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ladydigianna · 19 days

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ours || poly! uliana's crew x reader

|| note: AHHHH IM SO EXCITED FOR ALL OF YOU TO READ THIS

|| pairings: uliana x reader, hook x reader, morgie x reader, hades x reader, maleficent x reader, maleficent x hades

|| poly, fluff, jealousy

|| from the author: my favorite characters from rise of red mwa mwa

-fic under the cut-

The corridors of Merlin’s Academy were alive with activity, filled with a mix of students from different backgrounds—royals, villains, and everyone in between. You walked through the halls with a confident stride, a natural result of your royal upbringing. Yet, behind that confidence was a heart that had been captured by a rather unconventional group.

Uliana, Hook, Morgie, Hades, and Maleficent—they were your everything.

Your relationship with them had started slowly, each bond forming in its own time, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Uliana, with her sly smiles and endless charm, was the first to draw you in. Hook followed with his reckless grin and roguish wit. Morgie’s quiet strength, Hades’ surprisingly warm heart, and Maleficent’s fierce protectiveness—all of them had captured your heart in their own unique ways.

And they had captured each other’s too. Love flowed freely between all of you, a beautiful, tangled web of affection that defied the expectations of the world around you.

But today, something felt off.

You were outside by the fountain, chatting with your friends—Bridget, Ella, and Charming—when you noticed Uliana, Hook, Morgie, Hades, and Maleficent watching from a distance. Their expressions were tight, their postures stiff. Something was wrong.

After saying goodbye to your friends, you made your way over to them. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Uliana’s usual smirk was missing as she glanced at the others. Hook was the first to speak, his voice laced with a rare vulnerability. “(Y/N), why are you with us?”

You blinked, confused by the question. “What do you mean?”

Morgie sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against a tree. “You’re a royal, (Y/N). You have everything—the status, the friends, the perfect life. Why would you want to be with a bunch of misfits like us?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You looked around at them, seeing the insecurity and doubt in their eyes. Even Maleficent, usually so composed, looked unsure, her gaze fixed on the ground.

Hades was the one who broke the silence. “You could have anyone, (Y/N). Why choose us? We’re not like you. We’re... not enough.”

Your heart ached at the sight of their pain. You stepped forward, reaching for Uliana’s hand first. “You’re all more than enough for me. I don’t care about being a royal or what anyone else thinks. I care about you—all of you.”

You turned to Hook, placing a hand on his cheek. “You make me laugh like no one else can.”

Then to Morgie, brushing your fingers against his. “You’re strong and steady, always there when I need you.”

You faced Hades next, cupping his face in your hands. “You have the kindest heart, even if you try to hide it.”

And finally, to Maleficent, who met your gaze with uncertainty. “You’re fierce and protective, and I love that about you.”

You took a step back so you could see all of them at once. “I love you all for who you are. That’s why I’m with you—because you make me feel like I’m home.”

Uliana was the first to react, pulling you into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry,” she murmured into your hair. “We were just... scared, I guess.”

Hook joined in, wrapping his arms around both of you. “Yeah, we’re idiots.”

Morgie, Hades, and Maleficent followed, surrounding you in a warm, protective circle. “We’re lucky to have you,” Morgie said softly.

“And I’m lucky to have you,” you replied, squeezing them all tightly.

The tension melted away, replaced by the comforting warmth of being with the people you loved most in the world. Whatever doubts they had, you were determined to dispel them, to show them every day just how much they meant to you.

The next day, everything seemed to return to normal, or so you thought. You spent the morning attending classes, and during lunch, you hung out with your friends—Bridget, Ella, and Charming. They were laughing about something when Bridget’s expression grew serious.

“(Y/N), can we talk for a second?” Bridget asked, her tone low.

You nodded, curious but not alarmed. “Sure, what’s up?”

Ella and Charming exchanged glances before Ella spoke. “It’s about Uliana, Hook, Morgie, Hades, and Maleficent. They’ve been... well, they’ve been pulling pranks. Mean ones.”

Your stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”

Charming sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They’ve been targeting other students. Specifically, other royals.”

“They’re trying to prove something,” Bridget added, her voice gentle. “I don’t think it’s malicious, but it’s definitely causing problems.”

You felt a mix of disappointment and frustration. This wasn’t like them—not the people you knew and loved. But you also remembered the conversation you had with them the day before, how they had expressed their insecurities about your relationship. It all made sense now.

“Thanks for telling me,” you said, your voice steady. “I’ll handle it.”

You found them later that afternoon, gathered in their usual spot. They were laughing, clearly pleased with themselves over something. But when they saw you approaching, their smiles faltered.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” Uliana asked, noticing the serious expression on your face.

You crossed your arms, not bothering to mask your disappointment. “I know about the pranks.”

Their reactions varied—Uliana looked guilty, Hook tried to play it off with a grin, Morgie and Maleficent avoided your gaze, and Hades sighed deeply.

“Why?” you asked, your voice filled with hurt. “Why would you do something like this?”

“(Y/N), it’s not a big deal,” Hook started, but you cut him off.

“It is a big deal, Hook. You’re hurting people because you’re insecure. You’re trying to prove something that doesn’t need proving.”

Uliana frowned, her guilt turning to defensiveness. “They had it coming. Those royals look down on us. They think we’re nothing but trouble.”

“And you’re proving them right by acting like this!” you shot back. “You’re better than this. All of you are.”

Morgie finally spoke up, his voice subdued. “We just... we didn’t want to lose you. They have so much to offer, and we’re just...”

You softened at his words, your heart aching for them. “I chose you. I choose you every day. But this? This isn’t the way to handle it.”

Hades, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, taking your hand in his. “We’re sorry, (Y/N). We didn’t think it would get this far.”

You squeezed his hand, looking at each of them in turn. “You don’t need to prove anything to me. I love you for who you are, not for what you think you should be. I don’t want to see you hurting others because of your insecurities.”

Maleficent finally spoke, her voice low but sincere. “We won’t do it again. We’ll make it right.”

Uliana nodded, her earlier defensiveness melting away. “We’ll fix this, (Y/N). We promise.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling the tension leave your shoulders. “Thank you. I don’t want to see you guys hurt anyone, but I also don’t want to see you hurting yourselves with this kind of behavior.”

They all moved closer, surrounding you in a group hug that felt as warm and comforting as ever. Uliana pressed a kiss to your temple, Hook wrapped an arm around your waist, Morgie rested his forehead against yours, Hades held you close, and Maleficent gently touched your cheek.

“We love you, (Y/N),” Uliana whispered, and the others murmured their agreement.

“And I love you,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion. “We’re in this together, okay? No more doubts, no more pranks. Just us.”

They nodded, and you knew they meant it. The love you shared was stronger than any insecurities, any doubts. And together, you would face whatever challenges came your way, hand in hand.

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plutopitou · 11 months

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◇ Wash your mouth out with soap

bakugou katsuki x reader

wc: 1.1k | fluff, angst if you squint

Katsuki’s been criticized since he was a teenager about his brash personality, taking a toll on his mentality. But even from a distance he can see your brazen heart waiting for him, always.

This is slightly rewritten and reposted but enjoy luv u

Katsuki always had a mouth on him. Since the day you first saw his stone face on tv yelling at an interviewer in highschool, he’d grown to be known as the verbally abrasive hero- not that it mattered to him much at that time, anyway.

His mother had tried everything as the child grew up. The traditional hitting with her slipper, washing out his mouth with soap for ten minutes per cuss word; it proved to be unsuccessful and a distorted form of punishment that left a distinct scar in his memories.

“Pro Hero Dynamight verbally attacks civillian after villain attack!”

You look up to see the news headline pass through the screen with exclusive footage of your boyfriend getting into some verbal spew with a civilian, both covered in dust with a collapsed building in the background.

An ambulance pulls up to tend to the man’s injuries as Katsuki bitterly walks away from him before barking an unbleeped “Go fuck yourself”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his quick outburst as the channel rushes back to the flabbergasted news anchor not expecting his foul retort, undoubtedly questioning his qualifications to be a true hero. You’re swift to turn off the TV and focus on something else.

Katsuki’s persona he was given was not something unfamiliar or a wedge between the both of you. You vividly remembered your first awkward date with eachother. How after every minute you couldn’t count on one hand how many times he was vulgar the more drinks he threw back to ease his anxieties.

People always questioned how could you ever date someone like him. The hero with not just an explosive quirk but an explosive personality that just seemed to be distasteful and rude- how could any sane person stand to be with someone like him?

However, other people’s view of him was the farthest of himself.

The clock hits five minutes to midnight before the apartment door opens, a rustling noise emerging through with heavy footsteps. You close your laptop and look over at your boyfriend tossing his backpack to the side and hanging up his keys.

“‘M home.” Muttered from an annoyed expression. Katsuki’s brows are furrowed down as he pulls his sweatshirt off, his long sleeved hero shirt hugging his muscles from underneath.

Getting up from your seat near the kitchen, you eagerly prance to his fatigued spirit. You gently push back his blond hair, cupping his hot cheeks, planting a sweet kiss where he needed it most. He can feel his unsavory mood melt away as you pull away with nothing less than a pretty smile on your face. “I missed you.” You stated delicately.

His face slowly softens, muttering how much he missed you as well. “I was gonna call you when I got a chance, but fuckin’ assholes held me up today.” He breathes out, the distaste from the events you saw earlier leaked ferociously from his words. “Some man got pissed ‘cause I didn’t get his stupid phone while saving him from a collapsed building.. ungrateful ass just causin’ a scene in front of the press, per usual.”

You watch his features tense from how much he’s holding back letting himself become irritated again about the spew earlier- you can see through his emotions better than the finest telescope. It was the first quality he noticed when he first met you.

When he talked you paid attention to every word; not in a way of faux admiration because he was a famous hero, but in genuine care of what he had to say. You didn’t get upset when he would swear a lame joke, instead you laughed like a rhythmic lullaby to his ears.

Since starting UA, all eyes were on the best in the school and he was always watched and criticized the most. His track record of saving civilians since he got his hero license didn’t matter, it was always going to be about how he’s perceived by the public from the way the media spins narratives about him. He would never admit how much it hurt, he’d rather let Deku continue to be number one than do than let society know they can wear him down.

Katsuki couldn’t advert his gaze as you started to run hot water in the shower for him. You come back and are immediately grasped into his frame. The living room is dimly lit as you slowly sway with the tempo of his warm, mellow nature.

“Shower with me?” He whispers.

You look up from his chest, chin near his heartbeat. “Already did earlier, but you go ahead and ill set the bed up for you?”

The room smelled fresh with cool air and candles as the window curtain wisps with the melody of the breeze. Katsuki walks in shirtless with fresh sweatpants. His hair is limp and damp, skin smelling fresh and old scars on his chest and back able to breathe.

He groans lightly as he lays on his chest, head resting on his hands facing the window as you drip oil on his aching back; hands tracing down the tense cords of muscle and up his neck. Every push he releases a breath, unpacking all the negative emotion from the past twelve hours like therapy.

You loved to just stand and work magic on his body than in a sexual type of passion. It was the way you stared at the shape of the body he’d built himself since he was in school, the divots that are reminiscent of a smooth mountainous landscape. How an hour in you couldn’t tell if he was asleep the way his mouth is slightly open and his brows are straight and relaxed.

It was always a struggle to hold back the tears when he can safely sleep. You keep them back before he ever sees them; because if there was one thing you knew about Katsuki, it’s that he hates seeing someone feel bad for him.

Luckily for you, he never sees it, just feels it.

Katsuki took the hits and fall into his body without delay. There was no hesitation about it as one glance down at the grooves of pink skin peppered over his build can confirm it. It wasn’t something he regret, just something he pondered on.

You both found yourselves to fall into this routine a couple times a week when you see your boyfriend’s shoulders droop just a little lower than usual, when his gaze was just a bit more sheen with distance. It’s been years since the last war, but he was still stuck on the one inside himsef. It made your chest ache.

