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mike-faist-is-the-best · 6 years

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Believe (Connor)

Summary: You find out a secret about Connor

Warnings: swearing, and I think thats it

A/N: Here it is! I worked really hard on this, and yes, there will be a second part. Enjoy :) @mekiimaki here you go babe

masterlist

When you were younger, you always wanted to believe in magic. Your parents were supportive, and bought you plenty of books about magic and mythical creatures to fuel your imagination. At age 11, you would play by the lake just a few minutes away from your house, pretending that there was mermaids in that lake. You’d imagine big, beautiful mermaids with blue luxurious tails and hair that was made of silk being your best friends. At school, you would brag that a mermaid was your best friend. As you grew older, though, those days of playing by the lake drifted away. You realized that there was no possible way that mermaids existed. At least, that’s what you thought.

“Hey, mom, I was thinking of going to the coffee shop after school.” You said, sitting down with an apple for breakfast.

“That’s fine, just make sure you have enough time to finish your homework.” She said, kissing your head before leaving for work. You knew she cared, but it was difficult to talk to her when she said a sentence to you a day.

“Thanks mom.” You said even though you knew she didn’t hear you.

“Hey kiddo. You going to the lake after school today?” Your dad asked, smirking slightly.

“No, dad.” You groaned.

“I remember you used to spend all your time there. You would grab your little drawing book, and draw pictures of mermaids and then run back home to show us a new friend you made.” Your father said, remembering the days you were naive and full of imagination.

“Dad!” You exclaimed, embarrassed about your past self.

“Hey! It was adorable.” he said, kissing your forehead before leaving for work himself. You decided to get ready for school, putting on a simple t-shirt and jeans, along with a necklace and couple of bracelets. It was tradition to you, wearing bracelets. One was a simple string with different colored beads, mostly blue, and the other one was a friendship bracelet you made yourself, but said a mermaid gave to you when you were younger. The only reason you kept it is to remember your childhood, and to have the same innocence as before.

“Hey, mermaid girl, seen any mermaids lately?” A boy mocked, looking at you as he was passing the halls. You heard light laughter from a group of girls who heard the comment. You ignored them, and focused on getting to your locker. Nothing anybody said would physically affect you, you thought to calm yourself down.

“Mermaid girl!” Someone called out, making you put your head down. Just ignore them, you thought, they don’t know anything.

You finally made it to your locker, and sighing when you saw stickers and drawings of mermaids on your locker. Slowly, you got the wipes from your backpack to try and get them off. This was a daily occurance, to have to deal with assholes like that. It was frustrating, but nothing like when people used to pour water on you to ‘be with them’. Your life wasn’t that miserable, most days, people left you alone, and only talked about you behind your back.

“Hey.” Someone said, scaring you slightly.

“Sorry, am I in your way?” You asked, thinking that they were trying to get to their locker.

“No, just, god this is stupid, I think that you don’t deserve the shit you get.” The boy said. He had shoulder length brown hair, but it seemed to be more of a golden brown, most likely form being in the sun a lot. He stood awkwardly, with a black hoodie, black jeans, and black combat boots. The only thing that he was wearing that wasn’t black was his socks that were bright orange and barely showing above his shoes.

“Oh, thank you.” You said, shocked by what he said.

“Oh, I’m Connor. Connor Murphy.” He said, holding out his hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You said, shaking his hand. He smiled slightly before rushing off, presumably to class. That was weird, you thought, although a nice gesture. Looking at the time on your phone, you realized you needed to start walking to class, since it was on the other side of school and you didn’t want to run into anyone else after that bell rang.

“Mom! I’m back from the coffee shop!” You called out, walking into your house. “I got you a croissant!”

You sighed, realizing nobody was home. Dropping the bag on the counter, you made your way to your room. Your room was unlike other teenagers. It was fairly clean, with a few papers on the floor. At age 13, you wanted to paint one of your walls a light blue, so your parents painted it for you. The other walls were an off-white color, but were filled with drawings and posters of your favorite movies. It also had a rug on the floor that you’ve had your whole life. The rug was a blue color, slightly darker than your wall. When you were younger, you’d pretend that it was water, and you would swim with the fishes and mermaids. Some part of you still wanted to believe in mermaids, even if you got shit for it. Your bed was a decent size. It had been the same bed you’ve had for about 8 years. It lasted through silly sleepovers where all of you would jump on the bed. It lasted when you got your first boyfriend in freshman year and you’d roll on the bed to express the love you you thought you had, and then a week later when you got dumped, it sympathized with your broken heart and the tears you shed over that boy. Now, you didn’t really have those fun, childish moments. Your bed was mainly used for sleeping and occasionally sitting on to do homework.

