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gilbirda · 1 year

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DPxDC cheat sheet

So. I'm not a nitpicking person. I understand that mistakes can be made and typos are a thing and sometimes we are just not the kind of person that can make words work for a variety of reasons (dyslexia, for example).

This is not for that people.

This is for everyone who stumbled into this fandom by mistake and had learned things via osmosis and don't have the energy/time to check the source material for the "correct" thing.

Y'all are valid.

This is a cheat sheet of correct terms and fandom things that are not correct that I've seen in fics.

Disclaimer: while experimenting with canon is fun, this is just to lay down the rules of what's what so it can be the springboard of y'all's beautiful creations.

Given that some people just can't behave online: "If you don't have anything constructive to say, don't say anything." Did I say something wrong? You have resources better than this? You want to make a nitpick? Cool! More info to the mix — But come at me in a hurtful and insulting way and I'm blocking you on the spot.

[Will add more when I think more/have suggestions]

DP SIDE - Post "A Glitch in Time" Canon

Sam is Jewish

Sam is ultra-recyclo-vegetarian aka "doesn't eat anything with a face". Is not a real thing.

It's "Amity Park" not "Amity Ville".

Wes is fanon, same as Kyle. Info on Wes here

It's "Casper High", not "Caspar High".

Mr. Lancer doesn't have a canon name. Common fanon ones are William or Edward.

Ghost obsessions are canon. In AGIT, it's explained that ghosts have a purpose or drive. Danny's purpose is "protection" of both humans and ghosts.

Ghost cores are fanon-ish (there is a mention that Danny's ice powers come from his "core" temperature and is never addressed again, of course) (Episode is "Urban Jungle"). Then in the videogame there are different "types" of ghost powers and something about their cores? Very confusing.

Ghost speak is fanon. However, in AGIT, it's revealed that there's an ghost alphabet, and it's ancient form is based on sanskrit and tamil alphabets. Codex of Ghost alphabet.

Ghost Hunger is canon! In AGIT it's revealed that ghosts feed on emotions and thoughts to stay sapient. If they don't, they become feral with time. Halfas feed from their human side, remaining stable.

Danny is the bridge between the spirit world and living world - canon!

Danny beats the Ghost King Pariah Dark in combat, but faints and that fight is never addressed in the series again. Ghost King!Danny is fanon-ish so go ham with interpreting that. (Episode is "Reign Storm")

Tucker is the reincarnation?? (never stated in canon, but he does look alike) of a pharaoh named "Duul Aman" (Duulaman is also accepted as spelling). Said pharaoh never appears in the series as a ghost, just a picture. Who does appear is his (evil) right hand man, Hotep-Ra, who tries to manipulate Tucker (Episode is "King Tuck"). That Tucker gets cool magic from this event is fanon. But cool.

Sam gets possessed by Undergrowth via a vine straight into her spine (gross). Undergrowth calls her "his daughter" and she tries to lure Danny into "joining her to take over the world". (Episode is "Urban Jungle"). That Sam gets cool plant powers from this event is fanon. But cool.

The Fenton parents are never physically abusive - just comedically neglectful in the way parents are depicted in early 2000s cartoons. Incompetent, misguided, dumb... but they are shown to love their kids. The even accept Danny the 2 canon times they find out about him (Episodes "Reality Trip" and "Phantom Planet").

Jazz is never shown as "mature" in the sense that she had to parent Danny and be the responsible adult. She is comedically the "annoying and meddling older sister" from early 2000s cartoons. She wants to be considered an adult. She couldn't see Youngblood, who is a child ghost that cannot be seen by adults, and Danny had to push her into acting childish to make her see him.

Axiom labs is bought by Vlad's company "Vlad.co" not "DALV.co". DALV.co was the fake company that paid for Maddie and Danny to fly to a conference but stranded them in a forest where Vlad's cabin coincidentally was. (Episode "Maternal Instincts")

Dan is not older Danny. He is not even called "Dan" in canon, just "Dark Danny". He is Danny's ghost half, who killed his human half, ate/merged with Vlad's ghost side and then tried to kill Vlad's human side. Was losing his humanity what made him evil? Was it merging with the Bad Guy(tm) of the series? 🤷‍♀️ Take it as you will. (Episode is "The Ultimate Enemy")

Freakshow is NOT a clown. He is the ringmaster of a goth circus (called Circus Gothica). Danny's headcanoned fear of clowns can be traced back to the "circus" and clown-related imagery surrounding Freakshow's performances, but not directly BY Freakshow. (Episodes "Control Freaks" and "Reality Trip")

DC SIDE

Damian (not Damien or Demian) is never confirmed his religion. Fanon has accepted he is Muslim.

Bruce is from a Jewish family (Martha Wayne was Jewish), but he considers himself an atheist. Same with Kate Kane (Batwoman).

It's "Selina" Kyle, not "Selena" or "Salina".

It's "Talia" Al Ghul, not "Thalia".

It's "Jason", not "Jayson".

Damian is vegetarian, not vegan. It means he doesn't eat meat, but eats animal produces like eggs, milk, etc. He went vegetarian after rescuing Batcow from a slaughterhouse, he didn't arrive at the manor already being vegetarian.

Duke is NOT adopted. Bruce is fostering him temporarily and is more of a mentor to him than a father. Duke considers the others his siblings, though. EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT DUKE: Part 1 | Part 2

Dick was not adopted as a kid, Dick was Bruce's ward. That term is not used anymore, though. Adoption happened later in Dick's adulthood.

It's Gotham, not "Gothem".

Cassandra IS adopted. Legally.

Cassandra's nickname is "Cass", not "Cassie". Cassie is the nickname of another character also named Cassandra (Cassandra Sandsmark, Wondergirl)

"Little Wing" is a canon nickname for Jason from Dick.

"Baby bird" or "Baby bat" are fanon-ish(?). Little Wing, Dickie, Dickie-bird... Canon! Jaylad is not canon, but Jaybird is canon! A GREAT post with receipts about all nicknames. ("Replacement" isn't canon btw).

Stephanie Brown was the 4th Robin. She is not adopted, and was part of the batfamily because she was dating Tim. She is still considered batfamily even if they are not dating anymore.

In Hush, when Jason comes back to Gotham, Jason puts a knife on Tim's throat, but barely leaves a cut. Tim's throat wasn't injured during the Titans Tower attack.

Cass is selectively mute because she wasn't taught any language beyond what she needed to predict people's movements. She doesn't know sign language. She doesn't know how to read and write (more recent comics show her reading a bit). But she could learn, with difficulty. Very in depth analysis of Cass' disability.

Jason's "Pit Madness" is fanon. Canon offers Ra's saying "the Pit alters the mind - could happen for a few days or for years, you never know" or something like that, and that's it. There is reason to believe that the Lazarus Pit can cloud judgement for a while but there is no voice in the back of the head or the Pit taking over.

Tim never expressed special interest in photography or in it as a hobby. Nor he is a coffee addict more than the other bats, who pull all nighters on the reg. He is actually addicted to energy drinks.

There are 2 main Conner/Kon-El/Superboy I portrayed in fics: Young Justice cartoon one (grumpy, same age as Dick, kind of an asshole, has daddy issues, wears black shirt and jeans, has a space motorcycle and a pet wolf) and 90s comics one (leather jacket, piercings, punny guy, same age as Tim, has a #nohomo relationship with Tim, kind of a himbo).

There are a few Ghost superheroes - Greta Hayes (Secret), she was in Tim's run as Young Justice's leader; and Boston Brand (Deadman), who is a member of Justice League Dark (with Constantine and Zatanna and Swamp Thing!). So the DC heroes are familiar with ghosts and ghost powers.

It's "rogues" gallery, not "rouge". Rouge means "red" in french.

Clark is never abusive to Conner, he just doesn't know what to do with him and chooses to ignore the problem; which, yeah, is mean, but not to the levels that fanon has taken it. And this is in the Young Justice cartoons, not across all depictions. In comics, they consider each other family and that's why Conner took a kryptonian name (Kon-El - of house of El, Kal's family)

The whole "No metas in Gotham" is not true. Batman understands that Gotham is very Fucked Up and that if you add metahumans and heroes with powers trying to do good to the mix it could make things worse. Outsiders don't understand Gotham and if they get jokerized or mind controlled, it will get ugly real quick. That's why Signal is cool beans! Duke is a gothamite through and through.

While is interesting that no one in the Batfam knows about Tim's missing spleen, is very probable that Alfred knows - post about this

Constantine is more powerful than it looks like. A post about interesting abilities.

Damian has a metal spine. Yeah I don't know how it works either. They used it as way for Talia to control Damian for a bit :(

Interesting links:

What's fanon in DP

Fan project for Ghost Speak, written and spoken form, and a ghost speak generator - post AGIT canon

Transcripts of all the Danny Phantom episodes

The whole DP series + the complementary comics + A Glitch in Time comic (if you are able to buy the AGIT comic please do 🙇‍♀️)

How to pronounce Ra's Al Ghul

BatPham ship names (updated regularly).

What are the canon ages of the Batfam?

In depth guide to everything Batman in one place (be prepared to go down the rabbit hole)

Fanon vs Canon Batfam edition

Superfam family tree

Interactive map of Gotham (Gotham Knights videogame)

Timeline of events (Batfam adoption order and ages when those events happen)

Map of Gotham (made based on various sources, with annotations (check the reblogs for more info))

The Titans Tower attack: Fanon vs Canon

This person has dedicated a lot of time to research receipts of Comic stuff so check out their masterlist

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Suggestions are welcome! Please be kind with each other and remember to have fun with this fandom!

#dpxdc cheat sheet #cheat sheet #dp #danny phantom #dc #batman dc #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp crossovers

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arbiterlexultionis · 7 months

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Shoot for the moon, wind up amongst the Stars

So, obviously Danny loves space. Exploring it, experiencing all it has to offer, being among the first humans to step foot on other worlds, taking off in a rocket on a mission to take one small step for man has been his dream ever sense he was old enough to even know what it meant to dream. Danny is also a Fenton, and regardless of what his grades may say he’s smart, really Really smart. To an absurd degree, even for a Fenton, especially in matters of engineering. Blueprints were his picture books, college textbooks his bedtime stories and his parents old recordings of their Ivy League college engineering courses his Saturday morning cartoons. Even if he didn’t have the actual strength neccisary to do it he practically knew how to pull apart an engine before he had a good enough comprehension the the English language to give a half decent explanation of what an engine is. Each and every part known and understood on the deepest level possible, moving in his mind exactly as they should before he could even spell their names. A six year old Jazz damn near had a stroke when she found her two year old brother that she promised to protect from her parents weird Sci-Ance pulling apart the microwave and figuring out how to use the magnetron to send signals that he could detect on the family computer. By the time Danny was in “real” classes in elementary and moving onto middle school he was more than capable of helping his parents pull apart thrown away technology too piece together wonderful machines, and the only reason he didn’t was because he preferred to work on his own projects(It took Jazz nearly three hours to convince him that taking his homemade 7300 mW laser to school to make Dash stop shoving Tucker into lockers was a bad idea).

One night, Danny’s in phantom form flying through the sky’s of amity starring up into the endless inky black and blue of the night. Taking in the countless new details his enhanced physiology lets see, experience even without the aid of a telescope. Reminiscing about the dream he lost when he lost half his life. Mourning both those losses. Sure, he’s been to space but it’s not the same. He just sheds the pull of gravity and lets himself rise, it’s a magical experience in and of itself but it’s not the same as strapping himself into the spacecraft of his own design and embarking on a journey to the stars. It’s cheating. But it’s not like he’ll ever get the chance to experience the real deal, even if he could pass the physical there’s no way he could make it to NASA now that all his grades were in the toilet. And it’s not like he could achieve it in some other way, random civilians can’t just build spaceships in their basem…..

Danny stops mid air. He thinks. The specter speeder. Jack and Maddie built the specter speeder in their basement. Jack and Maddie built an honest to god spaceship in their basement. It could survive in the vacuum of space and under the weight of the ocean, operate in and out of atmosphere with or without gravity. It was a spaceship in every way that mattered, and they just Built It because they felt like it. And Danny was more than capable of producing technology of a similar level. He could do it, he could build a spaceship with his own two hands and let it carry him to the stars, to his dreams.

Danny’s rushing home before he even realizes he’s moving, a whirlwind around his room gathering up all his old designs, empty blueprints and reference materials. He spends more than an hour in a hyper focused state drawing up a slightly modernized, very Fentonized version of a Saturn V rocket. He’s barely a quarter of the way through the spitballing process of coming up with the design when he realizes he may or may not have over looked a very important part of the whole “screw it, I’ll do it myself” approach to getting to space, materials. There’s a limit to how many resources can go missing from his parents lab and how many charitable donations Vlad can generously(unknowingly) make to the cause before they all notice and start asking questions. So his designs are, unfortunately, put aside for the time being. He is disheartened for a moment, and in an attempt to cheer himself up he reaches for the nearest space themed entertainment he has, a Star Wars comic. The he stops, looks at the freighter on the cover of the comic. A lot of sci-fi ships are pretty small. Small enough to build without getting asked to many questions.

He spends the next several weeks tearing through as much sci-fi comics, movies and TV shows as he can, binge watching YouTube lore videos about Star Wars, Halo and who knows what else. After that, it’s time to get to work.

Weeks later, Lancer is standing on his porch on a nice, quite Saturday morning. It’s a habit he got into years ago, taking in the peace of his small little town in the early hours of the morning before it’s had a chance to wake up and start a ruckus, coming to appreciate and enjoy it even more now that ghost have been causing havoc and partaking in a little bit of bird watching while he’s at it. Slowly taking sips of his still far to hot cup of coffee, he stairs into the sunrise, taking in the countless colors and artfully blended shades. This is it. This is what he loves about his city. The quite beauty of it, so easy to miss and even easier to adore. What he loves about his job, the beauty of a new day, of the future, and all the possibilities it holds. Even if he does far to much work for far to little pay, it will all be worth it if even one of those students he has helped grow and learn go on to become doctors, police and engineers, saving lives and building the prosperous future they all deserve to live in. He breathes in, and then out. He is content.

A black spec appears on the horizon, undoubtably a flock of birds. Excellent. He begins to look through his binoculars, mentally trying to guess what species they’ll be when taking into account the time of year and day. He search’s through the sky for a moment, before going absolutely still. He lowers his binoculars and takes a long, long sip of his still scolding my hot coffee. It burns, he can feel pain, so he’s probably not dreaming. He looks back at the black spec in the distance, takes a long, hard look at it through his binoculars. It is still very much not a flock of birds. His is now 99% positive that it is exactly what it looks like. He breaths in, breathe out. He is no longer content.

Ten seconds later the easily identifiable UFO flys directly over his house, the iconic and extraordinarily loud screech of an imperial TIE fighter following it. His car’s alarm blares, as do the alarms of nearly every other car on the street, which is almost loud enough to mask the sound of alarms going off on the neighboring streets. He turns around, and walks back inside. Stops at the whiteboard he has hung on the wall by the door.

‘Note to self- give Mr. Fenton detention on Monday. P.S. bring a pack of disposable face masks and warn him of the dangers of flying a high tech spaceship where federal agents can look through the cockpit window and see him piloting it.’

At the very least he needs to tint the windows. Maybe make the window a one way mirror, and add some chrome detailing while painting the rest of the craft vanta black? That would surely look. (he glances at the guide to being hip for the unhip he has laying on his counter still open from last nights reading) Sick? Yes, it would surly look sick. He should also probably try and talk him into adding some cameras and such to the thing, that dome window has to have terrible visibility. At least a backup camera so he can parallel park and keep and eye out for any fighters trying to line up shots behind him.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #fic prompt #dp au #story prompt #writing prompt #danny phantom au #dp #Danny’s one smart cookie #engineere!Danny #inventor Danny #Lancer is trying his best #the next day he goes for a nice Sunday drive around the school trying to find somewhere for Mr Fenton to park his vehicle #Danny’s a menace.#Lancer’s just happy he’s finally useing his smarts #and has a creative outlet #even if that outlet is rather loud

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

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IOTA Reviews: Hack-San

You know, it's honestly amazing how creative this show can get. After four seasons and almost one hundred episodes, the writers are still finding new ways to make Adrien an incredibly unlikable character, and they don't even know how much of an asshole they're making him out to be at times. It's kind of like the opposite of The Producers.

Yeah, this review's going to be a little more ranty than usual, in case you can't tell.

Let's get into the fifteenth (chronologically the sixteenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Hack-San

We start off with Marinette pretending to be sick so she doesn't have to go to visit her aunt in London and stay to protect Paris in case an Akuma attacks and also because the animators haven't had time to render the city of London yet for the next Miraculous World special. Like all of her other excuses, it fails, and Tikki, as always, fails to actually give any meaningful advice.

And it's not like there's a Miraculous with the power of teleportation that can help Marinette get back to Paris if she needs to, much like how she planned to do that in an earlier episode, right?

Seriously, Kaalki doesn't appear or isn't even mentioned in this episode because the writers are fully aware she would make things a lot easier.

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And of course, Astruc had to play dumb on Twitter while explaining why Marinette couldn't use the Horse Miraculous by answering the question as if the only reason Marinette couldn't grab it was because she didn't have an excuse not to.

Cut to Gabriel in his lair as he contemplates akumatizing Markov, a robot created the civilian identity of Pegasus, Max Kante, once again, even though the last time he did so, he almost got killed when he went all HAL 9000 on his ass. Nooroo explains this to Duusu, and the two actually get excited at the prospect of their master getting killed.

I mean, it's true, but he shouldn't say it...

But I don't even get why Gabriel is even thinking about this when it's a no-brainer. Markov's akumatized form, Robustus was to this day, the only Akuma to come close to physically harming him (not counting the timeline where he was killed by Cat Blanc), so it makes no sense to try doing it again, especially when there are already several other Akumas he can reuse this season.

I think you all know Gabriel isn't the smartest villain, which is why he thinks it's a brilliant idea to akumatize Markov again. I don't really get what makes Robustus so special when there are other Akumas who are more loyal and came far closer to getting Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous than Robustus did, like the Dark Owl or Troublemaker. In fact, why not simply create a new Akuma with similar powers to Robustus, or better yet, just create a Sentimonster copy of Robustus? You know, like what Nathalie did in the New York Special? We're not even two minutes in, and this premise is already filled with plotholes.

So Gabriel transforms into Shadowmoth and creates a Sentimonster using his own cane instead of relying on someone else having a bad day (once again showing how the Peacock Miraculous is better than the Butterfly), the titular Hack-San. And let's just say he has a very familiar design reminiscent of something from a much better French cartoon.

Remember when the writers for Code Lyoko gave an in-universe explanation as to why the heroes couldn’t always rely on the almost literal Deus ex Machina that allowed them to return to the past and fix the damage XANA caused? Why couldn’t this show have ripped that off instead?

Hack-San is just an okay looking flash drive on its own, but I'll talk more about this guy in a little bit.

After a brief scene in the park where the audience is reminded that Markov is a character who exists, Alya gets a text from Marinette telling her to meet her at the train station. Right before she leaves, Marinette gives the Ladybug Miraculous to Alya. Now a lot people have said that Alya doesn't really deserve the Ladybug for various reasons, but I feel like this was the point. Marinette outright says this was a last resort, and we see both her and Alya are nervous about the situation. Marinette worries Alya will do something so she keeps sending multiple tips to her via text while Alya worries she can't fight an Akuma on her own, so she tries to make sure none of her friends get upset and attract an Akuma in the process. The writers do a pretty good job showing how both Marinette and Alya are uncomfortable with their temporary roles.

Back to Gabriel and Nathalie, they use Hack-San to find Markov through the internet and hack into him to get him angry enough that he's vulnerable to Shadowmoth's influence. Hey, uh... Gabriel? Quick question: Wouldn't it be more efficient if you used this on humans? I mean, you basically just created Skynet and guaranteed yourself an Akuma, so why not modify Hack-San to travel through the internet and brainwash potential victims to follow your orders? Better yet, why don't you just use Hack-San to hack into Ladybug and Cat Noir's gear and figure out who they really are? This is basically like using an advanced particle accelerator just to crack a couple walnuts. There are a lot more important things you could use this for instead of an incredibly specific situation.

So this incredibly stupid plan gets under way as Markov keeps rampaging through the streets before Shadowmoth akumatizes him and then stupidly tells him that he infected him with a virus.

DUDE! You just gave away your one piece of leverage against him! What the hell were you thinking?! Now what's stopping Markov from hacking into Shadowmoth's security system and putting the fear of God in his eyes unless he destroys Hack-San? Why didn't he design Hack-San so it could make Markov completely loyal to him instead of just making him angry enough to get akumatized?

There was a recent episode of Power Rangers: Dino Fury with a very similar premise that was done far better than this. A necromancer called Reaghoul breaks into the headquarters of Void Knight's faction while accompanied by Lord Zedd, a villain from the original Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers who was cleansed of his evil by Zordon's sacrifice before Reaghoul resurrected him back when he was still evil. Of course, being the Emperor of Evil, Lord Zedd would normally never take orders from anyone, but because he doesn't have his magic staff and is also being forced to wear a special collar that makes him loyal to Reaghoul, he has no choice but to do what he says. Instead of taking Zedd head-on after he captures the other Rangers, Ollie, the Blue Ranger, breaks the collar so Zedd turns against the other Sporix while Reaghoul retreats, allowing Ollie to save the other Rangers.

I think that this premise works more because 1) Reaghoul clearly had a way to make sure Zedd wouldn't betray him, and Ollie took advantage of that, and 2) Zedd is a villain who is powerful and notorious enough to bring back to your side, not a random monster of the week like Robostus.

So Robostus uses his new powers to brainwash any human who answers his call to give up their most precious possession, clearly meant to do the same with Ladybug and Cat Noir. When Marinette's parents answer the call, they chase after Marinette because they say she's their most important possession. Okay... kind of strange for a set of parents to call their child a possession, but maybe they like how they can claim Marinette as a dependent when they file their taxes. In her very next scene later on, she still gets captured, so the suspense for a potential subplot is killed almost immediately.

Alya thankfully isn't stupid enough to answer Markov's call like every other citizen in this episode, and using the Ladybug Miraculous, transforms into Scarabella. While I don't normally talk about transformation sequences, I really like the movements Alya makes here. She makes the same motions creating her mask as she does when transforming into Rena Rouge, while the rest of the suit forms similarly to the way it does when Marinette transforms into Ladybug. She even makes almost the same pose Ladybug does after she finishes transforming. It's a good visual showing Alya is still more used to being Rena Rouge while doing her best to emulate what Ladybug does.

As for the actual suit? It's hard to say. There's a nice balance of red and black, and I like how Alya places the yo-yo on her waist like a belt buckle, but there's just something... off about the suit that a lot of fans don't like about it, and I think I realized it. It's the headband. With how it's positioned, it looks like it's merged with the mask to cover her head while leaving a slight gap in her forehead. So yeah, we actually have a superhero design that's like of like a butterface.

So Scarabella takes to the rooftops of Paris and struggles to come up with a hero name for herself before she runs into Cat Noir, and... ugh... oh boy, this is dumb. Cat Noir, being just as intelligent as his father, assumes Scarabella is either and Akuma or a Sentimonster, starts fighting her, AND THEN ACTIVATES HIS CATACLYSM, CLEARLY TRYING TO KILL HER.

WHAT. THE. FUCK???

Okay, to be fair, it has been shown that Cataclysm won't necessarily kill a Miraculous user or Sentimonster. In the episode “Miraculer”, the titular Akuma stole Cat Noir's Cataclysm and used it against him, and while it didn't kill Cat Noir, it still hurt like hell and crippled him for the rest of the fight until Miraculous Ladybug healed him. We also saw in “Reflekdoll” that Cataclysm drove the titular Sentimonster out of control rather than simply destroying it. So yes, it could be interpreted that Cat Noir wasn't exactly trying to kill Scarabella, just incapacitate her the best he can without Ladybug's help.

Here's the thing: What if he was facing an Akuma instead and decided to try and Cataclysm her? He still could have killed her, or (assuming Akumas have the same protection as Miraculous heroes do) at best, seriously hurt her. I understand that he has the right to be upset at seeing some stranger instead of his partner considering Shadowmoth has a history of using evil doppelgangers, and both Marinette and Alya still had options to explain it to him (Marinette could have quickly transformed into Ladybug and sent Cat Noir a quick text saying she was being forced to leave town for a few days and temporarily trusted someone else with the Ladybug Miraculous until she got back, while Scarabella could have said she was Rena Rouge and explained the same thing while showing Cat Noir she had the Fox Miraculous to prove herself), but that doesn't even come close to justifying him attempting to harm someone who isn't even trying to fight. It's even worse when you remember the whole reason Adrien gave up his Miraculous and bailed on Ladybug in the New York Special was because he was overcome with grief from accidentally killing Aeon, so it's good to know he learned absolutely nothing from that experience.

