#until the end where an echo of her former self appeared and achieved an emotional but lowkey undeserved ending for her char

[shummthechumm]

thinkin’ about early TBC bristlefrost....baby girl what did they do 2 u

#when her only char traits became I LOVE ROOTSPRING and SPOTFUR IS MY BFF i lost a piece of my soul #in a bubble romance and friendship isnt bad but for bristle it became her only defining traits #until the end where an echo of her former self appeared and achieved an emotional but lowkey undeserved ending for her char #it was like her char started at point A #stopped just as she reached point B #and then leapt to point D with like no significant development #why did she and shadowsight not bond more over being manipulated by the imposter... #they r cousins...look at their moms.... #like cmon erins what for #tbc spoilers #a light in the mist spoilers

[krreader]

tears of gold | the aftermath.

pairing: min yoongi x reader fandom: bts warnings: anxiety ; depression genre: angst ; fluff word count: 3.3k+  previous: x

summary: if yoongi had a super power, it would be to turn back time and undo his past mistakes. 

a/n: tumblr, you better not do me dirty again, let ME POST THIS NOW.

This started out as a very normal day on tour.

Yoongi got woken up by his alarm at 6 in the morning, turning it off with a heavy sigh before lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling through the darkness of the room. As always, his first thoughts were about his daughter, hoping that she was doing okay, that she was healthy and happy. Then his thoughts drifted to you, hoping that you were better off now that you were away from him.

It's been two years since Hoseok had told him that he had spotted you out on the streets with his child and back then, he had done everything he could to track you down, only to find out from one of your old friends that you had decided to move out of the country.

And he didn't know where to.

Two years of the never ending wondering where you were, sadness about the what-could-have-been, disappointment in himself, all the while pretending he was still the same bubbly Suga that fans loved so much.

One of those days, he wouldn't be able to put on the facade anymore.

Finally, he slipped out of bed and under the shower, getting ready within ten minutes, before joining the others for breakfast.

He got himself a plate, sat down and continued his morning like he always did, his thoughts slowly managing to focus on the performance today.

Until Namjoon said something that made him freeze, a cold shiver running down his spine, because he hadn’t expected to hear that name being said out loud ever again.

“What the hell?” he turned the flyer in his hand around, his eyes widening, before reading what was on it: “Join (Y/N) (Y/L/N) for the reading of her bestseller that captivated the hearts of millions.”

It got very quiet for a moment, everyone that was sitting at the table stopped eating and now stared at Namjoon, but he stared at Yoongi.

“I thought (Y/N) was in management?”

“The (Y/N)? Yoongi hyung's ex girlfriend?”

“She's an author now?”

“She moved here?”

Question after question was being thrown around a moment later, but Yoongi couldn't do anything other than stare at your smiling face printed on the flyer.

You looked so happy, your eyes literally sparkling and your posture screaming nothing but confidence.

Had it really only been three years? Because looking at you on that flyer now made it seem like it’s been over twenty..

Hoseok was the first to clear his throat, knowing more than the others did, “Doesn't really matter, right? They broke up, I don't think that it's any of our business.”

Even if they were all curious, a look at Yoongi, whose head was hanging so low that nobody could see his face through his long strands of hair, was enough for them all to return to eating quietly.

No matter how long it's been, he was clearly still struggling, they all knew that. They had tried to help, had done everything in their power, but at one point, there was nothing left to do for them. None of them could truly help.

Nevertheless, Namjoon left the flyer on the table as he and the others got up to go back to their rooms to get their things before they had to leave for the venue and Yoongi couldn't help but to reach for it and stare at it for a long time, his fingertips running over your printed face.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered to himself.

And once again, he got reminded of just how much he missed you. Your face, your touch, your lips against his. Everything about you, he missed, yearned for.

So even though it was a bad idea for both parties and his mental health, he made the decision to go there, hoping that he’d get to see a glimpse of his daughter from afar.

The room filled up within the first ten minutes until there was absolutely no seat left.

You truly hadn't expected so many to turn up, but looking at the crowd of so many clutching your book to their chests with a happy and excited smile on their face made you once again realize of just how good of an idea it had been to write down your struggles and thoughts, knowing that so many could relate and connect with you like that.

“Are you ready?” your agent placed her hand on your lower back, “They're all waiting for you.”

“I'm nervous,” you admitted.

“That's normal. But you'll do great. Just read the passages that we've talked about, don't think too much about it.”

And while you and your agent discussed some final things before you’d go on stage, Yoongi managed to sneak in and stand at the very back, his eyes immediately scanning the room in hopes of seeing a little girl, but there was none.

Just.. fans.

You had fans now.

A part of him was so proud of you, of what you had achieved after everything that he had put you through. But that other part hated him for that exact reason.

“Please welcome (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Your name made him snap out of his thoughts, his breath getting stuck in his throat when you stepped out on that stage and he swore that for a moment, the world stopped spinning. He couldn't hear the claps and screams anymore, it was as if everything blurred except for you on that stage, smiling so happily and carefree, even if you seemed a little nervous.

You looked gorgeous.

Your hair had grown a little, but it suited you so well. You wore a blue dress, one of his favorite colors on you, with black heels that he loved so much. And like when he saw you on that flyer, all the feelings for you that had never vanished came crashing back down and all he could think about was: ‘I love you so much.. even after all this time.’

“Uh, thank you all for coming here, I really didn't expect so many of you to show up,” you chuckled nervously and sat down, grabbing your book from the floor, “If you read my book – which I assume you did, since you showed up here today – then you know how much it means to me. Sharing it with the world and reaching so many of you that have been or are in the same boat as I used to be in... if I was able to help even one of you with it, then I've achieved everything I wanted.”

Another round of claps echoed through the room, Yoongi's eyebrows furrowing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Maybe he should have read up on what the book was about.

Probably would have been a good idea.

Because he really wasn't prepared for what he heard once you started reading.

“I used to think that my live was perfect. Perfect job, perfect friends, perfect family, perfect partner. There was not a single thing in my life that I had wanted to change at the time. I was living in a bubble with nothing but happiness and bliss. A bubble that I wasn't prepared to burst.. ever. But that's what happened when the pregnancy test showed two lines. That day, time stopped for a very long time. I truly thought that my life was over when these two lines appeared. It's not that I wasn't well off financially, or that I had parents who would disapprove. It's just that I wasn't ready to be a mother yet. The thought of taking care of something so precious and raising them to be the best possible version of themselves, that was something that scared the living shit out of me. It paralyzed me to the point where when I walked out of the bathroom that day, I was just the shell of my former happy self. I knew I had to tell my partner right away, was expecting him to put his arm around my shoulder and tell me that everything would be alright. That he'd be with me and that we'd raise this child together, that no matter what, I wouldn't be alone in this,” you stopped for a moment to gulp down hard, then you looked up at the crowd with tears in your eyes, “But I was.”

The more you read, the weaker Yoongi's legs became.

This was about him.

“I gave him an ultimatum that one day. That if he didn't want the child now that he'd never get another chance at being a father again. Even if I wasn't ready for the baby, I never would have abandoned it. But he did. He abandoned her before she was even born. He walked out that day and I was completely alone.”

When the world started spinning around Yoongi, he took a step back until he hit the cold window, trying to regain control over his body and emotions.

“The following weeks were the worst of my life. I didn't feel alive anymore, despite the life inside of me growing. I didn't feel anything, gave up on crying eventually, stopped eating and just didn't function properly anymore. Anxiety and depression consumed me, I was feeling worthless and unloved and nothing could fix it. No matter what I did, no matter who tried to help me. That continued on until I went for my first ultrasound appointment,” despite the tear that rolled out of your eye, you smiled, “I've never heard anything more beautiful than that sound. The heartbeat of my child. Beating so strong and loudly, despite me taking so little care of myself. I sobbed my eyes out that day, kept apologizing to the screen, to my baby and made a promise that day to take better care of myself to take care of the baby. The baby, that was so strong, even when I couldn't be. But I wanted to be. I wanted to be strong for her and so I made a decision that day. I became the mother that I wanted my child to have. A strong one. I changed my number and I moved, I started a new life, far away from the man that promised me the world but threw me away the moment that his idea of the future got destroyed. I was done crying over someone that treated me like trash, that treated my child – our child – like trash. So I regained control over my life again, saw a therapist to talk about my issues and by the time that my daughter was born, I could hold her in my arms with the happiest of smiles and say: I love you and I'm so glad you're in this world. I’m so glad that I get to call you my daughter.”

At that point, Yoongi was silently crying, biting down so hard on his lip as to not make a sound and alert anyone of what was going on that it started to bleed.

“I raised my daughter on my own and I couldn't be prouder of who she is today. This beautiful bundle of pure joy and happiness that loves with all her heart. I did that. I didn't need her father and she didn't either. Him leaving us was so hard at first, but it made me so strong, it made our bond so strong. But I guess, if I could say one thing to him now..-”

Yoongi hadn’t expected you to spot him in that moment, but maybe you had seen him from the very beginning and had only waited until now to acknowledge him.

You weren’t surprised to see him here, you had heard that BTS was in town and since he had tried to contact you for so long after your break-up, you had assumed that he'd come by.

But you were still composed, were smiling at him, very softly, actually. Something that he hadn’t expected, “I forgive you.”

When you closed your book and signaled the crowd that the reading was over, everyone got up and clapped, but you still stared at Yoongi.

You meant what you said.

You were done being angry and disappointed. You had grown as a person and had decided that you'd rather spend your days surrounding yourself with things and people that made you happy, than hold a grudge over people from the past, that including Yoongi.

People started to line up after the reading was done for the signing of your books that came afterwards. Many of the ones that came told you just how much your book had helped them on their journeys, knowing that they weren't alone and that this feeling of hopelessness would go away once they realized they were so strong and just how much stronger they could be for their child.

It took a while, but eventually, the room started to clear, until there was only one more person, still standing at the same exact spot as before.

“Uh.. do you want me to..-?” your agent asked, but you shook your head.

“It’s alright. I will see at the office tomorrow.”

She hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded and walked away. Whoever this person was, the way you looked at him made her believe that you two had a lot to discuss.

You took a few deep breaths to prepare yourself for what was coming, then you got up and walked over to him, smiling as softly as before, “It's been a few years, hasn't it?”

“Three years, two months and one week,” he said without having to think twice about it. He remembered when he made the biggest mistake of his life.

He would forever remember that day.

You watched him for a moment, cocking your head to the side, before your smile dropped, “I wish I could say you look good, but.. you don’t, Yoongi.”

“You do,” Yoongi nodded, “You always did.”

You brushed over your dress, almost lovingly, before you said: “Thank you.”

