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writingsofmyimagination · 4 years

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Conjecture |13| The Final

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Links to other parts: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |11|12|

Last Chapter guys.... thank you for everyone that has liked and commented.... it means an awful lot. :)

Hope you guys have enjoyed the series.

Words:3304

Rating:18+

Warnings: SMUT!! (Slight exhibitionism maybe) Swearing. General sass.

Permanent Tags: @msunnsstuff @rosey-roseu @eyelessmin @backtonormalthings

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The leather straps were cooling across your chest; just as the strap was tight across your hips. You struggled, the buckles keeping you firmly stuck to the table. The white lights quietly warming the rest of your bare exposed skin. Your obliques teasing their way to the surface as you wriggled against your restraints. Cut here scissor lines decorated across the most common places women dislike about themselves. Crescents at your side, inner thighs, cupping your breast. Two figures hovering over you, crazed hunger filled looks scanning your being.

Lee Jooheon was stood over you in pale blue scrubs beneath a pearly white lab coat littered with scruffy black writing. He was stood menacing in the wielding of a scalpel while conversing animatedly with the person next to him. Im Changkyun was dressed to the brim in a perfectly fitted black suit wielding a clipboard with a picture of a barbie on. IM was shoving his fingers to the picture and then to you. Jooheon nodding intently in agreeance, scalpel still active in the air.

“CUT!” The director called. A bell vibrating round the warehouse. Jooheon immediately tearing the Velcro under the fake buckles and rushing to reach under the table for the large white dressing gown placed discreetly under the table. The basic black lace lingerie set was the only thing covering you as you hauled yourself off the table before coating yourself in white fluff.

“You good?” Changkyun asked lightly supporting you to your feet.

“All good” you affirmed.

“That was great guys, a clear cut. Scene done in one. We’ll get the stage set up and do the combined verse and Y/N’s solo then we’ll call it a day” The director confirmed. All you heard was

Break time

The three of you b-lined straight for the snack table. The crew around you slowly setting down their equipment to follow suit. A mini swarm of black tee’d crew descended onto the set working quickly to dismantle the makeshift operating room and prepare the next set.

“Glad I can finally put some clothes on” selecting the bag of wotsits crinkling over your words.

“Never thought I’d hear you say that” Yoongi’s voice creeped in from behind. The other two chuckled into their mouthfuls of carbs. Without even eyeing him your trajectory already planned to slap his arm on your rotation round. The Acne studios hat comfy on his head, the blue grey hair pressed to his forehead. Long black sweater draped over loose wash out ripped jeans which were tucked into hi top vans.

There’s a comfy boyfriend right there

“Never thought I’d see you conscious before lunch on a day off” you quipped back.

“Alright… it’s too early for your sass” Yoongi said in defeat to your ear, his arms encasing the shield of fluff around you with the sweet extra of a kiss to the forehead. His camera gentle in sway to your hip, the leather strap resting on his shoulder.

“Loved the set though” he added

More like loved the fact I was strapped down

“I’m literally kidnapping this Dr’s coat” Jooheon flicked the collar up of the coat.

Dweeb

“It’s such a cool concept” Jooheon added

“More female artists need to be speaking out about the image pressures companies force” Changkyun piped up.

“It’s 2020 dude, guys can write about it too you know” you teased

“There’s ten times more pressure on you guys though”

He was right. Your concept was the bomb though. You and your image held hostage by the agency only for you to rebel against them all accompanied by some aggressive thought-provoking rap.

What more does a girl want?

“And we’re here doing this project with you so we technically are” Changkyun added.

Also true

“You also know I wouldn’t have you let say no” One of the runners dropped your outfit off to you. You both exchanged silent polite glances.

Mid conversation you held no reservations, untying your robe. It slid off your shoulders Yoongi saving it from the floor. You shrugged on the tight-fitting scrub top. The top conveniently had slits through the fabric. Making its function as a top dubious at best. The shorts were free from any intentional rips and were nice and basic. Yoongi’s eyes flitted briefly to the ground, gaze not sure where to settle. You were still getting used the fact he wasn’t as comfortable with your skin on show as you were. Multiple times you’d teased him at how awkward and polite he still was when you were actually his.

“Are you sure you just didn’t want an opportunity to tie your two favourite rappers to a chair? Beside me of course” Yoongi teased as your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, mouth agape hand delicate finishing a perfect cat flick on your eyeliner.

“Jealous?” You paused the application of your makeup while teasing, the flicks won’t be ruined for anybody. Eye contact cheekily held in place.

He leaned in just a tad, enough to make his words inaudible to the fanfare around.

“Babe, you know I wish it was me. Just at home, with less clothes. You in that set I love, ooo and the way you love to ride me like that…” You shoved him away.

“Alright alright enough, don’t tease. Go over there and behave” You indicated with your pinky finger behind the camera. Puckering your blood red lipstick equally, crew swift in moving out of your way as you stepped up onto the newly built mini stage.

A lonely microphone on the small rectangular stage was all to keep you company. The two boys looking calm, jovial in their conversation to each other as you adjusted the stand to your height. Yoongi trying to shield a half-cocked smile. You flipped him off. He always liked to tease your height.

He’s not even got much on me, cheeky shit

“Ready on set!” The director boomed. Crew obedient falling silently in a heartbeat.

“Action!”

The strongly worded verse and chorus were the first lyrics you’d scribbled down in some painful PR meeting. The topic of you and your body image and how they wanted to sell it was just slowly infuriating you. You were an Idol, rapper whatever people called you now. This shit comes with the territory but the way they guy was talking about you just ruffled about every damn feather in your being.

The bell rang again and the major scuffling on set commenced. You jumped off the stage and raced to Chloe who’d returned from taking Ted for a walk. Completely bypassing Yoongi, dropping to your knees and ruffling the ball of excited fluff.

“Hey boy” you cooed, scratching the belly after the desperate drop and roll he gave you.

“Dude he wanted to play with evvveerryyyone today”

“Well he was probably excited to hang out with auntie Chlo”

“You love him” you added

“I can’t even lie about that; can your assistant be on holiday more often?” His attention quickly became focused

“You would get me into soo much trouble if you were my assistant”

“But you’d have the best time” The pair of you laughed knowing she was absolutely right.

“I’ll catch you in a bit” Giving Ted once last squeeze before you went to makeup.

All paint removed; hair now styled to perfection. Makeup fairly natural and light, the artist dabbing a pad around your cheeks catching any moisture. Heavily ripped boyfriend jeans sat at your hips finishing just at the lower end of your calves. Pristine snug white trainers cushioned the weariness of your feet. You had to change your underwear to a white set as to not show through the thin white tie up crop top. You secured the tie at your chest, even Yoongi would have to work at undoing the knot.

“Ready?” the director popped his head round the door. You responded with a bright mumble as you were mid swig of your water bottle.

“Sweet, we rolling in three”

“Seriously, how did I land you?” Yoongi purred making his way into the office converted dressing room. The artist leaving the room promptly.

“Looks good right” You agreed, puckering your lips in the mirror.

“Mmmhhhmm” he growled low at your neck; hands secured round the front of your stomach. The warm body pressed up against you.

“I love when you dress more casual” His fingertips elegant in their tip toe over your curved behind, etching their impatient way to the tie in the centre of your chest.

“Oi! Keep your hands to yourself” A weak willed play fight broke out. Yoongi going straight for where you were ticklish; leaving you completely vulnerable to him manoeuvring you round to face him.

“Careful Min Yoongi, don’t be getting yourself worked up for something you can’t have”

“Can’t have?” If stroppy pouts could melt you, you’d be in a puddle right now.

“Last I remembered you invited the boys round to mine for a recording sesh” Your stroke on his chin phased his eyes to roll regrettably.

“Pretty sure you regret giving Hobi the key now ey?” you crept the words in his ear, pressing your hand to his crotch. His cheeks puffed up, sulking against your smirk poorly disguised through your mouthfuls of water leaving the pouty boy in the dressing room.

The pout was a constant tell as much as he tried to hide behind the lenses capturing the formidable stage unit the three of you formed. The multiple takes had a thin layer of perspiration gracing the foundation on your skin. The second the final bell rang through the metal interior the three of you took a breath, or several before you bowed to all the staff before embracing the two guys. The make-up artist rushed over to where you’d sat drooping your legs on the temporary stage, padding at your face. You shooed her off prematurely, not bothering with how wisps of hair were loosely stuck to your skin.

“That looks ace, thank you so much guys!” You exclaimed bright as possible. The three of you snug crowded round one of the main cameras

“It was a pleasure” Their eyes both drifted off to their manager who’d stepped in a bit closer

“Well that’s our cue to leave” Changkyun mumbled the drop in his face noticeable but not obvious.

“That’s fine, don’t get yourself into trouble”

��Give him ten minutes” Jooheon quipped.

You’d changed into a cool and floaty navy maxi dress. You’d fought and brushed as much product out of your hair as you could and shoved it in a loose pony. With only a few of the crew left on site, the wide-open space of the rooms seemed much larger, sound travelled heavier and echoed more. Yoongi was a picture holding your large D&G holdall glitzed with the gold emblem. He held the door for you leading into the drafty stairway. The grey concrete bleak, the bright blue railings guiding their way safely down. The walls were drab and plain.

You held out your hand, offering to relieve your boyfriend of the oversized bag from his slight frame. He began to oblige, eyes not wandering from his phone. His wrist caught in your hand yanking him into you and into the back of the wall. Did he resist? Absolutely not. Did he need any more guidance, most certainly not!

“Babe…”

“Mmm” humming in between your chest where his head and kisses were firmly being planted.

“Touch me already” your arms were loose as they draped over his shoulders.

“Seriously here?” It was more of a check than a complaint. Strong eyebrow raised.

Fucking yes

The hem of your dress slowly crept up your leg, crumpling up over his hand. His lips nearly caressing yours, the warmth of his breath rolling over your skin. The knowing smile escaped onto your features

“Fuck babe!”

“What?...mmm” your tone creeping higher feigning innocence. His fingers ghosting at the apex of your thighs. The bundle of nerves buzzing at the slight contact, he brushed his cheek to yours

“It’s too warm for underwear” you whined, still pleading innocence. Yoongi knew better, knew the lack of innocence you actually held.

“I’m calling bullshit” Your head gently rolled back into the wall.

“I’m reallllyy not complaining…” he added pushing a bit more of his weight into you, growling into your neck. Your grip tightening round his neck.

“Well let’s play a game of hurry the…mmm fuck up” you urged, teasing his fingers hard against you. The way his hips jutted feeling the rush of how much you wanted him. With the heat combusting through the heavy kisses, the air was thick and blissfully suffocating. Engulfed in heat he dragged your body round. It was your turn to be shoved hard against the cool concrete

“Careful…” you choked between laboured breathes.

“You’ll give yourself a problem we won’t have time to fix”

“My only problem is not hearing you moan my name” Aggressive hands crept back round the front hoisting your dress back up.

Metal clinked; voices echoed. Heartbeat petrified still in your chest.

Innocent coughs smuggling smiles, arms linked as the last of the camera crew polite in their bow as the gave passage to you.

“Thank you, you worked hard” you responded in kind as Yoongi let you take the lead single file past the biggest cock blockers of the year.