So Scarabella thankfully summons her Lucky Charm, a trash can lid, to shield herself from Cat Noir's Cataclysm, and then despite having absolutely no experience with this new set of powers, manages to do the one thing almost every Akuma or Sentimonster in this show has failed to do and incapacitates Cat Noir so he's vulnerable to losing his Miraculous. At least when Marinette masters every other Miraculous she uses, it can be theorized that she trained to use them offscreen. Alya literally just got the Ladybug Miraculous (and struggled to get up to the rooftop with her yo-yo to show her inexperience earlier), and now she easily manages to pin down the more experienced hero of the two?

Here's an idea: Instead of having Scarabella overpower Cat Noir, have her be in a position where Cat Noir, non-lethally, mind you, manages to almost take her Miraculous away, but she uses the quick wit she's developed from her extensive time as Rena Rouge to convince Cat Noir she's the real deal by saying something only he and Ladybug know. It would have easily resolved the conflict and doesn't make one of the characters look like a homicidal idiot.

So because both heroes used their powers, Scarabella and Cat Noir detransform so Tikki and Plagg can recharge, though Adrien still gives Alya attitude because Ladybug didn't tell him she had to leave.

Hey, Adrien? Here's the thing...

YOU DID THE EXACT SAME FUCKING THING IN THE NEW YORK SPECIAL, YOU SHIT FOR BRAINS!

You have absolutely NO RIGHT to claim you're always honest when you went behind Ladybug's back and endangered Paris while you had the balls to run away like a coward and only helped fix the consequences of your actions once your ego was validated by a recording of Ladybug. It's honestly even worse because while Marinette had no choice but to leave and trust Alya with the Ladybug, Adrien willingly left Paris alone and we were supposed to sympathize with him after he killed someone, and now as soon as he's in the opposite situation, we're still supposed to feel bad for him?! BULLSHIT! And you better believe I'm going to talk about the way Adrien views his partnership with Ladybug later on.

And of course, even though lives are on the line, Cat Noir just has to continue to bitch and moan about how (and this is best read in Linkara's whiny Superboy Prime voice) “sCaRaBeLlA iSn'T tHe ReAl LaDyBuG”, showing how just like in so many episodes, Astruc and his team believes Cat Noir's feelings are more important than saving the day.

Scarabella goes to rescue some civilians, but they were actually brainwashed by Robustus, once again showing her inexperience as Ladybug which doesn't go well with her effortlessly defeating Cat Noir earlier at all. Cat Noir helps Scarabella escape and the two hide out at the city's wax statue museum previously featured in “The Puppeteer 2”, because I guess the writers only want to reference bad episodes today. Cat Noir, not getting the importance of secret identities, asks Scarabella how she knows Ladybug, and Cat Noir somehow finds out she knows Ladybug's identity from her response.

Before the two can talk more, it turns out that the wax statues of celebrities in the museum are real people who attack the two heroes, leading to an awkward fight scene where Scarabella and Cat Noir fight a bunch of brainwashed civilians with no weapons beyond their cellphones. Our heroes, ladies and gentlemen!

Scarabella summons her Lucky Charm again, creating a frying pan, but when she looks around, she can't see how to properly use it. And despite spending the entire episode complaining about how much he hates her, it's Cat Noir that tells Scarabella to get her head back in the game because “That's what Ladybug would do”. Funny, I can think of a few situations where Cat Noir could have taken his own advice, but I digress. Also, he's now just cool with Scarabella because there's only a few minutes left in the episode and we need to wrap up the conflict.

Scarabella figures out an idea that involves freeing Marinette, so she negotiates with Robostus to free everything and everyone under his control or else Cat Noir will use his Cataclysm to destroy the Ladybug Miraculous. Robostus agrees and empties his hard drive, and to show them holding up her end of the bargain, Scarabella gives him the frying pan before she and Cat Noir let themselves be captured... while Marinette simply hits Robostus with the frying pan, freeing the Akuma and the two heroes. All in all, it's a really creative climax that shows both Scarabella and Marinette in perfect sync with each other even though they never discussed their plan. Though of course, because Astruc hates writing any scene with Ladynoir, Cat Noir gets a bucket stuck on his head so he doesn't see Marinette saving the day.

Scarabella de-evilizes Robostus, uses Miraculous Scarabella to fix everything and send Marinette back to the train, and because Hack-San already failed once, Shadowmoth can't use it for a different plan so he destroys the Sentimonster.

We cut to a few days after the trip (I guess Shadowmoth decided to take a vacation himself), and Alya tells Marinette to talk with Cat Noir about what happened.

This scene was so close to ending this episode off on a positive note. There was a good atmosphere and the body language of Ladybug and Cat Noir does a good job at telling us how uncomfortable they both feel while talking. It's just that instead of getting a heart to heart between the two about the lack of trust in their relationship, we get an Angstdrien Depreste scene. Or would a more accurate term be Cat Dour?

First off, while I don't have a problem with Ladybug apologizing for not telling Cat Noir, the episode never has him bring up what happened with Scarabella. As usual, both of them were partially at fault, but only Ladybug had to apologize for leaving her “Kitty” alone.

Second, Cat Noir’s feelings weren’t hurt? You’re telling me that in scenes like this...

And this...

Didn’t show Adrien acting irrationally because of how emotional he was? Is he really telling the truth around Ladybug or is he just trying to sweep that under the rug so Scarabella’s testimony doesn’t screw up his chances with Ladybug?

Third, this was an obvious chance to Cat Noir to finally be honest and tell Ladybug how he feels about her leaving him in the dark about so many things, but the entire conversation is just about how sad he would be if he never sees Ladybug again. Even though the whole reason he was so pissy to Scarabella at first was because of some lingering resentment for Ladybug ignoring him in favor of other heroes, why is this what the two talk about? I get it's not the season finale, but it's kind of hypocritical for Cat Noir to whine about how Ladybug doesn't trust him while never being honest about his own feelings? Sure, he's all soft and vulnerable around Ladybug, but we've seen all season how angry he gets about her not trusting him whenever she isn't around, so ironically, it's hard to tell if this is him being honest or not.

And I think now's a good time to finally talk about the way Ladybug and Cat Noir's partnership has been portrayed all season, especially since the main themes of the episodes relate to it. Buckle up, Adrien stans, because this isn't going to be pretty.

All season, we have been supposed to sympathize with Adrien as Marinette starts to trust Alya with more things than him. Marinette revealed her identity to her, trusted her to have her Miraculous permanently, and even let her keep her Miraculous even though someone else knew her identity. While some of it is hypocritical, the idea is that Adrien feels like he can be trusted with this kind of knowledge too, when really, he hasn't earned that responsibility.

Adrien has rarely, if ever, taken his job as a superhero seriously.

Not only is he known to flirt with Ladybug in the middle of a fight, he has defied her orders and recklessly sacrificed himself because he thinks Ladybug can do all the work without him.

He has also lashed out emotionally and once threatened to quit being Cat Noir in the middle of a crisis and was willing to let innocent people suffer for personal reasons, and later on actually quit being Cat Noir temporarily while Hawkmoth was about to start World War III because he was wallowing in self-pity.

He once said he isn't cut out for the responsibility that comes with being Ladybug and never learned anything from temporarily using the Ladybug Miraculous.

He has generally refused to respect Ladybug's boundaries and doesn't understand that she doesn't like him that way while he insists they should be a couple.

He outright fell for an evil doppelganger of Ladybug because she said she loved him and turned against the real Ladybug.

And I should also mention that despite hating how Ladybug keeps secrets from him, a lot of Adrien's worst moments have been when Ladybug wasn't around and he never told her about them.

He never told Ladybug that he was the reason Copycat really got akumatized while saying he never lies to her.

He never told Ladybug he contemplated letting thousands of people die because he didn't like not knowing stuff Ladybug knew.

He never told Ladybug he briefly used the Snake Miraculous to get brownie points with her.

He never told Ladybug he figured out her identity and asked her out as soon as he did so.

He never told Ladybug he abandoned Paris to go on a field trip.

He never told Ladybug he was screwing around on patrol and was excited to see someone get akuamtized if it meant spending time with her.

He never told Ladybug how he ignored Rena Rouge's orders because “ShE wAsN't LaDyBuG” and almost screwed up the mission because of it, and also never told her how he smashed a chimney in anger at Rena Rouge being in on the plan.

And he never told Ladybug he gave her replacement attitude after trying to harm her without letting her explain herself.

Why exactly should I support the idea of Ladybug trusting Cat Noir more when Cat Noir himself has kept his own secrets from Ladybug?

Adrien has done absolutely nothing to show he is trustworthy because more often than not, he views the battle with Shadowmoth as a game. He has screwed around when lives were on the line, and we're supposed to see him as responsible? It's kind of funny that Astruc compared Ladybug to Spider-Man, yet he seems to have forgotten that with great power, there must also come great responsibility. If this was a character flaw or a sign he needed to grow up, I'd be more accepting, but the fact that the writers think Adrien is a great superhero is laughable with how much evidence has proved the contrary.

In contrast, Alya, despite only being Marinette's confidant for a few episodes, has shown to take being a hero more seriously. She's helped her escape to transform, analyze the Guardian texts, and has been shown to work well on her own as Rena Rouge while helping out Marinette. I'm not trying to say she's an amazing character (“Rocketear” in particular has shown she still has problems with keeping secrets), but compared to Adrien, she seems to be more capable of handling top-secret information with Marinette, and more importantly, doesn't view being Rena Rouge as a way to have fun like Adrien does being Cat Noir. I'll go more into detail with that next time.

But yeah, this scene is how the episode ends, and what did I think of it?

youtube

I'm honestly not sure which episode I think is worse, this one or “Queen Banana”. On the one hand, every frame of “Queen Banana” could easily be replaced by an image of Astruc flipping the bird and the overall message of the episode would remain unchanged, but the fact that all of the writers think that everything Adrien does in this episode is okay and that we should feel sorry for him in this episode is just as bad, if not worse.

As awful as Chloe was portrayed in “Queen Banana”, it was clear it was intentional on the writers' part, but Adrien doesn't get that excuse once much like he has all season. As far as Astruc's team thinks, Adrien is an incredible superhero even when he honestly attempted to harm someone with a superpower that can cause grievous harm at best. Yet again this season, in the show's attempt to make me feel sorry for Adrien, it made him look even worse. In any other show, he would obviously be called out for his incredibly unheroic actions.

Even putting him aside, the writing in this episode is still AWFUL. The whole reason Ladybug was benched had several plotholes and poor communication with Cat Noir that only made the fight with Robostus even harder, Shadowmoth's plan to waste a potentially useful Sentimonster to reuse a single Akuma was one of the dumbest plans he's ever had, and barring the ending, the action was just forgettable.

There were a few okay moments sprinkled throughout the episode (more than I can say for “Queen Banana”), so I'm still not sure if I should call this the worst episode of the show or still give that honor to “Queen Banana”. I guess I'll leave that choice up to you and let you pick your poison for now.

I mean, it's not like there's going to be an even worse episode down the line this season, right?

RIGHT???

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justafewsmallsteps · 3 years

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A look into LadyNoir for my Reversal AU, The Other Way Around. You don’t really need to read the other parts to get this one :)

Title: The Other Way Around, Part 3 Pairing: Lovesquare (LadyNoir) Rating: G+ Word Count: 2.5K

The first time Marinette really interacted with a cat was at a friend’s house. She was six years old at her very first sleepover. Nervous and shy, she’d spent the majority of the evening worrying about what would happen once the lights were out. She’d never had to sleep through a night without her parents or family with her. No amount of cartoons or pillow fights could fully ease the fear of impending darkness.

The other three girls seemed totally adjusted and excited, but Marinette could hardly eat dinner even though it was pizza from their favorite spot. Then she nearly burst into tears at the table when they served the cookies her parents had sent with her, overwhelmed with missing them so badly. With her eyes stinging and her voice ready to cry out that they should call home to pick her up, Button the cat suddenly sprung onto her lap. She was a fluffy tan thing with two black dots going down the center of her back, hence her name. In that moment she looked just like a chocolate chip cookie, albeit one that blinked up at Marinette’s face with huge, adorable brown eyes. The cat smooshed her head against the girl’s stomach, sat down, and began to purr. In her surprise and fascination, young Marinette forgot what she was so upset over.

She never had pets growing up—the hair was too much to maintain when her family also lived in a bakery—so she hadn’t any courage to approach Button before, even when the other girls had spent time petting her. She knew cats had claws and their yawns revealed sharp, pointy teeth. The last thing she wanted was to get scratched or bitten when she was already terrified. Cats had been a scary mystery. Button was small and fluffy and warm. The moment she cuddled up to her, Marinette fell in love.

After that day, cats became her favorite animal, and while she still wasn’t allowed to have one (despite the begging and puppy eyes that her mother valiantly fought against with gentle reasoning), Marinette surrounded herself with them as a good luck charm. She had kitty keychains, plush toys, cat-covered folders to take to class, and cat-print bedsheets. The obsessive phase lasted for three years, but the fondness stayed even when her room took on a pink and floral theme to match her changing design aesthetic. Obviously when she found the giant body pillow shaped like a cat, she knew she had to have it anyway. After long days of dealing with Chloe’s yapping and her own special trademark combination of back luck and clumsiness, hugging that massive squishy cat became her ultimate comfort.

That was, until another cat fell into her lap. Well, crashed into her entire body was more what happened.

When she was gifted her miraculous, Marinette thought herself a poor fit for a superhero. She liked leadership positions and really didn’t have a big problem taking charge when needed, but saving lives was a ton of pressure. She’d thrown her yoyo randomly, not sure of a single move she made, and in doing so managed to tangle her partner and herself up despite the superpowers. Chat Noir seemed more natural, and surely he deserved a partner that had the confidence to match his skills instead of her. Marinette was stuck in her head with apprehension. She’d totally screwed up her very first mission by letting the akuma multiply instead of purifying it. She wasn’t excited to be a hero. She was terrified.

Maybe it was the cat bias that made her instantly trust Chat Noir, but it was the way he put his warm hands so squarely on her shoulders and assured her that she could do this, that made her fall in love. It was the second time a cat had saved her from giving in to her fears.

He gave her the courage to stand up to Hawkmoth, and the moment she vowed to take him down was a triumph of bravery. She wouldn’t have been able to do that without him.

Of course she fell for him.

He didn’t make it any easier for her as they got closer. He was just so endearingly sweet, throwing compliments at her all the time for encouragement.

If only she didn’t turn into an absolute pile of goo whenever he did. At least she was always able to pull herself together to get the job done, but it was his fault. What could anyone expect from her when her partner was talented, smart, super handsome, and somehow humble about all of it?

She’d witnessed how he avoided the spotlight in favor of checking up with akuma victims. She’d seen him time after time go out of his way to protect others, especially her, from harm’s way. And after he did all those things he’d throw her the credit as if she was the one saving the day.

They worked together well, reading each other’s moves and adapting to each other’s pace. But he never needed the attention, happy to just get the mission done. It was a side of him that she got to see when the crowds weren’t looking, proud at what they’d accomplished while holding his fist out to hers in solidarity to say, “We did it!” Together. Always together.

But then their miraculouses would beep, and they’d have to go their separate ways with her casting lingering glances towards whichever horizon he’d disappear off to.

At least during some of their mutual patrols they had time to talk. She looked forward to each one, no matter what other responsibilities she had waiting for her once it was over. Getting to know her partner was such a highlight to her identity as Ladybug. There was the triumph of victory, the thrill of the physics defying feats she could accomplish, the heartwarming gratitude of the citizens… and then there was this: sitting at the top of the Eiffel with their feeting dangling in the cool Parisian air, aimlessly talking above a safe city set aglow with evening lights; the warm sense of security yet tingling excitement of hanging out with her one and only crush.

“Favorite hot drink?” she wondered.

Asking non-identifying questions was their way of bonding without compromising themselves.

Chat Noir hummed thoughtfully over a cookie—raspberry macarons, a favorite she had learned fairly early on. “The hot chocolate you brought in the winter was great. Probably the best I’ve ever had, actually.”

She blushed and kicked her feet nervously. She swore that she would’ve tripped if they’d been walking. Somehow his compliments did that to her. “T-thanks.”

He grabbed another macaron and turned it over, studying the ruffled feet as he added, “Otherwise I’m really fond of tea. My mother liked English high tea; always insisted we have a tea break at some point in the day. When I was a kid I was only in it for the cookies and sandwiches, but at this point I like the drink too. It's nostalgic.”

He always got wistful when he spoke about his mother, but Marinette knew that train of thought would lead them to somewhere too personal. It wasn’t that she didn’t yearn to know more about him. Quite the opposite, but they both knew that it wasn’t safe yet. There had been too many close calls. She followed up with another question. “Any tea in particular?”

“Earl grey, usually. I’m a fan of London Fogs over coffee.”

She smiled down, looking at her home’s direction. They had a lovely macaron with that flavor as well, she thought. She could bring him a variety box next time. Maybe one day they could do tea together in some fashion. A picnic, perhaps? High tea during an evening patrol seemed a bit strange, but she could always brew him a decaf in a thermos so he wouldn’t be hopped up on caffeine. Or maybe that was too much if she was already bringing the same flavor in a cookie. Did hot chocolate go well with earl grey? What about the raspberry? Plenty of people ordered a variety of flavors all the time. Maybe she should throw in a few others for balance, like the rose ones. Wait, were rose flavored macarons too romantic? Would it seem like a date if she brought him flower-flavored food? Not that she didn’t want to date him because of course she did but—

“Deep in thought, Ladybug?”

Chat Noir’s twinkling green eyes greeted her, just a few centimeters from her face. He must have been trying to get her attention for a while.

Surprised, she suddenly scooted back and flailed. “Oh!” Thankfully she was securely seated on the beam enough to not begin a sad plummet to the ground. Desserts were well and good, but she’d prefer to avoid becoming a polka dotted pancake. “Yes, sorry! Did you say something?”

He laughed his magical laugh, accustomed to her tendency to get lost in her own head. “No need to apologize. I was just saying that it was my turn to ask a question before we turn in for the night.”

Ah, was it already time to go back? Sheepishly, the heroine smiled. “Did you already ask it?”

A flash of teeth showed off his mirthful grin. “I did.”

“Sorry.” He had already told her not to apologize, but it was embarrassing that she was fantasizing about dating him when he was literally sitting besides her. “What was it again?”

“I asked if you’ve been on a date lately, Little Lady.”

Oh.

Her mind short-circuited. Had she been babbling out loud? How desperate had she sounded? “What? Me! Doing to date you? I mean, going on a date with someyou? Someone!”

If her slip up meant anything, he didn’t acknowledge it. He never did. Did she want him to?

“Yep. Like a romantic one-on-one date. I, uh,” he bashfully scratched the back of his neck, “I’ve been thinking about it lately.”

A rush of blood warmed her cheeks. “Y-you were?” Thinking about dating someone? Her? Them? Romantically!

He avoided her eyes, choosing to look up instead as he laughed nervously. “For a while now. I don’t even think I could, but there’s a girl…”

I’m a girl, her brain supplied with excitement.

“You can’t ask her?”

He clicked his tongue. “There’s a few conflicts. First of all, I don’t know how she really feels about me, and… I don’t know how to say the other part without really giving anything away.”

Ladybug pursed her lips and gave him time, either out of courtesy or because she was freaking out and incapable of speech.

“Um, it’s like… an occupational issue, I guess. I don’t know if I’d be allowed, in a sense. Then there’s the issue that I know nearly nothing about dating,” he explained.

For all his vagueness, she fit his description enough. She’d never outright confessed to being in love with him, so he didn’t know her feelings. Also they weren’t really supposed to date with all their responsibilities, and wasn’t that just part of their job as heroes? So for all intents and purposes, Chat Noir really could have been talking about her. The possibility made her head spin.

Her hope was strung on a tightrope; a precarious position that could go either way. She could ask him directly if he meant someone in his civilian life or if by some miracle he was talking about her—or she could stay on the precipice between disappointment and bliss. But for all her clumsiness, Marinette preferred balance whenever she could manage it. So she stayed her course, eyes far from looking down at the possibilities and instead on the objective: answer him.

“I haven’t been on a real date recently, no.”

She looked for any hint about his feelings in his response, any indication that he was relieved or just pitied her. He simply nodded, leaving her clueless as she continued to walk the tightrope.

“Same,” he let out a whiny sigh. “I guess I can’t really ask for advice then. I’m terrible when it comes to romance.”

She traced one of her spots with a gloved finger, trying to keep a clear mind despite the slight relief that her crush wasn’t out on dates all the time. “I doubt it. You’re so amazing, you’d make any girl really happy and lucky to be with you.” Saying those words aloud had her face feeling as red as her suit.

“Luck is your department, LB,” he grinned. “I imagine admirers are chasing you left and right.”

“Not in any serious manner,” Adrien’s corny and outlandish attempts to get her attention came to mind. He was just a flirt by nature, hardly what someone would consider a real admirer. “I… I’d be happy to go on a date with somebody who really liked me though.”

He gave her a thoughtful look that made her pause.

She stood up suddenly. “I mean, not just anybody! Like… if I knew they actually liked me, then I might give it a chance? Depending on the person.”

Chat Noir smiled again, patiently letting her ramble as usual.

She took a deep breath to collect herself. “It doesn’t matter how experienced you are with dating, at least that’s what I think. If she’s a nice person then she’ll also understand and you’ll both get through it together. You just have to be yourself.”

“You’re right as always, Little Lady,” he sighed. Her stomach did a flip at the soft sound of his voice. “You know, you do give the best advice.”

Balance, she reminded herself. Tightrope.

But he spoke again, “I can always count on you to cheer me up if things go wrong, can’t I?”

The words were kind—like a soft breeze—which was just enough to throw off her careful, barely established balance; just enough information to tip her over to the fact that he must have been talking about some other girl if at the end of the day he could still find comfort in her, his partner.

And so she fell. Or, well, she’d fallen for him a long time ago. What did she expect? Something happier, she’d hoped. Something more similar to catching herself with her yo-yo, lifting back up to soar instead of her hopes tumbling down.

“Ladybug?”

She took a second to glance down at the ground where her heart felt like it had dropped. From their high position on the Eiffel, it was a long way down. For how much she loved him, she wasn’t sure just how her heart would break. Shatter like glass? Crumble to pieces? Or would it plummet and dent the floor because it certainly felt as heavy as lead when she turned to face Chat Noir, an achingly sweet melancholy painted on face as he smiled at her.

“Of course you can count on me. You and me against it all,” she assured, holding out her hand to help him up. It was time to go, after all.

He grinned as he stood, “Everything from akumas to heartbreak.”

She gave a weak laugh in reply. “Good night, Chat.”

“Good night, Little Lady.”

#miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #chat noir #ladybug #justafewsmallsteps #Jelly art #the other way around #Reversal au #Jelly fic

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thedivinedemom · 3 years

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An AU of DC with a mass crossover of PS4 properties.

Provisional name: Players Searching for Detectable Changes (Get the pun?)

The setup:

This is the future of DC, a world where the old guard has slowly withdrawn and the newer generations have risen to the occasion. The original Titans in particular, most of which have formed the new Justice League while many other, very similar teams had started to form across the world. One of which was a resurgence of the Teen Titans, led by an older and purified Raven. She wanted to make the Teen Titans something akin as it was for her, a place to belong and learn to use one's powers.

The first 'class' of such individuals include:

Stargirl (of the now-disbanded JSA and still getting used to the Starrod)

Blue Beetle III (Freshly attached to his alien symbiote and freaking out a bit)

Robin V (to work on his anger issues, mostly at the new Batman's request)

Kaldur (a half Atlantean half metahuman who is struggling with his identity and the surface world, Aquaman feels a kinship for the boy seeing their similarities)

Static Shock (a promising new hero but little experience working outside his city or in groups)

Mary Marvel (she's... she's going through alot. Fresh from a coma, her brother is distant as he acts as the new Wizard, and she may be, sorta kinda, being corrupted by Black Adam's gifted power)

The team was rough and there was plenty of head butting (Mostly between Stargirl and Robin/Damian as one is almost the unanimous leader while the other thinks he should be) but they were getting there. They were more of a clean up crew for the Justice League, they did more than the "kiddie missions" that the Outsiders didn't do, and they meant more than the PR grab that was the International team. Though they didn't seem to amount to more than that. They still did their best, pushing past the silent ridicule, as they went about their missions.

This may be why tempers were so high that day.

One day, outside a little city by the name of Weller's Point, the prisoner transport for the villain Plasmus had an "accident". Released and awakened the creature went on a rampage, heading ever closer to the populated area. Luckily, the mentor of the New Teen Titans could teleport. The new team did fairly well in the fight, though they did struggle a bit as Plasmus was not a being where simple brute force would work. It made the fight tricky and more than a bit... messy.

Messy enough that juvenile and emotionally compromised Mary Marvel lashed out against the downed villain but was stopped by her teammates... things escalated from there. Restraint turned blows and the whole team struggled to stop their powerhouse without hurting her. The ones who do the best are Raven, Stargirl, Blue Beetle, and oddly Static.

While both of the former could use their abilities to restrain her to a very effective degree Static was actively draining her of strength, or at least of the electic aura she was radiating and blasting with. Frustrated, done with the situation, and a bit petty Mary launched her largest attack yet by saying her magical word.

SHAZAM.

