sat. “Lucky, get down,” he said.

The dog wagged his tail and for a moment you didn’t think he was going to move but he jumped down and moved to the dog bed in the corner. You pushed Clint back onto the bed. Clint groaned and pulled you down on top of him. You rolled your hips, your cunt dripping and soaking through your panties. Clint rutted up against you, the only thing separating his sex from yours was the thing cotton of his boxer shorts and the lace of your panties.

He rolled you over and pushed down his boxers as you wriggled out of your panties. A lightheaded, breathless feeling was setting in, yet you still would not break the kiss. The heat of his skin against yours and the tingling in your lips was addictive, and you didn’t want to break it for anything.

Clint reached over to his bedside table and fumbled for a condom. As he grabbed hold of a strip and pulled it over, knocking a book, and several electronic devices to the floor including his phone, you rolled him onto his back again and straddled his waist.

“God, I missed you,” he hummed as he watched you first tear one packet from the strip, and then tear the packet open.

“You’re the one who had to go and join SHIELD,” you teased as you rolled the rubber down over his shaft.

He groaned and rolled you again lining himself up and thrusting hard into you. You cried out and bucked up under him and Clint quickly covered your mouth and looked down into your eyes. “Shh…” he whispered, as he began to thrust hard into your cunt. “Gotta be quiet.”

You weren’t sure what prompted this need for silence. Perhaps he had thin walls and a neighbor who liked to complain. Maybe there was a roommate you weren’t aware of. Whatever it was, it was nothing except sexy, adding to that desperate frantic nature of what was happening. Like it was somehow illicit and forbidden. It reminded you of when you first started dating and living in old hostels with thin walls or roommates. Every moment together feeling slightly stolen. Perhaps that’s why he did it. The words ‘you gotta be quiet’ were common between you back before SHIELD.

You opened your mouth and he pushed two of his fingers inside. You sucked on them as he slowly moved them in and out of your mouth slowly countering the frantic thrusting of his hips. You mewled around his digits, the sound muffled by his hand. He looked down at you, his blue eyes completely blown out with lust as he fucked you hard.

You moved with him, rolling your hips and clenching your walls. He moaned and brought his hand between the two of you, rubbing your clit furiously as he pounded into your cunt.

You gasped and arched you back. Clint took his hand away and kissed you hard, smothering your cry as your orgasm hit. He groaned and his hips began to stutter and just as the last of your orgasm shuddered through you, he came, groaning into your lips.

You sighed and relaxed back on his mattress, settling into the soft, sleepy, high feeling you had. Today had been eventful and that was a good way to end it. Clint sat up and took off the condom, tying it off and throwing it in the trash. He rubbed your hip as he removed his hearing aids and lay down beside you spooning you from behind.

It had been such a long time since you and Clint had shared a bed. As you drifted off to sleep you couldn’t help but think about how nice it was to be wrapped in his arms again.

The sun was coming through the cracks in the blind when you woke and it took a moment for you to realize you weren’t in your bed. Your body ached and not just in the spot the snake had bitten you. You had that pleasant throb in your cunt and the strain from muscles you hadn’t used for a while getting an intense workout before you’d gone to sleep You sat up and stretched.

The space beside you was empty and you sat up and looked around. It wasn’t like Clint to get up before you, but then, it had been a long time since you’d last seen him.

Stranger than him not being there, was that your clothes were gone. There was a neatly folded pile of clothes on the chair by the door, that included a towel and a note. You got up and approached them cautiously. This was so unlike the Clint you knew that it was borderline worrying. It was like he was trying to send you a message that something bad had gone down and you half expected the note to be a ransom note from Zelda.

You picked up the note and furrowed your brow as you read.

Hey babe,

Take your time getting ready. Your clothes were kinda bloody so I took them to the laundry. They’ll be done this morning but in the meantime, I borrowed some clothes from a neighbor who looked about your size. Feel free to use the shower, but don’t come down naked.

-Clint.

You read the note over twice. Despite the fact that sending body armor off to be laundered was very strange, there didn’t seem to be any secret message involved and for the first time, you realized that maybe joining SHIELD had given Clint the change he needed. Maybe the angry boy you had known back in the day was gone and he had been replaced with a content and together man.

You decided that whatever the case, you might as well be clean before you went down to see what was up. You took a shower and changed the dressing on your bite wound before changing into the clothes Clint had left for you. They were the clothes of an old lady. The kind you might buy at Sears or Costco. The top was a floral loose-fitting blouse in a cheap polyester and there was a pair of tan slacks that sat almost at your rib cage when you did the buttons up. You laughed as you looked yourself over in the mirror and headed down to find Clint.

The stairs from the hall led straight down into the kitchen. The sound of bugs bunny cartoons playing on TV reached you as you descended the steps to find Clint making pancakes in the kitchen. The kitchen was a chaotic mess with dishes in the sink and batter and flower mixing together on the countertops to make a sticky mess. You smiled, slightly reassured that he didn’t have his shit completely together.

You crept up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

He hummed and ran his fingers over your knuckles. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” you whispered and looked down into the pan. There were two pancakes frying in butter. Both were a little messy, but there was a definite shape to them. The one on the left vaguely resembled a T-Rex. While the one on the right had a much clearer stegosaurus.

“Dinosaur pancakes?” You giggled, not really sure what to make of it.

He chuckled. “For Nate.”

“Nate?” You asked, puzzled.

He pointed out into the living room and you blanched. Sitting on the couch with his one-eyed dog, were three kids. “Yeah,” he said. “Nate. My son.”

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #it's you and me

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aravas-writing · 4 years ago

Note

This is a personal head-canon of mine that came to me after the ending of RWBY, Volume 8. This has been bugging me for a while and I thought 'Hey, why not throw this out there for people to see.' This is based on the lore of Dredgen Yor from the Destiny Franchise. If you don't know anything about Destiny's Lore or you just aren't interested in it, either click the link for the former or completely disregard this entirely if it's the former. If you do, well, enjoy.

https://www.destinypedia.com/Dredgen_Yor

"For as long as the Arc family has existed, there has been a tradition that has been passed down from generation to generation and has lasted to the current era. For every child born, the parents send a piece of their soul out to find their destined weapon, one that only they can wield. This has gone on for generations with no problem, each child wielding their weapons with the courage and the talent of an Arc. At least, that's how it went until a certain young boy was born. For the longest of time now, the Arcs have always tried to have a baby boy, but every attempt was met of them having a baby girl."

"Don't get them wrong, they loved each and every one of their children unconditionally, they just wished they could have a baby boy for once. It was only when they had a pair of triplets that was their first-ever son born, and their names were Jeanne, Joan, and Jaune. However, this was not because they all had similar weapons from the same ancestor, Jeanne and Joan had been bound to the weapons of Jeanne/Joan D'Arc, Jeanne wielding her flag, and Joan her sword. Jaune, however, was bound not to any of the weapons that came from the Arc family lineage, his mother's side of the family, but of his father's side."

"The weapon his soul was bonded to was a one that did not bring hope, but one that brought fear, one that brought with it a name that many saw as a bringer of death and destruction. Jaune was bound to the hand cannon known by one name: Thorn. This weapon had been sealed away to never be used again after the death of the original owner: Jaune's uncle, Dredgen Yor. The legend of this was one that was shrouded in both light and darkness, as the one known as formerly known as Rezyl Azzir had found a way to remove pieces of Grimm without them disappearing. With every piece he broke off, a better understanding of the Grimm was made. However, what many didn't know was that Rezyl had kept some as well and used them to make his weapon, once known as Rose, stronger. As time went on, though, Rezyl slowly started to see many things in his journey, horrible things. As he traveled from place to place, he found that the further from the kingdoms he got, the more lawless it got. At first, he thought it nothing more than the distance from the kingdoms that brought about such lawless behavior. That was, at least, until he started asking around. As it turned out, the kingdoms cared not for the frontier villages that had no worth, only those that furthered their power."

