the brainworms are kiiling me. have a dad and son 👍︎

Jangobi 5 for the soulmate thing? Because that would make the fight on kamino just *chef's kiss*

soulmate au prompts

5. the one where you don’t know your soulmate until you touch them.

Apparently there’s never any skin to skin contact in the movie? Because armor? So......... we’re gonna just. Quick little thing.

Also I’ve been doing a lot of “marginally less shitty” Jango, but this is just-as-shitty-as-canon Jango. It’s, uh, not much of a romance, because Kamino. Actually it’s mostly just a lot of angry yelling about human rights violations.

...I’m sure they’ll get together eventually. It’s just, you know... it’s going to take a while.

------

Jango’s heard about this Jedi.

The man isn’t famous, or particularly acclaimed. It’s just that Mandalorians gossip, and Death Watch isn’t exempt, and Dred Priest still has friends in the terrorist group. So do a few others.

(Jango sometimes wonders if he’d have invited Priest, had he knows the monster was only a step away from being Death Watch himself.)

(Probably not.)

(He’d at least have been able to see the battle circles coming.)

Death Watch hates one specific Jedi above all others: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It’s almost enough to make a man like the pretty bastard, except the reason Death Watch hates this specific Jedi is because he kept Duchess Kryze alive, and Jango isn’t much of a fan of hers, either.

In the moment, though, the main thing this all means is that Obi-Wan Kenobi knows Mandalorian customs.

First meetings, out of armor, mean ensuring the arm clasp has skin contact.

His eyes flick down to where Jango is reflexively pulling up his sleeves, and the man just... does the same, sodden as the beige-on-brown-on-dark-brown robes are.

Jango can’t just play it off. He has to, ugh, arm clasp with a Jedi.

Kenobi probably guesses how unpleasant this is for him, going by the grim little smile that he wears, the one Taun We can’t read and Jango can, but they touch forearms and le--

They do not let go.

“Oh kriff,” Kenobi swears, and then it’s just... it’s too late. It’s too late to stop anything.

“Jetii,” Jango spits as if it’s a swear.

He doesn’t want to be soulmates with a Jedi. No sane person ever wants to be soulmates with a Jedi, but as a Mandalorian, and as specifically Jango Fett, who signed onto this project for revenge against Jedi, the idea is just... excruciating.

“For revenge? Not entirely unexpected, but I’m still somehow disappointed.”

“Stay out of my head.”

Kenobi smiles at him, completely devoid of anything but the blackest of humor. “Are you staying out of mine?”

And, well, no. They’re soulmates. Kenobi has more of an idea on how to control how far his mind wanders into Jango’s, but in this moment, just seconds after being bound together by the universe... Jango’s slamming into Kenobi’s shields with an embarrassing lack of control.

“Is something the matter?” Taun We asks.

“I do believe we need to speak alone,” Kenobi says. “Unfortunate timing, but this is our first meeting, and it appears we are soulmates.”

“Ah. We were informed of the human tendency towards such.” She blinks, too large eyes impossible to read for Kenobi, but entirely readable for Jango after all these years. She’s irritated. “I apologize, but it appears we were unable to remove such unpredictability from the product.”

A wave of revulsion leaks out of Kenobi’s mind and into Jango’s. The man just nods. “I understand. As it is, I imagine that the near instantaneous communication on the battlefield will be a boon, if any are bonded to each other or to active soldiers.”

“I defer to your judgement as client, Master Kenobi,” Taun We hums, still irritable. It’s less visible in her face, but... Kenobi can feel it. “I shall leave you to get... acquainted.”

Aaaaaaaand she’s expecting them to sleep together the second she turns her back. The disgust she feels at the thought of such carnal activities is thirdhand to Jango, but he can still feel it, because Kenobi can feel it, because they’re soulmates.

“Oh, do tell me how you really feel,” Kenobi mutters, sweeping past him into the apartment.

Jango wishes he could slam the door as he storms after the Jedi.

“Listen here--”

“Absolutely not,” Kenobi says, with the kind of bland, impersonal smile that Jango’s heard Dred Priest bitch about at least a dozen times. “I need you to answer me this: why are you selling your children into what is clearly slavery?”

“They’re not my children.”

“You choose to be dar’buir, then?” Kenobi clucks a tongue, acting like he can’t even feel Jango’s waves of hate that are just growing by the second. “Shame on you, Mand’alor.”

“I am not the Mand’alor.”

“No. You are demagolka,” Kenobi says, the sweet words of Jango’s first language falling from his lips like poisoned honey. “They are your children, Fett. Your clones, just as human as you.”

“They are little more than droids, Jedi. The Kaminoans--”

Kenobi laughs, sharp and bitter, and it’s enough of a surprise that Jango stops talking. The Jedi strides closer, and it takes everything in him to not step back at what little emotion the Jedi allows through.

“Let me show you,” Kenobi hisses, putting a hand on either side of Jango’s head and it’s too much this is not a sense he is meant to have.

Kenobi cannot lie to Jango, not in this mental space. Not in this existence. He can cherry-pick what he shows, he can exaggerate, he can hide, but he cannot present a falsehood.

What Kenobi shows him, as he pulls Jango into his mind and drowns him in the sensation of the Force, is how each and every clone shines, bright and unique and so very human, so very sentient, so very alive.

These are your children, Kenobi says, directly into his mind and with no room to pull away. If they choose to disown you for your crimes against them, then that is their right, but until they do, they are your responsibility. You’re playing in denial and cognitive dissonance, soulmate mine. If I have to drag you into caring for your children the way any Mandalorian would, then so be it.

“Kriff off,” Jango manages to grit out in the real world. Kenobi looks unimpressed, when he lets go. The sensations in Jango’s mind, the jangled distaste and horror and anger, those are worse.

“Are you going to be dar’manda?” Kenobi demands. “You, who were once king of your people, have you really sunk so low to be the worst of your kind? To be so horrible that even Kyr’tsad would be shamed? Or worse, approve?”

“You have no place--”

“You are violating one of the core tenets of your culture!” Kenobi shouts. “You are being the worst of what you could be, Jango Fett! The most important, the absolute most important element of your culture, the care and nurture of children, and look at what you’ve done--”

“The clones--”

“Your sons!” Kenobi growls at him. “Your children, Fett. I’ve a student that is, by every Mandalorian standard, my son. I know what it is to take in a child that is not yours by blood, to raise a foundling, and you are cutting off millions that are your blood. You aren’t turning away an orphan to another family because you cannot care for them as they deserve, you are breeding your children for war like bantha to slaughter.”

Jango throws the first punch.

Kenobi throws the second.

By the time the fight ends, the room is in ruins, for all that they do not draw blasters or sabers. Kenobi has Jango on his back, straddling his chest with knees on his wrists, a vibroblade to his neck. Kenobi’s lip is bleeding, and Jango thinks he might have caused a hairline fracture in the cheekbone. Both of them have at least one broken rib, and Jango’s currently blind in one eye from the blood pouring out of a cut on his forehead.

Kenobi’s a good fighter. If it weren’t for everything else, Jango might have even been able to appreciate that.

“You,” Kenobi growls, fisting one hand into Jango’s curls and yanking for emphasis, earning himself a snarl in return. “Are going to fix this mess you’ve helped create. If I have to drag the entire Jedi council, the entire senate, if I have to drag in all of Mandalore to make you fix this, I will.”

There’s determination in those words, angry and a little spiteful, but mostly just... disappointed.

“Of course I’m disappointed,” Kenobi spits out, like the words are hot coals. He’s expressive. Jango wants to like it, but mostly he just resents the trait. “I hoped to never find a soulmate; it just complicates things. Opsec becomes a nightmare and holding to the code is difficult. And now I have a soulmate, and he’s an absolute monster that views his own children as little more than droids.”

“War is going to come for them no matter what,” Jango manages to say, and Kenobi’s look is back to unimpressed. “Don’t pretend you haven’t heard of the separatists. There’s an army of actual droids, metal and code, just waiting for the right moment to pick a fight. It’s too late to stop it.”

“...you’re not only raising an army of your own children, but engineering the war that’s going to kill them?” Kenobi almost screeches, and the wave of nauseous loathing that slams into Jango is almost enough to make him actually vomit. Kenobi didn’t pull punches, not in the actual fight and not in whatever mental battle they’re apparently having via emotions and words.

“I’m not engineering it,” Jango says. “I’m just one part in a bigger machine. I got my payment. The rest is on Tyranus.”

He doesn’t even stop the images from flickering through his mind, throwing the man who hired him under the speeder.

“Master Dooku?” Kenobi whispers, horror growing. “No, no, I killed the--the Sith can’t--I killed the one on Naboo, and the Council mentioned the Rule of Two, but... oh hells.”

“You know him?” Jango taunts.

“He’s my grandmaster,” Kenobi says, and Jango can’t imagine the rest is meant to reach him, but the undercurrent is there.

Count Dooku is, by Mandalorian law, Kenobi’s grandfather.

Jango... suddenly feels a little regret about the taunting.

“I’d rather you feel regret about your children,” Kenobi snaps at him. “Every single one of them is a person, one that you chose to bring into this world, and they are your children.”

The argument is going in circles, but there are still places to take this.

“Your army is all adults, Kenobi,” Jango decides.

“They are ten years old,” Kenobi retorts. “Accelerated aging, sure, but they are children.”

“They’re soldiers.”

Disgust again, the same thing Kenobi has felt every time Jango has reasserted the purpose these children were born to, the same thing Jango has told his son, his sergeants, himself, for over a decade.

“A son?” Kenobi whispers. “Is your denial that strong, Fett? That you would claim one and not the rest?”

“Payment,” Jango says, and lets Kenobi feel the rest, since he seems so karking keen on it.

“Keeping one child in exchange for letting yourself be the creator of a slave army,” Kenobi says, and he doesn’t seem impressed. “Weren’t you a slave? Two years on a spice ship, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare--”

“And you would put your sons in chains,” Kenobi hisses, hands going for Jango’s head again. It’s a sense memory, this time, of dark tunnels and exploding collars and a dar’jetii that... was his older brother. According to the Jedi way of thinking.

It’s a twisting fear and pain and I will die so that others may live while looking at an older man, a Master, who can maybe save the other slaves at the expense of one too-angry Initiate’s li--

“Get out of my head!” Jango roars, and he still can’t move his arms, and his legs are held down by the Force, but he twists his head to bite and Kenobi snatches his hands away.

Kenobi glares down at him, almost sneering with the amount of disdain he has for Jango’s general existence. “I’m your soulmate, and had we met fifteen years ago, I might have even thought that an alright thing... but whatever you are now isn’t something I can abide by. You won’t listen to morality, so let me say this instead: a Jedi does not kill an unarmed opponent, but I have full authority to arrest you, even here. I will take you back to the Republic, to be tried for your collusion with a Sith, and you will go to prison. You can try to run, but I am in your head, and you’re in mine. Once you’re in prison, what happens to your son?”

The implication is there, but even if it wasn’t, Jango hears the thought:

They’re soulmates. The Republic would place Boba with Kenobi.

He refuses to have his child raised by a holier-than-thou Jedi.

“Holiness doesn’t have any meaning in Jedi philosophy,” Kenobi says, relaxing just the slightest bit. “Other religions, yes, but no place in ours.”

“You’re a self-righteous bastard,” Jango says flatly. “Despite threatening a child.”

“You mean threatening to take custody of a child being raised in an unhealthy environment, one where he’s being taught to devalue his brothers, engendering a mental dissonance where he has to convince himself he’s special for a reason and that you won’t just drop him if he fails to be perfect?” Kenobi asks. “I prefer to keep children with guardians who love them, but the argument that he’s better off away from you isn’t a difficult one.”

“Oh, like a child-stealer--”

“My mother tried to drown me when I was a toddler,” Kenobi says, even flatter than Jango had been a minute earlier. “Because I was Force-Sensitive, and it was considered curse on my home planet. A Jedi saved me. Tell me that was a kidnapping and not being saved.”

Jango grinds his teeth. “You’re damned smug whenever you have some sob story that outranks mine.”

“This isn’t about who has the bigger sob story,” Kenobi says, and Jango can feel how he’s just as ready to start clenching his jaw to deal with Jango’s bullshit. “It’s about you doing your damned job as a Mandalorian and a father, and taking responsibility for your children. All three million of them.”

It really, really is a pity they didn’t meet before Jango took this job. They could have been great together.

As it is, Jango goes for the groin shot the second Kenobi lets him back on his feet.

Treasure Hunter AU

I binged watch the Mummy trilogy while i had no wifi/internet for a while and I had an idea for a treasure hunter Mari with Daminette.

--------

Damian was bored.(age: 22-28 years old.)

At a gala party.

Meets Marinette who was equally bored.(abt the same age as D)

He finds out she was the finder of this famous artifact on display.

-----

Damian tugged at his collar, scanning the crowd. His father needed a plus one to show up with and everyone else were busy.

He grabbed a champagne flute and made his way to the edge of the room.

He found a woman in a black evening gown, looking as bored as he felt. short dark hair. Blue eyes.( I suck at describing people after the third time doing it. It feels overrated)

"Hello, stranger. You bored with mingling in with the assholes on their high horses?"

"Should I be offended?"

"We will see. Depends on you."

"How about you? A beautiful lady like you not kissing up their asses to climb the social ladder. That is strange."

She made a face. "Trust me. I don't want to be here but my friend wanted family time so I came in his place. What about you? Why are you here?"

"I am pretty sure my father wanted someone to get him out if the vultures came too close."

"Vultures, adept descriptions. I am glad no one realized who I am yet or i would be in their claws."

"Who are you representing, anyways?"

"Myself but Adrien or Kagami usually comes in my place but tonight, they have their son's play to go to."

"Adrien and Kagami. Aren't they the Agreste-Tsrungi?"

"Yep."

"You are the Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Globe trotting Treasure hunter and also world-class designer, MDC."

"Now you know. What's your name, handsome stranger?"

"You don't know?"

"Hey. Like you said globetrotting treasure hunter. I am not up-to-date on the news front. And when I am in Paris to do designer stuff, i am too busy to look at the news."

He gave her his hand, "Damian Wayne. Son of Bruce Wayne who is a billionaire and owns Wayne Enterprise."

She shook it.

"Pleased to meet you."

She stills design but like sent her designs to Adrien at least once every month, who had rebranded Gabriel to Miraculous Designs.

Some ppl thinks he did it to spite his father, who is in jail. Adrien and Mari has a partnership thing.

Mari also makes clothes but for a few months. And the rest of the time is spent travelling.

Exclusive designs from MDC are rare but the designs hand made by her are rarer so they are like a really big deal. They have the most amazing details. Really expensive and limited edition.

The rest of the time Mari spends finding Miraculouses (Miraculi ?) lost in the world so if she happens to find a few priceless artifacts that aren't the Miraculous. She donates it.

Alix helps and sometimes go find them with her.

She has Tikki and Plagg and maybe Wyazz all the time to look for curses and counter it.

She has also met John Constantine. They have an arrangement of sorts. A few magical artifacts that doesn't have to Miraculous business are given to him in exchange for any miraculous stuff he has or found.

Adrien funds her trips.

He is married to Kagami.

Kagami goes with Mari and Alix for a few months sometimes. Adrien likes being a stay at home dad.

Their kid is named Marin/Martin because it was Mari who got them together.

The few trips Mari dragged him on was enough to make him stay behind and run the business.

(Back to the story) Damian fangirled a little because Mari had been doing stuff like this since she was 18.

It was an amazing reputation she has.

She invites him to her next trip after questioning his skill sets.

------

"Are you good with heights, dark scary places and adventuring into the unknown?"

"Yes"

"You any good with guns, swords, knives, booby traps and keeping calm under pressure?"

"Yes. I have many experiences with them."

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes. Why are you asking me this?"

"Wanna join me on my next trip to the jungle of China? There are myths about some hidden temple."

------

Damian was a little conflicted.

He hadn't have the chance to explore the world much. He had been somewhere else for a mission (for the League of Shadows or JL business) but never for pleasure.

Being a vigilante by night and working at Wayne Enterprise by day gets a little boring after some years.

His brothers had a chance to travel the world on their own for a while. Sure, for reasons other than sight-seeing and looking for something to break out of the rut he was in. But still.

This was an exciting opportunity but a tad suspicious.

-----

"Why me?"

She looked surprised at that.

"Oh. Well, my friends enjoy coming with me on my adventures, treasure hunting and all that every now and then except Adrien but they have other things in their life to come with me all the time. I can mostly survive on my own most of the time but it gets lonely travelling on my own and it's nice if someone is there to watch my back. I understand if you don't want to come. It's just that I enjoy your company and you aren't like those assholes on their high horses. My gut feeling says I can trust you. You are not after the treasure or see it as one big game. You are looking for an escape. You would definitely catch me if I fall. As you know from my choice of friends, i have a bad habit of pulling rich kids from their stuffy lifestyle and take them on potentially life-threatening adventures." She joked. Then she lowered her voice, "Besides, it might be handy having a former assassin around."

She said in Arabic.

His hand went to his hidden knife and found it not there.

"Looking for this?" She said, holding it.

"How much do you know?" He hissed back in the same language.

"Relax," she gave back the knife, "my mother was one and I have accidentally came across a few in my adventures. I know one when i see one. I took a stab in the dark with your middle-eastern background. Speaking of, you know Talia Al Ghul by any chance."

He narrowed his eyes.

"She's my mother. Why?"

"You look like her. Met her a few times. Nice lady but scary. Mine's Sabine Cheng, goes by the Blue Reaper." She said it so casually like their parents weren't dangerous deadly assassins and had normal jobs.

"You aren't normal, are you?"

"What gave it away?"

"That you willingly gave away blackmail material to me."

"Normal people don't have assassins for mothers. And you and me aren't exactly meeting the minimum standards for normal. Besides, I just told you a family secret that you would have found out anyways with a through background search and a little digging. So far all I know about you is that your parents are Talia Al Ghul and Bruce Wayne-I wonder how an assassin got together with a billionaire-, you are a former League of Shadows assassin, you are great with weapons, keeping secrets and so far meeting the criteria for an adventure buddy. That's all I swear. And that you have some pets. A cat, maybe."

"How you know about my cat?!"

"Cat hair on your clothes." She was good. "If it will ease your mind about me, you can ask me 5 questions that I will truthfully answer. "

"So why are you doing this?"

"That's question 1. Well, I really want whatever this is between us to work. Partners, Friends, Companions, Comrades. Whatever you want to call it. Like I said, I get lonely sometimes and need some human interaction to at least keep myself sane. You looked like you want to be somewhere else and I thought this is perfect. I am not going to tell anyone about you or push you to join me. I swear on my mother's sword."

"Are we killing anybody?"

"Mostly I try to avoid that as much as possible. Sometimes I get into situations with no other alternative. " She looked away guiltily.

"Fair enough."

"Not judging me for that. That's a first for me."

"I am a former assassin and have killed before. I have no right to condemn you for your past."

"How much are you willing to tell me about this hidden temple?"

"That has to do with a secret. I would tell you more when there are less ears around. But this temple was said to hold a magic jewel that grants some powers and it is located really deep in the jungle. Getting there might take months."

"You forgot to mention that last one."

"Oh yeah. You think you can get away for some months. This kind of stuff usually takes a while. Like I said before, no pressure. Anyway, 2 questions left."

"What's my salary?"

"Aren't you a billionaire?"

"My father is. I have a trust fund and I get a salary for doing my job at the company. You are lucky that I just finished with most of my assigned projects so I might be able to come."

"I am so sorry about just assuming things about you. You can say no to the offer. The temple is said to hold some other treasures but I mainly want the jewel. We could auction off a few bits and pieces. I usually just donate them to museums and universities or sell them to those who really appreciate the history. I would also pay for the entire expenses for the trip."

"Can I think about this?"

"Sure. Here's my number. I leave on the 1st of next month. Gimme an answer a week before that so I can make the proper arrangements. It has been fun talking to you, Damian."

She walked away, going towards the buffet table.

------

Back in the car on the way home to the manor.

Bruce asked, "Who were you talking to for that long?"

"Who?"

"The one that gave you her number."

"Oh. MDC. She invited me to join her in China next month to find some hidden temple."

"She did?"

"Yes. Not only that she found out about mother and know what I did before I came here. She doesn't know about Batman, Robin or Crow. And she said she wasn't going to blackmail me but just wanted a companion to go with her. Ideally, it would be best to silence her before she digs any further into me but I trust her. I sincerely believe that she meant it when she said that she's not going to tell on me. And I am really tempted to take up on it."

"What do you want to do?"

"On one hand, i would be gone for months so there won't be Crow in Gotham for a while and I have a few projects I need to finish up. On the other hand. Father, I have been a vigilante for over 10 years now and I haven't really done much out besides that, school and now work. I have appreciated all you have done for me over the years. But I want to go with her. Do something that is not connected to Batman or Wayne or Al Ghul. Just a little something different for myself."

"You can go if you want. I am not going to stop you. I will make arrangements so the projects would be done by someone else. The others can cover your patrols. You are still young so it is understandable to want some fun every now and then."

"Thank you, Father."

Bruce put his hand on his shoulder.

"I am proud of you as Crow and as Damian Wayne. But if you want to go find some hidden temple in China just for a break from this life, to be just Damian, go for it. There are worse things you could do. Just tell me if you are going to go on any future trips like that." (I don't know DC much, sorry if that is a little OOC but I like good dad! Bruce.)

-------

Damian dialed the number on the card.

"Hello"

"I accept your offer, miss MDC."

"Damian? Right, text me your email address. I will sent you things you would need to pack and flight details. And can you come by to the Gotham Rose Hotel tomorrow? I will give more details on the temple."

-------

Damian comes by the hotel.