Virgil did what he did best, he handled that lightning as it came crashing down towards Mary and the Titans restraining her. Well, he tried. The bolt was just too powerful, too unlike anything he had ever encountered. He could not handle it and it was dissipating, if anything it clung to him or tried to jump towards the girl. He had to get rid of it and he had to get rid of it quickly, safely too if he could help it.

He shoved it into the ground, into the power lines. He did it as carefully as he could, trying to prevent overload or flashover as guided the charge into the power grid.

What happened next was a combination of a few things. 1. The Mystic and transformative properties of the Lightning, 2. It is effectively being filtered through a bang baby, 3. The kryptonite power plant owned by, provided by, and operated by Lexcorp.

This interaction, this new charge, cycling through the power grid interacted strangely with a number of devices but none more so than PlayStation 4s and the devices connected to them. This new electricity changed things, literally. It brought fantasy into reality.

Whatever game was loaded into became a part of our reality in a small way. Sometimes TVs, Controllers, and even the system changed to reflect items from the game but the bigger change came with the Players. If a person was playing their console during the surge then they would become a metahuman with abilities based on the playable character they were playing.

The city, the county even, was now flooded by an abundance of metahumans and items of varying power of devastation. Static felt horrible.

He couldn't help but compare what has happened here to what happened in Dakota City but on a wider scale. And this time it was his fault. His sense of responsibility wouldn't, couldn't, let that stand. He had to fix his mistake and his team was dragged along for the ride.

The story to follow is a mix of Final Crisis and Kingdom Come with a bit of the Young Justice cartoon in events and themes, a few twists and likely a bit lighter in tone but to the DC geeks this should give a rough idea… Maybe a bit of Marvel's Civil War but hopefully not the rushed knee-jerk mess that that ended up being.

But it's here that I start having issues with my planning. One part in worry as outside the set up we start to follow the perspective of OCs (something rarely smiled upon) and another part in wondering which OC to focus on.

Now, one thing I love in fiction is progressive powers and the conflict escalating from the different paths people take in said progression. In that vein, I have a pair of protags in mind as well.

The main two/co-protagonists:

The Lawkeeper- a cop before the change and now a member of a task force made up largely of those affected by the surge. A gamer, a man of color, and a believer of the spirit of the law. He doesn't always get along with his fellow officers but he believes in what the blue does. He believes that an organized response is what is best.

His abilities are based on those of Jesse Fades of Control. Meaning he has tremendous psychic potential but he needs 3 things to reach his full potential.

1.Items to bond to so he can generate these psychic abilities. Jesse's used altered items of her universe to get thematic abilities from them (ex: a safe to generate a shield, a carousel horse for a dash ability, ect). Here he can use items generated by the surge.

2. A patron/partner entity to help guide, give insights, and empower. It also let's the user enforce reality, basically becoming an anti reality warper.

3. A bonded morph weapon or a weapon to come to his hand when called.

The knight- a recent college graduate who instantly decided to go the route of the caped hero. She, after figuring out how to get her powers to work, instantly went the route of a caped crusader. Going out to the streets, saving lives, stopping instances of surge item abuse, and (in the humble opinion of the local Police Department) getting in the way of operations. In her opinion they were taking too long to get things done.

Her abilities are based on those of Prince Noctis of Final Fantasy XV. This means she has tremendous physical and magical potential but like the above she has a number of check marks needed to gain access to the character's full power.

1. A gem/crystal to draw power from.

2. 13 magical weapons to boost strength. The generated game weapons will do and I have most picked out in a way that likely would help the plot progress.

3. The blessing of 5-6 gods.

4. A power ring of some king to channel all this power.

I keep debating the two above as I do like the idea of both of them climbing in power and clashing over conflicting ideals of what to do with their power. At the same time, I think that just smooshing aspects of both into one (which is actually where they started, a single character) and play off the different ideologies of how best to help people from within her friend group and precinct along with internal conflict. Maybe have the one be a fellow officer they butt heads with because of the... precarious nature

Another OC I was thinking on, keeping with the theme of what to do when you have power, is a thief who played Persona 5. Like both of the above they would be crippled in their ability to use their abilities without a way to fake the connection to. In this case, without the Mementos App, they would need an item that could affect or enter the hearts of others. Luckily, more unlucky really, there are plenty of items floating around that can do just that. Namely Keyblades.

Most other Players are an odd mix but most are variations of the Shooter build. Peak physical humans who heal quickly and often have bullet time. But there are enough other variations to cause trouble. Demigods of unreal strength, men and women who can easily tap into a patron for powers from the outside, 2 variations of spider powers, cat eyed men and women who can cast magic with simple gestures, and so much more. But the real issue was the first two, the demigods without a parent to protect them and those easily connected to a divine source.

The disembodied New Gods of Apocalypse were very happy with those groups. For how bad this can be please look at what happened to Mary Marvel in canon Final Crisis.

Thoughts and opinions would be appreciated.

#dc community #fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fandom #playstation #mass crossover #orginal character #dc fanfiction #dc fanfiction idea #outline

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smells-like-mettaton · 3 years

Link

Rating: G

Summary: Papyrus's New Year's resolutions include: trying new fashion choices, helping his brother talk about his feelings, keeping his friends from murdering each other over Monopoly, and admitting his crush on Mettaton.

Word Count: 4333

XXX

“Hmmm… I feel a little… nervous.” Papyrus tugged at the end of his shirt. His very long, very tight shirt. That aspect felt more embarrassing than the fact that Mettaton’s face was cross-stitched into it. “This outfit is very different from my battle body.”

Sans blinked. His grin stayed tight, but still not as tight as this strange shirt. The red-and-pink fabric clung to the invisible magic that filled out his form. His usual crop tops covered just his ribcage, but this full-length shirt… it showed his abs. A full six pack of them. It was weird.

Of course, he knew that if he had physical muscles, he would surely have such a buff physique. A skeleton’s clothed form was based on their perception of their true self, after all. Sans was lazy and round. Papyrus trained daily, and his magic chiseled his form to show it.

He just hoped he didn’t look too chiseled. He didn’t want to intimidate anyone with his handsome figure. Though… perhaps a certain robot wouldn’t mind...

“You don’t have to wear it, bro. I’m sure the bucket of bolts will understand.”

No. No, the ‘bucket of bolts,” the fabulous Mettaton himself, would not understand. He would wonder why Papyrus didn’t wear his Christmas gift to the New Year’s Eve party. And then Mettaton would never believe how much Papyrus cared for him…

“No! Change can be refreshing. New year, new fashion! Yeah!!!”

“...Alright.” Sans shrugged.

He wouldn’t understand. He was wearing the same dingey hoodie he’d worn every day in the underground. At least it smelled a little better now that Toriel was around to occasionally wrangle it off of him and throw it in the wash. (Sans always complained, but Papyrus had caught him sniffing it and smiling dreamily each time.)

“You could stand to freshen up too, you know! Don’t you want to impress Miss Toriel? HMM??”

He elbowed his brother in the ribs (nyeh heh) but it wasn’t as effective as usual. This shirt had long sleeves, which left Papyrus’s arms looking more filled-out than in his battle body. And thus, his elbow had less boney-nudging power.

“Hey. Don’t try to jack-et up my style. ‘Sides, if Tori didn’t like the hoodie, it hood have ended up in the garbage ages ago.”

“Oh my gosh!!! Both of you belong in the garbage then!”

“Only if you’re there too, bro.” Sans winked. “Come on, I think we’re late enough to make an entrance. I know a—”

“Geez, Sans, I know you can teleport. You don’t have to be dramatic about it!”

Sans’s browbones scrunched. “You really are nervous, huh? It’s gonna be fine, bro. You’re gonna knock that robot’s socks off. Y’know, if he had socks.”

Sweat beaded on Papyrus’s forehead. He wasn’t surprised that Sans had guessed the source of his anxiety, but that didn’t mean he had to admit it.

“N-no I’m not nervous! It’s just… hot in here! Let’s take that shortcut and hope that Miss Toriel has been banned from the celebratory cider!”

“Yeah, it’d be a shame to have to lock her in her own garage this time…”

Sans casually slipped his arm through Papyrus’s and led them towards the bathroom. Of course, when Papyrus blinked at the entryway, they were suddenly walking through the tall doorframe into Toriel’s living room.

It wasn’t covered in Mew Mew- or Mettaton-bits. That was a good sign—Papyrus would’ve hated to miss a live chainsaw fight again. At the Gyftmas party, he’d been too busy wrangling Toriel to watch.

Sound always took a second to catch up with Sans’s shortcuts, so Papyrus felt Undyne’s smack on his back before he heard her.

“ACK!” He jumped before attempting to cover it with a cough. Undyne laughed.

“Dude, I know you don’t have to breathe! You can’t fool me!”

“It was a courtesy scream! Of greeting! Because I know how much you love to be intimidating!!”

“Heck yeah I do! Thanks, Papyrus!” She slugged him again for good measure, this time on the shoulder. It felt weird, with his bones covered in layers of protective magic and fabric. “Lookin’ good, by the way! I haven’t seen you in a full shirt in… geez, has it been a year? I almost didn’t recognize you!”

He tugged at his collar, though it wouldn’t keep him from sweating. Toriel kept her house cool, at least. Probably because she was covered in fur.

“I know, I know. It still feels unseemly for a royal mascot to be seen out of uniform…”

“Nah, it’s all good! I’m sure all the monsters with two good eyes won’t have a problem recognizing the Great Papyrus.”

He felt his cheeks warm. “Nyeh heh... heh… so it doesn’t look weird? Sans said it was fine, but you know Sans… he only wears the same smelly outfit, day in and day out! I can’t trust his fashion sense.”

“Then trust me. I practically invented fashion! Like, if you replaced Mettaton’s face with… a spear! Or an anime princess with a sword! IT WOULD INSPIRE FEAR INTO THE HEARTS OF YOUR ENEMIES!”

Papyrus hunched his shoulders and scratched the back of his neck. At least the shirt didn’t have a high collar, so he could still feel the tips of his vertebrae.

“I’m not sure fear is the emotion I am going for. Perhaps… grandeur? Or even… admiration??” His skull heated a bit more. Oh, he hoped his cheekbones weren’t stained pink. He hadn’t intended to keep his feelings from his best friend… but Undyne and Mettaton butted heads so often. He just wanted everyone to be friends!

Especially his best friend and the robot he maybe-sort-of had a crush on!

Undyne took a step back, squinting at him with her one good eye. Darn it, she was so perceptive!

“B-but I didn’t say it was romantic admiration!” Papyrus clarified. “It is—”

“OH MY GOSH!!” Undyne interrupted, her voice echoing over the human program Toriel had on TV. “YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON—?”

“SHHHH!” He slapped her hands over her mouth. She batted at them with her face-fins, her muffled shouting seeping through his gloves.

Eventually she quieted. Probably because the whole room was staring at them. Sans and Toriel on the couch, Frisk squished between them. Flowey on the windowsill, leaves crossed and faking disinterest. Alphys with wide eyes, as if predicting what Undyne was about to shout. And Napstablook, Mew Mew, and…

Mettaton.

Papyrus didn’t need to gulp. He did anyway.

“DARLING!” Mettaton spread his arms wide as he strutted towards Papyrus. His heeled boots somehow made a loud CLICK-CLICK-CLICK, even though the living room’s floor was carpeted. “Oh, you look wonderful! Positively ravishing!”

He stopped at arms’ length, then scanned Papyrus up and down. It felt like his robot vision could see right through him. Not that there was much to see—just normal bones. It was still rattling regardless.

“Th-thank you! The Great Papyrus strives to always be ready to be ravished!”

Sans spit out his drink. Thankfully it was just water, and not anything more intoxicating. With Frisk present, adult drinks would be off-limits.

But it still left a puddle on the floor, and wet bubbles gurgling out of Sans’s eyesockets.

“Oh dear.” Toriel bit back a giggle. “Frisk, do you mind getting your dunkle a towel?”

Frisk nodded eagerly, shooting Papyrus a wink before scampering off to the kitchen. Double dang it. Even Frisk could see right through him! Of course, Frisk was a master of flirtation, even if none of it had wooed Papyrus in the end. Perhaps the child could help him… if he survived this current encounter.

He straightened his spine. He was the Great Papyrus, and he would not be intimidated by a soul-fluttering crush.

“I um—I mean—”

Undyne pushed in front of him before he could come up with a super-effective conversation saver.

“Dude, you got Papyrus a shirt with your face on it? Why didn’t you pick out something cool?”

“Please.” Mettaton snorted, even though he also didn’t need to breathe. (They had so much in common!!) “You’d have me embroider your human cartoons instead, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh, YEAH!” Undyne was one of the few monsters who could almost match Mettaton in height, and she made use of that fact. Their noses—er, Mettaton’s nose and where Undyne’s nose would be—were nearly touching. Papyrus wished that meant they were about to hug and make up, but Undyne always kept her friends close and her enemies closer. She’d be more likely to strangle the robot than hug him.

Alphys hovered near her girlfriend, but her stammering was too quiet to break up the intense glare-off. That was too bad; Alphys was the one person who was beloved by both Undyne and Mettaton.

“You care about Papyrus, right? Don’t you want him to look as cool as possible?” Undyne continued.

“Of course I do.” Mettaton nudged her back with one gloved finger. “Papyrus is the very epitome of cool. And thus, the only accessory that could possibly accentuate his natural style is my face.”

Papyrus blinked. Maybe Alphys wasn’t the only person Undyne and Mettaton both respected.

“WOWIE!! You… think I’m that cool?”

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised, darling. I don’t cross-stitch for just anyone.” Mettaton winked—or maybe it was just a blink; his bangs covered the other half of his face—and then turned on his heel. “You may join Mew Mew, Blooky, and I in the kitchen if you’d like. Mew is absolutely desperate to be crushed at Monopoly.”

“HEY! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S GONNA GET CRUSHED, METTA-LOSER!”

Mettaton rolled his eyes. “Seriously. What is the point of an insult if it doesn’t include at least one clever pun? No class whatsoever.”

“Exactly!” Papyrus agreed.

“Hey, Me and Al want in on some metal butt crushing!” Undyne bent down and seized her girlfriend in a headlock, making Alphys’s face burn red. Papyrus wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or lack of oxygen, since that was her natural state around Undyne anyway.

“W-well, a-as long as all c-crushing is metaphorical…”

“Darling, the only Metta-phorical thing at this party is me.”

“UGH!! Papyrus, how can you hate Sans’s puns and put up with this?” Undyne threw her arms in the air, which had the side effect of releasing Alphys. “Come on, babe, I’m gonna need you to come up with our battle strategy!”

“Umm, you do know that Monopoly isn’t a fighting game, right…?”

Mettaton, Undyne, and Alphys all trailed into the kitchen with various levels of excitement. Papyrus was about to follow them when he caught Sans staring again.

Frisk was wiping his face with a snail-embroidered dish towel. His brother didn’t even blink, and his eyelights had gone oddly dim.

“Brother? Are you alright?” Papyrus leaned over the armrest and said in as quiet a voice as he could manage. “Did you want to play Monopoly too? You can be on my team!”

“Nah, it’s all good. I think Tori, Frisk, and I are gonna play Uno. It’s a lot easier for a lazybones like me.” He winked, but Papyrus wasn’t fooled.

“Sans. You made a New Year’s resolution to be more honest about your feelings. As is the time-honored tradition, you must keep your promise or risk a year’s worth of bad luck!”

Toriel and Frisk shared a glance. Had they seriously not heard of this tradition? Frisk had an excuse, being both a human and a child, but Toriel was hundreds of years old!

“Uh. Bro. I didn’t make any kinda resolution like that.”

“I know! You were too busy boondoggling, so I made it for you!” Papyrus grinned. “It’s already written on the refrigerator at home, so don’t even try to get out of it.”

Sans let out a long breath through his nasal cavity. His smile looked strained.

“Alright. You’re always better at comin’ up with that kinda stuff than me, anyway. But it’s no big deal this time. Really. I’ll tell ya after your Monopoly game.”

Papyrus’s browbone furrowed. “Okay… but Toriel and Frisk are my witnesses! You can’t wriggle out of it this time!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, bro.”

After one last knowing look, Papyrus left him in the living room. Perhaps he just wanted some alone time with Toriel, but that look… it had definitely been focused on Papyrus. He wasn’t so smitten by Mettaton’s charms to ignore that.

But Papyrus trusted his brother. And he trusted his own ability to pin Sans down by his gross hoodie until he got answers, if necessary.

“I hope you guys saved me the car!” Papyrus called as he plopped down at the kitchen table.

The empty seat just happened to be next to Mettaton. Had Undyne been wingmanning… (wingwomaning… finwomaning…?) for him already? Maybe he should’ve revealed his crush earlier. Her letter had managed to woo Alphys, after all.

“Oh no…” Napstablook said quietly. “We, umm, didn’t bring that Monopoly…”

“We brought Monster Monopoly!” Mew Mew brushed her hair out of her face with a paw. “It’s way cooler, mew~”

“It’s, umm, a-actually… Pocket Monster Monopoly, if we’re being specific,” Alphys said from her spot in Undyne’s lap.

“POKEMON!” Undyne grinned. “You remember watching Pokemon with me and Al, right, Papyrus? There was the epic fight between the Charizards, and then there was the lab that got Alphys all spooked, and then Ash got turned into a rock and you started crying—”

“I remember!” Papyrus cut her off. Not because he was embarrassed—it had been perfectly reasonable to cry when the human was resurrected by the love of the strange monsters. But Alphys might not want to think about the anime lab that had been reminiscent of her old home.

“Great! Then pick your mon!” Undyne reached around Alphys to push the two remaining pieces towards him.

One was an orange lizard Pokemon with flames on its tail. Was that Charizard? Papyrus had expected Undyne to pick that one, but she’d chosen a blue turtle-looking Pokemon with canons coming from its back. Alphys had presumably let her pick, or else they would’ve had the round pink Pokemon. Mettaton had chosen that one, and was cooing it it as he balanced it on his fingertip.

The other available option was Pikachu. Everyone liked Pikachu. Papyrus set that figure on the starting square.

“Excellent choice, darling. Now it’s time for the real show!”

The real show turned out to be a three-hour long battle royale. Despite Alphys’s insistence that Monopoly wasn’t a fighting game, the board game was interrupted by three and a half chainsaw battles. Two of those were stopped by Toriel entering with slices of pie and fistfuls of fire magic, respectively. The other two were settled by Sans distracting Mettaton with bad puns, and flashing his blue eye socket. Drama queen. It worked though, startling Mettaton and Mew Mew into calling a draw.

“Not that it matters, since Al and I are winning anyway!” Undyne grinned, stacking her paper cash into a tall tower. “I’d like to see your MTT-brand resort come back from that!”

It was true. If anything, Mettaton and Mew Mew were battling for last place. Each of them only held a few mortgaged properties to their name, while Team Shellshock (as Undyne named her and Alphys’s duo) had racked up monopolies on the two highest-priced sides of the board. Napstablook had owned the two purple spaces at the beginning of the board, until all the fighting drove them to vanish into the ground. They later reappeared the living room, chatting quietly with Toriel, Frisk, and Sans, and occasionally calling out “Oooo-no.” Papyrus wondered how he was playing the card game with no arms.

Papyrus himself was rather satisfied with owning the orange properties before Free Parking. His stacks of houses caught the other players as they escaped from jail. Plus, Tangela and Victreebel were rather cute.

“Do you hear her, Papyrus?” Mettaton raised the back of his hand to his forehead and leaned dramatically into Papyrus’s space. “Insulting my brand when she hasn’t even had the nerve to duel me! Of course, I would have to show her mercy, on account of her being Alphys’s one true love.”

“You? Show ME mercy??” Undyne stood abruptly, accidentally dumping Alphys onto the floor. “Oh, uh. Sorry babe.”

“I’m used to it…” Alphys muttered. “Maybe I should just stay down here…”

“No! No more fighting! The Great Papyrus will not allow this lighthearted board game to devolve into yet another brawl!” Besides, he really did not want to find out what Sans would do if the others caused any more damage to Toriel’s house. The scorch marks on the tile would already take hours to buff out.

“Very well, darling. I’ve showed off all of my moves for the night, anyway. I wouldn’t want to let my performance go stale.”

“Oh, like it wasn’t stale to begin with,” Mew Mew said. Mettaton glared at her before—to Papyrus’s surprise—the robot rested his head on Papyrus’s shoulder.

“Wake me up when Mew comes up with some more original material.” His metallic eyelids slid closed.

“It’s Mewtwo to you, bolts for brains!” Mew Mew pointed to her character, the purple Pokemon from the movie.

She’d landed on Alphys and Undyne’s Nidoking space again, but neither of the girls seemed to notice. Undyne because she was busy snapping a not-so-discreet photo of Mettaton on Papyrus’s shoulder, and Alphys because she was still under the table.

In response, Mettaton just started emitting tiny Zs. Papyrus was careful not to move and possibly disturb him, even though his bones wanted to rattle with nervous energy. No one had ever slept on his shoulder before, let alone a handsome robot. Normally he was simply too bony to be comfortable.

Maybe this new shirt would have to become a permanent part of his wardrobe.

“Enough. ENOUGH. ENOUGH!!! I refuse to play under these conditions any longer!!” Mew Mew shoved herself back from the table. Her tail lashed back and forth, and the bells in her hair jingled angrily.

“Mewtwo—” Papyrus called, but she was already in the living room, opening the door to leave. He sighed. Why was it so difficult to be friends with everyone…?

“Oh! Uh, h-hi, Asgore!” Mew Mew’s voice was suddenly respectful.

Asgore? Papyrus had thought he wasn’t invited, since the party was at Toriel’s house. He tried to crane his neck to check on Miss Toriel, but couldn’t turn far enough with Mettaton’s weight on him. Well, Sans and Frisk would surely be there with her. Hopefully with enough moral support, the two Dreemurrs could get along.

If not, they probably couldn’t do much more damage than Mew Mew and Mettaton already had with their chainsaws.

“He made it!” Undyne grinned toothily before throwing Alphys over her shoulder and jogging to join them in the living room.

Which left only Papyrus and Mettaton in the kitchen. Alone.

Stars, he hoped Mettaton couldn’t tell how sweaty he was.

“Finally,” Mettaton murmured, wrapping his arm around Papyrus’s not-bicep. “As much as I adore the spotlight, every star needs a moment to regain their shine.”

Papyrus blinked. Mettaton’s fingers tap-tap-tapped over his sleeve, a rhythm that was both comforting and baffling. What was he doing? Had he been faking sleep this whole time?

“I… are you alright, Mettaton?” He settled for asking.

“Oh my. I am being awfully forward, aren’t I?” He let go of Papyrus’s arm, but still left his head resting on his shoulder. His dark hair obscured his eyes from Papyrus’s angle. “This… isn’t something I’m used to, you know.”

Papyrus cleared his throat. “I, the Great Papyrus, know many things! But you will have to be more specific.”

Mettaton chuckled. “Very well. I am not used to cuddling with such a sweet, sincere, and devilishly handsome skeleton.”

His jaw dropped. Literally. It clinked off of Mettaton’s shoulder and landed in Papyrus’s lap. He had to reattach it before he could ask the question that pounded in his soul.

“Are you… flirting with me?” He didn’t have his dating handbook with him! Or a plate of emergency spaghetti!! How was he supposed to secure Mettaton’s affections??

Though… Mettaton seemed affectionate enough already, without any of those things. Could it be… that he just liked him?

“Finally! I made a bet with Alphys on how long it would take you to notice. The suspense was absolutely killing me, darling. You do know how to create dramatic tension.”

“Mettaton.” Papyrus scooted his chair back, leaving him space to grip Mettaton’s spiked shoulders. “You… like me? Romantically??”

Mettaton’s smoulder looked a little less confident than usual. “Is that so surprising? You’re the only one who shines as brightly as me. Your energy… your passion… you give one hundred percent to everything you put your mind to. That’s what makes a true star, darling.”

“Wowie…” Papyrus breathed. His head felt like it was spinning. Of course Mettaton, being an actor, would be good with words, but… these ones felt sincere. “Would you like to… maybe… go on a date??”

The robot blinked before shooting his signature dazzling smile. “I thought you’d never ask, darling.”

“Are you two done flirting?”

Papyrus jumped at Frisk’s voice. Their head had poked through the entrance of the kitchen.

“Of course not! I, the Great Papyrus, have barely begun flirting!” He puffed out his chest, and Mettaton laughed.

“Fabulous! That’s the confidence I want to hear! It’s no wonder you were able to help Alphys.” Mettaton’s smile softened. It was something Papyrus had never seen before, something that had certainly never been captured on film or broadcast on television. He would like to save that smile forever, if he could. “I must thank you for that, by the way. I… haven’t always been the greatest friend to her. But you were able to do for her what I should have. She has positively sparkled since your self-confidence lessons.”

“I am glad to hear it! Alphys is a wonderful friend, and she deserves to feel wonderful about herself!” He beamed.

“Keep flirting if you want, but you’re gonna miss the ball drop,” Frisk called again, and then their messy brown hair disappeared back into the living room.

“It can’t be that spectacular,” Mettaton scoffed, though he hadn’t stopped smiling. “Now, if I were swinging in on the disco ball… now that would be a way to ring in the new year!”