"As time passed, Rezyl started to see that the world was far darker than it appeared to be, as many monsters could appear in human skin. As he traveled around the village, learning how far the depths of the depravity went, something within him snapped. That night, the streets of the frontier town ran red with the blood of the guilty and the corrupt. That night, Rezyl Azzir was no more, and Dredgen Yor was born. For years, he had gone from place to place, his modicum of a hero now replaced by that of a killer. No matter where he went, death followed him, and every town would know of the man named Dredgen Yor."

"It was only when Shin Malphur had put him in the ground did his legend come to an end. However, that did not mean that every person saw him as a villain. The Shadows of Yor, a group that followed in his footsteps with replicas of Thorn, saw him as someone that would finally bring light to a world shrouded in darkness. Shin was also one that wasn't completely convinced that Dredgen was a villain, but he wasn't a member of the Shadows of Yor. Instead, he started looking for the truth, trying to understand why Dredgen did what he did."

"When learning that the young Jaune was bound Thorn, they did everything they could to distance him from the weapon: keeping him out of the vault whenever they were around, trying to train him with his great grandfather's sword Crocea Mors, even using any weapon from the vault whenever they tried training Jaune. Nothing worked, though. Each time he trained with a different weapon, he always said that it never felt right, that he didn't feel a connection with it. It was as if the weapon rejected him, simply because he was not destined to wield them. Then, one day he wandered into the vault. He didn't know why, but something had called out to him. It was right then and there that he found his destined weapon: Thorn. It had sat there in the very back of the vault, waiting for its destined wielder to reclaim it."

"Years had passed since that day, and many things had happened in that span of time. From Jaune meeting his uncle via the dream world, being taught everything he knew, to him even running away from home once Shin Malphur arrived one day. He had learned the truth of why they didn't want him to find Thorn, why they didn't want him to claim what was his. They feared he would become a monster, just like his uncle. Neither he nor Shin believed he was a monster, though. Jaune knew it first hand through his Uncle why he did what he did. When he did run away, he swore he would continue what his uncle started; he would bring to light what those monsters in human skin had done, both by ending their lives and leaving the evidence on their corpse. His first kill was a scorpion faunas who killed for someone he called a goddess, who called himself an executioner of all nonbelievers. He was a deranged madman was what he was. The two had fought each other for hours before the madman had been hit in the knee by one of the bullets. He thought it was just one of those normal bullets used by the Shadows of Yor, until green cracks started to form from the wound started. This was the real Thorn, and he had been poisoned with Necrosis. As he tried to get away, his body was being destroyed from the inside out by the poison that started in his leg and made its way to his brain. When he finally died, Jaune took his scroll and took retrieved every piece of useful information he could find; specifically, names and locations. He left the scroll on his kill, showing this to be one of his many calling cards. Now, he had names and places, for the current continent anyways. He'd look into the others after he cleansed Saunas' frontier villages of the ones that plagued the innocent. After all, he was Dredgen Yor now, and he had a job to do."

How do Teams RWBY, JNPR (Led by his sister Jeanne), His family, and Ozpin's inner circle react to the news of Dredgen Yor's return? You don't have to do all of them, you can choose either to do a select few, two different groups, or in separate parts (if you chose to read this and made it this far anyway).

Nope, not doing angst, not in the mood.

Will throw it out anyway for people. Also a friend of mine who doesn't have Tumblr. Maybe he can come up with something; destiny is really up his alley.

#rwby #destiny #jaune arc #dredgen yor

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felassan · 4 years ago

Text

Dragon Age development insights from David Gaider - PART 4

This information came from DG on a recent SummerfallStudios Twitch stream where he gave developer commentary while Liam Esler continued playing DAO from where they had left off in Part 1, 2 and 3. I transcribed it in case there’s anyone who can’t watch the stream (for example due to connection/tech limitations, data, time constraints, personal accessibility reasons, etc). A lot of it is centered on DAO, but there’s also insights into other parts of the franchise. Some of it is info which is known having been put out there in the past, and some of it is new. There’s a bit of overlap or repetition with topics covered in Parts 1-3. This post leaps from topic to topic as it’s a transcript of a conversational format. It’s under a cut due to length.

The stream can currently be watched back here. Next week LE will be streaming a different DAO playthrough with commentary from another guest. Two weeks from now LE and DG will return to continue this playthrough for another stream session like this one.

(Part 5, Part 6)

[wording and opinions DG’s, occasionally LE’s; paraphrased]

The Loghain sequences, where it jumps out of the HoF’s point of view to let the player see what Loghain is up to, were added quite late on in development. Some of the dream sequences (like the HoF’s dream of the Archdemon) were also probably added quite late. Those sequences were added as they felt that they needed to have more indication of the larger goings-on in terms of what Loghain was up to, since they had cut some stuff that was meant to have shown this. Cutting things can be funny like that as you’re then left trying to explain the holes.

An original Archdemon concept drawing had them as a lot more demonic as opposed to draconic, with blank all-black faces, a giant ornate crown, smoke, tentacles and a Cthulhu-esque feel. Things change a lot during the concept phase however. At the time, DG wasn’t sure if he liked the changing of the ‘demon’ into a ‘dragon’, but over time he digs it - it sorta implies some things about the nature of dragons in the world that they later decided “yes, that is probably the case”. They then worked that more into the lore so that dragons weren’t just there to be huge lizards. Given the difficulty the team had modelling things like tentacles and snakes, the original Archdemon concept would probably have been iterated on and would’ve had to become something else eventually anyway.

Having the party camp was probably always part of James Ohlen’s plan. Originally, there was going to be different camps in specific places around the map. They then made it a sort of ‘pocket area’ that the player always ‘took with them’, but here they had problems figuring out things like what would happen if the player rested while in an interior location as opposed to somewhere out in the wilderness, “like, does that change it?” For a while there was a complicated system where the party members would do things in camp that would give the player items and help out in such ways - like a party member who made potions, ones that could be interacted with and asked to craft, a whole crafting system relating to that, etc (this all got cut). This was supposed to act as a reason for the player to return to camp and have more interactions at camp; they didn’t want the camp just to be ‘the place you go just to talk to followers’. A good portion of the team considered dialogue to be boring and not an activity that was engaged in.

As soon as hair/beard hair came past the ‘clipping plane’ of the neck, they had real trouble getting it to move due to lack of proper cloth physics and the troubles they had with hair. Beards were rectangular strips that dangled from the chin with the beard texture attached to it. Sometimes certain points were connected to the chest which is why there’s the weird stretching if models move in certain ways. This happens with robes as well. The reason they did this is so that there’s no clipping. For some reason the BW animation team was so averse to clipping compared to other games from elsewhere which sometimes have a bit of clipping that they’re actually not fussed about. At one point they had a big fight on the DA team because the art team said “We need to make every entrance and doorway [including tents] about twice the size that it is, about Shale-size specifically, because of Shale” because they were worried that there would be scenes where Shale would clip through the wall, and about how this would look to players. Others responded that it’d be rare where Shale would be seen going through a door and also that nobody really cares (as in it’s not a big deal). DG half-seriously suggested that instead of making every door bigger, have it so that after entering the door’s texture at the sides and above it would look cracked and have an outline of Shale’s arms and head as if she’d just barreled her way through the stonework. In the end Shale’s size was reduced as a solution to this (so Shale was originally intended to be a lot larger). This is an example of a place where different parts of the team had different priorities in development. It was pointed out that in the end having giant doors may not have made much difference, as every interior in DA is massive in terms of floor and ceiling-space, as well as items (huge jugs of ale etc) anyway.