Marinette tells him of the kwamis and miraculous and makes him swear to not tell anyone unless they already know.

The hidden temple actually might have a miraculous.

Damian gets a little interested in the akuma situation she mentioned.

Mari doesn't say anything about it much.

When he got back, he goes to the Bat-computer and did some digging.

Ladybug looks a little familiar. Pulls up younger picture of Mari and look at that, she used to be a superhero.

Wonder Woman was kept informed of things and made sure no one goes to Paris without her knowing.

Zatanna helped capture the villain Hawkmoth and end his 2 year reign.

Fast forward, they are in Beijing now, sleeping off jetlag.

The next morning, They get out of the city somehow to the city limits and somewhere remote.

Mari uses Kalki and transports them to the jungle.

They set up camp. Cue Campfire stories.

-----

"I thought getting here would take months."

"No actually, finding the temple would. According to my research and the map I copied through less than legal means, it is somewhere in this general area. There used to a city around here too and the king or emperor pissed off some powerful priest or wizard, take your pick. There was a curse. The city crumbled down and the temple is the only thing standing because the king went there and prayed to the gods for protection. The one who answered his prayers and protected the temple in doing so the king was pressed into service of the god. The king did everything the god said for a while but later, he started to hate it and began disobeying the orders. The god cursed him for his disobedience. The temple he was protected in became his tomb and he was tasked to protect the chest inside the temple for the rest of eternity. Anyone who opens the chest would gain the ultimate power to rule the earth. Thankfully, we are not after the chest. Some powerful crack-head with a misused miraculous tried to find it and open the chest for more power. But he never returned. My theory is that the miraculous is still in the temple. As long as we don't wake up the king or go for the chest, we would be okay."

"What are the guns for? And How did you get them past security?"

"In case of emergencies, an army of undead was mentioned and guns are surprisingly good repellent. Well, most of the time. It's useless if there is a no weapons can kill 'it' rule. Then, it's just a stress reliever. I kept them in a pocket dimension. Makes it easier to get around."

Damian vowed to never let Marinette meet Jason. Judging by the pile of guns and occasional knives and other weapons she took out of the brown satchel which apparently holds a pocket dimension, Jason would adopt her. He wondered if that was all that was inside in.

-------

They packed up and started searching the jungle for hidden temple.

It was a month and a half before they found it.

They bonded a lot during that time.

They had a moment after drinking a little alcohol which Mari has in the pocket dimension. Or Drank a lot of alcohol and had sex.

It was awkward and they both agree to not talk about it again.

Soon after, they found the temple. But it is still a little far away.

But the temple is not the only thing they found. They also found a campsite with many people milling around. Some of them carried guns.

Somewhat rich bastard who overheard their conversation at the gala. Heard treasure and found out where Mari's next expedition is.

Had the help of some scholar who wants to be famous for the greatest find since King Tut.

They found the temple even though they had no magical help, they left 2 weeks before Mari did, so yeah.

Rich Bastard's name is 'Philip Anderson'(This sounds familiar to me for some reason and I can't find out why.) and Scholar is 'Harry Scott'

They have armed bodyguards and some 'hired' help to get the treasure.

Anderson is still rich but his company had been getting losses the past 2 years and this is a quick, easy get rich scheme.

Mari and Damian: "Rich asshole on his high horse."

Anderson doesn't know about the chest but Mari and Damian thinks he does and it was what he was after.

They set up camp a little further ahead of Anderson's

Unfortunately, they were found by Harry. Somehow.

-----

I am going to continue this when I am more awake.

Random Flash Rogue Headcanons

Ideas that pop up a lot in my fanfics and fanart: 

-Mick Rory was a farm kid. 

-Roscoe Neyle Dillon is the son of Reginald Norton Dillon, a well-to-do banker, and Rosa Nicole Dillon, his rather pliant, weak-willed wife. Reginald held his son to punishingly high standards and was quick to criticize, berate, and threaten his son when he failed to live up to them. Rosa never intervened. 

-Roscoe grew up in North Ridge, a suburb of Central City. He is on the autism spectrum, but grew up before it was widely recognized. He was constantly bullied by his peers and was disliked by most of his teachers because of his odd behavior. He had a number of special interests but the most prominent was, of course, tops. 

-Roscoe is one of only three Rogues to attend high school and one of only two to have attended college. Lisa and Hartley also both graduated from high school, and Hartley also went to college. Roscoe studied (possibly has a degree in) physics. 

-Roscoe’s parents currently live in Bridgeville. 

-Mark (Marco) Mardon is the son of Patricia (Paloma) and Matthew (Matias) Mardon, and the younger brother of Clyde (Claudio) Mardon. His parents immigrated from Guatemala when he was a month and a half old and Clyde was about a year old. Both parents were college-educated, which made the process simpler than it otherwise would have been, and the family initially settled in Dunhurst, a suburb of Central City. However, they were never accepted there, and they eventually left the town after persistent harassment from the Clan of the Fiery Cross. 

-They resettled in Bridgeville, and Matias and Paloma went to great pains to hide the fact that they were immigrants, Americanizing their names and refusing to let their sons speak Spanish outside of the home. Patricia became the head of the local library, and Matthew took a job as a teacher of geography at the local high school. The family eventually settled fairly comfortably in the middle class. 

-Clyde was only 11 months older than Mark, so they were always in the same year at school. He was handsome, intelligent, popular, and athletic. Mark, by contrast, was painfully average. He couldn’t live up to the standard set up by his parents’ golden child, and eventually, he stopped trying, knowing that he would never measure up. He and Clyde were very close, but their relationship was often strained by the fact that Mark was so often compared unfavorably to Clyde.

-Mark dropped out of high school at 16 and ran away, eventually drifting into petty theft due to his lack of direction. Clyde, meanwhile, graduated high school early and earned a degree in meteorology. He started work on the Weather Wand when he was still in college, but didn’t finish it until he was 23. He died not long after of congenital heart failure, and then his shiftless younger brother strolled in and took the wand for himself. 

-Samuel Joseph Scudder was born to Percival and Martha Scudder. Unfortunately, Percival contracted cancer a few months before Sam was born and died when his son was only 7 months old, leaving his wife with dozens of medical bills. The Scudders had never been particularly well-off, so Martha was forced to move into an apartment complex on Baker Street, colloquially known as Skid Row, where she would raise her young son. 

-Martha was a talented seamstress, so much so that she was eventually hired by the Rathaways. While this provided steady work, the Rathaways were extremely demanding employers, and so Martha wasn’t able to be at home with her son as much as she would’ve liked.

-Young Sam loved cowboy movies and superhero comics. He was especially fond of the JSA and gathered a collection of JSA comics that he still owns (currently, he hides them in the Mirror Realm so the other Rogues won’t find out about them). He was also a boy scout and eventually became an Eagle Scout. He was highly intelligent and generally did well in school, and he was close friends with Jennifer Conners, who lived in the same apartment complex he did. When they entered high school, the two started dating, and even fantasized about getting married. 

-Unfortunately, life on Baker Street was less than ideal. Sam was embarrassed by the shabby state of his clothes and possessions, had to watch as his mother tried to figure out how to pay their bills, and was surrounded by violence. Fights were common in the apartment complex where Sam lived, and, when he was 15 years old, he and Jennifer bore witness to Jennifer’s father being brutally shot as they came home from school. Both were traumatized. Jennifer began a years-long struggle with PTSD, and Sam’s anxiety levels went through the roof. Not wanting to burden his mother and knowing that they didn’t have enough money for therapy, Sam turned to cigarettes, and then alcohol, in the hopes of relieving his anxiety. As he spiraled into addiction, he got mixed up with the school’s party crowd, and dropped out at 17. He drifted into a life of crime and was sent to prison at age 19 for robbing a convenience store. In this prison, he would mostly break his alcohol addiction, but his smoking habit only got worse. More importantly, however, while serving his sentence for this crime, he would discover the Mirror Realm. 

-Sam loves his mother, but he avoids her because he knows his actions disappoint and worry her. His ex-girlfriend, Jennifer Conners, though continually struggling with PTSD, managed to graduate from both high school and college, and currently works as a school counselor. Sam avoids her, too, but still holds a bit of a candle for her. 

-Mrs. McCulloch’s first name is Eva. She is devoutly Catholic, and, as a result, Evan is also devoutly Catholic (albeit a very confused Catholic). He goes to Mass at least once a week, believes priests are basically infallible, and will threaten to kill you if you so much as look at a nun funny. He goes to Confession at least once a month and would probably go more often if each session didn’t last three hours. 

-Giovanni Giuseppi (James Jesse) is the son of Helen and Alessandro Giuseppi, both of whom are the children of Italian immigrants. He has a very, very, very large extended family, most of whom are in the circus with his parents. Many of them speak Italian; while James isn’t fluent in the language, he can understand it quite well and speak it well enough to get by. The whole family is very emotionally demonstrative and physically affectionate, which is part of why James has no concept of personal space. His relatives include his Zia Catalina (who runs an Italian restaurant), his Nonna Gianna, his Nonno Antonio, his Nonno Aberto, his Nonna Lucrezia, his Zio Luca, his Aunt Stella, his Zio Angelo, his Zia Loretta, his Zia Lucia, his Zio Armani, his Aunt Karen, his Zia Bianca, his Zio Rocco, his Zio Romeo, his Aunt Olivia, his Zia Etta, his Zio Dante, his Uncle Fred, his Aunt Susan, his Uncle Harold, his Aunt Lydia, his cousins Bobby and Susie and Maria and Carly and Matthew and Frank and Julia and Freddie and Joseph and Lucy, and his cousins’ kids, Angela and Charlie and Stefano and Gian and Marsha and Rose and Kaitlyn and Steve. He’s not entirely sure how he’s related to most of them. James’ family is all technically Catholic, mainly because they’re all Italian, but only about half of them are practicing Catholics. 

-James invented the airwalker shoes when he was 13 years old. 

-There was a very large age gap between Leonard and Lisa’s parents when they got married. This is because Larry/Lewis Snart was a 40-year-old creeper who got a 15-year-old girl pregnant. Shirley married him because she had nowhere else to go; her parents kicked her out when she got pregnant. She dropped out of high school soon after, and, after several years of abuse, she ran away, leaving Len and Lisa alone with Larry/Lewis.

-Len is about 5 years older than Lisa; he dropped out of high school at 14 so that he could support her and left home at 18. He continued to send money to her after he left, even after she became a professional figure skater. 

-Lisa’s teenaged years were one long nightmare. She was a beautiful young woman, but because of her background, her mother’s reputation as a loose woman, and her father constantly calling her nasty names, she was demonized by the “nice, proper” people of her neighborhood as a temptress, someone who would lead their sons astray. (This in spite of the fact that they were often the ones making advances on her.) Her father also became increasingly abusive towards her, as Leonard had left the home and, as she got older, Lisa started to remind him of his wife. In response, she threw herself into her figure skating and tried to shut the rest of the world out. By the time she was 16, she was already one of the most talented skaters in the Midwest, and when she was 17, she left her father’s house and moved in with another girl on her skating team for the rest of high school. She graduated with a B+ average and was promptly snapped up by a professional figure skating team. Lisa had managed to escape-at least physically. Her teenaged years left her convinced that her beauty was something dangerous; something evil, and it took Roscoe over a year to break down her defenses when they met. However, once he did, she fell deeply in love. Finally, she had found someone who would never abandon her. 

-Roscoe, for his part, was equally in love. After years of being seen as a socially awkward weirdo, he had found someone who thought he was sophisticated and intelligent; someone who didn’t laugh at his tops and who didn’t seem bothered by his quirks. It was intoxicating. 

-Geraldine is 20 years younger than Hartley; she was born to replace him as the heir to the Rathaway fortune. 

-Hartley’s parents were in their thirties when he was born. Both of them came from long-established “old money” families; their marriage was more the result of a business deal between Hartley’s grandparents than any sort of romantic relationship. Prior to her marriage, Rachel was a Kane. Her uncle was the father of Jacob Kane (father to Kathy Kane) and Martha Wayne (nee Kane), making her the first cousin of Bruce Wayne’s mother. Red hair runs in the Kane family, and she passed it on to both of her children. 

-Similarly, Hartley’s paternal grandmother was originally a Queen before marrying into the Rathaway family. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg: Hartley’s at least a distant relative of most of the wealthiest people in the DCU. 

-Geraldine is on the autism spectrum; she’s able to mask her symptoms well enough that her parents haven’t decided to pull the “let’s fix her with expensive surgeries” trick that they used when Hartley was born deaf. 

-Hartley’s parents engaged him to a girl named Kathryn Kendell, the heir to a fast food corporation, when he was 18; nothing came of it because he got himself disowned before the marriage could actually happen. 

-Hartley’s parents are intensely controlling and basically make all the decisions in their children’s lives without actually asking them for their opinions. 

-Len Snart is prone to ulcers.

-Albert and Rita Desmond have an infant son named Alan. He likes to chew on his father’s Philosopher’s Stone. Alvin adores his “astral nephew” and kept showing up at Albert’s house uninvited to see him. Eventually Albert got tired of Alvin breaking in and put him on their baby-sitting list. Rita is less than thrilled by this but is at least pleased that Alan keeps Alvin from trying to ruin Albert’s life. 

-George Harkness has two half-brothers: an older brother named Tom Harkness, the son of Agnes and Ian Harkness, and a much younger brother named Walter Wiggins, the 12-year-old son of W.W. Wiggins and his wife. (All these characters are canonical, but it’s never actually been officially stated that this is the case.) 

-Jai West idolizes Jay Garrick and plans to take up his costume someday. 

-Josh Jackam-Mardon’s weather-controlling abilities are directly tied to his mood. When he’s happy, it’s sunny and he makes rainbows. If he’s cold, the temperature will increase. If he’s hot, the temperature will drop and it might even start snowing. If he’s sad, it rains. If he throws a temper tantrum, it creates a thunderstorm-and if he’s really upset, a tornado will form. 

-When Barry Allen was 13, he paid the admission fee that was required in order to meet the members of the JSA for both himself and a 9-year-old Sam Scudder. It’s one of both men’s fondest memories, and neither realizes that the other was the boy who met the JSA with him on that day. 

-Axel Walker is the son of Alan Walker and Alice Strickland. His father is a used car salesman who left his wife for Axel’s stepmother, Barbie, when Axel was 7 years old. Axel does not like Barbie and isn’t particularly happy with his father, either. Axel’s mother is Jewish. As such, so is Axel (although Axel doesn’t practice his faith much, if at all.) He can read a bit of Hebrew and speak a bit of Yiddish. 

-Eobard Thawne is convinced that he is an expert in 21st-century technology. The result: “This is a historical device called a toaster. It served as a primitive form of climate control!” 

-Abra Kadabra, by contrast, spends most of his time in the 21st century baffled by the devices used by these primitive savages. What sort of communication device doesn’t send a perfect three-dimensional copy of your body to the person you’re talking to? What kind of food-preparation device takes twenty minutes to cook a meal? Why don’t their hygiene devices instantly clean their bodies of dirt and odors instead of requiring water that’s never a comfortable temperature? HOW DO YOU OPERATE THIS ‘REMOTE CONTROL’? This makes him a very annoying house guest. 

-Mick Rory is an accomplished cook, home repairman, and knitter. 

-Albert Desmond is often so lost in thought that he puts his keys in the refrigerator. 

-All of the Rogues are more scared of Iris Allen than they are of Barry. And with good reason. 

-Owen Mercer is good friends with Joan Garrick. 

-Sam is developing the early stages of emphysema but refuses to admit it because it would mean having to try to kick his smoking habit. 

-Mick Rory’s body is covered by third-degree burns, and his voice is unnaturally raspy because of all the smoke inhalation he’s undergone over the years. 

-Mark Mardon is a horrible klutz. If he can trip over something, he will end up doing it. This is part of why he likes being able to fly so much. 

-Len Snart and Sam Scudder are huge fans of Central and Keystone City’s sports teams. Linda Park-West is among the few who can rival their civic pride in this regard. Evan and Digger are both big fans of rugby and cricket. Hartley is solely a baseball fan; the other Rogues don’t much care about sports unless betting is involved. 

-Mark Mardon watches the weather channel solely so he can make sure that the reporter’s predictions are wrong. 

-Digger loves the great outdoors and can hike for hours.

-Mark Mardon is terrible at cards but gambles constantly anyway. He’s lost more money than he’s ever stolen trying to win bets. James, by contrast, is a master cardsharp. 

-Sam and Roscoe spend more money on clothes (and more time in the shower) than the rest of the male Rogues combined.  

-Dexter Miles knows the birthdays of everyone in the Twin Cities. No one knows how he knows this, he just does. When it’s a Rogue’s birthday, the museum opens a exhibit exclusively about them for a few days. The Rogues don’t know this is intentional and it’s really starting to freak them out. 

-When the Rogues found out that the Flash Museum hires people to dress up as them and teach young visitors about science, Sam Scudder waited for a day when the museum’s ‘Mirror Master’ called in sick and showed up in his place. All the visitors to the museum that day were agreed that he was the best “Mirror Master” the museum had ever had. 

-James once went to the Flash Museum in full costume and stood right by one of the statues of him. He even posed in exactly the same way. He was immediately informed by a patron that he was much too blonde to be the real Trickster. James found the whole experience very amusing.

-Roscoe insists that all the statues of him at the Flash Museum make him look fat. Lisa thinks that’s ridiculous and says that they’re almost as handsome as the genuine article. Len agrees that the statues make Roscoe look fat and thinks it’s hilarious. 

-All three of the Flashes have, of course, been to the Flash Museum while in costume. Like James, they are often told that they don’t look anything like the real Flashes. Barry and Jay are baffled by this; Wally thinks it’s funny. 

-Mick Rory donated his chili recipe to the Flash Museum’s diner. It’s one of the more popular dishes amongst people who love spicy food. 

-Wally is trying to convince his wife to get the kids a pet cheetah. “Come on, honey! It’ll be good for the twins to have a pet who can keep up with them!” 

Soulmate AU part 7!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Damian was not panicking.

Marinette was at his side, her hand securely in his offered arm, and whatever sixth sense produced the electricity between them mellowed as they kept in contact. They were walking the gardens, but aside from their initial introductions, he hadn’t been able to think of a single thing to say that wasn’t overly blunt, didn’t reveal his own confused nervousness, or wouldn’t sound entirely idiotic.

Marinette, for her part, seemed content to walk in silence. Which, from what he’d read from her and what Tim has said about his meeting- which Damian was still scowling about- with her last night, was out of character. But he found that with his own normal faculties so misaligned, he couldn’t exactly hold it against her.

“Here,” she said, letting go of him, and as Damian stopped accordingly he realized she’d drawn him to one of the further greenhouses, which was empty of people. Even with him leading, she’d drawn him somewhere alone, which sent off his internal alarms instantly.

Except that she was his soulmate. And perhaps she just wanted to talk to him for the first time without the threat of the public recognizing him.

He’d been grappling since Tim had mentioned her ability to take him down without warning with the thought that- perhaps, despite what he’d been trying to do for years in making himself someone worthy of being both Batman’s son and Robin, he was still the person who was raised as an assassin, and his soulmate might, possibly, also be on the less savory side of those who knew how to defend themselves.

The immediate revelation about supervillains in Paris and the fact that she knew how to fight like that to protect her life was a point back towards comfort, but he still couldn’t discount it.

And then his whole family had wondered why Tim had stopped to speak with a random civilian on a rooftop in the first place, and he was mostly sure they hadn’t bought Tim’s half assed excuses, so they would surely know about her by noon.

He realized he’d just been staring at her, yet again. Photos didn’t do her eyes justice, he thought, the blue both sweet and dazzling. Her mouth was still curved into a small half smile, the way it had been since she’d spotted him. In her white dress, surrounded by plants and with the natural light filtering in from the windows, she looked almost- angelic.

“I’ll go out on a limb,” Marinette said, eyes meeting his. “We’re soulmates. I’m sure with your status you’ve had people try to fake it, so-“

She moved the neckline of her dress, pulling it low but not scandalously so, until he saw the tidy script of his own handwriting across her shoulder. For half a moment, he wanted to reach out and trace it.

She licked the pad of her thumb and scrubbed it against the mark, but there was no movement, no blurring or smearing.

“You realize that is entirely unnecessary,” He couldn’t stop himself from saying scornfully. “Seeing as how your name is also on my skin. Though you’ll excuse me if I don’t show you.” He chose deliberately not to bring up the electric feeling that still thrummed faintly in the space between them.

“Not everything is as easy as shoulders,” Marinette just shrugged, the motion slipping the dress back into place.

“You successfully pulled me away from any onlookers,” he kept going, and somewhere in his mind he was already despairing over himself. “What did you want?”

She didn’t wince, but it seemed like a close thing. “I wanted to be able to introduce ourselves. Properly.” She sat on one of the garden benches, and he sat beside her. “I know nothing about you.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe you didn’t do hours of research on me when the marks first appeared.” He knew that even in France the Wayne name was well known, even if it wasn’t a household name like in Gotham.

“Did you?” She asked, and he made a face. She laughed in response to it, and it made him want to smile. Before he could think about it to much, he let his mouth tug upwards, sharing just a bit of her infectious joy. “I didn’t think so, somehow. No, when the marks appeared I was entirely in love with someone else, and I refused to look you up out of spite. It was only yesterday after running into you like that, my friends made me look you up.”

He was not comfortable with whatever ugly feeling settled in his chest when she mentioned being in love with someone else, so he firmly pushed it aside. “I googled your last name- two years ago, but I didn’t actually look you up until last night. I have to say, you’ve got quite an impressive resume from that google search alone.”

He didn’t miss the slight twist to her lips. Insecure about her accomplishments, perhaps? He’d have to put an end to that.