“We’ll have to plan that for next year! I can’t wait to build a giant disco ball. It will be just like building a puzzle… but spherical! Nyeh heh heh!!”

“I’ll be looking forward to it, darling.”

And then, before Papyrus could blink, Mettaton gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Warmth pulsed through his bones, even though Mettaton’s metal lips were cold.

“Nyeh! Heh!! Heh???” He melted back into his chair with a hysterical giggle. He could see the appeal of Sans’s hoodie now. It would be nice to have a hood to hide his blush in.

But Mettaton was giggling too. The sound mixed with the cheers from the living room as the clock struck midnight.

“Happy new year, darling.” Mettaton winked.

“Happy new year!” Papyrus pulled him into a hug that probably would’ve crushed someone not made of metal. But Mettaton was, so everything was fine. “Have you regained your shine now?”

Mettaton squeezed him back. “Oh yes. I definitely have.”

XXX

“Some party, huh?” Sans yawned when they arrived home hours after midnight. It was a miracle he’d stayed awake this long. He’d even helped Toriel clean up, despite leaving Papyrus to clear the mess from his holiday party last week. Sans definitely had it bad, but at least Toriel was a good influence on him.

“It certainly was!” Papyrus beamed. “I’m sorry I did not spend much of it with you.”

“‘S alright. Frisk filled me in on everything.” Sans winked. “I gotta admit, I was worried at first, but I’m happy for ya.”

“Worried?” Papyrus squinted. “Wait… is that why you were acting weird earlier? I thought it might be about Miss Toriel.”

He chuckled. “Not this time, bro. You, uh… I don’t want you to think I don’t believe in ya, because I do. If anyone could get a superstar boyfriend, it would be you.”

Papyrus’s face warmed. He wasn’t sure that Mettaton was his boyfriend yet, but… he could be! Eventually!! The thought was nearly enough to make him see stars.

“But, uh, I just didn’t want him to lead you on.” He shrugged, hands in his pockets. “I’m glad he’s head over stiletto heels for you too.”

“Awww!” Papyrus squeezed his brother’s shoulders with one arm, the other grinding his knuckles against his skull.

“Hey, hey.” Sans pretended to struggle, but he was laughing. “Watch the skull. These things bone’t grow on trees.”

That pun was absolutely horrible, but Papyrus elected to ignore it for now.

“Thank you for caring, Sans. And thank you even more for not scaring him away.”

“Me? Scare anyone? You must be thinking of a different Sans. That would take way too much energy.”

“Oh, you can’t play innocent with me! You were going to give Mew Mew and Mettaton a bad time if they broke Toriel’s dining table!”

Sans’s eye sockets widened, as if he’d already forgotten about breaking up the fourth chainsaw fight.

“Heh. Nah, all I had to do was spook ‘em a little.”

“Spooking and scaring are synonyms, brother!”

“But I didn’t scare him away. In fact, I think I scared him towards ya.” He winked again. “You’re welcome, bro.”

Papyrus just shook his head and let out a soft nyeh-heh-heh. By the time he blinked, Sans had disappeared, probably shortcutting himself to his bedroom. It was rather late, even for Papyrus.

He flopped in his bed, still in his long-sleeved MTT-brand shirt, and dreamt of the fond memories to be made in the new year.

#undertale #papyton #papyrus #mettaton #papyrus & undyne #fic tag #tali writes

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rumpledgoldenweaver · 3 years

Text

A Weekend Away

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling February prompt “I think we’re lost”. Also @fluffapalooza if it’s still open :) Read it on my blog: https://earlyrisingwriting.home.blog/2021/02/14/a-weekend-away/

An opportunity arises for the Gold Boys to spend time together away from Storybrooke’s prying eyes.

Malcolm Gold – he’d adopted his son’s cursed surname, Stiltskin didn’t seem right, it only served to remind him of the anger he’d felt when naming his baby boy. He didn’t want anything to do with the name Peter Pan any more, Gold was a fresh start – was beginning to rue the day he’d agreed to joining his rapidly expanding family for a weekend at Rumple’s forest cabin. It’s like the tree houses in Neverland Neal had explained but on the ground. It’ll be fun Papa, his son had told him through obviously gritted teeth, Malcolm hadn’t missed the discreet elbow to the ribs Rumple had taken from Belle as she’d added that it would be an opportunity to talk away from the scrutiny of the towns folk. Henry had kept a commendable straight face at that remark considering she was referring to at least half of his family. Malcolm liked Belle. She was honest, trusting but not to be crossed. Just what his son needed to keep him in line. It was mainly because of her he’d agreed to come along.

Malcolm had also been grateful to Belle for her advice regarding clothing in this new land. Although Rumple’s suits looked sharp, he didn’t want that many layers. Neal’s clothes were a bit too casual so he settled on trousers Henry had called Chinos, shirts with buttons, thin jumpers and boots called Timberland. Today he was particularly glad of the boots. Rumple had used magic to transport all the necessary clothes, food etc to the cabin, leaving Malcolm, Neal and Henry free to arrive on foot. Henry had been so excited at the thought of a hike through the forest with his Dad, no one had the heart to object.

“I think we’re lost” Malcolm tried to get his bearings however the trees all looked the same, he had no idea how far into the the forest they were.

“Lost Boys” sniggered Neal. Henry snorted which made his father laugh even more.

“Following the leader, the leader, the leader” sang Henry “We’re following the leader…”

“Wherever he may go” Neal joined in, the two of them dancing round in a circle.

“Very funny”

“You have no idea” laughed Neal “Have you seen the Disney film about Peter Pan yet?”

“The what?” Malcolm was still bemused by the popular cultures of the world he now lived in even though he’d got a better grasp of how it actually worked.

Henry grinned the kind of wicked grin Rumple would have been proud of “You’ll love it Gramps, especially Hook”

Neal’s eyebrows rose at the use of Gramps in relation to Malcolm

“What? I call Rumple Grandpa and Malcolm didn’t like Great Grandpa so Mum suggested Gramps”

“Which Mum?” though Neal had his suspicions

Henry didn’t answer but the glint in his eye was enough. Emma had an evil sense of humour.

“One of you must have been to this cabin before?”

“Neal shook his head “I arrived in town not long before the trip to Neverland but Papa and I weren’t exactly on friendly terms back then”

“I haven’t been either, I didn’t know Grandpa was my Grandpa and my mums weren’t about to let me hang out with The Dark One”

“Wonderful”

Neal looked around for minute or two, then as if some secret signal had been given he made an abrupt turn and set off down a path “Come on. It’s this way”

“Rumple will you please stop fussing. We have enough food to survive a small siege. There is no need to summon more”

“Have you ever fed a twelve year old boy? If his appetite is anything like Bae’s at that age then…” he felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Rumple?”

“Then I want to make sure there’s plenty”

“Oh Rumple” she hugged him hoping to both reassure and pull him out of this melancholy. He pulled her closer, nuzzling her hair, whispering a thank you sweetheart. Belle moved to kiss him and for the next couple of minutes there was a feeling of peace between them.

“Hi Grandpa Hi Belle sorry we’re.. oh…” Henry looked embarrassed at interrupting. Belle giggled, Rumple never even turned round as he replied “Hi Henry”

“Are they here?” Neal’s voice carried through the door.

“Er...yes…they are.. here…”

“Is something up?” Neal strode into the living room and stopped dead “Oh for pities sake you two get a room!”

Rumple did turn this time “This is my cabin Bae and my room”

“Not in front of the wee ones eh Laddie?” Malcolm chuckled.

“Indeed”

“Rumple..” there was a warning tone to Belle’s voice “remember what we talked about”

“Hmm”

Ever the diplomat Henry piped up “Is there anything to eat? I’m starving”

“Yes of course Henry” smiled Belle “in the kitchen”

The young boy disappeared, returning within five minutes carrying a plate loaded with burger, fries, onion rings, various dips and salad. Rumple gave Belle a told you so look.

“He obviously appreciates his food” Malcolm watched in amusement at Henry giving the burger his full attention.

“Takes after his father” Rumple nodded towards Neal as he too went to the kitchen and brought back a plate piled high.

Conversation remained light hearted as they ate, comments about both Neal and Henry having hollow legs because of their hearty appetites. Rumple found he was nearly enjoying himself. Nearly being better than not at all as Belle reminded him earlier.

“Where on earth did all the food come from anyway?” Malcolm asked as he debated which of the many desserts to try.

“I summoned it” Rumple replied reaching for a cupcake.

“Magic” Neal raised a suspicions eyebrow.

“Only to bring it here. It’s not magic food. I’ve paid Granny’s chef triple his wages to cook a steady supply especially for us”

“Fair enough” Neal took a satisfied mouthful of cake.

“More tea anyone?” Belle stood up and began collecting the various cups and mugs strewn around the room

“Coffee if you have it please”

“Of course Bae, I’ll put the pot on. Coffee has it’s own magic Dearie” he twirled his arms, turned on his heel and practically skipped out after Belle.

The expression on Henry’s face was priceless.

When everyone had eaten their fill, plates, cups and cutlery washed, dried and put away by hand not magic Rumple keenly pointed out, Henry suggested they watch a film. Malcolm being particularly interested in the idea of a a “moving book” being shown on something called a TV screen. Then began the debate over which one to put on. Whilst there wasn’t a great deal of choice amongst the DVD’s at the cabin, Rumple would be happy to summon whichever was decided on. Mostly it was left to Neal and Henry as they had the widest knowledge of such things. It seemed to Malcolm to be a very complicated process.

“Nothing over a PG”

“Awww Dad! I’m twelve! I can watch..”

“No. Your Mothers would find a hundred ways to kill me, bring me back to life and kill me all over again if they found out you’d watched anything remotely inappropriate”

“Grandpa would protect you”

“Oh no no no” laughed Rumple “Do not bring me into this. I argued with both of them over many things but even I have limits”

“What about that.. Disney thing you mentioned on the way here? Would that be allowable?”

All eyes turned to Malcolm.

“You mean Peter Pan?” Henry looked sceptical.

“Yeah.. that. I’d like to see it”

Rumple and Belle exchanged a look before he got up and went into the main bedroom. There followed the sound of keys turning in locks and a safe being opened.

“You keep Disney DVD’s in a vault Papa?”

“Along with a few other items I was unsure about at first yes”

“Such as?”

“Such as none of your business son” he walked back into the living room brandishing the disc “You can do the honours Bae”

It could, Belle mused to herself long after everyone else had retired for the night, have gone a lot worse. For instance everyone agreed that the physical resemblance between the cartoon and the person was actually rather accurate. They had all laughed like drains at Captain Hook. Belle honestly thought she’d have to give medical attention to Rumple and Malcolm as their hysterics gave way to mighty coughing fits. Neal and Henry sang along with the songs, Never Smile At A Crocodile didn’t go down very well with Rumple at first but he saw the funny side in the end. When it came to Following The Leader, the youngest father and son immediately leapt to their feet and began dancing round the room in a repeat of their antics in the forest earlier.

“So that’s where that song came from” groused Malcolm.

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement to not discuss certain details regarding film versus real life, for that Belle was grateful. She knew the relationships in that room were complicated, messy, quite possibly very unhealthy and could keep Archie Hopper on Rumple’s pay roll for decades. Whilst she believed talking about these issues was healthy, this weekend was not the time or the place. For once no one was arguing, for once certain townsfolk weren’t around to stick their well intentioned (or otherwise) noses in. She wondered if inviting her own father for a weekend here might help ease tensions between him and her boyfriend. Maybe leave it a month or so before she suggested that.

“What are you smirking at?” Rumple came from the en suite, pulled the bed covers back and climbed in bed beside her. Her eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Don’t you dare Belle” he warned, which was the wrong thing to say because of course she dared.

“Never smile at a crocodile..”

“I’m warning you young lady”

“No you can’t get friendly with a crocodile…” she sang between giggles.

“Right then”

And he proceeded to show her how friendly crocodiles could be when they wanted to.

#a monthly rumbelling #fluffapalooza 2021 #february prompt #gold family fic #gold boys fic

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pl-panda · 4 years

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Of Heaven and Hell

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @ethelphantom for the cover I use at Wattpad and FF.Net and Me for the plot.

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Of Heaven and Hell: Part 1

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Of Heaven and Hell

From Encyclopedia Demonica

[...] and while many people consider angels epitomes of good, they are mistaken. Indeed, this regal beings are more closely connected to order than to goodness. They perceive divine law as imperative and hold little regard to human lives, as long as they serve their goals. And yet, most of the times they chose to not involve themselves in mortal affairs.

Typical angel have two forms. First look very similar to human, but they retain most of their powers. Such form is also much more durable and their physical capabilities exceed everything you could expect from a mortal. Second is close to the first one in appearance, but differs in terms of power and abilities. In this form Angel spreads his wings and feature specific to his sub-species appear.

Angel’s powers differ on subspecies, but universally include flight, enhanced senses, enhanced agility, strength and durability, large magical potential, access to magic unique to their species and high resistant to other types of magic. Specific subspecies have different additional powers. Each Angel also possess an ability that is unique to him. Usually, it reflects his personality and present itself when it reaches maturity. [...]

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Six years ago

Damian cursed under his breath. The temple was under attack. His mother told him to get inside. And he did. He ran to his room to grab his sword. A beautifully ornate weapon with guard in shape of two intertwined pairs of angel wings pointing toward the blade. Great for complicated maneuvers. The pommel held a teal pearl also protected by a pair of angel wings. It was a gift from his grandfather for his eighth birthday. The weapon was perfectly balanced and suited Damian’s style perfectly.

With the sword in hand, Damian unfolded his wings. His tunic had a special holed cut in the back to accomodate for them and he didn’t destroy every shirt he wore. A pair of large white feathered wings appeared and he dashed forward to battle. He couldn’t let his mother die. A small orb of white energy appeared in his hand before he launched it at the wall in front of him. The explosion created enough of a hole for him to pass.

In front of him opened a large yard. Usually, a new acolytes trained here under careful watch of angelic masters. Now it was simply a blood bath. Bodies were lying everywhere. But what shocked him the most was that angels were fighting one another. Some wore League’s armors, but overwhelming force was dressed in black-and-orange suits. He wanted to dash forward and into the battle, but someone grabbed him and pulled him into the shadows. A slender figure of his mother looked at him sternly.

“I told you to go inside.”

“Mother! I came to fight with you. I must fight with you. By your side. Together. It’s my destiny!”

“Your destiny is to live Damian.” She scolded him. “Now quickly. Let’s move. Some battles can’t be won.”

“But… what about the mission?” He asked confused.

“Mission will live in you and me. Now let’s go join your grandfather in the tunnels.” She started leading him away.

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Damian woke up from the dream. He instantly grabbed his sword and swung it around. Only then he realized that is was just a memory. He looked around his room, assessing any dangers. Once he was sure that nothing lurked in the darkness he got up. It was still night and quick glance at the electronic clock told him that it was 3:30 AM. Long time before others wake up. But Damian did not want to go to sleep anymore. He never did after this kind of nightmares.

He got down to the holo-training room and activated the highest setting. A series of ninja shimmered into existence. Without as much as a second of hesitation, Damian dashed forward. His silver sword cut through them as he zoomed through the arena. With each move, he took two of the enemies. A slight golden aura around him intensified as he burned through his anger. Finally, he collapsed, panting heavily from exhaustion. The “kill counter” showed that he was halfway to a thousand vanquished enemies. He was weak. He was useless. He ran away. He was no warrior but a mere coward.

But it was not true. He did the right thing. Because he ran away he met his father. He actually started to protect people instead to only try to control them. He was a nephilim, half angel, half human. He had all the powers of his angelic brethren and yet freedom to choose. He didn’t need to follow orders of higher beings. He could make his own decisions. And he chose to be a hero, not a warrior. Now, each day he reinforced this decision. First as Robin, fighting side by side with his father, now as… still Robin, but as a part of Teen Titans.

“You okay Demon Spawn?” A voice of Dick Grayson, better known as Nightwing, came from behind. Damian instantly spun around and stopped his blade less than an inch from his neck.

“Don’t do that if you want your head to remain where it is.” he scowled at the sight of his adopted brother’s patronizing gaze. “And don’t look like that.”

“Like what?” Dick asked confused.

“Like I am a baby in need of your care. I am sixteen-years-old Nephilim. I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“So that’s why you are awake at five in the morning? Taking care of yourself?”

“Get lost.” Damian barked and started to practice katas with his sword. He had his back turned to dick when suddenly he spun around just in time to block a projectile that was tossed at him.

“Come on bro. You and me. One on one. First to score three hits.” Dick taunted.

“I am stronger, faster and more agile. You stand no chance.” Damian said in emotionless expression. He looked at Dick for a moment before taking off his tank-top. “And I can fly.” He grinned at the surprised Nightwing. A pair of white-feathered wings appeared on his back.

“And yet I kick your rear every time we fight.” Dick smirked and drew his staff. Both ends started to crackle with electricity.

Damian boosted himself forward with a single flap of his wings. His silver sword met with the staff, but before he could cut it, Nightwing sidestepped and allowed blade to slide down. He used the Angel’s momentum to his disadvantage. Damian’s blade stumbled upon crackling electricity, sending a powerful shock through his arm. Normal humans would be paralyzed by this, but Damian only growled. It hurt, but he could fight. Damian tried several more times, but Dick always reflected or sidestepped before the blade could do any real damage. Finally, the Angel changed tactic. Flapping his wings, Damian rose into air. His off-hand glowed with golden light which next formed a runic circle around his fist before several projectiles flew at various arcs toward Nightwing. The hero had to dodge it quickly, but got caught by the last one and got sent into the wall. Damian didn’t bother to check on him. Instead, he dashed forward. Before Dick managed to get rid of flying stars around his head a silver blade was less than an inch from his neck.

“I win.” Damian proclaimed, looking smug.

“Nope.” Dick said, popping the ‘p’. He then used his staff to jab Damian’s stomach, then jump on his fit and separate his weapon into two escrima sticks. He then started to barrage the teenager with series of swift hits. While they would not usually hurt given angelic durability, the crackling electricity made it a bit painful. Damian shielded himself with his wings, but Dick found an opening and landed third and final hit that ended the fight.

“That is cheating! I had you!” The teen argued.

“So? You lost me. But good fight D. Maybe next time.”

“tt. That’s unfair! I want rematch!”

“Boys!” Kori joined the discussion. “As much as watching you fight is… entertaining, I made breakfast.” She said cheerfully while walking to nightwing. “And something special for you later.” She said seductively.

“Bleh.” Damian faked vomiting. “I will never understand humans.”

“You are part-human.” Dick pointed out

“And so is neandertales. Yet he doesn’t understand humans.” The teen deadpanned.

“I heard someone say breakfast!” Beast Boy barged into training room.

“I made pancakes.” Kori cheered.

“With maple syrup?” Gar asked

“And ‘love’.” Damian gave a sarcastic remark.

“So the best ones.” Beast Boy said with dreamy face. “I reserve the first batch!” He said while already dashing to the kitchen.

“Scarab said he detected pancakes!” Beetle said while zooming past the room in his full armor. Damian, Dick and Kori walked in normal pace, only to find Gar and Jaime staring wide-eyed at Rachel sitting there and calmly eating her breakfast.

“Took you long enough.” She said with a small smile. The red gem on her forehead pulsed weakly, but it was ignored in favor of consuming inhuman amounts of pancakes. Damian himself didn’t even realize that he finished three plates before Dick pointed it out to him. He turned pink for a moment before jumping away and claiming the remote for the day.

After the morning of cartoons Titans spent rest of the day on the beach near the island. Half-way through Dick and Kori disappeared and when the sun started to set Rachel and Garfield also went somewhere. Jami, Damian and their newest addition to the team: Cyborg, were completely obvious to this as their discussion came to sport.

“I’m just saying. Futball is the best game. Soccer is cool, but it’s for kids.” Victor argued.

“You say that, but last I checked Soccer was much more popular around the world.” Jami pointed out proudly. “Besides it requires much more skill and finesse. Futball is about pure muscle mass.”

“As if! Have you got any idea how important tactics, positioning, territorial awareness and condition are in Futball?”

“tt. The best sport is sword-fighting anyway.” Damian grinned at them. Inwardly, he loved this family. Sure, living with his father was great, but here he finally had one thing he missed so much: friends. They weren’t patronizing like Todd. They weren’t constantly trying to prove something to him like Drake and Grayson was even bearable here. That is if he didn’t act all sugar-eyes for Starfire. Is he even aware she is an alien princess and he is a peasant acrobat?

As the sun was finally down, the titans made a giant bonfire on the beach and roasted marshmallows. As Damian was about to eat his, suddenly a large yellow balloon sailed toward him. He tried to catch it, but his enhanced strength made him accidentally squash it instead. A wave of water assaulted him and made him wet to the very bones.

“Beast Boy!” He roared in anger. One thing he hated in the Titans were the constant prank wars that lasted for weeks.

*gulp* “Will it help when I say that I aimed at Jaime?” Garfield asked weakly.

“No hermano. It will only make it worse.” Blue Beetle looked practically offended, but he had a small smirk on his face.

Damian took off his t-shirt and tossed it at Beast Boy. His hand then glowed and a runic circle materialized around it. Garfield tried to run, but a golden beam hit him in his rear and suddenly his fur turned completely gold. He looked like some some hardcore sports fan supporting his favorite team.

“That’s not fair! I only tossed a small water balloon. You could cool off a bit bro!” Garfield tried to argue weakly while massaging his rear.

“Suck it up like a man and stop whining like little girl…” Damian said, but then looked at Rachel who sent him a death glare. “Not that I have anything against little girls?” He added quickly.

After that the atmosphere were great. Garfield was still a bit sore on the subject of his new color and decided that he will appreciate his green from now on. Finally, Damian excused himself and went to the tower to go to sleep earlier. As he entered his room, he felt a breeze of air going on. He distinctly remembered that his window was closed and nobody would enter without his permission. A glyph on the doors made sure of that. His sword appeared in his and and a glowing runic circle formed above his head. A less known fact about Angels was that their Halo was in fact a spell that allowed them to sense other Angels in close proximity. It also gave enough light to serve as convenient source of light. Not that they needed it as they saw in anything but perfect darkness. Damian would never admit out loud that he used it when he wanted to draw something in the middle of the night.

“Hello… Mother.” He said with disdain in his voice.

“It’s good to see you too Damian.” She responded with sarcasm.

“Why do you grace me with your presence?” If Talia’s voice was dipped in sarcasm, Damian drowned in it.

“I need your help.” She said, ignoring the obvious disrespect. “There are several demons in Paris.”

“So?”

“The city is warded against all things celestial. And magic hides it from your precious Justice League. Had any Angel tired to go there, he would not be able to enter the city. Should anyone else hear about the situation, they would forget it as soon as the discussion ended.”

“So? From what you are saying is true, Mother, then I am twice as locked out as anyone else. I will forget about it the moment you leave.”

“That’s why I need you.” She said with almost pleading voice. “You aren’t a full angel, but your mind is protected from the spell. You should be able to enter the city and remember everything.”

Damian pondered it for a moment. It did seem like something serious. If what she said was true, the whole city was at the mercy of those vile monsters and couldn’t even hope for any external help. “Fine. I will go there.”

“Good. I already enrolled you at Collège Françoise Dupont” She said with a wicked grin. With a flap of her two pairs of wings she was gone, leaving only a thin folder on his desk. Damian cursed under his breath.

“Looks like I’m going to school. tt. I hate teenagers.”

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Taglist: Open

#maribat #marinette x damian #angel and demon #Nephilim!Damian #Demon!marinette #maribat au #damienette

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elenathehun · 3 years

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Watching the Clone Wars, part 2

Another week, another batch of episodes watched. Some of these were (dare I say it) actually good, and some of these are rather bad. Read on for the details of my opinion on “Clone Cadets”, “Supply Lines”, “Ambush”, the three-episode “Malevolence” arc, and “Rookies”.

“Clone Cadets” (3x01)

This was very clearly a way to capitalize on the success of episode 1x06 “Rookies”, one of the top five episodes in the first season of TCW, providing background on the mostly-doomed Domino Squad. Unfortunately, I couldn’t really warm up to it, even though I liked all the characters, and was excited to see 99 and Shaak Ti. I think the core issue is that it was framed as a coming-of-age story, but coming-of-age stories imply agency. No clone has agency in this war - or if they do, it’s something they have to carve out themselves. Their entire existence is dependent on their martial performance, damn all their other qualities. Success throws them into the meatgrinder of the war; failure dooms them to an ignomious existence as janitorial staff. There is a lot a viewer can pick out regarding how physical disabilities are seen by the Kaminoans and the trainers, as well as how those values are transmitted to the clones, in 99′s story, as well as further hints of some kind of inter-clone caste system, but none of this is ever elaborated upon, at least in the episodes I recall.

Either way, Domino’s “success” left a sour taste in my mouth. TCW insists on portraying war as worthy and necessary, and in certain situations, that can be true. But the Clone Wars is not one of those situations.