Yoongi had so many questions and so many things to say and ask, but the most pressing thing was: “Is.. she here?”

“No. She's with my mother.”

His shoulders dropped in disappointment, “Ah.. I see.”

You knew that he regretted his decision, despite never having read his messages since you had blocked his number soon after the break-up and then having gotten another number altogether. But your friends had told you about how often he stopped by their places in hopes of you being there or them telling him about you and your daughter.

“I've worked very hard for the last years, Yoongi. To raise my child, but also to become the woman that I am today. I've grown. And I've.. been thinking a lot. What I said before, about me forgiving you. I mean that.”

“Why, though?” it’s not like he deserved it.

“Because even after everything that happened between us... you gave me the most beautiful gift I could have asked for. And if I had to go through all that pain again, just to hold her in my arms eventually, I would.”

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, pressing his eyes shut before more tears could escape them, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

“Don’t be,” you put your hand on his shoulder and waited for him to look at you, before you said: “I’m happy now, Yoongi. We both are. What’s done is done and there’s nothing we can do to change it.”

You didn’t say anything else after that, just gave him one last smile before disappearing.

At first he thought about running after you, but you had forgiven him and that is much more than he deserved. He couldn’t really ask for anything else, could he?

But someone else? Maybe.

Two days later, Yoongi was packing up his suitcase, ready to fly back to Seoul to return to his daily routine, when someone entered his hotel room.

“Hey hyung,” Namjoon smiled a little, “You got a second?”

“Almost ready,” Yoongi said in a small voice.

“Yeah, about that,” Namjoon opened up his suitcase again when Yoongi had closed it and pressed something into his hands, making sure he was holding whatever it was tightly, “Why don't you take a few more days off to relax? I think this city would do you some good.”

And with a wink, he left, Yoongi spotting Hoseok leaning against the doorframe, smiling encouragingly at Yoongi 

He didn't know what he meant. It was only when he unfolded the piece of paper that his legs gave in and he had to sit down for a moment.

“Namjoon?” your eyes widened, a huge smile spreading on your lips as you embraced him without thinking twice, “What are you doing here? And Hoseok too? You guys!”

“Hoseok hyung told me.. well.. everything. We wanted to hear your story and wanted to apologize for everything. If we had known sooner, maybe we could have helped.”

“No, don't blame yourselves. Yoongi is his own person, he made that decision himself.”

“That.. is actually another thing that we wanted to talk to you about,” Hoseok sighed heavily, “We would never ask you to give him another chance, not after everything. But.. would it be too much to ask you to let him meet her? Just... once?”

That question caught you off-guard, Namjoon quickly adding: “You can say no if you're uncomfortable with it, of course!”

It was something that you had thought about a lot over the course of the last years. Would it be so bad if he met her? Just once? Or if you sent him a picture of her, at least? If not for his sake, then for hers? You were raising her on your own and you didn’t need a man to help you, but the older she got, the more questions she had about why she didn’t have a dad.

If he really had changed..-

You were quiet for a long time, before saying: “I promised myself I would never let him see her when he walked out that day. But the older I get and the older she gets, the more I think about it... if it really were so bad if he met her just once.. if maybe they could have a relationship, even when we couldn't.”

“It's your decision just how far you want this to go, we're just asking you for letting him meet her once.. just to see her face, so he doesn't have to imagine it anymore.”

With the piece of paper in which your address was scribbled on clutched tightly in his hand, Yoongi pressed the doorbell with a shaking hand, his breathing uneven and his legs wobbly.

He didn't know what to expect. Three hours ago, he hadn't expected any of this to happen, so now he wasn't able to wrap his mind around it that it was actually happening. That he would meet the girl that was on his mind constantly for the last three years.

Once again, he was face to face with you, the one he called the love of his life once.

And a moment later a little girl squeezed herself through your legs, looking at him with the same eyes that he found himself looking at when he looked in the mirror, only a lot more alive and happier.

“Hello, mister. I'm Dae!” she introduced herself without hesitation and a beaming smile.

Yoongi couldn't help but let out a happy laugh, all the tension easing for a moment.

What would happen after today? Only time could tell. But for today, you would let them have this. And maybe you did this as much for him as you did for yourself.

To finally find real closure to all this.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #min yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #bangtan boys #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #min yoongi #suga #yoongi #reader #requests

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 4

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Upon returning to the surface again, Mother Miranda seems confused, but mostly relieved, that Salvatore did not show interest in lingering in the village any longer than necessary. Though Salvatore did end up needing to stay for one last brief conversation, in which he and Mother Miranda discussed various parts of Nadine’s file, as well as finalized the date and approximate time in which Salvatore could expect the villagers to arrive at the reservoir gate with his gift in tow.

2 days from now, was the final agreement, as it would ensure that Salvatore would be the first of the Lords to receive his gift, making up for the fact that he was the last of them to pick. It also permitted him the luxury of some spare time to prepare a new permanent living environment of some kind for his gift. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

Regardless, Once their conversation finally concluded, Salvatore bid his beloved Mother a quick, but appropriately appreciative thank you and goodbye, before closing the large wooden door to the meeting room and trudging back out into the cold, harsh winter snow. Despite a lack of improvement in the weather since Salvatore’s initial journey into the village, the mutant man maintained a solid pace through the snowy paths, seemingly uninhibited by the forceful winds attempting to throw him from his course.

With little time remaining, Salvatore wanted to return to his reservoir as quickly as possible to begin making preparations; though, what exactly it was he was supposed to do in order to prepare for a tiny, beautiful, and apparently violent cadou-mutant woman to begin living in his reservoir with him, once again, Salvatore still had no idea.

Grimacing in frustration, the hooded man wracked his brain for something to do, some way for him to make a good “first” impression with his new gift when she finally arrives. Something that would catch her fancy and hopefully convince her that, despite his terrifying appearance, he wouldn’t harm her and merely wanted to be friends.

Well… technically speaking Salvatore wanted a great deal more than just friendship from the young woman, however given how low his chances are of ever achieving the former, the mutant man decided that he’d happily squash his vile and disgusting desires down deep within himself if it meant he’d gain at least something similar to a friendship with Nadine.

He’d been doing the same with Mother for all these years, so it wasn’t like it was going to be difficult… hopefully.

Upon returning to his reservoir finally, Salvatore retreated from the harsh weather, deciding that he’d likely have a much easier time cleaning if he waited the snowstorm out and got started in the morning, instead. Once the skies had cleared and the sun had just begun to peak over the mountaintop horizon however, Salvatore immediately set to work cleaning up the areas surrounding the reservoir.

It wasn’t until after several hours of diligent gathering and disposing of the numerous unsightly piles of rotting wood and garbage lying around, that the unusually bright and hopeful atmosphere surrounding the reservoir was rudely disrupted by a surprise visitor Salvatore would have never seen coming in a million years.

“HEY, FISHFACE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? I gotta talk to you about something, so hurry up and crawl out of your sewer system so we can get this over with, already” Karl’s rough and booming voice echoed out from somewhere within the reservoir.

Salvatore flinches in fearful surprise at the demanding voice, wondering what on earth could possibly have brought Karl, the notorious recluse of the family who never left his factory unless bribed or threatened, all the way out here to the reservoir. And to speak to HIM, on top of all that too.

Despite not feeling like subjecting himself to Karl’s recent tendency toward physical abuse disguised as “brotherly affection”, Salvatore sighs and swims his way toward his younger brother’s voice anyways, knowing that ignoring Karl would only prompt the younger man to actually enter the reservoir in search of him, which was the absolute last thing Salvatore needed right now.

“Mornin’, brother! It’s about fuckin’ time you answered the door. You were taking so long I was beginning to wonder if you’d finally decided to run away and live out the rest of your life as an actual fish, like I suggested to you at the last “family” meeting” Karl says bluntly, clad his characteristic attire of green sunglasses, a brown hat atop his head, a long tan trench coat covering his day clothes, various items strung around his neck, and large titanium hammer.

“H-hello, Karl... W-why is it th-that you’re h-here for?” Salvatore asks slowly, peering at the younger, but taller man from behind the only partially opened gate.

“Hey, hey, come on now, Sal, what’s with the cold welcome? Am I not allowed to visit my favorite older brother without a specific rhyme or reason. I think you’ll be surprised to know that I was actually already in the area, and wanted to stop by and see if you were in the mood for a chat. You know, like old times?” Karl says defensively, placing both his hands up as Salvatore narrows his eyes at the younger man.

Salvatore was a lot of things, but stupid most certainly wasn’t one of them, regardless of what other people thought. While it might be true that, when Karl was first introduced to the family as a child following his successful cadou mutation, they had something of a positive older-younger brother relationship that lasted a good many years into Karl’s adulthood, that relationship has been growing progressively shakier and unstable over the past few years, at least it has during the times Karl has acted like Salvatore wasn’t the only one to reach out and attempt to connect with the emotionally volatile, but secretly terrified young boy, when he first arrived.

Deep down, Salvatore still had something of a soft spot for Karl, a soft spot that he occasionally allowed himself to indulge in whenever Karl wasn’t acting like a royal asshole, but those moments of peace and solidarity between oldest and youngest brother had been few and far in between recently. Not to mention that Salvatore would be lying if he said he wasn’t growing increasingly more suspicious and distrustful of Karl and whatever secrets the younger man was hiding in that factory of his. He hadn’t the slightest idea what he could be up to, but something told Salvatore that Karl had more reason to be here than just pure coincidence.

“P-perhaps… what i-is it that you w-want to t-talk about?” Salvatore replies curtly, not wanting to just go along with whatever Karl wanted, but for some reason still willing to give the younger man a chance to prove himself.

Taking a brief moment to look over both his shoulders, Karl places the heavy end of his hammer on the ground and leans inward toward Salvatore, lowering his voice as he whispers, “You see your gift from Mother yet?”

This question took Salvatore by surprise, not expecting the gifts Mother Miranda had given them to be the reason why Karl was here.

“I… I h-have… why?” The disfigured man asks curiously, pushing the gate open a little further so that Karl, despite Salvatore’s earlier reservations toward the younger man, could squeeze his way inside.

Upon entering through the gate, Karl immediately takes 2 cigars out of his back pocket and lights the first one. “Curiosity mostly… but also cuz I think there’s more to this whole “gift” thing than Miranda wants us to believe,” the bespeckled man says, blowing a lungful of smoke out his nose as he offers Salvatore the second cigar. “You still smoke, old man?”

“I-I… I r-really shouldn’t” Salvatore says, turning his back toward Karl’s outstretched hand, even as the wonderfully woody scent fills his nose and his mouth begins to water.

