#I truly think we would have gotten a better story if Miraculous only had three seasons to work with

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What are your opinions on more „popular“ salt takes about Adrien and Mari, like the typical „Adrichat is an ass for for flirting with LB after she rejects him“ and „Maribug us a horrible stalker“?

Well, I'd be lying if I said that I have no idea where they're coming from. There are definitely times when I'll watch an episode and wonder what in the world the writers are trying to do, especially when it comes to Adrien's behavior as it's played a lot more straight than Marinette's. While I don't like her behavior at times, it's almost always treated as a joke, not a dramatic character beat whereas I cannot say the same for Adrien.

But these are characters in a TV show, not real people and we need to keep that in mind when judging them. It's why my go-to thought is "what is wrong with the writing staff" and not "Adrien is an incel." Because Adrien is very clearly not supposed to be an incel. Unless the writers are plotting something truly asinine, the Love Square is our end game couple. We are supposed to view Adrien as a charming and funny romantic lead. When he falls short of that role, it's not Adrien "showing his true colors." He's a fictional character. He has no true colors. If his actions and words are ever unbecoming for a romantic lead, it's because the writers are failing to write Adrien the way they want us to see him.

They consistently do this to all of the characters. Alya's supposed to be an awesome friend and a smart journalist (I think), but she can't see through Lila's BS. Marinette's parents are supposed to be loving and supportive, but they randomly believed that their daughter stole from their bakery to make a dress and didn't even try to let her explain herself. Nino is supposed to be the Chosen of Protection, but he didn't care to protect his best friend and just happily sent Gabriel on a rampage without a second thought.

Give me a character and I can point to a bunch of episodes that justify every salty take this fandom has because they're not pulling this stuff from thin air. They're picking and choosing the worst writing in the show and venting about it, which is frankly understandable. Like I get why there are so many Alya salt fics. Her writing in the Lila episodes is infuriating and I do find those fics a little cathartic at times. But it's really, really obvious that she's not supposed to be a terrible friend. She's a victim of the writers drawing the Lila plot line out for far too long and making Lila's lies far too obvious.

Similarly, a lot of the issues with Adrien and Marinette stem from the fact that you simply can't draw a romance plot out for five seasons without causing issues unless you make the romance a background plot. But they didn't do that. The love square is front and center for most episodes, but since it can't actually resolve, the writers keep adding drama that makes our leads feel horribly unhealthy.

On the Marinette side, her not being able to talk to Adrien was fine as an initial issue, but we are five seasons into this show. Over 100 episodes! You reach a point where it stops being cute and starts being concerning. It's also not helped by the fact that Marinette's crush is written like a celebrity crush and not a crush on someone she actually knows. Daily exposure to Adrien should mellow her out. Especially since he's supposed to be her friend! But if the writers let Marinette talk to Adrien, then they'd grow closer and might feel like they had to get together, so they couldn't let that. Thus Marinette being a disaster for four seasons and the terrible shoehorned plot to try and justify it in season five.

On the Adrien side, they let Chat Noir confess too soon. Prior to that, the Ladynoir relationship was a playful one where it was feasible that Ladybug just viewed her kitty as a massive flirt. This was especially true since he flirts with everyone. But once she knew that he was serious? The playfulness vanished and Chat Noir started coming across as entitled and pushy. It didn't help that they had him ignoring her preferences ("Don't call me Bugaboo") and getting them in trouble by not taking his job seriously (his flirting getting them hit in Oblivio).

In summary, the love square should have been resolved much sooner or been relegated to a b plot that got far less attention. I also would have reversed the square since it makes for a far more interesting story that you can organically draw out longer, but that's just me. I don't have any issue with people ignoring the canon problems and just writing Adrien and Marinette as the cute couple that they were obviously intended to be. I also enjoy fics that treat Adrien's pushiness as a character flaw that can be resolved because that's what canon should have done. His issues aren't the mark of a terrible person. They're the understandable flaws of a teenager who is in love for the first time and doesn't know how to express himself. If a show would actually address this kind of common tween/teen issue, then a lot of kids would get an incredibly valuable lesson that would help them when they grow up and fall in love. If you're ever watching Miraculous with a kid, I strongly encourage you to approach Adrien's character from that perspective. Talk about why his actions are understandable, but ultimately wrong and more likely to push someone away than win their heart just like we see with Ladybug.

[kiss4noo]

my seatmate is the best man? – p.sh

꒰ 💒 ꒱ A PARK SUNGHOON [성훈] ONESHOT!

genre. fluffy fluffy fluff! .˚⊹ pairing. non-idol,,best man sunghoon x maid of honor fem reader. ໒꒱ warning(s). prepare to feel some embarrassment and see some sickeningly cute content. word ct. 1310

synopsis .ᐟ you just so happen to sit beside a handsome man on the plane when traveling to your best friend’s wedding destination– only to embarrass yourself by spilling some of your drink on him. however, what happens when you find out he’s the best man at said wedding– can you avoid him through the whole weekend? or does fate hold a different outcome?

꒰ 💬 ꒱ mi note. this idea came to me so suddenly, i had to get crafting. this is actually one of my favorites– and it of course includes a musical element. (play we are stars by the pierces for the full effect!) to my regulars, you probably think this’ll have more singing– but it’s just a dance scene.

if you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! it's always appreciated :)

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi. ‹𝟹

also! this one is dedicated to the sweet @pshbites who is so dear to my heart. please check out her smau as well, love on air!

this tale begins with a flight– a journey packed with clumsiness, brooding, and discovery. while this love story falls beneath the cliche archetype, within no means does it reflect the traditional style of romance.

and it all started with marriage, funny enough.

you see, your best friend, mariella, scheduled her wedding over the expanse of a three-day weekend. your flight was expected to land in verona, italy– her destination of choice– by 2pm on friday.

when you arrived at the airport, everything was running rather smoothly; despite the grumpy staff who glared as if you prevented them from enjoying their morning coffee. you’d succeeded in checking your luggage and proceeding through the extensive security, settled at your boarding gate before your flight.

and it seemed anxiety free, because once you’d boarded the plane, you’d found your assigned seat which happened to be an empty row– where you'd be sat beside the window.

it truly couldn’t have gotten any better… right?

oh, how wrong you were. any trip was bound to have a bump in the road– at least that’s what your gut screamed.

an incredibly handsome boy– that you would assume is your age– sat beside you, lost in his own world of headphones and music. through the hours of being in his presence, you’d sneak glances from your romance novel to admire his features.

and even if he did notice, he made no comment, content as the flight continued. however, when the flight approached its landing and everyone was discarding their garbage– your clumsiness appeared at the forefront.

the flight attendant approached your row, holding out a garbage bag with gentle hands, to which you attempted to reach over and dispose of your half-empty water cup. except, you’d lost your grip, the liquid splattering all over your cute seatmate’s hoodie, causing you to release a gasp.

“oh my gosh, i am so incredibly sorry–” you frantically apologize, glancing up at the boy, eyes wide with horror.

the male simply stared at you with crinkled eyes, a playful smile on his face. “it’s alright, no harm done here. it’s only water, it’ll dry.”

from that moment onward, throughout the twenty minutes it took for the plane to land and to exit the aircraft– you’d avoided glancing in his direction, even scooting to the far left of your seat.

and when you’d exited your flight? you immediately rushed to find your best friend who’d agreed to meet you at baggage claim, leaving the embarrassing experience behind you.

but, miraculously, you found yourself at mariella’s wedding rehearsal that same night, meeting the groomsmen for the first time. and to your surprise, the best man just happened to be him.

the same boy from the plane, your seatmate, and the one you’d spilled water all over.

he’d literally be your partner walking down the aisle, the one you lock arms with.

“well, shit.” you muttered under your breath at the sight of his pearly smile, proceeding to shake hands in greeting– to which you’d learned that his name is sunghoon.

even as rehearsal continued, you’d avoided him at all costs, outside of practicing the ceremony. it was dreadful to put simply, that your embarrassment would continue to follow you with every glance in his direction.

thankfully, nobody noticed– not mariella, not the groom, jake– and anybody else in the bride and groom’s respective parties.

it was now saturday, the day of the wedding. you’d completed the process of getting ready, assisting the other girls with their makeup and hair– each of you dolled up in mariella’s chosen color. pictures were taken for each party, the bride and groom, and any others that the couple requested.

the ceremony began early into the day, the process running as expected, effortless after the continual practice from the night before. despite the unease of being beside sunghoon, he kept you grounded, ensuring that no mistakes were made as he guided you down the aisle.

and as the ceremony concluded and led into the festivities of the reception, you chose to be alone. with no plus one, or much connection with the other guests.

despite the few words you’d shared with your best friend, it was her day, and you didn’t want to distract her from the joy of her union with your sulking.

you’d watched with a smile as the newly wedded couple shared their first dance, overjoyed to see mariella have her happy ending.

even throughout your speech, dinner, and the disperse of their cake– you’d lingered at your assigned seat, fiddling with your fingers.

with music playing in the background, guests began to crowd the dance floor, freely congratulating and celebrating with the bride and groom, smiles and laughter throughout the hall.

and as a slow song played, a figure kneeled in front of you– your eyes trailing to meet his.

“hey, pretty girl.” sunghoon greets with the softest voice, extending his hand. “come dance with me.” he invites, waiting for you to place your palm in his.

with a soft sigh, you stare up at him with unease, biting the inside of your cheek.

“okay.” you agree, placing your palm in his– allowing him anchorage to tug you gently from your seat.

“we are stars,” the music hums in the background as he guides you onto the dancefloor, hands finding a secure place on your waist.

“relax, sweetheart.” he mutters, only loud enough for you to hear, urging you to stand beneath the shadow of his towering frame.

“fashioned in the flesh and bone, we are islands,” the music envelopes you and sunghoon, granting a bubble of privacy.

“you’re beautiful.” he praises, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

“thank you.” you whisper, staring up into his dark orbs, captured in a dance of longing and discovery.

“excuses to remain alone, we are moons,” swaying with one another, you avert your gaze for a moment before returning it to him.

“y/n.” he calls, raising a hand to capture your chin between the pad of his thumb and knuckle of his forefinger.

“yes?” you question slowly, entranced by his sharp features and moles littered across his skin. 

“throw ourselves around each other, we are oceans,” he admires you for a brief pause, his expression softening.

“you spilling water on me was an accident.” sunghoon firmly mutters, as if trying to convince you.

“i..” you try to speak, only to be cut off by his next words– in which you release a sigh.

“it doesn’t need to be carried with us.” he finishes, dipping his head to lean closer to you.

“being controlled by the pull of another,”

“and i, just wanna be loved by you,”

“your clumsiness doesn’t harm me, in fact, it only made me want to be closer to you.” sunghoon admits, his lips brushing against your forehead in a quick kiss.

“give me a chance, pretty girl.” he retracts from your skin, causing you to stare up at him.

“yeah i, just wanna be loved by you,”

“okay.” you agree, nodding your head in a visual display of your consent. “i’d like that.” you admit in a gentle voice, hands moving from his chest to wrap around his neck.

“i see nothing worse than to sail this universe without you,” the music fades, your movements not once faltering as sunghoon leans in to press his lips to yours.

“we’ll change our seats for the next flight. i can’t have you sit beside another man and spill water on him.” he teases, his lips brushing against yours in a playful dance.

“oh, definitely. there’s nobody else i’d rather spill water on anyway.” you respond in taunt, your laughter meshing into one as you share a sweet kiss, comfortable in each other’s arms.

and with that, your embarrassment was left behind– your clumsiness leading your boyfriend straight to your heart.

꒰ 📎 ꒱ taglist. @greentulip @nshmuras @wonsdoll @pshbites

how to be added to my taglist : click here!

[lady-literature]

ayy, so ya’ll know that Miraculous/DC crossover I screamed about a while back? I found plot for it.

It is not quite finished yet, but it’s also so much longer than I originally planned on it being. (me: I’ll just write a fun little thing to get this out of my head!

me, 13k words later: oh no)

SO! Here’s a little sneak peak!

(or, find the finished product here!)

***

There is an unspoken rule, kept by any outsider who’s ever set foot in Gotham, that you should only ever visit the city once. Most find that visiting even once was already too much.

The most dangerous city on earth isn’t kind to its residents—much less strangers who don’t know how to watch their pockets or keep off the streets after dark. It’s gotten better, perhaps, in recent years since the Bat started lurking on rooftops, but that doesn’t mean the city is good.

Normal people stay as far from Gotham as they can get.

Marinette, (un)luckily, is far from normal.

***

The touring of Metropolis, New York City, and Gotham had been going well as far as Marinette was concerned, no matter what Chloé says to her about carelessness and naivety.

She’s glad her, Adrien and Chloé all decided to take this summer trip before they started University in the fall. It sucks that it was just the three of them, she wishes more of their friends could’ve tagged along but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

Kagami was in the middle of training season and couldn’t come. Luka was touring with his father, learning the tricks of the trade and other things. Nathaniel had already been commissioned to paint a mural downtown before they really finalized dates. Nino was in much the same boat as Nath, just with music and pitch meetings. Felix hated traveling and Alix was doing… something. Time travelling, probably. Or at least spending more time in the burrow.

Marinette was certainly starting to notice the way she’s begun talking about ancient history like she was actually there when she goes on rants now. Felix also probably noticed but Marinette’s also sure that he’s aiding and abetting her in exchange for insider information so…

She’ll probably have to deal with that later, unfortunately. But not today.

Their tour group was going to Amusement Mile later that afternoon, but had been given free roam until then. Marinette decided to spend the time up until lunch at the park near the meetup spot in Gotham Square and Chloé hadn’t complained or vetoed that idea so the trio happily camped out on the grass.

Marinette had returned to her sketch of Lady Gotham in between eating bites of her sandwich. She thinks she much preferred the style of it to New York City’s Lady Liberty. There was just something about the Statue of Justice that inspired her.

She’d been doodling about it since they left the marina yesterday. She also had plenty of pictures of the statue for inspiration later. There’s one she especially likes and thinks she might even print out to put up on her wall at home.

She’s playing with the idea of draping fabrics for formal wear designs like the roman togas both Lady statues seem to wear when a tennis ball rolls up and bumps into her leg. She has only enough time to move her sketchbook out of the way before a large dog bowls into her, tail wagging happily and barking up a storm.

“Oof!”

Adrien’s already halfway up the tree, startled out of his light doze by the barking and Chloé only daintily moved away from Marinette, leaving her to her fate. 

Pushing herself back up so she’s not crushed by what feels like one hundred pounds of dog, she comes face to snout with quite possibly the biggest dog she’s ever seen. From there, there was really only one choice of action Marinette could have followed.

“Oh! Well, aren’t you just the prettiest boy?” she tells the dog happily, reaching up to give him scratches. “Such a big boy! You nearly bowled me over, didn’t you?”

If it’s possible, the dog’s tail begins to wag even faster, enough that he accidentally overbalances himself and decides to roll with it, flopping onto his back and letting her rub his stomach. Marinette does so enthusiastically, her baby-talk to the dog devolving into broken not-words and the occasional exclamation of good boy! in both English and French.

The dog was a great dane, and had the softest coat of black fur she’s ever seen. There was a thick red collar around his throat, and Marinette stopped furiously rubbing his belly long enough to look at the silver tag attached to it.

“Titus, huh?” she says to the dog. “Such a strong name for such a distinguished boy, huh?”

“Oh god,” she hears Adrien groan from his spot still up in the tree. When she looks up, she finds him eyeing Titus with distrust, the absolute kitten. “I hope whoever his owner is, they’ve never read Shakespeare.”

Both her and Chloé blink at the strange non sequitur.

“Uh, why? Exactly?”

“Because they have shit taste in his plays if they do! Titus Andronicus is, like, Shakespeare’s worst play.”

Chloé glares up at him. “You’re such a nerd. Now stop being ridiculous and get down from there.”

“But, Chloé! It’s a dog.”

“Adrien Agreste!”

Marinette tunes out the two blondes as they devolve into sibling-like bickering. It’s a skill she’s had to learn and learn quickly with living in such close quarters with the pair for the last few weeks and also being friends with the pair for the past three years.

“Speaking of your owner, I wonder where they are?” She scratches under Titus’ chin thoughtfully. “Should we go look for them?”

Titus' head flops to the side, almost like he’s listening for something, before he’s clambering up onto his feet to tower over her. He’s almost twice as tall as she is sitting, which is just ridiculous. Why is everything in America so big?

Getting to her feet herself, Titus still stands almost as tall as her. She can rest her elbow on his back when she grabs his collar to make sure he doesn’t run off. He leads mostly, pulling her along at a steady trot she has to jog to keep up with.

He truly was such a well behaved dog and certainly lived up to his breed’s reputation as a gentle giant.

Or at least she thought so, until the call of “Titus! Here!” echoes through the park and he goes racing off towards it, dragging Marinette along for the ride no matter how much she tries to slow down.

Titus comes to a skidding stop, and Marinette barely stops herself from falling by keeping her arm around Titus.

“And who are you?”

Looking up, she finds a young man, probably around her age, staring down at her. He does not look happy—but most Gothamites don’t, Marinette’s found. He’s also, despite the almost glare he’s giving her, very attractive.

When she opens her mouth, incoherent French comes tumbling out, much to her embarrassment.

Ah. ‘Not being able to speak coherently to people she finds attractive’, she had wondered where that particular personality trait had been as of late. Even after so many years hanging around people who should be—and are—super models, she still acts like a spaz. Why is she like this?

The man raises an eyebrow at her, looking very unamused.

She tries again. “Ah- Je suis- I mean, I am very sorry. Your dog found me sitting over there with my friends and I figured I should find his owner instead of letting him just wander around and I assume your his owner because if you aren’t this is very embarrassing for me. Not that it wasn’t embarrassing before but, oh, I’m definitely rambling and I’m going to shut up now.”

Pressing her lips together as tightly as humanly possible so her tongue will stop making horrible life decisions, she holds Titus’ bright yellow tennis ball out to his owner.

The man huffs, taking the ball from her hand. “I didn’t ask for your life’s story.”

Marinette blinks and then frowns. Her hand tightens around where she’s still holding onto Titus’ collar and she has to very carefully unclench her hand before she breaks it or something.

“I didn’t give it,” she says through clenched teeth, embarrassment abruptly forgotten. There’s no need for the man to be rude.

He scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She doesn't really have anything to say to that. Instead, she turns to Titus, who’s sitting like the good boy he is. She very seriously leans down to eye level—she does not have to lean down far—and tells him, “Your owner is an ass. But you are still a very good boy.”

She plants a kiss to his forehead that makes his tail wag, gives him one last scratch behind the ears and walks back towards her friends without looking back at the rude man. 

***

Colonel Bug: so I met kagami and felix’s lovechild today

MY HONOR: I would never stoop so low.

the evil twin: I would never stoop so low.

ShutUpTurtleMan: Nettie

dearest

the evil twin: Okay first of all-

ShutUpTurtleMan: sunshine

light of our collective lives and reason I breathe

what the fuCK

YoureUnderAgreste: Kagami, my love, how could you?

The Betrayal™

GottaGoFast: ew

Queen of Salt: ew

sneaky snake: Send pics or it didn’t happen

give me art or give me death: [a photo of the ‘right in front of my salad?’ meme]

Queen of Salt: wait

I was with you all day when did this happen?

was it the owner of the dog that attacked you?

ShutUpTurtleMan: WHAT

Colonel Bug: he didn’t attack me!

chloe stop spreading misinformation!

titus was a sweetheart!

YoureUnderAgreste: incorrect

he was, in fact, a menace

give me art or give me death: wait was Titus the dog or the lovechild

ShutUpTurtleMan: ^^^ ?

Colonel Bug: shut up adrien

all animals are great

stop being elitist

give me art or give me death: okay but seriously what kind of dog was it

the evil twin: why exactly was he our lovechild?

GottaGoFast: because of the dramatic tryst you and Kagami had obviously

keep up

Colonel Bug: because he was as pretty as he was rude actually

And gave me the feeling that he’d rant about his honor and parentage if it given the chance

MY HONOR: you say something once as an unsocialized teen

GottaGoFast: MARI YOU DOG!

ARE GETTING TAIL IN GOTHAM OF ALL PLACES?

Colonel Bug: no alix

did you not read the part about how rude he is

YoureUnderAgreste: i mean,,,,,

Felix is pretty rude and we all still like him

ShutUpTurtleMan: and Chloe

YoureUnderAgreste: oh good point nino

Colonel Bug: i hate it here

i spoke to him for like 2 seconds

Queen of Salt: Okay first of all-

YoureUnderAgreste: so i mean it’s not really a dealbreaker yaknow?

Colonel Bug: this familys a nightmare

i shoulda left you all on the street corner where i found you

YoureUnderAgreste: BUT CHA DINDT

ShutUpTurtleMan: but yA DIDNT

GottaGoFast: BUT CHA DIDNT!!

sneaky snake: but ya didn’t

***

I have every no regrets. stay tuned for more!

[concernedbrownbread]

Garbage Boy

For @adrienaugust Day 5: Cheese

In which Adrien and Plagg work at a Fromagerie, like they dreamed of in Wishmaker. But it's been years since Hawkmoth's defeat, and they're just trying to get by.

Words: 1123

Warning: I know nothing of cheese. Also, heavily inspired by Ratatoullie. Don't worry, this is fluff, the angst is in the background.

Read here or under the cut

---

“You know,” Plagg drawled, “When I said I wanted to work at a Fromagerie, this isn’t what I meant, garbage boy.”

“I’m just cleaning, not collecting garbage.” Adrien sighed, leaning against the mop, “And I know Plagg. But we can’t exactly buy a Fromagerie with no money to our name.”

“What a statement, huh.”

Adrien hummed in agreement. Three years after Hawkmoth’s defeat - after his reveal as Gabriel Agreste - and Adrien had used up pretty much any money that he’d managed to salvage after the company went bankrupt. His Dad tried to help, of course, but after Gabriel, the Gorilla had a hard time finding work too.

So, here was Adrien Agreste, once a model, now a full-time garbage boy. He wasn’t even Chat Noir part time anymore.

Technically, Plagg wasn’t even supposed to be here. But - well, they may have just made a run for it, after everything, and he certainly wasn’t looking back anymore than Plagg was. He felt guilty sometimes, about turning his back on Ladybug after the whole Hawkmoth ordeal, but she asked him to give up the one thing he had left - Plagg. So it really was just running from there.

“You’re moping.”

“Mopping,” Adrien corrected, gesturing to his mop.

“Har, har. But I can hear you think, kit.”

“Sorry.”

Plagg gave him a stern look, “Don’t be. What were you even thinking of?”