Weapons and staves hover on characters’ backs due to the team’s aforementioned aversion to clipping. Originally there were plans for scabbards and straps, but they didn’t have the resources for these and they were also concerned about staves clipping through straps, especially when being ‘drawn’ for combat, even though that would just be a second or so. So this is why we instead have floating magnetically-attached-looking weapons.

DG wrote Nature of the Beast including all of the Brecilian Forest, it’s possibly his favorite plot/questline out of the ones he wrote for DAO. It’s one of the plots that survived best from first inception to final result. One of the prominent cultural features of Ferelden is the werewolves, and so DG had to make ‘the werewolf plot’. All the initial plots were split up like that (the werewolf plot, the dwarf plot, etc). Originally there was a separate ‘elf plot’ but it got joined together with the werewolf one. DG had an idea for a being that was like male and female, terrible and kind, beautiful and horrible and so forth - both at once, like the way nature is. This was the vague initial idea from which this plot grew. The nature spirit encountered is the flipside of the being. The spirit of the forest is both male and female, or something akin to being bigender (both rather than neither). There’s not much difference between the Lady and Witherfang. DG finds it so weird hearing the DAO Dalish elves’ American accents (since their accents were changed for the next game). The American Dalish elf accents bugged DG enough that when they got to DA2, he said to Caroline Livingstone “can we just retcon this” and she was like “yeah”. “I think we underestimated how weird prevalent American accents in the game alongside the British ones would be”. Zathrian is voiced by Tim Russ (Tuvok from Star Trek).

The Cammen-Gheyna plot is a fairly ‘nothing-y’ sidequest relatively speaking, but is so complex in terms of how many options and paths through it that it has that DG got a big of a finger-wagging for it and some people were not happy. LE commented that this quest is “an extremely Gaider plot”, as the player can ruin everyone’s lives in it. Gheyna’s pronunciation of Andaran atish'an is incorrect. This phrase is one of the ones that got mixed up in the pronunciation guide and one of the ones that when they got to DA2, DG was like “ignore what we did before, here’s the new pronunciation files”. One of the first ‘images’ the team had of the Dalish was that they had reindeer-like creatures that pulled the aravels. In DAO aravels look more like standard wagons than the ones in the ‘images’, and they weren’t shown properly. Aravels are wagons but they’re supposed to have big sails (not naval-style sails on top) all over the place to catch the wind, so that they look like a bunch of ships being drawn across a field. They got closer to how they’re supposed to be in DAI. At one point the artists sat DG down and asked him what should set the Dalish apart visually. “Funny you should ask, I have some very specific ideas about what the Dalish should look like that have just never been done”. [I think here he meant hadn’t yet been implemented in the franchise] “Oh, we just thought they were ‘people with wagons’.” “Nobody reads documentation...”

The lamps in the Brecilian Forest are a bit random. They put light sources everywhere and it seems like the Brecilian lamp thing was art-asset use that boiled down to “guess it’s an elven forest?”. The Deep Roads were supposed to be properly dark. The team had a lot of conversations over how dark they could or should make the Deep Roads. They constantly had beams of light coming from above and it was like “this is supposed to be like a mile underground, why are there sunbeams coming through cracks in the ceiling” - the answer is it looks good and they didn’t want to do proper darkness. By DAI, they got closer to the ‘look’ the Deep Roads are supposed to have. This is a recurring theme in the DA franchise lol. “This was a weakness in our team and processes, that it took two titles before we got on board with each other and with the vision.” But they had plenty of good strengths too! DG wishes they had iterated a bit more on the werewolves’ look.

“Evil options” was always one of the big conversations that they had. DG wasn’t a fan of the evil options because they mostly boiled down to being a big jerk. The reason for this is a lengthy design discussion that relies on interface - proper, smart evil usually implies some kind of deception, and how do you indicate to the player that the option they’re about to take has a more cleverly-sinister aspect to it (as opposed to simple Intimidate options)? They didn’t really enjoy just letting the player run around being an asshole to people, “do we have to service this hyuk-hyuk-hyuk, particular type of enjoyment?” DG wishes they had figured out how to do the evil stuff a little better (feeling that in a game, doing good has less merit unless there’s temptation to do evil, and that evil paths should be more materially rewarding).

DG wrote The Dawn Will Come with some help from PW and Karin Weekes. It was the first song he wrote. Trevor Morris sent him the tune and he listened to it many times and wrote out the lyrics. PW and KW helped him make it “less awkward and cringey”. “They’re very good at that”. PW is good at poetry, KW is more musical and knows more about music. “If you get something which is as ridiculous as it is memorable, it’s probably Sheryl. If you get something that’s beautiful prose, it’s probably Mary. Something in-between is probably PW.” The DAI bardsongs were written by an external party brought in specially to do so. This required a fair bit of review and revision to make sure they followed DA lore. “It’s a problem we’ve always had trying to work with third parties, they tend to think that anything that falls under the umbrella of ‘medieval fantasy’ would fit in DA”. (Here DG groaned a bit thinking about Orson Scott Card.)

On the Grand Oak and co: “After I finished writing this I totally regretted it. It’s a big dialogue and there’s a lot involved in this quest. Do you know how hard it is to make somebody rhyme in a way that’s not completely cringey for the entire dialogue? I was three quarters into it and I so wanted to stop but I was past the point of no return. But I did it! And it worked out.” The Grand Oak should have been a LotR-style ent-like being in terms of animations and presence. When DG sees the Oak’s stationary pose he’s reminded of Silence of the Lambs. When he finished the Grand Oak and hermit quest he was like “I make way more trouble for myself than I should”. The Hermit cycles through random animations outside of conversation because he’s supposed to be twitchy and weird.

The haunted empty camp side encounter was a pain for the tech designers to make work because there’s no NPC to talk to. It was a pain whenever companions had to offer critical information like in these sorts of parts in fact, as they had to write 9 versions of each ‘line’ (1 for each companion).

There are certain spells/abilities in D&D that can make a GM’s life frustrating, such as teleportation, telling the future, resurrection. The fact that death is not permanent, for instance, should be a huge thing that affects society and how the people in it view death. This is why they were thinking stuff like “If every low-level mage in the setting had a skill like ‘Charm Person’, what would non-mages make of that?” This ties back to discussions in previous part/s where there are lore rules like no teleportation. DA was originally envisioned as a low-magic setting, but this didn’t last long [this subject is also covered in previous part/s]. The rules of magic didn’t really change though, they just weren’t really communicated that well to the other teams in the early days. They slowly realized that it was incumbent on the design team to explain and sell to the other teams the vision, not just expect them to read documentation. They were also constantly fighting against their own presuppositions of “DA is like D&D”.

Desire demons were supposed to be genderless. DG isn’t a fan of how the Fade turned out in DAO. The quests themselves were too long; they couldn’t do all the original plans they had for them so there was a lot of iteration, “then we ended up settling for something not very exciting”. Another big fight the team had was about whether they should have permanent death since DA was a more realistic world? One side’s argument was that ‘if you don’t allow for resurrection then we can’t have death in combat’. DG wondered if there was a different dichotomy they could get to but didn’t want to dictate how combat should work or tell combat designers how to do their job, as he wasn’t the one doing that work.