“Oooooh, but something tells me you want to” Karl teases, sauntering over to the older man so that he could wave the fresh cigar in Salvatore’s face, chuckling in amusement when the fish mutant’s gaze locked onto and followed the unlit stick like a dog would a slab of meat.

“B-but it… M-Mother has s-said… m-many times… th-that she d-doesn’t like… doesn’t like when we s-smoke… because… uh, b-because...” Salvatore trails off, trying to remain strong for Mother Miranda, even as his self-control slowly continues to crack.

“Come on, lighten up a little bit, old man. It’s just one cigar. You smoked a pack of these things a day, like they were the only things keeping you going, both throughout my whole adolescence and, if what Duke says is to be trusted which we both know it is, well after I left for my factory, too. When the hell did you start being such a stick in the mud? No wonder I stopped hanging out with you, you’re like a fuckin’ parrot that repeats everything than goddamn woman says, it’s like I can’t escape her no matter where I fuckin’ go” Karl groans in a slightly childish tone of voice as he trudges forward to sit on one of the docks overlooking the calm water below.

Salvatore slowly moves to join him as he says, “S-she’s right th-though… it r-really isn’t good… f-for you… I smoked e-everyday for m-many years... an-and now I’m p-paying for my i-ignorance… Mother o-only nags at you… b-because she c-cares… and s-she’s always r-right… in the e-end...”

“Oh, fuck what Miranda says, I’m tired of that woman. Always telling us what to do and then thinking that pushing a couple of failed experiments onto us as “gifts” will make up for the fact that she’s disappearing off the face of the planet without a single trace and not telling us when she’ll be back. As far as I’m concerned, when Miranda’s not here, she’s not the boss of me. And the same goes for you, too” Karl says, roughly punching Salvatore in the shoulder.

“I-I don’t… I don’t think th-that’s how this w-works, Karl” Salvatore counters. “Even w-with Mother l-leaving us… f-for a t-time... we still h-have to make s-sure that th-things c-continue on… continue on as p-planned… or e-else we’ll really b-be in trouble… w-when she g-gets back.”

“Maybe,” Karl says thoughtfully, before taking another drag of his cigar. “I don’t know… I just have a sinking feeling that there’s something weird going on behind the scenes and these “gifts”, that she’s giving us, are nothing more than distractions to keep us entertained while she goes and does… whatever the fuck it is she plans on doing while she’s gone.”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, briefly remembering back to when Mother first told him that she’d be leaving the village to go “visit someone”, who she believed could be very important to their mission of reviving Mother’s long lost baby, Eva. Although he hadn’t thought very much of it at the time, the mutant man also remembers Mother saying something about how well Nadine would do at “keeping him occupied” until she finally returned, and maybe even after that, too. But why would Mother Miranda want or need him to be “occupied” when she got back? Wouldn’t she want to share her findings with him so they could work toward creating a vessel to revive Eva in? Wouldn’t she want to see and speak to him again after being away for so long?

Or maybe… could… could Karl actually be onto something here? Salvatore felt terrible doubting Mother Miranda, but he’d be lying if he said that Karl didn’t have a point about Mother’s behavior seeming odd, now that he was in the proper headspace to go back and analyze the memory properly, at least.

“B-but… if Mother h-has gone o-out of her w-way… to make sure that w-we won’t be l-lonely... w-while she’s away… isn’t th-that a… a good th-thing… doesn’t that m-mean she c-cares a-bout us... enough to… e-enough to do something l-like this?” Salvatore asks nervously, watching the younger man intently as he contemplates his response.

“I guess so, at least when you word it like that, it does. But something tells me there’s more to this than she’s led us to believe. She’s got something planned, and she’s definitely after something, and once she gets her hands on it, who the hell knows what’ll happen… whatever it is though, I doubt it’ll be very good, for any of us.”

“D-don’t say th-things l-like that… I-I’m sure M-Mother has a-a reason… a reason w-why she’s leaving… an-and if she d-doesn’t tell us w-what it is… b-before she leaves… th-then Im sure… I’m sure sh-she’ll tell u-us when she g-gets back… she’ll l-let us in o-on her p-plan… wh-when she’s ready… an-and then… once e-everything is… said a-and done… we c-can revive… r-revive Eva… and b-be a real f-family… a-at long l-last… isn’t th-that what w-we a-all want, after a-all… a f-family?” Salvatore asks, hoping this was doing something to ease the younger man’s clearly agitated mind.

What on earth it was that was causing so much turmoil as it flew around inside Karl’s head, Salvatore had no idea. But something about the bespectacled man’s unusually contemplative and concerned mood, coupled with the fact that he’d only punched Salvatore once since his arrival, was beginning to leave an acidic taste in the deformed man’s mouth.

Karl really and truly thought something was wrong, and the younger man’s continued insistence upon this fact was beginning to make Salvatore very very anxious.

Perhaps it was the unusually good and excited mood that Salvatore was in due to the near arrival of his gift, or maybe it was that soft spot for Karl I mentioned earlier, but regardless of the reason, Salvatore felt the odd need to help alleviate the younger man’s bad mood, just like he used to do for him back when Karl was still barely taller than his shoulder.

Mother Miranda certainly wouldn’t be pleased if she found out that Salvatore had broken his mandatory sobriety despite her explicit orders to avoid smoking so his experiment results wouldn't be hindered. That being said however, Miranda always seemed to want her 4 children to get along and be close, like real siblings, so Salvatore supposed that he could allow himself a break from his smoking break so long as, if Miranda did manage to find out somehow, he could get himself out of trouble by spinning it as a rare moment of sibling bonding between the oldest and youngest siblings, rather than the reality of the situation.

“I… I’ll t-take that cigar… if you’re n-not gonna smoke it… th-that is” Salvatore says, a small chuckle escaping him when Karl cheers in delight, practically throwing both the lighter and the cigar into the deformed man’s hands.

Salvatore’s first breath of the cigar is nothing short of heavenly once he finally lights it and takes a drag, and its moments like these when the mutant man finds himself secretly grateful that Karl hasn’t listened to a goddamn word Mother Miranda has said in nearly 4 decades.

A long period of silence passes as both brothers merely sit beside one another and secretly enjoy each other’s company.

“Miranda let me pick my gift first, so I didn’t get to see where the others went. Who did you end up with?” Karl asks, finally breaking the silence.

“T-the… the sh-short one,” Salvatore replies, “with b-blue skin, black h-hair, a-and, uh… oh, an-and white d-dots… all o-over her… l-like freckles… fins t-too”

“Oh ya, I remember that one. Gorgeous little thing, she was” Karl says, nodding his head in appreciation as a devilish smile spreads across his unshaven lips. “With quite the… voluptuous figure too, if I remember correctly.”

“I… well… I-I don’t know i-if… I d-didn’t... shut up...” Salvatore mumbles under his breath, taking a long drag from his cigar as Karl throws his head back laughing like a hyena at his older brother’s sudden bashfulness.

“Ah, come on, Sal, don’t be such a downer all the fuckin’ time, I’m just teasing. I know you still think about shit like that, too, even if you’ve managed to convince Alcina and everybody else that you’re just an innocent little follower who hasn’t had an independent, or dirty thought of his own since the cadou took hold. You used to be a fuckin’ doctor for crying out loud, and you’re still annoyingly the person Miranda goes to first whenever she has a new experiment in mind, cuz you’re smart AND she can trust you. You might look like you fell off the truck that was taking you and your fishy friends to market, but I’ve known you too long for that bullshit act of yours to work on me.”

“Act?” Salvatore asks, genuinely confused by what Karl means.

“You know, that stupid fuckin’ “moronic freak” act you do whenever Miranda’s around. The one where you act like you don’t know what the fuck is going on or what something is so that she’ll take pity on how stupid and childish you’re acting and give you more attention. It’s pathetic to watch and I’m gettin’ sick of seeing you do it all the time. Knock it off, you’re better than that.”

“I’ll… um… b-be sure not to… to m-make it s-seem as… uh… I’ll k-keep that in m-mind” Salvatore finally says, casting his gaze down to his pants for a moment, unsure how to feel about how… friendly and kind Karl was being all of a sudden. Salvatore knew Karl secretly cared about him, the brat does far too many conveniently nice things for him throughout the year for him not to, but hearing the younger man voice his surprisingly high opinion of him was definitely shocking, though still quite touching, all the while.

“W-which gift… d-did you end u-up… getting, Karl? I d-didn’t get t-the chance to… to s-see the others… M-Mother only showed me Nadi-er… my g-gift” Salvatore asks, deciding, at the last second, against using his gift’s real name lest Karl be given even more artillery to tease and riddle him with.

“Eh, just some tall dark haired broad. I think Miranda said something about her being Indian, or something along those lines.”

“O-oh… d-did Mother say a-anything about… whether she’s actually f-from here… o-or did she immigrate… f-from India?” Salvatore asks, tilting his head curiously as this new information about Karl’s gift piques his interest.

Karl stares at Salvatore with a look of confusion for a moment, his mouth opening and closing silently like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words for it. Until, “Aren’t Indians from America?”

The sound of Salvatore’s right palm making firm and painful contact with the back of Karl’s head echoes across the reservoir almost as loudly as the following cry of pain from the man himself.

“OW! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?” Karl roars angrily, pushing himself to his feet while he rubs at the back of his head, hat lopsided and barely hanging on to his head and green glasses no longer perched upon his nose, likely sinking to the murky lake floor just below the docks they were sitting on.

“I d-didn’t spend… th-the better part o-of 15 years… p-pounding an education... i-into y-your th-thick head... for you t-to say… f-for you to b-be spouting dumb shit… l-like that” Salvatore growls in annoyance, eying the taller man with a look that even he wouldn’t dare argue against, at least not with Sal he wouldn’t.

It’s moments like these when Salvatore is very happy that Karl, for as strong and fearless as he is now as a fully grown adult, is still just a little bit afraid of him after all these years. Not because of anything bad or horrifically traumatic of course, especially considering how often Salvatore had gone out of his way to ensure Karl had the least traumatic upbringing he could possibly provide the young boy, given both their situations. As much as he hated to admit it, even Karl would agree that Salvatore had done a pretty decent job of not fucking him up anymore than he already was, which the younger man would secretly always be thankful for. However, even a person as naively patient and serving toward others as Salvatore had his breaking point, and all it took was one especially bad day, resulting in the one and only time Salvatore has ever left a mark upon the younger man’s skin, for Karl to realize that Salvatore was the last person in this godforsaken village he wanted to purposefully make an enemy out of.