Outside the room he lays in he was known to be a foul-mouthed man with too much power than he knew to deal with.

You push down the curve of his back with the heel of your palm in the thought.

You wished it was that simple.

He was a young hero stuck with the weight of a cruel world on his back.

You finish kneading his muscular frame, your hands hot of every drip of emotion soaked up like a sponge in water. Turning to leave, you’re stopped with a pull at your hand.

Katsuki slowly pulls your body into his seated embrance. Your delicate fingers find his hair, rubbing down his soft back as his breath his head lays against your stomach, hands leaving ghost touches against your chilled back.

The warmth of his hands find your chin, pulling you down to his level. Your lips lightly brush over eachother before he presses his against yours gently. “I love you, you know..” He mumbles a centimeter away.

Your eyes flutter open, sweeping past the smell scar against his face to his red ones sweet with honey. “Of course I know, loser.”

In a second you’re flown to your back, Katsuki hovering over you playfully as you laugh in surprise.

Those people just wouldn’t get it.

I noticed i lose a bit of followers when I dont post for a bit or just unactive- im always here but inspiration is always a process for me to fully conjure up something as small as a 1k fic.

Please don’t be disappointed, I will try and get better with activity <3

Please like, follow, and reblog ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

#boku no academia #bnha fluff #bnha angst #bnha #bnha oneshots #bnha leaks #bnha fic #mha #my hero acedamia #bnha imagines #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugou x you #pitou.writes #pitou.fics #bnha fanfiction

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btsmosphere · 4 months

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Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 10: Is This Not Control?

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: You're forced to come to terms with the danger – and the beauty – in the way your powers burn.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 4.7k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, swearing, near-injury, arguing, skipping a meal, nightmares containing death (this is brief)

a/n: THIS is the chapter that made me keep going with this fic. I read it back after a looong break, and realised I wanted to finish after reading some of this where our main pair are so.... close... to revealing something. especially Jungkook... what is going through his head?

“You’re getting too good at this!”

The shriek came from Hobi, currently several metres in the air.

Laughing, you let him come down to you, where he landed with ease befitting a villain. You really ought to work on that yourself – which was precisely why you were here. He had asked you to train with him, bringing you the chance to work on something more athletic, and him to add even more danger into his death-defying stunts.

Smirking, you flipped your hair.

“Maybe next time I’ll really try, then you’ll have another think coming,” you goaded.

Grin wide, he scoffed.

“You really are as bad as Kook. He was always insufferable when we did this too!”

“You’ve trained like this with Jungkook?” you asked, “in that case, I don’t know why I’ve been going so easy on you.”

That joyous laugh of his filled the training space, already raring to go again.

“Let’s see what you got then!”

Just like that, he took off, eyes igniting yellow before he was springing from the floor and kicking off a higher block to rejoin the array of obstacles.

“Can’t fly, my ass,” you muttered, turning to take the long way up.

Even if Hobi claimed his power to be purely athletic, you still couldn’t fathom the way he navigated the skies with such ease unless some sort of gravity fuckery was involved. With a leap, you pulled yourself onto a platform, finding him already streaking ahead.

Beginning to run, you aimed your first shot at the same time as you launched over the next gap.

Blue cut through the air, Hobi’s laughter ringing out as it hit the floor he had just been standing on. By now, he was swinging away on suspended ropes.

Spyng another opening, you fired a longer bolt this time, forming a glowing barrier in the air. Kicking his legs up, Hope managed to swing and arc over it. Impressed, you cut off the attack, heart only stopping for a second as he landed hard against a ladder protruding from the wall. Though you had full faith in his abilities, it never got less jarring to see what he could pull off.

The two of you continued like that, a cat-and-mouse around the obstacles. It certainly kept you both on your toes.

As you went, settling into the movements, you took a few more risks. When in the training room, it was fun to test it out. Not to mention, knowing Hobi was this capable also boosted your confidence in having each other’s backs in a real situation.

Exhilarated from the rush of movement, you pushed yourself, sprinting and leaping over gaps and vaulting corners, an equal amount of focus on your electric offensive.

As much as you had joked with Hobi, you couldn’t bring yourself to aim with everything you had. Besides, aiming your shots to only brush the air beside him would improve your accuracy more, if anything.

In true Hope fashion, he stayed constantly ahead of you, practically running loops around the ceiling while you tried to keep up.

He leapt overhead as you pulled yourself onto a platform, making you spin to follow his change in direction. But you could predict the path he would take. Stopping for a moment, you raised your arm, lining it up to graze the soles of his trainers as he leapt towards a series of steps.

Pulling himself out of the way in time, his momentum continued his path while your bolts chased him, blue splashes in his wake.

Grinning, you finally followed him, jumping up a level and letting another shot go at the same time.

But as you landed, your feet slipped with the force, arms instinctively shooting out to correct your balance. The training room floor wobbled too far below you, teetering for a heart-stopping second at the edge.

Safely righted, you turned back to find Hobi.

Your chest tightened, heart seizing once more.

The dazzling, dangerous blue sizzled through the air, not hitting the mark you had intended. Time slowed down as Hope jerked away from it, only to fumble his footing on the next landing, only a thin ledge high on the wall.

His body slammed against it, his arms grappling for the edge he had just slipped from.

Blue collided, scorching the dark wall above him, but you could only watch in petrified terror as he started to fall. It was too fast, while your body was left frozen, powerless as he plummeted.

Somehow, he twisted, trying to kick off the wall on his way down, as you had seen him do so often. His path changed a little, velocity easing as he grasped a rope, but it escaped his fingers, unable to catch on with the speed of his fall.

He reached the floor. Rolled, half-colliding with the base of one of the scaffoldings you had just been racing around.

“Hobi!” you breathed, lungs only just beginning to cooperate.

With the newfound movement returning to you, you unthinkingly stepped off the side of your own platform, shooting blue lightning to the ground to support your descent. It wasn’t a skill you had practised much, and with the way your arms were shaking, you didn’t make it smoothly, but you stumbled onto the ground, just managing not to fall on your face.

You were already tripping over yourself to get to Hobi’s side.

He was sitting up – how, you had no idea. Somehow, you seemed the most stricken of the two as you practically collapsed at his side while he grinned around at you, rubbing his head. Was he hurt?

“Oh my goodness, Hobi, I’m so- I didn’t mean to actually-”

“Hey, don’t worry-” he tried to say, a bit breathless but still smiling. You barely heard him, though, hands quickly coming to his head where he was clutching it.

“Shit, I wasn’t looking, I shouldn’t have shot…”

Your panicked apologies accompanied you kneeling up, trying to get a look at him. Neither of you noticed the figure passing the doorway, stopping as he saw you two knelt together.

“Y/N!”

Hobi succeeded in getting your attention only by catching your wrists, stopping your hands as they fussed over him. Looking up at you, he fixed you with a firmer gaze than you were used to from him. Checking he had your attention, he placed your hands away from him and relaxed.

“I’m fine,” he emphasised, “you think you’re going to knock me down so easily? Imagine, ‘feared villain falls over in training, defeated.’”

Heart still pounding a little too much, you huffed a bewildered laugh.

Dropping your hands entirely, he sat back. You kept them there, some of the frantic energy fizzling from your body.

Grin taking up residence on his face once again, Hope leaned in conspirationally.

“I thought you would be pleased to get the one-up on me,” he teased, “you literally said you weren’t going to go easy.”

Your real challenge had been to aim near enough but not too close, but of course Hoseok didn’t know that. The precision practice you had been going for had failed, you hadn’t won!

Swallowing all that down, you half-heartedly tried to smile. You stayed kneeling opposite him, still too shaken to stand.

“Are you sure your head’s ok?” you asked weakly.

To your surprise, he laughed brightly. But then again, that was a signature Hobi response.

“Yeah, I just hadn’t bargained on a free haircut!”

Bringing his hand up back to the spot you had noticed him grabbing earlier, he pulled on a chunk of his hair, showing it to you. The lock was shorter than the rest of his hair which flopped around his head; it had been chopped off roughly, the ends singed and blackened.

You gaped, staring at it even as he let it fall back among his hair.

“See, it was only my hair, and it needs a chop,” he elbowed you, “no black hole through my heart!”

That certainly wasn’t an image you wanted. Any reminder of how close you had been to hurting your friend was unbearable, the black splotch in his hair bad enough.

You blanched, but didn’t get any further into apologising.

“Looks like she tried hard enough, though.”

Instantly, you tensed at Jungkook’s voice.

Hobi’s grin slipped a little, glancing past you. You, too, turned, finding Jungkook advancing, fists clenched at his sides. He had clearly come from working out: in his gym clothes, hair tied back but falling loose from movement. Except, in place of the animalistic vigour you knew training infused in him, his glare towards you was hard and shut-off.

It scared you more than what you had seen there before. Normally his fury burned, but now it was cold.

“Get away from him,” he ordered.

For once, nothing in you fought to argue. With the heavy weight of your mistake sitting in your stomach, you could only agree, and silently complied.

As you stood, Hobi shot to his feet quicker.

“Kook, leave it. We were training, this shit happens-”

“You were training with her?!” Jungkook exclaimed, “that was bound to end badly.”

“Then it’s my fault!” Hope pressed. He stepped towards Jungkook, but you only shrunk back from the two of them. “I asked her to join me!”

“You weren’t the one who shot you out of the air.”

“That’s hardly what-” Hobi sighed, “Kook, you’re being dense, there’s no problem. I trust Y/N.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” the younger ground back, before turning a glinting eye on you, “maybe you shouldn’t.”

You sucked in a breath at his words, feeling them lodge deep inside you like bullets. But it was your own guilt that dug them in there, the reason they didn’t deflect. He was right.

That didn’t make it sting any less.

Feeling nothing but his gaze fixed on you, you longed to escape it. Run free of the reminders of what you did, what you almost caused, and how that hurt him as well.

And so you did.

At least you kept yourself from breaking into a full sprint. After a charged moment, the tension not allowing you to breathe, you stepped desperately away, rushing for the door.

You paid no mind to Hope’s crestfallen call of your name.

Leaving them behind you, trying not to feel worse at the fact that you couldn’t even stand to face your guilt head-on, you simply blundered your way to your room. You knew some others would be in the kitchen, and didn’t want to alert them, so you forwent slamming your door.

The tension stayed crammed into your arms as you shut the door forcefully, yet painfully slowly. Your hands hovered, shaking, inches away from the wood as you stared at it, breathing heavily.

You breathed in, in, in, gasping like water was rising about your head.

And then, everything spilled out. A tide of air left your lungs, forehead falling forward against the wood, hands dropping despondently to your sides.

Among the whirlwind your life had become, you had focussed so hard on using your powers, building them, trying to prove something. Falling in and out with Jungkook, on top of this – but he had been right all along, hadn’t he? How had you forgotten the real danger this magic brought with it?

You didn’t blame Jungkook for not wanting you around the others. Gone from your mind were all the times you had shared with him and the others, head only filled with his stare. You couldn’t shake him.

That evening, you stayed in your room, not particularly feeling hungry. Or willing to face the others, more like.

You had only winced when Hoseok knocked on your door. Why should he be the one coming to you, after what you had done to him? It should be the other way around.

For tonight, you let yourself be a coward. At least you hoped the boys wouldn’t push; they never wanted to overstep. So you stayed silent, waited after he asked if you were there without giving any response. Waited until his footsteps left again.

Jimin also came past and said goodnight to your closed door, but he didn’t stop long.

Sleep didn’t come easily, and didn’t stay long. You simply seemed to get lost between the darkness in your room and your head. At some point, you thought another set of footsteps came to stop outside your door. But no one spoke.

Somewhere along the way, you must have fallen away from reality, but even then it kept knocking. You had no way of knowing just how deep into the night it was when you startled awake, throwing the tangled covers off you to escape.

You were left alone, panting and staring into the unforgiving shadows. They did nothing to erase your nightmare.