One of the best moves they made when working on DAI was the concept artist consulting cosplayers. This was good work not only in a fashion sense but also in that it led to making outfits for characters that someone could actually wear (contrast those with Sebastian’s outfit, which DG remembers cosplayers having trouble making functional/wearable and putting together). DG really wasn’t keen at all on Cole’s hat. When designing the clothing-clothing in DAO, the artists were trying to get the most variation for clothing out of assembling pieces. For the sake of variation they allowed pieces to go together that really shouldn’t go together. This allowed for a larger number of clothing options to be made out of a smaller number of clothing models/textures.

In Neverwinter Nights they added a “jiggle mesh” to the engine, it was used in only one place (Aribeth’s cleavage).

Writers are the first ones that jump onto a project, so when last touches and polish is being added to a game they’re often not aware of it. Once the writing is more or less locked down for a game, they start working on the next project. On every project at some point they had to have what they called the “profanity meeting”, where they decide what types of profanity exist in that world, what level of profanity they’re accepting, establishing the standard on this front, etc. This leads to fun meetings where they go through every profanity that they know and try to create new ones. “Maker’s breath!” and “Void take you!” are some of these kinds of things. They needed exclamations akin to “Goddamnit” but which made sense in this fantasy setting (“Goddamnit” implies the context of God, and the concept of damning, for example, so it doesn’t hold up) and weren’t just word substitution like “frack” instead of fuck or something.

The Grey Wardens gained their trademark blue and silver uniformed look for DA2. When the new art director Matt Goldman came on before DA2, he wanted to re-approach a number of things such as the darkspawn (mentioned in previous parts) and the Wardens. He wanted factions like the Wardens to be more uniform and easily identifiable at a distance by silhouettes and colors. He wanted factions to be more visually distinct and to introduce more color in general, as DAO was very brown and muddy. This was something of a standing mission of his when he came onto the project. He disliked the idea that there wasn’t anything unifying or distinct or ‘easily identifiable as a DAO screenshot’ about DAO screenshots, other than that brown muddiness.

Deciding how to design the Lady of the Forest was a long conversation due to the potential nsfw elements. It was a long haul to get her to look a certain way.

The thing DG found easiest/least painful to write was probably Zevran’s dialogue. He felt less pressure about it and had a bit more fun with it. Zevran has a certain story about trust that DG found pleasurable to build on; Zevran had grown up with a certain expectation of deceit and trauma, and when confronted with earnest feelings, that was the more puzzling part for [Zevran] to process. “When you expect everyone around you to deceive you, you’re kinda like, okay, this is life. But then to figure out, ‘oh, I guess it doesn’t need to be that way’, well how do you even... not?” DG remembers straight male players complaining on the forum after accepting Zevran’s massage tent-invite and not clocking that that was an invite of a certain nature. Overall Zevran was a more relaxed piece of writing for him. Shale came later but writing Shale was also a lot of fun. Like HK-47, “you can string together a few quirks that you find amusing and people will still treat that like a character and love it”.

In DA2 there was an entire subplot centered around the Carta and Varric. It spanned all three Acts. Mary Kirby had written it to completion and it was good. DG had to tell her it was among the cuts they needed to do because it was written a bit later relative to other stuff and because cutting it offered the most return according to the schedule and resources/subsequent downstream work. In cases like these they sometimes take the cut plotbeats and put it in a ‘box’, in the hopes that they may be able to use it for DLC or something later on. In practise this doesn’t happen very often at all. On DAO it did happen once with Shale. Shale was cut from DAO and had to be moved to become Day 1 DLC. Work on Shale therefore took place after most of the game had been finished. If they hadn’t done this, she would have been cut completely. It also sort of happened on DAO with Loghain. It originally had a whole plotline in Denerim involving him which had the player figuring out his background, motivations and interacting more with Anora. All of that got cut (requiring the cutscenes mentioned at the start of this post being added), and this is where the idea came of writing a novel (The Stolen Throne). This occurred in the period when the game had been delayed and DG particularly regretted that particular cut. He thought, “I could take this story that you were going to learn about the history of Loghain and his relationship with Cailan, and rescue it in a way.” [source]

[Part 1]

[Part 2]

[Part 3]

[Part 5]

[Part 6]

[‘Insights into DA dev from the Gamers For Groceries stream’ transcript]

#dragon age #bioware #video games #cole #spirit boy

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eve6262 · 3 years ago

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on Ghost types

Ghost types are strange.

There’s no other way to put it. Dragons are dragons- some kind, some cruel, all powerful and with common traits. Grass types are all some type of flora-fauna, bugs are creepy-crawly little things or their cousins, flying types like the wind beneath their wings.

Ghost types seem to all hold the collective trait of having been a dead soul once, and that’s it.

Some are naturally spiteful- Dusknoir are terrible to encounter outside of captivity, where they’re seemingly taught by their fellow ghost cousins (or by other things, much less effectively) that life can be more than pure hatred and fighting. Wild pokemon do not undersatnd this, and know nothing of happiness or joy.

Then there’s Gengar, a pokemon known only for its racous laughter and pranks. All it knows is joy and fun and happiness, seemingly, except the local Ghost gym leader told you they’re actually often very lonely, because everyone’s scared of them or hates them. He told you this while brushing a creature you didn’t know needed it, and it looked almost peaceful for the first time you’d ever seen it.

Perhaps it was the Polteageist that busied itself offering everyone tea from cups that came from seemingly nowhere. You, of course, refused the tea, knowing people shouldn’t drink it- would other Ghost types be affected? You watched the Cursola take a sip and nothing happened, and then you watched said gym leader also take a sip of the tea and have seemingly no reaction, except to thank his pokemon.

Of course, that brings you to the elegant type of Ghosts. They parade around looking like rich household items of the Victorian era- ornate teapots and chandeliers and the literal spirits of nobles, in the case of Jellicent. You’d only known of his Polteageist, but upon mentioning the archetype he also allowed you to ‘talk’ to a Chandelure he keeps around. Not his, he says- a close friend’s, but she’s been awfully busy so she asked him to take care of her for a day.

The thing doesn’t seem to mind him in the slighest- in fact, it keeps close to him like it would if he were its trainer. Either the two or close or he’s a liar, but somehow you can’t parse which one.

‘Talking’ to the Chandelure ended up meaning you were the victim of a prank and then a relaxing light show, at which point it was offered tea by the wandering teapot and accepted it, slowly drinking from its strange little mouth. There wasn’t much progress made, but it was interesting to see the thing exhibit traits of other archeypes- both mischevious and elegant. Somehow both at the same time, if you’re perfectly honest.

Then, of course, there’s the rest. See, that’s some of the problem in classifying them- there are some that are so wholly different from every other pokemon in its typing that it creates its own separate branch. Take Drifloon, for example, or the Drifblim he sent out just to hug for a big. They seem to float without a care in the world, unaware that the world is even happening around them until they’re hit by something. Often in nature they’ll even ignore the hit unless there’s a hostile pokemon at the ready for a fight, and even then they’re loathe to stay.

But not for the reasons that some pokemon flee. No, some wild pokemon flee because they are skittish, or because certain moves they know end up with them out of battle. Abra is notorious for knowing only how to whisk itself away into another spot.

Drifloons will go with the wind, no matter what that means. If they’re in the middle of a battle and a huge gust blows them away, they won’t stand their ground. They’ll simply leave. Only captive instances do this, content to hover around their trainers and attempt to fight anything that comes their way.