“Y/N, hey, it’s Aunt Sylvia! Just wanted to say hi! I miss you so much and I really wish you’d call more! You remember when you would call me and talk about your mermaid friends-” You deleted the voicemail before your aunt could finish. It wasn’t that you didn’t love your aunt, of course you loved her, but your aunt Sylvia often loved to talk about your former obsession with mermaids that it made it annoying to talk to her. When Christmas would roll around a while ago, the only thing you’d ever ask for was mermaid toys and mermaid books. And everybody got them for you of course, but some of your older cousins laughed at how obsessed you were, but at that time, you didn’t care. Now when you faced your cousins, usually at family gatherings or around the holidays, you could barely have a conversation with them. You were embarrassed of your past, and you probably wouldn’t be if nobody made fun of you for it.

“You know what?” You said to yourself. “Who do I need to prove? I can go to the lake, and I can just look at the water.”

Getting to the lake was like a trip down memory lane. There was a little forest-y area you had to cross and you remember that you would wander through as if you were an explorer, searching for the sacred lake, or the home to the mermaids. There was a rock right by the lake, where you would sit and draw the mermaids. Another rock resided a little ways into the lake where you’d imagine a mermaid would sit, running a hand through their hair and flapping their tail happily. But, as you approached the lake, you noticed something. Someone’s clothes scattered around the shore. A black hoodie, black jeans, and, no, it can’t be, orange socks stuffed inside combat boots. The exact outfit you saw Connor wear earlier. Did something happen to him? Did he decide to run around naked? Skinny dip in the lake? That was crazy, especially since it was freezing this time of year, and you couldn’t see anybody inside of the water. It was almost dark, but you couldn’t help worry about Connor.

“Connor?” You called out, and you realized how small your voice sounded. If he was here, he would have to be extremely close to be able to hear you. “It’s Y/N, we met today. I don’t even know if you can hear me, but if you can, can you do something to tell me you’re okay? Like, if you’re in the water, splash or something, and if you’re in the forest, throw a rock or something. I’ll leave, I just want to know if you’re okay.”

At first, nothing came, but after a minute, a hesitant splash from the water was heard. You turned around quickly, trying to find Connor, but all you saw was unsteady water. You assumed he was hiding, maybe he was naked, or just didn’t want to be seen. You understood that.

“Okay, I’m leaving. Just, please, be safe.” You said, walking away from the lake.

The next day, you had a desire to go to the lake again. This desire hadn’t been there in such a long time. You smiled slightly, maybe you could grow to love it again.

Walking straight to the lake after school, you were cautious to avoid anyone from school. If they knew you were going to the lake, you’d never hear then end of it. You reached the lake fairly quickly, taking different paths than you normally would. As you got there though, you heard someone else’s footsteps, cruching the leaves around you. Perhaps it was some teenagers who decided to make out in a secret place, or it was someone doing drugs away from home. But, as you peeked overthe tree you were currently hiding behind, you noticed someone with brown hair undressing. Oh my god! Connor was here again! Did he always have to be here? It wasn’t that you didn’t want him here, more that you were sure he didn’t want you there. As you were going to leave, you watched Connor dive into the water and something appear where his feet and legs were. It couldn’t be. Connor had a fucking tail.

“I need to talk to you.” You said to Connor as you found him in one of the halls after school.

“Uh, Y/N, hi.” He said with a hesitant voice.

“I saw you yesterday.” You said, pointing at him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He was trying to act casual, and he was doing a good job at it, but you know what you saw yesterday.

“Yes you do. After school, you went to the lake and you jumped in the water and guess what I saw? A fucking-”

“Would you shut your goddamn mouth?” He asked, putting a hand over your mouth.

“What’s the real reason you talked to me a couple days ago?”

“Because you were getting shit-”

“No. It’s because you have a tail!” You exclaimed quietly as possible. Even if it was after school, there were still some people lurking in the halls. Some of them briefly looked over to the two of you fighting, but they didn’t understand what was going on and quickly lost interest.

“Okay fine!” He exclaimed. You couldn’t help but smile slightly. You dreamed of this moment for so long, and all that teasing, all that bullying. They didn’t know. “Why the fuck are you smiling?”