“UUUGGHH” you whined slamming your head back into the head rest as Yoongi parked the Land rover in your bay in the gated underground parking of your building.

“I’m soo sorry babe, you know I want to finish this track with Hobi and Joon…I promise I’ll make you…What are you doing?”

Knitted eyebrows with brown pools twinkling with rare mischief that only glistened with you. Like the first time he decided to be brave and go down on you in a dressing room. He’d missed you a hell of a lot, too much apparently for even unbothered Yoongi to take control.

You’d shuffled and maneuvered yourself to the back seat dropping to the chair with a success filled sigh.

“I don’t want to wait until later” A teasing lip bite was all he needed to be scrambling into the backseat to join you. The tinted windows offering you more privacy than what waited for you in the apartment.

“And what I want I get” Your legs were already snug on either side of his hips

“Don’t I know it” His hands already ruffling up your dress as your hands dived desperate to unhook his jean buttons.

You secured his hands round the back of the head rest

“Stay” you urged; hands remained obedient as yours went to elicit controlled groans from his throat as your hand wrapped around him. The need between your legs grew, your bites of his lower lip grew harder, hips rocking against a frustrating nothing. Your ponytail got pulled back sharply. Yoongi apparently had enough of you torturing yourself and him

“Turn around and let me feel you now”

“My hands not good enough for you anymore?”

“Not when I know your just desperate for my cock”

Fair point

Agreeing with complete compliance, invested in his way of thinking. You swept your hair to the front of your shoulder. Following a hard grunt, a deep wet kiss was pressed to shoulder blade you needed to take a beat adjusting to him.

“Mmpphh” you both grunted, head falling forward. Hand grappling behind looking to hook onto any part of him. Palm closing in on his thin waist. Circle movements heavy in your hip

“Better? Is that all my baby wanted hmm?”

“Mmmhmm…Just you” you choked as his hips jutted upwards.

“Yeah?” hair weaved in the long genius fingers tugged hard lips, soft teeth not so on your neck.

“Use me then”

Oh I’m going to

His hand not leaving your hair, hips refusing to offer you anything. The filth Yoongi whispered in controlled pants still offered the motivation for your movements. Every time Yoongi felt the tensing of your thighs or your moans reached a certain pitch too high he couldn’t help but buck up into you. The dusting of a chuckle would ease in through his grunts at your cries.

He wanted to tease. The grip in your hair, the honey on his smirk and the slight growl in the background of his words told you that. Min Yoongi was now unbothered about keeping his friends waiting.

Not today

“Min Yoongi if you don’t make me…mmm… cum in the next 10 minutes…fuuuck” His fingers now tight between your legs, each burst of movement causing you to clench round him with a desperate tension.

“Your body is telling me you need a lot less than ten princess. I certainly don’t”

“Prove it” you challenged. A Challenge you knew he’d destroy in minutes. The air seemed to dissipate from the car, the heat instead hovering round the two of you. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin. Legs beginning to store the tension building up like Jenga blocks in your muscles. Back arching into him forming the perfect crescent. Your moans escalating both in pitch and volume rattled through his brain, trickling in hot drips down his spine adding the pressure within him to breaking point. A breaking point which spilled over before he could gain any control. The hand secured round your pony tail released and dropped to your shoulders with his head following suit, a few heavy breaths later

“I’m sorry… baby, you just feel too good”

“Turn around again baby”

“Do I need to do some more training with you? Your stamina is …” you teased hasty in your shuffle round, hasty to not let your climax slip to nothing.

“Probably” he confessed

“Thought…Mmhmm”

“Just be quiet and let me make you cum”.

The tips of Yoongi’s hair were damp, you tried to ruffle it but the damp ends still reflected against the midday sun. Your selfie camera informed you that out of the two of you, you were the only one that didn’t look like they’d just fucked in a car. Unfortunately for Yoongi his face always flushes a cute tinted light red. He hated it. You thought it was hilarious.

“Will you please do a better job of not smirking, you know how observant Hobi is” Yoongi scolded, amusement drained from his face.

“Sorry…” you chuckled. You passed your hand over your face, smirk disappearing. Normal face trying to hold while your hand pressed down on the handle. You were met with silence for a few seconds before you had Ted bounding for you. Soon followed by Joon and Hobi who had been sat on their phones on the sofa. The TV was a silent black.

“I said you guys can treat this as your own space when you’re here, no need to sit in silence” You reminded half chuckling swiping Ted off his feet into your arms.

“I know, I know” Joon acknowledged.

“Sorry we were late, shoot ran over” Ted was put back to scrambling excitedly at your feet as you maneuvered your way to the fridge. Your eyes shot to Hobi, controlled by the unconscious notion if anyone was going to pick up on your white lie it would be him. His eyes were hovering on Yoongi for more than they should.

“It’s alright we get it” With Hobi’s smile being as sweet and as kind as it was. It was hard to decipher.

“You guys okay to chill for like five more minutes while I grab a quick shower” Yoongi checked.

“I’ll even but the TV on for you” he added. At this point you’d already disappeared and enjoying the hot water streaming across your skin.

“Sure, don’t let that run over too though” Hobi jested emphasising the ‘run’.

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #bts #mygsnet #yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts smut #BTS suga #conjecture

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morphituu · 5 years

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‘Milagro’ Sneak-peek

The first posts ‘Keep Reading’ stopped working (how surprising) so I had to re-upload.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Nick sat forward, the destroyed building starting to come into view, and both of the officers jaws hung.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” Ward chanted below his breath, skidding to a halt beside the countless other patrol cars surrounding the ravaged building. It wasn’t just the piles of concrete and small fires that still billowed into the sky- it was the pools of gelatinous, glowing fire-like goo that swarmed small pieces of it, moving in centralized patterns like maggots.

It was everywhere, and beside it were countless MTF authorities, dressed in radicalized hazmat suits, literally shoveling it into reinforced barrels.

The men stumbled aimlessly for a bit, taking it all in. The victims screaming in ambulances, the glowing goo constricting their limbs, and others in body bags being brought from the rubble.

There were also Brezziks slipping in, their sly hands snatching fallen jewelry or goods under everyone’s radar.

Nick turned, watching two officials carry away a barrel that hummed lowly, the Geiger Counters at their hips clicking wildly.

“What the fuck-“ Nick exhaled sharply.

“Officers!”

They spotted Kandomere, and for once, there wasn’t much that was prim or proper about his appearance. His typical elegant suit was replaced with more… casual clothes, the sleeves to his button up rolled to the elbow and his hair pulled back. The dirt covering him pointed to him having gone through the rubble himself, but neither men could fathom him doing such a thing.

“What happened?” Ward questioned urgently.

“She was here, but for what reason we don’t know,” Kandomere said evenly, quickly scripting his signature across a clipboard when handed to him. “Someone else is with her, and I think they dueled here,”

“Dueled?” Nick barked.

“You see that?” The elf pointed to glowing goo, a small puddle close to them. “That’s Wand Plasma. It’s the cast off of a Battle Spell, a very powerful spell. No other charm or even enchantment gives it off. She was fighting someone else with a wand,”

“So there’s definitely more than one wand in LA,”

“Definitely. The reason as to who she’s battling, and why she is though is without answer. Both have only left clues such as this behind to indicate they’re even here. We have nothing,” Kandomere concluded, overlooking the disaster before them.

They continued to look on, the longer they observed, the more destruction they took in. Nick started noticing blood splattered here and there while Ward watched them bring out a smaller body bag, one easily held in someone’s arms.

“I’m leaving LA,” Nick stated, nodding to himself. “I’m not gonna be here for this shit again,”

“Right behind you,” Ward nodded, hand on his belt.

“Neither of you are going anywhere,”

They both turned, meeting the critical, icy blue gaze.

“Excuse me?”

“Neither of you can leave. We need to know where you both are at all times in case she tries to make contact,” Kandomere explained.

“Fuck that,” Nick spat, turning to leave.

“If you leave I’ll have your badge revoked,”

Nick spun on his heel, stomping back. Ward shouted to calm down when he shoved past his own body, barely able to keep Nick withheld as he stood chest to chest with Kandomere.

“Then fucking take it. I’m not going to sit here and let her roll up on me or my family,” he snarled viciously, but the elf was unfazed.

“Then who do you expect to help if she does?”

“If I leave she can’t! So take or do whatever the fuck you want but I’m not risking our lives or my child's just to make your job easier!” Nick hollered, barely restrained by Ward.

“I am giving you a direct order to stay in LA! If you so much as step outside of city limits I’ll make sure you’re buried in the deepest hole of solitary confinement for the rest of your life!” Kandomere was booming back now, his face twisted into a rage he’d repressed for months.

“Try and stop me! Try and fucking stop me-“

“Nick enough! Back the fuck off!” Ward was yelling over him, shoving harshly against the furious Orcs chest, but moving him was like pushing a raging bull- damn near impossible, and maybe just enough antagonization to get him to push back. “Just stop!” Ward finally silenced him, only moving his hands when Nick turned to chuff and snarl loudly to himself, his hands upon his head.

“Why can’t we leave? If she hasn’t contacted us yet then why can’t we just fucking go? It would be one less thing for you to keep an eye on,” Ward tried to reason, but Kandomere only shook his head.

“You know exactly why, Officer Ward,” he at first said calmly before stepping closer. “She’s going to try and put a wand in your hand. If she’s Inferni, she’s going to recruit you,”

“Who says I’d go?”

“Wands bring power, and with power comes corruption. Don’t underestimate that,”

Ward’s face was taut in restricted fury, choosing to look away. “So what, we wait for her to come at us? What then?”

“If she does she’ll fall right into our hands. We’ve had teams following you both for weeks,”

“Us? Just us? What about our families?” Nick stepped in, eyes wild with worry. “If her sister knows how to take people down to follow a path to who she wants, who’s saying she doesn’t know how either?”

“We don’t have that kind of disposable man-power-“

“Then find it! I have a fucking baby on the way! My girlfriend- my future wife is home alone and you’re telling me there’s no one there to keep an eye on her?! What about his wife and daughter!? How well is your plan going if she attacks them and not us?!” Nick bellowed, but Daryl didn’t push him away this time. This was another dark door opening up, revealing shady dealings behind the scenes.

“You two are main priority-”

“If you want us to cooperate then fucking work with us!” Nick finished, chuffing loudly in his face. Nick looked down on him until Kandomere took a step back, uncaring of the fellow officers watching them or the onlookers gawking.

“Because if anything happens to my girl, or my child, I will rip you into pieces. I don’t care if you don’t know what it is to have someone- stop treating us like we’re disposable. We have lives outside of this shit,” Nick ground out, his menacing form lingering a few seconds longer before turning hotly on his heel.

The cold, steely expression had returned to his tired eyes, as did the rigid manner in the way he stood. If there was ever a time Ward has seen Kandomere intimidated, it was Nick getting in his face.

“He’s right. You both are, but he’s more right. If you want us to work with you, then work with us,” Daryl reiterated, stepping back to follow Nick.

“He’s not entirely right,” Kandomere informed, fixing his rolled sleeves. “Leila killed my husband 30 years ago. Don’t tell me I don’t know what it means to have someone lost.”

Ward was left, standing amongst the burning rubble and curious eyes, and admittedly surprised; it explained the resilience, and persistence to end this. The kind of loathing he must’ve had for those sisters must’ve been unbearable, or perhaps just the opposite. That very contempt could’ve been what drove him to see an end to this, no matter how much he had to withstand to see it through.