“The past,” he hesitated, “And the present. This isn’t what I imagined for us.”

They looked around the room, filled with cheese they couldn’t touch, finishing up the last bit of cleaning before opening hour. It was the biggest, best Fromagerie in Paris, and he’d only really gotten in thanks to Chloe pulling strings.

“Whatever kit. I like it. Smelling cheese all day!”

“I can’t even afford you camembert anymore,” Adrien pointed out.

Plagg shrugged, “Cheese is cheese. American isn’t so bad!”

To prove his point, he pulled out a square slice of yellow from Adrien’s pocket, pulling off the plastic and folding it into his mouth.

“See? It’s fine.”

With great amusement, Adrien watched Plagg gag.

“Still getting used to the … non-cheese aspects of it.”

Adrien was about to promise Plagg some camembert using his first paycheck - for old time’s sake - when the door burst open.

“You!” Alfredo, the store owner, said, “Who’re you?”

“Um … I clean?”

“Fine, whatever, listen,” Alfredo grabbed Adrien by the shoulders, ignoring his flinch, “Do you know cheese?”

“I - I guess?”

“Can you sell them?”

“Yes?”

“The other girl isn’t coming in today - what’s her name?” Alfredo clicked his finger, “Charlotte - “

“Colette - “

“Her. I need you to fill in. Very important people are coming in today.”

Adrien stammered, “S - sir, I don’t think - “

The bell on the door dinged, signifying customers. Alfredo’s eyes widened, “No time, no time. Just - just get out there.”

He grabbed Adrien’s mop, put him in an apron and pushed him out into the front. He froze, like a cat caught in car lights.

“Hm,” the man hummed, “You are?”

“Uh - Adrien? Adrien Agreste.”

The man’s beady eyes widened momentarily, face twitching into something incomprehensible before it settled back into an impassive stare.

“Gabriel Agreste’s son, working in a Fromagerie. Why I never.”

“You never … what?”

“Hm,” the man gave him a onceover, “My name is Antoine. I’m a food critic and it has come to my attention that the credibility of this shop is years out of date. So. I’m here to inquire about your cheese.”

A food what now?

Adrien didn’t know the first thing about cheese, except for the fact that Plagg liked it. What was he supposed to -

“Follow my lead,” Plagg hissed from beside Adrien’s ear.

After Hawkmoth, Adrien had grown out his hair to try and feel closer to Chat Noir. It only served to make people throw more slurs at him on the street, but for once - well, he was glad. He was never cutting it again.

“Well,” Adrien said, repeating Plagg’s words, “If you’d come right this way.”

Adrien was going to cry. Or maybe laugh. Or maybe -

“Garbage boy!”

“I’m a cleaner actually - “

Alfredo waved his hand dismissively, “I must say, I’m impressed!” he leaned in, “Was any of what you said true?”

“Most of it,” Plagg whispered, which Adrien repeated.

Alfredo laughed, “You’re off cleaning duty, garbage boy. From now on, you can work the front. Heavens know Catherine needs to know the meaning of hard work - “

“Charlotte - nevermind.”

Adrien watched Alfredo walk away, utterly bemused.

“This was a weird day.”

“We’re going places, kit!” Plagg said, laughing, “Did you see that guy’s face when we talked about the bryndza’s brine?”

“I didn’t see him react.”

“Oh humans, so blind. He was clearly peeing his pants.”

Adrien nodded in agreement, “Yes. Clearly.”

“This is perfect. Like in that movie with the cooking! You’re Linguini!”

“And you’re Remy the rat.”

“I’m no rat, Adrien, I’m insulted!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Adrien grinned, “Then I refuse to be Linguini.”

Plagg laughed, and Adrien didn’t remember the last time he had seen the Kwami laugh, “This is going to be better than Ratatouille.”

Life wasn’t easy for them anymore. Hawkmoth’s capture for them spelt a boy falling out of public grace, ridiculed and left without his inheritance. The Agreste wealth, the Gabriel fortune, everything he had had been forced out of his hand, through guilt and stupid decisions of his own. His friends had been help, but Natalie went back home sick and frail, and the only adult he had truly been able to rely on was the Gorilla - Gregory.

High school was a chore, but his grades in physics landed him in university. Until he dropped out, and made a long series of stupid decisions, before ending up in therapy and being forced to do something with his life.

Some days, he thought about that night. The night Ladybug was finally ready to reveal herself, after months of pushing him aside. The night when Ladybug looked like the weight of the world had lifted off her shoulders, when Adrien’s world had just crashed down.

The night when Ladybug, sweet Ladybug, kind Ladybug, had hugged him tight, “I’ll love you, whoever you are. It’s time to give up our Miraculous'”

And the night Adrien pushed her away, and ran, because he wasn’t losing Plagg, come hell or high water.

“Do you think I made the right choice?” Adrien would ask Plagg sometimes.

And the kwami could put his paw on Adrien’s cheek, “For every choice you make in which we stay together, is the right one.”

Adrien watched Plagg float in and out of shadows, still talking about his cheese, and felt the world come into clarity.

Plagg had been right. He had made the right choice.

---

Author's Note: This one was SO much fun to write, I'm tempted to write a whole story of Adrien and Plagg just outrunning Ladybug, trying to go from paycheck to paycheck, and learning to deal with the trauma that is Gabriel. They are such an awesome duo.

Also, I apologise for knowing literally nothing about cheese and fromageries.

[vampiresuns]

This Is How We Say Goodbye (Song To The Open Road) | Asra x Milenko

☽ THIS IS HOW WE SAY GOODBYE (SONG TO THE OPEN ROAD) ☽

1.9k words. Written for Asra Week, day 6: Promise. In which the Plague ravages Vesuvia, there’s an argument and Asra and Milenko part ways.

You can catch up with Milasra’s pre-game canon, ‘Like Thirst Holds Water’, here.

When Anatole and Milenko got involved, Asra and Amparo were already fighting. 

Their relationship had always been peculiar. More than friends, they were sometimes mirrors, matchstick and friction, cause and reaction. While Milenko was the one Asra had fallen in love with, and Anatole the one who he rode and died for, Amparo tended to spring Asra into motion. Both of them did things in almost identical ways — Asra’s sun sign was Amparo’s moon sign, her rising sign, his moon. As such, they gave the idea of instant compenetration, of unspoken frequencies vibrating in the same way. 

Amparo, the animancer, the actress, the dancer, the impersonator imbued in Asra something the others could not quite describe. That was Amparo’s charm, after all, that pizzaz that made her no one other than La Cassano. 

In that way, they shouldn’t have been surprised they would butt heads this way. They shouldn’t have been surprised that nothing could deescalate the fight either. Everyone was tired, everyone was grieving. The City was ridden with the Plague, there were no answers and no solutions offered, and for the first time in the almost 20 years Lucio had ruled the inevitable had happened: the Council of Vesuvia wasn’t enough, and now it was too late for them to remove Lucio from power by declaring him unfit to rule. The mechanisms would not work, the tissue of the Court was almost entirely destroyed, and the people were ill and needed food, clean water and doctors.

Their families had decided to all ride this out together in the Palazzo, with the proper health regulations that they could adopt. The building could house them all without problem but more importantly, it would mean they would be together. Many things were said about them, like how nothing mortal could kill them, based on an old, old story of how the Consul’s office had become theirs. It was no less true that the Radošević-Cassano did not survive alone. 

So they grouped, they went back home, and with their location inside the walls of the infamous Palazzo Cassano, they took in their closest friends. Their families had begun as friends, marrying between each other was recent, and only a kink of some very specific sets of family members. To them, family wasn’t blood, family was a choice. 

They had asked Asra to move in with them, and with that, to relocate Muriel, no one had to know he was in the Palazzo with them, specially not the Count. Asra, however, wanted to leave, and he wanted to convince Amparo, Anatole and Milenko to go with him, so they all would take their stuff and go, and abandon Vesuvia — a City that had never done anything for any of them. There was no point in dying in it, let alone for it. 

Naturally, the proposal turned into an argument. Amparo especially would not leave her mother and parent, Amparo would not leave Anzano, their grandparent, as she knew they would not leave Vesuvia. Anzano was old, very old, but still fit for travel; however, they had once been the High Priest of the Sun and had trained the new one, just like their spouse Atilia Cassano, had been the High Priest of the Moon. They wouldn’t leave a City they felt a sense of responsibility towards, and Amparo herself would not desert her family when they needed her.

Milenko had a similar idea. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave when he could help, he couldn’t leave when his mothers would not go, when his grandfather would not go, when his cousins would not go. Unlike Amparo he had no will to argue with Asra, instead, with the help of Anatole they tried to calm it down, so Asra could see where they were coming from, and they could try and answer Asra’s concerns.

It didn’t work. Everyone was strung, stressed and grieving, so it was a matter of time before one of them said the wrong thing, at the wrong time, with whoever the comment had been directed at not wanting to be understanding about it. It was a matter of time before they were all arguing in the ground floor of the Moonstone and Jasmine, all of Asra’s things packed up as he said he was not staying to die in a City like Vesuvia and how anyone with half a mind would do the same. 

Milenko saw the point of no return happen in slow motion: Asra’s words collided with nothing other than the behemoth that was the Cassano’s sense of pride. Whatever they had begun, it could not be stopped now. 

A lot of accusations flew around. Amparo tried to tell Asra that he couldn’t just expect her to leave the City she had always lived in, the City that she hoped to die in at old age. Asra told her what did she know about losing homes, she who had been born in the Heart District with a silver spoon on her mouth, who had never had to struggle because she always had a roof above her head. Funnily enough, Amparo’s patience ran out when he told her that she couldn’t even cook for herself. 

“Do whatever you want. I’m not leaving. If that’s all you think of me, then forget we were ever friends Asra.” 

She disappeared into the upstairs of the shop, into its main living quarters. 

“Asra, that’s not fair,” Milenko said. His tone was critical, but he still tried to stay as calm as possible. Maybe if Asra could see that he really would be safe—

Then Anatole spoke, his anger raw, yet cold and precise, like a well practiced fencing blow: “What the fuck is wrong with you. If we were a bunch of superior assholes who did everything for our own benefit—”

Asra snapped. “No, but you sure think you’ll save Vesuvia from Lucio just from existing, as if anyone in this city would ever care if you lived or died, Anatole. That’s what you do, don’t you? Pretend like you can fix his mistakes while everyone else suffers from them.”

The silence that fell between the three of them was abrupt, soon ringing in their ears, but when Asra tried to apologise, noticing he had said the wrong thing, it was too late. 

Anatole looked like he had been slapped.

“Toly?” Milenko asked, moving closer to his cousin to squeeze his shoulder, wanting to make sure he was okay. Asra’s words had hit one of Anatole’s greatest fears: that no matter how hard he tried, it’d never be enough. 

Before he could reach Anatole, his cousin’s face changed. As his features shifted with anger, Anatole spoke again. 

Now he was truly and really angry. “You meant that.” 

The issue with words was you couldn’t take them back once you said them. All you could do is hope the other person would forgive you and understand if you had misspoken. As Milenko was once again caught between Asra and Anatole arguing, he realised this was one thing Anatole might never forgive. He doubted it was his place to say, yet Milenko didn’t know if he could even advocate for Anatole forgiving Asra’s words, with time.

The issue wasn’t about who was right or wrong. There was no right or wrong, there was no miraculous answer in this unsalvageable situation. It was that Asra had meant it. Part of Anatole’s language magic was this: he was able to read feelings and intentions in spoken words. As a language manipulator, he could tell everything which people (intentionally or otherwise) imbued into words when they spoke, even if he couldn’t tell the why or the how. 

Would he be able to carry on if he could feel that after years of showing honesty and vulnerability because you want the other person to know you, this was what they thought at their worst? 

The argument didn’t last much longer. Anatole, not wanting to speak, went upstairs to check on Amparo, while Milenko and Asra stood alone on the ground floor of the shop. 

The magician began taking his things, preparing himself to leave for real. Milenko followed him, standing outside of the backdoor as he looked at Asra adjusting his travelling coat. Amparo has gotten it for him. It was handmade, Amparo’s gift to Asra two birthdays ago. 

“Aren’t you going to say farewell?” 

Asra startled, not expecting Milenko standing there. “I thought there was nothing else to say.” 

Once again they stood in silence. It felt like forever, even if it was probably just a couple of seconds. They were aware of every moment they lost to silence, looking at each other under the Vesuvian sunset. They felt far away, miles away. 

It hurt to realise, more than Milenko was willing to admit, but Anatole had been right: he still remembered when they were arguing about Asra not asking for help about Muriel. They could be as open as they wanted with Asra, but Asra would never step in time with them, even if he wanted to. 

Who better than Milenko to know this, and to know that sometimes, it was through no fault of his own. 

Asra spoke first. “You think I’m making the wrong choice.” 

Milenko pressed his lips together. “I don’t think there’s a right choice. There’s just the best we can do with the options we’re given.” 

“You don’t think I could do better with mine?”

“I don’t know, beloved, could you?” 

“Don’t— don’t call me that.” 

“I’m sorry. Force of habit.” 

“I forgive you,” Asra said, shifting his weight between his feet. He wanted to say something else, yet he said nothing. 

“Asra. I’m not judging you. I already told you I am no one to judge.” 

“How can you say that to me at a time like this?” 

“What? It’s the truth. I don’t like that you’re leaving and I would never make the choices you are making, and I could give you a piece of my mind and point fingers at you. I am angry, I’m hurt, but nothing I accuse you of will make me feel better. Judging you will not make me feel better, so I won’t. I’ve never done.” 

“Sometimes,” Asra said, dislodging his travel bag from his shoulder, “sometimes I wish you did. It would make leaving easier.” 

To Milenko’s surprise, Asra crossed the distance between them. Milenko didn’t stop his hand from cupping Asra’s cheek. Asra leaned against it, even if he wished he hadn’t. Asra closed his eyes, tears coming through his closed eyelids.

“You know I won’t ask you to stay,” Milenko said, getting teary himself. 

“Just like I know I won’t get you to leave.” 

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, Asra. Promise me that at the very least, you’ll try to take good care of yourself.” 

Asra opened his eyes, his vision blurred because of the tears. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, letting Faust slither into his arm to stretch herself all the way to say goodbye to Milenko.

Her tongue flicked against his nose, making Asra smile. 

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself too, please.”

Milenko nodded, Asra saying his farewells before turning around and walking away as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Milenko watched him go, until Ursula, his familiar, nudged him inside. 

“May Allah keep you safe, Habibi,” he said to the empty street before closing the door behind him. 

[adiabolikpastel]

Title: Lunar Eclipse Masquerade

Reiji pt. 2

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2,409

Pairing: Reiji x ? (m/f)

ღ Reiji finds himself attending this Masquerade alone, despite somehow miraculously getting all his brothers to make an appearance. The effects of the moon fuel is longing for the one he loves, but a nice distraction can solve all that. ღ

Mun Yu: We made it to the second wave of LEM. I hope you all enjoyed the set up, and are ready for the main event. Our Lunar Eclipse is in full swing as the masquerade beings. These chapters will be longer.

Additionally: I would love to thank @dialovers-translations for translating the Shu and Reiji versus CD which show cased them during the Lunar Eclipse. It helped me greatly to write his personality.

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ ﾟ ｡. +ﾟ ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

Despite what most people think, demonic beings are very social creatures. The elites hold countless balls and parties, celebrating their immortality together, and entertaining one another with stories. Typically, they are done in celebration for something – though this is not always the case. All types of beings from across the Demon Realm will come if the host is of high enough prestige.

There would be no such host if it was not for Karlheinz. Seated as the head of the Bat Clan (vampires), Karl’s reach spans far. Being the widow for the former Demon King’s daughter, and having children of the first blood, an invitation from the Vampire King is not one to refuse. Though why would you? In his immaculate castle within the Demon Realm, Eden Castle, it is always quite the spectacle. While the celebrations held in his Human World mansion are nice, nothing compares to a true night of pleasure within the true home of the King.

On this night, there was to be a Masquerade in honor of the first Lunar Eclipsed Moon in over two years. While this night may serve each species differently, the idea to celebrate its return was simply too tempting. For this reason, Karlheinz took it upon himself – or rather – his house, to host the event. This extended to his offspring as well, regardless of their personal agenda. Members of every social elite race accepted the offer, and gathered for a truly unforgettable evening.

The past week had been hell. Getting a hold of all his siblings was no easy task, now that most of them no longer lived in the family mason. Contacting Shu was simple enough, as the two of them were closer now. It was strange. Most of his life, Reiji had hated Shu. Not that there weren’t thing that still made him crazy about his brother. However, they now had a common goal – one that Shu was actually willing to help with.

He was honestly surprised his elder brother agreed to the task. Ever since Reiji learned the true purpose of the Adam and Eve project their father was slaving away over, he knew that there would only be Shu who could actually take his place. Not for anything lacking in himself, of course. Between the two of them, Reiji was clearly a better suited ruler. It was for the simple fact that Shu would be unable to make a true connection like the rest of them.

In order for Karl’s project to work, truly work, his sons – or Adam – must become connected with a human. To adapt their emotions, and breed in order to make a new form of being. Once that was achieved, it was then up to that chosen son to defeat their father. Obviously, there were a good number of them who fit the first piece of that criteria. However, there was an overwhelming lack of interest in the second. While none of the triplets had interest in taking over the position of their father, Subaru also showed little interest.

Which left Reiji and Shu, the two eldest of the sons, to fulfill this plan of their father’s. While Reiji had always wanted to rule after their father, he was not sure that he could actually defeat him. Nor did he want to. His admiration for is father was too great to ever actually defeat him. Which only left Shu, and while Reiji did not want to admit that he would need the assistance of his loathed brother- there was no other option.

Strangely enough, when Reiji had talked to Shu about it, he wasn’t opposed to the idea. Seemed he deserved more credit than Reiji had every given. All that to say now, the two brothers were slowly growing closer – and Reiji was actually starting to enjoy his brother. It was at first disturbing – but the two of them were much more alike than Reiji had ever thought. The two had gotten so close in fact, they were able to connect with one another through the magic they’d been practicing in the Makai. Now all the two of them had to do was concentrate on the other, and a telepathic bound would be formed for communication.

With Shu contacted, next he would need to track down Laito and Ayato. It took a few days, but eventually the familiars were able to locate the middle children. Ayato was annoyed, but he and Yuko accepted the invitation. Laito was worse, since he had intended to cut off ties to the family. Reiji had warned him that it was no possible, and that if he did not attend this event, their father would find him. Which only left Subaru and Kanato. Those two Reiji decided to tell the night before, that way they could not refuse the invitation.

The only person he could not convince to come, was Rika, much to his dismay. She apparently had a thesis paper to work on, and experiments that couldn’t be left unattended. While this upset him, there was not much he could do about it. Such a change in personality for him, to actually allow a human to deny him. The thought alone made him want to call her again, demand her presence, or take her by force. However, he was much more attracted to the fact that Rika had goals as she did. She was driven, smart, proper, sexy, honestly – there was nothing he would change about her. He would simply go to the event alone.

With is brothers taken care of, Reiji went on ahead to Eden Castle, to assist his father in any preparations. When he arrived, he was surprised to find Skye commanding the familiars in his place. Reiji wasn’t the biggest fan of Skye – mostly because he felt uneasy that a male dressed the way Skye did. It was already unpleasant when Laito would force his human stalker to do as such – but to see someone else do it – in his father’s home no less – was simply unnerving. With Skye, Reiji never knew how to address him – though the siren never corrected him if he were wrong.

The two of them were effortlessly able to prepare the castle for guest, and the night of the Lunar Eclipse arrived in grand fashion. Karlheinz had not skipped any member of the Makai’s social elite. The Snake Clan, Eagle Clan, Wolf Clan; and a few of their sub families – not to mention sub families of the Bat Clan as well. Reiji was surprised at how many guest could fit into the Castle, then again, it was magic – no doubt that played a hand in helping.

Reiji proudly stood to greet guest as they arrived. This brothers all came in their own time, and even for a while Shu stood with him. Although it did not last, as Shu was apparently doing enough by being present. Reiji could all ready see a future of him taking on a lot of Shu’s duties once their plan had come to completion. Once a great number of guest had arrived, Karlheinz himself finally made an appearance. Although, it was in rather poor taste.

Growing up, Karlheinz never formally came into an event with any of his brides. This was, at least to Reiji’s understanding, out of respect – or even a lack there of- for each of them. It would be unwise to come in with all three of them, less he look like a glutton. However, he couldn’t very well come in with just one of them, as it would show favorite and a neglect of the other two. As Reiji got older he also believed that there was hidden malice in what his father did, though he also understood that ground rules must be set for behavior.

On this night, however, the Vampire King arrived with a woman on his arm. She was stunning, however, Reiji had the sinking suspicion as to who she was. If that were the case, then his father had indeed lost his mind. Not only was this woman not his wife, but if she were even his current lover – the thought made Reiji shiver. Perhaps in his old age, his father had begun to lose his mind. In any case, it was not his place to comment on the two of them. Though it did make him annoyed, as the thought of how his mother had always stood off to the side whenever the great Karlheinz made an appearance, yet this ‘woman’ was on his arm now.

Putting it out of mind, Reiji tasked himself with ensuring the night could go over smoothly. With it being a Lunar Eclipse, things were bound to get dicey. He even felt himself growing aggravated that he was unable to be with Rika, especially when seeing Ayato and Yuko. How he longed to hold her in his arm, parade her on the dance floor like the jewel she was. Not to mention the thirst for her blood was reaching its limit. How long had it been since he had last fed from her?

The moons forces seemed stronger this night, in this place. Deciding to clear his mind, Reiji walked out onto the ballrooms balcony. The night’s air was soothing, though the moon was in full view. Deep red in color, it seemed to dominate the night’s sky. As he walked over to the railing, he noticed someone else outside as well.

She looked to be about his age, though with demon’s one can never be certain. Her head was bowed and hands clasped, as if she were praying. That wasn’t a sight one saw often in this realm. Reiji’s curiosity was peeked. This woman stood to just about his shoulder level, and had long hair – which was tied back- but one could tell it had natural curls to it. There were two distinct colors in her hair, with it being a drastic change form top layer to bottom. Her skin was a darker shade, though not pitch black like other demon races may have. A nice tanned color.

The dress she wore had off the shoulder puffed sleeves, with a yellow base color. The top of the dress was covered in a navy lining, which sparked in the moonlight. Her face covered in a mask of similar color, with a navy base, and golden decoration. Reiji could also see horns nestled on her head, definitely a demon of some kind.