Then there’s Sandygast, which puts a wrench into all these problems by being simultaneously spiteful and playful. The Drifloon have seemingly no emotions, except maybe a contentment for life; Dusknoir knows spite; Gengar knows playfulness; Chandelure knows quiet elegance. Sandygast knows everything it wants to and then some, exhibiting every emotion you could think of even in the wild.

There’s no other types like that. Every Dragon type exibits every emotion in the wild; every steel type acts cold and unfeeling until in captivity. There’s no exceptions, no sub-types within types that aren’t formed colloquially rather than scientifically; there’s no pokemon that happen to act in a strange way or have habits that seem distinctly human. And thta part makes sense- they were dead people, once- but the way they go about it is so strange and distinctly pokemon-esque that it makes it seem like they never truly knew humanity.

And to top it off, pokemon like Dhelmise. The captain of a ship, the gym trainer told you, patting his Gengar’s head. The proud captain of a ship now buried beneath the ocean, but if they had enough power they’d all be sailing even on their seaweed-stricken vessels without any regard for laws or love.

Ghost types, you conclude as you leave the building, are an anomaly. And that, in itself, is very much like every Ghost you’ve met.

this sounds cool until you realize I wrote it because I want to play gengar in pokemon unite and the game will not let me because I need 1000 more coins fuck off nintendo lemme play my champ

~Eve6262

#pokemon #ghost #ghost type #short story #pokemon sword and shield #allister #pokemon allister #writing

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feminaexlux · 4 years ago

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Chartreux

This is from Lukanette February 2020 (which feels like years ago at this point, doesn't it?). I wanted to repost it as a whole story because I went back and re-read some of my old stuff that I posted separately and I'd like to share it again :)

Enjoy! AO3 chapter link

⁂

Note

Plagg floated in front of Adrien. "Kid, you're sick. How are you gonna be Chat Noir if you're delirious?"

"Ladybug needs me," Adrien groaned. Last time he checked his temperature it was around 39c. "She… she shouldn't handle the akuma on her own!"

"She'll be fine," Plagg sighed. "Get some rest! Take a nap, you'll feel better after."

Adrien frowned. "No, I need to help her. Plagg, claws ou-!" He coughed. It was a hoarse, lung-bruising cough. "Oww."

"Eww, gross," Plagg complained. "Humans are so disgusting."

"Ladybug needs backup…" Adrien sighed. "If she gets caught it's game over, Plagg. Hawkmoth wins and everyone loses!"

"She's got plenty of other helpers, Adrien! You gotta relax."

"No, it's dangerous because Hawkmoth knows who they are! She needs Chat Noir."

"Ugh, fiiiine. Leave it to me, again, to save the day," Plagg griped.

Adrien smiled. "I knew you'd come around. Plagg, claws-!" Plagg threw a pillow at Adrien and knocked him backward into his bed. Adrien immediately passed out.

"Knocked over by a feather. You sure woulda been useful to Ladybug like that." Plagg huffed and floated over to Adrien's hand, gingerly pulling off the Miraculous. "I gotta find Ladybug's other boyfriend," the little kwami sighed.

⁂

Luka Couffaine was watching the livestream of the latest akuma through his phone. For some reason Ladybug was fighting the twin gorgons by herself and Chat Noir was nowhere to be seen, which worried everyone. Hopefully Chat Noir was alright… it wasn't like him to let Ladybug handle everything by herself.

Suddenly a wide silver ring dropped into his lap. Luka's immediate impulse was to look up and find who dropped it, but he wasn't able to see anyone or anything that might have possibly done it. There was a voice in his head that told him to put it on, but he wasn't going to start wearing someone else's prized just put it on you blockhead

What?

for gouda's sake just put the darn ring on kid

Okay. The ring was talking to him. Luka reluctantly put it on. Plagg appeared before him. "Finally. I'm Plagg, kwami of Destruction, you're gonna be using me today to help Ladybug. Your power is Cataclysm and after you use it you only got 5 minutes to wrap it up. Once you guys have won hand me over to Ladybug and it'll alllll be done and I can finally get a nap. You got it?"

Luka breathed out the breath he hadn't known he held in. "You're Chat's kwami. That's why he's not dealing with the akuma right now."

"Smart kid, you've already figured it out. You get to be Chat Noir today. But maybe you should call yourself something else. How about Chartreux? Transformation phrase is Claws Out, detransformation is Claws In. Got it? Let's go already."

⁂

Ladybug had already used her Lucky Charm and… she wasn't able to figure out which of the two gorgons had the akumatized object in time. She kept having to dodge the petrification beams from two akumas (though she was sure one was a sentimonster clone), and her Lucky Charm had been a guitar pick! She had no idea what to do with it. Actually, scratch that, she knew Tikki or the Lucky Charm wanted her to reach out to Viperion, but… that was dangerous. Hawkmoth knew Luka was Viperion, so she'd try her best without his help right now. But where the heck was that cat?! "Chaaaat, I really could use your help right now!" She yelled out to no one in particular.

A dark figure landed nearby. "Sorry, Ladybug," said a familiar voice that was not Chat Noir's. "Chat's out of commission today, but… I'm his substitute." A tall figure in Chat's outfit - no, it was kind of… spikier? and dark gray? - spoke to Ladybug, spinning the baton to create a shield to block the petrification beams. Oh no. What happened? "I'm… Chartreux."

"Ummmm, hi," Ladybug said. "Well, if you're on my side then I'm glad to have you." She looked him over more closely when she had a chance. Taller, black fluffy hair with green tips instead of all blond, and he had black earrings? Earrings? Oh no. She knew his voice sounded familiar. Oh no. She'd know those lips and that jawline from anywhere since she spent so long staring at them as Marinette. Oh no.

"I got some explanation of things, so… I'll try my best."

Ladybug had to make a mental note that Chat!Luka was going to be very, very distracting.

Teddy Bear

Ladybug sighed heavily as her earrings kept beeping. She gave Chartreux a rundown of everything she saw with Madusa (times two, ugh) and what she was attacking (seemed like mostly other girls? Yikes). Ladybug gave her thoughts on how she might have been a jilted girl(friend) with Valentine's Day coming around the corner and Chartreux gave a lopsided smirk.

Dang it stop doing that Luka, she thought, staring at his lips again. She shook her head to focus. "Chat… I mean Chartreux, I'm so sorry but I have to recharge. I really hate to leave you alone like this but…"

"It's alright, Ladybug. I understand. I'll try to distract them and lead them away from civilians."

She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. For encouragement. "Good plan, thank you. I'll be back as soon as I can. Alright, bug out!"

⁂

Marinette detransformed behind a building and watched Chat!Luka leap away surprisingly gracefully from the building they had just been on top of. She was fascinated at how… fluid everything looked with him. He was kind of a natural at strategically using his baton as an impromptu high-bar to swing himself between spaces and levels while keeping buildings between him and the Madusas for cover.

"MARINETTE!" Tikki yelled, apparently not for the first time. "Marinette?"

"Oh! Oh gosh, Tikki! I'm sorry."

"We have to figure out which one is the sentimonster first. I think we need to separate them and find out where the amok is."

"Alright, good idea, Tikki! Let me see if I can find a safe place." Marinette ran toward the end of the alleyway and ducked her head out to take a quick scan and nearly got hit by a beam. "Whoa!!!"

Unfortunately, it appeared that while Chat!Luka was able to get the attention of one of the Madusas and lead her away, the other one kept circling back to the apparent epicenter of the akumatization. That gave Marinette an idea. She was looking around for cover when she felt an arm around her waist and yelped as she was pulled sideways.

"Marinette, what are you doing here?!" Chartreux yelled, stumbling a little but recovering when she turned to face him and threw her arms around him reflexively.