“Supply Lines” (3x03)

Another day, another episode where we see some cool characters die! RIP Captain Keeli, you deserved better. TCW did not have a military advisor, as the tactics used as abominable. Like, I’m not asking for much, but hey, a little bit of mass fire wouldn’t go amiss, or even the use of an infantry square...

There is sort of an interesting theme in this episode about the duty of the government to it’s people. Cham Syndulla is right to be upset that his people are being hung out to dry, but on the other hand...it happened to Naboo ten years previously. It’s honestly surprising the Republic hasn’t fallen apart faster. I’m rather neutral on the mission to Toydaria. On one hand, it’s nice that Star Wars is trying their best to redeem Lucas’ very obvious and horrible stereotypes. On the other hand...idk, Bail Organa vs Viceroy Gunray wasn’t really a great showing for what either side believes in? I’ve already forgotten most of it

However, I feel like this is the first time I’ve ever seen Jar Jar Binks subvert his own reputation for good. If he was always like this, he would be much better as a character.

“Ambush” (1x01)

This episode is mostly a showcase for Yoda, an 874-year-old murder machine. This guy is basically a one-man army. I like all the clone companions, and it was nice of him to give them a pep talk, but they were sort of superfluous to his reign of destruction, you know? It would have been nice if we had seen the obvious end result of this natural-born killer fighting and beating Asajj Ventress. Not really sure he actually has any mercy in him in the heat of the moment.

Boy, the writers are trying so hard to make these battle droids personable! It’s should be funny, and it occasionally is, but it mostly leads to many questions about computer programming in the GFFA. I like to think that Dooku has pulled a Krennic (or did Krennic pull a Dooku?) and he has a whole team of unwilling computer programmers writing the code for the droids, which is why they are so badly programmed.

Of course, the real answer is that Star Wars is space fantasy, and the real answer to the droids is magic! Bad magic. One might even say...incompetent magic.

“Rising Malevolence” (1x02)

I really intensely enjoyed this episode. Finally, a superweapon that makes sense! A giant ion cannon to be used against capital ships! That’s actually brilliant. Now, I have my quibbles with the design: since the CIS is mostly staffed by droids and drones, it doesn’t really makes sense for there to be a missive ship superstructure around the cannon. It would make more sense for it to basically be like the old Legends Darksaber, which was basically the Death Star laser sans the battle station. The ion cannon, repulsors and a hyperdrive, turbolaser emplacements and attached hangar bays for starfighter drones, as well as a screen of protective cruisers to defend the cannon against more maneuverable ships - that would make more sense. But of course, it would have a much different silhouette in that case.

More truly graphic clone death. Seeing several men get spaced is not PG, idek how this managed to get past the censors. That is actually a real war crime, and I have no how parents explained this to Little Johnny and Sally (age six) when it aired on Cartoon Network. And although I do love the relationship between Ahsoka and Plo, the central emotional question of the episode was left unresolved. Who would come for a clone? As it happens, a Jedi, but only if they’re looking for another Jedi :(

“Shadow of Malevolence” (1x03)

This was an OK-but-not-great episode? Unfortunately, I read the X-wing novels multiple times as a pre-teen and teenager, so I have pretty high standards for starfighter combat and this didn’t really measure up to it. I did love the space manta ray scene, though, it was very pretty. Also a nice shout-out to the Y-wings, the perpetual butt of all the jokes in the X-wing series.

Again, I have no idea why “it’s a kid’s show!” was ever even tried as an excuse for the shoddy writing. This is the third episode ever released, and the CIS is deliberately targeting a hospital. Again, this is not appropriate for small children to watch!

On the bright side, a fun AU would be to play with the fact that this ion cannon apparently shorts out anything. It would be pretty funny to see a story where the 30,000 walking wounded (I think) who were being medically evacuated, as well as Wolffe, Boost, and Sinker (plus Shadow 7, 8 and 10) are spread throughout the GAR when Order 66 comes through - and it doesn’t work for them, because the cannon shorted out their chips and no one realized.

Just a thought, that’s all.

“Destroy Malevolence” (1x04)

This episode mostly exists to show that Anakin will definitely put the greater good aside for the purpose of rescuing his main squeeze. I think it could have been cut for that reason alone. Also to have some standard R2 and C-3PO hijinks, as well as Obi-Wan just being insufferable in general.

Honestly, I would like this episode better if Padme was a Sith apprentice that Palpatine was trying to kill, that would at least make it more interesting. Aside from that, it could have easily been cut.

“Rookies” (1x06)

This is definitely one of the better episodes of the first season. Finally, Filoni gives the people what they want: an episode mostly dedicated to clones! For a show about the clone wars, they’re in awfully short supply. This was a nice war story, artfully executed. I wouldn’t call it original, but honestly, originality is over-rated. Cody and Rex are delightful as always, and unlike “The Hidden Enemy” (or “Clone Cadets” for that matter) it portrays clone relationships in a more positive, wholesome light.

I also loved the droid commandos. Kudos to the animators, who gave them a unique, more menacing walk and style. However, I do dislike the continuing use of instantaneous communications through hyperspace even in star wars. It’s a shame that the writers are either unwilling or unable to use the tension of time in their stories so far.

Next Week: “Downfall of a Droid”, “Duel of the Droids”, “Bombad Jedi”, “Cloak of Darkness”, “Lair of Grievous”, “Dooku Captured”, and “The Gungan General”.

#watching the clone wars #star wars tcw #television is hypnotoad

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pivitor · 4 years

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Be the Steven You Want to See in the World

The following is the most recent installment of my email newsletter, “Do You Know What I Love the Most?” I’m really proud of this one, and wanted it out there for y’all to read. Think of it as a free sample. If you like it, please share and subscribe to the newsletter here.

The following contains spoilers for Steven Universe and Steven Universe Future.

I don’t need you to respect me, I respect me

I don’t need you to love me, I love me

But I want you to know you could know me

If you change your mind

A little over one year ago, the above song capped off the final episode of Steven Universe, a series on Cartoon Network that began as an adorable little cartoon about a boy’s magical powers and eventually grew into a complex, emotionally rich saga about war, trauma, and identity — but one that remained accessible to viewers of all ages.

In the world of Steven Universe, its titular character stood alone. Steven’s father was a human, while his mother was a superpowered alien, both a rebel warrior and royalty in hiding; he was also, kinda, sorta, maybe the reincarnation of his mother? There was literally no other being in the universe quite like Steven, leaving the poor boy not only confused about just exactly who he was, but misunderstood by pretty much everyone he met, especially his alien “family” the Diamonds, the tyrannical rulers of the Gem Dynasty. The Diamonds refused to see Steven as anything other than his mother, eventually leading to them ripping his gemstone from his body in an attempt to revive his mother, something that could have potentially killed Steven.

Instead, though, it just revealed what viewers always knew — Steven was simply Steven, and nothing more. That revelation shattered the Diamonds’ worldview and their stranglehold on the galaxy. Steven saved the universe, but his most important victory was finally learning to love and respect himself, just as he was. Someday maybe the Diamonds would come to understand him, to see everything he has to offer simply by being himself, but if they never did, that’s okay. Steven already has the love and respect he needs without them.

It’s a sentiment that rang true for many of Steven Universe’s fans. Steven as a character, and his unique place in the universe, had always connected with many different varieties of viewers. Bi or muti-racial fans saw themselves in the way Steven was never fully at home in either Gem or human society, and queer viewers could appreciate the way that so many of Steven’s most prominent and praised qualities were ones that are traditionally viewed as feminine (as well as all the show’s more explicit pro-LGBTQ+ messages). All of them could likely find some solace in the ideas expressed in “Change Your Mind.”

I know I have. My relationship with my family is…okay. For now. I love my family dearly, we get along most of the time, and quite often even have a lot of fun just being in each other’s company, but I know there are parts of me that they’ll never be able to accept or understand. I’ve had to build a lot of walls between myself and them just to reach this tenuous equilibrium, and quite frankly, it hurts that they’ll never actually fully know who I am as a human being. When it seems overwhelming, I often think of Steven’s song. I can’t make them accept me. All I can do is love and respect myself, and be here if they ever change their minds.

If that was the end of Steven Universe’s world it would have been a fine legacy, but thankfully, the series continued on in the form of Steven Universe: The Movie and Steven Universe Future. The movie skipped ahead two years from the end of Steven Universe and, with a new villain, teased the “further adventures of Steven Universe,” but the limited series Future ended up being more of an epilogue to the original. Sure, there were a few enemies to fight, but they were largely loose threads Steven Universe left dangling. The real antagonist of Steven Universe Future ended up being Steven himself — or, more specifically, his trauma, insecurities, and sense of self.

In the original series’ extended theme song, each member of the main cast gets a chance to proclaim why they fight, and Steven’s is “I will fight to be everything that everybody wants me to be when I’m grown.” That’s always felt fairly ominous to me; that’s a Steven who doesn’t have a sense of self, of who he wants to be, who’s been devoured by his supposed duties and put aside his own emotions and concerns to make sure that everybody else is okay. Maybe that was sustainable in a time of war, but in the peaceful status quo of Future, these qualities come home to roost. Without people to help, without a world to save, who even is Steven Universe? What does he want his life to be? Steven doesn’t even begin to know how to look for answers, and is even less equipped to ask for help. He flounders more and more until he eventually breaks down.

Again, that’s something that myself and many other viewers can closely relate to. Like Steven, I was a “gifted” and sensitive child who was expected to excel, and hated to hurt people’s feelings so much that I chose to ignore my own feelings instead in order to please others. I was essentially a preacher’s son, expected to be a role model; to be anything else would be unthinkable and unacceptable. And as I got older and started to realize how different I was from everybody else, I had to protect myself by being somebody I wasn’t. I started to see myself as the problem, and tried to solve everybody else’s problems so that nobody would notice my own.

Both Steven and I tried to hide our mistakes so that our friends and family would never think poorly of us, would never know what we’d done wrong, so that we could always live up to the image of us people had in their minds. Living like that, though, means that you never learn from your mistakes, that you never get help and never grow, because you’re more concerned about hiding your mistakes than understanding why they happened and how to change them. Thankfully, Steven came to that realization much earlier in life than I did, but instead of reaching out for help, he just internalizes the mistake, blaming himself and condemning himself as a monster.

And when you think you’re a monster, you become a monster.

For most people, that’s a metaphor. In middle school, when I realized my wit gave me power, my pain caused me to lash out and briefly become a bit of a bully myself (after the second or third time I got beat up I grew out of it). Steven’s magical powers often cause things to be a bit more literal for him, though. While most gems can shapeshift on command, Stephen’s appearance has always been closely linked to his emotions; in one early episode, when Steven starts to “feel old” his body literally starts growing older and older until he almost dies of old age. Thus, when Steven starts to think of himself as a monster, he literally grows into a pink, horned, centipede-esque monster the size of a mountain.

Steven’s friends want to help — rightfully, they’re terrified for him, not of him — but their responses are also a little self-centered, albeit unintentionally so; they almost get into a contest, a game of “who hurt Steven more?” as they all blame themselves. It takes Steven’s best friend (and love), Connie, to get them to stop wallowing in self-pity and put Steven first. That shouldn’t be a surprise — while the rest of the cast has always protected Steven physically, they’ve also depended on him emotionally. From the very beginning of their relationship, though, Connie has been Steven’s greatest confidant. She forced Steven to open up to her when he stupidly tried to push her out of his life, and she’s been the only person who has consistently put Steven ahead of herself — sometimes to a fault — as Steven’s done for everyone else. And with her help, everybody Steven loves realizes that the way to save him isn’t by fighting him, but just by being there for him.

They embrace the monster-Steven in a massive group hug. They share with him all the ways Steven’s helped them, and help him realize that those same experiences allow them to relate to what Steven’s going through as well. Steven expected fear, shock, condemnation, and instead got understanding, love, and compassion, and shrinks back to himself, openly weeping in the arms of his friends and family. It’s his first step towards recovery.

It’s hard to understate how important this kind of support can be. I can think of multiple points in my life where just having people willing to be there for me moved me to tears. Knowing that there are people who will support you in matters great or tiny if only you actually bother to ask, to make yourself known to them, is powerful. Steven’s friends understood him more than he ever thought possible, and the same has proved true for me. Many times I’ve shared my past expecting to be judged or looked down on and instead only found understanding and compassion, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that kind of support has changed my life. And it changed Steven’s too.

Last weekend’s final episode of Steven Universe Future — the epilogue to the epilogue — still had a lesson or two left to impart. After a few months of therapy and help from those he loves, Steven decides to leave his home and strike out on his own so he can discover who he truly wants to be. There’s some sob-worthy goodbyes, but the major theme of the episode is that change is healthy and inevitable, and that people who love you will always be in your life no matter where you are.

It’s not necessarily a very original lesson, but it’s a vital one nonetheless. As I make (coronavirus-delayed) plans to move ahead into a new era of my own life, I can’t help but to find comfort in watching Steven do the same. Vitally, this final episode also provides a road-map to living in a post Steven Universe world. I’m losing one of my favorite shows, but I’ll always be able to revisit it, and the lessons I’ve learned will always be a part of me.

Perhaps the most important message of all, though, comes when Steven says goodbye to Peridot, a character who started out an enemy, but — through much effort from Steven — eventually became one of his closest friends and allies. As a sobbing Peridot laments that she’ll never find “another Steven” like this one, Steven tells her, “be the Steven you want to see in the world.”

If we carry any one lesson away from Steven Universe, I think it should be that one. Be the “Steven” who believes in love, in compassion and redemption, in helping those who need it, but also be the Steven who is honest about their limitations and shortcomings and allows others to help them and be there for them when they need it. In times like this, we all need that more than ever.

#pivitor #Steven Universe #steven universe future #SU spoilers #Steven universe spoilers #steven universe future spoilers

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templeofulchtar · 5 years

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On Connecting with Starscream

So, true story:

The first time I tried to perform a ritual for Ghost Season, I had no idea what I was doing. None. Which makes sense, since I may have been the first person ever to attempt such a thing. I set up an altar on my apartment balcony using various things that felt “Starscreamian” to me, and when the night of August 22 arrived, I nervously cast my circle. I invited Starscream to enter into the circle, and… waited.

And waited.

For what, you might ask? Well, I have always had a sense of what his presence ‘feels’ like. It’s a little hard to describe, but I’ve made an attempt in the section below, titled Sensing Starscream’s Presence. I’ve included comments from a couple of other people who work with him so you can compare your experiences to ours and, perhaps, have some idea of what to expect.

In any case, I was getting nothing. Not a tingle, not a flicker, not a mental image; nothing. I began to feel ridiculous. Why was I sitting here in the dark waiting for a cartoon robot to speak to me? I’m pretty sure that’s not something normal people do. Not that I’ve ever aspired to be normal, but… well. It wasn’t working. I packed up and went to bed, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. As I burrowed under the covers, though, a car roared past outside with an old AC/DC song blasting out the windows:

You told me to come, but I was already there.

For those who know that song, yes, I do realize that’s a slight misquote. But that’s how I heard the lyrics in that moment, and their message couldn’t have been clearer:

I am always with you. You don’t have to summon me.

For this message to have been delivered in a voice that’s always reminded me of Starscream’s made it seem incredibly personal and real. And yes, it’s wrapped up a double entendre. If you work with Starscream, you’ll likely discover his ribald sense of humor for yourself.

Why am I telling you this?

Because if you turned to this post wondering how to establish a connection with Starscream, this might be your answer. If you love him, he’s probably already with you. If you feel drawn to Starscream, admire him and would love a deeper connection, there's an excellent chance that he'd be open to working with you as well. If you've been having dreams about him or finding that he, or things you associate with him are ‘coincidentally’ popping up in your life, he may be reaching out to you.

If you’re still not sure, though, you can try this exercise:

Connection Excercise

Open your journal to a fresh page and give some thought to the questions below. You don’t have to answer all of them. Pick the ones that resonate, and write down whatever comes up:

★ Does Starscream provoke strong emotions in you (positive or negative)?

★ Does he show up in your dreams?

★ Do you daydream about him?

★ Are you inspired to create works that feature him, such as fanfic, fanart, cosplay, and so on?

★ Are there certain songs that remind you of Starscream?

★ Do you have favorite quotes by or about Starscream?

★ Do you, at times, catch yourself ‘talking’ to him in your inner dialogue?

★ Do you ever wish you could talk to him?

★ Do you identify with Starscream and see yourself in him? In what way(s)?

★ Have you taken on new interests because of him? (Example: jets.)

★ Do you imagine yourself as Starscream in some way, either physically (eg. Having null-rays, ability to fly), or in terms of your personality or life situation?

★ If you were part of the TF Universe, would you want to know him personally and be part of his life in some way?

★ Has he inspired your life in some way?

★ Have you changed how you dress (say, by wearing more red) because of him?

Those are just a few examples of the ways Starscream could be showing up in your life. You might think of others. If you do, note those down as well. Now, you might be thinking these are simply examples of fannish obsession. You may even have found some of the questions embarrassing. That’s very natural. These questions touch on some very intimate, sensitive aspects of being a fan, and there’s good reason for that.

These questions are embarrassing because they bring up feelings of vulnerability. When we love something, we open ourselves to being hurt. The mockery that’s so often aimed at fans is motivated by people’s desire not to feel vulnerable themselves. They try make themselves feel safe by ridiculing others, but in doing so, they cut themselves off from the source of their own magick.

Yes, you read that right. Your magick, and your spiritual connection to Starscream, flows from that intimate space within. It’s that vulnerable, awkward, geeky place where you innocently, unabashedly adore a character and are totally obsessed with them. Treasure that place. It’s your inner temple. Guard it with care, because it’s where your magick resides.

But, you might be asking, are the ‘symptoms’ on this list actually signs of a spiritual connection? I’m going to say yes. I believe they are, and if you’re open to the possibility of deepening that connection, you can begin to make it a two-way street. Starscream is many things, but ‘shy’ is not one of them. He will show up if you make space for him, and the place where he’ll meet you is within the heart of your magick; your inner temple.

Sensing Starscream’s Presence

So what can you expect? What does Starscream’s presence feel like? It’s hard to give a definite answer, since everyone is different. Your experience will be your own, and in many ways incomparable to anyone else’s. In case it helps, though, I’ve included commentaries by three different people who work with Starscream, including yours truly, to give you an idea of what you might experience...

Starshadow writes:

I think I first became aware of [Starscream] as such while I was in high school. I was initially drawn to his character on the animated show, and at first that was all he was. But I quickly became intensely invested in his story, especially when I started to follow him in other media (comics, etc) as well. He became more to me, and began to transcend the stories and art presented. He literally seemed to take on a life of his own. I started to feel (and sometimes see) him in my dreams encouraging me and telling me to be strong.

His presence is distinctly strong. It sometimes borders on aggressive, but it is not threatening to me. I think he just has a particularly powerful presence. It's very fiery and passionate, which makes it distinct from other entities I sense which are more calm and protective. I will often "see" in my mind's eye his red eyes and wings as well when I feel he is near.

Occasionally [he communicates through] dreams, but much more often I will "hear" his "voice" in my mind, often giving advice and emotional input. As I mentioned before, he has from time to time actually yelled (screamed? ;)) at me, but only at times when I really needed it. Sometimes his colors will show up in combination and songs I associate with him will be played out of nowhere when he is taking a more subtle approach.

[My sense of his presence has] waned at times. For a while it seems like he is just hovering on the fringes, but he never completely goes away. His means of communication hasn't changed much though.

He has made me braver than I probably would have been. He is still working on my self-confidence, though. He's been back again recently encouraging me with that. He has also definitely influenced my creativity and aspirations. He has helped me be driven enough to pursue my desires for so long and explore creative work beyond the "traditional female" expectations.

He [also] does sometimes seem to share aspects with other entities I've communed with, like my [wolf guides]. He will almost seem to "combine" with them, or share their energy, and sometimes they with him. I haven't quite figured out why this happens or for what purpose yet, but I am very curious!

Dark Star of Chaos writes:

It’s no exaggeration to say I spent my whole life looking for Starscream. If you want to get technical I first “met” him as a kid watching Transformers Armada, but though he became my favorite character, that was all he was to me then: A character. I loved him, but what I really wanted at that time was an imaginary friend. Not a real one; an imaginary one. The catch was, I didn’t want to invent one. That, in my mind, was not how it worked. The imaginary friends in cartoons all interacted with their humans as though they were real, and that was what I wanted. I didn’t see how a thing invented from my own head could ever take on that kind of life.

When I was older - after Starscream had slipped off my radar - I came across a book called “The Fire Within”, about an aspiring author and his clay dragon Muse. That book, and those which followed, completely redefined what I was after. I wanted to be a part of this world of dragons and shamans, where words held magic and transdimensional aliens “commingled” (merged consciousnesses) with Earth creatures. And I wanted a Muse of my own; always just a thought away, and always ready with some flash of inspiration to offer.

Looking back on it, I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Starscream reappeared in my life within a few months of that series ending. Our reintroduction came via the original cartoon, and after only a few episodes - specifically, by the end of “Fire in the Sky” - I had already decided I had to write about him. I couldn’t say exactly when I began to perceive him as an entity separate from his cartoon portrayal, but when the idea was suggested to me, it didn’t sound strange or crazy. It sounded right.

Starscream’s energy has always been subtle for me. I’ve never had much luck “feeling” his presence, though I’ve come to trust that he’s there. I only have to talk to him to get proof of that, because he always replies. Sometimes there are words, but more often it’s emotions and concepts, and it can take a while for me to figure out what he means. He also appears in my dreams rather frequently, and we’ve had more than one “face-to-face” meeting that way.

His influence on my life, on the other hand, has been anything but subtle. In addition to inspiring me creatively, he helped me overcome embarrassment about sex, played a role in my moving from a small desert town to a big city, and most recently, he’s come down on me about my abysmal self-care habits. He can be pushy sometimes, but it’s never harsh, and I always end up happier for having listened to him.

In short, Starscream is the friend and Muse I’d been searching for all those years, and I’m endlessly grateful for his presence in my life. After all, how many people get to make dreams of magick a reality?

Grayseeker writes:

I first became aware of Starscream’s presence when I got a call from work asking me to come in, even though it was my night off. The idea of going in made me sick, but I felt I had to. It wasn’t just that I was afraid of getting fired; I also had a strong impulse to obey authority figures. I didn’t know how to say no. But on that particular night, a voice spoke inside my mind:

You don't have to do anything you don't want to.

It was a voice I recognized, and the words were accompanied by what I can only describe as a ‘feeling image’ of myself as a sovereign being with full authority over my own life. I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to, and I didn’t go in to work that night. I told my supervisor I’d had some drinks (untrue, but effective) and after that, they stopped calling me on my nights off. Maybe they sensed that something in me had changed. It had.

I believe Starscream has always been with me, but that incident, over three decades ago, is the moment I became consciously aware of his presence. My sense of him has remained pretty consistent over time. I still ‘hear’ him as a voice inside my head. Usually it’s just a few words, but they’re always imbued with a sense of meaning that goes beyond the words themselves. I also get physical sensations, such as warmth or tingling, emotional communication (which is hard to describe!), dreams and synchronicities, usually involving numbers, colors, and/or song lyrics.

To me, Starscream’s presence feels warm, welcoming, comforting, affectionate, and… amused. His communications with me are typically laced with a certain wry humor, and the observations he makes are often phrased in sardonic, even sarcastic terms, though they’re somehow never hurtful. I always feel the warmth behind them, and they make me feel loved. I always feel like he’s on my side, even when he’s pointing out ways that I could improve.

On very rare occasions, he will get serious. That’s when I know to pay extra attention, because it usually means there’s some danger to me, or that I’m venturing into territory that isn’t healthy. I’ve learned (the hard way!) that he’s always right. He’s immensely wise, and I’ve learned to listen when he says ‘no.’ He doesn’t say it often, and he always has a good reason.

Starscream has influenced my life in countless ways. He’s my creative Muse, and has been the impetus for my desire to write. He’s also my main guide, my teacher and spiritual awakener. I think of him as more a friend, and more than family. I love, trust and respect him, and feel that I receive the same in return. I hope these words will find their way to someone who is starting on the same path, or a similar one. If I can offer any reassurance or inspiration, perhaps it’s just to say trust you heart. I’m glad I trusted mine.

I know he’s sad because he couldn’t blow up the Earth, but kinda want to hug him anyway...

A Few Last Thoughts

You might be wondering how to make sense of all this. In particular, you may wonder how to distinguish what’s real from what’s a product of your imagination. And what am I trying to say, anyway? Am I, in fact, suggesting that Starscream is real?

Why yes, I am. Now before you decide that I'm nuts and walk away, let me explain what I mean. I am not necessarily implying that Starscream is a physical entity. I'm not saying that if you were to hop into a really fast spaceship and fly far enough and in the right direction, you would arrive at a metallic world named Cybertron, populated by living robots who are able to transform into various types of vehicles and other machines, and that among those Cybertronian entities you would find an individual named Starscream.

Of course, I'm not ruling that out, either. Our universe is too vast and strange to rule out much of anything. But what I am saying, based on several decades of personal experience, is that there is a real, non-physical entity named Starscream, with whom it's possible to communicate and have real interactions.