He realized he was already very much thinking about her being around for a very long while.

Shit.

“I barely found anything on you, though,” she hummed instead of acknowledging his praise. “Only articles about you arriving here in Gotham, and something about you being presumed dead for a while? But I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that. Do you like animals?”

He felt a bit thrown by her rapid change of subjects but also- grateful, that he wouldn’t have to start immediately lying to her. It didn’t hurt that she’d chosen a favorite topic of his. “I have several. My dog, Titus, who my father gave to me, a cat named Alfred, given to me by our butler, and a cow.”

“Hold on- you have a cow?”

He held back his amusement at her bewilderment. “Her name is Bat-Cow.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He thought it looked cute, like when Alfred had been a kitten, eager to attack his foot when he walked by.

“I’m not sure if I believe you.”

He shrugged. “Bat-Cow doesn’t need your belief to be any more or less real.”

She continued staring him down before finally nodding to herself. “I’ll take it on good faith.”

“Do you have any pets?” He returned the question, still awkward but trying to be as interested in her as she was in him without all of the- quirks of his personality. He was historically not good with first (or continuing) impressions.

“None,” she sighed, “but I desperately want them. If you googled my last name-“

“Ah, the bakery. No pets allowed?” He inferred, and she nodded.

“I’ve always wanted a hamster. Maybe a cat. Although that dream has died off a little in recent years...” She looked more amused than sad, so he let it go. “How do you take your coffee?”

He managed to keep up with her constantly changing topics, flitting from coffee to school subjects to languages. He found himself- for once- falling into actual easy conversation, and she kept up with him just the same. She was smart, he realized as they talked about school, where she told him about being moved up a grade and still taking advanced classes, and whenever he said something a bit too wry and sarcastic her eyes would flit away and one side of her smile would tick up, as if trying not to laugh and agree. He get uncomfortably as if he were flying, the swooping sensation in his stomach uneasy but- she would smile at him again for something and he would find himself hard pressed not to give her a small smile in return. And then they were interrupted.

“Ah, the littlest Wayne.”

The woman at the door was very familiar to Damian. Her long red hair, skin with its faint green pallor- Poison Ivy, but mostly now just Pam Isley, who was practically the reason his father had poured so much into these gardens and other green initiatives.

And she was bleeding from a bullet wound in her side.

TAGLIST:

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hi ! I wanna request an angsty oneshot (with a happy ending,,) of carlos x reader. something where maybe reader suspects carlos is cheating and confronts him and it results in huge agruments or something along the lines of a fight (nothing physical ofc) but it ends up getting resolved in the end?

Author’s note: Before reading, I just want to make thing clear by saying that I have nothing against Valeveira shippers or the ship in itself. If anything, I respect it (as I respect all ships in the RE fandom) and perfectly understand why people ship Carlos and Jill so much (I’m not blind I felt the sexual tension in RE3remake). I have nothing against Jill either. To me Jill Valentine is the Goddess of Resident Evil along with Claire. It is very important for me to say all this because the last I wrote a jealousy-themed one shot that included a RE ship (that was Aeon) I incurred the wrath (and the hate) of a Aeon shipper. So, now that it has been said, enjoy the story.

Green-Eyed Monster - Carlos Oliveira x Reader

           You could feel it eyes upon you. That green-eyed monster staring at you with a mocking smile, slowly poking you towards an overwhelming anger that you know would soon lash out at your boyfriend who couldn’t seem to notice your gritted teeth and clenched jaw as he was talking about the ‘fabulous’ ‘supercop,’ Jill Valentine, for the umpteenth time.         That little monster had been your companion for days, ever since Carlos had renewed contact with his ‘old friend’. And truth to be told, it was not the kind of company that you liked most. It was permanently clenching your stomach with his claws, filling it with a disgusting nausea you didn’t know how to get rid off, and whispering terrible ideas and thoughts in your ear.   But that’s Jealousy right? That sickening fear that someone will take whom you love most away from you. That foul worry that you might not be good enough in the eyes of your loved one. That panic that someone might take your place.       But what if your place had already been taken? What if you had already been replaced?  What if Jill had already stolen Carlos from you? What if … what if all your fears had already happened?

“Is something going on between you and Jill?” You realised what you had just said a couple of seconds after saying them, as if your words had been quicker that your thoughts, as if the little green-eyed monster had taken possession of you and turned you into the mere spectator of the incoming argument. That’s not what you wanted to say. Or was it?   Carlos lost his smile as he seemed to gauge your feelings through his astonished brown eyes, wondering at the same time if he had really heard your silly question. “What did you say?” You did not reply and simply stared at him with cold blankness in your eyes, waiting for him to say something. “Are you asking me if I’m cheating on you?”           He was vexed, almost angry. You could tell it by the way his sudden gravitas was making his voice sound deeper than usual. But he was also hurt, deeply hurt. You only had to listen to the almost-unnoticeable shakiness and slowness of his words.       “Are you?” Two words. One accusation. But enough to make everything blow to smithereens.

“You can’t be serious.” His eyes widened as he put his cutlery on the table, perfectly aware that he would not finish his meal tonight.      Your accusations were enough to digest. “Honestly Carlos, I wish I was joking.” Your composure contrasted sharply with Carlos’ astonishment. He scoffed, refusing to believe you were bluntly accusing him of promiscuity. “Do you really believe I could do that to you? And with Jill?” That name made you slightly shiver and clench your fists on the table. Carlos noticed and he took great offence at your reaction. “Oh come on! We just took a couple of beers together, Y/N!”     “Yeah. Yeah, a couple of beers.” You repeated with a sarcastic smile as you stood up to clear your plate, which was a mere way to end the discussion as soon as possible. “You don’t believe me.” No indeed, you did not believe him. You believed the little monster on your shoulder laughing at you.       “How uncharacteristically perceptive of you.” As much as Carlos loved you wit and sarcasm, he hated when you were acting that way. It had a knack for getting on his nerves in spite of his incredible sweetness and patience. “Jill is a friend. We survived Raccoon City together.”       “That must forge links, I guess.” You declared as you threw your meal in the trash.           “Nothing happened and nothing’s happening.” He harrumphed, raising his tone slowly while he gestured you to stop with your nonsense already.           “But you wished it did.” That was not a question. That was a direct affirmation that was as sharp a knife and that Carlos couldn’t deny. And it stabbed all the trust you and he had placed in your couple.   “It was a long time ago.” He tried to justify himself but you wouldn’t hear what was to you pathetic excuses. “She never wanted me. Everything remained strictly platonic. And then we went on separate ways.” You nodded though you were not convinced, too focused on the little monster whispering ‘lies, lies, lies’ in your ear.         “And now she’s back and everything you can talk about is her. Jill is amazing. That supercop, you should see how she beat the shit of that Nemesis.”

Carlos sighed, getting tired of your jealousy as his legs were fidgeting under the table. He had no reason to blame himself. He was faithful. Always had been. But he sure as hell had also no reason to silently accept your false accusations. “You’re ridiculous.” He mocked. “I’m ridiculous?” You harrumphed with a forced laugh. “You should see yourself and your heart eyes every time you say her name… God, it’s making me sick.” You turned your back on him, unable to look at him in the eyes, and furiously grabbed the sponge to wash the dishes. “Okay, now you’re acting crazy.” Carlos spat and you dropped your plate in the sink, offended by his words. You were not crazy. You knew what you had seen. Your boyfriend’s smile every time he would mention Jill, that spark shining in his eyes every time he would talk about her and her heroism, and more especially him leaving in the evening to have a drink with her, all dolled up and excited, only to come back in the middle of the night, reeking of sweat and alcohol. Sweat, really?   You know they had sex, don’t you? The green-eyed monster murmured.

“Why don’t you just admit that you’re fucking her? So we can properly fight about what’s really going on.” You demanded.           “Because that’s not true!” He half-shouted. “I’m not fucking Jill. How else can I say it so that you can finally understand?” His gestures were wild and frantic and punctuating his words, showing how pissed he was. The Hispanic blood taking over certainly.           “Oh so now I’m stupid? Fantastic.” You humoured and Carlos bumped his fist against the wooden table as he stood up to assert himself.             “What is it that you don’t understand?! Goodness! You’re insufferable.” He growled but you didn’t lose your spunk and chose to stand by your opinions despite how impressive Carlos was when he was angry.       “Then maybe you should go find Jill. I’m sure her presence must be more pleasant than mine.” “You know what? Maybe I will.”

Exhausted by your childishness, Carlos exited the kitchen to go and grab his jacket by the main door of your cosy little apartment, definitely decided to leave the place and put an end to this stupid argument.   “Fine.” You screamed as you followed him. No way you would let him have the last word. “And maybe I will fuck her too so that you’ll finally blame me for something I did.” He pointed a finger at you, looking at you straight in the eye. He didn’t mean that but he was so furious right now he just wanted to hurt you as much as you were hurting him with your lack of trust and your awful accusations.       “Go ahead! Enjoy!” You waved towards the door, welcoming him to pack up and leave though you secretly wanted him to stay.     “Oh I certainly will. Cause I’m sick of sharing my bed with a insecure paranoid like you!” The rebuke hurt. You couldn’t hide it and you resisted the urge to push Carlos out of your apartment. “You know what the insecure paranoid has to say?” You shouted and Carlos slammed the door behind him. “Fuck you!” You yelled, hoping he would here that from the corridor.

You roared, fingers tangled in your hair, furious and more especially pained. But it took you quite an instant to allow your suffering to truly settle as you were still somewhat holding up to the hope that you boyfriend would change his mind and come back to you. It took you the humming of Carlos’ bike in the street slowly fading away as he probably was riding right towards Jill’s arms.

           You cried yourself to sleep that night. Curled up on the sofa with your little green-eyed monster and his new blue friend he introduced as Guilt. And Guilt was as bad as Jealousy, perhaps even more painful. Guilt was the one murmuring all the regrets and remorse he could imagine. Guilt was the one that could tear your heart off your chest and tell you that it was your fault. Guilt was an ugly son of a bitch.

Carlos only came back early in the morning, around 5 or 6 am, with dark circles under his brown eyes, dishevelled hair and an exhausted slow gait. You watched him sit in silence on the couch next to you and take a deep breath. He wanted to say something. He just didn’t know how to say it. You chose not to pressure him and remained still by his side, legs bent against your chest, puffy eyes staring at him. “I was with Jill.”       The confession twisted your stomach in a painful knot and you felt yourself unable to breathe anymore as if your lungs didn’t know how to function anymore. But this time it was not the little green-eyed monster that was causing you this suffering. That was Guilt. “ We talked a lot… about you mostly.” You listened carefully, aware there was nothing you could do, nothing you could say that would make things better now. “She’s the one who convinced me to come back. She helped try seeing things from your point of view. I understand why you got jealous. I guess if I had heard you talking about a guy the same way I was talking about Jill, I would have got jealous as well. But what I don’t get is how you could actually believe I would be able to cheat on you.” The pressure in your body slowly relaxed when you realised that Carlos did not want another argument but merely a calm explanation, something you should have had from the very beginning instead of bawling at each other.   “I don’t know. I guess I was really an insecure paranoid after all.” Carlos briefly chuckled when he spotted your faint smile.           “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I was a jerk and …” You placed a hand on his thigh to cut him short. “No. You were right. And you don’t need to apologize for anything. If anything, I’m the one who should apologize. I was the unreasonable one in this story. I let jealousy get the better of me when I should have listened to you and trusted you. I’m sorry. That won’t happen again.” You promised as you looked him in the eye and Carlos smiled so softly it made your heart melt. How much you had feared not to be able to see that smile again after what happened. “Good. I hate when we fight.” Carlos said as grabbed your hand in his and pressed his forehead against yours.         “I hate when we fight too.” You pressed your lips against his, desiring that healing kiss more than anything right now. And it did heal you. And it made the monsters go away. All was fine now.

Johnny Joestar Headcanons

So, I was really bored and decided to write about my favorite Jojo, 𝓙𝓸𝓱𝓷𝓷𝔂! This is a mix of headcanons with some canon stuff.

So, here we go!

✰ Johnny was that typical doll-like perfect baby: curly blond hair, pale skin, pink cheeks, little freckles and big blue eyes that followed everything with curiosity. The clothes he used to wear also helped to mantain that look: in the Victorian era, babies from wealthy families used to wear dresses with plenty of ruffles, laces, ribbons, buttons and frills -no matter their sex- and bonnets. Nowadays he still has freckles; although not that many. They’re mostly on his cheeks and arms.

✰As we know, Johnny is the youngest of two brothers (being Nicholas 5 years older tan him). This, plus the fact that he also looked really fragile, made his mother really over-protective of him. This was usually seen as Johnny’s being Anne’s favorite, but she only wanted to protect his youngest son. The way his mom treated him made Johnny a shy, yet kind, child. That kindness made him adopt Danny, as well as taking care of Slow Dancer even if he knew that she was old and almost ruthless.

✰ His hair gets wavy in humid weather. When he was a child his hair was a curly mess after taking baths, but now it simply curls in soft waves, which he tries to straighten as much as possible.

✰He was born in Danville, Kentucky; so he has a heavy Southern accent. But since the Joestar family used to constantly travel to Britain -and actually lived there for some years-, Johnny added some British idioms to his vocabulary, thus resulting in a funny combo of British slang said in heavy Southern accent.

✰He grew up in a wealthy family -his father was tied to aristocracy, and also was a famous racer and breeder, having won the Triple Crown seven times and owning farms to breed racing horses-, so he’s a little bit of a spoiled brat sometimes. This status also made him picky over certain things, like food or baths.

✰Johnny was educated to be a “British gentleman” and, even if his own personality sometimes makes him fail at it, he still tries to behave as polite as possible. One habit that stayed with him was the one to note everything down, showing off his fine calligraphy and his accountant skills. The Joestar kid also knows Latin and Greek, as he was schooled. He even went to Oxford for a short period of time.

✰Johnny has never been fond of dark colours; he has always preferred to dress up in light ones. Luckily, they suit him.

✰Since he was a child, he has proved to be very perceptive of his surroundings, as well as being able to read the mood quite easily. Johnny is also good at focusing, what makes him a really good shooter -probably hunting would have been one of his hobbies, if he wasn’t kind and compassionate-. He has proved to being able to shoot at little and/or moving targets, even if firing from odd angles and perspectives.

✰Johnny loved his mother, and would try to follow her everywhere like a duckling would follow its mother. It wasn't surprising that his first words were "mama". His next word was "horsie", and would enthusiastically say it as he pointed to the horses in the fields when the family decided to take a walk around the farm.

✰In the Victorian era, it was common for toddlers to rarely be in contact with their parents; as they were mostly raised by a nanny. He did have a nanny -whom he loved deeply-, but his mother was still around at all times; she was always there for him. Despite breaking this usual thing, he was indeed raised to be like the stereotypical Victorian child: proper, polite and quiet.

✰The youngest Joestar loved to visit the horses in the family farms, enjoying their company. His fondness for these animals evolved into his skills as a jockey; as he also is well-versed in equine science.

✰Johnny was five when he first rode a horse, and his father quickly considered him a genius. The young boy quickly started to believe this as an irrefutable truth, his ego beginning to grow. Although he indeed is a genius with plenty of skills that allow him to ride across many types of terrain, or even challenge fellow genius jockey -ahem, Diego Brando-; having such a big ego ended up wounding him.

✰Even if George did praise his early horse-riding skills, the rest of Johnny’s childhood was marked by a strained relationship with him. His father was unnecessarily severe, to the point of physically punishing Johnny. He also favored Nicholas immensely, belittling the younger one with constant comparisons. After Nicholas’ death, George was convinced that “God had taken the wrong son” and took out his sadness and rage on Johnny. This cruel behaviour caused Johnny great pain, and an enormous feeling of inferiority.

✰Anne's death was a big shock for the youngest Joestar. He felt like he had lost the only support he had in the family; his mother would comfort him after his father scolds and punishments. She also happened to die a short time before Nick's accident. Johnny was 9 when his brother died; and around 7-8 when Anne died. His father cruel behaviour towards Johnny hurt him, and the little boy was upset because he didn't entirely comprehend why his mom wasn't coming back.

✰The only one who calls him by his full name -Jonathan- is his father, and he despises it. Nowadays, hearing his full name triggers something on him, reacting with some kind of fear. He was used to listen to his father call him only to point out his mistakes and scold him; so hearing “Jonathan” makes him have that kind of reaction.

✰He is a magnificent horse tamer, as seen with Slow Dancer: the horse was introduced as wild and ruthless, but she warmed up to Johnny, to the point of helping him get on her by hoisting him and rolling him down his neck and into the saddle.

✰After his father disowned him and threw him out of the Joestar household, Johnny, in shock, decided to shut himself off. With this, he also created a vain and narcissistic facade in order to hide the sadness this rejection caused him.

✰He tried to take Black Rose -Nicholas’ horse- with him when he was disowned.

✰After he was disowned, when Father’s Day arrived, Johnny used to spend the day in a sour mood, secluded and probably drinking, trying to forget his lame childhood.

✰With his pride harmed, he decided to prepare for the Kentucky Derby, winning it at the age of 16. He made it out of spite, trying to prove his father wrong and growing his own ego; maybe he couldn’t defeat Diego back in the UK, but he won the Derby. He still believes that winning the Derby was his greatest accomplisment.

✰When he was shot and paralyzed, Johnny felt his own pride crushing him: everything he showed off suddeny vanished. Unable to ride again, the horse-riding promise fell into oblivion; he lost all the friends and respect he had earned as a jockey. No one came to visit, leaving him behind; even his own father disappeared from his life, not even visiting him in the hospital. For that, Johnny is used to being abandoned: he forces himself to not get attached to anyone, since he believes that they’ll probably leave him.

✰During his stay in the hospital, the nurses used to dose him with morphine. They did it in order to shut him up –the poor boy was in terrible pain-, but for that, he got addicted to morphine. Luckily, it was only for a short time, since he managed to get clean several months after leaving the hospital.

✰Due to having such a big ego, now his past glory crushes him. He hates how he lost everything in such a pathetic way; but also believes he deserves it.

✰Surprisingly, his arms and chest are really strong; because he is always using them to crawl around and to lift himself.

✰Due to his light complex and weight, he is terribly ticklish.

✰He is a Christian, and believes in Fate and karma, but in a kind of wretched way. Johnny believes that, throughout the years, Fate itself was taking revenge on him for his misdeeds; and that he deserved every misfortune he received. His obsession with the Corpse showed his obsession with karma too, and how he wanted to reset it to a neutral state, paying off his negative debt. His beliefs in Fate explains his lack of confidence and constant panic of losing everything, since he firmly believes that Fate could at any moment take away his hopes.

✰Johnny has depression and, for this, a lack of confidence. He considers himself a useless person, a burden, and unworthy of love. This gloomy perspective of life came from his youth, making him a pessimistic man.

✰TW//suicide. He has considered -and tried- to commit suicide; but he couldn’t. He claims that it’s because he’s a “coward that hates pain, and doesn’t have the balls to finish everything”; but, deep down, it’s because he holds on to even the smallest hope.

✰TW//self harm. He has several scars: the ones on his arms are smaller, and were self-inflicted -self-harm and suicide attempts-. He also has some scars on his legs, caused by wounds he got by trying to stand up, walk and ride; but the biggest scar is the one covering half his back, as a memento from the accident. The bullet left a mark, surgery made it ugly, and the abuse he endured during his stay in the hospital made it worse. Therefore, he now is ashamed and self-concious of his back.

✰Seeing his legs makes him feel weak, and he hates that. He also despises feeling as defenceless as when someone picks him up to carry him without his consent. He truly hates feeling powerless, and it also makes him incredibly angry -and lowkey sad-. He can only tolerate this if it’s someone who he deeply trusts and knows, and only if he has asked for it.

✰At first, he wouldn’t let anyone touch neither his legs nor his back; but after warming up a little, he would tolerate caresses and gentle pats.

✰He also hates when people look at him with sorrow or as if they were pitying him. He may be disabled, but he’s still perfectly capable of plenty of things. Usually, he will reject any kind of help as politely as possible, but his anger will show.

✰Meeting Gyro made him throw away his harsh facade. At first, he was uncaring of everyone else save himself, only maintaining a polite but cold demeanour towards people he met; but Gyro’s influence made Johnny slightly more friendly.

✰ Gyro also made a great impact in Johnny’s perspective of life; not all of a sudden, but in gradual steps. The Italian man gave him hope, helped him to knock out his lack of confidence, gave him some assurance and optimism and also was genuinely nice to him, making Johnny grateful for meeting him. He treasures their relationship deeply.

✰Johnny doesn’t belittles Slow Dancer for being old, as he knows that she has plenty of experience as a Racing horse, and plenty of stamina. He truly knows his mare, possessing great knowledge of her: he knows and perceives her abilities and limits, and is able to predict what Slow Dancer will be capable of. They have grown quite close to each other, and she ocasionally nudges and licks him gently. Johnny loves this.

✰Sometimes, to kill some time, he and Gyro will exchange curses and slang in their respective languages. Gyro finds American sayings strange.

✰Gyro and Johnny had a hard time understanding each other in the beginning of their relationship: the older man had a thick Italian accent, and Johnny had to decipher what the hell was he trying to say. After a while, they grew used to each other's accents, but Gyro still made fun of Johnny's.

✰ His determination doesn’t waver, despite having failed several times. Johnny focuses on his goals, and puts them above anything else. He is also willing to endure severe wounds in order to reach them. And if you also add his stuborness…

✰The man is REALLY stubborn. If he wants to get something, he WILL, no matter what. If he has to, he will be violent or kill his opponents. This is called as “dark determination flickering in his eyes”, indicating a ruthlessness which would make Johnny able to kill in cold-blood. For this, he may seem amoral and selfish, even extending this to the interest of his loved ones. Yet he isn’t truly amoral, protecting defenceless people and taking damage to protect the ones he cares about.