She seemed completely unaware of his presence, normally he too would remain to himself, but something in him this night urged him to speak. So Reiji softly cleared his throat, to alert her, “Ahem, excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt.”

Almost immediately her head shot up, in search for the sound. When her eyes settled on Reiji, he was taken back for a moment. They were an intense golden color. Clearly the eyes of a predator, as if she were searching for a threat. As she took in the vampire, the intensity cooled slightly. “Oh no forgive me. I was simply paying my respects to the moon.” Her voice held some type of accent – which Reiji couldn’t quite place.

Reiji smiles, moving his hand in a dismissive gesture. “You are a guest, and this is a celebration of the moon. It would be rude of me to deny you the pleasure. I do wonder, if I might ask, your accent. I recognize it being European in nature. Where is it from?”

She blushes slightly and covers her mouth, “Ah, was it that noticeable? There are times when I get languages mixed up in my head. When we are in the Human World, my family lives mostly in Greece. However, we travel quite a bit. I simply found the language so beautiful, subconsciously I find myself speaking that way.” As she spoke, her Japanese became more fluid, the accent fading. “Languages are something of a passion of mine.”

Reiji admires how she was able to adjust her way of speaking. Neither language must be her native tongue. “I am also quite fond of learning new Languages. I find my repartee with most to be quite fluid. You seem to be skilled with them as well, the accent was all but gone by the end of your sentence.” Reiji offers her a smile and moves a little closer to her. “I have yet to introduce myself, Reiji Sakamaki.” He offers her a small bow.

In response, she offers him a small curtsy, “Calli, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sakamaki-san.” She smiles up at him as they both rise. “You would be one of our host son, am I wrong? My father has told me stories about the famous Karlheinz. I had wondered about his children.” Calli looks back over to the moon. “I am glad to have met one of you, it makes me a little less nervous now.”

Reiji was not sure what she spoke of, though from the way she spoke, she must be a daughter to one of the Demon Lords. Which clan though, he could not say. Reiji new much, but there were still so many things about the Makai’s residents he had to learn. Something he would learn, as he and Shu continued towards their goal.

There was something alluring about her mystery. Form the small conversation they shared, Reiji could tell she was a very learned woman. Her upbringing was proper. She carried herself with grace. It was strange that she did not give her last name to him, though perhaps she was worried her title would be less than his own.

Perhaps it was the moon, but something inside him was compelling him to learn more about her. “You said that Greece is your home? I have not been there is quite some time myself. From what I do remember though, it was quite lovely.”

This seemed to light something inside her, as Calli turned to him in excitement. “Oh it is, personally I believe it to be the most beautiful. Though, my mother might not like me saying that. Our family has lived in many different places, and her favorite has always been in South America.” She covers her mouth slightly, “Forgive me, I got a little excited. I have not been around others too much, outside of my siblings.”

“Ah, I can relate to that.” Reiji says offering her a small chuckle. “It feels like an eternity since I have been able to speak with someone who did not share my blood.” He said this, but it was not entirely true. Rika was someone he spoke to as often as he could, but as late that has not been an option for them.

The two of them stayed out on the balcony for quite some time. It felt easy to speak with Calli, which was strange for Reiji. There were not many that shared his intestate, aside from Rika, but this was different. Calli was like him. She was much older than her appearance, and even though she was kept close to her family, she had years of knowledge. Similar to himself.

Even though it felt like a long time, in truth, the two of them only spoke for a few minutes. Their conversation interrupted by a loud crashing sound from inside. Followed with a voice Reiji recognized all too well. “Ah… it would appear I am needed. It was lovely to meet you, Lady Calli.” Reiji offered her a quick farewell and took his leave.

As he walked through the crowd of guest, something compelled him to look back. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Calli now speaking with a rather large man. This man he could easily identify. That was Ajax, current Head of the Eagle Demons. His body language to the much smaller female was that of someone who cared about her greatly. Perhaps she was his daughter?

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ ﾟ ｡. +ﾟ ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡ TO BE CONTINUED ☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

[the-fusionist]

It Really Isn’t a Joke (Wonder Woman Salt One-Shot)

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @vixen-uchiha for giving me the idea in my asks! This is a one shot so I will not be continuing this. Also I love Wonder Woman despite writing salt about her lol (* ^.^*) Not maribat, but I do have a maribat fic in the works so yay!

Here I go: 

Wonder Woman used to operate in Paris, at least for an extremely short time. Only a week really, so it hardly counted. She had assumed that Paris was safe in her absence, considering that whatever happened there couldn’t possibly be as bad as the enemies the Justice League faced. So she left, blindly disregarding the city that was about to descend into chaos.

Just a few days after her departure, she got word of attacks in Paris. A baby that enlarges. The next time it’s a pigeon man. The third it’s a video of two children decked in animal themed spandex begging for her to return to Paris and help them defeat a butterfly villain. She scoffed when she had watched it. 

She knew that she had a large fan club, but she hadn’t thought anyone would be stupid enough to try and trick her back into their city. She couldn’t go back to Paris, the Justice League needed her and these kids should know better than that. 

So she scowled as she deleted all of those videos before sending a short message about how they needed to understand that heroes have responsibilities. That a prank like the one they pulled is an unnecessary and dangerous distraction from people who actually needed her help. 

After pressing send, she made sure to block them so they could never contact her again. She didn’t have time for ridiculous pranks. As a result, she unknowingly left two children to fend for themselves against a dangerous force. Two spiteful children who held immense power, who would soon grow even more responsible than she could have ever been. 

~ 5 years later ~

Wonder Woman sat in the meeting room with a furious Batman and concerned Superman. She was confused about why Bats had suddenly called on such a meeting. She sincerely hoped that they didn’t have another world crisis on their hands. Those were never fun to deal with. 

So she sat silently and stared questioningly at the two men. Silently, Batman pulls a remote from god knows where and presses a button. The computer screen, courtesy of Wayne Enterprises, in front of the table they sit at springs to life. A video begins playing, loud noise and crashes resounding throughout the room. Blood curdling screams could be made out among the loud booms. 

The image whips around to face a recognizable girl and boy, who had aged since Wonder Woman had last seen them on a screen. She watched unconcerned as they faced a taller man who appeared to be surrounded by butterflies. The ladybug hero appeared to be luring the man closer to the edge of the building, giving up ground as they fought. Then, out of nowhere the cat hero sprang in and buried a peculiar dagger into the man’s back. 

The girl then snatched what looked like a brooch off the man, who was falling to the floor in pain. His outfit seemed to melt off into nowhere as he lay defeated on the floor. The girl hero then shouted a muffled phrase while throwing the dagger into the air. As she was doing this, the cat hero was crouched down next to the body of the unconscious villain sobbing. The video suddenly cut.

She turned her attention back to the two men in the room, amused at the grim expressions they wore.

She laughed, “I can’t believe you two fell for that prank by those kids. They’re honestly so annoying. I love my fans but they definitely went too far this time. I didn’t think they would go as far to contact the league after I told them off. Oh well, I suppose you want to pay them a visit after they engaged in making these fake videos again. It really isn’t a joke.”

Superman looked at his colleague with unmasked disgust, while Batman seemed to fume darkly under his cowl.

“It really isn’t a joke. And neither are they,” Batman voiced in a gruff tone laced with icy rage. 

The entrance doors slid open to reveal the two teenagers who had been in the video they had been watching just moments ago. The three older heroes beheld haunted eyes and the wary way Ladybug and Chat Noir walked. But there was a dangerous glint when they assessed Wonder Woman.

“Leave us. We have words,” declared Ladybug in a voice that left no room for argument as she stared blankly at Wonder Woman. 

Chat Noir stood next to her, a silent sentry of support as he looked solemnly upon older heroes. Superman didn’t need to be a detective like Batman to know the look of distrust. With a silent nod Batman left the room reluctantly with Superman in tow. 

Wonder Woman began to feel a slight sense of dread as she looked at the two expressionless heroes, but she ignored it. She didn’t have any reason to be afraid of these two. 

Ladybug spoke first. “We wanted to tell you that we forgive you. Even though you abandoned us, it’s wrong to hold grudges. We will not be hostile to you unless you give us a reason. But it will take a while to develop an alliance with you after all that’s been said and done.”

Wonder Woman scoffed at the two children. She couldn’t believe they were acting so high and mighty. Like she was someone less capable. Like she was someone bad. It didn’t sit well with her. Who the hell did they think they were?

She voiced her question scowling, “And just who might you both be to be speaking in such a way?”

This time it was Chat who answered, giving a toothy smile that held a darker edge to it, “We are Ladybug and Chat Noir, holders of the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses of Creation and Destruction.”

Wonder Woman’s face dawned with recognition. Their costumes were very different from those she had been told of in the old stories, probably explaining why she didn’t recognize them. Their outfits had probably changed to suit their needs, as older Miraculous holders had worn battle armor and the like. 

She couldn’t believe these two held that much power. They were only children. She had to take the Miraculous from them. They couldn’t possibly be able to protect them, given their age which hinted at inexperience. Yes, desperate measures had to be taken. 

So the Amazon stupidly spoke, “Give the Miraculous to me. I can protect them and use them far better than the two of you ever could. So hand them over. Two children like you couldn’t possibly do anything to keep them safe from falling into the wrong hands.”

Ladybug lashed out, “Oh we’ve had five years of experience from keeping them from falling into the wrong hands no thanks to you, and we sure as hell aren’t going to quit now.”

The younger heroes had become tense, waiting for Wonder Woman’s response. The Amazon hadn’t expected resistance, but she knew what she had to do. She unsheathed the sword at her side and prepared to attack.

But before she could even swing her sword, she found herself immobilized by a yo-yo. Her sword was across the room, having been kicked away from her by Chat. She struggled as she tried to break loose, but found she couldn’t. She seethed. It was magic.

“You will not take the Miraculous from us. Give us your word that you will stop and we will release you,” Ladybug spoke in a dangerous voice as she stared down the older hero on the floor.

“I could protect the Miraculous better than the two of you. I’m much older and have more experience than the both of you could. The Miraculous has a long history with the Amazons, they practically belong to us. So release me and give them up.”

Ladybug nodded solemnly at Chat. Before Wonder Woman knew it, pain spread across her head as Chat swung his staff in a practiced way and she felt herself drift off. The yo-yo came loose but the Amazon felt dizzy. She faintly heard a female voice say something about someone called Kaalki. A bright light flashed and she felt the world around her darken. 

~ 10 minutes later ~

Wonder Woman woke up in a bed in the infirmary. Batman and Superman stood over her. Clark had the decency to look concerned while Batman kept a stoic expression. A few words were exchanged and she assured them that she was alright, but she was annoyed the two teenagers had gotten away. 

Batman had been watching the surveillance footage outside the room before it had blacked out. He and Superman tried to open the doors when they heard struggling inside, but they were magically sealed. As soon as they finally pried them open, they found an unconscious Wonder Woman on the ground near a note folded next to her sword.

Batman finally held out the piece of paper to Wonder Woman. It was a simple note, reading, “To Queen Hippolyta and the Amazons: Remember Atlantis.” There was no signature, only the insignia of a cat’s paw stamped in a deep black ink. Batman noted that the ink seemed to give off an unearthly green glow, similar to the Lazarus Pits. He noticed Diana had paled as she read the note. 

“What does Atlantis have to do with this?” he asked sharply.

The Amazon gulped, knowing that Batman would not be happy, “You know about the legend of Atlantis and how it seemingly disappeared. Well, the ruler of Atlantis was actually an Amazon who had a quarrel with the God of Destruction. So, being the God of Destruction, Plagg ended up destroying Atlantis. Plagg and Tikki are the Gods of Creation and Destruction, and their power can be harnessed by the magic of the Miraculouses. Those Miraculouses are what give Ladybug and Chat Noir their power.”

Superman paled. He may be a kryptonian, but those were Gods. They had managed to anger Gods. He groaned.

Batman was furious at Wonder Woman. He truly worked with stupid idiots. First Superman had attacked the two young heroes when they had shown up after Batman had invited them. And now Wonder Woman had pissed them off even more. 

Yup. They were in some deep shit. Wonder Woman finally realized, it hadn't been a joke. 

Tag List:  @rebecarojas07 @theatreandcomicfreak @princessanimeangel11 @maribatlife @ethelphantom @18-fandoms-unite-08 @queengeorgiaaa

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Guardian of creatures; AU! Queen x oc female x reader Chap. 10

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well happy New Year and happy 2021! Hopefully we have a better year than last year was and a new year means new fanfics! And to top it off I’m gonna start off with a new chapter for my GOC story. Also I’ve got 8 new chapters of my new Borhap Disney AU series so I hope you all love that but for now I hope you all enjoy this chapter here. Also I hope you all enjoy the little surprise at the end.

And if you need a refresher playing Seraffel is Jensen Ackles and Thor is Jared Padalecki.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@glitter-at-the-panic​

@queensdivas​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@wormzteef​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@kinole009x​

@queen-paladin​

Chapter 10,

Preparations beings

__________________________________________________________

With no time to spare, John and Serafina use their magic to further disassemble the mansion and soon there stood a suitcase and it soon locked up.  John took the suitcase while going up towards Seraffel (both boys were now back in their dragon forms) while Serafina went up to Thor.

You noticed that now she was growing slightly hesitant towards the storm dragon.  Her hand held up midway towards his snout but she stopped herself.  You then watch as Thor nuzzles his snout right into Serafina’s chest.  Deep, soothing rumbles come out of his throat that almost resembled the soft sound of thunder.

“Come on. We can’t stay here. Everyone pick a dragon and prepare for a long flight.” Freddie said as he slithered his way towards Thor and wrapped himself around the storm dragon’s back.  You noticed how unlike before when Freddie used his coils to subdue the Wyvern, he wasn’t squeezing or even trying to strangle the storm dragon.

Brian joined John on top of Seraffel and of course Roger went with Freddie and Serafina.  Now it was up to you to decide which dragon you would go with.  But before you made any decision, you suddenly found two giant dragon heads leaning barely an inch away from you.  You stared into the deep ocean blue and amethyst eyes of these great beasts you had only read in stories.  Both had a slitted pupil, like a cats as they pierced your very soul.

You could feel each intake and breath of air they exhaled as they stared at you.  The earth almost seemed to move underneath you as they let out soft growls.  It was then Seraffel made the first move and pushed his head against you.  From his throat, deep yet loving growls came out as he kept pushing himself against you, his scales rubbing up against your stomach.

“Push your weight against him.” John said to you.  You looked up at your teacher and did as he told you.  Seraffel’s growls became more loving and affectionate as he now allowed his brother to do the same.  This time you felt Thor’s snout actually stroke and nuzzle your back as affectionate growls came out of him.

“They’re thanking you for reuniting us.” Serafina said with a soft smile.  You smiled and decided to give them affection back.  You gently headbutted the side of Thor’s face as he circled his long neck around you in an affectionate dragon hug.  Seraffel’s head soon came back into the game and you did the same thing.

His eyes closed as he gave your forehead a gentle headbutt back.  He also gave you a dragon’s kiss.  His cold tongue nipped at your left cheek while your right cheek was also licked by Thor’s warm one.  A perfect mixture of warm and cold.

“You’re welcome.” You said to them. The two dragons stared down at you before bowing their heads to you and actually letting you soft purrs. You then walk over to Seraffel and he gladly moves his blue-finned tail closer to you.  You grab a hold of his tail and he slowly lifts you up onto his back and Brian helps you get situated.

“You might want to hold on tightly.” Brian tells you.  You wrap your arms around the Elven lord’s waist and he tells John that we’re ready.

“Volant Seraffel.”

“Volant Thor.” Both John and Serafina say at the same time and soon your stomach lurches downward as you are first hovering over the ground, but soon the ground becomes smaller and smaller as the air grows a little bit colder.  The clouds wisping past your bare arms, never did you think you’d ever get to feel what an actual cloud feels like but there you were.

Soon the clouds disappeared and all you could see was the full moon and a sea of stars.

“Not many can say they’ve truly earned a Dragon’s loyalty.” Brian’s voice said to you.  You look at him and he turns to you, a soft gleam in his eyes (in fact they almost seemed enhanced underneath the light of the stars. A richer color of blue). “Only two other people I know of have earned that level of trust. And you’ve been taught by them.”

“So—these two are really John and Serafina’s children? I mean they’re dragons. But John and Serafina are sorcerers. How did they—”

“Adopted.” Ohh okay that makes sense. “They were adopted by John and Serafina at birth. But it doesn’t make them any less their own. You see, they were abandoned by their nests well over 700 years ago. Serafina still could sense life within their eggs so she and John took it upon themselves to see if they could hatch them. At least give them a chance at life unlike their real families did.”

“That’s so cruel.”

“It’s nature. Especially for dragons. For them only the strong survive. Any egg that doesn’t hatch along with the rest of its nest is considered infertile. So they abandon their unhatched eggs without a second thought.”

“How long did it take for them to finally hatch?” you ask him.

“Those two waited on those eggs hand and foot. Then finally when last leaves of Autumn fell and the first kiss of Winter came; Seraffel was the first to spring right out of his egg. Three months later during the first spring thunderstorm, Thor arrived.”

Wow so these dragons are just three months apart from each other.  But they’re so big since they’re technically considered runts.  I mean if it’s the same sort of situation like with other animals like dogs or pigs when you get the runt of the litter, John and Serafina must’ve really loved and cared for these dragons to get this big.

“Can I ask—why John and Serafina never really……”

“Had children of our own?” John suddenly spoke up.  You turn to see John staring towards Serafina riding on Thor.  Seraffel let out a growl towards Thor before letting out a few grunts and huffs.  Thor let out a soft rumble before flying a few feet ahead. “It happened just shortly after the two of us ran away from the cult. We had been caught in an ambush. Serafina and I had gotten trapped by my psychotic mother and her vicious sisters and cousins. My mother gave Serafina a curse. A dark curse that almost killed her had it not been for Brian and Roger. But—it had severe consequences.”

“You see, Serafina had taken a blood curse. And a curse like that destroys you from the inside out. Severe internal bleeding, organs slowly shutting down till finally……” Brian stopped and took a sharp breath in. “No living sorcerer has survived it because there’s no counter spell to reverse it. Thanks to Freddie’s advance knowledge of brewery and Naga magic she miraculously survived. However it had come with a price.”

“One was her natural appearance. As I’m sure you recall from when Freddie showed you our past, she had black hair and brown eyes. Well it changed her hair and eye color to the color of blood. First it was her eyes then her hair slowly but surely became blood red. Then—we found out she had become infertile.”

Infertile? You mean as in…….

“John and Serafina longed to have a family of their own. Especially once all this mess had been put behind them. But when they asked Freddie about her other symptoms after her hair started to change, he gave them the cold-honest truth. Serafina could never bare any children. Not even he could change that.” Brian explained solemnly.

Poor Serafina. Not only did she lose her entire family but she also lost a shot at making one with the man she loves.  You could tell by John’s posture that it hurt for him to even speak of it.

“We were both devastated, especially Serafina. She felt like she had failed me because she knew how much I wanted to be a father. But I assured her it wasn’t her fault. None of it was. But I guess fate was on our side because eventually we found these two.” John placed a comforting hand to Seraffel’s neck who let out a soft purr as he leaned against his father’s touch.

“Then how come you guys weren’t around when I first met you all?” at that point John went quiet and lowered his head down.  You saw his shoulder softly shake but Brian placed a comforting hand on your master’s shoulder and he whispered in Elvish to him.

Now you didn’t know much about the language but there were a few words you did pick up.  Basically Brian was telling John to calm down and you heard him mention Thor and Seraffel’s names.  John then rested himself against Seraffel’s neck, clinging onto him and stroking his black scales.

“In the summer of 1309, we had another run in with John’s family in Scotland at the time of the battle of Bannockburn. A few years after William Wallace had been beheaded and his limbs cut off to be displayed to the 4 corners of England and Scotland……”

“It’ll take all night for you to explain it!” John snapped. The tremor in his voice trying to hold back a sob but mostly came out in anger.  He levitated himself over Brian and sat between the two of you.  He placed both index and tall finger at each side of your temples and said. “I’ll show you what happened that day. But just know it wasn’t her fault.”

His fingers glowed purple and soon you felt your mind being flushed down a vortex and you found yourself hovering over a battlefield.

A whole bunch of witches and wizards were fighting.  But the clothes told you the difference of who was on what side.  You recognized the black robes from John’s family while wizards with not only swords and shields on hand but waving the Scottish flag with pride showed you that this was a wizard duel between the English and the Scottish sorcerers.

They were badly outnumbered but you soon saw Seraffel and Thor working together to help the Scots out.  Thor sent down lightning bolts upon John’s entire family while Seraffel covered them in ice barriers.  Soon you felt yourself being pulled a certain direction and you saw John and Serafina battling against John’s parents, his brother and cousin Crowley.

“Give it up Johnny boy, you can’t last much longer!” Crowley sneered as his quickly stuck out his tongue in that sneering way.

“Your magic is nothing compared to a troll’s level. Slow and miniscule.” John sassed.

“Why you little—”

“He’s stirring you up cousin. Besides, we’ve got something bigger on our side.” His brother Draco said.

“What are you talking about?” Serafina sneered lowly as she aimed her wand at Draco.  It was then Ronan rolled up his sleeve and there you saw the very mark that had branded itself on your chest, however his was a black marking (like someone had put charcoal on his arm).  A green light shined from his forearm as he soon let out a yell.

It almost sounded like a roar as his arm glowed brighter and brighter.  You turned to the sky and saw a large black storm cloud of smoke charging right for them. It brushed past Thor and he looked down curiously before he then let out a roar towards Seraffel and the two of them proceeded to fly towards you.

The black smoke landed with a hard thud and soon revealing himself before them was John’s grandfather Grindelwald.  In his hand he held a skull with an orange tube around it and at the end of the tube was some kind of golden piece to it that almost resembled an upper-class cigarette holder.

At his appearance, his brother and cousin bowed, his mother smirked maliciously as she raised her wand to her head giving a crazed tilt of her head like an insane person.

“As Sorcerer Supreme none can resist a spell he casts. No effect on the bloodline itself, but to others they submit.” He spoke in that low, soft, whispery voice of his.  His eyes turned directly towards Serafina as he took the golden end of the tube and put it in his mouth inhaling deeply.  The inside of the skull glowed, it’s eyes shining a bright yellow before he exhaled the smoke right towards Serafina.

As the smoke slowly encircled around her, she suddenly began to fidget and lose absolute control of her body.  She was screaming as she held her head in what seemed to be pain.

“Serafina?” Serafina continued to try and resist the spell she was being put under. “Serafina my love what’s wrong!?”