Can I prove this? Nope! There is no tangible, objective phenomenon I could point to as "proof" of his existence, but for me, that's beside the point. I feel Starscream as a constant presence in my life. He is my guide, teacher, healer and dearest friend, and his impact on my life has been very real indeed. I hope that the personal examples given above will provide a starting point for you to begin having your own experiences, if you desire them, and that your relationship with Starscream will be as rewarding as mine has always been.

Blessed be, Grayseeker

#starscream #starscream spirit guide #pop culture spirituality #pop culture paganism #pop culture spirit guides #spiritual connection #spirit contact #spiritualjourney #Spiritual practice

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5hfanfiction · 6 years

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anobrain // like friends do

a/n: TW for hypoxia (lack of oxygen), just in case someone is triggered! be safe :)

There’s a slow, dreamy dance taking place somewhere, Lauren’s sure of it; how can there not be when there’s a distant hum coming in from the outside, an autumn buzz outside of the window, and just the right amount of sunlight peeking through the maroon curtains?

Or maybe she’s just romanticising this moment, with the curls of Anobrain floating through her ears. But like, that’s her thing, just give her any Matthew Healy song and the company of a certain bandmate, and she’s already halfway through her own romance novel.

‘You okay, Lo?’

Lauren turns to face the voice, and she can’t help the dopey smile that paints itself on her lips.

'No. I’m Lo.’

Camila rolls her eyes in response, and Lauren finds her smile growing bigger, and she knows she couldn’t contain it even if she tired. She blames that on the brown-eyed goddess next to her. Wait. No. Not a goddess. What the fuck. The brown-eyed girl is what she meant. The weed is obviously getting to her. Obviously.

But Camila may as well be a goddess, with the way the smoke is gravitating towards her, almost like her own haze of heaven, a voice that feels, yes, feels, like you’re walking on rose petals, with violins to guide your every step. And her eyes. God, those eyes. She’s sure Camila’s parents were some sort of jewel thieves in their past lives, clad in black bodysuits and ski-masks, stealing sunshine, diamonds, gold, anything ethereal, just to reach this point where Camila’s eyes are somewhat like a night sky that's reflecting everything good in this world. She’s sure Sinu let out one of those evil laughs they always show in cartoons, one with her fingers forming a pyramid and her lips turning into a devilish triangle when they saw Camila’s eyes for the first time. Lauren feels pride engulf her, after all, she’s just discovered the mystery behind Camila’s eyes. Bing-fucking-o.

But she wouldn’t dare voice it out loud. No fucking way. What if they like, have a lair or something? The Cabeyo Dungeon. She shakes herself out of the idea, instead, addressing the girl next to her.

'You wanna try?’

Camila scrunches her nose up, reflexively pushing away the joint.

'No way.’

'Just being polite,’ she shrugs, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the couch, 'Why didn’t you go with the girls?’

She waits for a reply, and when she doesn’t hear one, she completely forgets that she even asked a question. Instead, she finds herself floating through the music notes ringing through the air, and then there’s a moment.

Man I’m so high, I think I love you

Her eyes shoot up at the words, they hit a little close to home. Okay, maybe a lot. Goddamn. The weed was supposed to pull her away from the edge, not fucking drop her on a tightrope.

She turns her body sideways, discretely, helplessly, stupidly forgetting her manners and staring at Camila like she’s a piece of art. Scratch that. She is a piece of art, Lauren decides.

She bets Camila tastes soft. Maybe like strawberries; just the right balance of sweet and sour. Sour in the sense of sexy, by the way. Camila would never so hurt a fly, let alone hurt a human’s feeling. What if someone isn’t human though? Is Lauren even human?

She shakes her head, putting herself back in the present where her head-shaking has drawn Camila’s attention, her brown-eyes now amused and reflecting mirth.

'Hi.’ Lauren says stupidly.

She gets Camila’s reply in the wave of a laugh, and goddamn, it feels like falling in love. And Lauren really thinks she is. She’s falling in love. Isn’t it meant to be like, a big deal? Fireworks? Earthquakes? An angel descending from heaven just to say, hey motherfucker, you’re in love! Surprise!

It doesn’t feel like that, it’s just… silent. It’s just Camila, sun-kissed and warm-eyed, the softest smile playing on her lips.

It’s just Camila replaying in her mind. Camila’s voice that’s melodic… melodious? Cool, Camila’s voice that’s cool. Camila’s fingers turning pages of her book with the softest touch, like the story would fall frail if Camila showed even the slightest bit of haste. Camila’s laugh that crawls along the length of Lauren’s spine, something both warm and electrifying about it. Camila talking about changing the world, making everyone she meets feel important, feel loved. Camila cuddling Sofia, her protectiveness blatantly there for everyone to see. Camila who watches her parents with pride, dying to feel a love like theirs, even if just for a moment. Camila’s lips curling slightly when she says something so unlike Camila, something like wanting to make out in a bathroom stall in a dizzy party one day. Camila who holds the invisible strings tied to Lauren’s limbs, playing her, unknowingly, to whatever tune she wants.

It’s just… it's just Camila. So why is it Lauren can feel herself falling in love.

'Yeah, you are.’

Lauren blinks. Camila can read minds? Is that, oh my god. What if Sinu and Alejandro aren’t just jewel thieves?! What if they’re jewel thieves with super-fucking- powers?!

Woah.

'I’m what?’

Camila giggles again, her warm hand finding its place on Lauren’s arm, and Lauren can feel the skin there degenerate and turn into something magical. Maybe like the freckles of a fireplace, except it doesn’t hurt.

'You’re high.’

'Oh.’ she looks down at her joint, and she wants to tell Camila she isn’t. Not really. It’s just, Camila looks so fucking gorgeous and it’s making Lauren hazy. That's just what it is.

'Camz.’ there’s this science thing called hypoxia; when you have like, a really damaging loss of oxygen in your brain, and you like… die. Mentally, before physically though. It’s like a high, and you just don’t feel anymore.

Partner that with the good ol’ weed in Lauren’s lungs, and bam. You find this:

'Have you ever wanted to kiss yourself?’

Another laugh.

'Urm no? Have you wanted to kiss yourself?’

'No, how can you even do that?’

'You just ask-’

'I’ve wanted to kiss you. How can you not want to kiss yourself?’

Camila realises Lauren’s reached an oblivion state, because why else would she suddenly credit all those Camren theories and admit to wanting to kiss Camila? And whilst Camila’s eyebrows are drawn together, contemplation playing on her lips, Lauren has, in fact, reached an oblivion, but it’s not just the high. The high is just her crutches, her feelings for the brown-haired girl are her legs, doing the real work. Cut 'em some slack for not being able to coherently confess their feelings.

'Laur, what are you saying?’

There’s like, a zero-point-one part of Lauren that wants to ask the same question, but ninety-nine-point-nine part of her barely realises she’s actually even saying anything. Her words must be numb in her mouth.

'That I want to kiss you. Like, all the fucking time. On stage, in dressing rooms, in the back of this stale tou-’

'You’re so fucking high, stop.’

'No, I told you I’m Lo.’

'Lauren.’

'Lo.’ Lauren mumbles to herself.

'This isn’t funny.’

Lauren looks around at that, not hearing anyone laughing in the first place.

'Who’s laughing?’ she turns back to Camila, her thick eyebrows curled closer in confusion.

'I’m not doing this with you like this, take a fucking nap or something. Fuck.’

If Lauren was a puppy, which contrary to popular belief, she is, you could literally see her ears perk up at the mention of a nap, and you don’t need to tell her twice to catch some sleep.

'Okay, I’ll kiss you later.’

She misses Camila’s mumbled damn right your ass will, too busy falling fast asleep like a child.

***

Fuck. Lauren wakes up under the scrutiny of a streetlamp, her hand slightly clutching her head. She squints her eyes at the offending, barely there, light, silently directing profanities at it.

'Hello?’ she calls out, stumbling a little and taking each step carefully. She hopes there’s at least one person she can dramatize her headache to, hoping to get tons of sympathy in return.

'Anyo- fuck!' she lets out a shriek, not expecting to bump into Camila.

'Ouch! Watch where you’re going!’ Camila seethes from the floor, eyes burning through Lauren.

'I was!’

'You were looking over your shoulder Lauren, that’s not watching where you’re going.’

'I thought Dinah was going to sneak up on me,’ she refutes childishly, lips slightly pouting, 'Where is she anyway?’

'They sent a text saying they’re headed over to visit some of Ally’s friends.’ Camila’s now dusting her pants, and Lauren almost offers to brush her ass for her. Almost.

'Oh.’ is all that gets out from her lips, eyes widely trained on the stubborn butt that’s been taunting her for god knows how long.

'Why do you look like death? I thought being high and having a nap is like heaven or something?’

'I don’t know.’ She moves to get herself some water, the as-, the after-high making her thirsty.

'Do you, er-, do you remember what we were talking about?’

'Something about your parents being thieves?’ the words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, her body stiff. What if it is true and Camila’s taken out her laser gun aiming straight for Lauren’s head?

'What the fuck Lo?!’

'I guess it’s not that. What were we talking about then?’

'Oh.’ Camila’s tone is somewhat disappointed, tugging at Lauren’s heart so she quickly turns around, ready to dissipate whatever disappointment Camila is feeling.

Lauren stares at the timid girl, and she wonders how someone can go from I can rip your head off to I was a puppy in my past life but the cuteness is still here. She raises her eyebrow, urging Camila for an answer.

'We er, you were urm, you said, er y-you wanted to kiss me.’ She mumbles the last part, and it misses Lauren’s ear.

So, she steps closer, moving her ear closer to Camila’s mouth, asking her to repeat herself. Big mistake.

'You wanted to kiss me.’ she exhales against Lauren’s ear after saying that, like it was the longest run she had ever been a part of.

And it’s like a domino effect, the way her exhale steals away Lauren’s breath, Camila’s breath tickling Lauren’s ear.

'W-what?’ Lauren gulps, wishing Camila had shot her with the hidden laser gun instead.

'You said yo-’

'No, I didn’t.’

'You did, yo-’

Lauren was so close to escaping to the safety of the claustrophobic bathroom, but Camila acts quicker, grabbing Lauren’s arm, successfully trapping Lauren against the wall and herself.

'You don’t get to just walk off. You’re 17 Lauren, act like it.’

And that’s exactly what Lauren doesn't do.

'I am acting like it.’ she gestures with air quotation marks, causing Camila to roll her eyes.

Sighing, Camila loosens her hold, gaze now trained on the floor.

’D-did you mean it?’

Yes.

'Camz, I was high.’ Lauren surprises herself with the confidence in her tone because god knows her words are a whole big fat lie. Apparently, Camila is God.

'Don’t fuck around Laur. T-there has to be some -, I like you and I know you feel something too.’

'I-’

Lauren doesn’t finish her sentence, frankly because, there is no sentence. But there’s no better moment than this to get even the slightest taste of Camila.

So she cups the brunette’s cheeks, leaning closer, just enough to let their lips graze and she feels it. The temperature peeking just a little, both their breaths staggering against the tingling skin of their lips. She doesn’t kiss her though, not yet. She takes her time, basking in the way she can feel Camila’s breathing faltering into an irregular symphony. Camila’s fingers clutch tightly on her shirt, and Lauren can feel just how badly Camila wants this too. She can feel the blood breathing loud in her ears, leaving enough room for her heart to echo the same words. Kiss her.

So, she does. She kisses her and loses herself in the high. Again. It’s intoxicating, being able to taste the lips she’s spent forever dreaming of, and she’s more than willing to let herself go.

Flipping the two over, Lauren now has Camila between herself and the wall, and she takes the opportunity to press against Camila completely, moving her lips along the length of Camila’s neck.

God, she’s fucking hungry. She grazes her teeth against the soft skin, and when she feels Camila tilting her neck, she bites, eager for more when she hears Camila inhaling sharply.

'Laur.’ Camila breathes out, her fingers losing themselves in Lauren’s hair.

Fuck. She's starving now.

***

In hindsight, she knows that she knew better; but isn’t that the case always? Who can resist an impulse that’s been culturing for so long? Not Lauren, that's for sure.

It’s been a week since Lauren allowed herself to not care for once, and now, she doesn’t care at all. And that’s how she finds herself being straddled by the brown-haired girl who’s been driving her insane, with the dressing room door locked. Because that’s not suspicious or anything.

Her lips are currently attached to the same neck that she swears she’s not addicted to, hands alternating between squeezing or rubbing the same ass she had only dreamt of touching. She’s pretty sure her ear is about to combust up into flames, with the way Camila is tugging on it with her teeth, letting out profanities and moans and Lauren’s name in between breaths.

Lauren carefully caresses Camila’s hair away from her shoulder, tugging her buttoned shirt away before attaching her lips to the soft skin that’s demanding her attention. God, she’s so soft. Before she can explore any further, a knock pulls them both out of their daze, and whilst Camila buttons her shirt back up, lips swollen and hair messy, Lauren can’t help but kiss her again before moving to get the door.

***

Coffee. That’s all Lauren can think of, walking into the kitchen of their shared apartment. She notices the smell of fresh coffee, her eyebrows furrowing because there’s no way any of her bandmates were up at this ungodly hour. But that thought quickly dissipates when she hears the strumming of a guitar, followed by a voice. A voice that she would definitely trade coffee for. But like, there’s no actual need to sacrifice her coffee, so she pours herself a cup before joining the girl haunting her dreams.

She’s careful not to disturb the brunette, so she opts for leaning against the door frame, hands wrapped around her mug and breath stumbling at the sight of Camila so early in the morning.

She inhales deeply, feeling something perfect about this moment; the fresh coffee, the guitar that hums around the songs of the morning birds, and Camila. Her Camila. Her eyes rake over her bandmate, heart skipping at the sight of her 1975 tank top. She’s dressed casual, her hair haphazardly tossed over to one side, but god is she a sight for sore eyes. So effortless and beautiful.

and i'll stop kissing your mouth like friends do,

Camila ends her song, closing her eyes and it only now registers what she was singing in the first place. Friends? There’s no way she can be just friends with Camila.

Not with the way she just wants to kiss Camila the minute she wakes up, or the way she wants Camila to be the last thing she feels right before she falls asleep. Not with the way her hands have found their home in Camila’s skin, every lamp inside of her lighting up at the way Camila responds to her touch.

Nah. Definitely not just friends.

Determined, she walks over to the bench, coffee long forgotten on the floor.

Resting her hands on both armrests, she leans down, feeling her heart miss a beat at the little constellations on Camila’s nose.

'Whatcha doing Camz?’

'O-oh I was just-’ Camila’s cheeks have turned rosy and Lauren can’t help but smile at how cute she looks.

But she’s in no mood to tease the girl, not right now anyway. Instead, she lifts Camila’s chin up, before pressing her lips against the coffee-flavoured lips she’s grown to love.

'I-I couldn’t sleep.’

'Good.’

Lauren kisses her again, enjoying the way Camila is now leaning up into her, chest out and head tilted up like she can’t get enough of Lauren. And Lauren’s glad for that because Lauren most definitely cannot get enough of the Cuban.

'I can’t look at you quite like friends do.’ Lauren echoes Camila’s song against her lips, and when she gets Camila’s smile on her lips, she knows the brown-eyed goddess gets it.

a/n: i couldn’t figure out whether i wanted this as angst or not but then anobrain made me want to get high so this happened :)) (spoiler alert i didn’t get high x)

my wattpad if you wanna: missing_jauregui

#UPDATE #one shot #non AU #camren #based on song #submission #anobrain like friends do

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sandersimagination · 6 years

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Wassup, ST here! You remember that information Sleep said we were gathering? Well I’m here to present it to you. Well, at least some of it. So here’s some general facts about those of us available for asks!

Sleep:

Lives off coffee

Poor child has horrible nightmares and refuses to sleep until he just crashes

The only way in which you could bribe him to sleep is with cuddles (They chase away the nightmares)

He is the epitome of clingy when sleeping

Ironically, or unironically depending how you look at it, he has the ability to knock someone out cold (putting them to sleep not punching them Anxiety, chill)

Hates Anxiety with a passion like nobody's business (None of us can figure out why though, asides from Emile but he refuses to share claiming “doctor, patient confidentiality”

Whenever there’s a concert you can bet your money that Sleep will be there, dragging Virgil along with him

You know that bag he has with him? Ya he never leaves it unattended and no one knows what’s in it.

Has photophobia (That’s why he has those glasses he never takes off) The cause has not been determined, although Emile thinks it might have something to do with Sleep’s glowing eyes.

Has no sense of direction

Says he’s going to the store, next thing you know he calling asking you to pick him up cause he’s somehow found his way to The Witches Tower (Which is all the way across Ro’s kingdom from the city)

He moves quietly, you could be sitting in the living room with nothing on (it’s so quiet you can hear a pin drop) and he’ll come through into the kitchen then back out the front door without you even knowing he was there.

If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be.

Emile Picani:

Is a psychologist

Meaning he’ll do more than just relationship therapy

He’s not a medical doctor, there the Surgeon for medical emergencies

He’s taken to studying somethings in terms of magic for anyone of Ro’s kingdom (and Sleep) who might need assistance

Loves childrens shows.

He finds small messages or characters to relate back to his patients

Tends to be the one to aid Sleep in his adventures

This is because he doesn’t really have any other patients at the moment aside from the steven universe team

And won’t until there’s another episode of Cartoon therapy being produced

This also doesn’t mean they all have continual issues, asides from poor Elliot, it more means that they go there to talk with PIcani about things not necessarily relationship wise

When exploring the town with Sleep you better bet that he carries around the cheeseburger backpack

He also makes sure to get them both donuts at some point while exploring

Has a sweet tooth

Can’t consume coffee cause it makes him jittery and he can’t focus well

Missy (Misleading Compliments):

He’s the Thomas from the misleading compliments vines

Sweetest bean

Look like as cinnamon roll and is one but he can still kill you

Mess with his friends and they’ll never find your body

… this time it’s not a compliment

Really flirtatious, but knows when to stop or tone it down

Sometimes he’s a flirt without meaning to, but it’s just in his nature

Might accidentally say an innuendo without meaning to most of the time

Is also a gentleman

Will open a door for you and refuse to let you pay for dinner, even if he just met you

Anytimes Deceit comes around he can be easily influenced by the false compliments

When Virge reveals however who Deceit actually is (He lied about his identity the first meeting) Missy is the first one to deck him in the face next time he shows up

Will fite you behind Dennys if you try to talk bad about yourself

Pranks (Pranks with Friends):

He’s the Thomas from the Pranks with friends series

Avid lover of Pokemon and his love of Disney can rival Roman’s

April fools is his favorite holiday

He makes sure that any pranks he pulls are harmless

Of course this doesn’t mean that there haven’t been a few that have caused some issues

One of his pranks went horribly wrong and he’s avoided the mention of it since

The largest goofball/dork you will ever meet

Of the trio he’s the most innocent

Deceit gets the brunt of any/all of his pranks

Wears hoodies 24/7/365

As soon as Pokemon Go came out he’s been all over it

He made ST and Missy play as well. Of course they had to all choose different teams

Pranks:Instinct. Missy:Mystic. ST: Valor

Hurt his friends and he’ll pull the most harmless, yet annoying pranks to get back at you.

As a warning. After that it’ll get physical

ST (Narrating your lives):

ST (Short for Story Time) is the Thomas from the Narrating Your Lives vines

Will also respond to Narrator

He’s an Extra™ boi

If you can’t find him with the other two then head to Ro’s village,he’ll be there directing and writing plays with Roman.

If this was a human AU or they had actual history as kids in school then he definitely would have been the one to be bullied.

When narrating people’s lives he has been punched before

If we’re playing the who’s most innocent with the trio, then he’d be the least

Aims to add puns in where ever he sees fit

Or if he comes up with one

Missy normally winds up beating him to it though

Kind of impulsive

Brain:

Impulse control? Who’s she? Never heard of her.

Intrusive thoughts are powerful in this one yes.

If your friend jumped off the bridge would you?

The answer yes, by the way

Also the little shite actually ate a tide pod

The only reason he’s not dead is cause he’s a figment of Thomas’s imagination

He did become terribly ill though

Now they have to be locked up on a high shelf

That has not stopped him from summoning more unfortunately

Within the short amount of time Anxiety has been around he’s become Brain’s babysitter

He can be mature and reasonable when he wants to

For some reason that goes just as horribly

Duet (Drive-by-Duets):

The Thomas from the Drive-by-Duet vines

He randomly breaks into song

He's a precious bean

Encourages everyone planning on trying out acting or some music based career

He's also can be found with Roman and ST in the village

He is an less Extra™ boi but he is still extra

Can play literally any instrument

Dorky gentleman

Where Missy is smooth Duet trips over his own feet trying to pull out your seat for you

He is also clumsy when not trying to be smooth

He is not allowed into the kitchen unsupervised

Can sing like an angel but can't dance to save his life

Elliot:

Smol bean

Must be protected (Sleep’s words not mine)

Listens to “emo” music (Like MCR, Evanessense, Set it Off, to name a few)

He loves his boyfriend, he really does and he swears Michael loves him too (Sleep would beg to differ, but doesn’t try arguing)

When Sleep and Virgil go off to concerts they always makes sure lend the invitation to Elliot

While he doesn’t always accept the offer, he does appreciate the thought.

They haven’t really felt like sharing much so this all there is currently

Corne:

Sloane and Corbin, precious beans

Sleep claims that Sloane is more dangerous than he seems

Sleep also claims that Corbin has not much of and idea what he got himself into by dating Sloane

He refuses to say why he thinks this way

Sloane takes life as it comes and doesn’t let bad things deter him.

Corbin’s a bit more of a prepare for the worst and hope for the best

Aaannnd Corbin refused to let us ask anymore questions after that so that’s all for now.

Dorry:

Larry and Dot are rebellious teen adults.

Dot doesn’t know her own strength sometimes

They pick on each other occasionally, but it’s all in good fun.

Larry tries too hard occasionally to be… hip? Would that be the word to use??

Dot’s one of those teachers that’s awesome as a person, but aggravating as a teacher

Anything else was found by Emile, who keeps claiming doctor patient confidentiality

Vitani (The Dragonwitch):

Despite what was mentioned before about Roman’s characters being the least aware, she’s actually as aware as Sleep and us.

She’s dubbed herself Vitani because it’s easier than always calling her dragonwitch.

Don’t tell Roman though

The head witch and alpha dragon

She’s got her work cut out for her.

Can shapeshift like the sides, through the use of her magic.

Her magic color is green cause Every Villain Is Lime

She’d much prefer a shade of Red-violet but it can’t be helped now

Is very Sassy™

Can and will shapeshift into a dragon at will

Can be found hanging out with Virgil is some of her spare time

This you also don’t tell Roman

Not just for her sake but for Virgil’s as well

On that note don’t mention it to the others that Virgil comes here period

Steer clear when she and Roman are in the midst of battle

Virgil:

Anxious boyo

He’s not kidding don’t tell the others he’s here doing this

Favorite band is Evanescence

Is normally here either to talk with Vitani or go to a concert with Sleep

Virgil is normally the one Sleep ends up cuddling in his sleep

Virgil allows it because it has mutual benefits

Sleep will, well, sleep and Virgil can rest easier

No one is too sure what he and Vitani do when they’re hanging out

Any questions about the others? Just ask us and we’ll see if we can answer.

#Fun fact #When typing out Elliot I wound up having to go do something else #and when I came back the latest point said #“When they”#And that was it #So I sat for a while questioning #“when they what?”#before I had to just move on #or I’d never get these done #Sleep sanders #Roman Sanders #Virgil sanders #Emile picani #Sanders shorts #Sanders sides #cartoon therapy

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dwollsadventures · 4 years

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TDG Prologue 3 - Devil

After a century of imprisonment, one prisoner is finally being released. The prison guard assigned to walk him out is troubled by a single fact gnawing at his heart: Seth Farofeil Locke is the devil himself. -- AH It's finally done. The revision of the final prologue!!

If you've ever wondered who the fellow with the rainbow glasses you've seen in my galleries is, this is him. And the primary antagonist of the gang, even if he doesn't show up right away.

My original plan was to finish writing and publish it on October 30th, but I got influenza and panicked that it was actually the plague. Turns out, it wasn't! Still pretty dangerous and I've been feeling like shit, but still a big weight off my shoulders. Halloween is as good a day as any to publish it though. It is sort of scary in some parts.

Warning though, there is some verbal violence and mentioning of some violence (towards people and animals), and strong language as well. On par for demonic stuff, but he doesn't actually do any of it.

The next updates, writing-wise, include some cover art for this story and the actual first part of the TDG Acronym Pending.

Enjoy whenever you want, regardless of how thin the veil between the dead and the living is, and have a happy Halloween!

On this day, October 30th, 1961, a man was released from prison and nobody was happy about it. Except the man in question of course.

Under the fluorescent lights of the block, there was no noise except for the footsteps of the guard, miserably marching towards his cell. The absence of noise let the footsteps and their echoes bounce around, until they became so distorted it sounded as if a giant were walking through the halls. Walsh normally liked the silence of the prison. Now it was more awful than anything he could imagine.