"Ch-Chat?! Wait, what?!" While Chat!Luka was making an abrupt quarter turn, Marinette got further pressed into him as he made a braking maneuver against a wall and then launched them into an adjoining alleyway. It happened so fast she got slightly dizzy. "Whoa," she moaned.

"Marinette?! Sorry, I'm much faster than I thought I'd be," Chartreux said apologetically.

"It's okay, L–CHAT–I mean! Wh-who are you?"

Chartreux snickered a little. "Just a friend," he winked. "Let's get you somewhere safe."

That was what Marinette had been trying to do… She noticed something in the corner of her eye and turned her head, spotting the wax museum. "Um! Can you drop me off there?" She pointed her arm and directed his line of sight. Chat!Luka slowed down and pulled her in tight against him, weaving around the two streams of the petrifying lasers from both Madusas when they spotted the hero running across the street.

⁂

Adrien woke up a bit less headachey than when he went to sleep, and he groaned sitting up on his bed. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. There was something… different about things, but he shrugged and assumed it felt off because he was sick. He sighed and got to his couch, turning on the television. He was hardly paying attention until he heard Nadja Chamack talking about Chat Noir rescuing a civilian and how Ladybug was missing.

He blinked his bleary eyes. "Plagg?" There wasn't a response. "PLAGG?!" He was suddenly wide awake and stood up a bit too quickly, getting lightheaded and dizzy. He fell back to his couch and looked at a close-up shot of "Chat Noir" and the civilian. That "Chat Noir" was… taller? And That "Chat Noir" was holding Adrien's favorite civilian Marinette Dupain-Cheng up against himself (pretty intimately, Adrien thought irritably) while heading away from the akumas. Maybe Adrien was hallucinating. Yeah, that was it, this was all just a bad fever dream.

The Real Chat Noir needed to go help Ladybug right away.

Adrien stumbled back to his bed in his exhausted state and pulled off the covers off of a lump on his bed, assuming he'd find the kwami settled in like the lazy cat he was. Instead Adrien found a teddy bear with a heart pillow, inscribed with a "Feel Better Soon ❤️".

Letters

If the Madusas were turning people into stone, then running through the wax museum where the "people" there were already immobile seemed to be a good plan. That had been the thought process running through Marinette's mind before she realized that she and Chartreux needed to evacuate the real people inside. Luckily Chartreux was already on that as soon as they opened the doors, directing people to go down to the subway, goodness bless that boy.

Marinette helped him as much as she could while she kept trying to lose him in the evacuating crowd to duck out and transform back into Ladybug. Of course of all the people the black cat Miraculous could have gone to, it went to Luka Couffaine, who ten times out of ten could find Marinette in the chaos. Marinette had counted.

"Chat-um-whatever, could you let me go? Don't I need to go hide?!" Marinette yelled at Chartreux, who had unabashedly let his tail wrap around her ankle to keep tabs on her.

"I know you're brave, Marinette, but you don't hide, you keep throwing yourself into danger as soon as I turn my back so I'm going to personally drop you off at home. Good idea on using the wax museum, though."

"But I can get Ladybug!" Marinette groaned.

Chartreux's ears twitched with irritation as he glared at her. "Ladybug's going to get here on her own, you don't need to-" Marinette saw one ear rotate backward and Chartreux ran, pulling Marinette along with him after taking her hand. The twin gorgons burst into the museum and started using their beams on the wax figures. They were temporarily confused when no one turned into stone.

Once they got their bearings, the twin gorgons ran in the same direction they saw Chartreux and Marinette run. The hero and civilian pair had hidden behind a relatively large dupe of Horrificator and were able to sneak past the Madusas into a staff locker room. "Well, I think I can hide here, at least," Marinette sighed.

"Can't say it's too comfortable, but it's better than nothing," Chartreux reluctantly agreed, opening a large locker for Marinette. "Sorry. I guess I should have taken you home first." Both Marinette and Chartreux heard one of the Madusas walk closer and try to open the door. Marinette made a split second decision and pulled Chartreux in the locker with her and closed it behind them.

The Madusa broke down the door and prowled in, scanning the room. She sniffed, annoyed at finding nothing of value, and left. When Chartreux heard the gorgon's footsteps fade away he burst out of the locker, red-faced and stammering out a hasty "S-sorry!"

He was about a full head taller than she was, so when they crammed into the locker he ended up occupying way more of her personal space than either of them expected. He pressed himself into the furthest corner away from her but his head still ended up on her shoulder and his arm braced against her and her legs in between his. He kept thinking how he was getting kind of hungry because she smelled like freshly baked bread and warm apple pie and man was he ever getting distracted by the fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng had pulled him in by the collar and now her hands were in his hair because they had nowhere else to go?

He stayed hidden with Marinette for several long seconds after the Madusa had left, ostensibly to make sure the akuma/sentimonster was far enough away, but maybe some part of him just kinda liked being held by Marinette.

"I'm sorry! I just pulled you in i-i-it was my fault so, so sorry," Marinette apologized back, also pretty embarrassed but fighting back a smirk at finding Chat!Luka so flustered. "I'll s-stay here and be out of your way, promise!"

Chartreux blew out a breath, composing himself, and nodded. "Stay safe. I mean it, Marinette, no heroics. That's my job."

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck," she giggled, closing the locker. Chartreux went red again, slightly taken aback, but then he chuckled to himself and turned to leave.

"Marinette, you're teasing the poor boy," Tikki giggled.

"I think we're both enjoying it," Marinette giggled back. "Are you ready, Tikki?" The little kwami nodded. "Alright, Spots On!"

Ladybug stepped out of the locker and called her Lucky Charm. She got a pack of fridge magnet alphabet letters? What was she going to do with that?

Composition

It was actually a pretty straightforward plan. Chartreux and Ladybug ran in opposite directions and the twin gorgons split up to chase the both of them. The heroes lead them into the same room at opposite ends, Ladybug tied them up together with her yoyo, Chartreux Cataclysm'd the floor and the Madusas got caught hanging upside down. The magnets caught the Madusa's dislodged necklace and pen before they fell into the molten hot wax.

Amok and akuma were dealt with, the akuma victim reassured, and the Miraculous Ladybugs deployed. The heroes bumped fists and called out "Bien Joué!"

Ladybug's earrings beeped and Chartreux stopped her from running off. "Wait! Plagg said I needed to give you the ring."

"Plagg said what?!"

Chartreux raised an eyebrow. "I'm supposed to give you Chat Noir's ring back."

"I… I-I don't know who Chat Noir is, actually," Ladybug laughed uneasily. "I'm not sure who to give it back to! How did you get the ring?"

"Really?" Both of Luka's eyebrows rose. "It… just dropped into my lap. What should I do?"

Ladybug's earrings beeped again. "Umm. I-I guess keep it? For now? I'll ask my kwami what I should do. Anyway, thank you for your help! I gotta run!"

⁂

Marinette yelped as Chartreux opened the locker she was hiding in. "Wow," he laughed. "You actually stayed safe."

"I-is it over?" Marinette asked.

"Yeah. I wanted to make sure you were alright." Chartreux extended a hand and helped Marinette get out of the locker and onto her feet. "I also said I was going to personally drop you off at home."

"You did!" Marinette giggled. "That would be great!"

⁂

Chartreux landed softly on Marinette's balcony with her in a bridal carry.

"You definitely know who I am because I definitely didn't tell you where my house is, and I still don't have your name," Marinette laughed.