“I have so many questions.” You said.

“Well can we go somewhere else? I really don’t want to talk about this at school.” He said and you nodded

The two of you ended up at the lake, where you had put your feet in the water, and Connor was somewhat far away from it.

“When did you become a mermaid?” You asked and he rolled his eyes. “What, what’s wrong with that question?”

“At least say merman.” He said and you smiled.

“Okay, well when did you become a ‘merman’?” You rephrased.

“My whole life.” He said.

“Does anyone else know?” You asked and he shook his head.

“The only people who know are my family and now you.” He said.

“Is your family merpeople?” You asked and he nodded. “Do they live in the water?”

“Yes. But it’s different.” He said. “Listen, my family, they aren’t human like I am.”

“What?” “It’s more like you think it’s weird and different that I’m a merman, but they think it’s weird that I’m a human.” He said.

“Do merpeople have blue tails?” You asked and he laughed. “Why’s that so funny?”

“Yes, they do. But not all of them. It’s like hair color, except it’s colored tails. Most people have blue or green tails.” He said.

“Can you change the color of it?”

“No.” He said.

“What color is your tail?” You asked.

“Gray.” He responded and your eyes widened slightly.

“Are you like the odd one out?” You asked.

“I guess you could call me that.” He said. “My family’s royalty.”

“Holy shit. This is the best thing in the world. You’re like the Little Mermaid.”

“No! I’m not like the Little Mermaid!” He exclaimed, which made you laugh.

“Wait. If your whole family lives in water, where do you live?” You asked.

“Um, in the water?” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Where does your family live?” You asked.

“I don’t live with my family. I live in the water. But if you actually wnated to know, they live in the Pyltics.” “Pyltics?” You asked.

“Sorry, it’s like the rich peoples area.” He said and you nodded.

“This is like the best thing ever. You know, when I was younger, I dreamed of mermaids and eerybody told me they weren’t real. This moment right now, I finally believe in my dreams.”

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themyskira · 7 years

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THAT Wonder Woman script, part 3 of why do you hate us joss

PREVIOUSLY IN THIS SHITTY MOVIE:

Diana left her extremely heterosexual all-women island commune to take a gap year and discover herself! And also because a boy turned up and dazzled her with his moral superiority!

The pair arrived in a stereotypical war-torn African country, where Diana unhelpfully escalated a situation, got shot and was deeply offended that she took six whole hours to heal from a near-fatal bullet wound, while Joss tried unsuccessfully to insert his own gun politics into the story.

Then they went to America, where Diana was hilariously mistaken for a sex worker and shamed for her revealing clothing!

We also met our villain! Well, villains, because why have one quality bad guy when you can have about six bargain bin ones. Roll call!

whosit the stereotypical African warlord; he’s out of the picture

whatshisface the stereotypical gangster, who’s about to get condescendingly lectured at

Discount Veronica Cale, an embarrassing caricature who runs Evil Incorporated, which secretly fuels war and panic and inequality all over the globe because fear is tasty etc.

Strife, a Greek goddess who Whedon has retooled into a male demigod for no reason I can see

The Khimaera, which is either a mythical creature or an industrial-sized drill or possibly a combination of both, it really hasn’t been adequately explained

Ares, the evil behind the curtain

no, I know, I’m shocked the studio passed on this kind of quality material, too.

Diana is still tracking Kleen, and she believes she knows where she can find him — in a trendy nightclub unsubtly called “Olympus”. Diana tells Steve it’s a ~sign~ because she is obsessed with this shit.

The bouncer gives her shit and calls her “bitch”.

Cut to a minute later, as Steve and Diana walk inside. Griffin has taken the unconscious bouncer’s headset and clipboard and is using his newfound position of power to be a massive douche.

GRIFFIN Okay! Guy from the ‘burbs desperately trying to impress his date, you, yeah get on in. Tee shirt guy. You two…

Two thin supermodel types come up to him—

GRIFFIN (continuing) Go eat something! Go to Arby’s, get some protein, you frighten me.

wow fuck you joss, this is some nice guy sexist bullshit.

Meanwhile, in the club, Diana has found Kleen and his posse. Steve warns Diana that they need to approach with care; if anyone starts shooting, people will die. Diana ignores him and walks right on up.