✰He’s rather impulsive and hot-headed, which makes him take action as soon as possible. Sometimes, he might end up regretting not thinking BEFORE acting.

✰ Johnny would do anything for his loved ones:

Even if he’s afraid of his father, he has always tried his hardest to live up to his expectations.

He loved Nicholas deeply and looked up to him as an idol, and blames himself for his death. After he died, he became guilt-ridden, believing that his brother’s death was his own fault and that he should have died instead.

He was willing to abandon the Corpse Parts he had to save Gyro.

(JOJOLION SPOILERS!) When Rina was struck with the Rock Disease, Johnny stole the Corpse to make it transfer the disease away from her, not caring who would receive it and suffer in her place. But when the disease transfered to his son, he healed him by transfering it to himself, dying in order to save his wife and son.

✰He’s the CEO of being done with everyone’s bullshit. He’s angry 85% of the time, and usually cries out of anger.

✰ He’s also a sarcastic little shit. Any stupid questions you make him will be answered with his fine sarcasm.

✰He’s HORNY! This is shown with his bug bite fetish and the fact that he has been involved in at least one threesome. He doesn’t mind empty sex either -as he slept with several girls who came to him only for his fame-. He’s also bisexual.

✰When it comes to affection, he prefers to show his emotions through actions. For him, they speak louder.

✰Regarding to affection, Johnny will deny it; but he is touch-starved. The man really loves hugs and physical contact. He likes to hold on tight and get as close as posible. Since he doesn’t usually speak out loud his emotions, he will show them physically. However, he would rather be held, feeling loved and protected.

✰He feels guilty when someone falls in love with him, since he believes he’s not worthy of happiness nor love. He tends to think that he’s making them waste their time on him, when they could be with someone who could provide them with what they deserve. He can’t help but compare himself to others, belittling himself.

✰When he has a crush, he will do anything to deny it. He doesn’t want to admit how someone began to be so important to him, and is afraid that “Fate” might take them away from him. If he has to avoid them, he will; just to get away and not face his feelings.

✰George does reconcile with Johnny, and feels ashamed of how he treated his own son. He claims to be proud of him now, and even gives Johnny Nicholas’ boots. At first Johnny was resentful and wasn’t planning on forgiving him, since he believed that his father was only coming back for his recovered fame. After a couple weeks he decided against that, forgiving George and honouring him by naming his only son after him.

✰Nicholas’ boots were one of his most beloved possessions, and were passed down as a family relic.

✰If Rina had allowed him to name their daughter, he would have called her Anne, in honour to his mother.

✰In Japan, the Joestar-Higashikata family lived in a farm. Although the place is designed in the Japanese traditional way, Johnny couldn't help but give it some Western touches, specifically to the barns. These ones were designed to be as similar as the ones his father had in Britain and Danville. It made Johnny nostalgic, but in a gentle and warm way; he purposefully made them like that, so he could remember his roots.

✰They were quite wealthy: not only for the Higashikata's fruit business, but also for Johnny's connection with the Japanese government.

✰As a horse-riding teacher, his pupils loved and respected him deeply. Johnny liked discipline -as he took his profession seriously-, but was also very kind to them, treating them with the respect he never received.

✰Obviously, he taught his children to ride as early as possible.

"marquis’s son unused to wine"

tl;dr i’ve mistakenly concocted a conspiracy where evelyn waugh purposely wrote in tragic stories for non-straight characters who happened to be a part of the aristocracy in order to punish alfred douglas for being a scoundrel (where wilde was concerned) and a shoddy poet, in general oh and also, there are some downton abbey spoilers for seasons 5 & 6, beware

d'you ever feel the incessant need to vicariously live through some of the waugh’s characters? particularly, the marquis of marchmain’s youngest son who’s ‘unused to wine’ while on your marry way to cirrhosis?? or maybe the disgraced offspring of some lord, who gets double-crossed by a beau, after your group of friends gets tight on some champagne, disrupts a motor race & thrashes his car, and so now you’re forced to flee the country ?? it’s worth mentioning that – while i find there’s something visceral to the stories of sebastian flyte & miles malpractice – this is in no way me woobifing the man. honestly? kinda sorta fuсk? evelyn waugh ?? yea

but still there’s something almost universal about the sons of aristocracy being queer and getting the shorter end of the stick. well, for obvious reasons, especially, if we’re talking the first half of the previous century :/ yet, inadvertently, quite often, it has something to do with/is related to the title of the marquis specifically??

in short, the conspiracy goes: the son of the marquis of queensberry, – that is alfred 'bosie’ douglas, oscar wilde’s lover – was to blame. in part and while, after having done some research, i don’t believe waugh drew on the inspiration from him, not even partially – still there’s just smth to the idea of punishing the man by writing stories where someone of aristocratic blood is the one who’s being betrayed by his love; and maybe throw in the fact that he’s the one who is left forever pining, withering away & drowning in alcohol?

although, as i’ve said earlier, i don’t believe that was waugh’s mindset or motivation – according to waugh’s biography, he wasn't particularly fond of bosie on purely literaly grounds: 

while “Waugh was "very sorry indeed to hear of Lord Alfred Douglas's distressed condition", and was glad to do anything he could to further the lord's "public recognition", after Douglas had died, “Waugh declined to join a committee to produce "an appreciation of the late Lord Alfred Douglas from a purely literary aspect" [...] "Waugh supposed that the commitee wanted to declare Lord Alfred the "greatest sonneteer since Shakespeare." He "could not agree with the judgement".” (Evelyn Waugh. A literary biography, 1924-1966 by John Howard Wilson, p. 102)

welp. take from it what you will 

in truth, the conspiracy mostly stems from me misremembering the adaptation of vile bodies (written & directed by stephen fry) and assuming that, in the film, miles maitland was made into not just a son of a lady, but specifically of a marchioness ?? why, you might ask? i mean, it could’ve been a neat lil’ call back to brideahead revisited, just like with plover's eggs being off-handedly referenced in the bright young things (2003) – so why not the marquis part as well ?? ¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯

but still, my primary reasoning, for the change, used to be this: fry changing miles into being from the family one title away from the royalty – was done out of spite. fry’s spite towards alfred douglas, mm yes.  you see, there’s this one quote by him floating around: 

“I think he genuinely loved Bosie, and Bosie genuinely loved him. Even though Bosie was mad, petulant, impulsive, I don’t think he set out schemingly to manipulate Oscar. I think he manipulated Oscar in the way that a child manipulates a parent.”

and so, my single braincell perceived this information & ran with it by creating a link where there was none to begin with!!

plus, now that i think about it, it’s unlikely that fry would’ve revamped miles’ character on the grounds of something like this but, since that is not the case, and miles is no son of any marquis, on screen or otherwise – this theory completely falls apart.

unless, you count the fact that, after all, there is some slim connection between the characters of sebastian flyte & miles malpractice and bosie – waugh, in part, based their characters on someone named stephen tennant ('the brightest of the bright young people’), whose mother, in turn, happened to be a cousin of the son of the 9th marquis of queensberry... the guy’s mother was alfred douglas’ cousin, i’m–

the dots are connecteth…… reality ?? hacked…..

there’s also another instance of this, sort of? (and not to commit sacrilege on the main by mentioning downton abbey and stephen fry in the same post, but) circa season 5 we’re introduced to bertie pelham (edith’s future husband), who eventually becomes the marquis of hexham due to his cousin suddenly dying, off-screen, and passing the title onto bertie. 'tis worth mentioning that the said cousin, peter, the former marquis of hexham, was heavily implied to not have been 'a ladies’ man’ (julian fellowes answer for your crimes) at any rate, there's still something to the notion of being from an aristocratic family, yet not being expected to carry certain responsibilities by the virtue of being the younger sibling? – thus allowing for some freedoms, but not quite ridding oneself from the high probability of a public scandal

Bodyguard AU Part 7

Okay sorry for the delay guys, but this part had to be perfect. Thank you for all of your lovely comments and sticking with me! I’m enjoying this AU a lot. 

*5 years earlier in Elfhame*

“Cardan! We’re going to be late!” Jude’s light voice was gruff as she called up the staircase. Cardan skipped down the stairs, grinning at her in her finery, wrapping his arms around her slim waist. His fiancé frowned at him, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. “Can I-”

Cardan placed a kiss on her soft lips, relishing in the warmth of her body against his. They’d been living in their small estate for a few months now, but living with Jude was everything he’d hoped for. Jude’s eyes were delicately closed, the only delicate part of her. She pushed him away just slightly with a shake of her head.

“What will your family think if we’re late to the coronation?” She asked, but her lips pressed thin and Cardan knew she was struggling against the urge to kiss him again.

Cardan let his tail flick hair out her face, an almost serious expression on his sharp features. “I thought we’d given up trying to impress my family.”

Jude shrugged, her eyes falling to the floor. Cardan hated how much she craved their approval, it’s what made them attend court despite wanting to do anything but. Jude had been this way as long as he’d known her, and it hurt his heart to know that his love would never be enough.

Cardan took pity on his fiancé, pulling her toward the door. Their one and only servant, Tatterfell, had their steeds ready and waiting, and before long they were on their way to the event that would ruin Cardan’s life.

After bowing to his father, Cardan swept Jude onto the dance floor. They laughed as they twirled, caring little for the stares they got from the Fae folk around them. Nicasia, especially, had a sour twist on her face. But Cardan ignored it all, his heart finally full as he beheld the mortal beauty in his arms. They stood out in their matching blue attire, undeniably the most beautiful couple in the room.

When the ceremony began, Cardan couldn’t help but whisper to Jude, whose heart was visibly hammering in her chest, “We could probably sneak out now. They won’t notice our absence.”

Jude tsked at him, eyes on the dais where the rest of Cardan’s family was congregated. Madoc, Jude noticed, was off to the side near Orianna and Oak looking bored but alert to everything in the vicinity. The High King brought the ceremony to its beginning with a grand speech about age and time, but Cardan tuned most of it out. You can imagine his shock when the time came for his father to name his heir, and instead of naming any of the better choices, the High King’s voice reverberated out, “My son, Cardan.”

Every eye in the kingdom turned at once to find Cardan in the crowd. Jude’s hand tightened in his as Cardan stared at his father in shock. Dain sprang out of his chair, rage twisting his features. Balekin cocked his head to the side, only soft surprise in his eyes. Cardan could hardly believe it. His father naming him the next High King? What fate-twist was this? His breath was slow, feet cemented to the floor. He had a feeling that if he took even one step closer to the dais, Dain would run him through with the sword at his side.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t wish.” Jude’s murmur brought him back the Earth. Cardan turned to her, his love- his life. If he became the High King then after they married, she would become the High Queen. She would never have to seek anyone’s approval again- Jude could finally have the respect she so deserved.

Cardan gave her a tight smile. He could do this for her- he would do this for her. He gave Jude’s hand one last, reassuring squeeze, before wading his way through the now-parting crowd. The High King met him in the middle of the dais with a small smile on his old face. “I must say, father. I wasn’t expecting this.” Cardan puts a smile on his face, trying to act casual despite the nerves making his back tense.

His father merely nods before another figure steps forward to truly begin the ceremony of crowning Cardan. Tension radiates through Cardan’s body as the High King is instructed to take off his crown for the final time.

“Sorry to interrupt this beautiful moment.” Cardan turns to see Balekin stand, a smug look on his face. “But we thought you’d try to make a foolish decision like this.”

The High King’s eyebrows rose, but it was Cardan who asked, “We?”

“Sorry, brother.” Dain’s voice came from the other end of the dais where he’d crept behind their father. Before anyone could move, Dain’s sword cleaved through their father’s heart. Cardan stared in shock as the life left his father’s old eyes and his body fell at Dain’s feet with a thump.

Mainly out of reflex, Cardan caught the crown as it fell from the High King’s dead fingers. The crowd was in blatant horror, rooted in silence as their attention remained on the stage. Cardan’s fingers were numb as he beheld the crown.

“I’ll take that.” Balekin came from behind and plucked the crown out of Cardan’s grasp before he could protest.

Cardan stood mute as his two brothers grinned at one another, their plan obviously successful. His features twisted with a glare. “You did this on purpose? In case he named me the next king over you bastards?” Cardan didn’t particularly love his father, but the way Dain had just disposed of him without a care put a knot in Cardan’s gut. He hadn’t believed them to be so cold.

Dain narrowed his eyes at the younger prince. “Putting you on the throne was the biggest mistake our father could make, so we made a contingency plan.” Cardan looked off to Madoc, who hadn’t made a move except to send off his wife and family. His guards were around the stage, but no one had made a move to get closer. Cardan looked out for Jude, the numbness spreading as his brothers looked him down. They would kill him, surely. For spite if nothing else.

He accepted his death, eyes hardening as he turned back to his scheming brothers. He sneered, “Now that you have the crown, which one of you will wear it? You can’t share it.”

From their still-full grins, Cardan knew he’d been outmatched. He watched in abject disgust as Dain got down on his, Balekin speaking over him the words that would name Dain the one true High King.

The second the crown rested on Dain’s head the crowd erupted- in cheers. Cardan heard Jude calling his name, but couldn’t make himself turn or run to her. He watched Dain stand, power now radiating from him like a shadow. He faced the crowd with his arms outstretched. “My people! We have suffered in the shadows for far too long!” His voice echoed over the crowd, alive with energy. “Now that I am King, we will make the mortals bow beneath our feet. We will reclaim the city that was ours and mold it into our image.” Cheers met his words, to Cardan’s horror. Dain grinned at the crowd, Balekin at his back- united.

But something was wrong. The ground slowly began to quake, a deep rumbling in the Earth that made Cardan’s bones rattle. Dain looked shocked for only a moment before he began shouting off to the side. Though he couldn’t hear him, Cardan read his lips: Time for Phase Two.

Everyone began to move at once as the ground began to give way around them. Cardan leapt into the crowd, urgency tugging at every nerve in his body. He had to find her- his Jude. He had to make sure she was safe. The people jostled him as he shoved his way past. Everyone was running for the exits, desperate to escape as Elfhame collapsed into ruin around them. Was this part of Dain’s plan? To force everyone out of Elfhame and into the mortal city beyond?

Cardan could do nothing but scream. His eyes pored over the streaming bodies around him, searching desperately for any sign of her. Hopefully she was getting out. Cardan watched a large tree fall, crushing some of the escaping Faeries. Until finally he saw her- just a glimpse of the blue in the distance. That was all Cardan needed to rush for her.

As he reached her, Cardan realized that Jude was not moving. She stood, staring into the distance. “Jude?” At the sound of his voice, Jude’s head cocked in his direction. Cardan’s heart thundered in his chest. What kind of magic was this? He clamped onto her shoulders to make her face him. “JUDE!” Nothing, not even a glimmer of familiarity. More trees crumbled around them and the room was mostly empty now.

Cardan did what he had to- he picked Jude up and ran, tears in his eyes.

~~~

*present day*

Cardan woke, clutching at his chest as the dream- no memory- faded back into his mind. A touch to his face revealed the tears that accompanied it. His Jude. The moment Cardan had carried her into the mortal realm, Jude had awoken- with no memory of him. And five years later, her memories had no returned.

~~~

Tagging: @arwenundomiiels, @daddycardan, @andromeddea, @landofpetrichor, @ladyof-starlight, @nish247, @cute898, @fangirlinghard-spoilerson, @cardans-tail, @nitrot150, @outofstyles13, @an-teo520, @wickedqueenoffantasy, @afexiss, & @gamer670

Yall wanna see my very rough rewrite of the tekken story where things remain mainly the same but I try to keep it sensible jk I’m posting it now and you have no choice but to witness Keep in mind a lot of characters are yet to be mentioned or expounded upon and I also started it with the mood of a youtube vid where you’d be listening to someone but it’s slowly turning into more of a wiki page. I’m at tekken 3 so far and I’ve been bouncing back and forth on the actual Tekken wiki page trying to get my info straight. Also trying to create the illusion that Heihachi MIGHT be a good guy like the series seemed to play with every now and again, or he might just want people to think he’s a good guy.