“Witness true strength John. The strength of will over magic.” Soon Serafina’s fighting ceased as she now stood tall but her eyes were now pure white as she stood erect, staring directly at Grindelwald.

“See brother, in the face of it. You…..are…..nothing!” his brother Draco snarled.  Grindelwald then turned towards John but didn’t say a word.  Soon slowly turned towards John was Serafina.

“What did my grandfather just tell you?” you then saw his mother take something out from behind her back.  It was the urn.  The very same urn that was in the NY Times office.

Oh no you knew where this was going now.  You watched helplessly as John’s brother and cousin held him down while Serafina slowly walked towards John, under the control of Grindelwald, her wand at the ready while John’s mother opened up the urn cackling.

“Serafina! No, no, no my love you’ve got to snap out of it! Please! This isn’t you! Serafina no! Melda!” he said ‘my love’ in Elvish. “Serafina!” She then soullessly spoke out a chant as her wand glowed pure white.

Aldruon En Lenthranall

Losolomirus Nor!

As the blast headed towards John, you saw a younger version of Seraffel and Thor land in their human forms before John, taking the shot for their father.

You found yourself pulled back to reality and as you breathed heavily you looked at John who was looking down with tears in his eyes.

“They used me as bait. To get rid of our Aces. Of course that’s all they saw the boys as. It destroyed us, especially Serafina. That urn could only be opened by the very magic used to seal whom or whatever is inside. So for 200 years we searched for the urn, when we ran into one of my aunts about it. She told us that they had melted the urn. At that point we—we feared that our boys were lost forever. Until you came along.”

So when you touched the urn back in the storage room, since you had been taught Serafina’s magic…..that’s why it was able to unlock so easily! It all made sense now.  You were the one to free these two after 600 years.

“And now the boys are forever in your debt for freeing them and reuniting them with their parents.” Brian finished.

Seraffel and Thor continued to fly long into the night and as the sun began to rise overhead, they slowly descended downward.  You moan as you start to wake up from your slumber.

“Where are we?” you said with a yawn.

“We’re going to see an old ally of mine and Serafina’s. Not only that but the boys need to rest, especially Seraffel.” John said.  As you looked down you saw nothing but sand. Sand for miles on end, but what also caught your eye were some of the most familiar landmarks you’d ever seen.

The pyramids and the mighty Sphynx.  Holy shit you were in Egypt! You had always dreamed of coming to Egypt and now you had arrived at last! The land of the pharaohs, one of the most vast cultures of mythology and History known to mankind (next to Greece and Rome).

Seraffel and Thor landed on the ground and you all got off their backs.  John and Brian helped you off and soon both Seraffel and Thor shifted into their human forms.  Meanwhile you saw Serafina go over to Freddie and cling onto his arm and he leaned up against her as she waved her fingers down towards his tail and soon you actually saw Freddie’s tail turn to human legs.

“I’ll do my best to also convince the muggles here that you are a normal human Freddie, but the spell itself won’t last long I’m afraid.”

“Just as long as we get moving as quick as possible.” He told her.

“Right so we’ll need transportation, new clothes, and some supplies like water and food.” Brian said as he took out his bag and pulled out some Egyptian pounds and gave them to each and every one of you. “Buy only what you need and don’t. draw. Attention. To. Yourselves.” He emphasized and eyed everyone, especially Roger.

“You act like as if I’m gonna screw everything up.” Roger snapped offensively.

“Well anything in a dress or skirt you do howl over like the hound dog you are.” John sassed as he counted his pounds.  Roger growled.

“Enough you two we don’t have time for your petty squabble. Anymore lip from you two and I’ll swallow you both do I make myself clear!?” Freddie hissed.

“Yes sir!” both Brian and Roger said.

“Right now let’s get our supplies and be done with this village.” Serafina guided Freddie towards the marketplace of the village nearby while John went along with Brian and Roger to make sure they didn’t cause trouble.

“Guess that leaves you with us kid.” Seraffel said.

“Yeah guess so. Hope you don’t mind.” You answered the ice dragon.

“Not at all. Plus we can get to know our savior a bit better.” Said Thor as the three of you went towards the market to buy yourselves some new clothes first.

You told them everything about your life and how you met their parents along with the rest of their little ‘family’.  After your tale and now with new clothes on, you asked the two dragons.

“Now this is just me asking out of curiosity, why couldn’t we just keep flying on you guys? I’m sure we’d get there a lot faster and find this ally of your parents’.”

“True but there are complications.” Thor responded. “One, due to this intense heat, Seraffel won’t last very long flying so close to the sun.”

“I really don’t get why their informant had to be here in the hottest continent of all!” Seraffel growled lowly.

“And two, there are stricter laws about—you know creatures like us exposing ourselves.”

“You mean Egyptians are prejudice against dragons?”

“Not just dragons but other creatures as well.” Thor said.

“Look you know how you humans have your customs and traditions?” Seraffel started off.  You nodded. “Well the supernatural world has their own rules and laws. Some are slightly flexible like Europe and in America, but for other countries like Russia and some countries here in Africa, it’s illegal to expose yourself to the humans. If we even so much as put one claw out of place, we’d get slammed by the Wizarding community of this country.”

“And cause we’re also on the run from our great grandfather as well as the rest of our dad’s psychotic family, we risk exposure to them as well. Last they know we’re still in New York.” Thor finished for his older brother.  You nodded in understandment and soon you found Serafina and Freddie with your transportation.

2 camels and 6 horses.  Freddie was already on top of one of the horses who was already going uneasy, probably feeling his snake-like skin and probably his tail too.  Serafina gently stroked the black horse’s muzzle whispering in Elvish to him which made him calm down.

“Pick your ride.” Seraffel and Thor took the camels while the rest of you took the horses.  You found yourself riding on top of a yellow mare with a white mane and tail.  She tossed her head back whinnying happily and you gave her a pat on her strong neck.

“Seems you’ve picked yourself a good one. She likes you.” Brian told you as he steadied his pure white horse.  John tacked the supplies onto the backs of Thor and Seraffel’s camels.

“Now make sure those don’t fall off. I know how stubborn camels can be.” He told his boys.

“No worries dad we got this.” Thor said assuring his dad. “And Seraffel, keep this over your head so you don’t overheat. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us through the desert.” He handed Seraffel a dark brown fedora with extended brim (to you it almost looked like a cowboy hat).

He took the hat and placed it on his head.  John patted his son’s leg and looked up at him worriedly.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay riding by yourself?”

“I’ll manage pops. And if I keel over I’ll give you and mom a heads up.” John nodded then hesitantly walked over to his pure black Arabian horse and rode up beside Serafina who was riding a chestnut brown mare with a heart-shaped white patch on her forehead.  John’s black stallion lovingly licked and nipped at Serafina’s mare (of course they would get a mated pair of stallions, only fitting).

“Alright, let’s move out. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover if we want to reach the tribe before we’re discovered here.” Freddie said and soon you all rode out of town and into the desert.

God no wonder why people complain about the desert! It was dry, sand literally blew everywhere even without the assistance of the wind, and to put it all out it was TOO FUCKING HOT!!!

You tried to shield yourself with your own hat that you managed to buy and take a sip of your water.  Serafina told you that out here you have to ration your water intake cause it can easily go away if you continuously drink it.  As you rode by Serafina you asked her.

“So just who is it that we’re going to see that lives out in the middle of the desert?”

“He goes by the name of Ardeth. John and I met him shortly after we ran away and took refuge here. Of course we underestimated the power of the desert and got ourselves lost. During a sandstorm we somehow managed to find him and he saved us. Took us to some water after five days without water.”

“What exactly is he like?”

“Mysterious. I’ll only say that.” But you could tell that Serafina was hiding something.  It was like she was trying to hold herself back from saying something else. “We didn’t stay for long cause he had to keep moving along. The Medjai sorcerers are a nomadic tribe after all. Moving from one place to another, even if they travelled alone.”

“And he was the only one to find you and John?” she nodded.

“Our encounter was roughly 10-15minutes long but he—he seemed wise, knowledgeable about the land. But he told us if we ever needed help again to go to the Medjai tribe and say his name, then they’d know we’re on their side.”

“You mean there are cults that don’t agree with John’s family?”

“Yes. And those are the cults that we side with. Most of Europe, mainly England’s wizards follow the Sorcerer Supreme, no matter who sits on the throne. But there are some cults that since the reign of Thomas Riddle Deacon have broken off from the loyalty of the Sorcerer Supreme because they refused to follow in the lead of a mass murderer. As punishment some of them were wiped off the map, while others went into hiding. Only coming out till this war begins, and the Medjai have our trust.”

“So there really is going to be a war?” you asked hesitantly. Yes you have taken this training and agreed to help out but you were still scared.  After all you’ve never really fought in a war before, you were but a child during the Great War and that was with moral guns and ships, this time you’re facing dark wizards with spells that can kill you with a single phrase and a quick flick of their wrist.

“Yes dear. But with any luck you won’t have to fight in it. Only do what you’ve been destined to do.”

“I—remember seeing a brief vision when I first met Freddie. Of me in a battle but……what exactly am I supposed to do?”

“Only you can decide that. When the time comes you’ll know just what you’re destined to do. But for now we focus on getting to the tribe. There John and I will have to speed up your training in order to at least be deemed strong enough in real combat.” You nod and you all continue your way throughout the desert.

The sun continued to beam down upon your heads and it felt like an eternity before the sun started to set.

“Let’s set camp up right here.” John said.  Roger got off his horse and immediately fell to the ground exhausted and dehydrated.  You exclaim his name and race over to him.  You could hear him panting but he assured you.

“I’ll be fine. Just a little dehydrated.”

“Do you want me to get you some water? How long can you survive like this?”

“With some shade and rest I’ll be right as rain. Don’t worry kid I’m fine.” He stood up but you could tell from his staggering footsteps and faint but heavy breathing he wasn’t.  Guess Seraffel’s not the only one you all should worry about.

“He’s as stubborn as a mule but there’s no changing his mind.” Freddie spoke beside you.  “I’ll see to it he at least gets some water in his system.” His tail now fully out, slithered towards Roger and the two of them proceeded to have a quiet conversation.

“(Y/n), come help Serafina and I set up these tents.” John called out to you.  You walked over to them and like normal people do, you helped them set up the tents so that everyone had a place to sleep for the night.

The Deacon clan would share a tent together, Freddie took one for himself, while you, Brian and Roger took the last one.  As dusk came and the hot air finally became cool enough you all had a quick but plentiful dinner before retiring for the night. Almost immediately as soon as you head rested on your sleeping bag pillow, your eyes fell shut and you went to sleep immediately.

*3rd Person POV*

Soon the rest of our travelers fell into a deep sleep knowing they still had a long journey to the Medjai tribe.  Taking advantage of the cool night air, they left their tents open to allow the cool air to enter inside.

In the Deacon tent, Serafina and John were cuddled up together as usual along with Thor and Seraffel circling around them.  The four of them slept peacefully unaware that a mysterious glowing figure was walking towards them.

The figure stopped beside John and Serafina’s tent and as the figure stopped, the sound of thunder quietly rumbled in the night sky. Serafina woke up to the sound of the thunder and could feel a couple of drops of rain land on her forehead.

“Thor! Did you cause this?” She softly hissed to her youngest son.  He groaned out tiredly.

“Mom….I’m trying to sleep.” That’s when a deep, ghostly voice said to her.

“It was I who caused it.” Her body stiffened and she suddenly felt a cold brush of air flick at the back of her neck.  She crawled out of her tent and when she looked to the right she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

A giant specter.  The ghost stood probably well over 11-12feet tall.  He wore ancient blue wizard robes along with a red cape that fluttered behind him.  His face was well defined with cheekbones so sharp you could swear you’d cut your hand if you’d slap them.  His eyes soulless and blue with a pure white pupil.  He also sported a goatee style like beard and a small smirk grew upon his cupid-bow lips.

“Well don’t just sit there gawking like a codfish. Get up.” The ghost said to her in a teasing tone.  

Serafina couldn’t believe it.  Her mouth dropped as she couldn’t believe just who this ghost truly was. She had seen many creatures before in her lifetime, and specters were no different but never did she believe she’d ever meet the ghost of…….

“Ba—Balthazar?”

“As I once told you and my descendant……” the spirit before her disappeared into an Egyptian man with shoulder length black hair, Arabic markings on each cheek that said WARRIOR and LOYALTY.  He had deep brown eyes and stood about 6 foot and was a strongly built man in black Egyptian robes. 

“You can call me Ardeth.” He said with a quirked grin across his lips.

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Welcome to the Back (Part 6)

First Chapter  Previous Chapter  Next Chapter

Felix’ home was... not what she’d expected. From the street, it had looked pretty similar to the Agreste Mansion: high walls, pointy fences, and security cameras.

But as soon as the gate closed behind them, the similarities ended. The plot was wide, but the actual house was almost tiny. It had two stories, and was by all standards still more than enough for two persons, but for a family this rich, it was almost ridiculously modest. The garden was just a bit too messy, the house just a bit too... homely to compare it to Adrien’s. 

“Mum? I’m home.”, Felix said in English as they entered the house, Marinette hurrying after him. The inside of the building was illuminated by sunlight falling through the high windows, tinted green by the leafs of the maple tree outside. There were shelfs as long as the diameter of her room covering the walls, filled to the brim with fashion magazines, novels and poetry collections. One wall was completely plastered with pictures of a sulking, gloomy looking boy in various stages of childhood. The photographies didn’t look like results of a professional photo shoot, but rather like snap shots of a phone or amateur camera. 

They were utterly adorable.

“Sorry for the mess.”, Felix pulled her out of her reverence. He looked a bit nervous, bordering on embarrassed. It was... cute.

“We only moved here a couple of weeks ago, and my mother tends to overcompensate by... well, giving the room her personal flair.”

“And I did a damn good job, Mister Misery Guts!” yelled a chirping voice from the stairs in the back, just before a tall, red haired woman stormed into the room, beaming like a Christmas tree. Her curly hair was pulled up into a bun so messy Marinette almost mistook it for a nest, and there was a reddish smudge of lipstick on her cheek. At least a dozen pins and needles were stuck between the folds of her yellow dress, and Marinette would bet the bag on her belt contained even more. And was that a string of yarn wrapped around her hips?

“You must be Marinette!”, the cheerful woman greeted before basically throwing her arms around the girl. “I’m Evelyn, and so happy to meet you!”

“U-Uh, likewise!”, Marinette stammered back. This woman could only be Felix’ mother, but she was so... different. All hugs and smiles and loud positivity. If she didn’t know better, Marinette would have never guessed the two were even distantly related.

“Mum, remember the talk we had about personal space?”, Felix groaned and shooed her off so Marinette could breath. Evelyn jumped back immediately.

“Right! Sorry! I’m just so excited. Felix told me so much about you!”

“He- He did?” Marinette asked with a side glance at her friend, who became weirdly stiff next to her.

“How about we have lunch now!”, he all but yelled, his eyes burning into his mother’s with something akin to panic. She shrugged and pouted innocently.

“Sure! It’s not like like I would’ve said something embarrassing. But you were right, her pigtails really are cute!”

“MUM!”

Lunch was delicious. After hearing Felix complain about the english cuisine for weeks she’d been a little worried if she was honest. But the Fish and Chips Evelyn presented out of seemingly nowhere were wonderful! And after realizing Evelyn knew all sorts of embarrassing things about her son, Marinette had given Felix the most devilish grin possible, before starting to worm every little detail out of his mother. But her friend didn’t give his dignity up easily, so the meal turned into a verbal battlefield quickly. Marinette’s attempts at revealing yet another embarrassing childhood story were countered by Felix’ creative solution of changing the topic as fast as possible.

Finally, Felix secured victory by bringing up Fashion, something all three of them could get behind.

“Flowers! Oh, I love flowers!”, Evelyn exclaimed, pointing at Marinette’s shirt. “There’s nothing quite as timeless as plants!”

“Absolutely!”, Marinette agreed. “And they’re not limited to any culture as well. You can have flower prints on Kimonos, T-shirts, Saris; they have a huge significance in fashion all around the world. As a pattern or as accessories!”

“They’re available everywhere.”, Felix chimed in, listing several of their characteristics. “They symbolize similar things in almost every culture. They’re associated with life and health, and their  color schemes cover a wide range. They come in both extravagant and discreet shapes. So why the hell would Audrey Bourgeois want to promote glitter? It’s too flashy!”

“And too reminiscent of the 80’s!”, Evelyn insisted. “Not to be rude, but Bourgeois has no in-depth perception when it comes to fashion. No clue about history, or cultural significance.”

“Or parenting.”, Felix and Marinette deadpanned simultaneously and Evelyn laughed. 

“From what I’ve heard, absolutely.”

Her hand gestures through the air, as if to swat a fly or get rid of a distraction.

“But to get back at what I originally wanted to say, I adore your clothes. Felix told me you design and create everything yourself, by hand! I’m impressed, especially given your young age.”

Marinette shrugged, but beamed with pride. Evelyn Leanne liked her designs!

“I started a bit out of necessity. My favorite color is pink, but almost every pink article of clothing I found in shops was too much, or too gaudy, or too impractical. And then there was the issue of combining! But when I made my own clothes, I could make them exactly as I needed them. And it was so much fun, I just couldn’t stop! Last month I even won the Agreste’s bowler hat competition.”

“Neat! That guy’s hard to impress. I remember doing a collaboration with him last year, and it was a total disaster. He just couldn’t compromise on a single thing! If we had done it his way, the entire show would have been monochromatic black and whites. And on the day of the show...”, she trailed off, the smile fading from her face. It was dead quiet for a second, before Felix chair scraped over the floor with a screech, startling both of them.

“I’ll do the dishes.”, he stated calmly, but his mouth was tense as he spoke. She watched him as he left the room, worried about the sudden change in the atmosphere of the room.

“Is everything alright?”, she asked his mother. Evelyn sighed, looking after him as well.

“I hope so. He didn’t do this for a while, but since he started school, he’s become a bit more sensitive to the topic again.”

She looked at Marinette.

“I was hoping you knew why, to be honest.”

The student shook her head in confusion.

“I don’t want to pry, Madame, but what topic do you mean?”

Now Evelyn looked uncomfortable.

“It’s... See, that was his first fashion show, and I might have put a bit too much pressure on it, on him. He was so excited, and I went a bit overboard with what I promised. And he was doing great, he really was! But another model... he didn’t mean any harm, the poor boy. He just didn’t understand the situation, and Felix took the brunt of it. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples.

“You should probably ask him, if you want to know. I shouldn’t interfere too much in your friendship, and what he wants to share, or how fast.”

Marinette was dying to know what had happened, but nodded. Felix was adamant about his boundaries and kept things close to his chest. She wouldn’t like her parents to spill her worries either, especially not to someone who had only visited once.

“I understand.”

“Thank you.”, Evelyn said, her voice so serious and genuine she sounded awfully similar to Felix. “He’ll appreciate that.”

A smile crept back into her freckled face, chasing the frown away.

“Really, I’m proud he has a friend like you. I can’t remember the last time he brought someone over, and I was a bit worried. He likes to be by himself, but... he’s so different since he knows you. He walks lighter, he smiles a bit more... it’s subtle, but I think he’s happier now.”

Marinette laughed nervously, a fuzzy feeling in her stomach at the thought that she affected him that much.

“Was he that grouchy?”

“No! I mean, yes, but that’s just how he is. His default mode. But now you’ve unlocked the Smiling Grouch Premium Pack, and that’s more than I could’ve ever hoped for. Who knows, maybe I’ll even hear him hum one day! Or, God beware, whistle!”

They talked on for a while, and Marinette realized she’d been wrong, earlier that afternoon. Evelyn and Felix weren’t that different at all. 

Both were tall and slender, both had the same thin nose and eyebrows. They shared their sarcastic humor, their passion for clothes, their respect and care for each other. Even in their bluntness they were the same, though Felix spiced his with a scoff and a bit of rudeness.

Their relationship truly was miraculous to witness.

“Done.” Felix announced his return and went back to his seat. “Mum, you have lipstick on your cheek. And your neck.”

Evelyn gasped and fumbled with her napkin to remove the red smudge.

“O-Oh? Really? Clumsy me, must have gotten there when I paired the makeup and outfits for next week’s photoshoot.”

Was that just her or did Evelyn look a bit too embarrassed? Just when Marinette decided to ignore it, a door opened and a dark skinned woman with short hair peeked inside.

“Miss, you’re 15 o’clock call is waiting.”, she informed Evelyn and gave Marinette and Felix an apologetic smile. 

With lips that wore red lipstick. 

Lipstick that looked suspiciously similar to the smudges on Evelyn’s skin. 

“I regret the intrusion, but it’s important.”

“Of course, right away!”, Evelyn replied dutifully, turning to Marinette. “This is Cordelia, my assistant. Sorry to bail on you now, but work’s calling.” 

Still trying to get rid of the quite obvious traces of lipstick on her neck, she followed Cordelia through the door.

“I hope I’ll see you around, Marinette! Felix, don’t forget your lessons later. Have fun you two!”

And off they were.

Surprised, Marinette turned towards Felix.

“Was that... Are they...?”

“Not officially.” Felix shrugged. “But the word “subtle” does not register in my mother’s vocabulary, so... yes.”

He walked towards the stairs and gestured her to follow. 

“They want to keep it secret from me, in case I need time to adjust.” he informed her, before giving her a sly little grin. “Little do they know, it was me who set them up with each other.”

Marinette snorted.

“For real now?!”

“Of course.”

The room Felix lead her to was obviously his own, but the sheer difference from the rest of the house startled Marinette. It was small and tidy, white walls, bedsheets and lamps dominating the room. A few books were stacked on his desk and a black violin case stood in the corner, but a few pictures and green succulents aside, there were no knickknacks or decorations. The notebook with his poems rested on his bed, the sheets around it wrinkled as if someone had laid there after making the bed. 

She wondered if Felix liked to stay on his bed for a while after getting up, writing down what went through his head before all sleepiness faded. Did he write something new, just this morning? Maybe even about her?

“Marinette?”, Felix asked and she realized she’d stared at him. 

“Oh, yes? Sorry, I spaced out.”

She felt her cheeks warm up. 

“The room is very... you.”

Felix blinked and hurried to look somewhere else.

“Do... Do you like it?”, he asked with feigned casualness. 

She looked around again, over the room that looked so impersonal at first glance. Then at the wrinkled sheets. The notebook. The well cared for plants, the pictures on the wall and the books that had been read so often their pages started to look yellow.

She smiled.

“I love it.”