Blue shot from your hands, missing the mark. Hoseok fell, fell, body motionless. You had scrambled back, screaming, at the sight of his bloodied and pale face. The gaping black hole where his heart should have been glared at you.

Blue surrounded you, scorching through your limbs. The stench of burning filled your nostrils as sparks filled the air.

As you writhed on the floor, a row of your friends stood watching on. They didn’t move, frowning down at you. And you couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the power that forced itself from your body, striking them one by one, black burns streaked across their skin.

Last of all, Jungkook fell at your feet.

That had woken you up alright.

Itching to move, you finally decided to give up on sleep and got to your feet, throwing on a warmer sweater. Opening the door cautiously, you found only more darkness welcomed you from the rest of the house.

Still, you knew that with 8 people in one place, meeting someone was not out of the question.

You turned away from the communal kitchen, slipping out quietly towards the staircase which you followed down. On your way, you hugged your arms around you, some ridiculous fear possessing you that your powers could break free, like in your nightmares.

They hadn’t stirred, however, your control well practised. But that didn’t stop the phantom itching, memories of the ugliness your powers held.

The pain they had wrought on you when they first emerged – the pain they must have inflicted on countless others, who had never been as lucky to tell the tale like you. Were they your powers at all, not Bolt’s? But Bolt was a hero. Maybe it was you that made these powers so perilous-

Your feet hit the cool floor of the training hall.

Stilling, you stood and stared across the vast space. Cavernous in its emptiness, it sorely missed the life it usually had when the boys trained, filling it with colour.

Not really having an aim, you slowly walked to one of the adjoining spaces where you felt more apart from the world. Away from your friends. Your limbs moved like you were still sleeping, wrapped up in your head as you were.

You crossed the threshold and sighed. Then you sat, slowly sliding down the wall beside the doorway and curling into it. Retreating.

For a while, you simply breathed in the silence.

You tried to ignore the warring images in your mind. The sudden and unpredictable night when Bolt had changed your life. Back then, this power had been nothing but pain; it had tried to kill you.

But then, you couldn’t help but think of the people who had come to you when you lay alone on a dark road, burning up in Bolt’s wake. The man who the city thought was their hero had sent you off the edge of that building, not saved you. It had been a different group of heroes that came for you.

Mind wrestling with itself, you tried to reconcile the home you had been given, the safety and family that filled it, with this ugly, gnawing worry. Your group were powerful, had nothing to fear as you stood aside from the world.

But what if they should have been looking for a threat within?

You lowered your head to your hands, fingers threading through your hair and stretching, restless from this conflict.

The power that ran through these hands…

How had you grown to love it?

Staring at the floor as this thought struck you, you felt the thoughts grind to a stop. You blinked, relaxed your hands.

With an exhale, you sat straighter, bringing your palms in front of your face.

You had grown to love your power. If you threw your panic aside, you could feel…

Nothing.

No threat, no disobedience, no burn.

These were your powers. You wouldn’t let the thoughts of Bolt chase you away from them. You were in control.

Slowly, you breathed, feeling the flame in your chest ignite like sparks you were blowing to life. In no rush, you let the embers trace their way down your arms, collect in your palms and hover. Blue twined together in the air there. It wasn’t a callous beam of lightning, not aimed at anything, or anyone. Occasionally, a tendril of static would stray from its edges.

Sitting back, finally feeling some tension ease away, you gazed into the light. Neon and shadow swirled together in a globe.

This was what your friends had given you. The ability to control what could be dangerous – could. Instead, they had made it beautiful.

Your mind strayed against your will, thinking of the one person among them who had helped you shape this the most.

“I always knew you were reckless.”

Despite his words, Jungkook’s voice wasn’t harsh. Among the silence, his voice was low, flat rather than accusatory. You hadn’t heard him arrive, but his appearance seemed to come straight from your thoughts, and as such you didn’t even flinch.

You were pulled from your reverie, however.

Blinking at your still swirling orb of blue, it took a moment to catch up with reality before you turned slightly to see him standing in the doorway, looking down at you. His face was lit in pale blue, a light frown thrown into relief by this, the only light among the blackness.

His eyes bore into yours for a moment before he diverted them to the bundle of power you held in your hands, making a foreign lick of blue dance in his irises. The reflection was jarring, and you realised just how used to his warm, golden power you were.

“Reckless?” you repeated.

You saw the moment you took back his attention, his scrutinising eyes returning to you. He stepped into the space, hands buried in his pockets as he walked steadily around you.

“Do you know how much power it takes to kill? A hell of a lot less than you have right there.”

His feet fell evenly, barely audible. It was as if he fell into a short orbit of your globe, focussed intently on its presence where it hovered, its crackling surface and the light it emanated.

Then, he was opposite you, and his eyes flicked upwards. Locked with your own over the fizzing lightning.

“You had a good enough shot at it today.”

The instant his words hit, you bit down on your tongue. But you absorbed their impact, only needing to remind yourself of the energy, harmless in your palm, and the paths your mind had already been down tonight.

“That’s not what this is about,” you spoke softly.

It seemed to startle him, and he considered you for a moment. His keen gaze didn’t waver when he finally decided to press.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not shooting it at you, am I?”

His frown deepened.

“It’s not something that’s there just to look pretty. You- you need to control it.”

“Is this not control?”

He blinked. In the blue light, you saw for the first time complete surprise in his eyes, like such a thought had never crossed his mind. Always, he seemed to be steps ahead of you, but here he was stumped, lost…

Watching his mouth grapple with the ghosts of words, his eyes searching the sphere as if it would give him the answers he could understand, you softened. Instead of preparing to push back at him, you sighed.

And explained.

“It scared me. I don’t want to hurt Hope, of course I don’t. But where will it get me if I fear these… powers?”

You were aware of Jungkook’s eyes intently trained on you, but you let your powers magnetise your gaze. Staring into them, you lost yourself in their depths again.

“This could hurt someone, you’re right. It could kill you – well, maybe not you – but someone, if I wanted right now. But… I don’t. They’re mine. And… they’re beautiful.”

You sighed your last word. Maybe in a more awake state, you would have the presence of mind not to admit this all so readily to Jungkook, of all people. But just speaking the words gave you more confidence in them. You held the light steady.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had drawn closer. He looked down at you with an odd expression, more awkward with the steeper angle now he stopped beside you.

Realising his presence, you snapped away from the hypnotic light, turning to look questioningly at him.

He pressed his lips together, before making a stunted gesture with his arm.

“Can I-”

You stared blankly. A short huff left him, his frustrated gaze tearing away from you before he tried again, fixing you with a glare, as if it was your fault he was desperately embarrassed.

“Can I join you?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. His question had caught you off-guard, in honesty, though you tried not to show it.

He sat in a hurry, as if it would shake off the previous moment. In his haste, his shoulder brushed your own, and he shifted away a moment later, though the distance was still small enough to feel his warmth.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

The ball of light you had formed continued to roil in mid-air, almost proving your earlier words. You were in control, and it made no attempt to break away, to destroy.

Slowly, you lowered your hand, the light dimming with it.

You didn’t dare turn around or make any move nearer to Jungkook, still staring into the semi-darkness. But as your light faded, you caught a motion of his hand. He had turned it over, and flexed his fingers in a jerky way, but as he moved them a couple more times it became almost delicate.

Refusing to turn your head, you kept your eyes on it nonetheless. Jungkook must not have realised you were watching, as he turned his hand over contemplatively a couple of times.

All of a sudden, he seemed to give up, letting it drop. For a moment there, you had expected a warm golden light to join the weak blue that remained of yours. Not about to leave the pair of you in total darkness, you let a cool light simmer from your palms, but they rested on your knees rather than raising to illuminate the space.

It only extended so far as to surround you and Jungkook. A spotlight in the otherwise sleeping house.

You heard Jungkook’s head hit the wall with a soft thud. You heard his breath in, the way it screamed of having something to say. Something he was breathing in the courage for.

But then he breathed out.

While your mind had settled considerably, the reminder of just who you were next to put you on edge again. You would never have envisaged sitting peacefully side by side with Jungkook, yet here you were.

If he was stewing on how to break the silence, however, you were expectant.

Another breath in, followed by a moment where it was held. You did the same, almost tempted enough to turn to him.

The air left him.

“Bolt’s powers aren’t beautiful,” he blurted out. His sharp words landed a blunt blow to the silence.

You let the impact dissipate, breathing in.

“No,” you replied, “they aren’t.”

It was certainly true for you, who had felt their impact. But there was something of that same pain in Jungkook’s voice, the way he spat out the supposed hero’s name.

Beside you, Jungkook shifted.

“How can you say that?”

His words were hard, but you sensed he wasn’t butting his head against you for an argument. It was a genuine question, a lingering curiosity behind his bull-headed disguise.

“Because my powers aren’t Bolt’s,” you said softly, “not anymore. He may be the reason I got them, ours may be the same colour… but they’re in me. That’s got to be as a big a part of it as the lightning itself. The power would be nothing without me, but that’s not true the other way around. I’m more than them.”

“Yeah, well, people don’t see it like that.”

The bitterness in Jungkook’s words surprised you. Brow creasing, you finally looked around at him. He, too, was frowning, but it was directed at the floor, his head bent.

In the meagre light, the slope of his cheeks were washed in your blue, the slant of his slightly downturned lips outlined in shadow.

“Do you?”

At last, his eyes turned to you. A few of his dishevelled strands fell into them, but they still reflected back that blue in their troubled depths.

It took him too long to form an answer, or maybe it just dragged out as you stayed stuck in his gaze.

“Of course not,” he muttered, all in a hurry.

He diverted his eyes, reminding himself of his surroundings, the fact he was staring just as much as you.

But they betrayed him. They darted back to you once, twice.

He dropped his shoulders, before resolutely turning to you once more. Perhaps he had more to say on that strange noncommittal answer? You could only wait as he inhaled again, steeling himself for the words to come.

“…did it hurt?”

What?

You hadn’t expected that.

Nor did you expect the sudden weakness underlying his tone. The kind that made him sound as scared as you had been today, rather than the affront of anger you were used to. The kind you knew you were only hearing because it was the middle of the night, alone.

You searched his gaze, trying to puzzle out his question.

“Did what hurt?” you asked carefully.

His gaze didn’t falter, almost pleading, as if he could dredge the answers just from looking into your eyes.

“Bolt.”

You inhaled shallowly. You hadn’t needed the nightmare to remind you of just how excruciating it had been, your memory could tell you easily enough. That kind of experience couldn’t be forgotten so simply.

“Yes,” you forced out, honest and flat.

In his desperation, Jungkook must have leaned closer. Why he had such a need to drink in your answer was beyond you; he had never brought this up before.

You had no idea what more you could say, and were quickly getting distracted, your mind pushed off track by the inescapable eyes locked on yours. Around them, his face shifted at your words, falling almost imperceptibly. But you were busy drowning, engulfed in the dark irises lit with your own blue light.

Suddenly, he pulled away, leaving you reeling back to your surroundings, feeling like you had resurfaced, gasping, from a lake.

Refocussing, you breathed deeply, calming the powers. You had felt a small spark leap further from the contained glow in your hand.

Jungkook was hunched over, his elbows on his knees and head bowed once more, thoroughly defending his face from your sight. You had no idea where the tension that wracked his frame had come from.

There was no time granted for you to find out, however. He pushed himself up, only sparing a sideways glance for the blue radiating from your hands, before he stormed away as if he had never come.

Thank you for reading! If you liked it let me know! See you next Sunday💜💜

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daemonmage · 7 months

Text

A Stupid Batfam AU

Jason’s and Bruce’s rocky relationship is actually a pr move to make sure the rest of the batfam doesn’t get attacked by reporters and gcpd.