Let’s start at the beginning; with the young Heihachi and Kazumi meeting for the first time as she enrolls in Jinpachi’s dojo. Jinpachi and Heihachi are impressed by her ability to adapt to both her own Hachijo style Karate and Mishima style fighting arts. From here, Kazumi is but a carefully-placed plant, her current objective being to watch over Heihachi because of the risk of him causing destruction to the world. Kazumi does eventually begin to harbor real, genuine feelings for him, though, and as such the two get married. It’s from here that the warning signs really start to show, though Kazumi tries to ignore them despite her original purpose. Heihachi insists his father end his focus on fighting arts to instead focus the Mishima Zaibatsu on producing weapons and engaging in matters of warfare so that their name continues to have strength when what he sees as outdated fighting techniques are no longer relevant. Jinpachi refuses, and as such asserts that Heihachi will never inherit the Mishima Zaibatsu. By now, Kazumi is even more hesitant as she is pregnant with Kazuya and understands that if Heihachi does become a threat as foretold, so too will Kazuya. She does her best to persuade Heihachi to change his mind about the direction of the zaibatsu, doing her best to change his ways while dancing around the whole “my family foretold you would bring death and destruction to the world” angle. Heihachi assures her that he’s only concerned with his family’s name and status, not being a war monger. Kazumi “believes” him. Things calm down for a time, enough for Kazuya to be born and live a normal life until age 5. Heihachi still harbors outward resentment towards Jinpachi, and the two are all but estranged. Heihachi still keeps an eye on the company as Jinpachi’s health begins to decline and it becomes clear he’s nearing his end. Around this time, Kazumi’s devil gene is beginning to activate, seeing as the chance of Heihachi gaining ownership of the zaibatsu and enacting his plans for it is still very prominent. She does her best to fight it off but is overtaken by a fever one night which leads to the events shown in Tekken 7 of her transforming and revealing her true purpose to him before being killed. Kazuya witnesses only her death, and is understandably confused and angry. Heihachi is in no place to console Kazuya and instead responds in kind with anger. After Kazuya isolates himself Heihachi recalls that Kazumi revealed that she was not only sent to kill Heihachi, but would have to kill Kazuya as well, and wonders where that puts Kazuya in all of this. Did he inherit the same abilities? Would he stand against Heihachi in the future? Or would they work together? Rather than immediately casting Kazuya out, Heihachi intends to see what path Kazuya takes. He still lacks the emotional availability/complexity to properly raise Kazuya after the rift in their relationship and things are rocky between them to say the least. Kazuya doesn’t believe any excuse Heihachi gives him for killing his mother, but as he’s only a child there isn’t much he can do to retaliate. Jinpachi dies a year later and is burred under Hon Maru. Heihachi forcibly takes control of the Mishima Zaibatsu. Knowing this was against Jinpachi’s wishes and having been close to his grandfather, this only widens the rift between Kazuya and Heihachi. [Heihachi swiftly begins to use the zaibatsu to investigate a god of fighting rumored to be lying dormant somewhere in the world. This sends Mr. Chang to America where he falls in love with Mrs. Chang and Michelle is born.] Heihachi still intends to raise Kazuya to be a formidable fighter, and adopts Lee into the family specifically for the purpose of giving Kazuya a rival. Thinking it over, Heihachi decides that even if Lee isn’t a fitting rival, he’d raise him to stand against Kazuya alongside him should things go that way. Lee is more receptive to the ins and outs of business, to manipulation for the sake of his own gain, and Heihachi uses that to give him an edge against Kazuya. Understanding Lee and Kazuya’s seperate skill sets, Heihachi sends Lee to America on business while he sends Kazuya out to participate in  tournaments across the world. Lee meets Paul and Law while in America and trains alongside them. After Lee has returned to Japan, Kazuya meets with and fights to a draw against Paul in America. [Mr. Chang dies when, under threat of death, he begins to unearth Ancient Ogre. His death is covered up by the zaibatsu and when Michelle, 18, learns of this she joins the tournament to exact revenge against Heihachi.] In their 20s, Lee and Kazuya begin to conspire against Heihachi to wrest control of the Mishima Zaibatsu. Their union is shaky at best as both plan to head the zaibatsu in spite of the other, but they unify long enough to participate in the Tekken tournament Heihachi organizes with the intention of defeating him. (The tradition of fighting tournaments initially began as a smaller ordeal under Jinpachi, and Heihachi is only currently organizing a fighting tournament to keep the Mishima name in the spotlight). Lee, Paul, and Law meet again (outside of matches) and Lee learns that Paul has faced Kazuya before. Kazuya eliminates Paul from the tournament but in a show of good naturedness the two stay on good terms as rivals as Kazuya appreciates Paul’s strength. Eventually, Lee and Kazuya are pitted against one another. Kazuya emerges victorious and reveals to no one’s surprise that he never intended to share control of the zaibatsu with Lee. He does, however, offer Lee a lesser position. Lee finds that his pride is more damaged from losing to his brother than he’d expected, and he declines Kazuya’s offer. [Nina joins the tournament under orders to assassinate Heihachi but is defeated by Anna, who is then defeated by Paul.] Kazuya continues to the final stage against Heihachi, who is equal parts pleased with his son’s strength and cautious of it. Kazuya is nearly overwhelmed by Heihachi, who is fighting with his all, until the devil gene within him is activated and grants him immense power. Heihachi is overwhelmed both by Kazuya’s strength and by the revelation that he has inherited his mother’s ability. Feeling truly paternal for only a moment, Heihachi attempts to console Kazuya and explain to him the origin of this new power, intending to help and protect him the way he failed to with Kazumi. Kazuya, on the other hand, quickly abates his confusion and realizes that his power means he can no longer be subjected to feeling helpless the way he had as a child and under Heihachi’s strict and oftentimes cruel “parenting”. This power goes to Kazuya’s head, and he quickly dispatches Heihachi, disposing of his body off of a cliff near his childhood home in a mostly symbolic gesture. [Kazuya meets Ganryu in this tournament after the sumo is defeated by Yoshimitsu. He recognizes his strength (despite not seeing him as an equal) and appoints him as his body guard after taking control of the Zaibatsu. Kazuya extends the same offer to Paul but Paul respectfully declines in favor of traveling the world in order to become stronger. Kazuya learns of Heihachi’s search for Ancient Ogre and continues where he’d left off, sending Ganryu to attain an amulet currently in possesion of Michelle Chang that has some connection to the fighting god. Ganryu fails, falls in love with Michelle, and never returns. Ganryu’s abandonment is no great loss to Kazuya.] As Kazuya gains power of the Mishima Zaibatsu, Lee isolates himself in the wilderness to train. It is here that he meets Wang Jinrei, a skilled martial artist who knows of Lee’s connection to the Mishima family. Wang offers to train Lee in exchange for Lee bringing about the end of the Mishima clan as he, like Jinpachi and the Hachijo family, foresees the destruction they will bring to the world. When Lee tells Wang that Heihachi is already dead by Kazuya’s hands, Wang reveals that he can still feel Heihachi’s energy and that he has not yet been killed. Lee agrees to do what he must so long as it means becoming stronger than Kazuya, unaware of how Heihachi’s intentions of creating a division between the two had deeply affected his psyche. As leader of the zaibatsu, Kazuya organizes another tournament two years later to test his ability in battle. His power has gone to his head and he has become even more millitaristic than Heihachi, planning to seize control over all of Japan after he has ascertained the limits of his strength. He has also ordered genetic experiments on living creatures to understand the effects of the Devil Gene. His collective actions draw the ire of wildlife conservationalist Jun Kazama, and she joins the tournament in order to stop Kazuya. Jun is also able to sense the evil habituated within Kazuya, and intends to dispell it from his body to keep he and the world around him safe. Meanwhile, Heihachi has recovered and healed, sharpening his skills before the tournament in order to stop Kazuya, whom he no longer sees as his son but as a demon. Lee joins the tournament only to be defeated by Heihachi, whom he is still surprised to find alive despite Wang Jinrei’s words. Lee is then officially expelled from the Mishima clan. Jun meets with Kazuya outside of matches to arrest him, but instead convinces him to end his experiments on animals. While Kazuya initially intends to cast her aside he is drawn in by her strength and bravery, as well as the strange calm that overcomes him whenever she’s near him. Jun is then able to see that there is some good in Kazuya still, and takes an interest in him as well. Kazuya becomes compelled to act on her wishes and ends the animal experimentation. He never vocalizes it but Jun knows that Kazuya has the intention of changing his ways and as such Jun forfeits the tournament, seeing no need to proceed. [Nina is again sent to assassinate Kazuya and fails due to Anna’s intervention after she became his body guard (alongside Bruce*) for the sole purpose of stopping her sister. Nina is captured and used in Dr. Bosconovitch’s* experiments which would put her into a deep cryosleep. Seeing no fun in living without her rival around for years, Anna volunteers to also take part in the experiments.] Any intention Kazuya had of changing is swiftly brought to an end once Heihachi reveals himself to still be alive. Kazuya is defeated and Heihachi regains control over the Zaibatsu. In an attempt to assure Kazuya’s demise, Heihachi throws his body into an active volcano. Lee distances himself from Mishima matters. Jin is born months later after a tumultuous pregnancy wherin Jun had to ward off the influence of the devil gene. Jun recieves word of Kazuya’s demise but senses that he may still be alive. She believes that Heihachi was only acting for what he believed to be the greater good and harbors no ill will towards him. To protect Jin and reconnect with her spiritual energy she raises him in semi-seclusion, teaching him Kazama-style fighting arts in an attempt to continue protecting his soul from the devil presence. When Jin turns 15 Jun has a premonition of her own demise and as such instructs Jin to seek out Heihachi should anything happen to her, being estranged from her own family after her father’s death and unable to reach out to them. Her premonition comes true as a newly-awakened Ancient Ogre attacks them and presumably kills her. Jin assumes as much when he awakens after the attack, their home burned to the ground and neither Jun nor Ogre anywhere in sight. [Ogre’s appearance awakens Anna and Nina, Nina having lost all her memories of Anna and their rivalry. Anna, as such, attempts to remake their relationship to avoid becoming rivals with her again, realizing that they only really have each other. Nina is unfortunately possesed and controlled by Ogre, making that impossible.] With some difficulty, Jin does find Heihachi who takes him in with minimal questions. Having been mostly isolated Jin is ill prepared for city life and instead spends most of his time training, which Heihachi is unopposed to. Jin knows nothing about Kazuya and Heihachi’s falling out and is subsequently unsuspicious of Heihachi’s possible response to the devil gene dormant within him. Heihachi does consider raising Jin properly, but remembers how Kazuya had easily turned on him once his devil gene was activated. Heihachi properly enrolls Jin into Mishima Polytechnic and Jin is very receptive to his lessons. Heihachi sends Jin on small business trips once Jin is old enough in order to test his business savvy, and on one of these trips Jin meets and fights to a draw against Hwoarang. In the years after the second tournament, Heihachi had been using the zaibatsu to regain the support of the public by way of creating the Tekken Force which was sent worldwide on good will missions to provide aid to impoverished nations. This force was, at the same time, searching for any evidence of Ancient Ogre. It isn’t until 15 years later that one of their expeditions properly unearths Ogre, who wipes out the team. Word reaches Heihachi of Ogre’s appearance just before Jin is sent to him. For the next four years Heihachi trains Jin as a possible weapon to use against Ogre while trying to again ascertain the monster’s whereabouts. He sees the pattern of Ogre’s appearances; only appearing to face strong fighters, and organizes the third Tekken tournament in order to draw Ogre out and obtain his power. [Baek was one of the fighters to have been unfortunately confronted by Ogre, and this pushes Hwoarang to join the third tournament to obtain his revenge and settle the score against Jin.] [Paul receives an invitation to the third tournament and joins to test his mettle against his rival’s son and father. While he never meets with Jin or Heihachi, he does defeat Kuma and Ancient Ogre. He leaves the tournament prematurely to find more challenges, not realizing Ancient Ogre had been revitalized as True Ogre.] Jin and Hwoarang meet at the third tournament and once again fight to a draw. Jin is allowed to continue on through the next stages and Hwoarang is forced to return to Korea for his mandatory military service. Jin meets with Heihachi next, who claims to want to test his strength before Jin continues. In reality, he wishes to fight in order to draw out Ogre. This plan works, as a weakened Ogre appears and is swiftly defeated by an enraged Jin. At his second defeat, Ogre takes Heihachi’s power and becomes True Ogre, whom Jin also defeats with terrifying power. Regaining consciousness just long enough to see this, Heihachi then knows that Jin has inherited the same devil power as Kazuya. As he’s calming himself from the fight, Heihachi takes the chance to shoot Jin, then calls in the Tekken Force soldiers to retrieve his body. However, Jin reawakens as Devil Jin and

the same sunset  - chapter three

Chapter three - trashed

Masterlist : add /tsmstorymasterlist after my URL

The music sounding from Carol’s house can be heard all the way to the other end of the street where Billy parks his car in the driveway that leads to nowhere. It seems there has once been a house there but now it’s just a deserted spot being used by teenager to park their cars whenever Carol decides it’s time to throw another rager.

Walking down the street towards the party, Billy can’t help but admire the confidence Cleo seems to emmit. It’s different to his. His is fake and take all the effort in the world to uphold. Hers seems to come natural. No effort at all.

“ You know “ she speaks up as they’re just a few houses away from Carol’s “ you can go in first if you want. They’re gonna talk if they see us arrive together. And I’ll have you know, as hard as it is to believe, I am not the most popular person. So if you don’t wanna ruin that cool brooding bad boy persona you have going on, I understand. They don’t need to see us together. “

“ Don’t make a big deal of it, then they won’t “ Billy replies. Back in California he was a different person. People there had known him since childhood and with them he didn’t ever really have to think about any image he wanted to uphold. He was just Billy. His mullet, the camaro, the music and the jeans. Those were just things that belonged to him as much as Max’ red hair belonged to her. They mean different things now.

In California he was Billy first, all the other things came with him.

Here they saw the car first, the outfits, the attitude. The loud music and the constant unbothered look etched onto his face. And from that they made up their own image of who he was. And it worked in his favor really. He’s adored by the girls and admired by most boys. And if that means he has to pretend not to be bothered by shit than so be it. Seeming numb is easy. He’s gotten a lot of practice at home.

“ Oh boy, you’re so not a small town boy. “ Cleo says and skips ahead of him a few steps, giving Billy a perfect view of her ass in jeans that are fitting like a god-damn glove. He can’t suppress a smirk, thinking back to Pete’s disapproving look back at the diner.

There’s a red solo cup pushed into his hand as soon as Billy enters the house. That awful “I Ran” song is blasting through the stereo and Billy remembers the reason he usually gets shitfaced at Carol’s parties. The music sucks.

Cleo walks further into the room and is swallowed by the crowd before Billy can figure out where she’s going. Only a mess of blonde hair visible as she squeezes herself between the dancing teenagers.

“ You know, when you asked me about her I just thought you were curious. Didn’t think you were into her “.

Of course it’s Tommy who hands Billy the drink, he’s probably been sitting by the door waiting for him to show up. It’s a little sad really, Tommy’s been following Billy around like a lost puppy from day one. But then again, no matter how annoying or clingy he is, Tommy is not a bad guy. He’s just not the brightest crayon in the box but Billy can deal with that. Also he’s Billy’s walking encyclopedia on all things Hawkins High and always knows when and where the parties are happening.  

“ Shut up, man. It’s not like that. I uh — I work at her dad’s diner. We were just carpooling here. That’s it”.

“ You have a job ? “ Tommy asks dumbfounded. His eyebrows are raised in question and for a moment it makes Billy angry.

“ We don’t all have a dad who blows money up our ass and buys everything for us, Tommy “

It’s a little harsh, Billy admits that, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Tommy’s dad is the owner of some big ass lumber yards all over Indiana, dispensing wood to all kinds of high class furniture stores to make fancy sofas for fancy people, like Tommy’s dad.

Billy’s met him a few times and he seems to have zero backbone and the personality of a sponge but his wallet is wide open. Probably to make him feel better about not giving a proper shit about his son. As long as Tommy doesn’t get too out of line, his dad doesn’t really pay him any attention. He’s supposed to take over the business someday in the future. That’s the end game. Everything until then doesn’t really matter.

“ Hey sorry, man. That’s not what I meant. I think it’s cool you’re working. Do you think you can get us a discount if we come around ? “

Billy only shakes his head, a smirk finding a way onto his lips again. Tommy’s a fucking nuisance most of the time, like everything and everyone in this place. But he’s honest and Billy can appreciate that a whole lot.

“ Dunno. “

As he takes a drink from the cup, Billy immediately regrets his decision. It tastes like Cranberry juice and disappointment. Whatever vodka concoction they’ve mixed together, it fucking blows. Like a prom punch spiked by some over enthusiastic junior.  

“ Thomas, show me where the beers are and we can see about that discount “ Billy says and throws his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. If he was gonna enjoy this party, bad music and shitty drinks and all, he needs beer. Lots of it.

- OOO -

Billy’s hands softly trail down the path of Erika Kapelsky’s curves. There’s some Bon Jovi song playing over the speakers and she seems to go wild on that stuff. Her ass has been rubbing his crotch for the last 5 minutes. At this point he is 99.9% sure he’s gonna score big time. He’s heard she gives great head. That she’s flexible too.

“ I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick. Take me home when I come back ? Parents are on a business trip “ she murmures into his ear and softly bites his lobe as she pulls away.

That’s the good thing about rich kids, Billy thinks. Their parents are always on some uber important trips for work. It’s like they’re preaching abstinence and safe sex and then do everything in their power to make sure their kids get laid as much as possible. Like leaving them alone in a big ass mansion.

“ Sure “ he agrees and watches her walk away, hips swaying dramatically. She knows how to put on a show.

“ Erica huh ? Nice one, dude “ it’s like as soon as he is alone Tommy gravitates back towards Billy. Sometimes it makes him feel like he has an actual friend. Other times it’s just annoying.

“ Yeah “ as Billy looks towards the door Erica has just disappeared through, his eyes catch movement coming from the hallway next to it.

The big mess of blonde curls on Cleo’s head is bobbing up and down as Cleo hurries down the hallway. There’s stains of what Billy assumes is the shitty prom punch all over her shirt and she’s … crying ?

He doesn’t know for sure but she’s angry that’s obvious. Her lips are pulled into a scowl and her eyebrows are furrowed. She squeezes her way through the crowd and towards the door.

For a moment Billy wants to follow. Wants to figure out what happened, if she’s crying and why. He doesn’t though.

Not his mess. Not his problem.

That’s something his dad always says. It’s a motto that’s been drilled into Billy’s head ever since he was a kid.

He remembers when he was just a little boy, maybe 5 years old. Back in California when his mom was still alive. They didn’t have shit back then but a tiny house and a rusty old car. His mom was working at a beach hut in the mornings, selling overpriced postcards and plastic seashell necklaces to tourists. Dad was constantly between jobs, saying that he just hadn’t found the right one yet. Truth is, no one wants to hire a raging alcoholic.

They didn’t have much back then but Billy liked the house, liked the neighbourhood, because there were kids there. One of them was Gracie Tempers. She lived across the street and she came over to Billy’s house a lot because her mom was working late and Billy’s mom was home in the afternoon to have an eye on the kids.

Gracie’s mom would always come and pick her up, never her dad. And she always had a cup of coffee with Billy’s mom. She was crying a lot but back then little Billy had no idea what was going on. She had a lot of black eyes too.

One night Billy couldn’t sleep so he snuck towards the kitchen, hoping to find his mother still awake so he could ask for a warm milk with some honey, his mom’s special.

Instead he found mom and dad arguing, again. When he heard Mrs. Tempers’ name he decided to hide behind the door and listen. They were yelling. Actually it was mostly his dad. Actually it was only his dad. His mom was talking in a quiet hushed voice. So timid. So scared. She wanted to help Mrs. Tempers. Wanted to “ call the cops “ Billy didn’t know what was going on then and he didn’t know if that was a good thing. Mom always said the police was someone you could go to whenever you needed help. Dad called them corrupt pigs.

Anyway. She wanted to call the cops and “get her away from him”. Billy didn’t know who “he” was either.

But no matter how hard she was pleading, how reasonable she was explaining. Dad’s booming voice kept repeating “ This is not your mess, Rebecca ! Not your problem ! “.

Cleo isn’t’ his mess either. Isn’t his problem.

So instead of going after her, Billy turns back towards the door waiting for Erica to be done so he can take her home and create a whole different kind of mess.

- OOO -

The cold air nips at Cleo’s nose as she walks down the street of this seemingly perfect suburban hell.

She should’ve known better. That’s the bottom line of it all. Should’ve known that showing up with Billy Hargrove would cause unwanted attention. Negative attention. That people would take it as some kind of threat to their social status.

Tina has always been a mean person. Someone that doesn’t lash out but observes. She schemes and calculates and figures out where to hit people so it hurts the most and leaves the most damage.

And whether she does it just out of pure spite or because she has some deep rooted insecurities that she wants to hide behind her malice, Cleo doesn’t know. In the end, it doesn’t matter anyway.

What matters is that Cleo should’ve known better. Billy is all Tina wanted since the moment he stepped foot onto the grounds of Hawkins High. And when Tina feels even a little threatened in getting what she wants, she knows exactly how to retaliate.

Cleo roughly wipes away the tears still rolling down her cheeks. Tina’s opinion shouldn’t matter. Her words shouldn’t matter. And really, they don’t. That doesn’t mean they don’t hurt.

And it’s not even the stuff about Cleo that hurt. It’s the stuff she said about her mom. Those things cut deep. Those things, Tina really doesn’t know shit about. But the worst thing ? Carol stood there and she said nothing and she did nothing. Just turned away as if she hadn’t held Cleo’s hand at her mother’s grave. As if she didn’t take care of her when she had a panic attack the night before the funeral.

As if she hadn’t been an important part of her life for so long. For the good times, but especially the bad times.

Sure they aren’t friends anymore, fair enough. But does that mean all that once was is erased and means nothing anymore ?

The air stings against Cleo’s bare arms, clings to the wet patches on her shirt. This night is a complete and utter mess and she should’ve known better.

There’s a light still burning on the porch and one in the living room. No matter how easy going her dad always pretends to be, he’s still a dad. A dad who acts like he got caught up watching old football games but really deliberately stays up to make sure his girl is getting home okay.

On one hand, Cleo is eternally grateful for the wonderful dad she has. On the other hand, it makes hiding stuff so much harder. Like tear stained cheeks. And punch soaked shirts. And anger. And sadness.

“ Hey kid, I — Cleo ? “ the smile on her dad’s face immediately falls as he takes note of her obvious misery.

“ It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m okay, can we — can we not talk about it ?”

Ever since Cleo was a kid, mom was responsible for the emotional stuff. The long talks and the cheering up. For the rough stuff. The sad stuff.

Dad was the goof who went and bought entirely too much ice cream and put on her favorite movie even though they’d all seen it a million times before.

Ever since her mom was dead, that kind of shifted. Dad had to be both, the goof and the emotional support system. And it is weird for everyone involved. Neither Cleo nor her dad are particularly good at talking about their feelings so after a while they put a system in place that seems to work for them both.

If one doesn’t talk about it on their own accord, no questions are being asked. It’s easier that way. Or maybe they just pretend it’s easier. Either way, Cleo is grateful about that system right now. Because how would she even begin to explain that it all starts and ends with that fact that her mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for her ?

“ Uh — yeah sure. Sure. “

“ Cool, thanks “ she nods and walks towards the stairs. As she is about to round the corner, her dad’s voice echoes through the halls, calling out to her.

“ Cleo ? “

“ Huh ? “

“ There’s some mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer. Just — just if you need it. “

And for the first time since running into Tina, a small smile finds its way onto Cleo’s face.

- OOO -

Billy’s head feels like exploding. Like he’s in a comic and a big ass anvil has been dropped down on him.

The morning sun is shining brightly but the air is cold as he climbs out of Erika’s bedroom window and walks down the street lined by identical houses with identical white fences. There’s perfectly cut lawns, even in the winter, and the frost clings onto the grass making it glimmer in the sun.

The mailboxes are pridefully displaying the names of the families, some of which Billy recognizes from school. Of course people would want others to know they live here. These houses are massive.

He wonders if the people here are genuinely happy or if they have to play pretend, just like he does. He wonders if things were different would his family live in one of these houses. If Neil wasn’t such a fuck up and actually had a proper job that could provide the family with a better living situation, would he be less angry? Would Billy be ?

After a few minutes of passing big ass houses and pristine lawns and picket fences and artsy mailboxes, he arrives at his car.

There’s noticeably less cars here now than there were last night. Next to his Camaro is Tommy’s car which means he’s probably stayed over at Carol’s last night. Whatever those two have, Billy thinks, is a big old mess. They’re constantly at each other’s throats. Either fighting or making out. It’s exhausting for him, and he’s only watching from the sidelines.

Billy slumps down into the driver’s seat of his beloved Camaro. It smells like leather and cigarettes and honestly, it’s a smell that’s become incredibly comforting to him. His car is so much more than just a status symbol. It’s his way out. His escape. When things at home get too bad he can always get in his car and drive around. Aways from the yelling. Away from his father’s anger.

Away from home.

He turns towards the passenger side of his car, itching for a cigarette and hoping to find on in the glove compartment. Instead he’s faced with Cleo’s denim jacket discarded on his passenger seat.

He wants to ignore it. Pretend it isn’t there and just wait for her to come and get it. That’s another thing you learn in the Hargrove household. Don’t let your shit lying around or it’s gone. Neil never had any respect for any of Billy’s things so if he wasn’t being careful with it, Neil would just throw it in the trash.

He wants to ignore Cleo’s jacket so badly. But he can’t. He doesn’t.

- OOO -

The Finch’s two story home is painted a pale blue color. There’s paint chipping from the doorframes and the windows. The front yard looks clean enough but it’s not even close to the front yards he’s seen in Carol’s neighbourhood.

Their little white mailbox says “Finch” in what seems to be the handwriting of a young child. There’s 4 handprints. One big one that he bets belongs to Pete. A bright red one that he can only imagine belongs to a slightly younger version of Cleo. There’s a teeny tiny one that he’s sure is Charlie’s. Then there’s another one. It’s smaller than Pete’s but only slightly bigger than Cleo’s.

His heart drops a little at the realization of who’s handprint it is.

He wonder how she does it. How she lives through losing her mother and doesn’t end up resenting the whole world for it, like he does. He wonders if things would be different if Neil wasn’t such a piece of shit and actually gave a damn about Billy and his grief and this perpetual feeling of anger and bitterness. If he had someone like Pete in his life, would things be — ok ?

His mind drifts back to Cleo’s words from that time in the diner when she made them grilled cheese “Things are rough all over”. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re rougher for some though.

Denim jacket grasped tightly on one hand, Billy walks up the porch steps towards the door with the chipped white paint and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t know what to say to Cleo when she answers, if she answers. It’s not like he cares about her particularly much or about the fact that she was klutzy enough to leave her jacket, in the middle of November no less.

He’s not sure why he’s here in the first place. Maybe because her crying face has sneaked it’s way into the back of his mind every one in a while since last night.