Thankfully, their relationship never suffered negatively from that one-off event, but it did force the two to come to a mostly unspoken agreement that has remained present and active, if slightly ignored at certain times, from that point forward. Agreement or not however, Salvatore could never bring himself to harm Karl like that again, even if he wanted to, which was probably the main reason why Karl was still the most comfortable around him, even after all these years. It was a secret they shared between them, and them alone, and it would be one that he would cherish for the rest of his life, as Karl would secretly cherish the kindness and brotherly love Salvatore had treated him with for all these years. They were brothers, regardless of whether they got along or not, and nothing in the would world would be able to change that.

That being said however, Karl was about to be in for a very rude awakening if he thought he could just do and say whatever the hell he wanted around Salvatore without there being any consequences.

“‘A-aren’t Indians f-from A-America?’ G-good grief... I o-oughta throttle y-you for th-that one” Salvatore grumbles through another drag of his cigar, shaking his head in utter disbelief and disappointment. Karl was so intelligent, and yet he could be so stupid sometimes that it physically hurt Salvatore to think about.

“But there ARE Indians in America, aren’t there? I know I’m not wrong here” Karl defends aggressively, his anger quickly giving way to embarrassment when Salvatore raises his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration and annoyance.

“Th-they’re called N-Native Americans... f-first of all... they w-were only c-called I-Indians... b-because the g-guy... the moron who f-first sailed t-to the A-Americas... w-was actually... looking for I-India... the r-real India... b-but back th-then... you h-had to go all th-the way... a-around Africa... to g-get there... but he th-thought h-he could do... d-do it a d-different w-way... he thought h-he could f-find India... by s-sailing straight f-from S-Spain... and g-going around the whole w-world... until h-he came b-back around... an-and hit Asia” Salvatore explained slowly, hoping to maintain his delusion that Karl had, in fact, paid attention to at least some of the lessons he gave the boy throughout their time together, even if it wasn’t actually true.

“But he didn’t. He hit the Americas and started calling the locals Indians cuz the guy, what’s-his-face... Columbine... Columbus... whatever, was dumb enough to think he was in India and not a totally different landmass” Karl finishes, looking like he at least remembered hearing about his information before, which was good enough for Salvatore.

Despite the grimace still etched onto his face, Karl groans in annoyed defeat and slinks back down to sit next to Salvatore, still cradling the back of his head.

“Anyways, as i was saying before I was so rudely interrupted with a goddamn history lesson-”

“You w-want another s-smack?” Salvatore threatens, mildly amused when Karl pauses his dramatic retelling, before sliding just a few inches to the right, away from Salvatore’s preferred disciplining hand.

Coughing slightly, Karl continues. “Anyways… going back to my “finding the silver lining” idea, or whatever the fuck its called. This whole “gift” thing might actually work out kinda nice for me in the long run, especially since the one I got looked like she was strong and could handle herself in a rough and tumble environment. If she proves herself, I’m planning on turning her into my assistant” Karl explains casually. “As much as I hate working with other people, normally, I’ve got some projects that would really benefit from a second pair of hands, so I’m attempting to make a “silver lining” moment out of this bullshit “gift” thing Miranda’s tryin to do and just hope and pray that things work out in my favor. Though, to be fair, if things with this girl don’t go well, I could always use her body for a cool idea I’ve had cooked up for a while now. What about you? What are you planning on doing with your new little toy once it finally arrives?”

Salvatore merely shrugs his shoulders. “It w-would be nice… i-if we c-could be f-friends… somehow… but…”

“Ya… you’re not exactly working with the latest and greatest set up, huh? Even a mutant girl might need a little bit to get adjusted to a face like that” Karl says.

“That’s c-certainly one way o-of p-putting it” Salvatore replies dejectedly.

Karl flinches slightly, which surprises Salvatore, since the younger man has a habit of caring very little for how his words affect those around him. Why on earth was he being so considerate, all of a sudden?

“Look, uh… what I meant to say was that… ok, so maybe you’re not like, the best looking guy ever, but like…” Karl stammers and stutters, trying desperately to figure out what he wants to say but seemingly coming up short every time.

Salvatore narrows his eyes again, suspicion returning. “You’re h-hiding something f-from me… w-what are you a-after, Karl?” Salvatore asks seriously, fixing the younger man with a stern look that he knows Karl recognizes.

“Hey, don’t you give me that fuckin’ look. I am too fuckin’ old for you to be looking at me like that, what am I, 12?” Karl asks.

“You c-certainly act l-like it… most of th-the time” Salvatore grumbles under his breath.

Karl clearly heard him, but knew better than to argue with the water not even a foot below where the two were currently sitting, his sunglasses having already taken a nice little dive as punishment for his big mouth. Salvatore might have only agreed to speak with Karl because the latter had demanded it, but they were still very much in Salvatore’s territory, and it wasn’t even a question of who had the topographical advantage should an “argument” actually break out between them.

Karl is strong, nobody can deny that. But Salvatore has the home advantage, and they both know it.

After a moment of tense staring, Karl finally breaks first, sighing heavily before tossing his finished cigar cap into the water below them, a crime Salvatore briefly contemplates knocking the younger man in for, before deciding against it, knowing, with his luck, that it would only come back to bite him in the ass later.

“Alright look,” Karl finally says, a look of frustrated determination on his face, “I don’t know what Miranda really has planned past her whole “get a suitable vessel for Eva” obsession, or what she’s really after on this mission of hers… but something about this whole situation going on recently just doesn’t feel right to me, and I think we need to do something about it before something bad happens and we all somehow end up dead. Now, I'm not 100% sure why I’m talking about this with the head of Miranda’s fuckin’ fanclub, but considering what my other 2 options were it wasn’t like I had much of a damn choice. My only saving grace right now is the fact that you’ll at least occasionally listen to fuckin’ reason, given your gaping maw can be yanked from Miranda’s tit long enough to hear me out, that is. It’s certainly better than my chances with Lady Super-sized Bitch and Crazy Psycho Doll, over there.”

“Are you s-sure you’re n-not just being p-paranoid?” Salvatore asks slowly, not wanting to offend Karl by outright stating he didn’t believe the younger man’s hunch, but also trying to figure out if Karl actually has something to be concerned about, or if he’s just looking for an excuse to badmouth Miranda.

“No, no no no, don’t you do this to me too, Sal” Karl begs in frustration. “You can go about the rest of your life loving the absolute shit out of that crazy woman if you want to and I won’t say a goddamn thing about it, but I need you to promise me, and I mean promise me, that if you see or hear something weird regarding Miranda and this little “trip” she’s about to go on, you come tell me so that we can at least make sure our own asses are covered when shit hits the fan.”

“Well… I-I uh…”

“Come on, Sal. None of these psychotic assholes have ever had my back like you, and that’s exactly the reason why I’m telling you all this” Karl says honestly, catching Salvatore off guard with the oddly familiar wording.

“I know I can be a royal fucking pain in the ass most of the time and that I’m not always the… nicest to you… even though you did kinda do... a bit for me here and there when I was a little tyke... But none of that matters now, because even if Miranda isn’t trying to hide something from us, with the two of us banded together, we could do whatever the hell we wanted while she’s gone, and neither of the other shitheads would be able to tell us otherwise. What do you say, Sal? Come on, you and me, together, just like when I was a kid, remember?” Karl asked excitedly, his eyes shimmering in boyish glee as he spouts off all the things they’d be able to get away with when Miranda finally left, the torment they’d be able to unleash upon Alcina being a particular favorite of Karl’s, it would seem.

Salvatore remained silent for a moment, contemplating the deal he’d just been given.

It’s… not a terrible deal, at least compared to some of the previous deals Salvatore has been offered in the past. It wasn’t like him agreeing to “ally” himself with Karl was a direct declaration of war against Mother Miranda or anything like that, merely a mutual effort that would guarantee safety for both him and Karl should Mother’s plan not go exactly as she wanted, which scientific experiments were known to do. Not to mention that giving Alcina a good messing with did sound like quite a bit of fun.

Maybe… maybe Karl was right. Maybe Salvatore was being a bit too much of a stick in the mud. It was just Karl after all, who Salvatore had practically raised, starting from the boy’s arrival into the family at 6 years old and more or less up until his factory was completed just after his 22nd birthday. Karl could certainly be a handful for even the most powerful individuals, but even on his worst days, he always found some backwards, convoluted way to apologize for his behavior.

“W-well… I-I’m not s-sure… I d-don’t know how I f-feel about… about d-doing things th-that Mother… wouldn’t a-approve of… just b-because sh-she’s gone...”

“But...” Karl continued for him.

“B-but I suppose… k-keeping each other u-updated… when we f-find… or h-hear s-something weird is… wouldn’t be… wouldn’t be th-the worst idea… in th-the world… e-even if it just t-turns out that… we w-were just being p-paranoid.”

“Excellent! That’s just what I was hoping to hear” Karl says triumphantly, standing up.

“A-are you l-leaving, already?”

“Ya” Karl affirms, “I’ve got work to do at the factory, and based on the look of things here, you were busy with a project of your own it looks like.”

Salvatore nods, pocketing his freshly finished cigar cap for later, proper, disposal. “I c-can’t even remember… the l-last time I… p-properly cleaned this p-place… it l-looks so m-much nicer… even w-without being f-fully finished…”

“Good for you. My own property could probably do with a good cleaning of its own now that you mention it. If nothing else though, I’m sure your new little lady friend will appreciate that you picked up the place for her arrival.”

“Y-you think s-so?” Salvatore asks.

Karl shrugs his shoulders. “Who knows with chicks, they’re unpredictable, but I suppose it’s possible. Then again, maybe not considering who you ended up with. I don’t know the full story or anything like that, but based on what I heard from Miranda, that blue bitch you went with was the craziest one of them all. Practically tore her pod apart the first time Miranda tried to put her in it, and caused all sorts of other damage throughout her mutation phase too, not that I blame the poor girl. I’d tear that whole lab right out from under the surface and set it ablaze if I could. Going back down there after so many years… I was puking like you for the rest of the fuckin’ day when I finally got out of that hellhole. Stomach still feels a little nauseous if I’m being honest...”

“I-I’m sorry… to h-hear that” Salvatore says, though Karl is quick to brush him off.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy and I can handle myself. But do we have a deal? Keep each other in the loop whenever we hear anything… strange or abnormal about Mother Miranda or her special little mission?”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, thinking one last time about whether this was a good idea, before finally shrugging his shoulders and nodding. “Y-yes, we h-have a deal… b-but just remember something, Karl… 40 years d-didnt do… nearly as m-much for your p-poker face as i-it did for your s-smart mouth. If I c-catch you lying to m-me-”

“Ya, ya, ya, you’ll chop up my body and toss my remains in the lake to feed the fishes, I’ve heard that one a million times before” Karl interrupts. “Don’t worry, Sal, if I was planning on lying to you at any point throughout this process, you’d have already caught me by now. Even I know better than to try pulling a fast one over the walking fuckin’ lie detector.”