Essentially Red Hood, while liked by the Crime Alley citizens and other citizens as well, has a pretty bad reputation with a lot of the rest of the city. The GCPD hate him for his overt violence and the head incident. The Media hates him cause he’s what they all feared Batman would become and are constantly creating news stories on him. A lot of the other citizens are just scared of him cause sometimes his temper gets out of control. It’s not the best reputation.

Bruce and Jason have long since talked and settled their differences. Well, it’s more of a “I don’t approve of your methods but I will acknowledge you as a person who wants to help, but I will still dislike the guns. Also I missed you” from Bruce and “I’m not happy with a lot of your decisions but I also understand why you came to those decisions. I’m still mad but I now know that you missed me and I missed you too” from Jason. They’re better than they were originally and honestly that’s all they could hope for. Jason visits the manor more and is having fun being brothers to Dick and Tim.

Here’s the thing though… his reputation as Red Hood may have accidentally spread to the other Bats. A few team ups here and there (and the red bat on his chest) have made everyone assume that Batman is now working with Red Hood, a known crime lord. The media and GCPD were on them like flies on shit. Jim tries to calm down the gcpd with mixed results, but he can’t stop the media from blowing this out of proportion. It’s like the news channels from Dark Knight Returns, but worse.

Jason, who just got his family back, is fucking pissed. Jason is also dramatic as hell. Bruce was willing to just deal with this, but Tim is too new at this to be caught in the crossfire. Bruce was just gonna bench him out of fear until things calm down (he’s dealt with this before) but Jason brings up his plan to Bruce. Bruce isn’t as dramatic as Jason, however he is still absolutely dramatic. He agrees. So begins an epic fight between two ideals that ends two vigilantes at each other’s throats constantly.

Red Hood and Batman fight any time they are together, Red Hood is arrested by Batman on multiple occasions, and Red Hood always escapes leaving terrifying threats spray painted where the bat can see. (Jason and Bruce give each others shit for the pot shots they take and Bruce compliments Jason’s form when he gets a good hit in, Bruce gives Jason a heads up to the easier ways to get out of a police car and Jason ignores him going for the most dramatic ways, Bruce complains that the code Jason uses for his threats are obvious and he can just ask Alfred himself for cookies, why does Bruce have to be the middle man.)

The super hero community doesn’t really know this (cause they can be pretty bad actors at times, says Bruce) tis can cause problems. Superman and Green Arrow capturing Red Hood. Batman had to pull the “he’s Gotham’s problem give him to me,” which led to a hour of arguing to get Jason back. Tim’s friend have Red Hood on their hit list for what Hood did to Robin (Tim is over it but he does use this as a way to get back at his brother when he pisses him off) and Red Hood has to be on the Villain List to sell the act, so every hero ever knows the Red Hood is a villain. This leads to chaos.

There are still rough moments where Bruce and Jason still fight, but it’s better. Jason gets to hang out and play games with Tim. He plans overly dramatic fights with Dick (with full plot cause these two are so extra.) He helps Alfred in the kitchen again talking about books they’ve both read. He and Bruce talk again, they talk about their fears and what they’ve missed. It’s better, and that’s all that really matters.

#batman #batfam #red hood #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfam au #stupid au #dick grayson #nightwing #robin #tim drake #batfamily #this is so dumb #but its been in my head so now it here #I already have stuff for Tim and Dick specifically #which includes #teen titans

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thetomorrowshow · 2 months

Text

intruder

backstory of why jimmy and scott moved out of the super neighborhood in my empires superpowers au!

cw: murder (in SELF-DEFENSE) of an unnamed character, blood/violence, like a decent bit of it, injury, dissociation

Scott’s been missing for two days.

Scott’s been missing for two days, and Jimmy isn’t going to wait around doing nothing.

The news had come in the form of a knock on the front door, around 3pm on the first day. Jimmy doesn’t officially live at Scott’s house, but he spends a fair amount of time there, and now he pushes back from the kitchen table and heads to the front door, snapping on the mask that hangs on a hook by the entrance.

“Oh, hi, TJ!” Blossom says when he opens the door to find her on the step, flowers actively winding around in her hair. “Is Major around?”

Jimmy frowns, checks his watch. “Um, he left for work this morning, around eight? He shouldn’t be back until four, at the earliest.”

Why would Blossom be asking him this? Don’t they all have some sort of hero group chat?

“Are you sure?” Blossom’s smile drops. “Did he say he was headed somewhere else?”

“Just to work,” says Jimmy. “Why? What’s up?”

Blossom bites her lip, the flowers in her hair wilting. “He never showed,” she says. “He isn’t responding to messages.”

That’s enough for Jimmy to shut the door and run back to the table, grabbing his cell phone. Then he returns, pulling it open again. Blossom is still there, looking a little surprised.

Jimmy pulls up his contacts, clicks on the one labeled ‘scott :) - super’ and hits call.

“You’ve reached Major, I’m probably winning a battle right now. Send me a text and I’ll get back to you when I have a moment.”

Straight to voicemail.

That can’t be good.

“Try the Mad King,” Jimmy tells her. “I’m still working until four, but keep me updated. Do you have my number?”

But Blossom never texts him any news.

And Joel tells him, that night, that Scott’s officially missing, and they’re moving Jimmy to a safehouse.

So it isn’t even 8pm when Jimmy finds himself in a small apartment downtown, the dim light of the setting sun half-illuminating the single room.

And Jimmy stays there all night, staring at his phone, as his worry crescendos over and over again, blowing out lightbulbs and spoiling food can by can.

They still haven’t found him in the morning.

Jimmy can do nothing but sit, alone, in this cheap, unused apartment of Joel’s, waiting for some message that his boyfriend has been found.

But there’s nothing, and Jimmy isn’t going to wait around doing nothing when Scott could be getting tortured right now.

Because that’s it, really. When Jimmy went missing, it was because some horrid, insane villain kidnapped him and ran experiments on him and treated him like an animal—

One of the blades on the floor fan comes off, crashing to the bottom of the fan cage.

Jimmy takes a deep breath.

He can’t continue to sit here on the ragged carpet (because there’s no furniture other than a single folding chair and a mattress) while Scott could be going through the exact same things that he had been subjected to.

Or worse, he thinks, pushing back a sickening memory.

So Jimmy packs up his little backpack that he hasn’t actually unpacked yet except to get his toothbrush, grabs the mask he’d left on the kitchen counter (which he balls up and shoves in the pocket of his jeans), and leaves, ready to find Scott.

Where does Scott usually go first?

He covers all of the city, but rarely ventures away from the most densely populated areas. Downtown is one of his favorites to frequent, as well as the pier.

Good thing Jimmy knows downtown like the back of his hand.

He catches the bus like it’s second nature, the schedule practically tattooed on the inside of his eyelids (despite the fact that he rarely rode the bus for fear of causing an accident. He learned it in case anyone ever asked him the bus schedule). He hasn’t spent much time out and about on his own, but he can get around and he’s lived with Lizzie long enough to know how to go somewhere by himself. That doesn’t mean he isn’t careful: he sits at the back of the bus with his back pressed against the window and watches everyone, careful to sort them into threat categories and keep tabs on everyone.

It’s exhausting. It always is.

It isn’t long at all before he leaves the bus at one of Scott’s favorite places—right across the way from the elementary school. Scott heads here first thing most mornings, keeping an eye on the children as they arrive at school.

The mask is scrunched uncomfortably in Jimmy’s pocket. He wishes he could put it on. He hates going out in public—not without at least a baseball cap.

It feels like everyone at this park is watching him.

Any of them could be in league with whoever took Scott. Any of them could have been one of the thugs that worked for Xornoth. Any of them could be someone he hurt in the past.

Every time someone walks past him, Jimmy automatically tenses. That woman could attack him. That man could crush his skull. That child could be a distraction. That man could grab him and pull him into an alley.

Jimmy shoves his hands in his hoodie’s pocket so that he doesn’t have to look at how they tremble. This is why he doesn’t go places alone. This is why he works from home right now.

This is why people need to not get kidnapped. Specifically the people that can help him not panic about being kidnapped.

Right, now, does he usually patrol around the school? Or just wait out front and watch the kids go in?

If he was Scott, what would he do?

Scott would probably patrol. He likes to be moving, likes to show off his skills.

So Jimmy hikes out of the park and crosses the road to the school, following the sidewalk all around the building.

On one side is an alley between some run-down apartments, and Jimmy passes through, keeping a close eye on anything out of place. Any knocked-over trash cans, any smears of dirt or dried blood on buildings, anything that could be the signs of a struggle.

He feels more and more anxious the further down he goes, swallowing back the thrumming of his power within him, the scar at the base of his skull burning.

He can’t cause an accident here. He's next to an elementary school, he can’t risk it.

Can he?

What accidents can he cause here?

Jimmy’s never really reached out with his powers before on purpose—not in a long time, not in a searching way.

But his powers can cause terrible things to happen, things as far away as inside the school, and if his power can know that there’s things that far away to ruin, then can’t he know, too?

So he reaches out into the surrounding buildings.

There are a lot of people here.

That’s the first thing he feels.

There’s hundreds of children in the school, and one of these buildings is an apartment complex, and Jimmy can’t see them or even really sense them? He just . . . knows that they’re there, in some kind of . . . sixth sense?

There are so many other things that he knows are there, but can’t verbalize. He simply knows, to an overwhelming degree, the contents of everything around and maybe there’s a reason he’s never done this before because he thinks he’s going to be sick—

“TJ!”

Jimmy flinches, hears something crash in the distance. He wheels around—this could be it this is the moment he’s kidnapped—, only to find fWhip standing at the mouth of the alley.

“Why are you out and about?” fWhip asks, moseying over, hands in his pockets. “Don’t you usually stay home from the cool parties?”

Right. He knows fWhip. Kind of. fWhip is nice, right? He helped save him.

Jimmy isn’t wearing his mask. Which is fine. It’s fine to not be wearing it, because fWhip recognized him anyways and his secret identity isn’t contingent on a mask anymore.

“Um, I’m looking for Major,” he says, head still spinning a bit. “He usually goes here every morning, and nobody saw him for his whole shift, so if he got kidnapped it was probably near—”

“Wait, Major’s missing?”

Jimmy frowns. “Yeah, did you not hear? He disappeared yesterday.”

fWhip checks over his shoulder, adjusts his goggles. “Okay. Not good. And if Major’s missing, why aren’t you in a safehouse?”

“Well, I was,” Jinmy says, looking down at his feet. How has he been caught already? He just barely left!

“But you couldn’t stick around when Major could be . . . being tortured?” guesses fWhip.

Jimmy shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah,” he says dejectedly. “But I can go back. The Mad King would—”

“Nah, don’t do that. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. Do you need help looking?”

And before Jimmy can so much as process what he’s said, fWhip is reaching up to the window in the building beside them, testing the latch and finding it open.

“Let’s check out this place,” he suggests, shoving the window open and grabbing the sill, pushing himself up and into the window in an impressive show of upper-body strength.

Jimmy blinks.

He didn’t expect to be joined in his search.

Let alone by fWhip.

“Okay, nobody’s here,” fWhip calls out the window. “You coming?”

“Is there a door?” Jimmy asks halfheartedly.

fWhip shrugs.

Jimmy sighs, grips the windowsill (a bit lower for him than it had been for fWhip), and heaves himself up, legs kicking for purchase on the wall and arms trembling under his weight.

He falls back once, arm scraping a bit against the sill, then manages to pull himself up the second time, his ribcage pressed in painfully against the windowsill, where he hangs for a moment before tipping over and landing in a heap on the other side.

“Try to roll when you come in,” fWhip advises as Jimmy picks himself up. “It’s easier. And way more cool.”

“I’ll remember that,” Jimmy grumbles, brushing the copious streaks of dust off his hoodie.

“So we’re looking at an abandoned first floor of some office building, I think,” fWhip says, flipping a switch on his goggles. “See anything?”