Or maybe because he feels guilty for not bringing her home safe as he had told Pete he would.

Or maybe because he was curious about what happened.

Or maybe all of the above.

Though it’s not Cleo that opens the door. It’s a wild mop of bright red hair and a smile missing one tooth.

“ Billy ? “ Charlie asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“ Hey. ‘s Cleo home ? “

“ No. Why ? “

He hated being questioned. There’s hardly any privacy at home. Every part of his life seems to be considered public property to Neil. Secrets are dangerous. So when you are asked, you either answer or you face the consequences.

“ She left her jacket in my car. Hey where is she ? “

“ What does it matter ? “

“ I wanna give it back “

“ You can just leave it here. She’ll be back home eventually. “

Charlie seemed nice enough for a kid that one time he met her, but Billy can’t deny that right now she’s seriously testing his patience.

“ I know I can but I want to give it to her personally. If that’s okay with you of course. “ he snaps at her and immediately feels bad as he sees the sliver of uncertainty and — fear in her eyes.

“ Look — “ he starts and pinches the bridge of his nose “ — I let her leave the party alone last night and I feel bad about it, okay ? So just tell me where she is and I’ll give this thing back and say sorry and then we can go back to seeing each other at work and that’s it .”

Charlie bites her lip in uncertainty. Billy can see her considering all options. Finally settling on the thought that her sister deserves an apology if Billy is willing to give one, Charlie grants him a small smile and replies “ you know where the old junk yard is ? “

- OOO -

The november sun stands high up in the sky when Billy arrives at the junkyard. There’s a lot of shit lying around. Mostly tires and bottles, pieces of wood, half gutted cars and a variety of metal signs that seem like the used to decorate the shop fronts of Hawkin’s downtown once upon a time.

He spots Cleo the moment he steps out of his car. She’s in a pair of ripped jeans and a gray sweater that looks 2 sizes too big for her and falls off of one shoulder. Her blond curls are pulled into a messy ponytail but a few strands have escaped and frame the side of her face.

The thing that makes him wonder though, is the baseball bat clutched rightly in her hand.

He can her Black Sabbath playing loudly from small radio propped up on an old oil drum.

The pebbles are crunching beneath his boots as he approaches her and when she lifts her head, Billy can see nothing but annoyance in her eyes.

“ The hell are you doing here ? “ she asks, her voice rid of all her usually bubbliness.

“ You left your jacket in my car. You know, where I come from girls do that to make boy call them back. “ he says and smirks. He knows that wasn’t her intention but if there’s an opportunity to tease, Billy sure as hell isn’t gonna let it go.

“ Well here it just means that I forgot my jacket. Sorry to hurt your ego. “

“ Oh it doesn’t. Trust me. “

His gaze moves from her towards the baseball bat, then back to her. “ What the hell are you even doing with that thing ? “

Billy can see the smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. It’s tiny and barely there but he can notice it anyway.

“ Break stuff. “

She accompanies her words with a swing of the bat , slamming it into one of the rusting cars. There’s the crashing of metal and glass and the music all mixing together to create a melody of absolute chaos.

Cleo pulls back again and places another hit against the vehicle. Then another. And a fourth before she blows one of the stray curly away from her face and glances at Billy through the corner of her eye “ you wanna try ? “

He shrugs and takes the bat from her hand. “ You gotta make it count though. “

“ The hit ? “

“ Mmh “ Cleo nods then hoists herself up on the hood of another car.

And Billy makes it count. Not the first time. But when Cleo calls out to him to “ think of something that makes you really fucking angry “ he puts his all in the hit.

He thinks of his mother dying. His friends who don’t bother calling. His dad. All of it. Everything. 

It’s like with every time the bat descends onto the metal, his shoulders feel a little lighter. Like he gets to let go of his anger for a moment there and channel it all into the task of destroying the damn car. It’s what it feels like whenever he gets into fights only without the stupid consequences.

“ Feels good ? “ Cleo asks, sipping on a bottle of what he assumes is beer.

And when he looks up at her he can’t help but smile. Genuinely smile “ feels awesome! “

- OOO -

The two teens are lounging on the hood of an old Cadillac from the 50s sipping on their beers and watching the sun slowly set behind the trees. The junkyard sits atop a hill and you can just make out the outskirts of Hawkins from up here.

“ Why’d you come ? You could’ve just left the jacket at my place and leave. “ Cleo asks, eyes trained on the horizon.

“ What do I know. Thought I owed you this much. “

“ Why would you owe me ? “ she still doesn’t look at him but as Billy glances at her, he can see her pull her eyebrows together in confusion.

“ I saw you crying and I — ugh I don’t know okay ? Just wanted to see if you’re alright. Don’t make a big deal of it. “

She doesn’t. It makes her smile anyway.

“ Well thanks “

“ Whatever. “

For a moment it’s silent then Billy speaks up again.

“ What was that about anyway ? The whole crying thing ? “

“ They talked shit about my mom “ Cleo says and takes the last sip from the bottle before throwing it against the mount of trash making it break into little pieces.

“ That sucks. She’s dead right ? “ It might sound heartless and brash to some but Billy hates it when people sugarcoat stuff to him for no reason and something tells her Cleo isn’t that different when it comes down to it.

“ Yup. Yours too, huh ? “

Billy nods “ Yeah “

“ What happened ? “

“ Cancer. Yours ? “

“ Car accident. “

“ Fuck. “

“ Yes. Fuck. “

Billy turns his head to the side so he’s facing her and Cleo follows suit soon after.

“ That why you come here to break shit ? “ he questions, taking his last sip of beer then following Cleo’s earlier action of breaking the bottle against the pile of trash.

“ I was — so frustrated. With everything. I knew Tina was gonna talk smack when she sees me showing up with you but deliberately bringing up my dead mother to hurt me ? That’s low. “

“ That’s fucked up. “

“ That’s a highschool girl who feels threatened “

Billy lets out a humourless laugh “ It’s not fair though. She doesn’t know what the hell it feels like to lose your mom. You shouldn’t have to deal with her using that to hurt you just because she thinks her pussy is some kind of otherworldly experience that gives her the power to rule this trash pile of a town. For the record, it’s not. “

Cleo snickers and Billy thinks she looks fucking cute when she does it.

“ Can I ask you something ? “ Billy wonders, looking at Cleo expectandly.

“ I guess. “

“ Are you angry ? Because I — I don’t think I have felt anything but anger in so long. I’m so mad at god or the universe of whatever. Whatever is responsible for taking my mom away. My dad — Neil, he’s an absolute asshole. Always has been but mom — mom was good. So why did it happen to her ? It makes no sense and it drives me insane to think about it. It makes me so so furious. “

“ What makes you think I’m not angry ? “

“ You don’t seem angry. “

“ Well I am. I just — life needs to go on, you know. I gotta help dad with the diner and make sure Charlie is happy and healthy. I am angry I just literally do not have the time to dwell on that feeling. “

It makes sense, he think. Back in California life was shit too but he had friends there and stuff to do to take his mind off of things. Hawkins is quiet and empty and boring and his mind gets all the time in the world to think about the sad stuff. The shit that makes him angry.

“ Well look at us sharing sob stories like some kind of dead-moms-club. “ he scoffs but allows a little smile to tug at the corner of his lips which grants him a smile from Cleo in return.

“ Oh shut up, Billy “

And as her laughter echoes through the air and he looks up towards the November sky, he doesn’t feel so angry anymore, at least not for that moment. He’s not happy either but he’s content. And maybe that’s all he can ever ask for. To not feel angry all the time. To get a single moment of relieve. Of lightness. Of ease. Of laughter.

Nakama & Shame

I think anime kinda made me disillusioned to friendships. To those who already watch anime often, I think you may already know what I’m alluding to – the unearthly dedication and support to one’s friends (sometimes even enemies) because you believe in the good and growth in them. The incessant self-sacrifice in order to induce safety and/or happiness for a loved one; someone cherished so innocently, so purely, that there is no romantic tie. Just an unpolluted friendship, a bond that is so strong, all the evils of the world – EVEN DEATH – cannot break you apart.

But maybe this perspective isn’t exclusive to anime; maybe it’s even a character trait embedded in Japanese culture.

I walked into a ramen shop in Boston about a month ago and saw this written in huge, white letters upon the burgundy wall over my head:

NAKAMA [n.] A person that shares your destiny for whom you would sacrifice your life; Its meaning is too entangled to be “friend” but it is also too deep to be just “companion.”

If there’s an entire country who really embodies this notion (no matter how small or large), that’s pretty awesome.

Under the font, were drawings of manga-esque characters with their backs turned to the customers but their fists in the air. As usual, upon seeing these kinds of images, I had an immediate feeling of camaraderie and hospitality – inspiration even.  

So I was curious.

After researching a bit online (for about five minutes), nakama may actually just be a fictional trope in Japanese television – actually given its deeper meaning from the legendary anime One Piece – but Japan is famously known for its low crime rate, its unarmed officers, its friendly strangers who will fasten a young man’s tie because it’s undone and he’s headed for an interview, and they want him to succeed! So will gladly aid in his looking sharp without needing to be related to this person in any way. Then they’ll wish him the best of luck and pray he gets the job! As if they knew him. As if they were family. So even if nakama is a fictional concept, it seems there is an innate goodness instilled in the Japanese people that obviously gave root to the concept of nakama. An innate, unrelated goodness we haven’t really grasped anywhere else (that I’ve been exposed to at least).

And whether it be instilled in Japanese tradition or simply an injection to their entertainment, I love that I grew up with this idea of nakama. Though this mentality has (I’ll be perfectly honest) made me lose a few friendships here and there, it’s definitely kept the right ones closer and stronger for longer than I expected or felt I deserved. My most valuable friends have respected and even reflected my personalized form of nakama because of the familial relationship it had inevitably created between us.

I was exposed to anime at quite a young age, and I was re-exposed to anime at the crack of dawn of every morning as my brother snuck out of our bedroom to watch reruns of Dragon Ball on the Cartoon Network; the early hours were a safe haven for a relatively violent and bloody show of foreign origins despised by most parents but loved by some teensy children (such as ourselves).  He used to take out our most recently purchased bag of pita bread and pack of American cheese from the fridge and would nibble his way through the end of each – until we had nothing left to use for our family breakfasts during the weekends (reflecting on this now, I’m sure this drove both my mom and dad a little crazy).

Now, I often credit my having an older brother for a lot of my toughness and a lot of my disconnect with the common American young lady – my best friends in school were mostly boys. We were always playing Pretend. Dreaming we were magical creatures climbing trees and burning down buildings was a lot more fun than being a part of the local girl-gang in my opinion (which I was also a part of. But I picked my shifts). I owed this early exposure and exercising of a speedily-expanding imagination to my older brother and to the shows he didn’t let me watch.

The shows I only watched while hiding behind the couch and peering over the cushions with my little fingers hinged on the edges of suspense. Clawing through the fabric – just to watch Dragon Ball without him knowing; without him catching me and demanding that I leave (because apparently I was deemed too young for such mature content). Despite him being only two years older than me and like… eight. If he ever did spot me, I’d have to not only be yelled at (mind you, while my parents were sleeping in our tiny apartment in Los Angeles which struck a whole other type of fear through my 3-foot-frame) but I would also have to sink to the floor and stare at the wall for the next two hours – behind the couch, listening to the show instead. Painting the scenes in my head as I had to imagine they were on the TV screen because my evil, older brother claimed I was too immature to see it.

* I will have you know, this was the final power trip I allowed him to have over me. The future was bleak for my older brother, but bright for my unrelenting defiance and eventual overthrow of his tyrannous nature. Bullies are not to be tolerated. *

But I was just so damn curious. Like what could be so amazing, so interesting, that it pulled my brother out of his bed at 5 am every morning like clockwork to eat cold bread and cheese and sit two inches away from the TV screen for the next two/three hours??

It had to be thee coolest thing ever.

So I risked it all. I risked the deportation back to my bedroom, the hellish fire that could awaken my sleeping parents, their hellish fire after being woken by their son’s hellish fire which would then be redirected to me as the source of his hellish fire that had woken them up in the first place.

It all didn’t seem worth it. (But it was).

I couldn’t wake up as early as him every day, but I always made it out to see at least the concluding hour of Dragon Ball/Dragon Ball Z those mornings. I did it so often, that eventually, my brother refrained from fending me off with a foam baseball bat or a stick. Maybe he understood that I was his little sponge whom he could influence and make awesome, rather than the rabid gerbil he made me out to be that ejected out of our mother’s womb for the sole purpose of ruining his life. My seat placement beside him was a promotion. I had graduated to soft-plaything; something that could still be tormented and abused, but should no longer be feared.

I didn’t understand why he liked cold pita bread and American cheese so much, but that seemed to be the Snack of Kings. And I had just been promoted. Beggars can’t be choosey, y’know?

This development in our sibling relationship was also when I discovered my severe case of lactose-intolerance. So in a way, anime’s role in my life was more than just a didactic ruling of friendship and sibling-warfare, but also a court hearing for prospective-allergies.

After discovering my intolerance of yellow-American cheese, my mom introduced my small intestine to goat milk, goat cheese, and an array of goat-rather-than-cow related products; it was a comparatively smelly alternative lifestyle-change that I remember enjoying. I also was not a very picky kid – but again, I saw myself as a trampled vagabond of the streets – so I took what was give to me without question.

But I was a sanctified vagabond. I had made my way from the nosebleeds to the courtside all on my own, a product of my own resilience and ambition. And I thought I was incredible. Like… I wasn’t even old enough for this show. My older brother said I wasn’t allowed to watch these things, and yet here I was… him petting my head and eating cheese while I ogled skyward toward a sizzling, 90s, television filled with awkward screaming, high-voltage blasts and decapitated heads. I was taking it all in and I was loving it.

And one of the reasons I loved it was because Goku (who’s literal growth we have avidly followed from Dragon Ball to DBZ and onward) had a son that he fought alongside. Like how cool would that be?! His son, Gohan, was around my brother’s/my age, depending on the episode, and was being taken out on missions?! Like what?! The amount of TRUST that Goku not only had in his son but in his comrades taking care of his son was powerful. He had enough faith that his son could help him – the greatest Super Saiyan in the world – “fight crime,” defeat enemies, purge the universe of evil!

But also knew when to tell Gohan to like back the f*ck up cause he was 6 and had little to no training. And that was dope.

I was six. I could be great. I could have friends bigger and better than me (which I already did ‘cause I was the shortest kid in my class and still am at the bold age of 22) but friends who still believed in me in spite of that! I could be everyone’s equal. The grown-ups would see my latent potential, the bold energy I harbored, and pay no mind to my age. They would look at me and expect greatness; not because my father was their friend nor because my father was great, but because I was their friend and I was great.

They would do anything for me. Even give up their life for me? Whoa.

The episode that is engrained in my memory most was my brother’s favorite – we re-watched this scene countless times once YouTube became a thing on the internet and a mighty weapon for internet babies like us to digest.

Gohan turning Super Saiyan 2 for the first time.

Mostly I just remember Android 16’s head bouncing around on the dirt, and his dreary eyes looking up as he drawled… “Gooooohaaaaaaan. Let it gooo…” in this deep, robot voice – but let’s remember why 16’s head was rolling around at everyone’s feet. Because he had just pounced on Cell’s back with the belief that he still had a bomb lodged inside his body and was ready to self-destruct – to sacrifice his own life in order to save his comrades. Comrades now, but enemies not so long ago. Hell, Android 18 was going around bustin’ everyone’s asses and suddenly she’s marrying Krillin – goes to show that bad guys have can have a lot of good inside them (and if you’re marrying Krillin… you have a lot of good inside you).

But alas, 16 no longer had a bomb inside his body, and therefore Cell blasted him to bits and kicked his skull aside like it was the neighbor-kid’s deflated soccer ball. This is where 16 recites his epic speech of encouragement:

“It is not a sin to fight for the right cause… It is because you cherish life that you must protect it… I know how you feel, Gohan.” Despite being an android.

And then Cell stepped on his face and his head exploded – but! With all the coils, gadgets, chips, and metal – out came a lot of blood; and that was very humanizing to me. That things that bleed – animals, humans, and apparently androids – we all have a quality that bonds us, a frailty and an appreciation for life that unifies us. We are all unified by the blood in our veins. Despite being just an android! Gohan was right! 16 did love life, and he gave it up because he loved his friends even more and wanted them to enjoy the rest of their existences.  It’s an abrasive scene, but thanks to my older brother, Andrew, one I’ve seen a million times nonetheless.

And due to the power of emotions! Gohan crosses the threshold and reaches Super Saiyan 2.

With glistening tears in his eyes.

It reminded me of the samurai – avenging the death of a loved one. Pride. Brotherhood. Bonds. Protection. Justice. Self-sacrifice… Nakama.

And then came Naruto.

This could easily mark the end of my existence. I lost my youth at the mere age of 12. Cause if Naruto doesn’t traumatize you for life, then bless your soul – nothing else can, my child.

Masahi Kishimoto intended the first arc of Naruto Uzumaki’s adventures to be his last as well. That single manga was illustrated for the notoriously heart-wrenching plot movement of Squad 7 facing Zabuza, Demon of the Hidden Mist, and the orphan Haku. (Let’s not get too into this though cause that’ll just tear me up in seconds).

Transformed into an anime, this plot movement was the first for many of us to watch. And very quickly were we faced with the complex of sympathizing for the enemy, maybe a little too much.

Zabuza Momochi, a rogue Shinobi of the Village Hidden in the Mist is known as one of the most dangerous ninjas of the land. Very unexpectedly, we learn he also practically raised an orphan child named Haku on his own, training him as a swordsman to defend himself. Haku has a special ability that people in his village feared; therefore, people like Haku and Haku’s mother were summarily executed. So Haku’s mother taught him to keep his ability a secret – until her own spouse discovered their secret and murdered her. Haku lost control in response to this, kills his own father and the rest of his village and is then found by Zabuza Momochi…

In this first arc, Zabuza is hired as an assassin that inevitably clashes with Squad 7 (our protagonists), and we’re obviously rooting for Squad 7 to survive! We want them to win. The lead character, Naruto is in Squad 7! Clearly we like them the most. Then why is it that every fan of the show immortalizes Zabuza and Haku?

Because we see a bond between Zabuza and Haku. When Haku appears in the mist to sacrifice his safety in order to keep his caretaker safe – that act changes everything.

As of yet – there is no strong bond holding together Squad 7. Yeah, Naruto and his comrades fight their hardest, and one of them almost to the death; they have to utilize the teamwork they’d been avoiding for so long – but that’s not nakama. The bond of love between an assassin and his conditioned apprentice, though? THAT was nakama.

You see that moment, that presentation of empathy, love, and care for something other than themselves made those characters greater – unselfish, forgiving, merciful and kind to someone outside of them – making them stronger than any of the adored members of our beloved Squad 7. Their pasts, their wrongdoings, their sins I won’t say meant nothing… but they suddenly meant much less. Because we just witnessed their humanity, and much more than their humanity – selflessness.

In fiction – we frequently equate the enemy with negative qualities. They are the enemy, therefore they must carry no virtue. They are all evil.

But a person who steals bread, inspired by the love for their starving children… A person is risking their life, reputation, and future with an evil act in order to protect/save others.

Self-sacrifice is the greatest sacrifice is it not? And great self-sacrifice I imagine should be the hardest decision to make. The amount of bravery and inner-peace needed to execute such a choice… is impressive. I am grateful to have never been placed in the predicament where I must choose between my life and another’s. Would I have the strength to give up everything for someone I love? Could I make that decision? I have no idea, but I can tell you that when I see a mother sacrifice herself for her child, or any adult jump in front of a child they are unrelated to who is in harm… there’s something magical behind that choice. There’s a passion, a power of emotion that exceeds the brain and is pure heart – which may be stupid – but it’s selfless. And altruism is admirable if not the most admirable.

Nakama is a purely altruistic act, and though I cannot say I’ve ever felt that I would give my life for my friends in a moment (which seems like nakama-extremism), I know I sacrifice a lot for my loved ones, even when we are not blood related. I donate a lot, I believe in people a lot, I offer plenty of my time which in my opinion… is giving my life.

But a lot of people do not understand this idea of nakama and are very quick to judge it, if not feel unsettled by it; it is not clinginess, it is not desperation; it is just empathy, faith, and affection but it does not take away for someone’s love for themselves – at least it shouldn’t. It is there only to make you stronger.

So maybe that’s why some of our most evil characters in popular culture are incredibly strong. Enemies in fiction aren’t always 100% made out of Satan-Squeeze. We do see some humanity in our antagonists here and there. But there’s a weird, religious, consecration when a bad guy “sees the light” and decides to suddenly “go green and be good.” So it almost seems like… there really is no adversary… cause… in an instant, they’re absolutely cleansed. So… if everyone can be saved, than that means everyone is made of goodness. And then what a relief that is! What a belief that is! Ahhhh what a happy, spiritually satisfying ending ☺.

This brings up the complicated character development between Naruto Uzumaki and Sasuke Uchiha. (We’re diving into murky waters, my friends).

Sasuke Uchiha was my favorite character from the moment I laid eyes on him, but he has probably one of the most tragic pasts I’ve ever had the honor of absorbing. Born of the Uchiha Clan, Sasuke was raised among some of the most intelligent, perceptive, and valuable ninja-warriors of Konoha. Their trademark is the Sharingan – a powerful dōjutsu (an eye technique) that augments a ninja’s insight and hypnotism against their rival… basically. Sasuke lives a pretty normal and happy childhood, constantly idolizing his older brother Itachi and striving to be just as strong and helpful to the community as his brother has been. Then we discover Itachi has had undisclosed motives for a long time. Abruptly, he unleashes… going on a rampage, slaughtering the whole entire Uchiha clan, including his and Sasuke’s parents… but leaves Sasuke alive and alone.