Chartreux hummed. "I don't know if I'll be coming back as a hero so I don't think it matters if you know my name. I promise I am a friend though." He let Marinette down and she kissed him on the cheek. "Careful, you don't know if Alya's nearby taking pictures and you don't want to give the boy you like the wrong idea."

Marinette blinked. "The boy I like?"

"Adri-" "Luka?" Chat!Luka and Marinette said respectively, at the same time.

Chartreux was taken aback and flushed. "I think I'm giving him the right idea," Marinette giggled. "Your ring is beeping, by the way."

"Oh. Really? I mean. Right. Thanks. I'm… gonna go." He turned away awkwardly, still flushed.

"Chartreux?" Chat!Luka spun back in surprise. Marinette went up on her toes and kissed him. "Thanks for helping out today. You did a great job."

⁂

Chartreux detransformed in a quiet alleyway and Luka made his way home in a daze. Luka barely heard Plagg complain the lack of camembert and about how the Guardian should know who Chat Noir was and how the kwami apparently needed to do things himself and to haul the ring back across all of Paris and how much of a pain it was.

Luka got back onto the houseboat and went to his room and sat on his bed. Plagg had noticed that the boy was more or less unresponsive and sighed, deciding to hide in Luka's jacket pocket. Luka finally shook his head to get his bearings and looked around him, pulling out a blank sheet of music staff paper.

He was pretty sure Marinette knew he was Chartreux. He was pretty sure Marinette just let him know she was Ladybug.

He had some brand new music to compose.

Noir & Gris

"I hear that you're a big fan of Chat Gris," Adrien smirked as he leaned into his right hand, silver ring glinting off the sunlight that streamed into their classroom. "You and the Chat Noir from last week had a moment it seems!" He gave Marinette a sly wink.

"A-Adrien!" Marinette squeaked, turning red. "Shhh!!!" Marinette had already had to tamp down all the rumors around her and "Chat Gris" as they called him. Alya had been nearby and she did take pictures and of course one of the pictures was of Marinette when she kissed Chat!Luka. (How did that girl even get that angle?!) Alya thankfully had only shared it with Marinette… and then the rest of the girls, after Marinette had been too embarrassed to deny anything about it.

"I think you may be a cat person after all, Marinette," Adrien laughed.

"How did you find out?!" Marinette stage-whispered. "Alya promised not to show anyone else!"

"It wasn't Alya, I promise. I had my very own informant. But interesting detail, you have a picture?"

"I'm sure not showing you!" Marinette huffed.

"That's alright!" Adrien laughed. "Well, since you seemed to be so familiar with Chat Gris and Chat Noir, I was wondering what you thought of Gris versus Noir?" Adrien had leaned in further, intensely focused on Marinette.

Marinette blinked at him. "Uh… they were both… good."

"Really? You didn't miss anything about Chat Noir?"

"Well, I mean, both Chats were very… nice. They saved me from the akumas. I guess Chat Noir is… um. More of a jokester?"

"I'm hearing Chat Noir is more fun," Adrien smiled. "But go on."

"You have some weird selective hearing there," Marinette said. "Anyway I mean, I don't really have anything else to say?"

"Aww, too bad. I'm jealous, Marinette. You got to hang out with two different versions of the same hero!" And kissed both, but she wasn't going to mention that.

"Getting caught up in the akuma attacks is not something I'd call ‘hanging out', Adrien." Marinette rolled her eyes. "But they were cool."

"Do you think you'd wanna see Chat Gris again? Instead of Chat Noir?" Adrien asked, way softer than he spoke before.

"Hmm, I like Chat Noir. I think Chat Noir is great at being Chat Noir. Ladybug and Paris would miss him terribly if he wasn't going to show up anymore. I liked Gris and he helped everyone out really well, but I think Chat Noir is who Paris loves."

Adrien blushed. "Well, it's nice of you to say that. Chat Noir seems like a great guy, whoever he is under the mask."

Marinette smiled. "I think so too."

#rating G #fxl fic #lukanette endgame #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #chat!luka #lukanette #endgame lukanette

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noaltbruh · 4 years ago

Text

BRUNO SURVIVES AU

HUGE SPOILERS FROM PART 5, VENTO AUREO

Everything seemed to have come to an end, Giorno took one last look at the river where Diavolo had fallen down, then summoned Gold Experience Requiem.

For a reason not even the boy himself could understand...He was afraid of his stand. It kept on staring him right in the eyes, like a slave waiting for his master's commands.

He knew it couldn't hurt him, but it didn't matter, he couldn't bring himself to believe this was really an incarnation of his soul.

"At your service, how may I assist you?"

Upon hearing the stand talking like an independent identity, the fear inside Giorno's heart grew even bigger.

"I need to know...What have you done to Diavolo?"

He said, directing his sigh to the arrow stuck in its palm.

"I gave him the punishment a being like him deserves. He wished to be at the top, to overcome any...Error of his past, to become unkillable. And now... He will be experiencing death until everything ceases to exist. I'd dare to say, it's almost amusing, wouldn't you agree?"

The stand concluded, a little smirk formed on his face.

Giorno didn't have the courage to look at the...Creature he had just given life to, he instinctively turned around, facing away from it.

"Master? Aren't you satisfied with my work?"

The godly entity said, approaching his user, trying to get him to and face it.

But Giorno still resisted, instictly closing his eyes.

"Be more specific, what kind of punishment is he enduring?"

"He will be constantly sent to alternatives realities, and in each one of them he will experience a different form of death, like drowning, to make a simple example. Even right now, as we're talking, Diavolo has already been killed multiple times"

The young boy bit his lips, when he felt something touching him on the shoulder, it didn't take much to realize whose hand it was.

"What's the matter, Master? Your behavior is quite...Unusual"

"...Everything is fine"

"Allow me to remember you, that I'm nothing more than a manifestation of yourself, hiding your thoughts from me isn't going to be particularly useful"

"I'm not hiding anything"

He said, retracting his stand, a drop of blood fell on his chest

"Know your place"

He turned around and reopened his eyes; his attention was caught by Mista and Trish sharing a laugh together. Giorno wondered how they could be so carefree after everything they've been through.

Abbacchio... Narancia... Bucciarati...

He asked to himself how he could have ever explained to them that the man was gone, and that he had known it from the beginning.

"Come on Giorno, we gotta save Bucciarati!"

Mista said, interrupting his friend's thoughts.

The blonde, in return, did not say a word; trying to avoid anyone's gaze, he followed the older boy and Trish to the colosseum, bringing Polnareff along with them.

His steps were slow, reluctant, and heavy. He didn't have the courage to face what was going to happen next.

"Uh...This place didn't look so big earlier, we're gonna take hours to find him! Giorno, can you use Gold Experience to sense his life energy?"

"My stand has been quite active lately, I'd rather not overuse it, if you don't mind"

It was the best excuse he could make up on the moment, he has always had a talent to trick everyone around him as it pleased him, but this time...It was different. He wished he could have just run away, and convince himself that it was for the best.

Before Trish could answer, they heard a scream coming not very far away from them, it was Mista's.

The girl grabbed Giorno by the arm, and ran into the direction where the sound came from.

At last...There it was: Bucciarati's body. His eyes were open, but there was no flicker of light inside of them, just a plain, dull blue. A part of his clothes was torn, even though there wasn't a single drop of blood on him.

"It...It can't be...This is a joke, r-right? Bucciarati is going to wake up...He'll be fine...RIGHT?"

Trish fell to her knees, as the tears started flooding on her face.

Even if she had known the man in white for such a short time, he had been a better parental figure to her than her own father ever was.

Mista put an hand on her shoulder, trying to restrain from bursting in tears as well.