Jimmy looks around. It’s a fairly large space, the concrete ground scarred by the torn-up carpet (some of which still lies in an awkward heap against a wall), a single dead office chair sitting in the middle of the room. Otherwise, there’s some brightly-colored papers in a corner, and—

The front door slams open.

“TJ,” comes a suspicious and familiar voice.

The Mad King is standing in the doorway.

“Rats,” fWhip says, frowning. “Did you follow me?”

“You and Mythics are always up to no good,” Joel tells him dismissively, before turning back to Jimmy, arms crossed. “Why are you here?”

“Um . . . looking for Major?” Jimmy tries.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “With fWhip? Come on, TJ, if you were going to break house arrest it should’ve been with someone respectable.”

“Hey!”

“Come on, back to the safehouse.”

“But—”

“TJ,” Joel says firmly. “We aren’t arguing about this. I’ll keep looking for Major, yeah? You need—”

“But I, I can help!” Jimmy insists. This isn’t fair, he shouldn’t be locked up when his boyfriend could be going through the worst experiences of his life—

“Jimmy,” Joel grits out. fWhip makes a ‘yikes’ face, turns to start going through the neon papers in the corner.

“Since Major has been kidnapped, they will want to get the people he cares about the most—you,” Joel stresses. “They will want to hurt you to get him to give up whatever information they’re looking for. That’s why—”

“I know, I know, but I can defend myself,” argues Jimmy. “It’s—it’s Sc—I mean, it’s Major. I have to help. And I know—”

“You’re helping by staying safe,” says Joel. “I’m not arguing about this, okay?”

“Who would have a bake sale and then put the signs in an abandoned building?” fWhip murmurs, examining one of the said signs.

Which is stupid.

This is stupid.

How does Joel expect him to just sit there?

How can he tell Jimmy to go hide and let Scott get hurt?

But there’s no point in fighting this.

“Maybe there’s some way you can help from the apartment, okay?” Joel says placatingly, and Jimmy rolls his eyes.

“Sure. Fine, take me back, officer.”

“Don’t get an attitude with me, young man,” Joel warns, sputtering jokingly, but Jimmy’s stomach squirms just the slightest bit.

He’s not a child.

“fWhip, I’ll be back here in half an hour, okay?” Joel says. “Let me know if you find anything.”

Then he strides out the door, Jimmy reluctantly following along behind.

Joel finds Scott the next day.

It’s a small place, a closed mechanic shop, near the East side of the city, where this particular gang of villains decided to keep him.

Joel finds him by checking the security footage of the elementary school. He sees, in the corner of one of the cameras, a couple of neon signs hanging on the side of the building fWhip and Jimmy had broken into.

Backing it up a little bit, Joel finds the car that carried the people who hung up the signs (something they did several hours before dawn).

And when he tracks down that car, he finds Scott.

Jimmy receives the text that Scott’s been found and instantly calls Lizzie, begging her for a ride home. Lizzie agrees, and when Joel and Scott come through the front door, Jimmy is there waiting, a frozen pizza in the oven.

Jimmy drops everything, his stress releasing in a little burst of power that crashes his phone and knocks all the cushions off the sofa, hurrying toward Scott.

Scott looks absolutely exhausted. His suit is torn here and there, his hair tangled and greasy, his eyelids drooping. But he gives Jimmy a small smile and acquiesces to a gentle hug.

“Glad you’re safe,” Scott murmurs. “I was worried.”

Jimmy chuckles, pitched a little high with nerves. “You were worried? Imagine my state!”

Scott pulls away, plants a small kiss on Jimmy’s lips before tugging off his mask, mouth twisting in a grimace.

There’s a large bruise on his cheek, and a small line of them down his jaw, but he otherwise doesn’t seem to be in very bad condition. Still, Jimmy frets, hands twisting anxiously.

“Where are you hurt? Do you need to get checked out? You really should go to the hospital, just in—”

“I’m fine,” Scott cuts him off. “Just some bruises. It’s all right.”

Even so, Scott stands there patiently, as Jimmy takes in every part of him.

He seems to be telling the truth. Nothing looks broken or like it’s bleeding too badly. He’s holding himself a little gingerly, though, that could be a broken rib—

Jimmy prods at his chest and Scott steps back, hands over himself.

“It’s not broken,” Scott says, teeth gritted. “Joel already tried it. Just a deep bruise.”

“Probably the worst kidnappers I’ve ever seen,” Joel calls from the kitchen, where he’d gone after pushing past the two of them in the hall. “Didn’t even know how to torture him properly.”

Torture? “Scott, I’m so sorry—do you need anything? Should I schedule you a therapy appointment?”

Scott bursts out laughing. “Thank you, baby,” he says. “I’m fine. I promise. Just tired.”

“And an idiot,” adds Joel. “How’d you manage to get kidnapped by such an incompetent lot?”

“Their signs said homemade croissants,” Scott moans, walking into the kitchen as if nothing ever happened (though his arm is still wrapped around his ribs). “You know I love supporting small local businesses.”

“’Twas your downfall,” Joel intones, snickering. “Sorry, mate.”

Jimmy follows awkwardly, not entirely sure how to behave.

Scott’s . . . fine?

He hadn’t even considered that as an outcome. He hadn’t dared to think that Scott might return without severe injuries, without being traumatized by the torture and greatly needing help returning to the real world.

Like Jimmy had been.

He doesn’t know what he can even do.

How can he help Scott when Scott doesn’t need help?

So Jimmy just kind of hovers, near Scott, as he sits there and eats pizza and jokes a little with Joel.

Then Scott leaves to go shower, and Joel shoots Jimmy a sympathetic smile.

“He’s fine,” Joel assures him. “He may be a bit clumsy for a while—his hands were zip-tied pretty tightly together—but he’s really fine.”

It’s hard to believe him.

But Jimmy just nods and resolves to not treat Scott strangely. He’s fine, after all.

If he’s fine, then so is Jimmy.

That night, there’s something wrong.

Jimmy wakes up quite suddenly, the odd sixth sense that he’d probed at the other day ringing with the notice that something is off.

He doesn’t know what. He doesn’t know what’s changed in their surroundings, but he knows that it’s not quite right and he needs to be aware of it.

Jimmy blinks open his eyes, glances over to Scott to reassure himself that his partner is safely there.

And leaning over Scott, a knife gleaming in their hand and poised above Scott’s chest, is a person dressed in black.

Jimmy reacts immediately.

He dives over Scott, knocking the man’s arm just as he sinks the knife down—Scott wakes with a cry of pain, the knife carving a jagged line in his chest and up his shoulder as the man is knocked off course.

Jimmy rolls off of Scott, faces the intruder for a brief second.

The intruder spits out a curse, then barrels into Jimmy, brandishing his knife.

Jimmy moves on instinct. He grapples with the man, twists his wrist with the knife—the man slashes at him, but Jimmy twists further until his grip loosens on the hilt, and then he takes the knife.

He spent hours and days and weeks training with Xornoth in knife work and he knows exactly how to attack to injure, which spots are the most painful without being fatal. He stabs the knife into the attacker’s upper arm, then into his side when he howls and twists away, and Jimmy can’t help but show off a bit as he flips the knife to his other hand and drives it into the man’s knee.

The intruder falls to his knees, and Jimmy’s head is pounding with the adrenaline, and he can’t move his focus from taking this man out entirely because he tried to kill Scott—

Jimmy spins around to be behind the man, hands on his throat—the man grabs at his wrists, nails scrabbling against his skin—and sends a burst of power out.

Under his sweaty palms, knife still tucked between the fingers of his right hand, Jimmy feels the man’s neck break. Not just the bone: his vocal cords snap—his muscles fall loose—his throat collapses, and so does the man, falling heavily to the carpet.

Jimmy stands there, panting.

Scott wheezes in pain.

Jimmy fumbles on the bedside table, grabs Scott’s hero phone with fingers slick with blood. He presses the emergency button on the side, holds it down for a solid five seconds.

Then he drops it back on the table, opens one of the drawers to pull out Scott’s mask.

“Jimmy,” Scott gasps, sitting up, clutching his arm over the slash in his shirt. “Are—are you okay?”

Jimmy nods, then he clicks on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in low, yellow light, and surveys Scott.

There’s a sheen of sweat over Scott’s bruised face, his eyes pained and confused (and concerned, and very very worried), but Jimmy barely registers that as his eyes find the wound.

His nightshirt is soaked in blood, spreading out from the slash, and it only takes one glance at the wound for Jimmy to know that it needs a professional to take a look at it. He doesn’t know near enough about injuries to know anything other than that it looks bad.

He leans over Scott (Scott flinches back) and pulls the mask over his face, carefully holding the knife pointed away from him. His hair catches a bit in the eyeholes and Jimmy doesn’t do anything about it.

"Major?" calls a voice from below, and Jimmy spins around, knife held out, as he hears the stairs creak with running footsteps. Was there back-up? No matter. There won’t be, soon.

A pajama-clad Blossom pushes open the door from where it's half-open (Scott always closes the door when they go to bed), her hands flying to her mouth when she takes in the scene. "Oh my gosh—Major, TJ, what happened? Should I call an ambulance? I'll call one—"

"Hello? Is everything okay?"

More footsteps, then Gem appears, mask pulled over tangled hair.

"Hi, we need an ambulance—the address—"

"What happened?" Gem says, echoing Blossom's words as Blossom turns away, one hand covering the ear not pressed to her phone.

Scott pushes himself up further, grimacing. "Intruder," he manages, nodding toward the body on the floor. Gem glances at it, before her eyes fix on Jimmy.

"TJ, sit down—where are you hurt? Where do you guys keep your first aid kit?"

"It's not my blood," Jimmy says, his voice too loud in his ears. He gestures with the knife toward the motionless body, the neck appearing kind of . . . squashed. "I'm fine. Check Major."

"Shoot, the attacker," Gem mutters. "Blossom, tell them that there's two or three people that need—"

"He's dead," Jimmy interrupts. "Don't worry about him. Check Major."

Gem blinks.

Meets Jimmy's eyes.

"Okay," she says after a moment. "I'll check Major. Did you kill him?"

Jimmy swallows.

"He was attacking us," he says stiffly. "He stabbed Major. I acted in self-defense."

Gem moves around and climbs onto Jimmy's empty side of the bed, still keeping an eye on him even as she checks out Scott, pulling away his shirt and asking quiet questions (to which Scott responds, his breath shallow and words faltering).

"The ambulance should be here soon," Blossom says, moving toward the foot of the bed. "TJ, you're covered in blood—set that knife down, let me help you."

"It's not my blood," Jimmy says again. "I'm fine."

"Okay, then—"

"You help Major," Gem says, slipping off the bed and coming back over. "I'll help TJ wash up. C'mon."

Numbly, Jimmy follows her out of the room, checking over his shoulder to make sure Scott is okay. Scott waves him on with the hand that isn’t held to his chest, and Jimmy continues down the hall, into the bathroom.

"We'll have to make this quick," Gem says. "Sit down. And give me that knife."

Jimmy doesn't want to give her the knife. He pulls it back to his chest when she reaches for it, thumbs the blade protectively.

"I need the knife to give it to Major, so that when the police get here we can have a convincing story without you in it. Make sense?"

After considering, Jimmy nods. It makes sense.

And that means he needs to not be here.

He hands over the knife. "I killed him," he says. "If they ask, Major stabbed him three times. Then he fell and broke his neck."

Gem shakes her head. "Okay. Wow. Okay. You know we don't normally kill people, right? Never mind. I'll go give this to Major."

Jimmy glances in the mirror as she steps past. There's blood spattered across his face, more in splashes on his nightshirt and shorts and arms. His eyes, cold and wide, peer back at him out of his pale face.

He needs to get out of here.

Gem returns after two or three minutes, handing Jimmy a jacket (one of Scott’s, he distantly notices).

"Zip that up over the blood, rinse off your hands, and let's go," she says. "We'll head to my place. Blossom will ride with Major in the ambulance. It doesn't look too bad, so he should be okay."