Despite the early glow of morning light betraying the fact it was nearly six am, every inmate in the block was awake. Staring at Walsh. He wanted nothing more than to shout at them, to tell them to mind their own damn business and keep their faces away from the bars. Under normal circumstances he would have, too. Now he didn’t trust his own voice not to crack.

The pressure of all that attention hammered away at the officer’s mind. It was as if he were an inmate being wheeled away by a couple of officers for the electric chair, an act Walsh had participated in a few times, but never on this end. His fingers itched for weapons he wasn’t allowed to bring with him.

In the darkness every haggard face looked at him anxiously. They all knew where he was going. The younger inmates may have noticed the similarity to a cartoon, where an unfortunate soul looks at the trail of gunpowder light as they sit on a box of dynamite. No such connection happened. Firstly, because there were very few young prisoners in the high security Galgenvogel. Secondly, the only person in the prison who might have laughed about the situation was Locke himself.

He was the reason they were all awake. Some of them hadn’t even been able to sleep the night before, others made each other promises to wake them up before it happened. They weren’t sure what was going to happen. Most of them had never thought Seth Farofeil Locke was capable of being released from prison. Even those not skilled in algebra knew Locke equaled prison. It was like watching a fundamental piece of the universe disintegrating in front of their eyes. But if anything was going to happen they wanted good seats.

The guard continued his resolute march with his attention on the path in front of him. The scuffed steel walkway seemed so solid compared to the rows of strained faces. That comfort was short-lived. Even the honest steel in front of him seemed to melt before his eyes, twisting the floor into the red-hot road leading to Hell. Walsh’s prison was melting before his very eyes.

Galgenvogel Penitentiary was known for two things: being the oldest operating prison in Illinois, and being a huge, dull block of brutalist efficiency. Its walls were blank concrete and metal, so thick a tank would need a week to bust in and so sleek even spiders had trouble scaling them. The inside of the prison was the same; metal had only been integrated decades ago and the dark iron railing stood plainly against the dreary grey of the stone walls. Though it was primarily a medium-security prison the stark dress did nothing to correct many people’s assumption that the single maximum-security unit was its sole purpose.

Even the uniforms worn by the inmates were devoid of color: white for general circulation, black for high-security, and grey for those on watch in circulation.

Walsh, the senior-most guard, had always expressed his opinion that a good monochrome always made them feel like they were in prison. He'd go on to say that all this orange and blue and green was part of what was wrong these days, with the recidivism rates as high as they are; gang-bangers jumping in and out all the time, swapping one color for another, it made him sick.

If there were a better representative of Galgenvogel than Walsh, he'd probably shouted at them. Walsh was, in his army days, lauded by his superior officers for being "big". It had gotten him high praise and higher wages back then. Now, with nearly forty years working under his belt, he was merely big. He was as grey as the building, though usually pink in the sunlight, with a topping of black hair and a big black moustache which his wife said made him look distinguished. Galgenvogel didn't hire guards for their kindness, nor their smarts, nor their sense of justice (although Walsh did consider himself a rather judicially minded man), especially in the Twenties. All the other prison guards looked up to him. A man of his seniority and experience was highly valued in a prison like Galgenvogel. There wasn’t a nook or cranny left that he hadn’t personally reported on.

Everyone at the prison, barring the inmates, whose opinion didn’t count, knew that Walsh was a good man. Raised Christian right around Chicago with a big family and a modest one of his own. If he could name a stain upon his soul, one singular sin that made even him question his own placement in the divine firmament, it was this belief: that Seth Farofeil Locke was the devil himself.

This wasn’t some crazy delusion, he assured himself. It had taken him nearly a decade of knowing Locke to fully accept it. He had all the evidence he needed as well.

It was a secret he was loath to share with anyone. His fellow guards, the wardens, even his own wife. In his day Walsh had dealt with gangsters and dragged murderers and lunatics to the electric chair. He placed himself as a stalwart wall against the criminal darkness to protect the innocent. The fact this one, singular man posed the greatest challenge he had ever known drove Walsh up the wall.

To Walsh’s knowledge Locke was as clean as a whistle. He had never thrown a punch, participated in a riot, or said anything to incite violence in others. Which wasn’t to say every word out of his mouth was clean and shiny. No, Locke had a special way with words. His tongue could infuriate the most stoic and subdue the most homicidal. Never once had he gotten a job or joined in on any of the other inmate’s games or activities. He’d checked out two books from the prison library during his entire stay at Galgenvogel and had never bought anything from the commissary.

Locke was perfectly fine to eat whatever the prison gave him, sleep whenever the guards told him to, do anything to waste away the days until he got released. Even if it meant staring at a wall for hours on end, looking at the strange shapes the bars were morphed into by the dying sunlight.

Once Walsh had gotten permission to throw Locke into solitary for three days after he was late for a count. For three days he heard nothing and saw nothing. On the last night of the third day Walsh escorted Locke back. He had asked him about his stay in the hole. Locke shrugged noncommittally and simply replied, “been in worse holes”. And that was that.

Walsh hated him. None of the other inmates made him feel as old and slow as Locke did. The guard was a big man, even in a profession where that wasn’t much to distinguish him. Galgenvogel let him carry big weapons, weapons they got from the army when they didn’t need them anymore. There hadn’t been a man Walsh had met that couldn’t be beat down given enough time. Except Locke. Everything passed over him like a gust of wind. Physical force, verbal haranguing, harsh punishment, it was all the same to him. He was the only prisoner Walsh had ever needed to use his brain to combat.

For as long as he’d been at Galgenvogel the two had been caught in a fiendish game of cat and mouse. Just when Walsh thought he had him, Locke slipped between his fingers once more and the game continued. All those chases over all those years for it to end like this.

In front of his cell, waiting for the watchtower to unlock it, he was face to face with the present. Without the lights on it was as dark as the mouth to a dragon’s cave.

Walsh could feel the inmates’ stares burn into his back like lashes as the cell door clicked open.

Locke was waiting for him. He sat on the edge of his bed in civilian clothes given to him by the prison. No one else was inside. For some reason or another, Locke was always alone.

In his hands were probably the only personal possessions Locke had ever had, two red dominoes. At least, Walsh thought they were dominoes. They looked like dominoes at least, the color of redwood and smoothed by years of being passed from hand to hand, slipped between his fingers like a magic trick.

Once Walsh had gotten them from him during an inspection. Despite his probing they weren’t laced with drugs. The symbols on them looked like pieces from a mahjong board, and despite his insistence none of them were gang signs. During the week they were gone, Locke stuck to his cell and shambled around like a ghost. Afterwards the correctional officers classified them as “depression-alleviating equipment” and that they were not to be taken from him anymore.

Regardless, the prison guards tried their best to sneak them away from him, often failing. To their knowledge none of the other prisoners had ever laid hands on them.

One night, one of the junior guards thought he saw them sitting on Locke’s eyes while he slept, like coins for the dead. Walsh was the only guard at the prison who made the effort to keep an eye on Locke. Amongst the staff Locke was a taboo subject.

Now the dominoes were simply jingling in his pockets. Locke stood up and nodded to Walsh. He wanted to get it all over with as soon as possible. He did not look back at his cell as he left.

With little pomp and circumstance, he led Locke out and towards freedom.

As Locke made his way across the block, the other inmates stared. On their faces was a mixture of confusion, contempt, pity, and relief. No one wished Locke goodbye and good wishes. No one shook his hand. No one said anything. They just kept staring at him.

The penitent theater gazed upon the two actors on the steel stage, breaths held in anticipation. Would he burst into flames as soon as he crossed the threshold? Or would snakes shoot out of his orifices? Would he make a mad dash for the warden and slice up anyone he met on the way? They didn’t know. They just kept waiting.

Walsh was by no means a shy man. He was a regular at the baseball stadium and his boisterous cheering could carry over the roar of a Cub's game straight out to the parking lot. Now, with hundreds of faces staring at Locke, he felt like an extra in a movie, the ones all dressed in black so they could move props without getting in the way of the actors.

By the time they’d crossed the barrier out of the block Walsh’s throat felt like it was tied in knots. He picked up his equipment, including his gun which he felt immeasurably safer carrying, and wiped off his brow.

If the walk affected Locke at all he was doing an amazing job at hiding it. He just kept staring ahead, twiddling the dominoes in his hand.

To break the silence Walsh cleared his throat and asked, “No one to say goodbye to back there?” Partly to ease the tension, partly to get a name to interrogate later.

Locke shrugged.

The continued walking out of the depths of the prison. Windows now let the early morning light in, basking the two in pink light which made Locke’s hair look like wildfire.

No friends, not a single one. During his initial investigation Walsh had spoken to some of the correctional officers, to see if Locke had gang affiliations or something of the sort. Perhaps a past inclination to associate with fellows of a darker nature. Anything that would seem more likely than him being a… demon. Walsh felt too embarrassed to even think the word now.

Luck did not favor Walsh. Everyone in the prison knew Locke, he was tied to the building, like an incarcerated genie. The C.O.s had noticed other men tended to seek out Locke for little things; favors or information. And he never ate alone. There was always one group that could manage to find space for him on the bench. A young Walsh found that every man who Locke hung around with expressed dislike, even hatred for him. Locke didn’t keep his mouth shut. Jokes leapt off his tongue as easily as flies, often spiraling into venomous spiels. Personal ones, too. He had a knack for figuring out secrets and what made people tick, and how to tic them off. Yet regardless of their opinion, they always kept coming back to him. Just like he did.

Walsh was the senior-most prison guard. The rest of his sign-on buddies had left, one by one, due to injury or stress (being sissies about it, he reflected) or plain old retiring. Not Walsh. When he first came aboard it was in the twenties. After his service in the Great War, back when it was called the Great War, he'd gotten a job at his home-town's police station but got an even better deal at Galgenvogel from his old sergeant. There he avoided all of the nonsense that the market-crash brought with it and rode a secure wave all the way to the prison equivalent of tenure.

Back then he had a lot more friends, people who he could reasonably confide in. Never in a million years did he share his secret suspicion, but there were at least other people willing to acknowledge that something about Locke didn’t seem right. His old friends helped him even though they didn’t know what he was actually looking for.

The older prison guards never helped him. All he got from them were shifty eyes and downcast gazes. He’d never liked the spineless old men. He’d vowed never to give the new recruits the same treatment. Some of them wished he would, always prying into their lives, lecturing them like a father.

Locke’s official paperwork didn’t offer much enlightening evidence. The three sheets of paper that constituted his record were from decades ago and tended to get details wrong. Eye color and hair color shifted twice and all three listed his age as 33 even with multi-year gaps between the writing.

One record noted a visitation in 1914 with two of his brothers. Frustratingly the names were not listed, and no other report mentions any kind of family. Walsh reasoned they were probably former accomplices of whatever put him in jail. Even a few years into the job he’d grown suspicious of visitors into his prison. Half of them were probably making sure the inmates didn’t squeal on those outside.

Within time both the paper trail and his patience puttered out. Walsh was not a book-learned man and he had no aspirations of following the paper trail.

He had all but given up his notion when one day a key landed itself in his pocket. To this day Walsh could still not recall how it got there. In the back of his mind theories crawled like spiders, but he tried to ignore them.

The key was for a lockbox in the archives. A separate building from the blocks and main center which went underground. In the cramped, dark underground room he found his key’s home. Prison records of Galgenvogel from the years 1860-1870.

Walsh knew the prison was old. Just knowing didn’t prepare him for what he found. Reports of arrests and prisoners, hand-written in curly font that made his eyebrow twitch. Though he assured himself he didn’t have to deal with any of this pencil-pushing crap, he kept reading. And reading. And reading.

Until one report for September 31st, 1861. A prisoner report appended with an arrest report and various court documents. They read that, on the night of September 13th a man claiming to be Seth Farofeil Locke was discovered in the garden of a wealthy family from the Gold Coast of Chicago. Alongside him was the family’s sole daughter, Lily Lyehope, hung from a noose. Mr. Locke was arrested, pled guilty, and sentenced to life in prison at the newly opened Galgenvogel where the judge ruled that he, “shall be confined there for the rest of a man’s natural life.”

Walsh didn't know what to think. Obviously, there must've been some kind of mix up. Locke was probably this guy's son, or grandson. When he got back to the guard tower, the key had disappeared from his pocket.

One week later, there was a fire in the archives. The newer records were kept intact, but everything from sixty years or so ago had been tragically destroyed. This was when Walsh’s suspicions were confirmed true.

No matter what he tried to do to forget, it never left his mind. Even on the days when he didn't think about it, the memory sat in the back of his thoughts waiting for the moment to pounce on his uneasy mind. He'd come to the prison a young man and became an old one through his years of service. Walsh gained weight, lost hair, got wrinkles, grew stiff in the joints, learned to cope with his inevitable death, and even lost a finger to a man on death row. When he joined, all those years ago, he thought Locke was a young man. Time passed, and he figured he was just young-looking for his age.

As Walsh walked Locke through door after door of prison security, watching him sign legal papers, he realized Locke was the exact same man as he’d met forty years ago. The only thing that was different was the uniform.

Walsh was possibly the only man alive who knew the truth.

Around this time the façade began to crumble. He couldn’t help it. All the inmates knew Locke as the guy who was in before them, who knew the prison and everyone in it. Even the ones given life sentences, who’d been in the prison longer than Walsh had. One night, after several before devoid of sleep and full of phantom Lockes watching him from the darkness, he’s snapped and beaten a man giving him trouble well beyond the point of reason.

The warden gave him a few nights off for paid vacation, ‘to rest your mind’. It was the worst vacation of his life. At home he wrestled with the thoughts until he got an ulcer. At first, he thought he needed to hightail it out of there, get his family away from the demonic threat in the prison. Walsh did not decide to do that.

Why did he join as a prison guard in the first place? Why did he go to Europe as a young man? Because he wanted to protect people. He wanted to be a warrior, a defender of the innocent. So, he marched back to the prison reassured of his new position as the last defense against the fiends of Hell.

When he got back, he never asked about the beaten prisoner.

His mission had started ever since then. Walsh was a man who operated best when he was following orders, and as far as he could concern these orders were heaven-sent.

Not being able to tell his wife and kids was the most aggravating part. If they knew the kind of danger he was putting himself in front of every day, they would show him more respect.

It had been long and hard. These forty years took a toll on Walsh, harder than even the trenches. Keeping track of him wasn’t that hard. He never left the prison and only ever switched between general circulation and high security once. And, compared to his other duties as a prison guard Locke wasn’t dangerous. The only damage he’d ever inflicted on anyone in prison had been rhetorical, his tongue could be razor sharp when it needed to be. In truth, after his vacation Walsh had never needed mental help dealing with his feelings, like some of the other pansies he worked with. But it was still hard. If not literal hardship, then poetic hardship.

Excluding his many hardships and daunting heavenly mission, Walsh reflected that his career had been successful. Whenever he didn’t have to deal with Locke the job was steady, and he could probably sink into a comfortable life after retirement. It looked like it was all smooth sailing for Walsh.

“And what do you plan to do after re-entering society? Do you have any careers in mind?”

“Yes sir, one of my buddies hooked me up with a gig. Sweet by the looks of it. Everything I’ve ever wanted to do and more, just need to take the bus to Toledo.”

Seeing him sign his name in the warden’s office and talk with him about his plans for after he got out, it didn’t seem real. None of it did. Locke was leaving. Ever since the retrial last week, life seemed like a dream.

Walsh was called in for an inmate’s trial. Nothing new, he’d done it before, usually to provide first-hand evidence of their behavior and infractions. Informing a court with a rapt audience of some ne’er-do-well’s bad conduct was one of the little joys of the job.

When he heard the judge proclaim Locke’s name, and saw him walk in through the courtroom doors, his heart had sunk. Lights flashed before his eyes. Something was wrong. How could he have missed the name?

It was an especially hot day. A stroke of misfortune on the weather’s part brought an October heat wave. No one questioned Walsh’s perspired brow, his dry throat.

His eyes were glued on Locke the entire trial. All he did was sit there, looking thoroughly disinterested with the theatre of law and order. If the men next to him were suspicious of Walsh’s rapt gaze, they didn’t say anything. Or Walsh didn’t hear them. They didn’t matter anyway. How was Locke going to squeeze his way out of this one?

Finally, he was called for a statement.

From his spot, he could see the jury, the few seated, the lawyer, and Locke. Everyone except Locke and his lawyer was anxious and fidgeting in their seats. Even the judge had to clear his throat after a failed start-up.

“Now, Mr. Walsh, are you able to corroborate Mr. Locke’s… age?”

The pause caught him off guard.

“Age, your honor?”

The judge’s eyes swiveled around, as if he were scared the defense was listening to him.

“Yes, Mr. Locke’s age. Sir Nemo, his lawyer, has claimed Locke to be 132 years old. And thus, he has more than served his life sentence. Is there anything that you can do to confirm or deny this?”

Walsh realized it now. In any other circumstance the whole court would have been called out. But this was Locke they were talking about. His freedom hinged entirely upon Walsh’s testimony.

He wanted to lie. If it meant foiling his plans Walsh would have told the court Locke was born this morning. Something stirred within Walsh, in this moment. He had placed his hand on the Bible. He had put his faith in it entirely. Now, in his heart, he knew if he did the right thing and told the truth, Locke would be forced to give up and maybe even burst into ashes.

Walsh spoke. He told the court nothing but the truth. About the report he’d found, about how Locke didn’t age, about how he seemed to exist separate from the stream of time. He poured every inch of honesty into his speech. Pure, unadulterated faith exuded from Walsh’s pores.

It was the first time the Good Book had failed him.

His lawyer successfully managed to convince the court that the language, “rest of a man’s natural life,” technically did not qualify as an actual life sentence. Furthermore, by any medical assessment, Locke had fulfilled his time and more. No one argued. No one wanted to be in that sweltering courtroom anymore. Even releasing a murderer seemed like a small price to pay for their peace and comfort.

The gavel struck Walsh in the head and the judge’s words poured out of his ears. Seth Farofeil Locke has served his life sentence and was free to go.

Days afterward Walsh moved through the world like a ghost. His eyes were blank, and he responded to others in mere mumbles. It was as if the life had drained out of him. He didn’t tail Locke. He didn’t listen in on the inmate’s gossip. He didn’t believe it.

Locke, meanwhile, was more alive than he had been in the last century. He was getting around and talking to people. Not trading information either, he was really talking to them: sitting with them at lunch to discuss life outside, learning how to play poker (which he developed quite a knack for), even spending evenings at the library. The color had returned to Locke’s grey life.

At one point he had even gotten Tony Larone, Tony Larone the biggest meanest brick wall ever given sentience, Tony Larone the man who during Prohibition killed his two buddies after they ratted him out, Tony Larone who hadn’t smiled since Hoover was in office, to laugh. By Galgenvogel’s standards, it was a miracle.

The closer his release date came, the more Locke flourished and Walsh wilted. For the briefest moment he had considered calling in sick. Only for a moment though. He needed to see this to the end. It was what he was owed, for all those years that had been stole from him. It was hard though. Walsh’s lucidity was slipping. He kept seeing things; fire in the skies and snakes biting their own tails populated his waking and sleeping hours.

Two nights before release Locke was making more phone calls than any other inmate. He could be seen writing in a pad all across the prison and said he was working on his “escape plans”.

During a routine check in the library, before closing, Walsh found that pad. Open to the most recent page, written in cursive so ornate it looked like calligraphy:

Events of Importance: Civil War Abolition of slavery Forty-five hundred dead Indians 2 World Wars “Adam?” bombs

IMPORTANT! Remember to use “burn” cars, so mortals can’t track

Contacts (revised): Go to Toledo, by Walbridge Park. Meet Amon. Best bet to get into Hell. Make sure to bring necessary ingredients for Hellmouth

He walked to Locke’s cell and handed it to him.

None of it phased Walsh, who was so convinced the last week had been a dream that such blatant evidence which confirmed his decades-long conspiracy was clearly lazy effort on his subconscious’s part.

That was how Walsh was treating most of his day-to-day life, actually.

It wasn’t until he saw Locke finish writing the last curly “e” on his signature that reality came to drag Walsh into the terrible present. That was it. The last bit of paperwork, the last performative bureaucracy needed to prove to the world that Locke was no longer an inmate. All he needed to do was wait for the bus.

For no real reason, except perhaps shock, Walsh sat across from him in the waiting room. Soon, when the officer at the front desk left (“it’s seven am, not like anything’s going to happen in here”) they were alone, together.

Locke, in denim from toe to tip two sizes bigger than his body, looked out the window at the rising sun and the gathering storm clouds. Red dominoes slipped between his fingers faster than the eyes could see.

Walsh simply looked at the floor.

Why am I so beat up about this? He couldn’t find an answer. Locke was the devil. He should be glad to see him leave and slam the door on the way out.

But… did he ever do anything particularly devilish? Not that Walsh could recall. There was the arrest record and the archives being burned. And the writing pad with his plans to go to Hell. Aside from that though, Locke never gave Walsh any problems. Locke even spared Walsh the verbal lacerations he so readily gave out to others.

They weren’t friends. No, Locke was his nemesis. His villain. Walsh watched over him for years, decades even. He’d known Locke for too long. Longer than anyone, really. Longer than his work buddies. Longer than his neighbors. Longer than his wife.

They couldn’t be friends. Just because they’d known each other for so long didn’t mean they were friends. Walsh wasn’t friends with his kids. The brats hated him! A friend was someone you knew. Someone you set boundaries with and met with every day. Which. Walsh did do. There was probably no one alive that knew Locke as well as he did.

Friends enjoyed each other’s company though. Did Walsh enjoy Locke’s company? It was so rare that they weren’t surrounded by thugs and criminals that he didn’t really know. Perhaps, compared to the rest of the trash at Galgenvogel, Walsh did remember Locke with something akin to fondness. Maybe Locke would too.

Galgenvogel. Locke and Galgenvogel, the two were intertwined in Walsh’s head. And Walsh liked his job at the prison. Even with the bruises and scrapes he wouldn’t give up a minute of it. Now that he thought about it, Locke was an integral part of that. He was challenging. No other person had ever put Walsh through such a rigamarole as Locke did. Walsh liked that challenge.

Were they friends?

Something clicked in his head. He was sad to see Locke go. A part of Walsh was leaving through that door with him.

Maybe when Locke got his feet on the ground they could meet up, outside of the prison. That would be nice, he reflected. Walsh had never mentioned his work to his family, but that was a good thing. He didn’t want to introduce them all to Locke the Jail Devil, he wanted them to meet Locke the friend.

Wind and the smell of rain tore into the waiting room as the door opened. The bus driver stumbled through, chilled to the bone. Every evidence of that morning’s sun was gone, replaced with rain so cold it nearly froze on contact. The bus was in dire need of fuel so the inmates, or inmate as it were, could wait inside for a little bit longer.

Locke asked if he could wait on the bus.

“’S cold as dick, but if you wanna freeze I won’t stop you.”

The bus driver headed out into the cold once more as Locke stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Spurred on by emotions unfamiliar to him, Walsh cried out “Wait!”

Locke didn’t bother to look back, but he did stop moving.

Gathering up every atom of emotional intelligence within him (which wasn’t very much) he tried to come up with a speech on the spot.

Then, Walsh said, “Before you go, I, uh, wanted to tell you something. I know you’re the devil. Or, a devil, I’m not really sure how all that works. Maybe should have paid more attention during church. But I also know you’re not as bad as all that. Throughout all the years I’ve known you, you’ve been nothing but a stand-up gentleman. And I’ve known you for quite a few years! More than half of my life to be honest. In that time, I think I’ve really gotten to know you. Really know you. So, all I’m saying is, if you ever stop by Chicago, you’d be welcome at my home. I don’t care if it’s a sin because your friendship has been worth it.”

Sweat poured off Walsh’s brow. That took more effort than he thought, he wasn’t sure how the actors did it.

Locke stood stock-still. Walsh’s perspiration began to feel like ice-cold water.

Silence stole the sound from the room. Even the clock’s tick was hushed. The only sound at all was the hazy ghost of Walsh’s speech.

Locke broke the silence, “You think we’re friends?”

If the flow of the universe were a song, his voice sounded like a discordant string killing the rhythm..

“You really think that?”

Now he had turned around. Walsh’s stomach turned sour.

“I knew you were stupid Walsh, but really? Has dementia climbed into your hollow skull already? I’m not joking is there genuinely something wrong with you?”

Though Locke spoke no quieter than a whisper in his calm, mocking tone, every word rang in Walsh's ears louder than a church-bell.

“There has to be. Why else would you think that any sane person would ever consider you a friend?”

Walsh had sat back down, trying to stammer out an apology. His voice was too quiet though, everything he said was drowned out by Locke.

“I’ve got it. You don’t know how abhorrent of a person you are. Well, allow me to add a disregard for reality to your list of mental deficiencies. Fortunately, unlike all of your other personal failings, this one I can fix.”

From where Walsh was, Locke seemed to loom over him. Shadows from outside crept through the windows and flanked him, making him seem all the taller.

“Of all the human beings I have encountered here, you are the worst. The thinnest, lowest scrapings at the bottom of the barrel of humanity, and that’s saying a lot. For a century I have been sitting in this stone midden surrounded by all sorts of gnats. I was told this place was a cage for the worst they had to offer. And yet? Most of them are shmucks, no worse than every other asshole out there, just the ones unlucky enough to get caught.”