And at this point you may be thinking, for a mission about busting a crack kingpin, this subplot sure has a disappointing lack of offensive stereotypes. Friends, I have good news for you.

KLEEN […] I keep hearing my product’s getting jacked by some crazy strong bitch in a tiara. That couldn’t be you, ‘cause here you are too scared to speak. It’s sad. The way a funeral is sad. You up in my world now.

The girlfriend slinks up him.

THE GIRLFRIEND What are you talkin’ to her, I need a little sugar—

KLEEN Get ya skank ass offa me while I’m doing business!

Diana proceeds to lecture Kleen about how he can do good if he stops being a captive to society and embraces the “real power … in connection, in community”. It’s some white saviour, white feminist bullshit and Kleen is genuinely furious before he brushes her aside dismissively and warns her not to mess with him again.

Steve trails after Diana, rightly pointing out how irresponsible and completely ineffectual that was. But Diana can’t shake the feeling that there’s something else going on with this place. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s in a bar called Olympus, and the owner has just sent her over a complimentary glass of probably-divine wine. Gosh, do you think the universe is telling her something?!

Diana takes a sip, twigs what’s going on and skols the whole glass. Then abruptly announces that she needs to dance. As she makes for the floor, Griffin asks Steve if he’s gonna dance with her and Steve splutters something to the tune of ‘what no why would I dance with her did someone tell you I like her I don’t like her girls are dumb and they have cooties’ before proceeding to watch her while pretending not to watch her, because he is an actual teenage boy.

Diana reaches the middle of the floor. She raises her arm and holds still. Turns her palm and brings her arm down with ritualistic rigidity. This could go very badly…

Then she moves her leg back and turns, fluidly, a curve rippling up her body as she folds into a dance that is sexual, ethereal and wicked sexy. This is not a warrior march; though it remains idiosyncratic, it is neither out of place nor unnoticed on the crowd floor. […]

BEN Are you watching this?

GRIFFIN (big-eyed) It’s like Christmas…

I think I hate Griffin even more than I hate Steve.

Anyway, guys on the dance floor start fighting over her (of course) and then some divine shit happens, but the important thing is that after Diana does her sexy dance she’s allowed upstairs and into a lush private room where the aforementioned club owner is waiting.

BACCHUS (without turning) I like that you knew you needed to dance for me. And it was worthy; I mean, for a girl [who’s] never seen Soul Train even once you can bend a bit.

yeah Bacchus is a wanker.

The reason he goes by “Bacchus” and not “Dionysus”, btw? “The Romans! They came and changed all our names. How random is that?”

Like I said, total wanker.

Also once again, zero research, because the name “Bacchus” originated with the Greeks -- the Romans just appropriated it. They used the name fairly interchangeably with “Liber”.

DIANA I was told the gods were dead.

BACCHUS (it doesn’t swing) Yeah, well. Most of them are.

DIANA Athena?

BACCHUS Deader than Elvis. […] a God exists because people believe in it. Worship. Is a thing. Goddess of wisdom? Not hanging in, not today. (raises his drink) But nobody ever stopped worshipping wine.

DIANA Or war.

BACCHUS (nodding) Ares, yeah. It’s his world now. I mean, Aphrodite’s still looking good, but not for publication I think she’s had some work done. Also she’s out of her mind.

This is some ignorant, cynical-ass bullshit masquerading as pithy insight. Even if you want to take the most pessimistic attitude towards institutions of learning and culture and science, even if you want to say that what’s driving all of those things is all hard profit and no curiosity, Athena is more than “just” the goddess of wisdom. She is the disciplined, strategic side of war, to Ares’ unbridled bloodshed — and hasn’t Joss just been lecturing us about how warfare has been corporatised and industrialised and monetised? She’s also craft, intellect, learning — you could argue for echoes of Athena in the growth of manufacturing and technology.

And as for Joss’s contemptuous treatment of Aphrodite — well, no surprise there, really, given his demonstrated puritan attitudes towards women’s sexuality.

Diana concludes that “[t]his whole world is mad” and not only is Dionysus doing nothing to help, he’s exploiting it like a douchebag.

BACCHUS You’re a feisty little filly. Let me ask you this:

He picks her up with one hand and slams her onto the bar. Doesn’t even spill his drink.

BACCHUS (continuing) Are you a god? (holding her down) ‘Cause I am and I’m used to being addressed like one.