Jimmy obeys, letting Gem turn on the water so he can stick his hands under the cold spray.

For a moment, he's back there—just trying to scrub the blood off his hands from his first intentional murder in the sink with the broken handle.

Then he blinks, looking down at the sink, at the red running off his hands.

"Good enough. Let's go."

Joel joins them in Gem's dark kitchen after about two hours, stripping off a pair of gloves. He's fully dressed in his supersuit, his hair unbrushed and his posture stooped, looking more exhausted than ever.

"Gem, you have anything caffeinated?" Joel asks, opening a cupboard.

"Yeah, there's a pot of coffee already made. Mugs are in the left cupboard."

Jimmy watches as Joel finds a mug, fills it up with coffee, and then takes a swig of it black.

"Thanks," he says, face scrunching up at the taste. Joel doesn't like black coffee. Jimmy knows that. He always adds cream and sugar.

"Major's okay," Joel informs them, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table to sit across from them.

Jimmy's been here more or less in silence for the past hour and a half, staring at the wooden table. When they'd first come in, Gem had sent him to wash his hands and arms and face better than he had before, but there's nothing they can do about his sleepclothes, so he's just been sitting here in a blood-spattered t-shirt for a while. Gem had joined him after pulling a hoodie over her pajamas and starting the coffee maker, and has since sat beside him, working on a crossword puzzle.

"Major's okay, he and Blossom are at the hospital now. The intruder was pronounced dead on site. Major identified him as one of the men who kidnapped him."

Jimmy doesn't feel anything.

No sense of satisfaction at knowing that the man truly deserved it, no fear at how close they had been to getting killed, no guilt for his actions.

Nothing.

"TJ," Joel says hesitantly, "how are you doing?"

Jimmy shrugs.

He's still covered in the blood of the man he murdered.

"They say killing is like riding a bike," Jimmy says after a long pause. "You never quite forget how to do it."

Gem sighs. Joel winces.

"Right. Well, we don't really kill people, as a general rule. It's kind of, like, against the law."

The law.

As if the law applies to heroes and villains.

Jimmy's not really sure which one he is right now.

Neither, probably. Which means the law should apply to him, even if it hasn’t stuck in the past.

"I've never really been one to follow the law," Jimmy says.

"Sure, but as a person—"

He isn't a person. If anything was to prove that fact, it would be tonight. He hadn’t thought, he’d just acted, and even now the first feeling that he can even register is the feeling of not feeling. He isn’t a person.

He's a weapon.

He's a pet.

That's the word that triggers his therapy brain.

"I'm in a bad headspace," Jimmy interrupts Joel, using words that he'd rehearsed with Nora. "I don't feel like a person right now. I might be dissociating."

"We have to talk about this," Joel insists. "We can't run away from hard conversations—"

"I promised I would never kill again," Jimmy whispers, and, ah. There’s the panic. Detached and not quite real, but panic nonetheless. "I can't escape it. I'm not—I can't. I'm a weapon, I was made to be a weapon, I—"

"Stop that right now," says Joel firmly. "You are a person, and you just saved someone from being killed. It was self-defense, not mindless."

Jimmy almost laughs, because to some extent, it was mindless. He acted entirely on instinct, following the training Xornoth had given him, whether or not it was self-defense.

He doesn't like hurting people.

He never wanted to go back to being a villain.

It's not even that he's upset about killing that specific man. Screw that man, he tried to kill his boyfriend.

He's really just afraid that now that he's killed one person, he'll keep doing it. It isn’t like anyone can stop him. Nobody can stop him, not even himself, and he wouldn’t even care if his current state has anything to say about it.

"TJ," Gem says carefully, "why did you kill that man?"

Jimmy frowns. Why? "To protect Major."

"Do you have any desire to kill people outside of defense?"

Does he?

He's never had the desire to kill.

Not even when he was getting rewarded for it. Killing was something he did to survive, to escape severe punishment, or accidentally.

And here, he killed to protect. To save his boyfriend. He didn't get any satisfaction out of it. He certainly didn't enjoy it. He doesn't want to do it again.

That cuts through the foggy panic in his mind, the fear that he might keep going, that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

"No," he says, then stronger, "no. I never want to kill. I hate it. I only do it when I have to."

Joel lets out a breath of relief. "Thank goodness. Okay, next issue. You and Major clearly aren't safe here. Do you want to try to stick it out, or should we start moving you two as soon as possible?"

Jimmy hadn't even thought about it.

Of course they aren't safe here—he hadn't been safe alone, when Scott was kidnapped and he had to be moved to the safehouse. Why did he think that things would magically change just because Scott was here? Every villain in the city knows where they live. The rest of the gang that kidnapped Scott could show up on their doorstep at any time, even more angry than before.

Anyone could show up at any time.

Jimmy doesn't feel as secure as he used to feel, surrounded by superheroes as they are.

"We'll move," Jimmy decides. "As soon as Major is back, we're moving. It just isn't safe here."

They’ll move.

Then he’ll deal with this numbness.

"Hey!" Jimmy calls, running into the kitchen. "No! You aren't allowed to lift anything more than ten pounds, put that down!"

Scott sighs with an over-dramatic roll of his eyes, sets the box back on the counter. "It's not that heavy. And it doesn't even hurt right now."

"Just because it doesn't hurt doesn't mean it isn't injured, Mister," Jimmy tells him. "You don't want to pull out your stitches."

"You haven't let me help at all. Pearl already handled the actual heavy stuff, let me do something."

Jimmy shakes his head and picks up the box. "That's your own fault for getting stabbed right before we moved."

"We're moving because I got stabbed," Scott points out. "It's not like any of this was planned."

"You should have thought about that before you got stabbed, then."

Scott groans, then reluctantly laughs. "I guess I should have. Can I at least drive?"

Jimmy lets out a very put-upon sigh. "I suppose, since I don't have a driver's license, you can be allowed to drive. But only if you behave yourself."

Scott giggles again. "You're adorable," he says fondly. "You know I'm the Primary Protector of the city, right? I don't think you'd be able to stop me."

"And I killed a man last week," counters Jimmy. "I don't think you want to be on my bad side."

"Oh," Scott says after a moment. "Are we joking about this now?"

Jimmy shrugs. "We're in the laugh-or-cry stage. I'm trying to laugh about it right now."

Scott looks at him. Really, truly, looks at him.

Then he laughs. Just a little bit, but still a laugh.

"I love you," he says. "I'll help you hide the body next time."

Jimmy laughs a little, too, but Scott pauses.

"There . . . isn't going to be a next time, right?" he asks uncertainly.

"Oh, absolutely not. Not unless it's entirely necessary."

Scott nods several times. "Good," he says. “Yep. Cool.”

Jimmy turns back toward the door, box in his arms, and waits until he’s out of the house to huff, shaking his head (though a smile plays on his lips).

They’re okay.

He pushes away the numb feeling that threatens to seep into his brain and thinks and remembers and knows that they’re okay.

That’s good enough for him.

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #flower husbands #mas writes #empires superpowers au #esh au #this one is a fun one ngl #like it sounds angsty on the tin but it really isn't that bad #anyways shout out to jimmy for working a from-home customer service job during this fic #he has worse problems than whatever this is. and those problems are ppl yelling at him on the phone :(#ummmmmmmm enjoy #lmk what yall think #love you guys

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flightfoot · 1 year

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Miraculous Enemies AU fanfic recs

So I was just thinking about one of my favorite Miraculous tropes, enemies au. Whether it's Marinette getting the wrong idea about Adrien from the beginning of school, or Chat being cajoled into working for his father, I adore most fics with these tropes, and I'm betting that a lot of other people do as well, so here's a list of some good ones for people to peruse!

Note: I am only listing fics that are currently completed, so you don't have to fear any of these being abandoned. They are in no particular order (or rather, they're in the order in which I was able to track them down in for this list).

cruel youth by @anyxnka

Two teenagers are chosen to wield miraculouses. Only one becomes a superhero. Weeks later, Ladybug’s lucky charm won’t stop spitting out cats.

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i have found someone (like a nomad finds a home) by @hanaasbananas

After Stoneheart, Gabriel figured out who Chat Noir was, and forced him to work for him, rather than with Ladybug. Years later, Adrien is miserable until one night, he meets Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

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Unstuck by @ominousunflower

Chat Noir, notorious supervillain of Paris, experiences a wardrobe malfunction in the best and worst possible place: Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s balcony. Heart pounding, Chat pins Marinette’s wrists to the balcony. She stares up at him, her blue eyes kaleidoscopic from the lights hanging overhead, her features twisted into a scowl. “Why are you trying to take my Miraculous?” Chat hisses. “Because—you—I—” Marinette splutters, her eyes dipping down below Chat’s face. “Why is your suit unzipped?” “I—well…” Chat sighs. “My zipper got stuck.”

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one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every Miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace. Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most. Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

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with this ring by @thelibraryloser

She thought “you and me against the world” had sounded like lopsided odds before, when she hadn’t even dreamed “you against me” was a possibility. Or maybe she had dreamed it, but at least in those dreams he’d had cold blue eyes and a stark white mask. The villain she’d fought today had looked at her through her partner’s own bright green eyes. It wasn’t meant to be this way.

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Nothing Else Matters by LiquefiedStars

Marinette couldn’t figure out Chat Noir. He was supposed to be her partner, but instead ended up working for Hawk Moth. Still, her heart betrayed her and when a strong connection forms between them, Ladybug goes to Chat looking for answers, finding out more than she bargained for.

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home is where the fight is by @rosie-b

Nadja Chamack’s voice greeted Adrien as he sat up straight, wiping his clammy hands on his pants and ignoring the black kwami floating by his shoulder. “—shocked to see our heroine fall in battle today, taking a direct hit from the akuma just as she detransformed. Parisians are torn between blaming Hawk Moth and Cat Walker for their roles in this tragedy, which ultimately revealed the civilian identity of Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Adrien turned off the TV and lowered his head as his vision blurred. Written for Ladrien June Day 7: Injured

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The Great War by icebelle24

'And maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from a crypt Telling me to punish you for things you never did So I justified it' The unthinkable happens, and suddenly, Chat Noir’s allegiances change. Now Ladybug stands on the opposite side of the battlefield from the boy who was once her partner, left alone to make sense of an impossible situation. At least she still has Adrien to give her hope. Or maybe this war is not entirely what it seems.

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Miss Dial by @mysticraven20

Adrien Agreste has always considered Marinette Dupain-Cheng entertaining. Whether it was the endless back and forth of their banter, the clumsiness he found so cute or the fact her anger levels could go from 1-100 in a mere millisecond; he always found there was something about her... if only he could get to know her better. Marinette Dupain-Cheng has always considered Adrien Agreste a pompous, arrogant asshole. From his constant teasing of her, to the obnoxious laugh at her discomfort and the way he could anger her quicker than any other human being; she knew she hated Adrien Agreste with all she was worth. But what happens when Adrien accidentally sends the wrong text to the wrong person and a new friendship blossoms - a friendship deeper than either have ever known? Will Marinette choose to stay faithful to the budding relationship with the boy on the other side of the phone? Or will a new job with an old foe fill the loneliness in her heart?

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call it even by @anna-scribbles and @sha-nwa

After a year of dating, there is one thing Marinette knows for certain: it's her and Adrien against the world. Through it all, Adrien is kind, patient, and endlessly understanding—even as she tries her best to keep her secret superhero identity hidden from him along with the rest of the world. Nothing could ruin it, not even the supervillains of Paris: Hawkmoth and Chat Noir. (adrinette dating // ladynoir enemies au)

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oh, look, there you go with hope again by @ladyofthenoodle

After the defeat of Hawkmoth and his accomplice, Chat Noir, Marinette is ready to return to her normal life, but she can't escape Adrien Agreste, who was sentenced to a fate many consider worse than prison: public school. Specifically, her public school. Still, that doesn't mean she has to interact with him, does it? Except, if she doesn't... who will?

