forum Craving Enemies-to-lovers, slow-burn // Open OxO // 16+

Started June 08, 2021 by @Ziggy-loves-Shiggy

tune

Aight! Same.

Name: Paris Lara
Age: 19
Gender: Male (he/him)
Personality: SMALL AND ANGRY. Paris tends to be overdramatic and deflects everything with annoyance most of the time. He's soft underneath, but he's not about to admit it any time soon, so he'll just continue yelling and fighting for now (tsundere for sure). If you mention his height he can and will fight you without any hesitation. Will also beat up LGBTQphobic people any time ("nothing feels better than punching a homophobe once in a while"). He likes praise and compliments and attention in general, and secretly likes to be held. Clingy once you get past all the rage. Very touch starved, please be gentle with him.
Appearance: He's about 5'4 with slim, somewhat soft features. He's lithe and fairly athletic, but not incredibly muscular. He has an undercut with platinum blonde dyed hair (his natural hair color is brown, which is visible in the undercut). His eyes are blue, and he has a slit in one eyebrow. He's mostly proportional for his size, but he does have small hands and feet.
Powers: Flight, electricity, some light
Backstory: Paris grew up in a less than ideal household with a father who abused him and his younger sister, London. He usually took the brunt of the damage in an attempt to protect her. It only got worse when his father found out that he was gay, and so Paris ran off with his sister when he was 17. He's always had powers, and has been doing some heroing stuff since he was about 14, but never told his father or sister. He still does it to get some money and to protect his sister.
Suit: He doesn't really have much of a suit, honestly. He tends to wear dark colored heavy duty pants (the kind with lots of pockets aha) paired with a form fitting spandex top underneath whatever he happens to be wearing. The top is patterned with black and yellow, is long sleeved, and has a slim turtleneck of sorts (he made it himself). He also wears a simple black mask that covers his eyes and nose/top half of his face, and usually tousles up his hair to disguise himself a bit further.
Gear: He mostly just uses his powers, but he does carry a pocket knife just in case
Other: Might end up dying his hair different colors if the notion hits him. He tends to be very impulsive and hates to be bored. VERY TOUCH STARVED. Also doesn't like blood much (makes him dizzy and nauseous). He likes to design and make his own clothes, and he can be bribed with sugar. Simultaneously has too much energy and is exhausted (he's running on energy drinks and coffee).