His attention turned to the few left still watching. “Mind your own.” he snapped, waving his hand. Still a few pair of eyes following, but became an afterthought once finding Nick inside the SUV, his elbow rested against the window and biting his thumb nail nervously.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Ward cautioned, but Nick’s knee kept bouncing. “If you try n’ run off with Callie they’re gonna find you before you hit Anaheim,”

“It’s worth a shot,” Nick battled.

Ward sat forward, inclined enough to finally catch his partners line of sight. “Then what? You gonna leave your girl with a newborn you’ll never see? You won’t even get visitations or calls. You’ll go the rest of your life wondering what your baby’ll look like or who it’s callin’ daddy,”

Nick’s brows were knit together in a deep scowl, the shake of his head barely noticeable.

“This sucks. It fucking sucks but don’t do something that’s gonna drag on past her finally being caught. Don’t do that to your family.” Ward scolded, no room for debate in his somber tone or unmoving grimace.

Everything in Nick wanted to pack up Callie and run- to leave as far away as they could until this nightmare was over… but Ward was right. He was acting on fear without thinking of the lasting effects. He couldn’t leave Callie alone if what Kandomere had threatened him with held any truth.

Ward’s hand squeezing his shoulder offered comfort when Nick’s face fell into his palms, but agony was just below the surface.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Milagro’s debut is June 21st- only 2 weeks away!

Thank you to everyone who has stuck around this far and hello to any new readers who may be stopping in! I’ll be primarily posting on Ao3 where there’s already a slot ready for it’s uploads, but will also be posting to tumblr again (assuming I can fit in the chapters cause of that stupid text block restriction)

A special, loving thank you to @rfitzhugh74- for being my beta-reader and dealing with my needy ass in regards to writing and my paranoia. You’ve become such a special person to me 🖤

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pi-cat000 · 5 years

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MSA: Winged Arthur AU (part 2)

NOTE: I’ve done Ghost-Arthur and Time travel-Arthur, now it’s time for Winged-Arthur. Inspired by several pieces of fan art by codeine-3 and some other artists which I haven’t been able to relocate.

Part 1

Part 3: here

The white shimmer, which has been dancing over his skin, dims to a more natural colour. The bight, golden light emitting from his new wings also eases down to a dull glow, so he’s no longer a shining beacon. Arthur takes a wobbly step forward when the wings shift unexpectantly, and he glances uneasily at the vertical drop on either side of him.

“Lewis?” He breaths, still not entirely trusting the reality happing right in front of him. Had he imagined the Lewis thing altogether? He had been in the middle of being chucked off a cliff.

“…I’ve been,” he starts, hesitating when Lewis floats upright so he’s standing again. Lewis. Purple, flaming, skeleton, Lewis, “Is that really you?”

Lewis is staring in an odd combination of menace and confusion. His facial features, lit unevenly by purple flame, flicker briefly between human and skeleton. It is Lewis!

“Who else would it be,” Lewis rumbles, angry flames jumping, growing from ankle to knee height.

“We were looking for you,” Arthur blurts because he still has no idea what’s going on and he needs to do something about the tense atmosphere, “We searched for, like, ever. All over the country. We even went to Canada, twice, because you mentioned that one time that you wanted to go, but you weren’t there. Obviously. You’re here…and uh,”

He doesn’t know how he’s managed it, being skully and all, but Lewis is definitely glaring now. The fire crackles up, blocking the cavern’s only exit.

“Are you ghost?” Arthur babbles on, voice slowly going up several octaves, “Why are you a ghost? Are you dead?”

The purple lights, which have replaced Lewis’s eyes, seem to narrow.

“Am I dead?” Arthur is definitely panicking now, “What’s happening. Oh god. You tried to…”

He needs to stop talking, but his dead best friend had just tried to…had just tried to…His mind skips over the sentence as it gets stuck in his throat.

”You tried to kill me!” Arthur accuses and points, almost losing his balance. The words are wrong. They sound wrong.

The purple fire sparks, gaining new life.

Arthur freezes. That was the definitely the wrong thing to say.

“I tried to kill you,” Lewis growls, the area around them is filled rows of raging flames. He’s mad. Very mad. Arthur is reminded uncomfortably of the mansion and how he and Vivi were almost buried in a similar inferno.

“I tried to kill YOU!” Lewis roars. Frames hiss and spit.

The fire explodes outward in a superheated wave of magenta.

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO KILLED ME!”

“What?” is all he manages to say in his defence before he staggers backward under the onslaught, stepping right off the cliff’s edge. This time he doesn’t plummet straight down onto the stone spikes because his wings snap out to catch the air. Clumsily, he flops about, attempting to right himself. Warm air buffets him about. While the instincts for flight are all there, the skill and grace are not. It doesn’t help that his mind is doing its own series of nauseating summersaults.

“You murdered me! You murdered me and left me here to rot!” Lewis is yelling, floating near the cliff’s edge, encircled by those freaky purple wraiths. Arthur steadies himself several feet down and out of range, wings beating erratically to keep himself aloft.

“No. I…I would never….” He starts, then shouts up, equally frustrated as he is fearful, “We searched everywhere for you!”

“You pushed me of this very cliff! WHY! WHY DID YOU DO IT?”

The fire streaks outwards and the whole cave shimmers in the heat. Arthur’s body and limbs glow, pale white lost in the sea of purple, and the heat dissipates, absorbed by the light.

“I’ve never seen this place in my life,”

“STOP LYING!”

Lewis is beyond listening now, lost within his mini tornado of fire and emotion. Around them, smaller pink ghosts appear, wailing a high pitched melody. Arthur drops down to the cave floor, escaping the worst of the flames. He’s unwilling to put his newfound fire resistance to the test. Thankfully, Lewis doesn’t follow him, remaining suspended up above, yelling angrily into the empty space. His furious cries mix together with the mournful wailing of the pink ghosts to make a discordant mess. It bounces and echoes through the cavern, jarring to the ears, glowing in volume.

Arthur grimaces, shivering and couching down, putting both hands over his ears to block out the intense noise. He’s never seen Lewis this angry or distressed about anything. It’s painful to both watch and hear. He wants to do something, anything, to help, but he has no idea how. He doesn’t know why Lewis thinks he would ever do something…something as terrible as trying to kill his best friend.

Along his back, he can feel the wings move and twitch, and he shivers again, forcing them to hang limp. Speckled about the stone floor, amongst the spikes, are flecks of red. His blood. Though, upon examination, there are no wounds anywhere on his person. The only evidence he has of the fall is his shredded, bloody clothing. It doesn’t make him feel any better and only confirms that something has gone horribly wrong.

Up above, Lewis’s roaring tappers off till there is only the crackle of flames. Arthur tears his eye’s away from the small puddles of red to squint up. With one last burst of intense fire, Lewis stops yelling all together, eyes darting around to locate Arthur on the floor below.

Slowly, Lewis floats towards him.

In a snap, Arthur is back on his feet and retreating, intent on giving Lewis all the spare room he can manage. His way is blocked by several pink ghosts who appear and bear their teeth menacingly at him. Automatically, the wings extend out, prepping for flight. He forces them back into a more inert state.

Nervously, he waits, watching Lewis touch down, all the while frowning at Arthur.

“No one remembered. No one knows what happened. You just vanished!” Arthur starts speaking again, feeling a discordant mix of upset, exasperated, scared, and hopeful.

“Me and Vivi, we searched for you. ”

“If you don’t remember anything then why are you running away,” Lewis bites, clenching and unclenching his fists, taking an aggressive step forward. Fire inches towards Arthur. They are only meters apart now.

“You collapsed a house on us, ran the van off the road, and threw me off a cliff!” Arthur retorts, stiffening, “Why wouldn’t I run away!”

“You killed me!” Lewis barks, but it lacks the hate and fury from moments before.

“and you almost killed me,” Arthur responds heatedly before hesitating, throwing an uncertain glance over his shoulder at the wings, “I am still alive, right?”

Lewis falters, and the fire retreats, “You’re not. Dead, I mean. You’re not dead,”

Arthur, surprised, shifts his attention back to Lewis, “How do you know?”

“I just do,” Lewis snaps, glaring again. There is a tense silence while Arthur waits to see if Lewis is going to go full explosion mode again. Nothing happens. Even the smaller ghosties dissipate, disappearing into the cracked heart floating on Lewis’s chest.

“I didn’t want to try and kill you…” Lewis begins, tone softer now, “or run you off the road…” his gaze flickers away to land on the angry bands of fire still circling his feet.

The next sentence is muttered, soft, barely audible, sounding almost sorrowful.

“What’s wrong with me.”

Arthur hears it anyway because he apparently has super-hearing now.

“Lewis I…,” He steps forward, ignoring the drag of foreign weight at his back. Carefully, he reaches out a shaky hand to touch Lewi’s shoulder, “I’m sor…”

“Don’t touch me,” Lewis growls, glowering, and Arthur flinches back. His arm drops limply back to his side. Tense seconds pass and neither of them move.

NOTE: So yeah. More winged Arthur.

Part 3: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #arthur kingsmen #ghost lewis #lewis pepper #wings #winged arthur #au #fanfic #fanfiction #hellbent #angst

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digikate813 · 6 years

Text

Power Down: Chapter 2

Ducktales Fanfic

Now that Fenton has officially become Gizmoduck, Duckburg’s newest protector, he is not holding back. Giving everything he has to being the greatest hero he can be. But how much can he push himself to do more before he starts to fall?

Based on a random request by @zefive. Not to me directly, but when I saw the post, this idea flooded into my head, and I couldn’t resist. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Launchpad headed down to Gyro’s lab when he heard his robot friend had been there since last night, and decided to bring down an extra cup of coffee. When he got there, he found Fenton with his head resting on his arms, asleep at the main work bench. Looking a bit disheveled if he said so himself.

He approached slowly and placed a light hand on his shoulder to try and arouse him. “Umm, Gizmo? You okay man?”

“Numerical Prime Fusion Calibration!” Fenton woke up with a startled jolt, almost falling out of his chair. Sat up straight, it took a second to get his bearings, until he realized that Mr. McDuck’s chauffeur was beside him. He must have dozed off for a minute. “Oh. Launchpad. Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting anybody at this hour.” He slouched during his greeting and relaxed a bit.

“No problem.” Launchpad assured. “But you really should have expected someone to come by, the bin opened 15 minutes ago. Guess Gyro’s running late.”

“What?!” That didn’t make any sense. The bin opened at 8 AM. He took a look at the stop watch he was using to to keep track of command process time on some of the suits features. He must have fallen asleep before he turned it off. But it had only been going for about 30 minutes. Guess he worked through the night. Which, to be fair, wasn’t a first for him. But that meant-

“It’s already morning and I haven’t started my daily patrol yet! I gotta go!” Launchpad got out of the way as Fenton sprung up from his seat, wobbling a bit to catch himself as the room spun for a second. Must have gotten up too fast.He got his footing quickly and raced to the elevator.

“You want a lift to where you’re going?” Launchpad offered “You can finish that quick rest you were having on the way, y’know, depending on how heavy a sleeper you are.”