“I’m h-holding you to th-that, Karl” Salvatore calls over his shoulder as the younger man stands and begins heading toward the gate to return to his factory, chuckling lightly when Karl returns his warning with a middle finger.

“Take it easy, old man. And let me know how that crazy fish bitch you ended up with turns out. If all else fails I’ll turn her into a nice stuffed pillow for you” the bespeckled man says, throwing his head back in laughter as though he’d told a funny joke, before adding, “And I’d better get my sunglasses back within the week, or else I’m draining the whole fucking reservoir so I can find them myself. Don’t think I won’t do it, old man.”

Salvatore merely returns the middle finger, a response that Karl seems to appreciate, if the wolfish howl of laughter the younger man let's out says anything, at least.

‘Cheeky brat. Always plotting something’ Salvatore thinks fondly to himself as he slips back into the water to continue cleaning the reservoir, quickly grabbing the green sunglasses that had sunk to the bottom and pocketing them to return to Karl later. He pauses for a moment when a thought crosses his mind.

Within the past 24 hours, both Mother Miranda and Karl had been… unusually kind and affectionate toward Salvatore, which pleased but also confused the twisted man.

Karl was easy enough to explain away, the younger man has been flip flopping between periods where he likes and spends time with Salvatore, and periods where he’d sooner set himself on fire than be in the same room as his older brother, since the day they met, so as far as Salvatore was concerned, Karl’s behavior was hardly breaking news, though perhaps a bit surprising given everything going on with Mother’s gifts. Mother Miranda, however, was a different story.

Usually more distant and hands-off in her parenting ways, Miranda had been uncharacteristically affectionate toward the disfigured man the night before, going as far as to openly praise Salvatore for all his hard work and even hold him without being asked to. It had been such a wonderful experience at the time and yet, the more Salvatore thought about it, the stranger and stranger the behavior seemed, especially now that Karl had confronted him.

Speaking of Karl… Mother seemed quite upset with him when she spoke of him the night before. Going as far as to badmouth him specifically, calling him a ‘conniving little snake’, despite the younger man usually being her favorite by a country mile. Had Karl done something to incur Mother’s wrath? Is that why Karl came all the way over here to make that deal with him? Is he trying to rally the 4 lords to rebel against Mother Miranda?

No... No, no no no, that couldn’t be true, there’s no way.

Even Karl, for all his incredible intellect and hunger for power, was too afraid of Mother Miranda to ever try anything as drastic as that. That being said however, even though Salvatore doubted that Karl would ever try to rebel against Mother Miranda, it did seem like the younger man was trying very hard to get Salvatore onto his side for some reason. In fact, both Karl AND Mother Miranda appeared to be trying to sway the eldest Lord in their favor, though for what reason, he still had no idea.

It was definitely something that made Salvatore slightly wary of the both of them, though.

There’s nothing in this world that Salvatore hates more than doubting his beloved Mother, but even he couldn’t write this oddity of a situation off as a mere one-off incident or sudden change of Miranda’s tune. Mother has been acting very strangely recently, doing things she wouldn’t normally do and acting overly affectionate as if to try and throw everyone off her tracks, and the longer Salvatore thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but wonder, as painful as it was to admit, if maybe Karl was actually onto something.

Logically, he knows that Karl is just being Karl, looking to stir up some trouble for his own, and supposedly Salvatore’s, amusement, and that Mother Miranda is likely just trying to enjoy the time she has left with her children before she leaves on her mission. However, something in the back of Salvatore’s mind can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s more going on than he’s been led to believe by either of them. And as if this situation couldn’t get any more confusing for the deformed man, now his overly anxious and analytical mind was beginning to understand what Karl meant when he said there was something strange going on, no matter how much the rest of him practically screamed to just listen to Miranda like he always has.

Shaking his head of his scrambled thoughts and turning his focus back to his work, Salvatore decides that the best thing he can do right now is keep an ear to the ground on both Mother Miranda AND Karl, just to be fair. He still isn't sure if he plans on being 100% honest with Karl regarding their deal, but he supposes that maintaining a good relationship with the younger man wouldn’t hurt in the event he turned out to be right and Mother’s plan backfired on all of them.

Besides, if Karl did turn out to be right, and Salvatore was ready for if things took a bad turn, he could still be there to rescue Mother Miranda and ensure she’s brought to safety along with them. He’ll have successfully fulfilled his family duties to both Karl and Mother Miranda, without ever having to actually choose which side he was definitively on. A perfect plan if the mutant man says so himself. Now the only thing left to do between now and whenever things started getting interesting was work on the reservoir and wait for his gift to finally arrive, his mood regarding this whole situation greatly improved thanks to Karl’s visit.

Hopefully, if things went well, he’d have some exciting news to tell the younger man the next time they met up.

Maybe he’d even have a new friend to introduce.

#Salvatore moreau #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 village #resident evil 8: village #Karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #mother miranda #moreau x oc #Salvatore moreau x oc #Salvatore moreau x reader #Moreau x reader #beauty and her beast #chapter 4 #fic #fanfic #mine #beauty and the beast

[sapphiresterreart]

Miraculous Ladybug Fanfic: The Enemy

Was reading some fanfic where Marinette is akumatized and had a brief flash of inspiration. Typed this idea as far as I could before boredom kicked in. Unfinished. Unedited. Figured I’d share it anyway.

Summary: Her classmates believe she is the enemy. She’s not. But maybe she should be.

The Enemy

“For so long you’ve endured, treated like an enemy by your so-called friends.”

Damnit. Marinette grimaced, huddling tighter against the bathroom wall. Tikki, please be safe. Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Because I don’t think I can fight this time…

“Help me gather the Chat Noir and Ladybug Miraculous and I will help you, Final Straw.”

She barked a laugh, the powers of the akuma steadily coloring her thoughts. “Final Straw?” She had a glimpse of a masked man and the negativity delved deeper. The butterflies flittered within the outline of a familiar symbol. Strange. Hadn’t she seen that before? “No, no, absolutely not.”

“Oh?” The voice deepened with an unspoken threat. “Surely you want justice?”

“Of course I do.” Black spotted her vision. Ah. She realized. That’s where. “But not with a name like that.”

“Creative one, aren’t you?” A clack echoed: an agitated cane against a stone floor. “Then what do you propose?”

“If I’m truly an enemy to them…” Pastel lips stretched into a steady grin, unfamiliar power rolling through her veins. “Then why not be an enemy to all?”

Including you, Gabriel Agreste.

Like walking into a room at night, she reached within her mind and pulled. Her emotions rippled like a wave of white hot water before it crashed. Somewhere a connection snapped. Black flooded her vision. Noise vibrated in her head and she curled tighter into a ball before she realized she needed to breathe and when she did–

It was like flipping a switch.

Her vision cleared. The emotions short-circuited into nothing. No pain. No joy. Just the dull sensation of numbness. Her head tilted as she examine herself. Interesting. No visible difference. So she was still herself? She didn’t feel the same, so then..?

Hawkmoth’s voice buzzed in her head like a pesky fly. “What have you–”

She swatted the nuisance aside. Troublesome. So then she had been akumatized. That would explain the strange emptiness. Logically, she knew she should feel more than muted surprise at her discoveries. Gabriel Agreste, Adrien’s father, is Hawkmoth. And so what did that matter? Her one purpose was to defeat Hawkmoth and return the misused miraculous to Master Fu. So that’s exactly what she planned to do.

Pity she still appeared normal. School would be a bother but she had to keep up appearances or risk Hawkmoth discovering she knew his identity. True, she didn’t know where that rat had holed himself. But she would find out. Soon.

Marinette idly straightened her clothes and stepped out of the stall. A glance at the mirror confirmed she still appeared as her civilian self. She adjusted her pigtails. There. Presentable to a reasonable degree. Now, what class did she have again?

She pulled out her phone. Several notifications had covered her lock-screen. Her thumb briefly slid along the glass to roll through the messages and she exhaled.

“To change from a hero to a villain.” She checked the time. Right. Physics. “Were they ever my allies at all?”

Did it even matter? No. Not right now. What mattered now was taking down Hawkmoth and restoring order to Paris. She’d deal with her classmates later. For now… For now, she had class to attend and notes to take.

She turned from the mirror and strode out of the bathroom. Hallways stretched before her, lined with doors, and she walked to Ms. Mendeleiev’s classroom. Class had already started and the door was closed. Her knuckles rapped against the door in quick succession and she waited.

The door opened to reveal the purple haired and sharp-eyed teacher. “So glad you could join us, Ms. Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette waited, silent. The teacher eyed her critically but, when the silence stretched, Ms. Mendeleiev huffed. “Hurry along, now.”

Marinette breezed her way into her seat. She ignored the others as they shot the occasional spiteful glare her way. She continued to ignore them until lunch time when Lila staged another scene.

In the cafeteria and surrounded by their classmates, the liar wailed. “And then I went to comfort her like a good friend should but you know what she said to me?”

On cue, Max’s voice prompted her. “What?”

“She threatened me! She said she’d get revenge and take you all away from me. But I didn’t do anything to her! I just don’t know why she hates me so much.”

Marinette had just bitten a forkful of her pasta when rapid footsteps approached and two broad hands slammed against the tabletop. She frowned as her cup of water toppled to the side and splashed onto the rest of the noodles.

“Kim,” she started to say.

“What is wrong with you, Marinette?” The taller boy exploded. “Can’t you see your actions have consequences? Why do you keep hurting Lila?”

Slowly, she lifted her gaze from her water-logged food to the fuming boy. She blinked, slow and steady, and shifted her gaze onto the rest of the group. They watched with equal faces of ire. Silently, she picked up the cup and wiped the damp with a napkin.

“Aren’t you listening?” Kim yelled. “Why do you–”

Without a word, she picked up her tray and stood. She pivoted, Kim hot on her heels, and walked to the trash bins.

“Marinette, I’m talking to you! Stop ignoring–”

She emptied the tray and placed it with the rest of the dirty trays atop the bin. Shame she had to waste food, but. Her vision darkened as Hawkmoth yelled inside her head. But she had priorities. Finished, she shoved aside the man’s voice and she turned away from Kim’s yells and she tuned out the clamor of agitated students. She walked out the door.

She didn’t get very far. This time it was Alya storming after her.

“What was that, girl?” Her former best friend blocked her path, hands on hips. “You don’t get to just brush off our friends like that.”

“Your friends.” Her mouth corrected before she could think. “Kim is not my friend.”