Giorno simply stood there, constantly switching his sigh from the two mourning teens to Bruno's corpse.

The shell of the turtle he was holding slipped away from his palms, and fell to the ground. Every inch of his body was shaking like the last leaf left on a tree in the middle of October, fighting back, to show that he was stronger than the ones around him.

Shaking...That's what he would always do whenever he felt fear invading him.

"There's no point in crying" is the phrase he'd constantly repeat to himself as a child, every time his mother would leave him in the middle of the night, or his father would brutally hit him with the closest object he could find.

When Narancia's soul left his body, for the first time in his life, Giorno felt his eyes getting wet, but he refused to let the tears flow, he couldn't show such sign of weakness in a situation where all of their lives were on the line.

But now... Staring at that body completely drained of any sign of energy, reminded him of the heart crushing sensation of seeing his closest friend vanishing in front of his eyes, and not being able to do anything to save him.

For a split second, he felt the urge to jump from the railing that ideally separated the two of them. He wanted to follow him, he didn't care where they would have gone, he could not bring himself to accept that Bruno was not there anymore.

Giorno was just a boy, and despite how much he didn't want to admit it, he was still immature, he refused to let go of the blue haired man.

He had already experienced it in Venezia; when he noticed that his attempts to keep in contact with Bucciarati inside the tower had failed, he panicked, and did something no member of an organization like Passione should do: disobey his Boss' orders.

And even then, his desire to keep him by his side...Was so strong that he said 'no' to death itself.

But in the end, it was useless, bringing him back was just a fake hope Giorno had decided to believe in.

Mista turned around to look at the boy, his expression was a mixture of anger and deep sadness. He was clutching his teeth, breathing heavily.

"What are you waiting for? Heal him! Bring him back before it's too late, or are you just going to stand there and let him suffer until he dies?"

"M-Mista...You know I can't do that, just like I couldn't bring Abbacchio or Narancia back, Bucciarati's soul has already left his body"

He reached out his arm into the gunman's direction, but Mista pulled away, pointing his stand right into the boy with green eyes' head.

"How are you so calm, uh? How aren't you shedding a single tear? Did you ever even care about him, about ANY of us?!"

"...I understand how you feel, but Bucciarati was perfectly aware of the risk he would have taken when we betrayed Diav-"

"YOU DON'T KNOW A DAMN THING, GIOVANNA! STOP ACTING LIKE YOU'RE SUPERIOR TO ALL OF US"

He said, nervously tickling the trigger. He was expecting Giorno to get back, or to at least show any kind of concern. But the boy did not flinch, looking at him with eyes emptier than Bucciarati's.

It almost seemed like it was exactly what he wanted: he was waiting- no, he was hoping for Mista to shoot at him.

"W-WHAT THE HELL GIORNO? DO YOU WANT ME TO P-PUT A FREAKING BULLET I-IN YOUR HEAD SO MUCH?"

"Do as it pleases you, I am not going to fight back"

"...You knew a-about this, didn't you? What did you do to him inside the tower in Venezia?"

"..."

Mista put the gun down, and grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him against the floor. Giorno's curls were reduced to a blonde mess.

The back of his clothes got torn as well, one of the lady bug ornaments fell to the ground, breaking in two.

"I told you, I'm not going to resist"

The calmness that came from his voice was unnatural, like a patient mother who had seen her child throwing a tantrum multiple times, and had become apathetic to it.

"I won't say it again, Giovanna. What did you do to Bucciarati in Venezia?"

Giorno sighed heavily, then took a deep breath. Despite how numb he may have looked from outside, he was just as much, if not, more hurt to see Bucciarati in that state than anyone else.

"Bucciarati was killed"

Those words resonated throughout the entire Colosseum. The two boys could hear Trish's sobs becoming even louder than before, but they brushed it off.

"...The hell are you talking about? Did you go insane? Are you seriously telling me your stand can bring people back from the dead? I want the truth, not some fairy ta-"

"You're not entirely wrong, but you are not right either"

"W-what did you just say?"

"I did bring him back to life, or so I thought...To the very least. But the energy that my Gold Experience was able to inject inside of him only lasted for a very short time. His soul was perfectly intact...But his body was simply too unstable"

Mista let go of the boy, gesturing for him to get up. The anger in his eyes seemed to have vanished, his tone was now resembling Giorno's.

"Alright, I believe you"

The latter picked up what was left of his left brooch, and tried to get some dust off his clothes.

"Very well, I'm glad we could-"

"Do it again"

Mista said, kneeling down to Bruno's level, to check the parts of his body that he had previously shot to.

"You said you brought him back, do it again"

Giorno got closer to his companion, putting an hand on his shoulder.

"Mista... I cannot do that, some stands are remarkably powerful, but they have limits too"

"Maybe before, but yours is not a normal stand anymore, if he managed to survive for a while using only its old powers, who says that it's not going to work permanently this time?"

"I'm-"

"Not leaving until you try"

He concluded, stepping back so that Giorno could have a full view of the body. Reluctantly, he summoned his stand, still avoiding doing eye contact as hard as he could.

"Master, if I may, I don't believe this is exactly a very smart idea"

"I know, and I agree, but we will never see the end of this if we don't at least give it a try"

"Don't...Please"

"What's the matter? In the worst case scenario, nothing will change, we'll just give Bucciarati the burial he deserves, and move on"

"This will be the biggest regret in your life, we don't have to do this, YOU are the Boss now, Mista has no authority over you"

"...You're right"

He gently put the man's head on his knees, placing an hand on his chest.

"And you don't either"

Before the stand could oppose any resistance, a blindly beam of light surrounded the three.

One, two, three minutes passed. Nonetheless, such a small period of time seemed to be never-ending.

Gold Experience Requiem vanished, accompanied by the sound of Giorno's heavy breathing, he could barely keep his eyes open.

That's when he suddenly heard something resonating, even though he could not tell where it came from.

It was a calm, slow sound, that seemed to become slightly more intense with every moment that passed.

Instinctively, he looked down, and was met with a pair of bright, blue, lively eyes staring back at him.

That sound...Was Bucciarati's heartbeat.

His lips were contracted, forming an imperceptible smile. He put his hand on the boy's, it was warm, and delicate.

"G-Giorno? I...I don't understand... Why am I here? Y-you...Didn't die, r-right? We were so close to d-defeating Diavolo, don't tell m-me..."

"Everything is okay, Bucciarati. I'm alive...And so are you"

"What? But...My s-soul...How did this happen?"

"I'm...Not quite sure, to be honest. I suppose my stand has truly surpassed any other"

In a matter of few seconds, the man found himself surrounded by Mista and Trish, who hugged him tight with tears in their eyes.

"Bucciarati...You're alive! It worked, it actually worked!"

"We...We thought we had lost you forever...I'm NEVER letting you go again!"

The man chuckled softly, moved by their genuine concern for him.

He turned his attention to Giorno, who had immediately retracted himself in the moment the two had threw themself on him.

"Aren't you happy to see me? Don't you want to join us?"

"I...never really liked physical contact, I hope you understand"

"Is that so?"

Bruno summoned Sticky Fingers, giving the blonde boy a small push from behind, making him fall right on him.

"Forgive me, but I have no intention of letting you out of this group hug"

He smiled sweetly, hoping for a smile in return, but Giorno lowered his head, his hands still welded to his hips.

"If...You insist"

#fanfiction #jojo #giornogiovanna #brunobucciarati #jojo golden wind #giorno #guidomista #trishuna #jjba #jojosbizarreadventures #jjba part 5 #bucciaratibruno #jjba bruno

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