“That’s fine” Fenton kindly declined. “I have my own mode of transportation” Ready to declare the command he loved saying so much. “Blathering Blatherskite!”

The suit emerged like a speeding bullet from it's resting place and assembled around him. Forming the one and only Gizmoduck! That never got old. Not even wanting to wait for the elevator, he burst out the chute and out through the main floor entrance. Ready to take on whoever dare oppose the good citizens of Duckburg.

Which left Launchpad alone in the lab, a puff of smoke surrounding him. “Well, guess I’m waiting for the next one.”

Fenton flew through the skyline of Duckburg, looking down for any sign of trouble that he could thwart. Flying was something else that Fenton still couldn’t get over was a part of his daily life now. I mean, everyone wants to be able to fly on their own at some time right? And now he knew why. It was so cool! But there were times where he’d patrol for who knows how long without more then a minor distress. But he didn’t stop just in case something happened. So sometimes he was up in the clouds with nothing but his thoughts and the whirring of his propeller. His pretty small propeller. Maybe if he could increase the length of the blades at will it would help with steering and gaining more air. But he did have the shoulder rockets for acceleration. On the other hand-

“Stop in the name of the law!” echoed through the streets beneath him. Modifications will have to wait. Fenton zoomed down to get a closer look. Some of the Beagle Boys were being chased by a couple of cops. Probably on patrol since there weren’t any banks in this part of town. But there wasn’t time to hypothesize what they were stealing. It was the Beagle Boys. They were definitely stealing. They had a good head start on the cops though, at this rate they’d get away. Good thing Gizmoduck had just the thing to stop them in their tracks.

“Activating Elbow Grease!” Fenton exclaimed in his hero voice. The hoses emerged from his arms, ready to knock those pilfering pugs on their butts. But as he was taking aim, his vision got fuzzy, and he started seeing double. He shook his head to try and compose himself and quickly fired when he gained his composure. Unfortunately he didn’t take the time to adjust his aim and shot the grease on the the sidewalk right between the Beagle Boys and the cops. Before the cops could stop themselves, they ran into the grease and slid uncontrollably on the puddle, and then into each other. Now on the ground coated in the stuff.

Fenton had to move fast. He flew closer to the street, shouted “Sorry!” to the officers on the ground, and turned the street corner to catch the Beagles before they could get out of sight. Hopefully now that he’s closer, it’ll be easier to grab them.

He finally made his presence known to the criminals with a cry of “Gluteo Grappler” as a grappling hook shot from an area that Dr. Gearloose really should have reconsidered in the new model. It managed to grab onto and wrap around the two Beagle Boys. Forcing them to drop their stolen goods as they were swept off their feet and tied up tight.

When Fenton landed, a police car pulled to the side. The officer who was driving tended to the goods and the Beagle Boys, and the other officer on the scene, was his M’ma.

“Pollito! A word.” She scolded, making Fenton flinch. Gesturing for him to come closer. Well any pride he felt at catching the bad guys was now washed away by his mother’s angry tone.

“M’ma. Please don’t call me that while I’m on duty.” He gritted through his teeth.

“Well, I’m on duty too, and I want to know why two of my officers were tasting oil covered pavement just a couple of blocks away?” she asked as she pointed to the backseat of the car, where the two cops sat trying to get as much of the grease off as they could.

If Fenton wasn’t embarrassed before, he was now. “Oh. Right. That. Well, you see-”

“And why didn’t you come home last night?” His M’ma interrupted. “If that loco inventor was keeping you in that tin can all night-”

Fenton corrected her and flailed his arms in front of him “No no! It wasn’t like that! It was-” until he just let out and exhausted sigh and slumped forward. “Lo siento M’ma. I was just in the lab working on some new ideas after Dr. Gearloose left and, well I just lost track of the time.” he admitted. He had no excuse. Sometimes that’s just how he was, but he was usually home when it happened. After all, until recently no one really cared about his ideas and contributions except himself. Maybe he should have called, but it just escaped him. That’s what happened when he got caught in his own head. In fact, he was feeling a little light headed at the moment. Probably just a lack of oxygen. He must have flown too high up before.

His mother sighed and looked a bit less angry, which was a good sign. “Look, Fenton. I know you’re taking this new responsibility seriously, and I couldn’t be prouder of that. And the fact that you are getting paid now doesn’t hurt either.” Fenton rolled his eyes under his visor at that last comment. “But you got to be careful not to run yourself ragged. Understand?”

“I understand M’ma, but you don’t have to worry. I’m Roboduck after all!” striking a hero pose. “I can handle anything!”

“Isn’t it Gizmoduck?”

”That’s what I said.”

His mother crossed her arms in suspicion. But before they could continue, there was a call over the car radio that there was another small robbery not far from where they were. Officer Cabrera picked up the radio to say they were on their way.

“But Cabrera.” the other officer interjected after she got off the line. “Between the Beagle Boys and the dripping officers, we don’t have any more room in the car. We’ll have to call somebody else, we won’t be able to make it.”

“Nonsense!” Fenton put his hero voice back on to interrupt before his mother could get back on the radio. “I’ll take care of it and drop that miscreant off at your prescient.” he offered.

His mother did not look pleased. “But Polli- Gizmoduck.” she stopped herself before she spilled the beans in front of her fellow officer. But that didn’t stop her from glaring at her son in disguise. “Are you sure you shouldn’t be somewhere else? We wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“Oh it’s no trouble.” he waved her off with his hero voice still bolstering. She was not amused. “It won’t take long at all.”

“That would be great!” the other officer replied. “Thanks for the help Gizmoduck.” Fenton was pleased with how grateful the officer was for his help. Meanwhile his mother looked like she wanted to strangle the guy. But then he heard him say “maybe he’s not a menace like the news says” Ugh. Maybe he should get a publicist.

Before he could fly off on his latest mission, he felt something grab him by the shoulder, which pulled him down and suddenly he was face to face with his mother. “As soon as you bring that robber into the station, you go straight home. Comprendido?”

“Si M’ma” he promised. She let him go and he rolled away and flew off on his latest assignment. Though it did take a couple of tries to gain enough concentration to get off the ground. Must be a bug. He’d have to look into that.

His mother was left standing in front of a cloud of his exhaust, muttering to herself “I will never understand that boy.”

The other cop then wondered out loud “Wait, how does he know what prescient we’re with?”

A/N: Now this is where things get going! This is my first time writing action, os if it’s a bit weird I apologize, but I think it came out pretty good. And it won’t be the last action sequence we have in this story.

I also apologize if i misused any of the Spanish. I don’t speak Spanish, but how Fenton and his M’ma use casual Spanish so naturally in their conversations with each other, that I really wanted to include it. Otherwise I didn’t think it would sound like the characters. I did look up all of the phrases to figure out the correct usage, but if anything doesn’t sound quite right, let me know and I can fix it. Hope you enjoyed!

#ducktales #fanfiction #fenton crackshell cabrera #gizmoduck #launchpad mcquack #mama cabrera #fanfic

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benito-cereno · 6 years

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The Further Adventures of Santa Claus, chapter 2: The Count at the North Pole (Part one)

(Chapter 1 part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here. You should definitely read chapter 1 first.)

“No!” shouted the child who had been a puddle who had once been a child, as if she were a protoplasmic being that, upon being galvanized, careened through the billion-year process of evolution in a fraction of a second, leaving an upright, and righteously indignant, homo sapiens sapiens staring into the face of her tutor.

The tutor was somewhat taken aback by the sudden apparition of interest in the girl’s demeanor. “I’m sorry, what?”

The child flailed her arms above her head in anger. “You can’t even be serious about that story, you jerk!”

“First of all,” said the tutor, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, “I am nominally an authority figure in this scenario and you probably shouldn’t say ‘jerk’ to me.” He then glared hard at her through the side of his half-lidded and suspicious eyes. “That said, what do you feel was the matter with that perfectly good story?”

The child continued gesticulating wildly as the tutor looked on with disdain. “You just told a story about Santa Claus and Santa lost! Santa always wins everything! That's why he's not allowed to play the lottery!” She now jabbed an angry finger at the offended storyteller. “That is not how it would have played out at all! Where were the reindeer? I don't think you even said ‘North Pole’ at any point!” Pausing, she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Additionally, I feel you played pretty fast and loose with what qualifies as a ‘ghost story.’”

“All right,” said the tutor, replacing his glasses and settling smugly back into his chair. “Why don’t we see if you’re better at telling stories than you are at reducing fractions. Give me the best story you’ve got.”

At this, the child stood stupefied, jaw slack, finger raised limply and half-heartedly, at half-mast. A second later, a shadow of inspiration crossed the child’s face, and her finger sprung to life and her eyes lit with excitement. “Yeah! I will! A real corker!”

And here, to the best of the tutor’s recollection, is the story she told:

The North Pole! A tall, candy-striped pole rises high above the snow drifts! It stands as a marker to the northernmost point of this island Earth, as well as the signpost to Santa Claus Village!

But what’s this? Suddenly, the crystalline globe at the top of the pole begins to blink steadily with a bright red warning light! “Bnk! Bnk! Bnk!” goes the blinking light.

From underneath the pole, a hatch from some unknown subterranean facility begins to rise from the snow. A blanket of white falls all around the top of the hatch. The light of the globe, blinking though it is, reveals a long metal corridor leading at an incline deep into the earth. Out of the shadows at the depth of the run, something is coming. From the inky depths, the sound of bells.

BELLS ARE RINGING, CHILDREN SINGING. ALL IS MERRY AND BRIGHT.

But is it? A figure who had been buried in snow now rises, shedding the frosty cloak with which he had draped himself. Before him is revealed the fully unusual but still fully expected sight of reindeer beginning to soar out of the hatch.

“At last!” exclaims the mysterious figure as Santa and his sleigh, pulled by a full team of nine reindeer, burst out of the hatch, hurtling into the sky, issuing forth a chorus of tintinnabulation and a raucous “HO! HO! HO!”

The figure, now having fully shed his snowy mantle, reveals himself to be dressed in black from head to toe, a stark contrast against the snowy ground as he leapt through the air with preternatural strength and speed toward the cannonball of cheer that was Santa’s sleigh.

HANG YOUR STOCKINGS AND SAY YOUR PRAYERS--

--BECAUSE DRACULA STALKS THE NIGHT!

The Lord of the Vampires rocketed through the sky and burst through the body of Vixen, who exploded into a fine pink mist as Dracula clawed his way over all of the other reindeer toward the sleigh. “SANTA!” he shouted with a vengeful glee.

At the reins, Santa’s face was covered equally with the blood spray of his cervine friend and a look of shock. “DRACULA?” he sputtered with incredulity.

Dracula, covered in gore, reached a clawed hand toward Santa. His face bore a menacing smile. “I’ve come for my revenge,” he said coolly.

The normally jolly old elf struggled to right his sleigh, which was now piloted by eight spooked reindeer dragging the mutilated corpse of their comrade through the air as it hung lifelessly from the line. As Santa yanked at the reins, the count successfully made his way to the front of the sleigh.

“Your revenge?” shouted Santa indignantly. “You came out the better in our last encounter, vampire!”