“What?” Alya shot her a look. “Girl, your jealous streak has gone way too far. You need to–”

“I don’t need to do anything.” Marinette corrected once more before she amended. “Well, except for one but that’s irrelevant.”

“What is with you?” Alya crossed her arms. Typical closed-off posturing, Marinette idly noted. Why waste my time? She made to move around the other girl but Alya shifted to block her way. Marinette made to turn around but Alya stepped in front once more. “Stop trying to run away, Marin–”

It was then that a flash of anger struck.

“I am not Marinette.” Oops. That was the Akuma talking for sure.

“…what?”

Hmm. How to fix this? “I am not your Marinette, Alya. Not your friend, not your anything. Not anymore.”

“What?”

“You heard me just fine.” She leveled steely blue to startled brown. “You want Lila? That’s fine. But you don’t get me too.”

With that, she stepped forwards and made it two steps before a hand grabbed her by the shoulder. The anger surged and before she could rein herself in, she had already flipped Alya over her shoulder and down to the ground.

“Stay out of the way, Césaire.” Marinette bared her teeth in a smile. She released the startled girl. “Or you’ll find I’m just as strong an enemy than an ally.”

Alya lay there, winded, as she walked away. Nuisance. Her brows pinched together and a brief bubble of guilt popped in the haze. That’s not right. I could’ve hurt her. I should apologize. But for what? She wasn’t in the wrong. She had one goal. Césaire was in the way and had been warned. She’s my friend. I shouldn’t… She had one goal. She shouldn’t worry about a little thing like teenagers.

She had one goal. And she would achieve it.

Change of plans, Hawkmoth. She mused. There’s no reason to waste time here. Not when she could be revealing the truth. In quick paces, she found the stairwell. She climbed up and up until she reached the roof. Without a thought, she jumped off the ledge.

Familiar words rolled off her tongue. “Spots on.”

A flash of black erupted around her. She flung a black yo-yo out of the smog and swung from rooftop to rooftop in search of butterfly windows and a mansion. It wasn’t until she arrived atop the mansion’s roof did she realize Hawkmoth had been oddly silent.

She darted around until finally she decided to just enter the house. Unsurprisingly, the doors were locked. One smashed window and several severed bars later, she stormed her way through the building. Distantly, police sirens roared but she paid them no head as she tore through the mansion in search of the hidden lair.

The noise increased as she stood in the foyer in front of a mosaic painting. Emilie Agreste.

“Come on out, little butterflies.” She cooed and reached inwards. Like before, she found a string and pulled. Beneath the painting, a butterfly fluttered. There.

Behind her, the mansion doors busted open. “…m’lady?”

“Not your lady.” Slowly, she turned. “Never your lady, minou. What kind of enemy has allies, after all.”

“Bugaboo…” the concern was clear, “what happened?” To you? Went unspoken.

Many things, kitty. She shook her head clear of black spots. “No time, chaton. Hawkmoth is here.”

He straightened. “What? But–”

The butterfly flittered around her pigtails before settling atop her shoulder. “Ah, little butterfly.” She murmured. “I’ll set you free.”

“Lady–”

With that, she flung her yo yo backwards and ripped apart the painting. Oddly enough, Chat yowled like she had struck him instead. She didn’t have time to concern herself with that, though. No. She had to reveal the truth.

Her yo-yo shredded the fabric to reveal a passageway filled with butterflies. Without a backwards glance, she sprinted down the path, guided by white wings. She didn’t have time to wait for her partner. She needed to end this. And she needed to end it now.

“Come out, Hawkmoth.” Her voice echoed within the underground rooms as she vaulted through them. “It’s time.”

Doors opened beneath her slinging yo-yo and she flung herself into the last room: a room lit by a butterfly shaped window. Alone in the light stood a familiar figure. Hawkmoth.

“…just who are you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“I’m who I need to be.” She offered a smile and twirled her weapon. “The enemy, remember?”

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Akumanette #Fanfic

[incarnation-of-victory]

Bakugou’s Fear of Mediocrity and Human Weakness

It’s interesting to see Bakugou’s inner thought process here as he prepares to fight this villain (from the 1st chapter of the spin-off tie-in manga to the Heroes: Rising movie, “Deku & Bakugo: Rising”), especially knowing what we know now about Bakugou and his fears about him not actually being as great as he thinks he is.

For one, the line about “[m]ost of the top heroes show[ing] signs of greatness even as students” echoes the line Bakugou says in the very first chapter of the manga proper:

Both monologues get across similar messages, but I think the one from the spin-off is a little more revealing/blatant, especially with the line “I’m not just a normal middle schooler. I’ll show them I’m different and rise to the top.” This line from the spin-off suggests that Bakugou doesn’t quite think he’s unique from the rest of his peers yet, and that he’s desperate to use this chance to finally prove himself to everybody. Meanwhile, the line from the manga makes him seem more confident in himself, that he’s sure that he’ll be the only one to succeed, while simultaneously disparaging the rest of his classmates. Of course, his words contradict his actions here: Bakugou isn’t as confident in this outcome as he seems, since he goes out of his way to discourage Deku from applying to U.A. because he actually feels threatened by him. Bakugou being the only one to get into U.A. would be a way of him validating his belief (read: hope) that he’s the best after all. Additionally, Bakugou goes on about being the first and only hero/U.A. student originating from Aldera, which, in theory, would be an easy accomplishment, since the middle school is supposedly devoid of any promising hero applicants. This achievement of him being the only one to succeed would also make him seem all the more impressive and exceptional—a unique case, so to speak. His goal should be guaranteed... if it wasn’t for Deku.

So both scenes carry the same idea, but Bakugou is a little more honest to himself in his head (makes sense, naturally). There’s this kind of sad, desperate urgency I get from the spin-off that I don’t get from the manga. It’s just a weird train of thought to have when hunting down a villain, that he’s using this opportunity to prove to everyone (and himself) he’s the great prodigy they made him out to be his whole life. Even though he still needs to reassure himself that he’s not ordinary and is actually “different.”

This whole idea of Bakugou wanting to rise above everyone else stems from this fear of mediocrity. It calls to mind how the literal translation of “Quirk” from Japanese means “Individuality” (the word “quirk” itself also implies some unique trait). This means that your Quirk is essentially what makes you, you. It's what makes you stand out among everyone else. Because Bakugou does place a lot of faith in his Quirk getting him to the top, distinguishing him as someone special. 

The interesting thing is that Bakugou initially wasn’t really aware that he was just more naturally adept—sans Quirk—than other kids his age growing up. The way he comes off in his childhood flashbacks in the manga make him seem more naive, not really understanding why everyone else just can’t as easily grasp the skills he masters so easily:

(I would argue that even current Bakugou doesn’t notice his other good qualities/talents as much, which is probably why it’s so easy for him to twist them into something bad or forget them entirely, and instead fixate solely on his Quirk. This is especially important when it comes to Heroism as a career, and his need to take more things than just raw power into consideration).

The theory that he’s just “better than everyone else” doesn’t fully cement until he gets his Quirk. With this, Bakugou seems to think of himself as someone almost godly or invincible, as someone almost more than just... human. Which is why I think he’s so averse to any suggestion that he has any weaknesses—it’s a reminder that he’s indeed human after all. He’s mortal and fallible and need help sometimes. And being human brings him back down to the level of everyone else, but perhaps even further beneath them, which is exemplified in the infamous creek scene where Deku tries to help Bakugou. And again when Deku tries to save him from the sludge villain. And repeated other instances throughout their lives. Because if Deku, someone who doesn’t even have a Quirk or anything that makes him special, is somehow is able to do something for him, then what does that make Bakugou? If Quirkless Deku is somehow better than Quirk-holder Bakugou, then Bakugou’s power—which is something he built his self-esteem around—essentially means nothing in comparison. Bakugou ends up being just like everyone else, but worse: someone so weak that they need help from a “worthless Deku.”

Another important thing to note is that part of why Bakugou neglects to think of himself as human is because most people never really treated him as such. For one, everybody almost exclusively praised him for his superficial or material strengths that it gave him the idea that he was perfect and had no flaws. In turn, he carries himself this way around others, thus perpetuating how everybody else sees him: as someone who never needs help. I could write a whole other essay on its own of how many times people in the BNHA universe assume that Bakugou doesn’t need help, or that he’s stronger than he actually is. The time the heroes left him to fend off the sludge villain is but one example. Even when Bakugou fell off that log as a child, his other friends disregarded the possibility that he might be hurt, because he’s “strong.” In terms of emotional need, nobody, not even his parents, suspected that Bakugou was still suffering emotionally from the Kamino incident, and that he wasn’t handling it as well as everyone thought he was (Talk about a poker face! For someone so outwardly expressive, it’s stunning to see how well he hides his suffering. The greatest hint we get is him being unusually quiet). All Might even points out his failure to recognize this. As much as Bakugou is responsible for his own actions, others have failed him repeatedly too.

I know I said that “people failing to recognize when Bakugou needs help” could be another post on its own, but I want to point out one scene (or rather two) in particular that showcase how much Bakugou really does need emotional and physical help sometimes.

For one, when All Might and the rescue operation break into the LoV’s hideout to retrieve Bakugou, All Might’s first priority is to verbally comfort/reassure him, as per Nana Shimura’s adage to not only save a person’s life, but their heart/spirit as well. He gives the whole “We are here” line and tells Bakugou he’s okay...

Though he outwardly denies it, the truth of the matter is, Bakugou really was in trouble and needed their help, and he truly was scared. This is clear enough by his initial reaction, which he quickly covers up with a defensive response immediately afterwards. I can’t say for sure whether All Might’s words made him feel much better, but I assume it must have given him at least a little peace of mind.

A similar thing happens when Deku and company pull Bakugou out of the following fight. Again, Bakugou is initially grateful to the team because he really did need their assistance to escape the battle grounds. Though he goes back to grumbling and arguing with Iida immediately after, and denies their part in saving him after they’ve fully escaped, his grateful/relieved, perhaps lightly disapproving smile when grabbing Kirishima’s hand reveals his true feelings.

On a somewhat different note, when Bakugou is having issues, people address them in a poor and/or dehumanizing manner: see the way he was chained and muzzled at the end of the Sports Festival. And not to get too much into the Mitsuki discourse, but the way she tries to curb her son’s behavior does not seem to help either.

Because Bakugou is so ingrained in this mentality that he’s supposed to be invulnerable, he isn’t able to interpret basic human concern properly when it’s shown to him, notably when it’s one of the few people who ever treated him like a human being: Deku. Not only that, but Deku knew Bakugou before he got his Quirk, and admired him for his other traits as well, such as his confidence and determination. But Deku never blindly idolized his friend either: he notes several times (to other people) Bakugou’s bad qualities too. The distinction here is that Deku never paints Bakugou as a lesser or bad person for it. Instead, he accepts who Bakugou is as a whole, while still acknowledging him as someone worth looking up to.