So Sasuke’s mission practically from birth becomes to avenge his clan, locate, and defeat his brother.

But then he meets Naruto Uzumaki and Sakura Haruno who seem to veer him from the path of self-destruction and revenge. He finds a family he once lost amongst Squad 7 and its hilarious but unsurpassable sensei, The Copy Ninja, Kakashi Hatake (who, for lengthy reasons, also attains an eye with the clan’s Sharingan). There is a bond growing between all four of these characters, an empathy, a pure caretaking quality that was not there when they were up against Zabuza and Haku.

But inescapably… we lose Sasuke to the dark side (and let’s just leave it at that for now).

One of the worst things that can probably happen to you as a human being (aside from an audience member) is seeing your favorite character go bad. Yeah sure it’s kinda cool and they become even edgier than they once were, but there’s nothing cool about seeing someone you believed to be your best friend go rogue and forsake the home you built together because suddenly you and your friendship mean absolutely nothing to them… That always sucks.

But according to nakama, you have an unbreakable bond… yet you see the goodness being sucked out of your nakama’s soul… does that mean that you give up on the friend who has given up on you? Do you turn your back on the criminal your best friend has now become?

One of my dad’s favorite movies is Seabiscuit. He’s definitely a big fan of the comeback-kid and always tended to root for the underdog. His favorite quote in the film became one to live by in our household. It was when Chris Cooper’s character was asked why he kept trying to fix this horse that had injured its ankle. It was a racehorse. With an injured ankle it had become useless. And to that he responded,

“You don’t throw a whole life away just because it’s banged up a little.” Beautiful.

So when your BFF goes all homicidal on the townspeople… what do you do? Well, because of anime, I don’t think I’d ever be able to completely hate them. Even if I had the responsibility of killing them… the nakama between us would still exist despite their death and my being the cause of their death.

I am not quite sure that this is a good thing. You see… sometimes… I do believe we need to lose friends, and we shouldn’t keep raising excuses for why it’s okay that they’ve truly begun to suck as people. It is their fault. You have tried. You’re now beginning to work yourself to the bone defending an ego that apparently doesn’t even want your defending.

The fatal flaw of nakama: difficulty knowing when to let go.

But the problem that I feel most people face, is letting others go too easily. I watch my acquaintances releasing friends like breath out of their lungs sometimes, and the stories I hear of them being suddenly dropped from a friendship are staggering… I think people have forgotten how to be brave, and forgotten how to be there for our buddies when they need us the most and evidentially become the most difficult versions of themselves to deal with. It is hard being a good friend – if anyone tells you otherwise I can confidently state that they are wrong and probably have a lot of interpersonal issues as well. But it is hard being there when someone needs you, especially when they need you more than that one time when they got the news.

I credit this rude awakening to my emotional intelligence, my time spent being introspective and aware of the people and the world around me – to my understanding and my empathy. Because I know I’ve “strayed-from-the-path” before, I know I’ve hit concrete walls and sulked in the pitfalls of depression, and more often than not was abandoned by my friends rather than finding them waiting for me to wake up on the other side as a new person. And I’ll tell you what – I got used to the abandonment, but I never accepted it as a viable approach. So every time a friend of mine hit the concrete walls or were in the jaws of anxiety and stress, I was always sitting cross-legged with my head cocked to the side, my ears wide-awake, and a smile in my pocket for when they were ready. ‘Cause I knew that’s what could’ve helped me. I knew that support meant something to people. I was showing my friends in pain that they had a cheerleader, and I was going to be rooting for them until they’d come back to Earth. And did I learn this from the air? Did I think of this approach by myself? Ruminating on it, anime and manga trained me to be a good friend before I even had a friend to be good to.

But what about when they don’t come back to Earth? And what if it’s because they refuse to? When do you let go, and does letting go mean ‘stop loving?’

That’s when things get complicated.

But nakama still doesn’t lose its value.

My BFF is a homicidal freak now, right? Okay. So it appears that I’m head of the defense force that is meant to take my ex-BFF DOWN TO THE GROUND… those characters that suddenly just flip the switch and delete every memory they have had with that person… that’s great and all, and I’m sure a useful tool when you’re in the business of saving lives (you’ve essentially deleted your bias towards a person who is now your enemy) but that doesn’t feel very human to me. Like we just discussed above, you’ve also given up on someone. And the idea of giving up on someone does not exist in anime. Unless it’s a supporting-role who had a hand in poorly raised one of our vindictive protagonists. But they always feel shame in the end anyway, and the protagonist has the inner peace to forgive them because of their understanding, their love, and at the root of it – nakama.

So how and why did nakama appear in manga and anime? Where did it come from and why is it still so prevalent in Japanese culture? Could it be a reaction to something rather than an intrinsic value?

What if nakama was in some way a response to shame? That if you did not behave this way towards your comrades (for example fellow samurai) you would then be identified as a coward, unwilling to risk your life for your brethren. Therefore you have brought dishonor to you family. Dishonor on your cow! (as per Mushu) and shame upon your head. An ultimate, sin according to the ancient culture, inducing suicides throughout the empire.

So could the innocent idea of nakama have been born from the embarrassment of shame? And is that why western society does not grasp this value… as a value? /how do we experience shame and do we value it?

What is our idea of shame? I’ll tell ya, it usually doesn’t stem from how we treat other people:

Someone cheated on their spouse? Yeah well it happens.

Someone keeps cheated on their math tests? Shame.

A person is corrupt in the workplace? It’s terrible, we hate it but… what’re we gonna do, it happens.

A person comes out as gay. Shame.

A human who likes a unique style of music. Shame.

A human who was raped. Shame.

A teenager who isn’t athletic like their parents. SHAAAME.

You see, we treat shame as a form of social acceptance, and by that I mean, if you do not meet the criteria of the put-together citizen, you should be ashamed of yourself! During the Edo Period of Premodern Japan, if you were a Samurai and could not uphold Bushido; “the way of the warrior,” the moral code of that culture; shame was brought upon you. But their moral code was often in the pursuit of benefitting other people.

The eight rules of bushido code are as follows:

Righteousness Heroic Courage Benevolence/Compassion Respect Integrity Honor Duty and Loyalty Self-Control

These laws outline the responsibilities of samurai; to be deeply honest with yourself and your neighbor, to not only find opportunities to help your neighbor but to create those opportunities when they do not arise. Understanding that true strength does not come in proving your strength. Staying true to your word and being aware that you are the judgment you sleep with at night. Decisions you make and how these decisions are carried out are a reflection of who you truly are.

For, “you cannot hide from yourself.”

But it appears that our in-vogue moral code dictates that you must hide from yourself because if you are different… you are a deviant. Its standing does not rely on our treatment of others but more on our ability to conform to a certain standard of acceptable normalcy. Not too weird but not too common. So our code just seems to be self-imposed and self-inflicted. We don’t seem to really value how we treat one another but how well we mold to one another. I think the last time I was taught that being kind to others was a code to live by was in kindergarten, when I learned, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Pretty much, treat people how you’d wanna be treated. And then of course “keep your hands to yourself.” * thumbs up *

But after that… I dunno… there wasn’t much stress on the ethical upbringing of our population, of our citizens. Do we really not care that much? Yeah sure, I took ethics in college, I took several courses in Sociology and Philosophy and studied the Ethics of Documentary Filmmaking… Literature can often times be a nice bridge into empathy as well… but these were all choices. I was not obligated to take any of these classes… which means… a lot of people don’t. And won’t. And even if they did/do, college may have been a late start to have these discussions.

We are raising a population of Narutos that will not chase after their Sasukes. Generations of children that believe hurting someone is an okay practice if that person hurt them first and feel no shame afterwards. That reflecting fire proves your strength rather than dousing it and turning your cheek and being a bigger person. The way we’re going, everyone is going to want their fire to be larger and brighter than their enemies’ and their friends,’ igniting an egotistical flame that’ll just burn down city hall… thanks guys.

Hot-heads are generally looked down upon in Japanese entertainment. They’re a source of humor and the butt of everybody’s jokes because they’re assumed to be quite immature and stupid. They are nothing like their leaders; they lack self-control and respect, empathy, and awareness. In these shows, characters have certain codes to live by that are very similar to the samurai’s bushido, and if you’re not striving for that admirable way of life… something seems to be wrong with you:

The way of the ninja in Naruto.

Saiyan Culture’s emphasis on pride, honor, strength, and honesty.

And even in shōjo manga like Mermaid Melody and Special A, there is a camaraderie between our main characters that is so strong, any outside force cannot defeat it. You see these stories do not have to revolve around intense, dramatic plots entrenched in suspense and guided by their twists and turns. The characters set in a village ravaged by demons are quite the same as characters trying to survive high school. They are inspired by their peers; peers who neglect them, hate them, terrorize them, love them… they want to grow and become stronger because of their peers.

There is a constant theme in anime about weakness and how weakness is looked down upon, but not in the overtly-masculine way that you may think. It is not that weakness itself is shameful, but that one’s inability to protect their loved ones is shameful. Characters are often tormented by their guilt for feeling like deadweight, like an anchor, being incapable of protecting their best friends and their families. So they are motivated by their pain, their rivals, their nakama all in order to evolve and grow into someone stronger – and a character’s strength is measured by how well they can protect other’s.

What an incredible notion. Measuring strength based on your selflessness and your ability to love.

If I have to lose friends because they do not understand nakama… because they find weakness in it, they’re missing out on a tool that builds up only the toughest and the bravest. It hurts, but it must be endured and it must be accepted by people like myself. Those friends I will lose are luckily few, and are not guided by the same light that guides the characters I’ve admired since my childhood. And people like that cannot inspire themselves, nor will they be able to inspire others.

I am an endless fire lit in perpetuity by the sensation of my nakama, and I will continue to be fueled by this heat, inspired by every day and every night, because I have people I care for and people to live for. My ability to love can break the bank – and I can thank my evil, big brother for that.

- Ashley Beroukhim

11.24.17

Book Review: Carry On: The Rise and Fall of Simon Snow

Author: Rainbow Rowell Publisher Information: Macmillan | October 08, 2015 Format: Paperback; First Edition Genre/s: Young Adult, Contemporary, Fantasy Page Count: 528 Overall Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars.

BOOK SUMMARY (as seen at the back) Simon Snow is the worst Chosen One who's ever been chosen. That's what his roommate, Baz, says. And Baz might be evil and a vampire and a complete git, but he's probably right. Half the time, Simon can't even make his wand work, and the other half, he starts something on fire. His mentor's avoiding him, his girlfriend broke up with him, and there's a magic-eating monster running around, wearing Simon's face. Baz would be having a field day with all this, if he were here--it's their last year at the Watford School of Magicks, and Simon's infuriating nemesis didn't even bother to show up.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS When I first saw Carry On displayed at our local bookstore, I almost cried. I knew of it because I previously read Fangirl and wanted to know more about the characters Cath wrote about. (A drarry inspiration also gave this book plus points for me.) I loved the cover of the book, loved the size of the book. I just loved it. Fangirl didn’t really give anything away for Carry On but the snippets were enough to give me enough hype for this book. (Enough to make me buy three so far.)

WHAT HAPPENED? Simon Snow returns for his final year at Watford, a magical school in England. During this time, Simon learns to accept his reality of being the most powerful magician alive. As the Chosen One, he’s set to defeat the Insidious Humdrum, a magic-eating monster that has been running around England. He meets a surprising ally in Basilton Grimm-Pitch, his roommate and antagonist, as they uncover the mysteries of Watford and Baz’ deceased mother, the previous headmistress of Watford, and truth behind the Insidious Humdrum.

THE CORE This is a cute love story but also a book about desire, the consequence of it, and the power of simply letting go.

WHERE IS HERE? The book is set in present-time (contemporary) featuring Watford and its surrounding magical communities. The World of Mages is simply a distinction of the magickal community compared to the non-magic community. The setting is very stereotypical England which various magic folk - numpties, dragons, etc.

As the magical boarding school is not a new concept, and because the story is set in present time, it’s fairly easy to imagine the setting of Carry On. The border concept is Harry Potter meets Camp Half-Blood --  or at least that was how I saw it.

WHO ARE YOU? Simon Snow/Oliver Salisbury is the main protagonist of Carry On. As Chosen One, he affords to win battles that comes with his power with very little effort, but it seems that his naivety closely compensates for it. He appears to be very confused or lost at times, and sometimes obsessive towards his belief that Baz is a vampire and that he is out to kill him [Simon]. I think this makes him hard to like for some people. It can be frustrating to get to know someone who is naive and oblivious and seems lost all the time. But he’s also a person with a big cross to carry. Imagine being so powerful but be unable to control your magic. Imagine a monster equally powerful that is always out to get you. Imagine putting the very few people who actually cares for you at risk just by being the Chosen One. He’s the most powerful magician but he also seems powerless in a lot of areas.

Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is Simon’s renowned nemesis. He is cocky but smart, as his aunt puts him. He shares an antagonistic relationship with Simon that shifts within the course of the story. He is also very, very gay.

The Mage (Davy) is the headmaster of Watford, the head of the World of Mages (Hence, the title “The” Mage) and is the only one Simon shares a familial relationship with. He was the one who got Simon from the world of Normals when he “set off” his magic and introduced him to the World of Mages. He endorsed Simon as his heir so Simon can attend Watford.

Penelope Bunce is Simon’s best friend. She is immensely intelligent, always top of their class. She is also the brains of her and Simon’s duo when they’re off saving the world.

EVERYTHING AT ONCE Carry On is a very easy read, language-wise. It’s written simply, targeted towards a younger audience and is fairly easy to understand. It may be hard to follow for some as the way the book is presented is like you’ve been reading it a while and that it needed to catch you up to what had happened before. (Think recaps in first episodes of sequel seasons of any story-driven TV series.)

The book also showcases multiple POVs that gives you a glimpse of other perspectives involved in the books many arcs. The central arc is of Simon’s battle with the Humdrum. The secondary arc is of the war between the Old Families (Baz’s Family included) and The Mage. The tertiary arc is the mystery behind the death of Natasha Grimm-Pitch (Baz’s mom). These arcs tie together at one point but plenty are left unsaid and unanswered in the arcs apart from the central arc. (Did they target the Headmistress or the babies in the nursery? Does Simon figure out who his parents are eventually? Does he not experience any sense of loss from not knowing who they are?) The different POVs gives the reader snippets of what is happening to the people involved in these arcs.

The book features a refreshing take on the whole “Chosen One” trope - Simon being a mess of a magician despite being the most powerful one alive. Most of the time, I would wonder how a chosen one is chosen and this book gives us an angle that makes a lot of sense -- that he has a lot of power means there’s a point in the universe that lost a lot of power as well. How people make magic in this world is not new to me. The whole putting magic into your words is reminiscent of Lark’s magic in Amy Harmon’s The Bird and the Sword. It places magic as a skill, a power that not all have, but also tying it with words and phrases that are common. It makes sense. It feels closer than how fiction usually feels.

Rainbow Rowell said that this book is what she felt that she somewhat owed to her characters in Cath’s (Fangirl) fanfiction so it’s understandable that the book widely focused on the development of Simon and Baz’ relationship. That’s not to excuse where the book lacks, but shows why it has been written as it has.

ALL THAT I AM; ALL THAT YOU WERE This corner of the review is for me and my spazzing over this book (and ask the others, I have SPAZZED). I love this book so much. I consider Simon and Baz my sons. Simon, my unlabelled little child and Baz, my gay son. I love them both. I love their relationship and how it got to that point. I love this book because it’s a gay one. I love this book because, yes they are two males who happened to fall in love. IT JUST HAPPENED. And that that’s not the only interesting part of their characters.

Carry On is a love story. It’s a coming-of-age love story where the conflict is anchored from a deeper and far darker past. I personally believe that this has been executed wonderfully.

My only issue with the book is how some details seem so unnecessary. The mystery of Natasha Grimm-Pitch felt very staged and mostly a token to reach from [Simon+Baz = Enemies] to [Simon+Baz = Friends, and so on]. This is a disservice to Natasha’s character, like she died only to bring her son closer to his long-time crush.

I also would have done without Agatha (Simon’s ex-girlfriend and Penelope’s other friend). She seemed to only be present to stir some drama in the group’s dynamic and doesn’t service the plot to move forward at all. (I would say she’s a bottleneck - but maybe that was the point.)

As far as the other arcs go, there’s not a lot of closure in this book. But in spite of these shortcomings, Carry On is still an entertaining and refreshing book to read. (Especially to those who love YA and Magic.)

THE FINAL SCORE 3.5 out of 5 stars. This book is a personal favorite of mine, but I did find that there were elements that were lacking and some characters and sub-plots that strayed too far from the central arc (and it quite unnecessary in my opinion). While we had closure from the central arc, there wasn’t a lot of closure with the other arcs. x, CLAUDE

[ MOOD BOARD | PLAYLIST | AMAZON | GOODREADS ]

RANKING EVERY SEASON OF SUPERNATURAL

Let’s a-freakin’-go, Mario.

12. Season 7. Leviathans. And Sam’s god-awful wolverine sideburns. ‘Nuff said.

11. Season 6. Soulless Sam was hilariously, sarcastically endearing for a little while, but towards the end of the Soulless Sam arc, just, ugh. I wanted to fast forward so bad. Samuel coming back was unnecessary and anticlimactic, “evil Cas” was an eye roller, I didn’t give a shit about Lisa and Ben, um... EVE??? What the actual fuck was that. She was possibly the single most wasted, ultra-super-anticlimactic use of a story arc that I’ve ever seen. There were a few redeeming episodes (i.e. Clap Your Hands If You Believe).

10. Season 9. Okay, this could be biased just based on how much I truly cannot stand God!Metatron. S10/11 Metatron is great; he’s such a little jerk that you cant help but find him funny. But S9 Metatron... holy shit. It was like being subjected to hours upon hours of having to watch only the Umbridge scenes from Harry Potter on repeat. It felt like legitimate torture trying to force myself to finish the season. Plus, yes, I ended up liking Gadreel later (much later) on, but Gadreel!Sam felt like it went on forever. I was over it and it was like the end of it would never come. Also, I’m just gonna say it: Abaddon was boring and annoying, and the only reason she was even an issue was because Sam and Dean thought, “Hey, wow, let’s experiment on the most powerful demon we know of roaming the Earth right now. We cut off her hands, nothing will go wrong!” Riiiight... okay. Also, Kevin’s death was seriously messed up and unnecessary and I still haven’t forgiven them for it, so. But uh, human!Cas was super endearing though, and even though I really don’t ever want actual human Cas to become a thing, it was cute for awhile. 

9. Season 12. Alright. I don’t share the exact same sentiment or level of hatred that a lot of other people seem to for this season, but it had... a lot of issues. So, uh. Buckle up. First of all... Lucifer. While I don’t... hate the idea of him coming back as a villain, just so many things about this were... sigh. Rockstar!Lucifer was - and I’m gonna fucking say it - truly awful. So, so awful. Maybe he could’ve worked on another show, but with Lucifer’s character/personality having already been so established and defined on Supernatural, it just felt out of place. He was not the same character - which is something I often complain about with the Rubys. We had just come from Casifer - which was brilliant and so, so in character - and then we get this... weird, unsnarky, not sarcastic or playful at all version of Lucifer and... pass. Moving on... they finally get to put Luci back in his cage and... then Crowley decides to keep him as a pet? And believe Lucifer - fucking LUCIFER - now bows to him and won’t get away? And assume the demons who have time and time again always helped Lucifer, will now follow him instead? What??? Crowley isn’t that dumb, and he could’ve achieved ruling Hell again with no problems if Lucifer was in the cage. It made no sense to me. And um. Lucifer having a child? Seriously? So much reaching going on. Now to the second issue: The British Men of Letters. Okay. They started off as the enemy this season. The title sequence was the MoL symbol. And yet... they weren’t that relevant or threatening until the last couple of episodes (and those were, well, in nicer terms... questionable.) They either should’ve saved a Lucifer-returning-as-the-enemy storyline for later or saved the BMoL. Together, it was just too much and not enough expansion. Side note: I loathe the BMoL like I loathe God!Metatron. Which brings me to the third - and maybe biggest - issue I had with this season: Mary fucking Winchester. What the fuck. What the actual fuck, were the writers thinking. They legitimately ruined her. Throughout the series you have this wonderful idea built up about her: she was a badass hunter and she sacrificed things for John and she loved her boys so, so much and she gave up hunting for good because that was never the life she wanted and just. Then she’s here and you’re like finally Sam and Dean get to have a fucking parent who is there for them and can nurture them for once in their goddamn lives, and then. Then she’s a different Mary and she’s back to only caring about hunting even though she never liked hunting in the first place and she’s working for the people who tortured her son and she’s leaving her boys who just got her back, who she just got back, and she was going to let them die or get hurt for the goddamn Colt that she didn’t even know was the Colt. And I just. I couldn’t get with it, I’m sorry. Oh, and also everyone fucking DIES this season, so that was just fucking great, too.

8. Season 10. This is an unpopular opinion, I’m sure, but I hated Deanmon and I was glad we didn’t have to see him that long and suffer like we did with Soulless Sam. That being said, they did way overhype Deanmon, which was pretty uncool and unfair. But I honestly hated the Mark of Cain - it went on waaaaay too long - and I really, really dislike seeing Dean be... not Dean... so... Also, I am still pissed the fuck off at Charlie’s death, so I refuse to rank this any higher out of spite, too. But um. They killed fucking DEATH this season. And while I was actually really unhappy about it because Death was cool as hell, that scene with Sam like, just wrecked, and Dean’s “Close your eyes, Sammy” kinda made it really, really almost worth it. (You’ll soon realize I really only care a lot about Sam and Dean’s relationship and their Absolute Best Moments™ that wrench my heart.)