Dracula shook his fist in rage at the fur-clad figure in front of him. “That may be, elf, but oh, what you did after!” In his mind’s eye, he could picture the sadistic glee with which Santa had doubtlessly applied his name--DRACULA--to the top of his notorious Naughty List. He shook off this painful image and shouted, “You know what you did to my name! I was never able to bounce back!” In rage, the vampire swiped a gnarled and claw-tipped hand at Santa, who just barely managed to dodge while still keeping grip on the reins. “Everyone knew me after that, and knew my nature! Everyone knew the curse of Dracula!” His shadowy eyes flashed red. “A tarnished reputation garners no man an invitation into a stranger's home.”

Santa placed the sole of his black leather work boot on the crawling vampire’s face and gave him the least gentle shove he could muster, trying desperately to keep control of his careening sleigh at the same time.

Dracula’s own desperation showed as he reached for the red and white mass at the helm with his vampiric talons, screaming, “You've ruined me, elf! You have no idea what you did!” His mind’s eye flashed once again to the sight of a pile of rats, drained of blood in an alley. “Or what I had to do to survive!”

At this memory, the black-cloaked count hissed like a cornered animal and his wild, thrashing swipe finally found purchase, raking three trails of blood across Santa’s face.

Santa calmly touched the fresh cuts on his face. Lowering his hand, he saw the blood that now stained his mitten. “Very well, vampire,” he said, tying the reins to the sleigh. He turned behind him and reached into his bulging sack of toys that he had intended to deliver to all the good girls and boys of Earth that very night. “I have something here for you.”

Dracula, perched on the beak of the sleigh like some hideous bird of prey, hissed with disdain. “Unless it is five centuries of reparations, elf, I have little interest--”

Santa interrupted. “No, I think you'll like it. After all,” he said, standing back to his full height and revealing what he had pulled out of his sack: two large stake carved out of sprigs of holly, “‘tis the season to be sharing, Vlad.”

The gift-bringer lunged at Dracula with one stake, aiming for his heart. But Dracula at the last second turned into a cloud of mist, and Santa’s fruitless momentum caused him to fly through where Dracula once was and then tumble off the side of the sleigh.

“Hah!” cackled Dracula, rematerializing as Santa fell. What he didn’t count on was the speed with which the falling Santa managed to grab Dracula’s once again corporeal cloak, pulling him out of the sleigh with him.

“Hah, indeed!” retorted Santa as the two figures, one corpulent and red, the other gaunt and black, freefell through the night sky, with the lights of the city twinkling below them. The reindeer, now pilotless, streaked off toward the horizon.

Santa, still gripping his stakes, struggled to stab the squirming lord of the vampires as they plummeted toward the earth. “In my travels and experiences, Count, I have learned that basketballs bounce. Volleyballs, kickballs, soccer balls, even bumbles bounce. Tell me, sir...do vampires?”

Inside a suburban home, two children dressed in footie pajamas sat in a fire-lit family room bedecked with tree and stockings and lights perked up their ears as they heard a sound whistling through the sky toward their roof.

“Up on the housetop--!” said one.

“Do you hear what I hear?” asked the other.

It wasn’t through the chimney that this visit from Saint Nicholas came, however, but straight through the roof of their house, which splintered and shattered from the impact of the two immortal bodies that crashed into it from the heights of the stratosphere.

Despite their house being destroyed, the roaring crash, and the fact that they were now covered in debris, the two children were overjoyed to see the man with all the toys in their very home. “Santa! Santa!” they cried, picking up a platter of cookies and milk, now covered in splinters of wood, bits of shingle, and insulation fluff, and carrying it toward the fallen gift-bringer.

“Children!” shouted Santa, bloodied and bruised and crawling toward the frightened tots. “Santa needs cookies for strength!”

Behind him, Dracula regained his feet. He grabbed Santa by the boot and dragged him away from the children. “You'll not get away that easily, you ponderous pixie!”

Dracula hurled Santa like a hammer throw through the house’s picture window, which exploded in a shower of glass slivers that fell like rain on the blanket of snow outside. Santa’s massive form, depleted of all strength, plowed through the snow until, momentum expended, it slid to a terrible stop somewhere in the yard.

Stepping out through the massive hole in the side of the house where once a window gazed out upon the front yard, Dracula grabbed the supine Santa by the front of his red fur coat and slammed him pitilessly against the aluminum siding of the neighboring house.

“At last!” cackled the undead son of the dragon. “My final revenge is nigh! Any final words, you wretch, before I rip out your throat?”

Santa, bloodied and crying, gazed deep into the starry sky. “I've seen things you wouldn't believe. Gumdrop ships on fire off the coast of Candyland. I watched snowflakes glitter in the dark near the peppermint mines of the Yukon. All these moments will be lost in time...like tears in snow…”

Dracula’s jaws opened to such an inhuman degree they seemed to have come unhinged. As he lunged his long, pointed canines toward the white-bearded jugular, he gleefully shrieked:

“Time to die!”

#christmas #halloween #santa #santa claus #dracula #santa vs dracula #my writing #not comics

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veronica-rich · 7 years

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POTC5 thoughts, spoilers

GIANT MASSIVE MOVIE-RUINING SPOILERS AHEAD FOR DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES.

I've only seen the movie once, but I wanted to put a night of sleep between me and it before I tried to convey my thoughts on it. I see my job as a fan here to tell you generally what happens and my thoughts on it, as well as whether you should spend your time going to see it. All only opinions of course. (I'll refer to the movies in numerals - 1 for the first, 5 for this, and then of course the in-betweens. Mainly because I don't want to try to remember the abbreviations OST and DMTNT. See how annoying? LOL)

Here we go ...

Except for where the regulars have ended up and the state of the Black Pearl in movie 5, you really don't need to have seen 4 to understand this one. You don't strictly HAVE to have seen the first three movies, either - this movie can stand on its own as an entertaining single viewing. If you've never seen a POTC movie and you come in with this one, you will probably laugh at most of the jokes (if you have that kind of sense of humor) and like some of the characters.

Since I doubt anyone who hasn't seen at least the first movie is going to read through this, I'll assume you all are familiar with the original characters from 1-3 as I go forth.

THE SPOILERS The movie opens with young Henry Turner tying rocks to his foot to drown himself in the bay just off the land where he lives; he's anywhere from 11-14 years old. His father is Death's Ferryman of the ocean, you see, so the fastest way to raise Will Turner is to get himself killed or nearly killed. He lands on the deck of the Dutchman, it surfaces, and Will emerges to talk with his son. Henry tells him he may have found a way to break the curse that ties Will to the ship, but he needs to find Jack Sparrow to help. Will commands him to not go anywhere near Jack and to go back home and leave him to his fate. Will is barnacled in Davy Jones-lite fashion; just enough to see the sea is winning against his resolve not to succumb to the hopelessness of the job. Unlike Davy Jones, he is not bitter or angry, but resigned and almost tired. We also get a hint that he is not exactly in command of his crew anymore, by how quickly he ushers Henry away and sinks the Dutchman to put distance between them and the boy. (This may also explain why you don't see Will again until the end of the movie, despite all the water-based shenanigans and near-death experiences throughout ... like he's not really in charge of the Dutchman anymore.)

Nine years later, Henry, now anywhere from 20-23 ish, is a low-ranking sailor on a Navy ship. We find out he's searching for Jack and the Pearl. He sees the ship is headed for the cursed Devil's Triangle and tries to warn the captain, telling the man he's read all the lore of the sea and this place is Bad News. The captain not only scolds and mocks him, but strips him of his lowly rank as a traitor and jails him. Of course the ship goes in; of course the cursed Captain Salazar and his undead crew overrun the ship and kill everyone on board - save Henry, whom Salazar tells to relay a message to Jack when he finds him. (We'll find out later Salazar used to be a pirate-hunter and perished in a fire in the Devil's Triangle while chasing newly-captained Jack Sparrow, while Jack escaped. So, he's hunting Jack. Trouble is, he can't leave the Triangle unless something happens - which it will, later.)

Through a series of events, Henry ends up at the same Caribbean English outpost as Jack and a young woman roughly Henry's age, Caryna Smith (Smyth?). Caryna keeps landing in Navy custody and escaping it - she's a scientist, and female in the 18th century, which is enough to get her convicted as a witch. Caryna is an orphan who is amazingly well-educated for having no resources other than a mysterious diary left to her by her father, a man of science who was searching for the Trident of Poseiden - which can break any curse laid at sea. The island shenanigans are pretty entertaining; suffice to say they all end up stealing the same ship with Gibbs, Marty, and the rest of Jack's paltry, pissed-off (at Jack) crew. Also, Jack trades his magic compass away for a bottle of rum (more on this later) and, in willingly giving it up, breaks Salazar's imprisonment miles away, allowing him to sail out on the open waters in his ship-eating ship (you read that right).

More shenanigans happen, McGuffins are pursued (chiefly the Trident, which everybody wants for different reasons), innuendos are made, young romance is set up (of course), we run into Barbossa and his crew, which includes Murtogg and Mullroy (but no Pintel and Ragetti!), Salazar's in the mix, and we find out his crew can't set foot on land any more than the Dutchman's crew or captain (they vanish in a puff of black smoke if they get out of the water). Shenanigans, shenanigans, it turns out Caryna is totally NOT the daughter of Jack Sparrow as most of us suspected (mainly because making Jack and Will co-parents-in-law would have been too delicious) - but the reality is possibly more entertaining, since it turns out Barbossa is her father.

(I really did want the after-credits scene to be Will and Elizabeth finding out their daughter-in-law-probably-to-be is a Barbossa, then the camera pans back to a general shot of the island, a la "Home Alone 2" while in the far distance you can still hear the two of them screaming "NOOOOOOOOOO!" with birds flying off in every direction.)

So - they find the Trident, break the curse on Salazar's ship (and we'll find out later, on Will Turner, too, elsewhere in the ocean) turning them all back human, and the good guys manage to escape back to the Pearl while Salazar falls to his death. Well ... not actually. Caryna briefly finds out that Barbossa is her father, after which he sacrifices himself to drown with Salazar to ensure her ability to escape his clutches unharmed. Once they're all safe, Caryna decides to change her last name to Barbossa from Smith. Cut to the cliffs outside Henry's childhood home, where he and Caryna are engaging in their form of verbal foreplay and smooching, when the Dutchman shows up in the distance, uncursed and gleaming brown and beige sails. Will climbs the hill to hug his son, confused as to how he's come to be uncursed and human again ... but just as Henry's going to take old man to the pub for a grog and a tale, Elizabeth appears in the distance hiking her skirts. She and Will run to each other and embrace, then kiss, while Henry and Caryna look on from a distance ... and from an even further distance on the Pearl, Jack watches through his spyglass, revolted by the whole picture of domesticity porn. And then he and his crew sail off.

The after-credits scene is Will and Elizabeth sleeping in their seaside bedroom - they are both dressed in clean white linen sleep-gowns, and they've had baths, and all I could think was This is the cleanest I've ever seen these two. Something menacing is coming up the steps and creaking open their door and looming toward the bed, and we catch a glimpse of some barnacled sea creature reaching for them when Will jerks awake from his bad dream. He looks around, turns over, hugs Elizabeth, and goes back to sleep ... and the camera pans down to the floor to close on a puddle of water and corals snapped off in it.

WHAT I WAS 'MEH' ABOUT OR DISLIKED: For me, it's easier to start with what I don't care for about a movie, if I'm ambivalent. And I sure was about 5.