-

Lila was careful. She waited until half past 15 o’clock until she called Madame Leanne, knowing full well she wouldn’t answer the phone now. Her number, she’d taken from the pictures of Felix’ calendar.

“This is Evelyn’s private phone, for business calls please contact my assistant. Otherwise, leave a message after the tone!”, chirped an energetic voice and Lila prepared herself.

“Hi!”, she cooed as soon as it peeped. “This is Lila Rossi, I’m the class representative and a good friend of your son, Felix. I wanted to speak to you personally about some matters regarding his situation in our school, but if you’re not available now, maybe I could come over later? Felix gave me the address, it won’t be a problem. It’s really important. Thank you in advance, see you later!”

She hung up, her smile widening. Not leaving her a chance to decline was crucial, as her lies were most effective when she could see her target face to face. 

But once that was the case, Evelyn Leanne would be a piece of cake.

And Felix would have no choice but to give her a chance.

-

“Can I ask you something?”

Felix shrugged.

“You do so all the time. I haven’t figured out a way to stop you yet.”

She chuckled.

“It’s impossible, Alya already tried and failed. But seriously now, it’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”

He straightened and nodded, so she went ahead.

“Earlier, when you left... Your mother said that there was a problem at your first fashion show. Involving another model.”

She noticed his shoulders stiffen.

“There’s tons of problems at every show.” he mumbled and she wondered if this was a good idea. Still, she couldn’t turn back now.

“Did... Was the other model Adrien?”

He stood up so fast the couch shook.

“Is that all you ever ask about?”, he snapped. “Adrien this, Adrien that, he’s oh so perfect and can do no wrong! Can you take off your rose colored lenses for one minute and think about something - anything! - else than obsessing over Agreste?!”

-

Felix regretted it as soon as he said it. He didn’t know why he said it in the first place, his head clouded by undirected anger and hurt and the instinct to run. The best defense is the offense, he knew, completely forgetting that this was Marinette; that she wasn’t the one he needed to protect himself from.

But now the words were out, and he could see exactly how shock and pain twisted her face into an angry grimace.

She had jumped back at his sudden outburst, but quickly took a step forward and bore her index finger into his chest.

“Stop yelling at me!”, she snarled, hurt worse than she’d like to admit. “Contrary to what you and Alya seem to believe, my world does not revolve around Adrien! And if your petty grudge against him is why my crush on him is a problem, it’s definitely yours, not mine!”

She stepped back, chin raised and hand clenched to fists at her side.

“I told you you don’t have to answer, and I asked because I want to understand you, and that includes whatever happened that day, and your dislike of Adrien. So either tell me you don’t wanna talk or explain it to me, but you have no. Damn. Right to talk to me like that!”

She grabbed her purse and wanted to storm off, but his voice stopped her before he even realized he’d opened his mouth.

“Wait”, he asked stifled, all aggression faded from his voice. She turned around. He couldn’t look at her, eyes locked on the floor in beneath her feet, lips pressed together in a tight line. Hurt and Anger were faint memories now, his chest constricted by shame. What had gotten into him?

“I’m sorry.”, he pressed out, trying to keep his voice calm and failing miserably. “That was unfair, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.”, she said, but without any fervor behind it. 

“I like you.”, Felix blurted out in panic, still not able to look at her. Was she angry? God, what if he’d made her cry? “You’re important to me, and I don’t want to lose you.”

If he had ruined this just because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut about Agreste... 

“I shouldn’t have said that.”, he repeated, wishing he could turn back time and slap himself before hurting his first and closest friend. “It’s not true that you’re obsessed with him, and I-I don’t know what possessed me to lash out like that.”

God knows he didn’t get what she saw in Agreste, but she had told him that in confidence; she had trusted him with something this personal, and he’d used that against her. If their roles were reversed, he wasn't sure if he would’ve even sticked around to yell at her. He only knew that if she left now, she’d never look at him like before and he wouldn’t be able to bear that.

“Please don’t go.”

When she didn’t move, he slowly dared to look up. She stood in the doorframe, body facing him but head turned away. Her hunched shoulders and tense frown filled him with anxiety, but when she turned to look at him, her eyes were calm.

“Okay”, she said and relieve made him dizzy. “Okay.”

-

“What did my mother tell you already?” Felix asked, his voice steadier now. They sat on the couch again, Marinette with crossed legs and Felix with his usual posture. He was still more tense than usual, she noticed.

“Not much”, she answered honestly. “Just that she put high exactions on you, another boy messed up and you took the harm of it. She blames herself.”

He shook his head.

“She does that often, but she’s wrong. It wasn’t her fault.”

He sighed, slumping a bit.

“I... I want to take over the company one day. I’m not good at designing, but I’m interested in marketing and business economics. As CEO, I wouldn’t do much of the designing myself anyway, but rather take care of the business side. My mother supports me, of course, but she thinks it’s too early to get me involved. Wants me to enjoy my childhood and so on.”

Marinette listened attentively, resting her chin on her hands.

“My parents divorced last year.”, Felix continued, his voice growing bitter. “Don’t know what took them so long, my father is an asshole. Only cares about his own image, and what kind of scandals he can milk for profit. He’s... He had his issues about the divorce, just wouldn’t accept it. Mum had a restraining order against him in progress, and the security she hired had strict orders to not let him near me.”

He fidgeted.

“During the divorce, he used to... forgo recommended ways of behaving towards a child. And even before, he was dismissive at best.

“When I had my first show, I made Mum promise me to involve me more in the company if I did well. I had already worked with Adrien a couple of times, and thought it wouldn’t be a problem.”

So her suspicions had been correct: Adrien had been the other model. And that Felix had accidentally used his first name implied that he’d liked Adrien back then, maybe even thought of him as a friend.

“And the first half went well, really. I knew my dad had wanted to be the journalist reporting about it, but Mum had my back and the security did their job. During my second walk... he barged in anyway. Started to shout at my Mother in the first row, and I just... froze.”

He wasn’t looking at her, eyes locked on his own hands.

“He took a lot of pictures, despite the security dragging him out. Of me, looking admittedly horrified. Of Mum looking angry, and of how I ran out. Not only did I ruin the show, he made up stories about how the great Evelyn Leanne mistreated her son, used him for publicity and who knows what else.”

A bitter laugh escaped him, not reaching his eyes.

“It didn’t last long, of course. Our lawyers stomped him into the ground, he lost his job at the newspaper and our reputation recovered. But the damage was done.

“Our company lost much value for a while. Mum went through a lot, before we were exonerated. And my reaction and withdrawn behavior afterwards convinced her that I wasn’t ready for more responsibilities, that I needed normalcy and support. She didn’t  mean to punish me for how I acted then, of course. Just to protect me. She’s not at fault.”

His face turned sour and Marinette braved herself, already expecting his next words.

“Agreste is.”

He closed his eyes in something akin to resignation.

“He let my father in, through the private entrance. I told him how I feel about my father, but all it took was some “I just want to make things right” bullshit from him to convince Adrien I was wrong.”

Marinette opened her mouth to defend him, more out of habit than conviction, but stopped herself. What did she want to say, anyway?

What excuse could she make that actually worked out? 

“I... I’m sorry.”, she said instead. She couldn’t think of anything else. All she knew was that Felix was hurt, and he trusted her enough to show it, and she had no idea how to help. No idea how to show him she cared.

So she remained quiet and nudged his leg with her knee, just how he had done earlier that day. Their silent way of support.

He didn’t speak, but his hand tentatively grasped hers, as if not sure how. She squeezed it lightly, watching his profile. 

Calmer now. Relieved, almost.

He squeezed back.

-

They sat like that for a while, not speaking as Marinette processed his words, and he processed his inner turmoil. 

Felix wasn’t good at that.

He didn’t face his own feelings. He figured out which were productive and acted on them, then found a way to work around the rest. Easier that way. More efficient.

But it had been convenience or his friendship with Marinette, so he had had to swallow the bitter pill and hope for the best. And... this was the best possible outcome he could think of. 

In retrospect, he didn’t know what he had been afraid of in the first place. This was Marinette.

The girl who stood up for him when no one would listen.

The girl who’d rather risk being labeled a thief than keep something from a boy she’d barely exchanged a word with. 

The girl he could joke with and talk to, without feeling pressured to perform.

The girl he loved more than- Wait.

He stumbled over his own thoughts, his mind coming to a screeching halt. 

Where did that come from?

When did this happen?

He shook his head, trying to shake the thought off.

He was under-socialized. He was interpreting too much in this feeling. He just didn’t have enough experience with friendship. There was no way he-

Marinette, seeing him shake his head, quickly pulled her hand away and he found himself grasping for it again, holding onto her and the feeling of warmth she radiated. He froze mid movement.

Oh.

Oh.

He loved her. He wanted to hold her hand, and he wanted to be close to her, and now that he thought about it, kissing her didn’t sound so bad either. Oh no. Oh crap.

He’d messed up. His first real friendship, and he went and fell in love. 

What was he supposed to do? Should he tell her? Oh hell no. No, no, no. 

Maybe this was more of a passing infatuation? 

He threw a hesitant glance at her, just to see her smile at him.

Nope. 

Definitely not going away that quickly.

He didn’t know what to do. Wasn’t prepared. Mum had told him more about love than he’d liked to hear at the time, but now he couldn’t remember a single thing. All he could think of was that his mother had been friends with his father for years, fallen in love with him, and now hated his guts. 

What if he’d hate Marinette eventually? What if she would hate him? She was in love with Agreste, wasn’t interested in him that way, what if she-

“Are you okay?”, she asked him, blissfully unaware of the thoughts racing through his mind. 

“I’m not sure”, he answered honestly.

She bit her lip, and the idea of kissing her came back to the forefront of his mind. Not now!

“I’m not sure either.”, she confessed. “But I’m happy you told me. I meant what I said earlier. You can be hard to read from time to time, and I really want to understand you. And.. now I do that a little more. And can support you when you need it. So... that’s something, right?”

Felix took a deep breath.

She was right, more so than she knew. This might not be an easy realization, nor a convenient one. But... he liked the feeling of holding her hand. The feeling when he thought about her, or when she looked at him like this. It felt... good.

And maybe that would change, for the better or for the worse. But for now... it was something.

And that was enough.

- - -

@crazycookie13o @a-6-yearold-inside @sinfulfoxbeast @kuroko26 @sternsneeze @zeyheartstaylor @elliecake5 @kristycocopop @yamadochie @sofmimis @enigmaticagitator @offically-over-it @earth-demon @juhavs @omgelisahagemanuniverse @owllover132 @kaydenth3gayden @janaikam @mewwitch @bluerosette23 @fanboy7794 @slytherin-batbitch @fanatic-kay @shadowberrybinch @salty-r-a @loosescrewslefty @im-here-for-the-content @lexysama @anonymouse-thoughts @chxtons @ilseofskadi @fafik7 @bloody-no-kissu @himevampirechan @goldenmoonbeam @chrismarium @akiyukiko @heaven428 @magnitude101999 @jazzybabycakes @edith-of-the-moon 

[iggy-of-fans]

Finally there. The last chapter. The epilogue. The long awaited finale with a Raven redemption, Adrian's story, reactions and a lot of fluffy fluff! Over 3000 words for this.

LIFE GOES ON

Bruce stood at his window, overlooking the rose garden in the backyard, gathered with everyone except Damian and Marinette. There was a strong sense of anticipation in the room. As Bruce looked about him, some of the Kwami zooming around the room, he thought back to the events three years ago. Guardian Angel officially joining the Justice League, the great battle of Gotham, and returning of teenage renegade to Paris. He still got chills when he remembered Agreste's statement of events.

The room was quiet for a moment as Adrien tried to think of where to begin. He stared at the ceiling.

"It starts a year before Hawkmoth first appeared. My mother and father and I lived happily together, father was busy at work, but we were all very happy. Sometimes I would hear them shouting, but it would turn to moans not long after, and father told me when I asked once that mother just needed to be loved properly. Then mother disappeared and father searched furiously for her, until eventually she was proclaimed as dead. Father became distant, and I rarely ever saw him except if I messed up or something. So I tried to be the perfect son, but I wanted some freedom, friends, to fall in love like all my animes. I snuck out of the mansion to go to school, and almost made it in when I saw this old man needed help. So my father's assistant caught me and brought me home. But there was a box on my table, and with it I became Chat Noir. I thought Ladybug was my soulmate because how could we not be? Then my father agreed to let me go to school and I became friends with Marinette and Nino and Alya and my childhood friend Chloe was there too. It was perfect. I was a hero, I had friends, I had a soulmate. But Ladybug was always turning me down, and she was allowed to choose more heroes, and she refused to have any fun. And then Lila Rossi transferred and she liked to tell tall tales, but she wasn't hurting anyone. Marinette was just being too hard on her, too stubborn. If she'd just let it go, just played nice, she would've been fine. Lila would eventually get tired of it all. I always had her back and she knew that. Her 14th birthday, Lila told me about Marinette's love for me. Marinette was supposed to wait for me and we would have a magical night. I found her a ways away, and thought she'd just gotten sick of waiting for me, but I made it up to her and brought her home. But two nights later, the police swarmed our home, and were shouting about my father being Hawkmoth, which is impossible, because he was Akumatized! And I was taken in, because Chat Noir was being accused of rape! And Nathalie was supposed to be Mayura! And none of that made sense! So I tried to have them find Marinette, because she would be able to clear everything up. Three days went by when Ladybug showed up, carrying Marinette's dead body to the police. She had a video of my classmates hurting her, hurting Marinette. And she had the power to fix her and didn't. I was devastated. Then Marinette appeared to me. She was as real and bright as ever. She wanted to be with me. And I wanted to create the perfect world for her. Our class would all be friends, Chloe would be nice to her, and Lila would be her best friend, and Marinette would be Ladybug instead. My mother and father would be happy and together forever, and they would love Marinette just as much as me. Marinette was the one who planned everything and told me what to do. But I knew no one else saw her. But I did as she told me, because once I made my wish, nothing bad would ever happen to her again" Adrien spoke with passion in his voice, but his eyes never met theirs.

Batman and Wonder Woman's eyes met. This wasn't their first rodeo with the mentally unstable.

"Do you feel any remorse at all, knowing that those lives you took will forever remain dead?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Ladybug is the only one guilty. She could bring them back if she wanted to."

"The ladybug powers do not work like that. My mother was once a Ladybug. She needs to absorb the negative energy of a magical attack, like with the Demon, and she uses that to rebuild the world. She can not create or bring back life or heal, because when she does it, she is merely absorbing the darkness from their bodies. Otherwise there would never have been ill in Paris. The dead would have risen everyday. Can you not see that? " Wonder Woman asked.

" Marinette would never lie to me" Adrien stated. He was looking to his side, smiling softly. Wonder Woman was especially concerned that he saw her still, even while under the influence of the rope of Hestia, which should break through every delusion.

The interview concluded, it was decided that Adrien Agreste would serve life in a French Asylum, without bail. When his family was contacted, his father was emotionless, his mother just disinterested. She'd always known he'd be just like his father.

Bruce came back to the present when Damian and Marinette walked onto the scene below. Her 18th birthday was just around the corner, and they were planning a family party for her in that very garden. But Damian had asked for a sem-private moment with her. Knowing they'd all find a way to spy on them anyways, he'd told them to just watch from the office. Damian had grown up a lot since meeting Marinette. He was still chaos impersonate, still the calm before the storm and determined beyond anyone else his age. But he was also considerate of other people, he didn't lash out as quickly or as violently. He took the time to get to know his brothers better, and he showed his gratitude to them in small ways, like remembering their favorite bands and buying concert tickets, or simply sitting with them after a rough mission instead of dealing with it alone. The family was closer than ever before. So Bruce smiled with hope when he watched Damian kneel in the grass.

Dick watched as Damian walked into the garden, speaking quietly with his "Angel". She'd grown into a beautiful young woman, her scars had healed, both physically and emotionally with the constant presence of Damian at her side. He proved his love to her with every word he spoke, with every comforting hug. He truly always had her back and there was nothing the youngest Wayne wouldn't do for Marinette. Even forgiving Raven.

Nightwing and StarFire took Raven back to Star City, where they had built a special cage built in case Trigon ever sent his sons to do his bidding. Placing Raven inside, Nightwing paced. He still remembered Guardian Angel's expression as she fell, thinking that it had been Damian. More than that, he remembered watching as Raven ruthlessly ripped the earrings out of Marinette's ears, or the sick smirk on her face. He paced some more, ignoring Korri's worried looks. When Raven started stirring he walked in, expression cold as he stared down at the petite girl. Once, he would have been happy to call her sister. Now though.

"What happened?" Raven asked, looking at the cage around her. His frown deepened.

"How dare you?" he hissed, the snake miraculous still gleaming around his wrist. He was usually the one to enforce the "no kill" rule the strongest amongst the family, but he could feel the temptation to strongly. Raven furrowed her brow, trying to remember what had happened to get her locked up, but could remember nothing past Damian walking into the ballroom with a girl on his arm. She'd remembered feeling slightly crushed that her crush seemed to have moved on, but the next she knew, everything went dark. Now here she was, in a cage to hold her brothers. What had she done?

"What…. What have I done?" Raven asked, her voice pleading. Nightwing felt his anger rise even more. How dare she sit there, looking innocent. He couldn't believe anything she said or did, because really, who would turn so willingly on her teammates. Who would abandon their friends in mid battle and turn around and kill one of them. He didn't believe the innocent act at all. Korri placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to step in front of him but he wouldn't budge, glaring with all the hatred an older brother could feel.

"Damian had just walked in with the new member of the Justice League. I was sad, because… Well, you know I have a crush on him. But then things got dark, and I heard someone saying something, like a whisper. I thought I passed out. What happened?" she asked again. Nightwing was still not buying it. He felt his hackles rise, wanting to get her to confess.

"And you just expect me to believe that?" he growled, his muscles tensing.

"Nightwing! We know how powerful Trigon is! He only just escaped, we have no idea if he left a mark on her!"

"we also know that Raven is more powerful than that. She has him captured. Is it so wrong to believe she just snapped?" Nightwing snapped at Korri, the image would forever haunt him.

"What?" Raven was so confused. Korri wasn't much better, since she had been on the other side of the battle, and with second chance, no one else remembered anyways. Perhaps we should call WonderWoman here" Korri suggested calmly, trying to settle the tension in Nightwing's shoulders. Nightwing wanted to just throw the cage into a deep hole and never look at her again.

A Portal suddenly opened behind them and Robin stepped through. His fox transformation had long worn off, but Nightwing knew he still had it on him. However, instead of turning on Raven and tearing into her, he turned to Nightwing and held out his hand.

"Guardian Angel I'd worried about your emotional stability right now. Hand over the Miraculous before you do something that will haunt you as much as whichever image makes you so angry now. The ability to fix or change a situation can corrupt even the purest of souls, and you haven't been tested to be a permanent holder." Nightwing didn't even twitch, keeping his arms crossed and his face in a scowl. Nobody would even remember if he slid his finger over the bracelet.

"Please Richard. You do not want that on your conscience" Robin pleaded, his face softening into understanding. And really, who other than Robin, and maybe Red Hood, would understand better? He sighed and reached for the bracelet.

"Transform me" he mumbled, and a blue light went up under his other suit. Sass flew right through the portal, a blue blur trying to get away. Nightwings shoulders hunched. He was no better than that blonde idiot and his friends. Robin grasped the Miraculous and reached his other hand on his shoulder. "No one knows what you do about this battle, Richard, though Guardian Angel has a guess she won't share. What you saw was one outcome, one possibility of many, and you prevented the worst. But you are not all knowing about people, and the Justice League has wrongfully confronted Raven once before. Let Wonder Woman question Raven, and take comfort that no matter her answer, it is the truth."

" when did you get so wise, baby bird?" Nightwing whispered, finally relaxing his posture completely.

" Angel told me most of what I should say before I came through. The rest…. I've just had some good influences in my life, I guess"

Nightwing smiled and Robin stepped back through the portal to Gotham. A few minutes later, Wonder Woman stepped through her own.

"Agreste?" Nightwing asked.

"Still in surgery. Oracle said she'd monitor him for me and send me back in time for the questioning. Now, Guardian said you needed my help?" Korri nodded.

"I'm afraid we can't just accept her word at face value right now. We have no idea if what she's saying is true."

Wonder Woman nodded and sent the Rope of Hestia through a breathing hole. Raven easily picked it up and wrapped it around her wrist multiple times and looked up.

" What is the last thing you remember?" Wonder Woman asked.

" We were all in the ballroom, and Damian came walking in with the new girl. He looked so calm and happy and kept staring at her. I was choking a little bit. I'd had a crush on him since he first came to the tower, and… I just wanted to get some fresh air. I couldn't breathe properly and my head was starting to hurt. I kept hearing whispering, and I just thought some of the guests had noticed, but then I just blacked out. I came to and I was in this box" Raven stated, looking concerned. Oracle decided to find footage of the ballroom.

"Found her. Here come Damian and… Raven just grabbed her head. She is shaking it slightly. I'm picking up a rusty red glow from the jewel in her head. And she's back. She changes her outfit around the time Wonder Woman starts talking. But otherwise, there's no change" Oracle dictates over the comms.

"Can you please send Guardian through? We may need her to look at the jewel and drain it" Wonder Woman says. The comms are quiet for a while, before finally another portal opens. Guardian Angel comes through, followed closely by Robin with his katana drawn. Raven groans slightly and reaches for her head.

"Did I steal your sword?" she asks, her eyes wide and worried. Robin merely nodded before looking at his Angel. She takes a deep breath before walking up to the box.

"Please stand as close to grass as possible" she tells Raven. She's weary, and something is telling her not to, but Wonder Woman gives her a firm tug of the rope, and glares at her in warning. She crawls over to glass and shakily stands up, placing her forehead to the hold not with the rope through it. Guardian Angel raises her hand and places it over the glass on her side, and immediately a black aura tries to lash out at her. She flies back against the far wall, and Robin and Nightwing become defensive.

"NO! Get out of my head!" Raven yells, falling back to the ground and clutching her ears. Guardian Angel is on her feet immediately and rushes back, breaking the glass container. She clutches her hands around Ravens and whispers in an ancient tongue, the Guardian Language. A pink glow emanates from their forms and when it disappears, Guardian Angel is passed out, and Raven is barely hanging onto consciousness. The crystal that once held her father, a black diamond in her head, is now pink.

"He's gone!" Raven manages to whisper out, before passing out as well. Robin rushes to his Angel's side and quickly brings her through the portal back to Gotham, while the others all stare at Raven. Now what do they do?