Then he explains that Ares isn’t playing by “the rules”. “The rules” are vague and kind of nonsensical; basically it appears that gods personify certain concepts, but humans choose how to engage with those concepts: “Wine and revelry, it can bring men together or tear them apart, I can’t choose which. Humans choose. More and more they choose blindness. They choose hate, and isolation.” Whedon’s really hitting his cynical, preachy stride now.

So, according to these very flimsy “rules”, gods are incapable of making people do good or evil; they can only present them with the choice. But people doing evil violent shit makes Ares powerful, so he’s skirting this limitation by getting minions like Strife to push people to do evil violent shit. Except… Strife is also a god… who should be bound by the same “rules”…

Oh, and the other gods can’t stop him because conveniently “the rules” prohibit that as well!

fuuuuuuck this is stupid.

Dionysus rambles some more, tells Diana that Spearhead is Ares’ base of operations and Arabella Callas is his lieutenant.

BACCHUS […] She’s like Medea without the maternal warmth. You wanna get near her. (looks her over) Might need a more subtle look — your boyfriend can help you with that.

DIANA I don’t have a — who?

BACCHUS The pilot. Trevor. (before she can protest) Don’t even bother. Diana, what’s happening between you two isn’t chance. It was predicted by the Oracles millennia ago.

DIANA It was?

BACCHUS (snorts) No. But check out your face when I said it. There’s something going on.

DIANA He’s… a good man…

OH FOR SHIT’S SAKE NOW EVERYONE’S IN HIGH SCHOOL

The trajectory of this romance so far has been roughly this: Boy meets girl. Boy belittles girl at every available opportunity. Both boy and girl profusely deny harbouring any feelings for the other whenever prodded or questioned by those around them. When forced to speak truthfully, boy admits that he is attracted to her — and that he fucking hates it. BY GOSH, IT MUST BE TRUE LOVE.

Dionysus hams it up some more like the tosser he is, then we cut to the “gleaming, phallic grandeur” of the Spearhead tower. Steve and Diana steal the access codes to the building and sneak in undercover — Diana in classic Diana Prince getup.

They break into Callas’s office, where Callas is waiting calmly for them. Diana whips her lasso around Callas’s neck — I don’t know why she always goes for the neck — and Callas answers their every question with an unnerving calm. Yes, obviously she works for Ares. What’s she planning to do to Gateway? Oh, just destroy it. Why? Blahblah extended monologue about creating a glorious “golden age of fear and apathy” where everybody knows their place and does exactly as they’re told.

And at the end of all this, finally Diana thinks to ask how Ares and Callas are planning to achieve world domination. Callas, smugly: “You should have asked that first.” Then the guards bust in, guns blazing.

worst. heroes. ever.

Diana and Steve make their exit through the Evil Corporate War Room. People dive for cover as the guards give chase, firing indiscriminately. A tech guy gets caught in the crossfire and dies dramatically in Diana’s arms because why not. They make it to the creepy prayer chamber, barricade themselves in and — of course — stumble upon the high-tech-magical-silo in which we last saw the Khimaera. The maintenance machines and insectlike repair robots all manifest weapons and start shooting at them.

Diana grabs Steve and leaps down the central shaft and into a dark tunnel beneath the city. Of course, they end up in the same chamber the reporter and the homeless guy we’ve all forgotten about at this point were exploring. Diana identifies the “dragon” in the mural as the Khimaera and the “knight” the reporter thought was St George as Bellerophon. The message is clear, she says: she has to fight the Khimaera.

DIANA […] The Khimaera is here. It’s already working. This was left for me. It’s the sign.

STEVE It’s not a sign. It’s graffiti. Technically, it’s vandalism.

She turns on him, genuinely pissed.

DIANA What is wrong with you? Why do you still deny what is right before your eyes?

Steve, of course, takes this opening to instead expound on what he reckons is wrong with her. He blames Diana for the death of the tech guy just now and implies that all she’s doing with her heroic quests and dragon-fighting is getting people killed.

Which is… that is actually true. But only because Whedon is writing her so abominably.

DIANA I’m trying to keep it from getting worse!

STEVE And it never occurred to you that you’re the reason it’s getting worse? You stand up, call yourself a hero, the uglies are gonna have to bring you down. There’s an old saying: When elephants fight, the mice get trampled.

DIANA So I should, what? Putter around in my plane, bringing help to one of a thousand needy people? That’s a life’s work?

STEVE I used to think so.