Plot holes - SO many. I won't list them all, but there is not adequate explanation for many things. Of course, 1-3 also had fantastical elements, but they were explained and largely made sense in-universe. People do things that don't always make sense; magical objects aren't always explained. There's a lot of suspending of disbelief you have to do for this one.

Characterization - The nuance of the first three movies is lacking in a lot of characters here. Everyone who's Navy is efficient, duty-driven, and arrogant or head-down-following-orders. There's no Norrington-type in this movie (BTW, Norrington is not mentioned - which I think will actually make a lot of his fans happy, especially after movies 2 and 3). Nobody in authority seems to be a benevolent person - they're not all Trump, but neither are there any Bernies. The pirates are kind of dumb, more than they need to be. Which brings us to ...

Jack Sparrow - Oh, man. I gotta limit myself on this one. I don't know if Depp had much input into Jack's characterization in this one, but if he did, it honestly looks like his IRL troubles were leaking in to the point of almost drowning the character. In movies 1-3 Jack is a buffoon only insofar as it serves his purpose to make people think he's not as smart as he really is, so he can sneak under the radar with his cleverness and charm a lot of people he needs to do things for him. Conversely, if you only saw this movie and not the earlier ones, you would think Jack is a fall-down dissolute drunk and whoremonger who isn't very bright and whose fortunes come almost entirely on luck and other people's allowances for him. There are only a handful of flashes of the old brilliance and character, and I really miss That Guy. Whereas young Will Turner was trying to second-guess what Jack was really up to in 1, young Henry Turner seems most of the time like he's Jack's guardian trying to keep him propped upright and marching forward like you would that uncle you always heard used to be ripping brilliant but now is "ehhhh."

The lack of callbacks - I wanted more callbacks in this movie. I wanted Henry to talk more about his mom and dad and stories he'd grown up hearing, and what his mom was doing, and some line from Barbossa or Gibbs about something they remembered of his parents, bad or good. There are a couple of little moments, but it's not enough. Which brings me to ...

The retconning - I won't wade too deep into this, except to say it's very clear these are different screenwriters than worked on the first three movies. I won't say Jack's entire backstory is retconned, but you have to be a somewhat skillful fanfic writer to take what they give us and work it in with what we've learned in movies 2 and 3, particularly. Also, I'm not wild about what they did to Will Turner's personality as captain of the Dutchman, but we can discuss that later - at least it *might* have a basis in logical explanation.

Green-screening - I shouldn't say this was "bad" so much as there were moments it was too obvious some actor was hanging from something or standing on something to look like they were hanging on something, and the camera was too close and it just looked a little fake-y. Still, I understand FX isn't an easy thing (and where were a lot of FX shots that were really good in this one, so maybe this isn't a "MEH" so much as "A FEW SHOTS THAT COULD HAVE BEEN EXECUTED BETTER").

Too little Will and Elizabeth - There should have been more of both in the movie. If you're going to pay your actors as much as they likely got (as much as I HOPE they were paid to be in it), use them. I'm just saying. I wanted some more of them.

THINGS I LIKED: Henry and Caryna - As separate characters, that is. I have nothing against their romance; they're cute, and their style of banter is something I could see them keeping up into old age. But I prefer a character to stand on their own, and they're all right. The actor who plays Henry is not quite the treasure young Tom "Spider-Man" Holland is turning out to be, but he's got talent and he does a pretty good job of getting across an amalgamation of the personalities of Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann. My favorite thing about Henry is that he seems to be only an OK swordsman; he's not his father - but what he lacks there he makes up for in what seems to be a preternatural affinity for hand-to-hand combat. He hits, he kicks, he kneels to trip people over him, he even grabs a couple and bodyslams them like The Undertaker. (I am sincerely hoping Elizabeth taught him these moves.) And Caryna - she's not like Elizabeth. She doesn't fight or confront the same way, but she's direct and unafraid, and good at getting herself out of jail and other tight spots. Plus, she's book-smart and scientifically literate. I swear to Christ if their kid inherit both their traits, they're going to be either Sherlock Holmes or Lara Croft.

Will Turner - Shut up. Of course I like him. I'm not entirely wild what the writers did with him or the fact he's in this so little, but I enjoy the fact he's middle-aged and looks like it with facial lines and sadness in his eyes at the right time (and some humor), and it was nice to see him and Elizabeth happy again. Of course, I can still pair him just as easily with Jack in fanfic, which brings us to ...

Jack/Will potential - Yes, it's still there. If you're an industrious fanfic writer or reader, you can make it happen. They're both older and a little more defeated, and Will definitely wouldn't be putting up with any of Jack's bullshit at this point, but you can slash them. What I really liked is how Jack didn't really show any favoritism or fondness for Henry 94 percent of the time, but there were 3-4 instances he did something to save the kid, because why not. He does ask after Elizabeth at one point and if she said his name in her sleep (LOL), and Henry is "no ... no." (I saw someone online comment that this is patently untrue, since how else would Henry know about Jack in the first place, and that the more likely explanation is that Elizabeth probably shit-talked Jack through most of the kid's childhood, sprinkled with some fond allowances for the fact Jack wasn't always a selfish prick or one or both of Henry's parents would be dead, okay?) Granted, I think most of the slash at this point in their lives would be less about Jack and Will having sex everywhere and more about Will overlooking the fact Jack cheats at cards and drawing a sword on anyone who tries to shoot him for it at the pub. But, you know. You can have the nookie too. (And yeah, there's OT3 fic to be had too, probably in Elizabeth being the one every so often who pulls the gun on Jack and Will lets her. Or she bodyslams Jack.)

ANYWAY ... I won't say it's a bad movie and I won't say it's a really good movie. It's entertaining. Had this been the first POTC movie, I don't believe there would be any sequels. There are things I could've done better if they'd hired me to write it, easily; there are things a lot of us in the old fandom could've done better if they'd only hired US instead. But it has enough holes in it that if you like the fanfic thing, you can spend lots of time patching up missing scenes and what-not.

#potc spoilers #potc5

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sometimesiwearpants · 7 years

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I'm Leaving Tumblr Today 👋

Hey everybody, I just wanted to let you know that this is my last day on Tumblr. I’ve had a lot of fun blogging but I’ve started to neglect what’s really important.

Anyway, as a parting gift, I wanted to give away all the art, fanfiction, and songs that I started but never finished. You can feel free to use ANY of this content or the ideas as you please. For example, it’s fine with me if you want to record my songs, steal lines from my fics, or use my art ideas. I’m not actually deactivating my account, so you’ll still be able to see content in this post and all my other posts even after I log out indefinitely.

Thank-you so much for your follows and your friendship! I hope my blog brought you some enjoyment while it lasted. Love you guys ❤

SONGS:

(Lyrics are in the Sound Cloud descriptions.)

Never Feed a Stray - Click Here to listen in Sound Cloud

A song about Marinette reluctantly falling for Chat Noir.

I Will Stay - Click Here to listen in Sound Cloud

A duet between the oblivious love birds, Adrien and Marinette.

ART:

(If you have ArtRage and want the .ptg file let me know!)

Mattress Surfing Comic

Basically the mattress surfing scene from Princess Diaries 2 but with Miraculous Ladybug characters. Unfortunately I never got around to drawing the third panel - Gabriel majestically gliding down the stairs on a mattress in his PJs (I added versions of the panels without words under the cut.)

Seven Eleven

So what if Seven from Mystic Messenger and Eleven from Stranger Things went to 7-Eleven? I feel like they’d talk about their crappy childhoods and bond over Slurpees and Honey Buddha Chips. Clearly I didn’t get very far with this one but I still like the idea. (Version with just Eleven under the cut.)

(Other versions of my art and unfinished fanfiction under the cut)

FANFICTION

Pursuit - In this Miraculous AU, Adrien is the sole miraculous holder and Marinette is a civilian who becomes a self-imposed vigilante. The love square and their personalities are sort of flipped so Adrien is a socially awkward mess around Marinette and Ladybug is flirty with Chat Noir.

(I didn’t even finish writing the first chapter…)

She should have stayed inside. The rain was falling harder now, bringing with it a frigid sensation that washed over Marinette’s paralyzed body. The glowing pause symbol hovered before her, a taunting reminder of the menacing evil that had overcome her best friend. But that had been hours ago.

“It’s been too long,” Marinette kept thinking. “Something’s wrong.”

She was beginning to fear the worst when suddenly a familiar wave of green light shot through the sky, one of its rays swimming through the air in her direction. As it surrounded her, the pause symbol disappeared, releasing its death grip on her muscles. Marinette fell to her hands and knees on the wet pavement, her body shaking violently as it fought to regain heat.

“He did it.” She realized in relief. “Chat Noir did it.”

She trudged through the storm, each unavoidable puddle soaking through her shoes and biting at her toes. The only warmth provided her was a burning envy for those who passed by with umbrellas. She waited at a street corner, trying to avoid the waves of water that shot towards her as cars sped by. When the crosswalk signal finally turned green, Marinette stepped onto the slick street, distracted by thoughts of home.

What she would give right now to be inside and safe and warm and dry and wrapped in her parents’ arms. Unfortunately, the latter would not be possible until tomorrow, as they were both in Strasbourg for the annual Festival de la Boulangerie. Maybe she could spend the night with Alya. She would probably appreciate the company after what happened today… Through her thoughts and the tumult of rain around her, Marinette suddenly heard a desperate screech of tires and a blaring car horn. Still in the street, she froze as her eyes caught sight of a black vehicle hydroplaning in her direction.

There’s no time.

A powerful force slammed into the Parisian girl’s body, catapulting her through the air and onto the pavement. But it wasn’t the car.

“Are you okay?”

Marinette could feel a pair of arms releasing her. She looked up, relatively unharmed, to see a pair of glowing green eyes staring at her from beneath a black mask. She was speechless. Chat Noir gently pulled her to her feet as a small crowd gathered round. The people applauded and cheered, some shielding their phones from the rain as they recorded the moment, but the hero paid them no mind. His gaze was transfixed on Marinette in concern. Her face was pale with shock, her skin freezing cold, and her unsteady legs looked like they might give out at any second.“We need to get you home.” He placed an arm around her back and scooped her up, vaulting effortlessly from the ground to the roof of a car. Marinette gasped as they rebounded off an awning and landed on the roof, where the wind was strong and numbing. The hero looked around, then set her down beneath an eave which blocked the rain.

“Where do you live?”

Poor Marinette’s brain still hadn’t quite registered that Chat Noir, savior of Paris, was kneeling right there in front of her. Surely, she was hallucinating from hypothermia. He tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder and immediately the electricity jump-started her senses. “Oh! Uh, t-t-twelve Rue G-gotlib!” Marinette practically winced at how screwed up her speech was. A raspy voice and chattering teeth were hardly attractive. But Chat just smiled.

“So you do talk after all.” A soft laugh escaped her lips. For some reason she had imagined Chat Noir would be dark and brooding, not… charming. “What’s your name?” he asked curiously. A flicker of warmth ignited in her chest. “Marinette.”

…

Chat Noir already knew Marinette’s name. He even knew where she lived. He visited her family’s bakery practically every week just on the off chance that he might see her outside of school. But that was without the mask, when he was just… Adrien. Despite the way he was pictured in most magazines and ad campaigns, the model was far from suave in everyday life. A practically friendless childhood left him with crippling social anxiety around those his age.