Dick remembered how Raven struggled with her magic after that. It took her months to gain back control, as her father had been slowly corrupting it, and with it, Raven as well. But Marinette never held her in contempt, like Dick had. She forgave her and helped her heal, and Damian meditated with her to help as well. Raven was now Marinette's best friend, and she wholly agreed that she was better off with Tim, who had been by her side, analyzing her magic capability. Their family had grown so strong from her forgiving and kind nature. He smiled as he tuned back in to see Marinette throw herself into Damian's embrace.

Tim was so happy, watching his little brother and his future-sister-in-law on the lawn. The past three years had gone by quickly, with Damian growing up into a strong, pure force for good. He looked down to Raven's smiling face, and knew she felt nothing but content, watching her sister in all but blood be so overcome with joy. Three years ago, no one would've thought that this would be the outcome after the exhausting battle and aftermath.

The destruction cleaned up, the villains in jail, Raven cleansed and only waiting to hear Agreste's story, Timothy couldn't quite rest yet. He went to the detention centre and asked to see the Parisian boys, to hear what they had to say. He'd come alone, but saw no reason for them to lie or try to fight. He still had his transformation going under his Red Robin suit, so he was confident he'd be okay.

"Max Kantê and Nino Lahiffe. I've come to take your statements" he said, funnelling as much authority as he could into his statements. The boys' heads snapped up from where they sat. Max gulped audibly, while Nino just looked exhausted. He nodded and sat up a bit.

"Why did you come to Gotham?"

"I wanted to warn Marinette. Max wasn't given a choice" Nino stated calmly.

"I believe from video evidence that Marinette is dead" Red Robin said. Nino just shook his head.

"I think a part of me always knew, but I just didn't want to think, at first, that one of my best friends would go swinging into danger like that. Then, after Lila joined, it was just easier to believe her. And she hated Marinette, so she couldn't be Ladybug. Ladybug carrying Marinette's body into the police station would've fooled most, but I just always had a feeling she wasn't completely gone. I just… Assumed I guess… " Nino tapered off, looking at Red Robin hopefully.

" Marinette Dupain-Cheng is dead" he shook his head. Nino's face fell and he looked at his hands. He shook and cried. He'd been against Alya's plan to attack Marinette, and hadn't been there. Maybe he could've stopped it. He thought that maybe that was why he'd come. A second chance to be a real friend.

Max looked lifelessly at Red Robin.

"My family was murdered by Adrien. I… I have nowhere to go." He finally managed to choke out. Red Robin nodded, aware of the atrocities committed in Paris.

"What do you want to happen? You both were the reason the Justice League was able to mobilize so quickly. From evidence gathered and statements from Cesaire, we were able to gather that neither of you ever did anything against the law or of your own free will. Kantê, as you said, your family is unable to take guardianship of you, and if you choose to return to Paris, you may be held in contempt from the public. Lahiffe, your family has been made aware, but they are currently speaking to Social Services, as they're scared for their other son's health and safety" Tim said.

"And if we stay here?" Max asked while Nino broke into a fresh wave of tears. He'd never be allowed near Chris again.

"... The Teen Titans have long asked for an Oracle of their own…" Red Robin tapered off, leaving the rest for them to interpret and think about," you'd be under house arrest for a while at least. But… You could do some real good there."

Max nodded after a moment and Nino did too, still too emotionally distraught to do much else. Red Robin smiled.

"You'll be moved to your new residence in a couple of weeks," he said, and turned and left as abruptly as he came.

Max Kantê, now known as Le Donnèes and Nino Lahiffe, now Sécurise, became an integral part of Teen Titan operations and training, often conferring with Oracle on large Justice League missions. It was easy to say that they'd become amazing heroes. Nino and Max were in Paris now, in fact, for the first time since leaving. Nino had earned his right to see his brother again, but didn't want to go alone. They'd been quite emotional when Marinette came to them the first time, and they'd become close friends once again. Things were far from perfect in the world, but right this moment, nothing at all could ruin this.

And done. I hope you enjoyed! I've been reading a lot salt and angst, and I wanted to get this out of my system, and maybe write another, more happy, one soon. I'm afraid there's no tag list for this because like an idiot, I forgot to write it out, but I'll try to add it in post haste

[steves-on-a-plane]

Two Roads Diverged

Title: Two Roads Diverged SONG FIC: The Day I Died - Five For Fighting Words: 2343 (2090 without lyrics) Pairing: Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter Author’s Note: This song came up under my suggested songs on Apple Music and as I listened to it, it just really gave me Steve and Peggy vibes. I wasn’t a huge fan of how Endgame tied up Steve’s story but as I wrote this, I took a linear look at his relationship with Peggy and it helped me understand that version of Steve a little bit better.

“Give me your coordinates. I’ll find a you a safe landing site.” The voice of Agent Margaret Carter ordered. The sounds came out muffled and crackling through the speaker on the plane’s console. That was 1940’s technology for you.

“There’s not gonna be a safe landing.” Captain Steve Rogers relayed regrettably from his seat in the cockpit. He fiddled with the plane’s controls. Steve was already strapped into the pilot’s chair and physically preparing for impact. “But I can try and voice it down.”

“I-I’ll get Howard on the line. He’ll know what to do.” Agent Carter insisted. Steve could hear the desperation in her voice, even through the cracking of the speaker.

“There’s not enough time.” Her told her, his voice never wavering. He told himself at the time that the level tone was for her sake, but the truth was it was just as much for his own. “This thing’s going down and it’s headed for New York.” There was dead air between them for several seconds before Steve laid out the only option. “I gotta put her in the water.”

“Please, don’t do this.” Agent Carter argued, sounding more desperate than Steve ever thought he’d live to hear. “We-we have time. We can work it out.”

“Right now, I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are gonna die.” Steve disagreed. He needed to make her understand that the didn’t have any time at all. “Peggy, this is my choice.” Silence managed to push its way into the conversation again as Steve tugged at the yolk of the plane. The aircraft dipped down into a full-on nosedive, its trajectory headed straight for the icy water below. Neither one of them could bare disconnect communication with the other. There was still so much left unsaid between them. Some many things they’d never share.

“Peggy?” The Captain’s voice finally cracked slightly as the yolk shook in his hands. Though he hoped she’d never be able to tell through the speaker on her end.

“I’m here.” She responded, already sounding very far off.

“I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance.” He said as his plane broke through the clouds. He was coming in fast. It wouldn’t be much longer now.

“Alright.” Peggy obliged, holding back tears. “A week next Saturday at the Stork Club. Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance.” He admitted. Trying to keep the conversation going. Again he convinced himself this was for her sake.

“I’ll show you how.” She promised. “Just be there.”

“We’ll have the band play something slow.” Steve agreed, the water felt only inches away now. “I’d hate to step on your…”

I woke up, you next to me. You said, “Good morning, are you free?” The sun crept in for one last time. I was alive the day I died. The clock struck noon but did not care.

No matter how much time passed, Steve couldn’t seem to shake the memories of that day. When he woke up thawed and miraculously alive sixty-six years later, he knew it couldn’t have been anything but divine intervention. It truly was a miracle to be alive, but Steve wasn’t so sure it was a good thing. Whether you called it fate, destiny, whatever, the same force that had brought Steve Rogers back to life was the same force that had forced him go in the first place.

It was just easier for Steve, who liked to think of himself as a simple man from a simpler time, to think of this force as God. And to Steve it seemed just so unfair that the same God who could curse him with so many childhood ailments could bless him with whatever it was that Dr. Erskine liked so much. The same God who brought the force of nature that was Peggy Carter into his life, could let the two of them be separated so absolutely. To the rest of America, the return of Captain America was a sign of good things to come, but to Steve it was a painful reminder of the man he’d never gotten to be.

Bzzzz. Bzzzzz. Steve looked at the mobile phone that vibrated across the desk in his room. The phone had been given to him by SHIELD Director Fury who had explained that landlines were as extinct in this time as he felt. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered the phone anyway. It wasn’t like anyone he knew would be calling.

“Hello?” A female voice called cautiously into his ear.

“Hello?” He questions back. “This is Steve Rogers. Who is this?”

“Captain, my name is Sharon. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call, but your condition was need to know and I wasn’t high enough on the chain of command. Anyway, I’m calling because I think my aunt would like to see you and I suspect you’d also like to see her again. You knew her as Peggy.” The woman on the phone explained.

I saw a child in my old chair. A shadow fell across your face, but all the years could not erase. I was alive. I was alive. You pulled me close. I held you tight. Though my smiles told a few lies, I was alive, the day I died.

Again, Steve found himself wondering how a God could bring him Peggy back, but not quite. Was this the curse he was destined to bare forever then? To always have what he wanted just out of reach? The love of his life was there with him but while Steve still looked the same Peggy had aged. She’d gone on and gotten married. She had a family, a life. For her it had been sixty-six years. It wasn’t her fault that to Steve it had felt like six minutes.

“You should be proud of yourself.” He told Peggy as he said by her bedside. He studied the photographs by her bedside at the nursing home. The Captain couldn’t help but think how lucky the man who’d been married to her must have been.

“Mmm.” Peggy hummed in agreement. “I have lived a life. My only regret is that you didn’t get to live yours. What is it?” She added, taking in his downcast expression.

“For as long as I can remember, I just wanted to do what was right.” He sighed, looking away from the photographs. “I guess, I’m just not quite sure what that is anymore.” Peggy laughed at him and Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He’d missed her laugh.

“You’re always so dramatic!” She commented between chuckles. “You saved the world. We rather mucked it up. The world has changed and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best. And sometimes the best that we can do, is to start over.”

I was the first to see a star. It seemed so close, it was so far. Wind started to roar. Screamed time to go. You know all you need. You know all you know. I was alive. I was alive. You pulled me close. I held you tight. And though our smiles told a few lies, I was alive the day I died.

She’s gone. In her sleep.

That’s what Sharon’s text had said. That was the message that Steve received to let him know that the love of his life had died. A simple five-word text. Steve looked around the room, the timing couldn’t have been worse. The Avengers were literally falling apart before his eyes. They were all there. Sam, Tony, Nat, everyone. Arguing over some bullshit restrictions that had no place even being considered in the first place. It was too much. But that was the future, or in this case the present. Everything was always too much too fast these days.

“I have to go.” Steve mumbled, getting up from his seat in the living room. He walked off without giving the others a chance to ask why. He was packed an on a plane to London within hours.

The service was everything one would expect from an international hero like Margaret Carter. Even down to the perfectly pitched choir of angelic singers. The family asked Steve to be a pallbearer and he was honored, even if they were just indulging an old man’s sentimentality. Sharon gave a moving eulogy and then it was over.

He was expected to just go on home. To pretend like the only person, he’d ever really loved wasn’t buried six feet under. He was expected to go back to New York and sign a bunch of documents saying that the government had the right to tell him and the others like him if, when and how they were allowed to save people. The entire thing didn’t sit right with Steve. He couldn’t stomach it, the entire idea of someone else being in control of his future.

Steve Rogers had let people tell him who he was his entire life. That ended today.

“Sometimes, the best we can do is to start over.” He whispered to himself. Steve Rogers had let people tell him who he was his entire life. That ended today. He was done being the monkey in the suit who danced when they called. Steve slipped out of the church and disappeared from the public eye for three years.

Oh, Sweet Angel you call. Oh, Sweet Angel you call. Oh, Sweet Angel. White went black. Black went white. Universe cracked. I saw the light. You called my name. I did not respond. But I heard you well, carried you on.

“You have to return the stones to the exact moment we got ‘em or you’re gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities.” Dr. Banner explained to Steve. He flicked open the briefcase where all six infinity stones were housed.

“Don’t worry Bruce,” Steve closed the briefcase solemnly. “Clip all the branches.”

“You know if you want, I could come with you.” Sam offered.

“You’re a good man Sam, but this one’s on me though.” Steve nodded and took in one last look at his friend before turning to Bucky.

Buck had been Steve’s friend forever. They’d survived almost a century together. The world had changed around them and dragged the pair kicking and screaming along with it. There were no secrets between them and Buck knew, even if Rogers didn’t, this was the last time they’d be seeing each other. At least as they both were then.

“Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” Steve echoed the last worlds Bucky had said to him before shipping out back during WWII.

“How can I.” Bucky shook his head, recounting Steve’s response from ‘The good ‘ol days.’ Back when the worst-case scenario didn’t involve time traveling aliens who could wipe out half the population with a single snap. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” They shared a hug that expressed more than either had ever said allowed to the other. “I’m gonna miss you buddy.” Buck whispered as they separated.

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy.” Steve promised. With a final reassuring pat on the shoulder he walked away and stepped on to the time machine.

Midnight came and I was gone. The planet shrugged and moved along. A few people noticed and sang my songs. I was alive the day I died. I was alive the day I died.

Returning the Infinity Stones hadn’t exactly been easy. Even with the ability to travel forward or backwards with time as needed Steve found that getting the timing just right, took a little bit of practice. He didn’t have a way of recording how long the job had taken him, but he knew he was done when he opened the briefcase to find no more Infinity Stones and one final Pym Particle, his ticket home.

Home. He chuckled to himself. He’d never really felt at home anywhere or anytime. Growing up he’d been a scrawny kid from Brooklyn who never quite knew when enough was enough. During the war he was a puppet. Back when his uniform was still a costume and the closest he got to being a hero was punching a fake Hitler in the jaw three times a night. After the ice He was an eighty-eight year old man trapped in a twenty-something’s body. There was no stopping things after that. The music was too loud, and cars moved too fast.

He’d missed so many things he’d never be able to catch up on. America in the twenty first century had never really been his home. He looked down at the Pym Particle in his hand wondering if he dared. There’d be no going forward or back. That was the last one. He’d have to get the timing just right, because he was going to be stuck whenever time he landed.

Despite his best efforts to live in the present, he’d spent most of his life looking back with regret. Regret that he hadn’t been able to tell her back them when the timing was right. Regret that he hadn’t listen that day. That he hadn’t let her get Howard on the line to work things out. Regret that he’d never gotten that dance with his best girl.

Hardening his resolve, Steve set the date on his time travel watch. It had been seventy-two years for him, but for her it would be less than seventy-two hours. He’d show up with a bouquet of flowers even though flowers weren’t quite her thing. This was a special occasion and she’d understand that. He’d apologize profusely for missing their date and then before she had a change to say another word, he’d get down on one knew and ask her to be his gal forever.

I woke up, you next to me. You said “Good Morning, are you free?” The sun crept in for one last time. I was alive the day I died.

Disclaimers: All the bold text are song lyrics, and there is quite a bit of dialog pulled from MCU movies so if you reconize it, chances are its probably from The First Avenger, Winter Soldier, Civil War or End Game.  

[wickednerdery]

The Three Musketeers [FanFic]

Title: The Three Musketeers Author: @wickednerdery​ Pairing: Reid/Ethan/Lil Foyet(friendship), Barbossa, Pintel & Ragetti Rating: Teen/Mature Summary: When best friends Spencer Reid, Ethan Bellamy, and Lil Foyet work together to get one over on a patron at a Tortuga tavern they all get more than they bargained for. Notes: Right, so this piece is almost 10 years old, lol! But some y’all wanted to read my Criminal Minds/Pirates of the Caribbean crossover stuff so here’s the first piece; it’s something of a prologue to a larger story I was working on and takes place well before the first movie. (Notes of characters at the end.) There’s some violence and adult themes involving children, also it’s WAY longer than most pieces I write nowadays lol!

“It be too late to alter course now, mateys!” ~ Barbossa, PoTC:Curse of the Black Pearl