An investment in being the best is fine and all on its own, but not when it starts to infest other aspects of your life, especially socially. Bakugou’s antisocial tendencies are probably mostly due to him just deeming activities that don’t allow him to prove himself as a waste of time, but I also feel that some of it is due to his fear of appearing as a normal human being—as someone who sometimes just wants to spend time with his friends purely for the sake of enjoying their company. As someone who needs other people. I think this also kind of applies to his inability to be emotionally vulnerable around others, as well as to accept acts of kindness and affection. It’s what makes him human. This is why Bakugou only comes to Deku when he needs to open up—because Deku is one of the few people who knows him for everything he is, who recognizes him as a flawed individual. And again, Deku never looks down on him for anything (despite Bakugou’s former belief). Not even when Bakugou cries.

All this really comes down to is Bakugou accepting other people’s help and relying more on collaboration than just taking on enemies solo. I think having him participate in other, non-combative activities, such as playing in a band in the School Festival Arc, is a good way to ease him into this methodology. Also, since it seems to be a trend at this point, it’d be nice to see him be hugged at least once without making a face. Though I do think it’s at least good that people are being more attentive to his emotional needs, whether it be in praising him (when it’s warranted), or comforting him (even if he thinks he doesn’t need it). Like yeah, I highly doubt Bakugou will ever be much of a touchy-feely person.  But at the very least, he needs to know that other people care about him as a human being, and that this concern doesn’t make him any less of a talented, powerful individual.

#this literally just started with one panel from the spin-off and spiralled into something else #apologies if this is all over the place #bnha meta #i guess? #bakugou katsuki

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of June 5th, 2019

Best of this Week: Justice League #25 - Scott Snyder, James Tynion IV, Jorge Jimenez, Alejandro Sanchez and Tom Napolitano

The Year of the Villain is upon us.

The book begins with Clark in his youth, impatient and wanting to solve all of his problems by using his power, but being told to be patient by Pa Kent. Cutting to the future where he and Jon can’t light a lamp in Pa Kent’s honor, he’s drenched in rain under the cover of night. In the present an emaciated Superman floats through the Sixth Dimension in total darkness, left there by the glistening White Superman of the Utopia created by the World Forger.

Elsewhere, the League fights their future selves in an amazing action sequence by Jimenez and Sanchez. The clashing of ideals is in full force as these perfect beings from different eras fight each other for the future. Our Justice League fights with the fury of youth, uncompromising in their belief that a future where the lives of billions are lost in order to achieve justice is no future at all. The Future League, however, with their vast experience and tainted souls fight with  certainty, knowing that their world has no pain or injustice.

Their battle is captured excellently through sheer scale and intensity as the book rumbles on. Wonder Woman knows what she’s capable of taking and throws down on her older self with punches and kicks befitting a warrior with the heavy impacts to match. Lantern Stewart has an architectural mind, but his older self has obviously come across bigger, but doesn’t count on the flash decking him right in the mouth. The Flash himself doesn’t see it coming when he catches a flurry from himself and who I believe to be Wally and Bart as they phase in and out of existence.

Martian Manhunter uses his shapeshifting abilities to become something out of any Kaiju movie as he tears through the city and himself. Batman… dear God Batman and his beautiful Bat-Mech. The machine is over designed with sharp edges, a bright white color scheme with a gold Bat logo and big dumb Bat wings, but it is AMAZING to look at. Appearing to be on the side of the World Forger, he tells the team to see the Light, telling them to listen to his words and imagine light as they get beat down by their future selves.

Back in the Sixth Dimension, Batman thinks back to the light ceremony and how the League was there to help him and Jon and suddenly lights begin to appear, not just any lights… suns. In what may be one of the greatest sequence of pages in the last few issues of Justice League, (and there have been some great ones) Superman is reenergized. He dives through one sun and then another and another, regaining the hope and strength that he is so known for and rushes towards his friends,

The World Forger readies his hammer to strike this future reality into existence until he feels the vibration. He tells Future Lois Lane to shoot it down, but she sees the “S” and begins to cry. Flash sees him, Diana, J’onn and especially Bruce as Superman RAGES INTO THE BATTLE AND WITH A SINGLE, WORLD EXPLODING, PUNCH puts and end to the World Forger’s machinations.

Instead of destroying the World Forger in that instant, he extends his hand, telling him that there is another way to save the Multiverse if he joins the Justice League. Batman had his suspicions of the future the whole time and upon learning of Superman’s fate, decided to give him a chance to find his way back to his friends and if he didn’t then the Utopia was meant to be, but he always knew that Clark would find a way. Clark focused on hope and the happy memories. He knew that there was always another way and that the World Forger’s ideas that there was only one path or a few that involved him fighting against the Justice League were misguided and that there was one he hadn’t considered; joining them.

Before jumping into the latter 1/3rd of the book, I have to praise this book for having such a satisfying conclusion to this arc. I love that the League didn’t just have to vanquish another threat, but gained a new ally in their fight against the coming Doom. The art was amazingly frenetic and bright with the colors popping in ways that made everything all the more epic and badass. Shading and detailing made everything seem so much more inspiring and dire at times, which is exactly what this needed with special praise going to the single splash page of Superman roaring his arm back for a Real Superman Punch.

Things finally coalesce with the second story of this issue written by James Tynion IV and drawn by new series regular artist, Javier Fernandez. Paying off the events of the Year of the Villain One-Shot, Lex Luthor has made his plea to the people of Earth. After the Legion of Doom saves the world from a raging Mxypytlk, Lex tells them what a mess of things the Justice League made of the Source Wall. He encourages the citizens of the world to shun the League and become Villains just like him as it’s the only way to save themselves since the heroes obviously can’t.

The people are listening and have already started rioting in the streets. Unlike in The Last Knight on Earth, the League has hope. The World Forger hopes to gain the aid of his brothers, the Monitor and the Anti-Monitor. Starman hopes to gain the aid of other heroes from the Multiverse. Wonder Woman wishes to stay on Earth and utilize the Largest League that there has ever been and J’onn says that they have to do it all. At the same time, after his supposed Death, Lex brings himself back to life in a strange body, saying that Doom is just beginning.

I have never been more excited for Justice League than I am now, especially given how widespread this story will be. There are hints of the same kind of scale as Jonathan Hickman’s run on Avengers, with every small thing in every tangential book affecting some part of the larger narrative and that’s the kind of storytelling that I adore. Offers are going to be going out to every villain in the DC Universe and things are only going to be more intense from here on out and I am here for it.

HIGH Recommend.

---------------------------------------------------

Slade Wilson is dead.

Runner Up: Deathstroke: R.I.P. #44 - Christopher Priest, Fernando Pasarin, Ryan Winn, Jeremy Cox and Willie Schubert

With a large crowd of mourners, we get an idea of how respected and reviled the Terminator was in the larger DC Universe, or at the very least, in the realm of villainous circles. Talia al Ghul bids him farewell and says that he will be welcomed in hell. Red Lion, Priests pastiche of Black Panther, pays his respects to “de ultimate wheelon.” Raptor, Killer Frost and Deadshot all show up to pay respects, with Deadshot saying that he always thought he'd be the one to take Wilson out and how he feels cheated.

Dr. Ikon, who was put into a coma by Jericho and subsequently hunted by Slade for daring to have a relationship with his son shows up and wishes Slade had at least given him his eye back. Even his ex-wife, Adeline Kane cries as she views the funeral, damming him for dying even after all of mess they've put each other through.

The Legion of Doom appears and tries to assert their dominance over the crowd, but remain calm as Sinestro remarks that Deathstroke was one of the few that could legitimately stand with the group as he analyzes the body.

Superman, who Deathstroke fought all the way back in issue #8, appears above the proceedings to make sure that everything stays cordial amongst the many attendees. Meanwhile, Jericho, angry that his father's even getting a funeral, tries to goad Superman into bringing all of the villains in attendance down, but Superman disagrees. He says that no one is committing and crime and the boy just gets angrier.

At the Titan's base, Red Arrow tries to comfort Damian, telling him that Deathstroke's death wasn't his fault and that even though Damian wanted him dead, Emiko had to be the one to loose the arrow. Unbeknownst to either, Jericho takes over Emiko's body and attacks Damian, cursing them for killing Deathstroke before taking over Kid Flash's body soon after.

For the entirety of this run, we've seen how negative Slade and Jericho's relationship is. Jericho hates his father and that has poisoned his entire life. Knowing he's being mourned pisses off the former Titan, but hearing that another Titan was the one that killed him sends him into a rage. It's similar to his heel turn in Geoff Johns spectacular Teen Titans run in the mid 2000s where he didn't want more kids to suffer, but this time he's the one suffering.

At the same time, Rose Wilson attacks people dressing up as her father as his face is shown all over screens in a city and Detective Gordon tells her that Slade wouldn't have wanted her to follow in his footsteps as he was told by Wintergreen, echoing the most early issues of Deathstroke, like #4 - #5 I believe

.continuing his rage, Jericho, in Kid Flash's body attacks Sinestro, who uses his Ultraviolet ring to tap into Jericho's repressed emotions and fires upon the crowd. Doctor Light reveals that Superman was just a projection and disables Jericho and the Legion ponders what to do with the boy. With Deathstroke dead, the Legion makes their first Offer for Year of the Villain and gives him a chance to join them and with his current mental state, who's to say that he won't?

Deathstroke has been a weird and convoluted ride at times, but the character work herein has been phenomenal. We've seen the root causes of what makes Deathstroke himself so poisonous and how that's affected his children.

Jericho wears the mask of a hero, but underneath, he's scarred. He nearly kills a man he loves on the off chance that he may tell Slade of it, causing Slade to hunt him and now he himself is falling to the dark side.

Rose has always straddled the line, but her father kept her on the side of good at least by discouraging her from being him. Her anger at his death may drag her into the same pit as Jericho, especially after trying to solve the mental break she had, thinking she was overcome with the Spirit of a Hmong warrior.

There's going to be a war to determine who the next Deathstroke will be and if that doesn't excite everyone, I don't know what to say other than High recommend.

#comics #dc #dc comics #justice league #legion of doom #year of the villain #batman #superman #hawkgirl #the flash #green lantern #lex luthor #braniac #scott snyder #jorge jimenez #javier fernandez #deathstroke #slade wilson #jericho #ravager #christopher priest #fernando pasarin

[gyrlversion]

James Cracknells wife Beverley Turner reveals why their marriage sank

Beverley Turner with two of the former couple’s children Croyde and Kiki

Fifteen years ago, Beverley Turner looked on with pride as her husband stepped on to the podium in Athens to accept his second Olympic gold medal.