As a result, his first few days at Collège Françoise Dupont, a little over a month ago, were a nightmare. He accidentally introduced himself as “Adrigen Areste" in front of the whole class and found himself tripping over things on a frequent basis. The excitement of having a “famous model” for a classmate quickly dissipated. His deskmate, Nino Lahiffe, seemed sympathetic but struggled to maintain conversation with the new student. Adrien was accustomed to a professional and practical form of dialogue so when the Moroccan said, “Dude, have you heard the new Jagged Stone album? It’s totally lit!” …he was lost for words.

Then there was Marinette. On his second day, Adrien caught her hanging flyers all over the school hallways. They featured one of his more recent model shots, defaced with a uni-brow and captioned “Adrigen Areste”. There were hundreds of them. It wasn’t until after school that he found out they were really Chloe’s doing.

“I was only trying to take them down.” Adrien looked past his locker door to see Marinette standing a little ways off, her face a mixture of guilt and compassion. “I know what it feels like to be the new kid and… well, I’m sorry we haven’t been very welcoming.” She reached into her pocket. “Here.” Marinette held out a colorful beaded bracelet. “This is my lucky charm. My mother gave it to me when I first came here and I thought… it might help you.” Adrien was shocked and completely overcome with gratitude. He accepted the gift and admired the bracelet in his hands as if it were a priceless treasure. He looked back at her sheepishly.

“Thank-you…uh-” he faltered.

“Marinette.” It was such a beautiful name. Almost as beautiful as Marinette, herself. Of course, Adrien didn’t have the courage to tell her that at the time. But now… on the roof and under the mask, he had a second chance. When she introduced herself to Chat Noir, he smiled affectionately.

“That’s a pretty name.”

Cataclysm - Chat ends up confessing his feelings to Ladybug in this unfinished first chapter. I imagined him getting akumatized (into “Cataclysm”, not Chat Blanc lol) after being rejected by her and vowing to destroy the one who stole her heart. When he finds out it was actually his civilian self… well, I don’t know. I didn’t really plan out this plot, but I hope you enjoy!

It was a quiet night. Ladybug and Chat Noir strolled along the rooftops of Paris, planning in tandem as they patrolled the city.

“All the akumas have been striking within the same 5 kilometer radius,” Ladybug said. “If we can just figure out where they’re coming from, we can find Hawk Moth and stop him.”

“You know,” Chat added, “we might not be able to survey the whole city on our own, but-” he tossed his baton up between two adjacent chimneys. “-we do have quite the fan following. Maybe they could help?” He sprang up on the stick and began walking it back and forth like a tight rope. Ladybug paced beneath him.

“That’s not a bad idea. We should talk to Aly- uh that Ladyblog girl. If we can rally enough Parisians to report butterfly sightings on her website, we might be able to narrow down our search area.”

As Ladybug strategized, her nose scrunched up in a way Chat Noir couldn’t help but find adorable. He crouched down, smiling at his smart little bug as he gripped the pole with his claws. “Hawk Moth will be de-miracularized and behind bars in no time.”

Ladybug smiled back at Chat, but a thought caught at her mind. She swung her yoyo around the pole, fashioning it into a swing, and sat with her eyes fixed on the horizon.

Chat swung forward so that he hung upside down beside her and asked with concern, “What’s wrong?” He elbowed her playfully, hoping a joke might bring back that elusive smile. “Cat got your tongue?” But there was no smile, no laugh… not even an eye roll.

“No, I was just thinking…” Ladybug looked down at her yoyo. ”What will we do after he’s defeated?”

Chat dropped to the ground and stood up. “What do you mean?”

“When Hawk Moth is gone, there’ll be no more akumas to capture.” Her foot brushed back and forth against the ground anxiously. “Paris won’t really need us anymore.”

Chat had never considered this.

The thought of losing his newfound freedom was unnerving. The thought of losing Ladybug was even worse. Even if Paris didn’t need her, he did.

“Hey-” Chat lifted her chin gently, “Forget Paris. I happen to remember a certain set of hieroglyphics that prove the world has needed Ladybug for thousands of years.”

Ladybug raised an eyebrow curiously. “The world?”

“Yeah, doesn’t that sound great?” Chat squeezed himself next to Ladybug on the yoyo swing and wrapped an arm around her, much to her chagrin. “You and me: travelling the globe, defeating evil-” the corners of his mouth crept upward as if to warn Ladybug that he was about to say something cheeky, so she interrupted.

“You and me, huh?” She stood up and released her yoyo so that Chat fell on his tail. “And what if I decide to go solo, hmm?” She said with a hint of sass.

Chat was undeterred. “Then I’ll become a villain just so I can see you again.”

“Gag,” thought Ladybug, rolling her eyes. She could understand playful flirting, but Chat’s incessant romantic flattery was starting to bother her. Maybe she wouldn’t mind it as much if she thought it were genuine, but his coquettish behavior towards her civilian alter ego had proven otherwise. She took the banter a bit farther with a flair of dramatic indifference. “Eh, I think I’ll save my energy for bigger threats…”

Chat hopped up feistily and crossed his arms. “Okay, Spots, let’s go then! Right here, right now.”

Ladybug raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking right?”

“Not at all.” He held up his fists. “I’m one hundred purrr-cent serious.”

She considered the opportunity. “Alright then, but if I win, no more puns for the rest of the month.”

He pouted. “Harsh, but I’ll accept it. If I win, though, you have to laugh at my puns for the rest of the month.”

“Good thing I know I how to act,” Ladybug said. “Not that I’ll need to.”

“Because I’m hilarious?” Chat smiled.

She took her fighting stance, “Because I’m going to win!”

Ladybug charged forward, swinging her yoyo in Chat Noir’s direction. He dodged it by ducking swiftly, but then again, Ladybug hadn’t been aiming for him. As the yoyo wrapped around his silver baton, she tugged it forcefully, bringing both back in her direction. Chat swiped towards the gadget as it flew over his head but missed by a few inches. His partner waved it teasingly in the air. “You want the stick?” She tossed it off the roof behind her. “Go fetch!”

Chat squinted at her. “Uh…yeah, cat’s don’t do that.”

She shrugged “Suit yourself.”

“Just to be fair though-” Chat pounced towards her, a clawed hand reaching out to bat away the yoyo. Ladybug jolted backwards, leaving her leather-clad opponent once again swiping at nothing but air - and also falling into her. With a tumble she was down, the clumsy cat draped over her. Shoving against the ground, she flipped the two over and pinned Chat by his shoulders. “Give up yet, Kitty?” she smiled.

“Not a cha- ah- ah-” Circumstantially, one of Ladybug’s pigtails had brushed his nose in the tumbling. “CHOO!” Ladybug reeled back to avoid the sneeze, and Chat - rebounding from the reaction - pulled his legs in and kicked her off. “Pardonne-moi, mademoiselle!“

Ladybug leapt to her feet, calculating her next move.

“You’re going to pay for that!”

Chat Noir smirked, calculating his next pun.

“Oh darn, I don’t have any euros on me.”

For another half hour, they chased each other around the city, competitiveness ever growing as they tried to force one another to surrender without causing any significant pain. It was good training, they realized, considering the duo had to do the same with akumatized villains. But this battle seemed like it would never end. The two were so equally matched, so well-balanced, and so familiar that neither seemed able to hold the upper hand for long. That is, until Ladybug bent the rules a little.

“LUCKY CHARM!”

As Ladybug activated her power with a swing of her glowing yoyo, Chat Noir groaned and shouted, “Hey, c’mon! No powers!”

“Sorry, chaton!” she returned as a red and black fabric fell into her hands. “A sheet?” she muttered. “What can I do to him with this?”

Chat’s cheeks burned at the cheeky response that popped into his head. Behave yourself, Agreste! She is a lady!

Ladybug settled for waving the red sheet in a matador fashion “Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty! Come and get me!”

“You sure are terri-bull at understanding cats, milady.”

“And you’re terrible at understanding girls, Chat” she thought in response.

She disappeared down the side of the Eiffel Tower. Chat Noir paused before pursuing her, punching a fist into the air as he shouted,

“CATACLYSM!”

(I didn’t write this transition. Oops!)

He fell right into her cat-trap, the corners of the sheet wrapping around him and closing at the top as ladybug’s yoyo tightened around it. Chat kicked and clawed about inside but the material didn’t tear. “Game over, Chat!” Even from within the dark confines of the trap, Chat Noir could guarantee that Ladybug was just below him, hands on her hips and smiling smugly.

“Be careful milady. You just might let the cat out of the bag.”

“Huh?”

(He extends his baton, breaking open the trap, and falls on top of Ladybug. He somehow manages to roll her up in the sheet and is kneeling over her)

“Well, aren’t you snug as a bug in a rug?”

“Fine, you won. Good for you.”

“With that charm, my lady, one day you just might get lucky.”

Ladybug blushed uncomfortably. “Ugh, Chat stop.”

“Why?” He grinned and leaned closer to her face. “Am I bugging you, beautiful?” Something snapped in Ladybug then. By then she had freed one hand and used it to push Chat out of her face. “Seriously, can you quit it?” She squirmed out of the sheet and brushed herself off. “The puns are one thing, but do you have to be so obnoxiously flirty?”

“Woah, woah!” Chat held up his hands defensively, trying to reassure her. “Calm down. I was only-”

“Only what, alley cat?” Once she got started, it was hard for her to stop.

“I…uh…” Chat’s face burned with embarrassment, beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck.

She jabbed a finger at his chest. “Look, Chat. If you want to be an egotistical flirt with other girls, that’s fine by me, but I’m your partner. I’m not some mouse for you to chase, so just stop!”

A wave of dejection fell over his face, and Ladybug realized she’d gone too far.

“Oh. Um… I’m sorry, my la- uh Ladybug.” He rubbed at his arm. “I’ll leave you alone.” He took a few steps back before turning and running off.

Ladybug reached out her arm. “Chat, wait!”

He bounded way without so much as a glance back at her. Ladybug bit her lip anxiously. She had only been trying to stand up for herself - just like Alya taught her - but maybe in the heat of the moment… she had misjudged him. Ladybug pulled out the tracker on her yoyo.

She found Chat sitting on a bench beneath the Eiffel Tower. He was arched forward with his elbows on his knees and head resting on the heel of one hand. When she landed a few yards away from him, his black ears twitched and he closed his eyes with a sigh. Ladybug crept forward, wringing her hands nervously. “Chat? I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m sorry.” He didn’t respond. Ladybug sat down beside him. “Really, uh- Eiffel Tower-bly about it.”

Chat opened his eyes in surprise and he finally looked over at Ladybug. She smiled apologetically at him and he gave in.

“I’m sorry too. I thought maybe…” he trailed off and shook his head. “Forget it.”

“Chat, please…” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I misjudged you because… I don’t really know you. I need you to talk to me.”

Chat took a quick glance up at her eyes and seemed to find the reassurance he needed. He took a deep breath.

“Well, growing up, I was… pretty isolated. I was home-schooled for most of my life and I always felt this pressure to act and talk a certain way. I had no freedom… and no friends… until the day my miraculous showed up. All of a sudden, I had this freedom to be whoever I wanted to be, but I didn’t really know what to do with it. Like I said… I haven’t had much experience socializing – especially not with… girls – so I’ve been basing a lot of my behavior on… um, anime.”