Little Spencer Reid was a scrawny boy of eight with greasy hair that fell into his eyes as he spun his head this way and that making sure no one was watching too closely. This was his job in the crew, given to him by Ethan who promised it was the least dangerous one there was. So far that had held true. This stuff always made the boy nervous nevertheless, but they were starving and without money to pay so what choice did they have? That and the other two stressed that it wasn’t exactly stealing, per say, if the person was too drunk or otherwise busy to take care in keeping an eye on their goods. Ethan snapped up some bread and rum from the sailors in the tavern who were too busy with their company for the night before he saw the jackpot. Set beside the dark boots of an imposing man was a basket containing apples. Good apples, ones ripe and ready for eating. The temptation was too much, but Ethan wasn’t about to just grab and dash…he was smart, he always examined, staked out, a target first. This target, the man with the bushel of fresh apples, was imposing even while sitting. A large hat kept much of his face in the shadows, but Ethan could see a bushy beard and long, dark, auburn hair held back loosely with a strip of leather. He was significantly older and it looked like the years at sea had already begun to ravage the man leaving scars and sunspots about the face and body. Still, he was a finely dressed man and wealthy enough to keep the monkey on his shoulder dressed better than most those Ethan saw on the island itself. The teen boy slipped past the man onto where his other crewmember, Lil, leaned by a post keeping watch as well. She turned her face to him and arches a brow. “Well?” “I need ya,” Ethan said simply before drawing the young girl’s gaze to the man with the apples. “On it faster than he’ll be on me,” she teased a touch before giving Ethan a kiss to the cheek and heading over to the man and his monkey. Like the boys Lil had grown on the island of Tortuga the child of a pirate and a woman…in her case a whore already dead at the hands of a jealous lover. Whether from guilt or just plain pity the madam allowed the small girl to live in the brothel even after her mother’s murder. So Lil was raised in brothels and even at ten capable of working seduction skills enough to catch the eyes of drunken sailors and distract them for Ethan to steal. That was how it all worked. Little Spencer kept a sharp eye, she a tempting manner, and Ethan a fast hand. They’d done this all long enough to avoid capture when working together and, for Ethan and Lil, to have no real fear in it. Only Spencer held the fear, just as only he held the knowledge of the immorality of the behavior. Ethan watched as Lil sauntered over to the man, shifted herself into his eye-line, and held his gaze with stormy eyes and teasingly quirked lips. There was always something strange about Lil; how she carried herself, demanded and got attention from all those around her. She was a force and even at twelve Ethan knew she’d only become more so as she developed into a woman. It was as frightening as it was exhilarating. The young man’s gaze then trailed to his frail runt of a friend still loyally keeping lookout for all of them. Spencer was the virtual opposite. Small, meek, and ever unsure in his steps the eight-year-old was more of a comfort to Ethan than anything exciting. Spencer kept him and Lil anchored to their abilities, stabilized in their emotions, and reigned in from their impulses. Altogether Ethan imagined they were a complete person – heart, mind, and guts – and without the other two he wasn’t sure any would truly survive. Ethan turned back to the target with his monkey and waited until he got the signal from Lil (a thrumming of fingers on the wooden table) before he tucked his frame in the shadows of swinging lanterns and jostling bodies to snap up the booty. He stuffed a small bag kept on his hip with apples before grabbing one more in hand. He moved out in the next rowdy crowd that passed and headed towards Spencer with a grin, showing off the apple in his hand. The monkey’s shriek came first, then a string of curses from its owner and a shot from a gun. “RUN!!” Lil screamed to her boys as she grabbed a knife up off the table and slashed at the target. The man cursed, struck out, and knocked the girl to the floor. “Ethan?” young Spencer’s eyes became saucers as his older friend started a full dash to him. “Run!” Ethan grabbed Spencer’s arm and the two boys began to move as fast as their legs could carry them out into the crowd that was the streets of Tortuga. Spencer could barely keep up, tripping over his own legs and those of others. “Ethan, what…” he couldn’t get the words out as his friend began to virtually drag him. “Ethan…Lil…” What had become of their third party? Had the man gotten her? Was she okay? Ethan took a sharp turn, grabbing hold of a fruit cart and pulling it down as he did. The curses from the vendor followed them, but what was more important was that sounds of a scuffle did as well. The man with the monkey was now busy arguing with the vendor. At the second shot heard young Reid let out a squeak of nerves. He wanted to eat, yes, but not get shot in the process. The fact that Ethan only seemed to enjoy this, the danger of the chase, just made him more nervous. “Ethan…Ethan, maybe we should, uh, just give the apples back and…beg pardon?” The older boy pulled the younger into an alleyway and dropped his voice low. “Men who shoot first and ask later don’t pardon, Spencer.” “Wha-what about Lil, Ethan?” The older boy almost smiled. “Lil can care for herself, Spencer, you know that.” “But –“ “I think he’s a pirate,” Ethan’s adrenaline had already forced a switch of topics. “A proper one?” As opposed to those lowlifes who boasted without ever making good that littered Tortuga in greater numbers than the whores. Ethan nodded. “The only way we get out of this is to run, hide, or try and parley.” “But…we’re not pirates.” “Not yet,” the older boy smirked some. Both boys had parentage in piracy, but only the elder wanted to carry on the legacy. Spencer Reid saw his father’s piracy as a form of abandonment; William Reid preferred theft on the high seas to his family and the youth had no interest in becoming like him. Spencer aimed to use his intelligence for good, to help others, and never to bring misfortune. The truth was he wasn’t comfortable stealing, or even keeping watch over Ethan and Lil when they did, but there weren’t many options being the only son of the Mad Woman of Tortuga. Ethan felt differently; the bastard son of pirate legend “Black Sam” Bellamy he wanted nothing more than to share in the life. He adored the stories he heard from the sailors, Navy and pirate alike, and hoped someday there’d be stories told about him. Being a pirate sounded thrilling and he could never understand how his friend saw it differently. While he had a set of morals, it was already skewed towards piracy. Young Bellamy did what he had to in order to survive, to thrive, and had ease about him when it came to the underhanded and devious. Spencer sighed some. “Can’t we just hide then? I can’t keep running like this.” He hadn’t the physicality of Ethan. “Fine, you hide,” Ethan pulled out a few of the apples and stuffed them into his friend’s pockets. “Keep these with you.” “Where are you going?” “We should spilt up anyway,” Ethan replied simply. The truth was Ethan sort of still wanted to continue the chase though. Hiding wasn’t his style except as a last resort. Spencer frowned, “Oh. Okay.” “Just…stay in the shadows and tuck yourself behind the pigs outside The Faithful Bride, okay?” It was where they usually met up at the end of the night if they didn’t spend all the hours of the day and evening together. “Aye.” Ethan smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you. You and Lil.” Spencer just nodded then watched as his friend dashed off out the other end of the alley. The small boy stayed hidden where he was for sometime before he began to take back routes to the pigsty, searching for their Lil as he did. *** Ethan took a few more sharp turns and random routes before he realized there was no one chasing him anymore. The young man let out a sigh that bordered on disappointment as he looked at the apple that, miraculously, had remained in his hand. He took a bite, savoring the juice that exploded into his mouth with the piercing of its skin before swallowing it down. The chase was over, time to enjoy the spoils. Ethan set his teeth into the apple again as he began to head out towards the water’s edge. He was half through the last alley and his apple when a dark figure appeared, blocking his way. Perched on the figure was the outline of a monkey that screeched at him angrily. Ethan froze a moment before he stepped back and turned on his heel to make another run for it. No dice this time as two others blocked his way. A tall, thin, fellow partnered with a stout one who held his pistol out and at the ready to fire. “It’d be unwise to make yer run, boy,” the monkey-man remarked just on the edge of amused. Ethan spun back. “Parley!” “Parley?” one of the two groaned behind him. The man before Ethan just laughed some as he began an unhurried approach to the teen. “Ye got no right to parley lest ye be a pirate, boy.” “Well, I am,” Ethan insisted stubbornly to the man he now realized was the leader of the crew. The moonlight caught blackened blood on the man’s face from Lil’s knife and Ethan stepped back with shaken nerves. “By birth, anyhow.” “’Ow’s that?” the skinny one spoke up almost curiously. Ethan’s back hit the stones of a building as the three pirates closed in. “My father is Black Sam Bellamy, surely you’ve heard of him.” The three men and one monkey looked at one another seeming to debate the lad’s truthfulness and their next step before the leader gave a cackle. “Right then boy, I’ll give ya the privilege of parley. Now what’s it ye need to say?” “I’d like to say it to the captain.” “I be him,” the man replied simply as his monkey grinned. “Captain Barbossa of the Cobra. Now…” Barbossa closed in on the thieving boy, made the oozing blood on his face something Ethan’s eyes couldn’t avoid as he brought a pistol up under the boy’s chin. “Speak!” Ethan shook under the hot, rageful, breath of the pirate captain, but spoke nevertheless. “I wanna join your crew.” It was the one thing he could think of that might prevent his death and finally get him what he always wanted…a chance to be a real pirate. The two men to his right seemed stunned, the monkey ticked its head in utter confusion, and Barbossa simply leaned back a touch to appraise the bold youth. “How old are ye, lad?” “Thirteen, sir. Captain. And I’m still growing.” In truth, from malnutrition and general poor living conditions, the twelve-year-old Ethan hadn’t even truly started growing. “I know plenty about ships and I learn fast. I’d make a good member of your crew. A loyal one too.” Barbossa considered the offer in silence as he continued his appraisal. True, the lad was slight in build, but being on the cusp of puberty and given enough food he had plenty of room to grow. Ethan’s fast hands and quick thinking could certainly be of benefit as well. “Ye ever worked a sword or pistol?” “No, Captain,” Ethan confessed with a touch of shame. “But I’ve fought by hand, with small blades, and won more than once. More than I’ve lost.” The monkey gave Ethan a smile that announced Barbossa’s decision before the man did. “Ye owe me payment for my apples and for the handy work of that lil’ lass o’ yers. You’ll work it off on my ship.” “Yes sir.” Then Ethan looked to the other two pirates before his eyes went to the bloody gash of the captain’s. “The…the girl…” “Yers, yes?” Barbossa smirked some. The boy avoided the question, worried what an answer could bring to Lil. “She alive?” The monkey heaved out the squeals of a laugh with the men. “She were when I left her,” Barbossa grinned out. The man hadn’t the time to trouble with the girl much beyond the slap. “Now, ye pay off yer debts…” Barbossa gave a wicked smile, “and we’ll see if ye ‘ave what it takes to be a true pirate after that.” “Aye Captain,” Ethan smiled back, not seeing the evil glint of Barbossa’s eyes through his own excitement. “I’ll do ye proud, I swear it.” *** Lil rolled herself under a table after the hit, playing possum until the coast was clear. The bar now emptied of her troubles the girl picked herself up off the floor and began to examine her state. Her straw-colored hair was more wild than usual, her hands red with pirate’s blood, and her cheek still stinging but otherwise she was fine. She’d live to fight another day without troubles or worry. After wiping her hands on the cloth bits that were her dress the girl grabbed an unattended bottle of run from a table and a lost apple off the floor before heading out of the tavern as she drank and ate. Whatever the boys might think, this was a victorious night in Lil’s book. The girl wandered for a bit, adjusting her posture to appear her most non-threatening and uninteresting in hunched shoulders and hung head. She swung the bottle back enough times that her legs grew unsteady as she approached their usual meeting spot, The Faithful Bride. There were no signs of her boys so she began to call out to them. “Spencer! Ethan!” A mop of scraggly hair poked up from behind a few of the pigs where they dozed in slop and their own filth. “Lil?” Reid’s voice mixed equal parts relief and concern. “Aye. Where’s Ethan?” The younger shrugged as he worked his way out to street where Lil remained, bottle and apple in hand. “He said he’d meet us here when he could. Are you okay?” As he got closer, out in the lights trickling from the bars and brothels around them, he could see the angry red handprint across Lil’s face. “I’m fine.” Lil had gotten far worse over the years and the pain still there was dulled by liquor now. “You get anything to eat?” “Oh, yeah,” Reid’s lips curled up a touch as if he remembered his pockets had been stuffed with his share of the apples. He pulled one out and started to eat. “What should we do now, Lil?” Lil finished her apple and tossed the core to the pigs before offering her friend some of the rum. The boy declined with a shake of his head to which the elder girl shrugged, drank some herself, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before finally answering. “I say we wait it out till dawn, then start searching.” “Okay.” Because Lil refused to sleep in the muddy shit of the pigs the two children tucked themselves in the doorway of a closed shop nearby. Lil laid herself across its length and had Spencer rest his head in her lap for comfort as he curled up into himself. Despite those instincts that told Lil her little friend was too weak to survive, that being rid of him would be the wiser thing for her to do, she kept him as close as she did Ethan. Something about the weedy boy was precious to her, something that went beyond his advanced intellect. It was his innocence, that purity of the soul he clung to even as those closest to him – Lil and Ethan – willingly discarded or had it torn from them bit by bit each day. She did not understand how or why Spencer held to it, but the fact he did fascinated her. The young girl began to run her fingers through Spencer’s hair as she hummed, then sang. “We extort and pilfer, we filch and we sack, drink me ‘earties, yo ho…” *** The morning brought nothing but sun and angry hollers from the shopkeeper for the little urchins to be gone from the front of his store. Too tired to do anything more Lil and Spencer left without argument and took to roaming the streets in search for any signs of the eldest of their crew. They came across none. Ethan had simply vanished in the night. When they reached the whorehouse where Lil stayed the girl offered Spencer a share in her tiny attic of a room, but the boy declined. He wanted to be home, to see if his mother was all right and if perhaps Ethan had somehow ended up there or at least left word somehow. “Lemme know if he did?” the girl requested as the sun lit up the colors of bruising on her cheek as it rose higher in the Caribbean sky. “Of course.” Lil smiled bright and bubbly a moment, then nodded a touch before heading inside. No one was waiting up for her, no one worried or cared. The morning crowd of exiting men simply walked around her as she made her way up to her straw heap of a bed to sleep. By the time Spencer reached home his mother was to ill to even speak with so the small boy took to wandering out in back of his shack of a house. There were no signs Ethan had stopped by in the middle of the night; the only sign of his best friend’s existence at all was Iggy, their shared pet iguana, relaxing in the shade of the foliage grown wild on the property. “Hey Iggy,” the eight-year-old noted with a frown as he settled onto the ground. The iguana seemed to sense one of its owners, or smelled the fruit, as he crawled out into the sun over to Spencer. “You seen Ethan?” The iguana made a gutteral noise in reply. “Thought not,” Spencer replied back before pulling out one of the apples and biting off a hunk. He took half into mouth and pulled the other half out to hold out to Iggy. The iguana snapped his jaw, taking the apple from the boy’s fingers. “Guess it’s just you and me now.” The iguana tilted his head some as he chewed. Reid sighed some already missing his friend deeply. Spencer only had two, Lil and Ethan, and now one was missing. He worried too…had Ethan been found? Had he been jailed or, worse yet, murdered over their group-effort theft? Lil didn’t seem concerned, but then she very rarely was. In all his years of knowing the girl Spencer couldn’t recall a single time she’d cried or even shown fear. Not when that drunken lout had tried to take her behind one of the taverns, not when she’d been whipped for stealing, and not last night when the monkey-man caught them. Spencer bit his lip, looked down some, and let his wavy locks fall into his face as he debated crying over the seeming loss of his friend, his best friend. He shook with the thoughts of it. Then he felt the rest of the apple being yanked from his possession. “Hey!” the boy snapped to attention as Iggy scurried away with the last of the trio’s prize. The last thing Ethan had given him, the last memory of his friend before the older boy vanished in the Tortuga night. Spencer wanted, needed, that last bit of apple back. “Stupid iguana! Stupid…blimey…bloody…” the boy cursed aloud as he made chase, tripping over rocks, roots, and his own feet in attempts to catch the animal. He skittered to a stop when the lizard dived into a hole in the dirt that the boy couldn’t follow him into. “You’re just like Ethan, ya thieving bastard! Stupid Ethan!” Exhausted and enraged the boy lay by the hole and began to cry. “Stupid Ethan,” he muttered, face and fists in the dirt, until he drifted off to sleep with the tropical sun beating down him. "Friends hold both the power to excel your life, or destroy it." ~ Adam Murphy

I took some of the background given to Barbossa in the books based on PoTC to use to my own advantage. Ethan is from Criminals Minds Season 2, Episode 18, “Jones” - I grew insanely attached to him, he ended up in many pieces lol - and Lil Foyet is an OC daughter of serial killer George “The Reaper” Foyet from Season 4-6 (mostly?) who’s also in my Criminal Minds Noir AU “Living for the Night” on my AO3.

Those Who May Be Interested: @lady-crowned-with-stars​ @chibiyanai​ @ultrarebelheart​ @holykryptonitekitten​ @darcee74​ @lareinedususpense​ @poetic-fiasco​ @star-spangled-pan-with-a-plan​ @dreatine​ 

[wings-of-indigo]

So, Waitress is closing and Why I am Happy about that: An Exceedingly long essay Rant about Broadway

Look. Nobody's gonna read this, most likely, but it's 2 in the morning and my brain's been obsessing over Broadway (more than usual, anyway) since communing with my people at intensive this week. So, in the interest of getting some sleep before 8 hrs of dance and shitty high notes tomorrow, here goes.

I love classic, high-school-and-community standard musicals. I love new and experimental musicals. I love Disney film-to-stage musicals. I love institution musicals like Chorus Line, Cats, and Wicked; I even have a soft spot for Phantom. I am eagerly anticipating West Side Story next Christmas (seriously, I have a calander).

BUT.

As I said to one of my fellow dancers during post-class stretch (after noting his insane flexibilty and making yet another resolution to stretch more) I am Sick to GoDAMnEd DEATH of revivals, franchise adaptions, and restagings taking up the Broadway and greater theater markets.

I get why it's happening; I do. Musical theater, even shows that never make it out of Regional productions (Be More Chill, btw, I'm so proud of you bby :'-D ) are REALLY FREAKING EXPENSIVE, not just to stage, but also to develop. Broadway productions nowadays regularly go upwards of TENS OF MILLIONS OF DOLLARS in costs.

Those costs are more and more frequently being met through funding by large groups of wealthy investors, who can expect basically little to no return on that investment. Only a select few shows that make it to the Great White Way do well enough to turn a profit (let alone the kinds of numbers that Hamilton, DEH, and Wicked continue to make), and more and more shows are closing in defict or once they break even. (Coincidentally, this is probably why we're seeing more and more straight plays on Broadway, especially in limited engagements. They're quicker, cheaper, and still have the same level of prestige.)

It makes sense then to assume that a show linked to an already successful property has a better chance of reaching that break-even mark, or perhaps generating a small return, than a more original idea. It's a surer bet, and we've seen it a lot these past few seasons. Anastasia, Beetlejuice, Pretty Woman, Moulin Rouge, Mean Girls... we get it. We promise. Investors want some security in an extremely and notoriously insecure market before they're willing to lay out the dough.

I get it. Everybody gets it.

And, to be fair, some of those shows are and continue to be GOOD. Tony nominees and award winners, even. But here's the problem: it's boring.

And not because I know how Act 2 ends without getting spoilers on tumblr. Unless they're younger than ten, the population of Broadway-and-musicals fans generally has a good handle on where a show's relevant plotlines are going. It's really not the wanting to know the end that keeps your butt in your overpriced red velvet seat and your eyes on the stage. It's the score, the words, occasionally the choreography, and most importantly the magicians on, off, and backstage bringing those things to life in a new and interesting way.

The antithesis of this, then, is having to watch slavish recreation of iconic scenes, lines, and characters from iconic films, presented Onstage! (TM), now with Bonus Songs! for your reconsumption. (Yes, Pretty Woman, I'm looking at you.)

Hey, I love Pretty Woman the Movie, slightly dodgy messages about feminity aside. I love it as a movie, and I really don't need to watch the knock off version of it, even if it comes in a shiny Broadway package.

Anastasia, and Beetlejuice, on the other hand, work extrodinarily well as musicals because they are NOT carbon copies of the original, somehow miraculously transplanted onto the stage.

Ironically, musicals based on original ideas are actually some of the most successful and well reviewed recent productions. Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, Come From Away, and Hadestown this season are all original works, and well, look at them. (Fishy, huh? Coincidence, I think the fuck not.)

Recently I got to see The Prom on Broadway, the day after I saw Pretty Woman. The contrast between shows and my enjoyment of them was well defined. I couldn't look away from The Prom, despite many of the major story beats being as obvious as our Cheeto-in-Chief's spray tan. I and the entire rest of the theater were completely engaged by what was going on onstage, both comedically and dramatically. At Pretty Woman, I found myself checking the Playbill to see how many songs were left for me to make it through and anxiously comparing the size of my thighs to the dancers onstage to pass the time (ah, pre pro Body Issues, welcome back! We all thought you'd retired!)

Three guesses which show I'd choose to see again.

When I read that Waitress was closing, the first thing I did was panic and start marking pre January weekends where I would both be free and possibly have disposable income (I've never gotten to see the show, and frankly I would like too). My second reaction was, yes, to mourn the closure of a wonderful show, but it was mixed with hopeful anticipation. Waitress had a good long time in the sun, and just like a well lived life, eventually it must and should end. It's better, in my humble student opinion, to live with memories and cast albums (and regional productions) than the stodgy life of a show that's jealously clung to its Broadway berth through the tourist-and-date-night trade (*cough*Phantom*cough*). It's sort of like your 40 something mother taking selfies in booty shorts in an effort to prove she's still 'hip' and in her twenties. Cringe.

Ephemera is the nature of live performance, and probably part of its allure. And just like in the natural world, old things have to end so that new things can become. Waitress closing is a vital part of this cycle.

Broadway has a limited number of theaters. That's a hard and absolute fact. Maybe a quarter of them are effectively taken off the market for new shows by productions apparently cursed with immortality. Waitress has just opened up another spot both physically and creatively for a new project- hopefully something we haven't seen before- and I hope to God, Satan, and Sondheim that it doesn't get filled with another franchise spinoff, celebrity jukebox musical, or -Lin Miranda forbid - yet another revival.

Why the revival hate, though? Aren't revivals an major way to revisit the landmark and important musicals of the past and bring them to a new audience?

Well, yes. They are, especially when they're staged and presented with the emphasis on letting the music and words speak for themselves and giving the actors leeway to work with the material, without the typical levels of Broadway Extra (TM) and creative meddling from the producers. (The recent Lincoln Center staging of A Chorus Line is a good example of the stripped down style I'm talking about.) But even if they have their place, once again, revivals (while valuable and cool and all that) are Something We've Already Seen.

Let's take Newsies for example. A show with a huge fan base (mostly teen, mostly girls) who I frequently see wishing for a revival.

Now, I am a raging Newsies fan. Newsies is the show that got me started on attempting to make a profession out of dance and theater. I can sing both the OBC and Live albums back to front. I may or may not have had embarrassing crushes on certain cast and characters that I will take to my grave (I'll never tell and you'll never know, mwahhaha). So, do I love and worship ever iteration of this show? Yes. Do I wish I had been able to see either the Natl Tour or Broadway productions? Hell yes, with all my heart. Do I wish the Gatelli choreography was in any way accessible for me to learn? More than I want Broadway tickets to cost less than my soul, kidney, and hypothetical but unlikely first born combined.

But do I want a Broadway revival? Hell FUCKING No.

It's over, it's done, and it lives on in reinterpretation in regional and junior productions. Good. That, to be quite honest, is where it should belong.

It doesn't need to be rehashed on the biggest stages, and to be frank, neither do most of the ultra popular revivals that have been happening. (Yes, Ali Stoker is awesome and deserves the world, but Broadway does not need Oklahoma. If you need to see it that bad, go find a high school production somewhere. I recommend the midwest.) Broadway does not need 1776 (even though I am looking forward to it). Broadway does not need a Sweeney Todd revival (even though I want one like I want ice cream after suffering through jazz class in an un-air-conditioned studio on a 90 degree afternoon with no breeze. Seriously, I might be making sacrifices at my altar to this cause in the back of my closet).

Broadway needs musicals that are at least nominally original, and if not, come from something obscure enough (Kinky Boots, Waitress, Newsies) that they can make their own way. Barring that, investors, writers, and directors, please have the courage and decency to take established content in a new direction. Please, I'm begging you. I'd honestly-and-truly much rather sit through something that didn't try to shove the better version of itself down my throat even as it bored and annoyed me to tears. If I'm going to pay $80+ to sit through two hours of something terrible (and less engaging than my dancer body image issues) at least let me get my money's worth in unique horribleness.

[lycorogue]

Latest Story: “Forever In Darkness”

Happy Plagg Appreciation Day!  (I’m calling for the fandom to officially make all Friday 13ths Plagg Appreciation Day)

You can find my latest story for our favorite cat kwami on my normal three sites: on AO3, on FFN, and on DA

You can also check it out below the cut.

(Man, I was NOT expecting this project to take me ALL DAY to write. Whoops!)

Forever in Darkness

Summary: Plagg has always been in darkness. It had become all he knew. Then he got a ray of sunshine, and it helped save him. There was a reason he believes Adrien is the best Chat Noir ever.

Rating:  T for war and torture mentions, child death mentions, and mild descriptions of abuse

Word Count: 4765

Status: Completed one-shot

Trigger Warnings: Emotional torture and abuse, execution mention, child death mention, and war mention

It's dark. It was always dark. He wasn't allowed the light. They were all afraid of him in the light. The last time he could fully bask in the sunlight was after rescuing a lazy young man from a booby-trapped cave, but even that boy kept him on a tight leash. The man had chosen the genie over him, and yet he was trapped; unable to roam.

At least he had the sunlight back then.

“Plagg, what are you doing?” The purple butterfly kwami whispered in his friend's ear, his eyes darting around in concern.

“I can't stay here, Nooroo,” Plagg whispered back. Delicately, he started sliding the Cat Ring off his owner's finger, careful to not wake her up.

“But you can't leave! We all make up the Box together. You are the other half of the Ladybug Miraculous. Are you truly going to abandon Tikki?”

“Tikki hasn't been out of the Miracle Box in decades. Besides, I'm sure she'll figure it out without me. I just can't be trapped anymore. I need the sun. I need to be my own owner. I'm done living through these human's full lives, being forgotten when my powers aren't needed, or when they find something that suits them better. Like you.”

Nooroo startled at the accusation. Plagg simply shook his head. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I'll miss all of you.” Plagg put a flipper on Nooroo's shoulder. “I'll miss you so much, little brother, but I can't stay.”

Wiping a tear away, the little black cat kwami scooped up his ring, and zipped away as far and as fast as he could. His eyes still clouded with a film of tears, he could barely make out the buildings around him. It wouldn't matter, though, soon he'd be out in the country, and he could find a place to hide the ring, and he'd be free. He wouldn't be a slave to those humans anymore; abandoned by them, and forced to stay hidden or trapped inside the world of the Miracle Box.

As his anger over the last millennium built up, his destructive powers manifested as an aura around him.

“Oh! No! No no no.” Plagg tried to skid to a halt until he was calmed again, but he couldn't build up enough friction in the air. He neared a freestanding clock tower by the cathedral in Pisa, and instantly dove for the ground to avoid ruining the building. Instead, his cataclysm softened the soil, causing the heavy building to start to sink.

“No! I didn't mean to! Stop!” Phasing back through the dirt, Plagg – power now subdued – dropped his ring, and pushed hard against the tower, trying to hold it in place. He managed to keep it from falling completely, but at the cost of his freedom.

“There you are!” An angry Italian woman - with Nooroo sorrowfully in tow – stormed up to the tower. She scooped Plagg's ring off the ground, and snarled at him. “You've gone too far this time, Cat,” she spat at him, “Plagg, I renounce you.”

Plagg just managed to catch Nooroo mouthing 'I'm sorry' to him before the magic binding him to the Cat Ring flashed; forcing Plagg to become trapped within his ring until a new owner for him was found. Back into the darkness.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He wasn't sure how long it was before his ring was placed back in the Miracle Box; returning him to his friends, at least. Still, he had all but forgotten what the sun felt like; what light looked like. Even in their world within the Miracle Box, all was magical twilight.

He was back with the Guardians, and trusted even less now that he attempted to escape. He was rarely used, and the few times he was called upon were curt; strict.

“Plagg, where do you think you're going?”

The kwami flinched. He was destruction incarnate, but these humans still held so much power over him after they created the Miraculous to help give him form.

“I was just going outside, Master. I wanted to feel the sun. I promise I won't be seen by anyone, and I won't touch anything.”

“You can't be trusted.” The monk didn't say it with malice, but his voice was still stern and authoritative.

“But-”

“No! You have fulfilled your task. It is now back to the Miracle Box.”

“Master, please-”

“Plagg, I renounce you.”

Before the kwami could beg further, he was in his ring, and then returned to the Box.

I'm with my brothers and sisters, he reminded himself. At least I'm not alone.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It had been dark for so long, Plagg didn't realize light could be terrifying. Not until a squire bore his ring. The young man was a trusted ally to Jeanne d'Arc, who bore Tikki's Ladybug Earrings, and accompanied her on her quest to push back English forces and get Prince Charles crowned at Reims. When Tikki and Plagg weren't powering up their owners, the two bearers allowed their kwamis some time to bond, so long as they promised to stay hidden from all others. It was a great arrangement – usually taken advantage of by the light of a campfire – but for such a terrible price. They were in a mighty war, and Plagg's destructive powers were constantly used against people: English forces and their allies. The Miraculous was only meant for the pursuit of good and the betterment of mankind, but in war, who truly knows if actions are for those purposes?

Plagg feared that his powers were being used for ill as he watched the newly appointed knight descend into madness. He became power-hungry, and only Jeanne's words could truly keep him in check.