Name: Laken Evander (aka Shadow Bane)
Age: 20
Gender: Male (he/him/they)
Personality: Chaotically strategic a-hole who likes to get under people's skin and watch them squirm. Sly, arrogant, and clever, Laken goes to great lengths to prove how he good he is at what he does. During a first encounter, he appears calm, collected, and ruthless, but if we're being honest, he's a total drama queen. He's sensitive to insults and the opinions of others, low-key obsessed with his appearance and reputation, and can be rather petty and spiteful if you make him mad. He romanticizes things sometimes and is actually way kinder in heart than he often appears to be. He can even become altruistic, if the situation permits, though nobody usually puts up with him long enough to see that side of him. He's a complex individual, and he knows it. Kind of prideful, to the point of being obsessive over his appearance and insecure at times.
Appearance: Laken stands at a solid 6'3" at the shortest, thin and wiry, but angular. Despite being somewhat lanky, he's solid, with strong limbs. Athletic, graceful, and nimble. He has light olive skin, with pairs nicely with his thick, chocolate brown curls that are styled in an undercut-fade; the top is spiked, fluffy, with the sides being shaved short so that it's almost a hybrid between an undercut and a very lowkey mohawk (just fluffier and curlier than average). Thick eyebrows, a clean-shaven face, and a clean white smile that's usually more of a smug smirk. His eyes are a sharp green-yellow, with long dark eyelashes.
Powers: He can teleport anywhere within a 3 mile radius, but only in shadows. He cannot appear anywhere without shadows, nor he can disappear/escape anywhere without shadows. He can also do something that he calls shadow-poisoning, where he touches someone and causes them to become light-headed, disoriented, and completely blinded for a short period of time. They can see only darkness and struggle to think clearly until it wears off; their eyes will black over while they're shadow-poisoned. He becomes physically and mentally stronger in darkness; exposure to unnaturally bright light (not sunlight, but like… prolonged, excessively bright light) will actually send him into a state similar to the shadow-poisoning he can give others. He can touch people without shadowing poisoning them, though. He can become invisible in shadows as well, though his eyes are always visible, a dull yellow-green glow in the black.
Backstory: Laken never met his father; his mother was a prostitute who got pregnant more or less by accident. Her life was upset by the pregnancy, by the baby she never wanted. She almost aborted him, but decided against it. Even so, she had mixed emotions about him once he was born. She cared about him, but there was some bitterness there, and she mistreated/neglected him. She was physically and emotionally cruel, often cold to him; nothing like a mother should've been. She returned to prostitution when Laken was around three years old, and the kind of people she would bring into her home were… not good. Sometimes she was in an alcohol or drug induced stupor. Sometimes the people would harm Laken. He would usually hide in a closet or cupboard, hold his breath, will himself to disappear into the shadows where no one could ever hurt him again.
Who knew that, at the age of 11 years old, the shadows would finally take him?
The moment he learned about his abilities, everything changed. His mother was too busy ruining her own life to notice that he was barely at home anymore, rather trying to master this strange new power. He had grown up hungry and lacking, but his new power allowed him for speed and stealth that allowed him to steal like a pro. As a child, he'd been afraid of the dark, but now— now it was his friend. It was his home.
His mom and him essentially parted ways for good when he was 13. They got into an argument over something dumb; he can't remember what. He told her hated her, never wanted to see her again. She said the same. He left. He doesn't miss her much. He knows the sentiment is mutual.
The next 7 years have formed him into the person he is today. They've been rough, living on the streets for the first bit, working for or against crime gangs, swindling and murdering and stealing his way through life. Bitterness boiling within him, towards people, towards society, towards it all. Darkness is his soul now (or at least, that's what he says, cuz he likes to be dramatic like that).
Suit: Honestly I can't think of a better way to describe his suit other than over-the-top dramatic. Tight black pants that allow for easy movement but also a nice dramatic aesthetic, paired with a sleeveless dark-grey form-fitting shirt with dark-purple accenting on both the shirt and pants. He also has a tool belt cinched around his waist, equipped with a few gadgets he's bought from the black market. But the dramatic part comes from the tall leather spiked boots with chains on them and the ankle-length black trenchcoat with a slightly raised collar. Even when he's not wearing his suit, he's always either underdressed or overdressed for the occasion. No exception.
Gear: Some daggers, guns, and a few gadgets he carries on his belt.
Other: He's scared of crabs. We don't know why. Also a sucker for sweets. He hates politicians.

I love himmmm

And his power is so cool 😭 I can never think of anything good adghmll

Thanks!! I just like shadow powers so I came up with this randomly lol. I'm excited for this; we can start whenever you like. Uh… how do we want them to meet/interact?

Uhhh theoretically Laken could be doing villain stuff and Paris could come in like "Hey stop that" and then becomes a human strobe light or something lmao
I'm always down to injure my characters too so 💅

"becomes a human strobe light"
I love you; you are a genius
Yes, I like it. Injuries are fun so maybe they hurt each other a lil' or a lot idk and Laken might feel bad about it in the future once he realizes Paris's life is crapola

Lmaoo he would definitely research Laken's Weaknesses and be like "AIGHT BET" as he flashes violently
We can also make use of Paris' blood phobia thing of course 👌

Yesssss. Yes to both.

Alrighty! Do you want to start, then? Feel free to get creative with whatever aha

Sure I can try ahah. I usually suck eggs when it comes to starters but I'll give it my best shot. I left it open though so like Paris can show up any time between now and when Laken gets back to his base.

Starter

He was so good at being bad.

Laken grinned devilishly at his easy victory, at the figure slumped against the brick wall in front of him, shoulders drooped, gasping for a labored breath. Dark liquid, blackened by the shadows that the night cast over the quiet alley, seeped from a gaping wound in the man's chest and dripped from the blade hanging loosely from Laken's fingers.