DIANA So this is why you’re bitter. Because I—

(With Whedon’s Diana, everything is about her. It’s what she’s supposed to learn from other people’s misfortune, what signs she’s being sent, what the gods are telling her. It’s so fucking obnoxious.)

STEVE Again, this is not the time to talk about my feelings, Diana—

DIANA Because I make you feel small!

STEVE Well, we’re all small compared to you. From up there we probably look like ants.

DIANA I thought you were mice.

STEVE We’re human beings, Diana, and that’s something you will never understand.

oh fuck you joss

DIANA Your people have lost their way. The world crumbles and they do nothing. They need a hero to show them what they can—

No, fuck you, Joss, I can’t even—

STEVE Yes. Yes! We need a hero. Not a demigod sent from on high to lecture us about potential. We need someone with no advantage, no hope, who’s still out there trying. A hero doesn’t decide — ever! — to be a hero. They’re forced into it and they step up and then they live with the consequences.

He’s in her face, seething with conviction. And she is shaken.

STEVE (continuing) You’ll make your show, fight your fight and people will love you for it, and then they’ll need you for it and it’ll start to grate, to bore you and one day you’ll just go back home to paradise. (every syllable hit) Because every day you wake up knowing you can just go back to paradise. (fiercely quiet) You’re not a hero, Diana. You’re a fucking tourist.

Nah. Nah. Fuck you, mate. FUUUUUUUCK. YOUUUUU.

This is the crux of Whedon’s take on Wonder Woman. She is Not Worthy to be a hero and Will Not Be Worthy until she experiences her share of pain and suffering like the rest of us. Because, man, I can buy Greek gods and an island of supernaturally powerful women, but a heroine who’s possessed of both incredible power and great humanity? I’m sorry, that just breaks my suspension of disbelief. Everyone knows you can’t be a hero unless you have it beaten into you first.

This is some nasty, petty-minded, cynical bullshit and it deserves to burn slowly in the development hell to which it was rightly banished.

Just as Steve reaches Peak Douchebag, he receives exactly what he deserves, with Strife materialising to slam him to the ground.

Diana and Strife fight; Strife says what I was just thinking: “So this is a sign, is it? A portent, just for you. Your arrogance is a delight.” Yep; pretty much.

Diana lassos Strife, who casually cuts through the golden lariat. The glow fades as it falls limply to the ground.

He says it’s because his sword was made by Vulcan. I call bullshit, and not just because Joss gives too few shits to say Hephaestus like he means. The lasso is Important. It’s more than just a weapon or an interrogation tool; it is truth incarnate, truth inviolate, and for that to break? That ought to be big and devastating, with larger implications. It ought to mean something.

This doesn’t mean anything; Joss is just using it to signal how fucked Diana is about to be.

Strife materialises behind Steve, puts his sword to Steve’s throat and delights in telling Diana that the only way she can save her boyfriend’s life is to submit to having her bracelets chained and her power taken from her.

What follows is essentially your classic standoff — Steve urging her to kill Strife, don’t worry about him; Diana torn and hesitating — made infinitely more creepy by the dark, predatory... I’ll say it, rapey connotations behind chaining an Amazon and putting her under a man’s power. And god, does Whedon ever play it up.

The chain moves in his hand, twitching slightly. Steve sees the pain on Diana’s face.

STRIFE (continuing) Submit to my will, and I won’t kill him.

Diana hesitates. Steve can barely hiss:

STEVE Take him out…

She looks at him…

STRIFE (disgusted) A true Amazon would never even have hesitated. Your decision is made. Now say it!

STEVE Nnnno…

DIANA Yes.

STRIFE Yes?

DIANA (choking on it) I… submit.

STRIFE Do it.

Slowly, she gets on her knees. Holds out her two hands.

The chain rises, twitching, like a snake, pointed at her, straining at her.

DIANA I submit.

The chain shoots out of Strife’s grasp and attaches to her bands. We pan up from her hands to her face — and there is colour drained from it. Not just ashen shame; she looks less vital, less alive.

STRIFE If your mother could see you now…

Diana looks at herself, at her chains, at her torn and tawdry outfit.

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck

(deep breath)

yooooooooooooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.

(also “torn and tawdry outfit” like now that Diana is depowered and mortal she is no different than the sex worker Joss was encouraging us to laugh at before)

Strife throws Steve aside and teleports himself and Diana away.

i hate everything.

#wonder woman #whedon does wondy

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