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Redemption by JamieHasCatEyes

Papillon has been defeated and imprisoned, but his accomplice, Chat Noir, was given a second chance. Marinette's time as Ladybug may be over, but she still has work to do if she wants to help Adrien reintegrate back into society.

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The Son Of My Enemy by Saccha

Cat Noir never wanted to be a villain, but he doesn't have a choice. Ladybug wishes she could save him. A reverse love square, villain!Cat Noir AU.

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metamorphosis by @peachcitt

“I was thinking about that time you hated me.” “Why?” "I don’t know." “I didn’t.” “I know.” or three years after hawkmoth's defeat, marinette is still trying to figure out her version of normal. there's also sleepovers.

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Stealing Freedom by @rosie-b

Adrien Agreste was a good person. Marinette knew this to be true, of course; she wouldn’t be marrying him if he were some irredeemable villain. No, her fiancé was practically the opposite of evil. He cooed over babies and kittens, literally stopped to smell the roses, and always brought large bouquets of them to dates. He had trouble killing spiders and bugs, begging his partner to take on the task whenever she was around to save him. Adrien was the sweetest person Marinette knew, the most kindhearted, the most forgiving; he was almost too perfect for her sometimes. But now, Marinette knew that the same Adrien who still blushed when his fiancée kissed him was also the well-known terror of Paris, Cat Walker.

#ml fanfic rec #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #ladynoir #marichat #ladrien #enemies au #ml enemies au #lovesquare #ml lovesquare

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a-narcissists-warren · 4 months

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do you guys remember the sketch animation thingy i made with suitcase and balloon saying someone should make a grimdark of it?

SO UM. i'm not exactly promising anything BUT that idea has been cooking in my brain <:3

and i've been doodling stuff about it :3 (more yapping and drawings bellow)

In paper, Balloon and Suitcase forming a friendship and going around killing sounds fun in it's own BUT how they reach to that point needs work. They aren't exactly evil (canonically wise) they wouldn't kill someone let alone in gruesome ways like in a grimdark.

What i have in mind specifically needs some tweaking but first and foremost, if i want to actually attempt to make a story i don't want their actions to be justified by mental illness, like most are- It feels wrong to me, and I get that it's the easy option i don't wanna be yet another one to villain-ize any disorder.

Neither do i want the "mephone is missing" trope, i want them to have that obstacle and find their own solutions to it. That's the interesting part after all: HOW they do it

Would they use weapons? Would they have a favorite method? Would they enjoy it? Would they feel regret? Would they be reckless or more precise? What skills do they have that could help them in achieving their goals? HOW do they come to an agreement?

I'm gonna need to answer a lot of those questions, but here's a funny one i wanted to mention: How would Suitcase kill?

I don't thinking standing one one leg using another to wave a weapon around would be exactly convenient. Neither waving one in her mouth, she could hurt herself :(

BUT THEN IT HIT ME. Armless objects sometimes carry stuff in their mouth, possibly heavy stuff. This indicates a strong jaw

So. uh she bitey :3

HEHEHEE let me know what you guys think! I left it mostly vague, i didn't talk about their promise, just in case i wanna make it a thing :3 but also what should i name this au? just for convenience if i ever talk about it again

okay i'm gonna shut up thanks for reading :3

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tackletofset · 1 year

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If I had to choose one word to describe "Dark Heir," it would be 'OTHERWORLDLY.'

[There will be NO SPOILERS in this Review, only vague hints]

“Critiquing the idea of a classic hero and a reclaiming of the queer villain”

These words are written under the blurb of the very ARC. Sadly, most people are still missing the point.

Dark Rise is my true love in the form of a book series.

As a queer person who grew up sympathizing with villains (who are often queer-coded), this book series undoubtedly serves as a great form of escapism. I feel seen and understood. I found a home here.

Reading Dark Heir was a surreal experience, almost like a sudden storm hitting me all at once. It was like being pulled into a whirlwind. It is everything I could ever wish for!!!

I devoured this book in just TWO DAYS, which is unexpected given my typically SLOW reading pace. It's worth noting that Dark Heir is considerably longer than Dark Rise (with Dark Rise comprising 34 chapters and Dark Heir containing 51). It is also fueled by my eagerness to continue the story after a two-year wait, particularly following that cliffhanger!

Will has always been my favourite character since "Dark Rise," and this sequel only amplifies it. I perceive his struggles with the truth of his identity, as a metaphor for internalized queerphobia. Many queer youth, including myself, have been told that our queerness is evil and abhorrent, leading us to hide and deny our true selves in the pursuit of acceptance from others. Will's yearning for his friends' acceptance, especially from Violet, his best friend.

Many of us would be delighted to see that James has POV chapters in this book! It's great to see his perspective on not only his feelings about Will or Sarcean but also about his family history.

I'm equally excited about introducing the new character, Visander, and I'm thrilled that he can be interpreted as trans. Knowing that CS Pacat identifies as genderqueer/non-binary, I would like to see him writing more trans-coded characters. Visander is a character who fascinates me, as there are times when he can be both lovable and yet totally frustrates me.

Praise Pacat (again), who has been so generous to give us the “Surprise POVs” which made me scream and jump up and down at 2 a.m.

I seriously love the parts where we got to explore more of the Old World. The twists within them are both surprising and, in a way, expected. I've always held the belief that history was written by the victors, and as a result, the truth about the Dark King and the Betrayer was also lost in time. It was also very gratifying to see that the characters that were once hailed as the paragons of virtue were not so saint-like after all.

I hate classic heroes. I despise them and I won't even try to hide it.

Doubtlessly, the Old World chapters are my favourites. And I yearn to have even more of them in Book 3 because I want to know more details about how Sarcean came to power- and his downfall, and the full truth about his relationship with Anharion! I wouldn't mind the book stretching to 60+ chapters to accommodate it.

Pacat has indeed delivered on his promises to infuse this sequel with even more "on-page gay" content, so readers need not fret about the shortage of romance. They are plentiful, to say the least.

Now, returning to my initial point:

!!!Dark Rise is not a story about escaping an abusive male partner!!!

While numerous stories tackle this theme, and it is worth telling, this is not one of them.

This is a story about queer people reclaiming their identities. It speaks to those who have been vilified, demonized, alienated, and even disowned from a young age by the very individuals who should have shielded them—their parents and guardians.

They are continuously taught that their queerness is immoral, abhorrent, and despicable, leading them to believe they must conceal and deny their true selves, often feeling as though they are harbingers of evil and thus destined for condemnation. It sheds light on how queer youths grapple with internalized queerphobia due to an environment that refuses to accept them for who they are.

The accusations hurled at the "villainous figures" within this story mirror the stigma that the bigoted society frequently directs at queer individuals: that we’re lewd, vulgar degenerates, disease-spreaders and a danger to children.

Dark Rise and Dark Heir underscores our society’s twisted morality that the only available paths for queer individuals are either to deny their queerness or face the gravest consequences. In other words: be converted or unalived.

For those of us who have been demonized and alienated by the people who were supposed to protect us—we are not evil. We do not deserve the abuse directed at us, and it is not our fault. There is nothing wrong with us. We deserve happiness, love, safety, and acceptance.

We should all be unapologetic and unafraid of our true selves, like James.

And oH MY GOD. THAT ENDING!!! You think the prologue was crazy??? You wouldn’t LIVE to see that ending.

I have fantasized about *that* final line before, but I thought it was cheesy and that it might be something more like Prince Gambit's "The King! Damianos! He lives!" but it was not like that at all 🤣🤣🤣

It's my dream cheesy line 💜💜💜

#dark rise #dark heir #cs pacat #will kempen #james st clair #sarcean #anharion #violet ballard #cyprian #visander #captive prince #laurent of vere #damianos of akielos #dr theory #mine

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livehorses · 1 year

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The Spot and Disability

It's very interesting to me how ATSV told Spot's story. At a start he's handled as a joke in the movie. Even Miles and the audience with him laughed at the new villain in his introduction. I was personally disgusted when the bread goes across him. Also, the guy isn't good at being bad and stealing an ATM, so he can be considered as a joke.

But it's hard to admit that we as an audience, and Miles did wrong laughing at his face about his new condition. We often mock him when it comes to the bagel joke, but he clearly suffered a lot, and lost it all after the accident. He was being mocked, rejected by everyone, even by his own friends and relatives. He evidently couldn't do anything without any of his holes getting in the way (which is the thing that makes him disabled), he lost his job and was forced to do illegal stuff in order to survive. That left an irreparable emotional damage that shaped him permanently. These are actual motivations for a person to take the wrong path, and even more when you discover you have a power that could give you some advantage over the others.

All of his story is clearly similar to what many disabled people live on a daily basis. "Unfortunately for me and you, this is skin." Sounds familiar? Reminds me of people that have vitiligo, which isn't exactly an illness and it isn't contagious, but common people think it is, and they fear, avoid and reject anyone who has it. Even in these modern days, where society supposedly is for everyone and everyone matters, disabled people are still rejected and disrespected, victims of bullying, mockery and exclusion. They don't get a chance to adapt to this world, not meant for them, and they miss so many opportunities of having a job, to form a family and go places adapted to their unique conditions. This world still needs to educate its people on respecting the disabled. That doesn't mean that disabled people are doomed to become villains, no! That would expand more the prejudices towards them. But what most of Marvel villains, and more, Spider-Man villains, have in common is having an accident that left them disabled: Flint falling on a sand dispenser, Max on a pool of eels, affecting their entire lives. (Not to mention that Doctor Connors was already disabled when he recurred to a not so ethic way to recover his arm, turning him into a lizard-like humanoid)

And yeah, every Spider-Man has a similar (canon) event, they're bitten by a radioactive spider. But rather to turn them onto something horrible, they hit the jackpot instead isn't it? They get attractively buffed, they get cool super powers, they become popular and loved by most people. But the others are treated as villains, and it's true, Spider-Man has to combat crime, and in the end, he shows mercy towards them. But in the end, most of the time their condition is treated as menacing and villanious. That's why No Way Home, brings a fresh vision on helping the villains to get cured or at least treated. (Although, that's not always realistically possible for disabled people, and most of them don't need to be cured or treated like their condition is bad for them)

But the movie leaves it clear it was a mistake to not take Spot's situation seriously. The man might've taken it chill at a start, but the more he was mistreated, the more he got resentful especially with Miles, wrongly considering him the source of all his disgraces, and more when the Super-Hero laughed at him. His power grew at the same time as his anger, and by the end of the movie, Miles admits it, he's his nemesis, they're mutual enemies now, and he's dangerous. If Spot was treated better from the start, with dignity and if he was given a second opportunity, support and optimum laboral conditions, maybe Spot would be now an ally.

How wrong we were, by taking him for granted...

#SpiderVerse #CW: Flasing #Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse #The Spot #SpiderVerse The Spot #Miles Morales #No Way Home #Disability #Jonathan Ohnn

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sepublic · 1 month

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With this analysis of Luz having Belos, and King having the Collector, it does feel as if Eda herself is technically missing her own personal antagonist; Though tbf, she does parallel/foil Belos in a lot of ways too. So it could simply be interchangeable, esp when we have Luz and the Collector; But a part of me wonders if there would've been a third villain, for Eda?

Like, maybe the Archivists; They're out there, and their relationship with the Collector can be comparable to Eda and King's. It's just that Eda lied to King and was at times a neglectful parent, but nevertheless came around... And since I believe it was an Archivist and not the Collector who turned the Owl Beast into a scroll, there's a very personal connection for Eda there, given how much the curse really shaped her life and made her self-doubt in a way even the coven system didn't (Though you could argue she only got cursed because of Belos' cutthroat system pitting Lilith against her).

Maybe the Archivists would've recognized their magic on Eda, would've recognized the Owl Beast especially and we'd get more lore on it; Not that the Archivists needed it to be special to 'preserve' it, per their stated MO. Given the Owl Beast's reaction to the Collector, imagine how it would've responded to the actual Archivist who transformed it? And we could've gotten more collaboration between Eda and the Owl Beast, more understanding as the latter became more active as a character...