7. Season 8. Unfortunately, the writers decided hey, let’s ruin Sam’s character a little fucking more and write him as OOC as possible by having him not actually give a shit where the fuck Dean was for an entire year because he was too busy fucking some piece of shit girl! Seriously, I didn’t think I could dislike anyone more than I hated Ruby 2.0 or Gordon... and then came Amelia. I have yet to encounter a person in the Spn-verse that is worse than her. No joke. This season ranks above the others though because it was less “meh” or all over the place. And because Mrs. Tran being a complete baller for just a single episode was more entertaining that any of the main story arcs for any of those seasons below. Also, more importantly, it had more of a return to what Supernatural is supposed to be - I’m looking at you S6/7 - and even though trying to close the gates of Hell was pointless and we knew it was never gonna happen, I have a sick love for suffering!Sam at any given time because then Dean goes into overprotective big bro mode and they stop fighting and being jerks to each other for a lil’ while and we get Seasons 1-5 (eh, minus 4) bro’ lovin’ and protectin’ again. Plus, this season holds my favorite quote/speech Dean has ever said to Sam (you know what I’m talking about) and I already said I’m a sucker for heart-wrenching moments between them, so.

6. Season 4. Probably yet another unpopular opinion, but oh well. Ruby 2.0... gag me. Way to ruin a good character. Plus, as much as I love Gen, I loved nothing about her portrayal of Ruby. It wasn’t the same character. That’s the bottom line. Also Sam’s demon blood addiction and him so far up Ruby’s ass all season??? Vomit. Skip. Next. Literally if Sam listened to Dean for legit two seconds, the Apocalypse could’ve been avoided. But Castiel! And the angel arc! The actual saving graces (hah, literally) of the season.

5. Season 1. I feel really weird about placing this season this low because it’s really just as good as the two I’ve ranked above it, but. I suppose that’s cheating. Season 1 holds a very, very special place in my heart, is all. It’s the OG season, monster-of-the-week episodes (which, side note: makes no sense to me when people rank S1 super low because there were “too many monster-of-the-week episodes.” Um, yeah.. that’s kinda... what the show is fucking about? Sam and Dean... hunting monsters? But okay, anyway...) Baby Sam and Dean!!! The world wasn’t fucked yet! Lil’ skulky Sam!! Okay, real talk, S1-3 (and 5) Sam was fucking BALLER. He was the best Sam, and then the writers trashed his character, so. Cool. This season is really only this low because I had to fully rank this and because John was kinda a dick. But I loved Sam fighting with him and Dean getting in between them to protect Sam. (Also, on another note: John was a piece of work but he was a better parent than S12 Mary, jussayin’.) (Also, also, it irritates the shit out of me just how much they ruined John’s character and who they made him out to be post-season 5. He was truly something else and he did some really shitty things, but I don’t think it was fair to do and I don’t think that was ever what Kripke intended for his character, but. Oh well. I digress.)

4. Season 11. Once again, I don’t necessarily rank this fully above S1 or below the next ranking, but. There was a lot of good things going on this season. Casifer was brilliant and delivered some of my favorite one-liners of the series. His interactions with God!Chuck were great. Him helping instead of being a villain, but still being a ridiculous child. God!Chuck was wonderful and handled really, really well. Also, his World’s Best Dad mug? I heart. Freakin’... Baby? Brilliant, incredible, amazing, wonderful, spectacular. Rowena was also bitchin’ this season, the whole flippin’ demons, angels, witches working together (even though it was just one episode) was suh-weeeet, Sam and Dean were vibin’ like early seasons Sam and Dean. I really wasn’t here for the forced Dean/Amara weird as hell relationship/attraction, though. It was... no. Just. No. Also like, Amara was okay and they did mostly show how powerful she was but like. Azazel, Lucifer, the Leviathans, Gordon, or basically... anyone felt like more of a threat than her, even though she was the only actual unstoppable force ever on the show. And while it was kinda nice for the finale to be her and Chuck working it out, it was also... kinda lame. Here’s this dark force that is the most powerful thing in existence, and it’s stopped by God... apologizing and hugging it out with her? Um... okay, I guess.

3. Season 3. Even though this season was short and waiting for Dean to die kinda sucked and put a damper on the whole season, it still is by far one of the best ones, hands down. Not only did we get Katie Cassidy’s badass, savage, cool as hell Ruby 1.0, we got Bela (who had so much wasted potential, sigh) and return of the Trickster, Bobby really becoming the boys’ father figure, and Sam finally getting to kill Actual Piece of Shit™ Gordon Walker. Season 3 also has some of the best episodes of the whole series - Bad Day At Black Rock, Mystery Spot, Ghostfacers - and we got A Very Supernatural Christmas, which gave us the birth of the Samulet, and I swear to god that scene made me actually cry a little bit. (A lotta bit.)

2. Season 2. This is like. THE Supernatural season. All the cool kids are introduced: Ellen, Jo, Ash, the Trickster, Tessa. Bobby becomes more involved, brotherly bonding up the wazoo, total badass, pure monster hunting. Episodes like Tall Tales and Hollywood Babylon. And episodes like Croatoan and Heart (which had one of the best endings to an episode in the series just in terms of emotion and how well it was set up with the song and ugh), and had debatably the best season finale of the whole show with All Hell Breaks Loose Parts 1 & 2. (It killed me.) Great monsters are introduced like shape shifters and djinns. Azazel was annoying but was an actual villain (unlike some of the later big “villains”) and he was that start and end of everything. He was the Winchesters’ reason for hunting, he catapulted everything. And everything was so simple and pure and made fucking sense. 

1. Season 5. I mean, there’s really no surprise here. It baffles me when S5 isn’t at the top of everyone’s list. While I don’t necessarily wanna go back and watch S5 episodes like I do with most other seasons, it was just the most well-rounded, well-thought out, well-executed season. No competition. Everything had a purpose and a meaning. Everything was tied up. Ellen and Jo die, which is a downer, but at least they were badass. Lucifer is a total tool, and you love it. It’s also Mark Pellegrino’s Lucifer, which is - quite obviously - the best Lucifer. Death is rad as hell. Cas is in his fucking prime this season. Sam and Dean love each other so fucking much this season. The Trickster/Gabriel is revealed as an archangel!! Crowley!! Bobby in his prime as Sam and Dean’s father figure!! Dark Side of the Moon A.K.A. one of my all-time favorite episodes and also one of the most beautifully shot episodes!! (And Ash in heaven! “Some people share, like soulmates”!!!!!!) The fucking END!!! I honestly would probably rank S5 at the top of this list solely for the scene where Lucifer is beating the crap out of Dean while Dean just keeps saying, “Sammy, it’s okay, I’m here” and then Sam’s montage of memories of him and Dean as he takes back control, and jeez holy shit is that montage beautiful and brilliant. That scene alone is probably the best scene in the whole show and I will defend that opinion until I die. The only bad things really in S5 were how unbelievably annoying Zachariah was and how I still think throwing their random half-brother in there just so Dean didn’t have to be Michael’s vessel was ridiculous and absurd. But really, this is the season. I’m glad the show didn’t end after this season, but holy fucking shit would it have been one of the sickest, best, most baller series finales of all time, and no matter what they do for the series finale now, this finale is so untouchable that it will never even come close to living up to it. 

Freyr Tyr Skadrson (Goes by “Sceada” only for multiple reasons)

Appearance -

Gender: Male

Race: Burmecian

Height: 6′5′’

Eye Color: Sapphire Blue

Hair Color: Dark Brown

The Facts -

Name Day: February 4th

Occupation: Scholar of Ancient Scripts and Civilizations, Black Mage, occassionally Performer

Sexual identification: Heterosexual

Romantic identification: Shows Polyamorous tendencies, but isn’t sure yet.

Alignment: Neutral Good

Criminal History: Exiled from Burmecia for supposed “High Treason”, several minor thefts of food

Relationship Status: Somewhat complicated, in a relationship with Maria @artemisxbow​ but questioning his own motivations following a visit to a Goddess of Love @thislovelylady​

Sweet on: @artemisxbow​, @dancing-dagger​, @containyourmainposure​, @nymphaxea​ to an extent and also @atieflingwarlock​

Favorites –

Favorite food: Isn’t picky about food, but seems to like cheese a lot, plus some lightly sweet breads

Favorite drink: Various flavors and blends of Tea.

Favorite artist: Most of his favorite songs and art pieces are from people long since lost to legend, he does however consider the clothes a certain Miqo’te makes art too, so among the living it’d be Vhaso’a @thevermiliongaelicatte​

Favorite scent: Rain, Lemon Grass, WIld Roses

Favorite person people: Pretty much all his friends, including the ones he is sweet on. Since they weren’t mentioned above, Lady Freya Crescent @burmecias-protector​ and Vani Lightpetal @not-a-rogue​

Randoms –

Ten facts about your muse:

⚫ If you ask him, he will tell you that he is in his twenties, and leave it at that. Not that this would be incorrect, seeing how he is 23 years old, but he dislikes being too specific on his age for some reason.

⚫ At the age of 8, he was exiled from his home nation of Burmecia under the false accusation of High Treason, and branded with blood red ink on his left lower arm. While no one truly could prove such a thing, rumors were persistent that this was the result of the machinations from his mother, Skadi Skadrson, who deemed him unworthy to be her son any longer once it became apparent he lacked what it took to become a reputable Dragon Knight like her.

⚫ This banishment is also the reason why he does not use his birthname anymore. Not only does Burmecian law strip him of his name, he also discarded it out of spite. After all, his mother had chosen this name in expectation of him becoming a worthy heir to her name and restore glory to her house that had fallen from nobility due to her father’s doings. When in need of a surname, Sceada however still uses the family name Skadrson, mostly because he could not think of another when prompted once.

⚫ Following being tossed away like this as a child, he lived on the streets without a name and had to steal in order to survive. During that time, a fellow street urchin abused his trust and used him to get more food without the risk of being beaten up, letting the young Burmecian take the blows. This only ended when the plan backfired once and the human boy tried to get rid of him, resolving to killing “Mousey” off - the attempt failed, and the little Burmecian ended up killing the other in self-defense.

⚫ Not only due to this incident, Sceada is to this day still haunted by nightmares, though they have become less frequent in recent years. It helps immensely if someone he trusts holds him during his sleep and gives him the feeling of being safe.

⚫ After being found by a professor from the Academy in Daguerreo, the boy adopted the name of Sceada and started studying magic, staying at the Academy from age 9 to 17. He lacks the talent to cast curative spells, finding them inaccessible to him much to his dismay, but has become renowned for his fine control of Black Magic. His signature element is ice, and his control with it goes so far that he can form an intricate crystalline rose with it - a popular gift for women he likes.

⚫ Due to a terrible accident during his childhood, his legs are full of scars and rather weak, leaving him a slow runner and unable to jump well - a trait very uncharacteristic for Burmecians.

⚫ Due to the constant abuse in his early childhood and being an outsider all his life, he has come to subconsciously see himself as worth less than others. This especially shows in situations of great danger where he will not really hesitate to put his life on the line - especially if it is to protect a loved one. This has caused him a number of near-death experiences, including one where he was swallowed by a Marlboro and blew it up from the inside.

⚫ While he knows who his mother is, Sceada never knew his father, and neither does anyone in Burmecia. His mother used the mystery of his birth to the fullest, blackmailing several nobles of Burmecia by claiming he was theirs, and that she had proof. Using the fear of being exposed as insurrance that they would not seek help, she used this tactic multiple times and gained many favors, securing her ascent up the ranks. Rumors claim that she even targetted the King himself...

⚫ Sceada has abandonment issues and is quick to value kindness from others, leaving him to get attached to people a bit too quickly. This has caused him to believe that he fell in love with multiple people, a fact that’s recently been put into question by a Goddess of Love, doubting his motivations for loving others. He is currently unsure where he stands and desperate to prevent those he cares for from being hurt, but finds his actions anything but helpful. He intends to go on a journey sometime soon during which he hopes to learn more about himself and find an answer to whether he truly loves those he does or if he only believes so because they make him feel worth something.

Bonus: Unbeknownst to him, Sceada is actually not a full or pure Burmecian. His father is, much to his mother’s dismay and shame, a Nu Mou by the name of Ma’Chymes, who is an accomplished but rather ruthless Alchemist. Ma’Chymes used an experimental potion in an attempt to get Skadi pregnant, who herself was believed to be infertile. Due to her leaving soon after, he does not know that his attempt at Interspecies Breeding did, in fact, succeed and is thus unaware of having a son. This parental ancestry is by the way also the reason why Sceada can use magic, a feat no other Burmecian has ever accomplished.

Five Things -

5 Things they like:

Rain

Tea

Reading, especially books about magic or old civilizations

The people he values in his life

Traveling

5 Things they dislike:

Hunger, due to memories of being near starvation as a child

Airships, curtesy of a fear of heights.

Marlboros. So so much.

Having to wear socks of shoes

Dry heat

5 Good habits:

Very eloquent and studious, has a way with words

Polite and kindhearted

Whenever he can, buys food for homeless children

Very kind to children and never one to disappoint them, often ending up performing his magic for their amusement

Always one to stand up for fellow non-humans when they are being bullied or looked down upon

5 Bad Habits:

Very easy to fluster and sometimes easily swayed by feminine charms

Suppresses his anger constantly, creating an unhealthy habit that may one day come back to haunt him

Orders drinks sometimes despite being fully aware that he does not take well to alcohol at all.

Does not actively steal food himself anymore now that he can afford it, but will nonetheless always turn a blind eye to anyone who does so

Very quick to look down on himself as well as putting his life on the line

5 Personality types they gravitate toward:

Confident and Determined

Kind and Caring

Talented and Studious

Witty and Humorous

Self.doubting and Insecure

5 Personality types they avoid:

Abusive and Manipulating

Cruel and Sadistic

Mean towards children and the weak

Ignorant and Prejudiced

Faint-hearted and Cowardly

5 Fears:

Being abandoned

Losing a loved one

Injuring someone he cares about

Killing another out of instinct and without rational intent (i.e. self-defense, protecting another, etc.)

Failing other’s expectations.

Tagged by: Saw it here [x] by @foxlike-ffxiv​ and took the liberty~

Tagging: Anyone who fancies doing so~

Some heretical ideas...

Disclaimer: I am not a theologian and I am not studying theology. My knowledge of these matters come mostly from what I’ve read, or what I have heard from those who seem knowledgeable on this. I don’t mind being proven wrong.

I met this guy a few years back. He struck me as a real Christian. But I’ve noticed over the years that often the people you respect most for their faith end being those you respect least. I still respect him and I do think he IS a Christian. But he shared a couple of stuff on his Whatsapp status today that I had to address. 

For many people out there it will just be a case of my word against his. Even worse, he IS actually studying theology. But at least there is a “my word” against his and not just “his words”.  

He made a list about “10 things about Christianity that Jesus would not be happy about if he returned”. 

1. That his vision for a transformed society, which he called the “kingdom of God”, got twisted into an afterlife fantasy about Heaven”.

Fair enough. Kinda. I wonder whether he actually believes there is a heaven, but that’s too unclear to comment on. However, either way this “kingdom of God” is NOT a kingdom on earth at the moment. As I understand it (and again, I could be wrong), Jesus himself saw himself as the Kingdom of God. In fact if I recall correctly that’s what N. T. Wright said in his book, The Challenge of Jesus (it was also said by the apologist William Lane Craig). It is through Christ that we can partake in a shadow of what is to come. So in a sense yes, we should work towards transforming society right now. But the Kingdom is in him, not here. But we shouldn’t expect that there will be a kingdom of God in our life time before his return. 

2. That a religion was formed to worship his name, instead of a movement to advance his message. 

This is really on the line between orthodoxy and heresy. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. He is right if he means that we should not just worship him. We should also spread the Gospel. That’s fine so far that goes. But what he is hopefully not saying is that worshipping his name is wrong. 

3. That the gospel says his death solved the problem of humankind’s separation from God, instead of his life as a witness that there is no separation from God.

This is downright wrong, if not blatantly heretical. The point IS that we are fallen human beings. This came about through our own sinful deeds. It is only through Christ’s sacrifice that we are forgiven and allowed true access to God’s presence. The Jews in the Old Testament were never allowed to venture into the temple all the way to where the Ark was. They were unclean. Only the high priests could go there and only extremely rarely. But through Christ’s atonement we are cleansed. Though our sins are red, they shall be white as snow.

4. That the religion bearing his name was conceived by the theories and doctrines of Paul, instead of the truth Jesus lived and demonstrated.

Agreed. I remember studying religious studies how they would argue that Paul founded Christianity. Only much later on did I discover that all sane historians believe Jesus did actually exist. It is because of him that Christianity has come about.

5. That he was said to exclusively be God in the flesh, putting his example out of reach, rather than teaching that we all share in the same spirit that empowered his character and life.

Yes and no. Once again this takes a very fine line. It is true that Jesus being God incarnate does not put his example out of reach. If anything, he became as much a man to show what the perfect man would be. Do we share the same spirit, though? This is an odd question and it is beyond my knowledge. My problem is this: The Christian doctrine is that God is a trinity. Jesus is the Second Person of the Trinity. The Holy Spirit is the third. We share the third Person, the Holy Spirit, in that the Holy Spirit lives in us. I don’t know though whether Jesus actually had the Holy Spirit while on earth. I mean, why would he? And when Jesus went away he said he would send the Spirit after him. 

So I don’t know. But I’m just cautious about this point. 

6. That the religion that claims Jesus, teaches that his wisdom and teachings are the only legitimate way to know truth and God. 

“Truth and God”. Two statements are made here: 

That only only his wisdom and teachings are legitimate ways to know truth.

And that only his wisdom and teachings are legitimate ways to know God. 

I agree on the former, but not the latter. 

No one in their right mind would say that you have to be a Christian to know truth. Life, nature and everything we learn can be known whether you’re an atheist or not. Many Christians would argue that it is through the natural world that you can come to know God. 

The second point is more difficult. Yes, but I would change it a bit. Jesus’s wisdom and teachings are the only legitimate way to know God as best as you could. As with the point above, it is possible to learn some things about God in other places. Like Plato who argued for God’s goodness. Or the Hindus who are not that far away with their whole idea of Avatars. That’s true. You can learn facts about God from outside of Christianity. Many Christian theologians from the beginning agreed on this. They took inspiration from Plato and Aristotle and others. 

It is also possible (though I know some will disagree) that you are honestly mistaken about Him. Suppose you grew up in a Muslim family and for some reason or another you were never really exposed to Christianity. If you are honestly a Muslim and you never consciously rejected Christianity then maybe (A BIG maybe cause I don’t know), maybe you’ll still be saved after death. 

BUT... if you KNOW of Christ and you know what he offers then it’s stupid to hold to anything else. I mean, I’m sure those cheap PlayStation 3 knock-offs have some good games here and there, but why have the knock-offs when you can have the same thing? Even worse, suppose you see the love of your life. Why settle for anyone less than him or her if you can have him or her? Isn’t it insulting and an outright rejection to reject your love for something worse? 

It is possible that by loving someone you learn how to appreciate the love of your life when you meet him or her. But that’s not the same as rejecting your love for the lesser version. In the same vein you can only truly love God by accepting him as completely as you can. Anything else is just fear and idolatry.

So to get back to the statement, you can know some things about God in other faiths. You may even (perhaps I’m wrong) know him somewhat if you are honestly seeking him in that faith. But if he revealed the true path to you, if he revealed the Christian faith and Christ himself, and you reject it, then you reject him. In that case you cannot know God.

7. The idea that humankind stands condemned before God and deserving of God’s wrath and eternal judgement, requiring the death of Jesus to fix it.

This is the same as point 3. This is downright true. Anything else is heresy. This is the entire point of Christianity. We are standing condemned and we do require Christ to “fix” it. It’s like THE central message. 

I need to actually quote the Bible here:

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him! For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life! Not only is this so, but we also boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.

We have all done bad things. As C. S. Lewis said, in ancient times people knew of the disease but not the cure. Today people do not even know of the disease. Look deep into yourself. Do you really like what you see? We all have this spite and anger, jealous, pride and lust. Do you like it? Do you like the fact that you’ve just said this or that to your friend? Or thought this other thing about your mother? What is this in us that makes us so wretched? A part of us wants to be punished. We did this one very terrible thing which no man on earth should approve. It should be condemned. We want others to be punished for doing this and a part of us want ourselves to be punished as well. 

THAT, is what Christians mean when they say we are sinful and need to be saved. We need to be saved from ourselves. And we can’t. That’s what we mean when we say we stand accused before God. And that only Jesus can fix it. He takes all that guilt and badness on him and is punished in our place. 

8. That people are waiting on Jesus to return to save the world and end suffering, rather than taking responsibility for saving the world and saving suffering ourselves.

Yes and no. As Christians we are obligated to help others in the here and now. That’s true. We should alleviate suffering as far as we can. But we will never save the world or end suffering completely. That’s simply unrealistic, as anyone with a basic grasp of human nature or politics can tell you. 

9. That people think there is magical potency in uttering the name of Jesus, rather than accessing our own natural powers and capabilities to effect change.

Agreed. His name is not some magical chant that you can use as you wish. That’s simply blasphemy.

10. That people have come to associate Jesus with church, theology, politics and power, rather than courage, justice, humanity, beauty and love.

Why not both?

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P. S. The aim of everything is simply to give another side of the argument. It is to give a defence (however weak) of orthodoxy. It’s easy to attack the Church and ancient beliefs. It is fashionable. It is unfashionable to defend it.