“That actually explains a lot…”

“It seemed to work for Tamaki-

“Yeah, but Haruhi fell in love with Tamaki despite his flirty and over dramatic nature, not because of it! Was he even paying attention?”

“-so I thought I’d uh… try it on you.”

“Haha, well you clearly chose the wrong guinea pig!”

“What? No, Ladybug, you’re not a guinea pig. I… I love you.”

“Really?” “Chat, I had no idea you felt that way…”

“Well, now that the cat’s out of the bag… you don’t happen to have feelings for me too, do you?

“I uh-”

“And once again, curiosity killed the cat…”

“Chat, I just don’t think it would be a good idea to date when so much is on the line.” She pulled at one her pigtails nervously. “We have responsibilities and-”

“Ladybug, you don’t have to lie on my behalf.”

“I do like you, Chat. Really. I mean, maybe not when you’re imitating cartoon characters, but… beyond that, you’re smart, brave, selfless… you’ve sacrificed your safety for mine on more than one occasion! You’re the best partner I could ask for… but the thing is, I… I’m already in love with somebody else. And who knows if anything will come of it, but-” she bit her lip. “I can’t change the way I feel. I’m sorry, Chat.”

That’s it! Again, feel free to use ANY of this! And if you do, send me a message so I can check it out if I ever come back by Tumblr in the future :) BYE!!!

#miraculous ladybug #mtolacn #wip #free content #bye!#sometimes I say words #sometimes i draw art #sometimes i write stories #mine #my art #my fics #stranger things #mystic messenger

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silverhands-etcetera · 5 years

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Commando.

Back on the road, for the better part of a day. Weather was going in & out of squalls and sunshine while we were threading the needle out and around Antwerp & through the Netherlands.

We had said goodbye to our Belgian family. We left Bert on the platz in Temse, Slien on a train back to Ghent. We stayed with our new friend Reit, in her giant house in Bazel, and in the morning after coffee, she and Filip, and even Ginger the dog all followed us to the van to wish us happy travels to Berlin.

The logistics of getting to Berlin, -the time and trouble of crossing a patch of land so broad, can’t be rectified with any schedule or budget. At different points within the planning stages of this trip we had a gig leading either to or away from the show in Berlin. But that’s not how it went down. Newly blessed with the luxury of a full day to drive, and the potential of a full day of leisure and exploration in a major European metropolis, we found ourselves rolling onto the Hasenhiede a little after 10 pm, ready to soak up all that this city could throw at us.

—

I walked the Via de la Plata for several weeks last year, before making the northern detour to the Camino Frances. The sparseness of the trail down south forced an immediate collegiality between the handful of walkers on the same itinerary. Many close bonds came out of spending weeks or more in the same space & taking care of each other.

When I took the left turn on the Camino Frances, I was slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of pilgrims walking the trail. The small family vibe of Via de la Plata was replaced by the total anonymity of a large, moving city. But one day at a detour on the trail, I happened to fall in step with an english speaker, -a scottish woman named Kate. We had a brief chat & a coffee and parted ways, only to find each other again at the next cafe, where Kate invited me to continue together a bit longer.

On a busy, overpopulated superhighway of pilgrims of every stripe, I had been unable to gravitate towards anybody on the same page. But we walked for the entire day, talked about basically everything & ended up at a hippie vegan hostel out in the middle of nowhere. We had a shot of bad blended scotch in the one bar in town, and in the morning we parted ways, after exchanging numbers and taking a fuzzy snapshot.

Kate went back to Glasgow after she finished the Camino, but her wandering took her to Berlin. (you might have been wondering where I was going with this). When we parked the van on Hasenheide, and trudged down the street with guitars on our backs & suitcases in hand at 10pm, it was Kate’s sweet Scottish brogue that called down to us from a third floor balcony, and buzzing us in to our home away from Lövenich.

It was good to see her. It was late. She had a busy day tomorrow, so she couldn’t join us for a drink just now.

Ok, maybe just one.

Down past the Hermannplatz, past the weird mushroom sculpture, there’s a row of bars -every one of them way too hip for the likes of me. Especially when I’m holding a paper bag with three big pretzels in it.

Kate meshes in with the band immediately. It doesn’t seem to matter where you are from, if you have seen enough of the world, you’ll always find a point where your story overlaps somebody else’s. This was the beginning of a recurring theme in Berlin.

—

Morning was dark, overcast. The street outside was puddled and the trees were showing evidence of bluster. I had Dee Dee Ramone’s “Born To Die In Berlin” playing in my head. I wished I had some decent gloves.

We had instructions to get to the best local bakery/coffeeshop, the Albatross Bakeri. Enough beautiful shining croissants, uber-cool statuesque baristas, and rich espresso drinks to make the Herkimer look like a Tukwila Starbucks. We could barely get a table, it was like we stumbled into a movie set without knowing what our lines were, or even what the scene was.

Leaving the Albatross, we headed north to the canal where we stumbled across an open market that spanned three blocks along the water. Sherri bought some oranges. At the next bridge we crossed over & took a turn to the right. We were crossing under the rail line when I think Sherri & I both spotted an awning on a shop across the way, which had a very deliberate-looking CBGB resemblance. We were drawn in, cutting across the median to get a closer look at what turned out to be a museum of Ramones memorabilia -The Ramones Museum Berlin.

My path through music goes in a lot of directions, but the reason I am here is the Ramones. I grew up nowhere near NYC, and I never heard them until long after their heyday, but hearing the Ramones sealed my fate for basically the rest of my life. The mythical characters and the songs worked their way into my being.

In the back room of this coffeeshop in Berlin, we accidentally stumbled upon handwritten lyrics in Joey’s OCD scrawl. Early posters & photographs. Joey’s pants. The pinhead mask. Odds & ends that I could spend days studying.

Near the back of the first room was a worn out Ampeg amplifier & cabinet. -Dee Dee’s bass amp. Like, the amp that Dee Dee plugged into & stood in front of every night. Most of the numbers were worn off of the faceplate and a couple of the knobs had been replaced with Rickenbacker-style guitar knobs. I don’t get affected very often by musical instruments, and I am rarely starstruck, but standing there in front of Dee Dee’s amp, I felt actual chills. He was always too much of a mess to be a real kind of hero to me, his personal and addiction issues defined his image so much and I couldn’t relate to those parts of his persona. Dee Dee was the one guy in the band who was swept up by what he was doing, the real working artist in the band -the guy I have the most respect for. Still somehow it was always easier for me to commiserate with Joey’s internal neuroses than with Dee Dee’s self destruction, but I loved his songs. He was the dark cloud that balanced out Joey’s pop and rainbows. They were both uniquely poetic and silly as songwriters, but Dee Dee was what made the Ramones heavy.

We hung out in that place for about two hours. I had forgotten the strong tie between the Ramones & Germany, specifically Dee Dee and Berlin.

Only in this city could I leave a place like this, that hit me so far inside of my own identity and understanding, only to walk a few blocks and be in the shadow of something that was a ubiquitous menace to half of the world, for decades of the cold war. I don’t have the perspective to find even half of the emotions still contained in the stretch of Berlin Wall that currently hosts the East Side Gallery. The feeling is just as overwhelming standing there looking at an old bass amp as it is walking next to an old concrete barrier, but the difference is, here next to The Wall you can’t escape it. It’s not a feeling that you keep inside of yourself, and you can’t just step away from it. Somebody put this here, to keep people where they wanted them to be. A million different people have looked at this wall from both sides for decades and have felt a million different things. The energy directed towards this structure over the years is still palpable as you walk by it.

The Wall ends half way through a block, giving you time to reset your bearing with a few retail shops & some new construction. You’re feeling almost normal again as you reach the next canal to cross back. We paused at a photo booth, and I popped into a ranch-style compound to get a beer to share while the pictures developed.

—

Aimee & I headed up in the van to the venue. The tech rider from the club insisted that drums were not allowed, but we would see about that. The first band was already loaded in -just a 2-pc, but with tons of gear, mostly electronic. Aimee had a short conversation with the sound engineer when he showed up, and before I knew it we were loading in the snare & hats. We spent about 45 seconds on soundcheck & ceded the stage to the other band. The room sounds good, we know what we’re doing, we’ve got a ton of drink tickets in our pockets.

—

On the Via de la Plata there’s just a few cities that I can remember by name. Zamora is one of that I’ll always recall, because it’s a beautiful city, and also because that’s where I met Ina & Jenny.

Jenny lives in Hamburg, she’s the younger sister, and Ina, the slightly older sister lives in Berlin. We walked from Zamora to Benevente, with a zig-zag along the way, spending almost every night in the same houses for a little over a week & a half. They were the last remnants of the southern crew of walkers that I fell in with before I joined the Camino Frances, and we all took the last diversion to Benevente together before they departed the camino. They were a great team -I enjoy watching families interact with each other outside of their inner circle. They would walk together all day, arriving leisurely at the hostels late in the afternoon, still arm in arm. We shared lots of cervezas on the patios in the evenings with the other peregrinos, talking about what the world looks like from the shoes we’re in, while Ina would draw little masterpieces with pen & ink on little blank index cards. I still have two of her original creations on a windowsill at home. Geometric & ambiguous, evocative symbols waiting for you to affix an emotion to them. -to me they’ll always look like cool overcast evenings, that Tracy Chapman song, damp stone floors and news from back home, from when Steve was still with us. That’s a lot of weight for a few lines of ink to carry, but it’s all still there to this day.

—

We were sitting at a table upstairs at the gig, having a beer, when a hazel-blonde woman bundled in a felt cloak walked to a table across the room. She scanned the room as she unwound her scarf, and her eyes eventually settled on our table. It was Ina, looking exactly like the urban version of the pilgrim I met on the trail. Cooler in her general understatement than any of the precious hipsters in the joint.

The convergence of two emigrants from the upper Mississippi valley, one native of Oban, three peregrinos, two Berliners, and one child of the GDR settled in around our little table -Just me, Aimee, Kate & Ina.

I’m not an incredibly outgoing personality, in opening up & making friends out of strangers, but here we were, a gang of travelers loosely tied, all in the van, cranking Big Star while traversing the streets of Berlin, picking up Sherri on the way, imagining producer credits and guest star billing being superimposed on our windshield somewhere in post-production.

Back at the gig, we returned in time to catch the opening band. Heavy on the loops and reverb decay. Ina & me & Aimee sat in a row of stools in the back, enthralled by the not-so-subtle theatrics.

I like following a band so different than us. The room sounds so good, we were able to play it like another instrument. I could hear every nuance of our singing, and the guitar could get nearly silent, giving us plenty of headroom for building up when we needed to. The little room was nearly full, and the people gushed their approval after each song. When we finished, the first four dudes who approached me had their phones out asking “are you on Spotify?” -Berlin is not a place for sales of hard copies. But they ate up the stickers and I helped them all find us on their favorite streaming platform. The times they do change.

2am, the ranks had thinned down. Kate & Aimee & I were at the Burgermeister, eating burgers & fries we didn’t even know we needed. A dude walked up to us & says “excuse me, were you just playing music up the street earlier? I really enjoyed your music.” We’re huge with the Burgermeister crowd. Long day in Berlin, so many directions, so good.

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