"It's a shame, really," Laken hummed, twisting the weapon in his hand. "Things didn't have to go this way."

"You won't… you won't get away with this," the man rasped; blood spurted from between his colorless lips. "The— the police— the syndicate—"

"That's what they always say, and yet—" Laken stepped closer, pressing his foot against the man's chest, applying pressure. "I always do."

The man cried out; red dribbled down his chin. "They'll kill you! They'll kill you— God, I hope they do."

"Who? The syndicate? Oh, please. Your syndicate is one of the most pathetic crime syndicates in this forsaken city. They can't touch me." Laken removed his foot and bent down closer to the man, lightly running his dagger along the man's jaw. "And the police don't care for scum like you and me. For criminals. They won't care a bit when they find your stiff, mutilated corpse in some back alley, rotting like the garbage you are."

The man only groaned, wheezing.

Laken pulled away, glancing at the duffle bag on the ground a few feet from the man. A few speckles of red dotted it, but it was relatively unscathed. "Thanks for the cash, by the way. I'm sure your superiors won't mind, eh?" He grabbed the duffle, hefting it over his shoulder.

"They'll… stop you." The man closed his eyes, his breaths labored. "The police. The heroes."

Laken barked out a laugh. "You poor moron! Still clinging to childish dreams? There are no heroes here."

He plunged his heart into the man's heart and twisted it. He yanked it out, shook the blood from it, and shoved it into a sheath on his side.

And with that, he started down the dark alley, on his merry way.

(It's great! Mine might not be as long but I'll try and make it detailed enough anyway aha)

---

"Hey, London! I'm heading out for groceries! Stay out of trouble, will ya?" Paris called out over his shoulder as he spun his house keys around the index finger of one hand. His younger sister scoffed from the other room and called back. "I won't, dummy! And besides, I'm not even that little! I'm sixteen!" "That's plenty young!" "Yeah, yeah. Make sure you get milk, we're out." "Got it~!" Paris sighed softly and, with that, headed out the front door of his apartment.

He headed down the street, humming idly to himself with his eyelids lowered ever so slightly as he walked. On the way to the store, he heard the tail end of some altercation that sounded pretty nasty. Just in case, he took off his jacket, under which he had on his spandex top that he generally wore for heroing, and put on his mask.

After his jacket was off, he stepped into the alley and noticed a man's body. At the sight of all of the blood on the corpse, he felt a bit queasy and unsteady, but still stuck out one trembling hand to check for a pulse.

Too late… already dead.

He closed his eyes with a slight shudder, biting his lip and turning his head away before he opened them again. Upon opening them, he saw a tall man walking away with what appeared to be a dagger in his hand. He must have killed this guy… but why?

"Oi! You!" He called out. Although he figured he was probably supposed to be afraid in a situation like this, he rarely felt that way. He got a rush out of danger, enjoying the kick of adrenaline that coursed through his veins whenever he approached some enemy. "You can't just go around killing people, you know." He crossed his arms and stood his ground, ignoring the slight lingering dizziness from the man's blood. He could tell that the murderer was much taller than him, but he didn't particularly care.

Perfecto.

Laken paused mid-step, casting a lazy glance back over his shoulder at the poor fool who decided to speak to him. "I can't?" he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Mmm… I dunno." His eyes landed on the dead man, satisfaction pulling that smirk into a wicked smile. His white teeth and bright eyes stood out from his otherwise shadowed form, like some kind of evil Cheshire Cat in the night. "That guy seems to argue differently, don't you think?"

Paris scowled up at Laken, not looking afraid in the slightest. I recognize this guy… I've definitely seen him around before. On the news and stuff. "I bet you're feeling real confident since you get to hang out in this nice dark alley, huh? You love places like this, don't you?" He was growing angrier now, and small crackles of electricity traveled over his entire body, lighting up the area around him a bit. "I can change that. I can make you miserable. I can make this hell for you."