In a moment of fatherly exuberance, a jubilant James Cracknell swept his baby son Croyde into his arms as he celebrated his win in the coxless fours (he’d won his first four years previously in Sydney).

‘As long as I wake up beside him tomorrow morning, I’ll be happy,’ said Beverley, in the post-win, celebratory glow.

Contrast that with this weekend, when 46-year-old Cracknell became the oldest winner in the Boat Race’s 190-year history, rowing for Cambridge University, where he is studying for an MPhil in human evolution.

It should have been a moment of triumph: but this time, on Sunday, the Cracknell children, Croyde, now 15, and daughters Kiki, ten, and Trixie, eight, watched the race with their mother at a friend’s home.

‘The kids needed to see that this enormous family sacrifice wasn’t entirely in vain’, Beverley, 45, wrote yesterday in an extraordinarily honest, unvarnished account of the breakdown of the couple’s 17-year marriage — which has rather taken the lustre off his win.

‘James has spoken publicly about this latest feat, demonstrating to his children that you can do anything you set your mind to.

‘He won’t mind me admitting I consider that b******s. I wouldn’t want my children to view such an exit from familial responsibilities as something to aspire to.’

James Cracknell grins with delight after finishing the Boat Race on Sunday. He was part of the Cambridge University Boat Club Crew, which one the annual event

In the piece, published in The Times, she details not just the impact of life after a brain injury (James was put into an induced coma after being hit by a truck in July 2010), but also how the strain of being an Olympic calibre sportsman — and of being married to one — took its toll. It all must make deeply uncomfortable reading for Cracknell.

In the article, Beverley wrote of fearing the ‘dreadful example’ they were setting their children of married life, of her deep-rooted fear of being ‘ground down’, and of the ‘absolute dereliction of parenting and marital duty’ that training for the Boat Race had entailed — along with details of ‘snapping, sighing, arguing and slamming doors’.

While she said their relationship was — and still is — one built on ‘mutual respect and admiration’, she also chronicled behaviour that anyone can see would put strain on a marriage.

‘When James spent 50 days rowing across the Atlantic with Ben Fogle in 2005, he failed to discuss his plans with me in any detail despite us having a two-year-old son,’ wrote Beverley. ‘The difference in 2018 was whether I could reasonably live with these exhausting, self-centred pursuits for the rest of my life. I prefer the journey to the destination . . . James is all about the target.’

She insisted she does not put the end of their marriage solely down to his personality changes. She admitted that it had not been perfect before his brain injury because of the frustrations which can arise from being married to an ‘extremely driven man’.

‘As any woman will admit, there comes a time when you are sick of waking up alone on holiday because these alpha males are already at the laptop or on the rowing machine,’ she said.

‘Twice we went to Barbados and James spent three hours a day on the running machine inside the hotel. Most women want a partner to drink Buck’s Fizz with on the beach. We don’t want a man who’s fitting in gym sessions around kids’ club hours.’

James Cracknell was seen heading to a gym in London on Monday, a day after his Boat Race triumph. His estranged wife Beverley Turner was also in the mood for keeping fit – she headed out for a jog

The broadcaster, herself once a competitive swimmer, also revealed that she had been ‘sure he would fail’ to compete in the Boat Race, as it was ‘ludicrous to think he could regain the strength and stamina required to sit alongside 20-year-old rowers’.

In the piece, Beverley also wrote candidly about the impact of her husband’s accident.

In 2010, just after becoming the highest placed Briton ever in the gruelling Marathon des Sables, Cracknell nearly died. He was cycling across America, on another endurance challenge, when he was hit by the wing mirror of a petrol tanker travelling at speed.

It caused his brain to slam forward, crushing the frontal lobes — the part of the brain that controls personality. He was put into an induced coma, regaining consciousness in a hospital in Phoenix, Arizona, a few days later.

Beverley, who has her own antenatal class business, has spoken openly about the accident, of being in a Las Vegas hotel when she received the phone call that turned life upside down.

Doctors warned her that she might see changes in her husband, including an inability to read emotions, irascibility, laughing or crying out of context, and arguing.

Those warnings, it turned out, were frighteningly accurate. (She explained: ‘The aftercare the NHS provides for the brain injured is hopeless.’)

Yesterday she wrote: ‘After a brain injury, a couple’s dynamic typically becomes one of parent and child: complete with nagging, resentment and sulking.’

She added: ‘When I told a friend that James was off to Cambridge, he said: ‘You never know, you might miss him.’ I replied: ‘But I’ve missed him for eight years.’

She continued: ‘The problem with a brain injury is that the supporting partner is never entirely sure what can be attributed to the condition and what is just your partner being a d***.’

Happier times: James and Beverley married in 2002 but his ceaseless desire for success eventually drove a wedge through their relationship

She also revealed that James’s appearance last year on reality TV show Celebrity Island had been a welcome break, and that ‘the calmness that descended on the house during those six weeks was illuminating for me. Yes, single parenting is incredibly hard, but the house was oddly more oxygenated for all of us.’

This latest piece is not the first time Beverley has detailed the problems in their marriage. The couple also wrote a book about their experience called Touching Distance, in which they discussed the impact of the accident on their marriage.

In interviews they have referred to a statistic: 75 per cent — the percentage of marriages in which a person sustains a brain injury that end within three years.

‘Look, we’re lucky,’ she told The Sunday Times. ‘He should have been dead. Yes, there are days when I think, ‘How can I live with this for ever?’ But I probably will. That’s probably good enough.’

The inclusion of the word ‘probably’ was, in the end, an echo of what was to come. Beverley, a high-achiever who put her own career on hold at the beginning of her marriage to support her husband’s sporting endeavours, heralded her account of the disintegration of her marriage on Twitter. ‘Behind every great man an’ all that…’ she tweeted on Sunday.

Anyone who has read of the couple’s journey since that fateful day in July 2010 will know that Beverley has been crucial in her husband’s recovery.

The couple first met in the Jordanian desert, where they were chained together for two hours in a Bedouin tent for a television programme. Cracknell was riding high after his first Olympic gold in 2000 and Beverley was an up-and-coming sports television presenter. They got engaged soon after. He proposed in Croyde Bay in Devon — hence their son’s unusual name — and married in 2002 at Clearwell Castle in the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire.

She once laughed about how he would select a target on a map and put his foot down until they arrived. ‘James needs a goal, and pity the person who stands in his way,’ she said, in 2009, less than a year before his accident.

She does not blame her husband’s brain injury for the end of her marriage: ‘That’s too simplistic — it wasn’t perfect before.

‘I have spent many evenings in the company of Olympic medallists and it’s obvious to me that such ambitions rarely arise from a healthy psychological place.

‘Having to endure physical and emotional torture to prove oneself on a global stage starts as a blessing, but its inescapability is often a curse. How can these characters ever truly be happy when nothing but external validation drives them on?’

Long accustomed to the strains of being married to an elite athlete and perpetual adventurer, the pressures that have long over-shadowed the Cracknell marriage must have become unbearable for them to have parted.

As Beverley wrote yesterday: ‘My father talked to me recently about ‘pebbles on the beach that rub together over the years until the corners are knocked off and they sit smoothly together’.

‘But Dad,’ I said, ‘that literally means being ground down. And I can’t do that.’

As far back as 2005, a year after that jubilant moment of familial pride in Athens, Beverley was openly speaking of the ‘massive rows’ that preceded the first of her husband’s post-Olympics challenges — his Atlantic rowing expedition.

‘Look, I married a rower, but I didn’t marry Sir Ranulph Fiennes,’ she said in an interview with the Mail. ‘It is only in the last couple of weeks that I have reconciled myself to the fact that he is going — and that he has his reason for doing it.

‘It is the right thing for him to do at this stage in his life; but it is hard, especially after I’ve been so good about his career. We’ve made endless sacrifices, never having a weekend in five years, never having a holiday, having so little time together. And now this.’

They weathered that storm (Cracknell and Fogle took 49 days, 19 hours and 8 minutes to complete the challenge), and Beverley was a tower of support as her husband went on to complete the London Marathon, a race to the South Pole (with Fogle again), the Marathon des Sables, and more. And then came the accident.

James and Beverley attended the annual Pride of Britain Awards together last month

Beverley was warned her husband might not recognise her (he did), but when they flew home four weeks later, it didn’t feel like a celebration.

While Cracknell’s physical recovery went well, the mental challenges, including bouts of epilepsy and behavioural changes, were harder to overcome. He became irrationally strict with his children, there was a terrible outburst when Beverley was five months pregnant and he had his hands around her neck.

‘Even as I looked into his eyes, I felt sorry for him — he was the one in the grip of a dreadful condition,’ she said in 2014.

But instead of taking it easy, Cracknell was spurred into yet more feats of endurance. Within six months of the accident, the couple were discussing his next challenge: another bicycle race. If anything, it would seem, the athlete’s determination post-brain injury has become steelier.

He started to apply for university courses after appearing on Celebrity Island with Bear Grylls last year, but at the same time his wife noticed his ‘behaviour had deteriorated’.

She took him to a neuropsychologist, who told them Cracknell had ‘tunnel vision’ and that ‘frontal-lobe injury makes you more of yourself’.

Having won a place at Cambridge (a year after attempting to become an MEP candidate), the strains on the couple became too great.

And what of the rower in all of this? Before the split was announced, Cracknell spoke of his determination not to be seen through the prism of the accident.

‘I had some bad characteristics before the accident as well, so it’s not fair to label being stubborn and selfish on the truck driver.’

Last week he told BBC Radio 5 Live they had tried everything to hold it together. ‘We’re also, as any couple is, different people from who we were 17 years ago and we can look back and saw we did everything.’

As for his brain injury, he said: ‘It’s not like the accident was last year, it was nine years ago, but I guess there’s an element of if you’re the partner you always judge your other half through the prism of what has happened.

‘As a sportsman, you are slightly single-minded and stubborn, which is great if you’re the sportsman but not great to live with. So if you become more of that, that’s an issue.’

His wife, meanwhile , insists there is ‘no animosity’. Even though they were separated, the family spent Christmas together.

One suspects the rower will now be looking for his next challenge, but he is clear on one thing: ‘But for Bev, I wouldn’t be here now and able to be who I am now.’

Had he only realised that earlier in the couple’s troubled union, the marriage might still be afloat.

The post James Cracknells wife Beverley Turner reveals why their marriage sank appeared first on Gyrlversion.

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