Who knows, maybe the six-legged form we see in the finale is a super-harpy form that the two could've achieved against the Archivists; Or the 'Owl Deity' mural within the Owl House's living room.

I also wonder if Eda's antagonist is Lilith; After all, we've seen in the storyboards that she was originally going to be much more antagonistic and mean-spirited. I wonder why the writers changed this. I suspect it's to make the twist of Lilith cursing Eda actually impactful, since a Lilith who clearly cares and is struggling to have it both ways feels like a genuine betrayal to Eda and the audience, as does her dangling Luz over a cliff (Which in the storyboards, happens but isn't as huge of a deal).

So Lilith is an occasional antagonist and rival, but never a malicious threat and even someone who teams up; Which makes the revelation and her crossing a line hit extra-hard. So she's basically a twist villain, revealed as the 'mastermind' behind the curse that Eda struggles with in S1, with S1 having the most emphasis on the curse as a conflict for the protagonists to navigate; And Lilith sharing that curse is the resolution, as it's no longer an active problem threatening Eda's existence. There's still more (like the aforementioned Owl Beast) to address in S2, but the curse itself is not worsening anymore.

With all that in mind, I guess this makes Lilith technically the villain of S1? Since Belos only really takes initiative in the last two episodes. She's more recurring, and her being less antagonistic kind of works with S1 being much more light-hearted. I've already suggested before that each season corresponds to one of our main trio; S1 for Eda, S2 for King, and S3 for Luz. Belos definitely plays a bigger role in S2 while the Collector is more S3, so it's not exactly one-to-one...

Still, we can see the progression as the villains get more powerful; But in the end, Lilith and the Collector were both manipulated by Belos, and are won over in the end. Lilith gets the most screen time as an ally due to when she turns around, and thus her time as a protagonist overshadows her time as an antagonist.

I also have to wonder if Eda isn't meant to have her own villain? Eda is unlike Luz and King in that she's already a full-grown adult who's seen and learned plenty; She's got more to learn as we see. But she's more certain of her place in life, whereas Luz and King are going through their coming-of-age, and thus they have their personal antagonists to represent that big character conflict.

For Eda, it's more confronting herself; Or maybe the Owl Beast is that antagonist, since she does blame it for ruining her life and all that. Maybe it's Raine and Gwen and Dell and Lilith; Less in an "Antagonist" sense, and more as people Eda needs to make resolution with, that she's in conflict with.

And as an adult, that conflict is less overt and more quiet, internally painful, and really about just talking things out. By contrast, Luz still had her Gildersnake moment coming up, set up in THE very first scene of the show, and King had his arc renouncing his destroyer status to be more mature with the concept of power.

Maybe it's because Eda's not one who operates on fantasy like Luz and King do, either; In the second episode, Eda delivers the lesson about 'being special' which tell us a bunch. It suggests she's already been there and done that, she's the mentor. Her antagonist is less of an overt face per adulthood, but maybe it represents how she's done most of her growth.

So Eda's arc isn't about her relationship with fantasy; King's is abandoning his in favor of a quieter, sustainable reality; Luz has a nuanced dynamic with her fiction (due to it being less inherently destructive than King's), where she healthily distinguishes when and when not to embrace it.

It could be that since Dana originally held hopes for a prequel series involving teen Eda, that we would've gotten a more overt antagonist for her that way; Maybe Principal Faust! With his rantings on kids as evil, being an insincere teacher while Eda becomes a genuine one and even a dean! And that conflict’s resolution leads to Bump taking his place. And/or it's Terra Snapdragon. Hell what if it was the previous Golden Guard, and Darius not yet realizing what his mentor did wrong (even if his mentor realized but never vocalized it to a kid who could get in trouble) contributed to him no longer being friends with Eda; Because she defeated the Golden Guard.

(This reminds me of my speculation on Eda and the Golden Guard, before we learned Hunter's name, being parallels and having connections. They're not exactly parallels... Well maybe in some ways they are with their lacking magic... But they definitely have that lost-to-time familial connection.)

I did notice that in S3, Eda didn't have as much focus compared to Luz and King; Again, for the reasons I listed above about her having done most of her arc already, and what she had left had already been resolved. So it makes sense to focus on Luz and King, who are still struggling. But also again; If we got that prequel series, we would've gotten a bunch of solo Eda development and screen time, but without any Luz and King alas.

So when evaluating all these factors, maybe Dana and the writers chose to focus on Luz and King, and let Eda take the backseat for this reason; They'd still have a whole show for Eda, or at least a mini-series, afterwards. But this was the last we'd see of Luz and King, so I think that priority worked. Even if we evidently aren't getting that prequel series, if Dana's acceptance of this is any indication... Plus, again: S3 being short means they can only fit in so much, meaning Eda could only get so much too; Esp with the set-up of Luz needing to make her way back to Eda and King, which means they only have 2/3 of S3 where they can appear.

#The Owl House #Eda Clawthorne #Edalyn Clawthorne #Meta #Speculation

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reireichu · 3 months

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Louis will be the one to turn Daniel into a vampire.

We're nearly at the end of the line***, and I have this theory that Armand is not going to turn Daniel into a vampire at the end of the season. Instead, Louis will, and it's because of the above scene.

The entire Season 2 has established very nicely that Armand is a lying liar who lies, but it also has established something else very important:

Louis (is also a lying liar who lies!!!!!) has not forgiven Armand, he has never forgiven Armand, and he never will.

Look at that face.

IWTV hit the lottery with all the actors, and that's including the background actors, the extras, bit parts, the entire Theatres des Vampires and most importantly, with their main characters. Jacob and Assad (and Sam, but we aren't talking about him here) have used the entire fucking season as a masterclass in micro-expressions and honestly, it's so telling that you can rewatch an episode once, twice, ten times, and you will probably catch some tail-end of a thought in Armand's head, or Louis' mind, something you missed, maybe that slight curl of the lip, twitch of the brow, or maybe it was a trick of the light.

We are seeing these particular expressions in real time, instead of via a narrative. These expressions are who they are, how they feel, what they think in that particular moment. None of these acting choices are accidental.

(I could go on a tangent about the big game of Who Lives Who Dies Who Is Telling The Fucking Story Right Now*** and how manipulative Armand and Louis are in their versions of things, how Louis has painted this portray of Lestat that we see and read through his eyes, how they are reading each other, but that's not for today, today is about old maniel okay thanks bye.)

Armand and Louis have a contentious relationship, it’s basically the prolonged divorce of two assholes trapped in a toxic relationship. They’re both the victim and they’re both the villain. They both accept and avoid accountability for all faults. They're as bad as each other.

Is there love there? Yes. That’s what a toxic relationship uses to cage you in—the entire “I can fix him” joke and “but daddy, I love him” trope came from this—and toxic relationships can endure for a very long time, and it can eat you from the inside out, twisting you into some sort of malevolent creature of held together with tape, glue, spite and cruelty wearing the mask of an angel.

Louis and Armand have turned maiming each other with love into a higher art form. They've used it as their courting game, their mating ritual, and now it's their fucking battleground. They love each other, they break each other, and they stay together, and they love each other. Love and hate, different sides of same fucking coin. It put the particular scene when Louis offers Daniel The Gift into a different light for me.

Armand’s expression, as fake!Rashid,could have been read as so many different things (all the awards and commendations to Assad Zaman, please and thank you), and that’s probably the beauty of this entire show. Watch it again now, after the knowledge that Armand sat there as Claudia was burned to death because he ‘could not prevent it’ (LIAR!!!), after knowing that Louis has been with Armand for seventy-seven years of love and hate and ‘tri-annual fuck off and find me’s and everything else in between.

Louis has spent seventy seven years with Armand. He had seventy seven years to see what vulnerabilities there are to exploit, which buttons to push, what words will trigger.*** He’s also a patient man. He’s the guy that will buy a splotchy painting to see it go up in value. He invested in real estate before it was trendy y’all, he’s not here for your fucking NFTs or get rich quick schemes. Louis is a schemer, manipulator and a long term investor.

He’s been waiting for awhile, but he’s also spent decades chipping away that armour Armand wears. The little jibes here and there, dismissive, snarky, cunty or full on there it is, that half blank half apocalyptic stare because this man is either all or nothing. I love you, I hate you, I’m not your fucking companion, you’re so boring, leave him alive Arun, you’re a beige pillow, have you met the love of my life.

Armand is fully aware of what Louis is capable of. Armand might have played Judas in his coven’s little play, he might have been cast out, he might have been persona non grata, but Theatre des Vampires was still his coven and (spoiler alert book wise but I mean we are all know this happens) Louis burnt it all down to the ground. Armand might have hated them by then, Armand might have loathed them, Armand might have tired of them, but if anyone was to light the match on his wretched coven, it should have been Armand.

And now, Louis has invited Daniel into his coffin, the graveyard where Louis has spent the last weeks enshrining Lestat like he’s the beautiful boy nailed to the cross, Lestat whom he hates, Lestat whom he loves, Lestat Lestat Lestat Lestat Lestat.***

Why does it have to be Daniel?

It could have been anyone. History isn’t all that important, or maybe it is.

Don’t tell me Louis hasn’t consumated and consumed so many other writers, because we know he has. Because what is it, Daniel, did you think you were special? How many hundred something boys has Louis fucked around and found out with, after lying and telling you it’s just five. How many after that. How many in those seventy-seven years of Loui’s fuck off and find me sprees, surely there’s been hundreds of writers.

So why Daniel.

Because Armand now has only one thing in this world that is truly his, or was truly his, depends how you see it. Armand loves someone, and that someone is mortal, breakable, dying. Because the Dark Gift has been the thing that broken Armand and Lestat and freed Louis. Because Louis and Armand are lying liars who lie, because love of my life is not the same as coal fire in winter. Because Armand is a broken, manipulative asshole who was the victim, who is the villain, who Louis loves and hates. Armand took Claudia, Armand ruined his life, Armand lied, Armand was Arun was Amedeo was a fucking whore and I’ve always been real good at running the fucking show, Armand Armand Armand Armand Armand—

A very wise old man (and evil dictator, murderer of children, rose garden enthusiast)*** once said:

It's the things we love the most that destroy us.

And Louis has spent a very long time waiting for the right moment to destroy Armand.

And he’s going to use Daniel to do it.

HAPPY FINALE WEEK Y’ALL.

aLSOOoooo:

Just me reaching with weird foreshadowing or references, idek.

Not Lestat's blood. [...] Not good enough for her.

***I’ve had this post in my drafts for about three weeks, and only am posting it now because I basically have been trying to make it more concise or less nonsensical, only to realise that finale week is here so instead it’s now just waffling, with footnotes, bad references, stolen gifs, and inconsistent theorising? Pls forgive me for typos bc I just word vomitted this out to beat the Aus Timezone episode drop.

***Donald Sutherland you were the OG the big bad RIP :(((( you will live on in MASH, Hunger Games and fandom head canons of your twinky younger self from the prequel movie

***I'm actually such Hamiltrash that I couldn't make this post without one Hamilton reference.

***hello arun maitre dom/sub dynamic that reads like a fanfic, the contrast of a former pimp and the former prostitute, using your body to get what you want vs using breadcrumbs affection to manipulate a person, all the narcissism bpd ptsd broken meow meows someone else make this post pls.

***the fact that i cannot let go of this scene, and have used it in both this post and parasite, idek anymore.

#interview with the vampire amc #louis de pointe du lac #daniel molloy #armand #old man daniel #WHEN ARE THEY GOING TO RAIL THE OLD MAN #iwtv #honestly if this theory comes true then idek amc should hire me #i feel like i should tag lestat and claudia but this post is mainly about the penthouse #also sorry to stolen gifs i cannot remember sources fml #the longest divorce ever #louis and armand being all marriage story

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