Laken let out a scoff and took a half-step back. "Oh, can you now?" His tone, previously playful and taunting, took on a darker weight. "Well, if you plan to make this Hell," He stepped backwards again until his back was practically against one of the brick walls, where the shadows were darkest; his form bled away into the blackness, vanishing as if he were only an illusion to begin with. Several yards behind Paris, he emerged from the night, his entire form darkened by shadows, except for that ungodly grin and his cat-like eyes. "I suppose I'll just have to return the favor."

Paris growled softly, trying to keep his eyes on Laken as well as he could with the taller man dipping in and out of the shadows. When Laken reappeared, Paris let his powers flare up, his entire body flashing brightly and rapidly. He lit up a large stretch of the alleyway so that there would be far less shadows that Laken could hide in. The bright light also made it rather difficult to see. "You can't hide from me, bastard!"

The light shattered the darkness like machine gun firing through a window. The average person would've been caught off guard, blinded momentarily, even— but Laken was not the average person.

Laken hissed out a few curse words and stumbled backwards as the world turned a burning white; spots of light danced across his vision, taunting him. He squeezed his eyes shut and the duffle bag he'd been hefting hit the ground with a dull thud. Even with being warned in advance, there was no way he could've prepared for such an attack without leaving altogether— light never worked in his favor— and now leaving wasn't an option. The shadows weren't dark enough; he could only teleport through the blackest ones.

Fine then. If the human sparkler wanted to change up the game, so be it.

"Who said anything about hiding?" Laken snarled, fingers tightening around the dagger in his hand. His other hand snapped to the gun on his belt and drew it out in a flash. He couldn't see— his frickin' eyes weren't even open— but that didn't stop him from firing several wild shots in the direction of his enemy's aggravating voice.

Paris darted forward to snatch the duffel bag, which considering its weight, he could only assume contained a pretty large quantity of cash. I'll have to turn it into the police… that's my job. I'm sure they wouldn't notice if a little bit was missing, though…- ow, what the hell?!

White hot pain coursed through Paris' shoulder and his breathing hitched as he screwed his eyes shut. The bright light weakened somewhat and he clutched at his shoulder with his free hand, glaring up at Laken. I suppose I should have expected him to play dirty, especially considering that I did as well.

He decided that it was time to use some actual electricity considering the circumstances. His body crackled for a few seconds, but then bolts of electricity shot out from his body towards Laken.

Laken fired off another random shot before the electricity made contact. His jaw tightened, entire body suddenly convulsing as volts of electricity surged through him. Everything went white, even whiter than it had been before— and everything burned. He fell forward onto the pavement, knees grinding into the asphalt as the rest of his body twitched and contorted. By the time the last bits of electricity left his system, he was lying on his side, gun still clutched tightly in a white-knuckled grip. His body was stiff, burning, aching. He grunted a little as he tried to push himself to his knees, though his eyes still hadn't had time to adjust, and moving was difficult. But he wasn't about to go down without a fight. He still had bullets left in his gun, if only he knew where to aim—

Paris adjusted his grip on the duffel bag, trying his best to hold it with only one hand since his other shoulder had been shot. He could feel blood trickling down his arm, and it made his heart race. He wasn't sure how long he could even stay conscious, much less continue putting up a fight against this guy. So, he figured that running to the police with the bag was his best bet. He turned to do so and found himself staggering and dizzy, but continued to try and walk forward anyway.

The sound of his footsteps was enough. Laken gritted his teeth and lifted his gun, hand trembling and twitching from the leftover electricity that still seemed to light his nerve endings on fire. He couldn't see anything; it was all a painful stinging white, bright lights burning across his vision. But he had to try. If he could just get a decent shot in.
"Die." Laken hissed between his teeth. He pulled the trigger once. Twice. Hand trembling, he pulled it a third time. The gun clicked, announcing that he'd ran out of chances.

Paris could faintly hear Laken lifting the gun and looked over his shoulder, pale and afraid. I have to keep running… he can probably hardly see, and it's difficult to hit a moving target. He kept going, dodging once, twice, and getting clipped by the third, which he wasn't expecting. He thought the gun only had two more bullets. He hissed through his teeth in pain and staggered, but forced himself forward. It'll be fine… he doesn't have any more ammo and it's too bright to slip into the shadows and attack…