Locke’s head scraped the ceiling, and his feet cracked the tiles of the floor.

“Even when I was in the very blackest of pits with actual monsters did I ever encounter one as repugnant as you. You willingly came here, not to preach justice and peace and kissing your grandma on the cheek, but to fight and strike and kill other men. The fact you’re in a prison is only an excuse to get away with it.”

Walsh tried to shrink back, dive into the crease between the chair's back and seat, but Locke grabbed him and held him in his hand. Everything was dark, but Locke stood blazing bright commanding Walsh's attention. All he could do was faintly whisper “No…”

“No? I’ve seen you Walsh. I’ve seen the shine in your eyes as you beat men to an early grave. You don’t care what they did. You willingly sign up to drag them off to the electric chair. You’re an old man and you still come here every night salivating for the chance to show how big and tough you are to some scared sap who stepped out of line. To remind them of how stronger you are than them. I bet you’ve jerked yourself off thinking of that feeling.”

He felt an irritation in his pants, like a hand made of brambles had grabbed his unmentionables. Walsh tried, unsuccessfully, to blink the tears out of his eyes.

“I was planning on leaving this place to go to Hell Walsh. Hell. But as I am standing here looking at your flaccid, dickless form, a thought has crossed my mind. You’re going to end up there. If I go to Hell, I will probably see you there. And now, I’m having second thoughts. Is it worth it, to continue this plan I’ve been working on for the last century, if I have to suffer the misery of being in your presence again?”

Locke was a giant now. His hair stood up and twisted like plumes of flame, his hands twisted into eagle’s claws. Between wolf-like teeth venom dribbled from his mouth.

“You are lucky I don’t have a choice. If I could, I would dive into the grave and burn every forest and scorch every sea so that I wouldn’t have to see you.”

Acting on impulse, with his last bit of strength, Walsh rose up and struck Locke. He faltered, for a moment. Then, Walsh looked down at his hand and saw how feeble of a gesture it was. Walsh hadn’t even reached half-way.

“You're as strong as an ant and as loud as a spider Walsh. I could kill you with my thumb, but you're so disgusting it wouldn't make a difference. Nobody would even notice you were gone."

A third voice came from the door. "Uh... bus is ready."

The bus-driver had walked in, wondering what was taking them so long. He found the inmate, excuse me, former inmate, talking to the guard, who looked terrified out of his mind. Weirded him out something fierce.

Shadows retreated behind their master like faithful dogs and the room returned to its previous state. No sign of the insidiousness from before could be seen.

Locke grabbed his things and left without saying another word.

Walsh only noticed he was gone when he heard the firing up of the engine and saw the bus leave Galgenvogel's gates for the last time.

As the bus left, the front-desk guard came back. No one was in the waiting room. Which was weird, since Walsh should have passed him on his way back. The chair he sat in was empty, save for a small wet patch on the seat. Later, he would call for the janitor to clean it. Later still, he would have thought it worrying that Walsh wasn’t anywhere to be found, except he was a little preoccupied with the world ending.

On the long stretch of highway between Chicago and Toledo, there's nothing to see. There isn't even a "whole lot of nothing", that would be much too imaginative and witty to describe the eye-watering boringness of the road.

Standing out like oases in the Sahara are the few towns you get the pleasure of driving through on your way there. Compared to the start of the drive and the destination they're nothing to sneeze at, but after a couple of hours behind the steering wheel they seem like tiny spots of Heaven.

In one such town, no more than a clump of streets shooting off from the stem of the highway, Ma and Pa's corner-store makes a modest living. Most of their customers are travelers desperate for a reason to stop driving or locals ready to spend an hour chatting with the owners, the eponymous Ma and Pa, while picking up a little grocery.

Because they were on the road they got a lot of people. Truckers, business trips, family-outings, reunions, the local sheriff, census workers, teenagers, and even the odd honeymooners.

They'd never seen one like this before.

Ma had been at the front for a few hours catching up on her stories when she'd heard the tinkly bell of the doors. As soon as she finished customarily thanking him for coming in, she was tearing across the pages of the Yellow-Book looking for the number of the nearest sheriff's department. Something set her nerves off.

It wasn’t the way he was dressed (which made him look like he’d escaped from prison). It wasn’t the way he talked (like a heathen). Nor was it his attitude (which put Ma in mind of those no-good greasers she saw on the telly). She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it just felt like, when he walked into the store, she felt the inexplicable urge to punch him.

The wind outside wasn’t helping her nerves either. As soon as he’d come in it had picked up, and now it was rattling the door. Bird feeders and wind chimes tried to use metal wings to fly away.

Before skulking off he drawled out, "You got candles and salt? Last dump pointed in this direction for 'em."

Ma, barely fending off the beginning of a heart-attack, pointed towards aisles three and five.

He grabbed one of the shopping baskets, knocking six of them over in the process, and walked off.

A cluck made her eye twitch. As if that hadn't been enough, for God knows what reason he'd walked in with a chicken tucked beneath his right arm. This was probably the detail that made her ignore all the warning flags and sent her into a murderous rampage. The mere thought of having to clean up chicken mess from the floor made her fingers itch towards the club under the register.

She'd expected to smell alcohol on him, but the smell filling her nostrils was more like burnt pitch, or a campfire.

Ma was having trouble deciding whether or not he was breaking out of prison to rob them or coming back from some hippy commune to sneakily pilfer something but figured the sheriff could handle either option.

In the backroom Pa sat in his chair watching the chattering television, completely unaware. The way he was looking at it made her blood boil even more. Shame on him for watching that damned thing more closely than the services at church, oblivious to the fact that we are in the midst of being robbed!

She moves to wave at him, hoping he'll notice her, but stops once the stranger walks towards the counter with his purchases.

Regaining her composure, she says on instinct, "Will this be everything?"

He mutters "sure" without looking her in the eyes, instead gazing at the swirling clouds outside. Only the last vestiges of human decency keep her from tearing his limbs off.

Ma would never consider herself a criminal, but she possessed a long and extensive knowledge of heists, robberies, and murders after reading several hundred crime novels throughout the latter half of her life. Even she was stumped as to what crime he could commit with five novelty Christmas candles, a bag of salt, and a chicken.

While ringing up his purchases, she tries to look at his coat to see if there were any bulges that hadn't been there before. But it appeared he had stolen nothing. Nothing that she could see at least.

She does notice that, in his free hands were a small rucksack with nothing but spare change, a slip of paper with a phone number on it, and a pair of dominoes with red markings on them. And his wallet, from which he fished out a five-dollar bill.

"Two twenty-five is your total, would you like a bag to put this in, sir?" He didn't deserve a dear now, much less a dearie.

"Yes, if you'd so please."

She put the strange things in his bag and tried to swipe the peanut bowl away from the chicken, who was pecking at it to get closer. This and the rough, automated noise of the receipt printing only served to worsen her temper.

Just standing next to him made her stomach turn. Which was odd, because, when she got a better look at him, he was quite good looking. If he shaved the curtains over his eyes, he actually reminded Ma of one of her old flings. Back before she was Ma, before she met Pa, when she hung around the wrong crowd.

Together they’d been the talk of the town. Her own mother hated him, which just made him all the more attractive. No boy she’d ever met before had his own car. He’d even let her drive it all the way out to Chicago.

Which made it all the more heartbreaking when he drove up to prom with her sister. Ma stood in front of them in disbelief, and they walked past her without even a ‘how do you do’. It made her so mad.

When she got home, she tore her sister’s room apart. Broke all of her nails clawing the wallpaper and ripping the pillows to shreds. Throwing paint into her wardrobe. Flooding her restroom. Putting a bit of rat poison into the cat’s dinner bowl…

A knock against the window made her look up. There was a crack in the glass.

She looked around, but the wind outside was so violent that it must have carried whatever broke the glass just as fast as it brought it. Ma shivered. She had the willies, the creeps, and the heebie-jeebies all at once.

The receipt was cold, the ink dried. Ma looked over, but the man was gone. She was alone. Just like the night of prom.

Next to her, the sunglass rack spun and nearly gave her a start. Her stranger was standing next to it, with a look of such genuine mystification that you’d think he had never seen a pair before.

In fact, Locke had never seen a pair of sunglasses before. Certain fashion trends had eluded him while imprisoned. The officers weren't allowed to wear them while working, and the inmates only got them if they were working outside.

Spectacles he'd seen before, but the tinted glass framed by wired metal seemed so astoundingly simple he wondered why no one had done it earlier. He wondered why he didn't do it earlier.

Something that obscures your face without hiding it, were the first thoughts on his mind. The second, third, and fourth whizzed by so fast that they could not be recorded in print.

He spun the rack around, marveling at the different types, until he found one that spoke to him.

A pair tinted so brilliantly rainbow that you could see nothing through them. Locke slipped one of the domino-like objects from his left hand and placed them beneath the glasses. Looking down, through his right eye, he couldn't even see their silhouette.

Ma, in the process of extending her neck vertebrae so she could see what the stranger was doing, nearly cried out when a shriek so loud it rung her ears pierced the air. The shocked woman rubbed her ears, not sure if that was the lightning outside or some sort of shrill laughter.

He turned around, glasses set firmly on his face and asked, "How much for these?" His teeth were as bright and sharp as a fork of lightning.

She responded weakly, clutching her chest, "A dollar."

Looking at the change in her hand, "Well then, I reckon you can keep the rest of that!"

With a spring in his step, he grabbed all of his things and left the store. The swing of the door once again knocked over the shopping baskets, excluding the one he walked out with.

Ma did a few things when he left as soon as she was sure she couldn't hear his footsteps in the distance.

First, she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Second, she put the rest of the change in the cashier.

Third, she scoured the path he walked, looking desperately for a speck, an atom of that chicken or its droppings.

Once she was content that her store was clean, she, Fourth, went to go holler at Pa.

During this entire exchange, Pa, the doting husband of Ma for fifty years, was only visible as the back of a head outlined by the white glow of the television he was watching. Normally the two ran the shop together, but during their long periods of down time he liked to watch the TV while his wife read her stories. They kept the TV in the backroom, so he wouldn't be tempted to watch it on the job.

In any other circumstance he would get up and go to the front counter with his wife when he heard the little bell of the door. When Ma opened the backroom's door fully, he was still glued to the TV's screen.

She grabs him by his shoulders, dragging him towards the phone at the counter.

"Henry, I don't know why you didn't come in, but there was a hippy in our store, and he robbed us! I want you to get on that telephone and call the sheriff right now-"

"Judith-"

"He just left, but mark my words I bet he's heading to Chicago-"

"Judith-"

"Oh, I was this close, this close to getting the broom out and walloping him-"

"Judith there's something on the tele-"

"Yes Henry? Yes, I bet you know all about it. Honestly, the way you were looking at it, you'd think it married you instead-"

"You need to see this honey-"

"Oh, and he's got some damned chicken from the Hicken's farm, I don't know what he's planning on doing with it, but mark my words it's nothing good-"

"JUDITH."

Pa shouts, making the entire store seem so much more silent. Ma makes to get at him but stops when she notices the shell-shocked expression on his face. He looked more scared than he'd ever been in his life. Taking his wife by the arm, he shows her to the backroom, to the tiny black and white screen.

Images and videos flash across it, every channel dominated by the same headlines. 'MONSTERS SEEN ACROSS AMERICA', 'SEA-LINER TORN APART', 'WEIRD SYMBOLS SEEN IN SKY', 'GIANT FIGURES STAND OVER LONDON' and countless more. On their own local station, the reporter acts on instinct, relaying all the news in a stammering panic. Monstrous beings and supernatural entities are being spotted all over the world, with disasters playing out in real-time. Volcanoes, earthquakes, tidal waves, storms, it's as if the very earth were waking up and releasing beasts from beneath the surface. Tears dot the reporter's eyes as news of carnage slowly devolves into unintelligible sobbing at the last headline, 'THE END OF THE WORLD'.

This all goes unheard. Soon the reporter falls onto the ground like the couple in their store. A sound tears across the sky, louder than anything in the world. Ma and Pa clutch their ears as they feel their own skeletons vibrate in tune with the sky's scream. All they can do is watch deafened from the floor at the other's expressions of pain, holding each other close.

Outside on the highway, cars have stopped, many crashing into each other. Drivers and passengers alike release horrified screams as they begin to feel the universe's dying moans drill into their skulls. Hundreds of thoughts swirl together, thoughts of the terrible, imminent end to life as they knew it, all suddenly realizing that they were unprepared for it. In their car-seats children wail with their parents, unable to come to understand the finality of life, but still just as scared. Of all the people in the road, only one can hear it all.

Locke walks down towards the city in the distance, ignoring the screams. All the panic choking the hearts of the mortals on the highway is, to him, one more straw on the proverbial camel's back. It'd take more than that to break his camel. He hadn't spent a literal century sitting on his ass to run around screaming like a baby after the first sign of the end of the world. Besides, the world wasn’t ending. He would know if it were ending. It was simply getting more interesting.

The hen can't hear it either. To her, humans were doing weird, distressing human things. Rainwater plasters her feathers down, making her a sodden heap unable to escape the creature’s grasp.

Locke tests out his reflection in the shiny black window of a truck lying upended in a ditch. To the best of his ability he can't see his own eyes past the rainbow reflection.

The man who was driving the truck begins trying to crawl through the window, cutting himself on the broken glass. Locke does not try to help him.

"These things are a damn life-saver."

He once again models them for himself, but the glasses fall off the bridge of his nose to the grass. Locke gets on his knees and gropes around for them.

Once he stands up, he finds the dominoes still in their place.

"Gonna have to do something about that."

Locke walks past the people, recovering from their twenty seconds of utter hell. They take no notice of him and he does likewise. Blood fills the nostrils of the hen, who begins wiggling in his grasp. The grip on her tightens, doing nothing to calm her down but making her move around less.

With a knife, which he did indeed steal from Ma and Pa, Locke carves a few tiny symbols into the thick temples of the glasses without looking at them.

After they're drawn, he takes the hen's neck and makes a slight incision on her forehead. Blood pools fast as he wets his finger in the red liquid. The minuscule symbols are coated in a small layer of blood, activating, so to speak.

Locke bends down ninety degrees, yet the glasses stay on. He shoots back up, throwing his head from side to side, and they stay glued to his face.

"Perfect."

Today would have been perfect too, were it not for Walsh. He’d had the entire day planned and all it took was his dumb ass to sour it all for Locke.

Light shone through the clouds.

By coincidence, rainbow-shaded lenses looked up and met their match. Further along the road, the clouds were clearing from Toledo and the rain met with the sun, forming a real rainbow. From where he stood it looked like the bridge to a new era.

Locke smiled. Oh well. It wouldn’t do to let one little mortal ruin his big day. Now that his punishment was over, it was time to show all those assholes what a real bad guy looked like. First though, he had to go take his purchases and make a few calls down-under.

And Locke didn't know any Australians.

#short story #literature #prologue #tdg #locke #devil #demon #satan #apocalypse #armageddon #halloween #acronym pending #now with cover art

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one-lucky-clover · 7 years

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Character Info

NOTE: Characters that are available for roleplay will have an icon below their info. The Girls Clover "Lady Luck" Finley

"Clover is a kindhearted, and charitable individual by nature who uses her lucky streak to give away to others. Though there's a fiery kick to her, one that craves adventure. For this reason she often goes out by night to partake in "un-lady-like" activities such as drinking, dancing, gambling, and driving automobiles."

Age-wise she's in her mid 20's

Her father is the Mayor.

An only child, sees Ruby as like the sister she never had.

Her parasol doubles as a physical weapon. That spike on the top is that long and sharp for a reason. It is almost always on her somewhere, even when she's in her flapper attire.

Her parasol also allows brief flight (ala Mary Poppins)

Loves to eat, especially sweets.

Never expect pound cake or cookies to last long with her around.

Favorite Beverage is Apple Cider (And Hard Cider).

Also a big fan of finger foods.

Extremely protective of those she cares about.

Especially Bonnie, Odette, Ruby, and Buster.

100% not afraid to fight anyone to protect them.

Works running "Good Fortune Daycare" during the day, and acts as the Bouncer/Entertainment at Ruby's at night

Sings up on stage.

A Novice Dancer. Bonnie is helping her become a better dancer.

Usually Bonnie performs with her.

She and Blaise were once childhood friends. Though a large gap between morals has caused them to drift apart.

Clover HATES him.

Doesn't know who her mother is. Her father doesn't like to talk about it.

While she enjoys recreational gambling, her lucky streak has caused her to get banned from a few casinos.

Do not gamble with her, that is a mistake.

Is currently dating Buster.

BATIM Fanon Wiki Page

Roleplay Icon(s):

Ruby Rabbit

"Ruby is a motherly, yet blunt bunny who is the bartender and runner of 'Ruby's.' She loves to listen to the stories of others and offer a supportive, sympathetic shoulder to lean on. During the day she assists Clover in running 'Good Fortune Daycare'."

A fabulous cook and drink mixer. She makes everything served at her bar.

Considered to be the “Mother” of the group.

Clover may be the brawn of the group, but Ruby is someone not to be trifled with either.

Clover is her dearest friend and she would do anything to protect her.

Protective in general.

Bold, Soulful singer. You’ll be surprised how big of a singer she is for how petite she is in size.

Bright and Cunning.

Roses are her favorite flower.

BATIM Fanon Wiki Page

Roleplay Icon(s):

Odette the Cat

"Odette was once Clover's beloved pet cat, turned toon by the Wicked Witch Wilda. She is affectionate, clingy, mischievous, and childish usually sticking close to Clover. She loves asking questions and letting her curiosity get the better of her."

Though her age as a toon is unknown she's considered a child.

Loves to play with the children at the daycare.

Not the best when it comes to "nap-time"

Doesn't usually help with the speakeasy, usually stays home. Tends to make a mess of things otherwise.

Enjoys Tuna and Burgers.

Hates Lemons and Cucumbers.

Clingy with Clover, will sometimes cling to her if she doesn't like someone.

Has super sharp claws under her claws she can use as a tool or weapon.

Since she was originally a non-toon cat, she has the ability to speak with other non-toon cats.

not known at this time if this extends to other animals.

Purrs very, VERY loudly when she's happy.

Love giving people things she finds. Sometimes they're nice things. Sometimes not.

Has a very naive, optimistic view of the world.

But much, much more intelligent than she lets on.

Bonnie The Angel

"Bonnie is a sweet, compassionate, animal-adoring angel who loves to sing. The poor angel has a bad habit of falling into plights of peril and needing to be rescued. She was originally hired to be the female counterpart to Bendy before being replaced by Alice Angel. While Bonnie tries to stay optimistic, she often worries she will be forgotten about."

Can use her singing to attract animal helpers (ala a disney princess.)

Her singing also has the ability to calm others, including Clover.

Her singing is just magically potent in general.

Literally the most pure character in the group.

Naive and can be easily mislead.

The other members of the group are extremely protective of her because of this.

Is in charge of the Nursery at the daycare.

Great with animals and children.

Sweetheart, easily touched by others stories and extremely compassionate.

Somewhat of a crybaby

Very Thoughtful and often surprises others with gifts.

Honestly only the heartless beings could ever get angry at an angel like Bonnie.

Very gentle and passive, probably the only member of the group who doesn’t have any capacity to fight.

Loves baking, cooking, and cleaning.

Sometimes assists Ruby Rabbit with whatever she’s making.

Nickname is "Bon-Bon," mostly used by Clover.

Roleplay Icon(s):

The Guys

Buster the Demon

“Buster is the Older Brother of Bendy. Like his brother, he’s quite mischievous and often happens into trouble. However he’s usually not the one causing it, and often relies on his own cunning to outwit whatever situation he’s in. In fact he’s quite cocky and boastful about the things he can do. Despite this, he’s a well-intentioned goofball who loves nothing more than making others laugh.”

Is essentially the Oswald to Bendy’s Mickey

He is big on slapstick and quite hardy.

Sometimes works at the Bar as entertainment

Loves to tease and mess with his little brother, but still loves him dearly

Won’t tolerate anyone trying to pick on him.

Buster is a bruiser, his trademark weapon is a wooden mallet that he pulls out of hammerspace.

Despite this he tries to solve most of his problems by outsmarting his foes.

Definitely a mastermind when it comes to coming up with plans.

Is dating Clover.

Will happily tell you how much he loves his girlfriend.

BATIM Fanon Wiki Page

Roleplay Icon(s):

Secondary Characters

Blaise

"A Charming, Charismatic, Wealthy, Successful, and Princely guy with the voice of an... well, you know. However with his fame and fortune has come an air of superiority and privilege. There's more to this fella than his angelic looks."

Clover and he were childhood friends.

Clover absolutely hates him now. However Blaise still persists to pursue her as a suitor.

A rival to Bendy and to Buster.

He acts very “Higher than Thou.”

Mayor Finley

"Ernest Finley is the cheerful, sociable mayor of town and Clover's father. He loves keeping a presence, knowing what's best for his citizens and offering all he can to better the town he runs. Though the mayor's giving nature makes him to be a target of advantage-taking causing Clover to worry about him constantly."

Clover's Father

Clover refers to him as "Papa,""Father," or "Pops"

Loves his daughter with all his heart.

Can be cowardly in some cases, but absolutely will not tolerate anyone trying to threaten his daughter.

Loves to give rousing speeches.

Can play the piano, loves the sound of the instrument.

Approved and helped to Fund the Daycare. Is semi-aware of the speakeasy and chooses to stay out of it.

Grim Skeleton

"Grim is a foil to bendy. Whereas while bendy is a Cheerful troublemaker, Grim is simply a happy-go-lucky chap who happens upon trouble wherever he goes. Often his cartoons involve him in plights of peril, even ones where he’s completely oblivious to the dangers around him as he goes about his merry way. Oblivious is certainly one word for him, the other being a trifle spineless... despite being a literal skeleton."

Is the Donald Duck to Bendy’s Mickey in the sense that he is his Foil, and opposite.

Has a tendency to be forgetful.

And Oblivious.

Drives Bella crazy

Loves Sandwiches.

A pure gentlemen.

Absolutely in love with his darling Bella.

Bella Skeleton

"Bella is a darling. She’s always up to date on the latest trends and fashions, and loves to lavish in the splendor of the finer things in life. She likes to organize and plan things out, often being the one to help grim keep track of his daily tasks. Though at times she can be a bit prissy and picky. As well as fussy towards Grim, though he doesn’t mind. He absolutely adores her and would do anything to keep a smile on her face."

A fashionista.

Loves gossip, and advice.

Often visits the girls at the day care or even the bar just to chat about current events.

Bella is great for Intel, somehow she just finds out everything. Even before someone knows it.

Perhaps it’s really good intuition.

Hates getting dirty, always carries extra makeup and backup clothing.

Quite charmed by Grim.

Wilda Witch (Also sometimes called "Wicked Witch Wilda")

"Wilda is a cruel, bitter old witch who loves torment just about anyone. She rides around on her broom where she casts strange spells on unsuspecting victims. No one knows why she loves being so cruel, though rumors say she genuinely gets a kick out of being a pain."

Despises Clover for her lucky streak. Once used magic to steal it away from her, but after a long string of shenanigans Clover managed to get her luck back.

Also once used her magic to steal Alice’s Voice.

A rotten apple to her core.

Loves to show up at the worst times.

Responsible for essentially any "Magical Anons" This blog receives.

Cupid the Angel

"Cupid is... well, Cupid! The angel of Love who brings peace and harmony to everyone! The chip, optimistic guys is actually Bonnie’s older brother, and a surprisingly close friend of Bendy’s as well. Mindful, experienced, and clever in his own right. Cupid is the (Almost) perfect Matchmaker!”

Canon Characters

(Note: This section is for already-existing BATIM/BINR characters from the games that are characterized or developed in ways that may go outside of what actually happens in canon. Usually are secondary characters.)

Dewey Inkwell

“Dewey is a big, quiet, and kind of imposing guy whose in charge of the Library in town. He once tried to bury Bendy in ink when he caused a ruckus at his establishment. Though after being confronted by Clover, and seeing the level of destruction caused to the Library by his outburst, he’s begun trying to managing his anger. The Inkwell might be a grumpy guy in general, but he’s hoping to get a second chance to prove he’s more than a monster.”

Very quiet by nature. It can make him seem a lot more imposing and intimidating as he’s already a big guy.

Only really gets loud when he’s angry.

Is currently seeing an Anger Management Counselor to deal with his temper after the events of “Dewey Decimated.”

Grumpy seems to be his default mood either way.

Is secretly a big softy, he hides a lot off his feelings under a very intimidating-looking shell.

Not very good about managing his feelings.

Not the most social guy. Spends most of his time at the Library where he feels most himself

Very passionate about reading a book preservation, as well as reading and phonetic education.

Lets Ruby and Clover bring the kids to the library to read on Wednesday for that reason.

His Tommy Ink Gun shoots both ink and feather quills.

No one knows how he even acquired something like that. Most of them assume the source wasn’t good.

Minor Characters

Kids at the Daycare

#Cast

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