Then Jeanne was captured.

During her trial, she had renounced her possession of her earrings before Tikki was found out, and a Guardian of the Miraculous was able to retrieve them before Plagg's owner could. It drove the man wild with rage. He blamed Tikki for letting Jeanne get captured; blamed her for the saint's death. He wanted to use the dual-Miraculouses to return Jeanne to France; to let her live out her victory over England. He missed his partner dearly, and the grief overwhelmed him.

He grew cruel with Plagg. He feared his Miraculous would be taken away, or that Plagg would betray him, just as he had believed Tikki to have done to Jeanne. So Plagg was never allowed out of his owner's sight. He was used to destroy entire villages and towns that housed the English and their allies; the knight not caring for innocents lost in the devastation. Acres upon acres of farmland, forever ruined by the knight's cataclysmic touch. People starved as Plagg was forced to send a plague through their crops and animals. All the while, King Charles VII praised the knight's efforts, and rewarded him with a title of nobility.

Plagg sank into his own despair. He had no other kwami to talk to, he was isolated with only his owner to socialize with, and the now middle-aged man cared nothing for his kwami's wellbeing. Plagg couldn't even attempt to run away, as he did with the Italian woman, because this owner slept with a glove over his ringed hand. It was near-impossible to take both the glove and the ring off his owner's hand without waking him. The few times Plagg tried, he was thoroughly punished: stripped of his mouth for days, forced to power up his owner even when drained, renounced so he would be banished into the darkness of his ring for nearly a week, and even had his Cataclysm used to execute children who were accused of theft; unmoved by the fact that it was to avoid starvation. The only time Plagg seemed to have any sort of peace was while his owner slept through the nights. The dawn brought awakening, and torture. The sun now brought pain.

It kept far too long – nearly sixteen years after Jeanne d'Arc's capture and execution – before other Miraculous holders finally made it to Plagg, and took his ring back to the Guardians. They had to rotate through a small handful of Ladybugs to accomplish the task, each one trying to use the knight's connection to Jeanne and Tikki to persuade him to relinquish the ring; each one only managing to increase the man's grief and anger. With so much destruction in Plagg's wake, his ring and Tikki's earrings were carefully protected in the Miracle Box, and while Tikki was utilized to create other Ladybugs throughout the centuries, Plagg was never again called upon.

He was now safe with his friends. He wouldn't see the sun again, but the eternal twilight reminded him of asylum. He began to heal, but he also began to break ties with humanity. They had been little more than cruel to him; hungry for the destruction he could create, or fearful of it.

After all, it was always dark for Plagg. He wasn't allowed the light.

Tikki was the embodiment of good luck; so it was only natural that Plagg was therefore the embodiment of bad luck, of curses, of jinxes. It was in his nature to be condemned to a life of cruelty, it seemed. So he didn't need humans or their intense emotions that controlled them. He was becoming content in the micro-world his brothers and sisters shared with him.

He would be as amused as the rest when a different kwami brought a gift from the outside world to theirs, but he would not care about the humans that created the objects. Plagg just wished he never sampled that creamy and gooey cheese Nooroo had brought back some time around the start of the 19th century. Plagg had gotten over never seeing the sun again, but to give up ever sampling another bite of that cheese was going to be the end of him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The years ticked along, and one evening Plagg was again brought out of the Miracle Box. A young boy of about twelve or thirteen looked at him in awe. Plagg remembered the other kwamis telling him about this new Guardian apprentice. Wang Fu had been pulling each kwami out every night, starting with the pig kwami Daizzi, and working his way backwards through the Zodiac kwamis before meeting the Main Seven: Pollen the Bee, Trixx the Fox, Nooroo the Butterfly, Duusu the Peafowl, Wayzz the Turtle, and finally Plagg and Tikki.

“Hello,” the boy meekly started, “it is very nice to meet you. I am a Guardian in training here. My name is-”

“I know, I know. Fu, right? You've been trying to slowly meet us all?”

The boy nodded his head.

“Don't get attached, alright, kid?”

“I do not understand. Why should I not-?”

“Apprentice!” A monk slammed open the door to the closet the boy was hiding in. “Why are you in here with a Miracle Box?” The monk gasped as he noticed the child talking to Plagg. “And why have you released that dangerous kwami?” The monk snatched the ring from the boy's hand and slammed it back into the Miracle Box. The moment the box lid closed, Plagg was back inside the kwami's pocket-world.

“Plagg?” Tikki ventured, “What happened?”

“Another washed up apprentice. I knew it would be stupid to try to get attached. Sorry you won't be able to get a chance to meet him, Sugarcube.”

She growled at Plagg, but he didn't care. He didn't care that she didn't like the nickname. It was his way of having fun in an otherwise monotonous existence. He didn't mind getting cut off from meeting Wang Fu. The kid looked sweet and innocent, and Plagg couldn't chance being tricked and getting attached to another slave-driving human. He didn't worry about the monk fearing Plagg's release from the Miracle Box. If the humans were scared then they wouldn't try to use him, and he could lead a perfectly lazy life within his pocket-world. He didn't care.

Truly.

A few months later Duusu was called upon, and it would be the last time any of them saw her. Mere minutes later, their whole world shook as if they were experiencing an earthquake. The kwamis were terrified; their world never rattled like that before. Nooroo seemed the most afraid, and was worried for Duusu. Plagg held the butterfly kwami close, trying to sooth him. Then Nooroo vanished from Plagg's arms; probably called upon by a new owner. Within an hour, Wayzz also vanished.

Once things had settled down, Wayzz returned to let the rest of the kwamis know of the Apprentice-made-Guardian; the last Guardian of the Miraculous. The Peacock and Butterfly Miraculouses were lost, as were the kwamis and other Miraculouses in the other boxes. Those that remained grieved, and Plagg once more distanced his heart from humans. It was their silly emotions that had caused such tragedy; such darkness.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Over the next two centuries or so, the abruptly appointed Master Fu watched over the last of the Miraculous, making his way throughout Europe as he fled from his guilt. Whenever he saw a great wrongdoing that he felt he could secretly fix, he would either transform via Wayzz – whom he had as a constant companion and improvised mentor – he would call upon another Miraculous to get the job done, or he would pass out Miraculouses to the small few he grew to trust. In those two hundred years, Plagg was never called upon.

He had heard from the other kwamis how the world had changed, and of the wars Master Fu tried to help sway. He had reached too far with his naive confidence, and drew the attention of a man named Adolf Hitler, who was searching for any and all supernatural means to win his war and conquer the whole world. Master Fu had to abandon the love of his life in order to go into deep hiding, and no kwami outside of Wayzz left the Miracle Box again.

This is what you get when humans wish to control us kwamis, Plagg bitterly noted. He then got comfortable with his eternal twilight. For him, it was always dark; he wasn't allowed to see the light anyway.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

“Plagg, black cat kwami of destruction.” Master Fu was much older than the child that Plagg had first met. He seemed kind, and had taken good care of the remaining kwamis. Wayzz seemed happy as he zipped over to his friend, although a sad smile was across his face. “We have felt the presence of the Butterfly Miraculous,” Fu continued, “but it has been corrupted. I have found you a new owner. His name is Adrien Agreste. You shall teach him how to become the next Cat Miraculous wielder, and you shall partner with the Ladybug Miraculous in order to bring the Butterfly Miraculous-”

“And Nooroo,” Wayzz interrupted.

“And Nooroo,” Master Fu agreed, “back to us. Understood?”

A mission. Plagg was finally tasked for a mission again. He peeked towards the large window. There was sun. He had forgotten how much he missed the glow of sunlight.

“Yeah, alright, let's get this over with.” Plagg lazily shrugged, focusing on the sunlight instead of Master Fu. It was all taken away too soon as his ring was closed within the jewelry box; locking Plagg within his Miraculous once more. Darkness. Always darkness. At least he could take a cat nap while he waited for the transfer.

The flash of light that registered him to his new owner woke him up. Plagg stretched and idly took in the blonde boy staring at him with wide eyes. He looked like he had just entered adolescence, so maybe thirteen or fourteen. Plagg didn't care anymore. He just wanted more sleep.

“No way!” The boy gleefully called out. “Like the genie in the lamp!”

That got Plagg's attention; reminding him of those days long since passed.

“I met him once,” Plagg retorted dismissively, “So he grants wishes; big deal. I'm way more personable. Plagg. Nice to meet you.” There. He had introduced himself to his new owner. Now to see what he could experience before his freedoms were revoked again.

He zipped around the kid's room, biting all that he could (he hadn't had a thing to eat in nearly two-hundred years; and nothing to eat regularly since the mid-1400s). The kid kept trying to catch him and get Plagg to focus, but if the kwami did that then he'd have to explain what it meant to be a wielder. That would be when Plagg would be put to work, and he would lose all hope of fun or sunlight again. But Adrien was persistent, and crafty, and did manage to capture Plagg. So the kwami did his duty, and haphazardly explained Adrien's.

Adrien seemed way too enthused by the idea of becoming a superhero, and Plagg worried about Master Fu's choosing process. The kid knew exactly what he wanted as a costume, as if he had pictured it his entire life. He also wasn't afraid of the power to destroy whatever he touched; he almost seemed excited by the prospect. Never a good sign, in Plagg's opinion.

Adrien's Chat Noir was over-eager, and that tended to cause mischief, but in the end, he did have a good heart. He got a bit too attached to Ladybug though, and Plagg feared another situation like with Jeanne d'Arc. Plagg knew he had to nip that in the bud, but no matter how much he tried to deter Adrien, the kid held firmly to his torch.

Plagg remained cautious and watchful of his new owner at first. He pretended to take cat naps so he could observe how Adrien was when not monitored. Despite himself, the more Plagg observed Adrien, the more his defenses weakened. Adrien truly was a kind soul, and usually left Plagg be, or would reflectively reach out to pet or scratch the kwami; like any owner of an actual cat. Plagg had plenty of time to bask in sunlight, and Adrien fed him as much of that gooey cheese Nooroo once introduced him to as Plagg wanted. Even when Adrien didn't seem particularly thrilled with Plagg's demands, the kid submitted to most of them. Plagg could sleep as much as he'd want, and Adrien even set up games for him to play as the teen did other things, such as homework or stalk the Ladyblog, that way Plagg wouldn't get bored. Adrien was also lonely; a pain that Plagg knew well. The two would talk like old friends, and it did Plagg's heart good to socialize with someone new.

Adrien wasn't a slave-driver like the others. He seemed to honestly care about Plagg's feelings, and spoke to him as a friend would. He also never used his Cataclysm to harm others. Instead, Adrien typically used it to break down barriers keeping people apart or keeping them tied down. Plagg forgot what it was like to have his powers used for good. He also had fun watching Adrien flirt with Ladybug. He still feared what the kid would become if the same fate befell Ladybug as it did Jeanne d'Arc, but that fear was waning a little bit more each day. Before he knew it, Plagg was actually enjoying the telenovela that had become those crazy kids' romance, and he rooted for Adrien to finally get his girl.

He was even grateful for Master Fu. The man did know exactly what he was doing when he chose Adrien and Marinette; they were the perfect Chat Noir and Ladybug. A partnership Plagg and Tikki hadn't experienced in eons, if ever.

Also, there was poor Nooroo. The butterfly kwami had always been one of Plagg's closest brothers. He was the one most there for Plagg when he was in need, and now it was Nooroo's turn for help. Plagg had known how painful it was to have an owner force him to do evil, and it pained him that gentle Nooroo was in the same predicament. Sure, Tikki was also concerned, but it didn't affect her the same way it did Plagg. He needed to rescue Nooroo, and Adrien understood that. He let Plagg worry aloud about Nooroo, and Adrien comforted his anxious friend.

There was no judgment from Adrien. No scolding. Even when the kid found out about Plagg's ability to use Cataclysm himself – unchecked – Adrien didn't fear the kwami as others had. He was just glad that everyone was safe, and that Ladybug was able to repair the damage.

After months of bonding, and his walls slowly coming down, Plagg didn't truly realize how much Adrien had grown to mean to him until Nooroo's cycle. Until he, Tikki, and Wayzz entered the Miracle Box to try to find their lost brother. Until Sandboy attacked Paris.

“Hey, isn't that your owner?” Tikki pointed to a nightmarish rendition of Adrien, crawling on Master Fu's floor and taunting Tikki's owner Marinette. It was not a pleasant sight to stumble onto after leaving the Miracle Box in a panic.

“Of course not,” Plagg protested, “Flowers? Pwah. No way! The real one talks nonsense, but is never this bad.” That was when Plagg discovered how much he had grown to truly know Adrien; his partner and friend. He could pick that kid out of a line-up no problem. He also knew that if Marinette was being tortured by a nightmarish Adrien, and Master Fu was being literally haunted by his past, then Adrien must be suffering just as much, and with no ally to help him through it. He had abandoned someone to a fate he had to suffer through already.

“I better go find him! I just hope he's not living a nightmare without me around! Oh, no.” He zipped off to try to get back to Adrien as fast as he could. It was a bit tricky when Sandboy discovered him, but Plagg was able to quickly figure out how to ditch the supervillain.

“Adrien!” The kid was literally locked away in his room, bars upon prison bars encircled him layer by layer until he was in a cage little more than a meter wide in either direction. Plagg was devastated that he had left the poor kid to suffer through his worst fear like that. “Are you okay?” Plagg silently pleaded that Adrien wouldn't hate him now. He hadn't lost a friend over this, did he? He didn't really care, as long as Adrien was fine. That was what mattered.

“Plagg! I'm so relieved you're not a sock!” Adrien had the largest grin on his face, and Plagg let out a shaky sigh. “You better have a good excuse.”

“Good to see you've managed to survive your nightmare,” Plagg sheepishly replied.

Adrien transformed into Chat Noir, and quickly broke his way through the bars. He found Ladybug, and helped her defeat the supervillain, as the duo always did. Once Chat Noir was back home, and back to being Adrien, he simply stared at Plagg, waiting for him to finish his offered cheese to recover.

“Well?” There wasn't anger or judgment in Adrien's voice. If anything, there was concern. “What was up with the fake sock version of you? You really had me scared that I had lost you.”

“I'm sorry, Adrien. I had something I really needed to do tonight to try to find Nooroo. I know I wasn't supposed to leave your side, but I just had to.”

“For Nooroo, huh?” Adrien softened, and sat them both down on his bed. “I guess that is a good excuse. Just- don't do it again, okay? If you need to go somewhere without me, just tell me about it. That way I don't get worried, and I'll know where to find you if I need you.”

“It's a deal. Speaking of which, I'm going to need to visit Master Fu tomorrow, after you're done with school. You can't know where he lives, however.”

“Okay. You know my schedule, and I know Master Fu will have you come straight to me if there's trouble. Thank you for telling me. Now, I need to get those nightmares out of my head. You up for a game of Ultimate Mecha Strike III?”

The next day, Wayzz, Marinette, and even Tikki took blame for a plan Plagg had concocted. He had more friends than he realized. He was no longer shunned. He was no longer scapegoated, even if it was his fault. The room seemed a little brighter in that moment.

“You trusted me and I failed,” Tikki told Marinette; causing Plagg's ears to perk up. “I'm sorry I disappointed you.”

Plagg felt the same way. He had deceived Adrien, put him in danger, left him to his worst fear, and it was all for nothing; not only didn't they find Nooroo, but Hawk Moth nearly found the rest of the kwamis. He must have disappointed Adrien as well.

“Of course not, Tikki,” Marinette soothed, scooping her kwami up in her hands. I know you only meant well. I will always trust you, you know.” Then she gave Tikki a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, Marinette!” Tikki hugged her holder's cheek with a tight squeeze, causing the girl to giggle at the affection.

Adrien was the same way, wasn't he? He didn't care about being abandoned, only that Plagg came back and was safe. He wasn't disappointed in Plagg, he was simply worried about him. He knew Plagg meant well, and how much rescuing Nooroo meant to him, and he supported it. He didn't respond as Plagg's other holders did: with restrictions and revoking of freedoms and hiding him back inside the darkness. Instead, Adrien allowed him to fly freely through Paris in order to be at this meeting. Adrien still trusted Plagg.

Someone trusted Plagg.

He hid behind one of Fu's plants so no one could see him wipe a tear away. Then he flew back to Adrien, his heart swelling with every second he got closer to his holder. Without stopping for even a moment, Plagg zipped through the walls of Adrien's room in order to wrap the kid's arm in a tight hug.

“Thank you, Adrien.”

“Plagg! Something wrong?”

Plagg should have known that such an overt show of affection would have worried Adrien. It even startled the kwami a bit. It had been so long since he let himself experience human emotions. He forgot how they could be powerful and overwhelming in a good sense as well.

“No,” Plagg awkwardly replied. “Just- thanks for letting me do whatever I want. Almost all the time.”

“I know what it's like to have your freedom restricted, Plagg. You don't need to pretend to be a sock.”

He understood. This kid truly understood. Adrien fully understood, and he didn't care, and he wanted Plagg to feel like an equal. Plagg was so overwhelmed by his relief, and his joy, and his sense of safety that he couldn't help it. He dashed towards Adrien's chest and wrapped him in as tight of a hug his little flipper-arms and legs could manage.

“You're the best Chat Noir I've ever had, Adrien!” He meant it. Plagg was always a slave. Always a weapon. Always a tool. His only partner had always been Tikki, or some other kwami. Adrien, however? Adrien was a true partner and confidant. Adrien was home.

And Adrien quickly hugged him back, filling Plagg with a warmth he forgot he could have. He was getting overwhelmed again.

He zipped out of Adrien's grip and hovered a little bit away from the kid. “But, uh, let's not get too cheesy about it now, huh?”

Adrien laughed, and shouldered his gym bag, leaving the top un-zippered so Plagg could tuck himself in but still get some light.

The world was no longer darkness for Plagg. He had found someone who allowed him to bask in the sun, to have freedoms, to be surrounded with light. Adrien was his light, and Plagg was grateful to have him. For once, Plagg had a wielder who was more than his master. Adrien was his friend; his family. And together, they would rescue Nooroo so the butterfly kwami could feel that same light.

[1000roughdrafts]

Family Secrets: Chapter Fourteen

Town That Never Stops Smiling 

Summary: Being transported to Teraw leaves you tired and confused, but the path to the truth is a long and needy road. 

Warnings: slight angst, slightly OOC Dean 

W/C: 3.2k

Masterlist/schedule

The four of you walk in silence through the field and onto a dirt road. Walking towards the bridge, you peer over at the glistening water underneath it. Dean squints at her, shaking his head, "all right. So where we headin'? Motel? Get some grub?"

Allanah giggles, "no. Here, there are no hotels, as they have no need for them. No one is allowed to travel between the regions without a request from the Head of the Region. From there, the Head provides them with a place to stay, whether that be in his or her own quarters, or at a volunteers. On the topic, we need to be careful about how we interact with the people and places here. It's big enough that we won't be noticed right away, but if we stay in one place too long there are going to be issues," Allanah says while you make your way to the start of the bridge.

"Uh, so what happens if we do get caught?" Sam asks in a whisper, looking around at the decaying bridge and trees that surround it.

As sweet as can be, Allanah smiles, "think American TSA meets intense CIA interrogations," she smirks. "In other words, let's just not get caught." Dean frowns which puts her attention onto him, "you're going to struggle with this the most, Dean, I can already feel it. But Y/N, you've felt it deep down, haven't you? A mother's love is not to be taken lightly, even beyond death."

You keep quiet, peaking over at Dean. He holds contempt in his face, trapped behind that stoic expression but easy to see the swirl of emotion in his eyes. He wants to scream out and ask questions, but what could he say? He has children, or at least a past version of him did and he knows nothing of it, but Y/N does? 

Luna - June 26, 2068

Teraw - Region 3

Complete darkness goes so well with shattering silence. I have known nothing other than the darkness and cherish the quiet. The only thing I hate about the silence is that it traps me in a world of uncertainty. With nothing to grip onto, I succumb to the thoughts raging in my mind like an ocean under a full moon; but it is a beautiful thing.

Just as I am trapped in my mind I am trapped in my body. No movement in my arms, torso, hands, legs, feet or face. I can not open my eyes, nor can I move my lips. Absolutely nothing works anymore. Well, almost nothing. Miraculously my ears can hear anything from a train passing by to a mouse three stories down.

I am surrounded by so much noise in the day that I look forward to the treacherous words my mind whispers to me as I lay to sleep. I rely on my ears so much these days, as it's the only sense I've got left. There's this single sound I hear more than anything. It has a set pace, just as a metronome would tick along to keep the beat of a song. Beep. Beep. Beep. I don't live like many others, they say I'm lucky to be alive at all.

I hear my family as they trickle in, their footsteps are quick and loud. It breaks my concentration on the ticking. The stepping stops, I hear sniffling, deep breaths and then suddenly, "Luna, it's your mama. Can you hear me?" Yes, I hear you. I want to say it. 

"I should start at the beginning," Allanah sighs, slowing her walk to a gentle stroll. "The two of you, Shirley and Bill you used to be called," she laughs lightly. "You enlisted me as a," she motions her hand around, scrunching her face, "guardian of sorts for your five children, quintuplets," she laughs again. "Wren, Ana, Tullie, Aidan and Luna." 

You and Dean lock eyes, "Luna?" he says, pointing at you, "the girl that's-" 

"Indeed," Allanah lets out a long breath, watching the ground somberly. "It's very sad what has happened to her," she says. "There's evil in this realm that neither of you could predict. It's what sent me back to Earth, locked me out. It wasn't until after I'd ended things with Crowley and found Y/N that I remembered who I truly was and what you created me to be. I needed to do something, anything, to bring the two of you back to this realm to fix what had been broken." 

Coming to a stop at the start of the bridge, Allanah looks into her hands, "your children, they," looking back up between you and Dean. "They are very powerful, yet they don't know it. Not anymore, at least." 

"What do you mean?" Sam tilts his head. 

"Each of them possess qualities and powers of an element specific to Earth. When Bill and Shirley created this realm, you split the children up into regions. This was done to protect them, or so you said. Teraw was specific to Luna, but with you two gone and evil sneaking in, the regions had grown a mind of their own," she lowers her voice, "it's gotten out of control. Ana was born in Inequescent, but with the latest reincarnation, the family Ana was brought into grew tired and she was adopted by a family here in Teraw. What I know to be happening soon is that because of Luna's sickness, Tullie will be requested to come help her. Horrible things are in store for the regions, unless we can stop it.”  

"Like what?" Dean asks. 

"This evil... it wishes to gain control of the other regions. After that, other dimensions... like Earth." 

Tullie - June 6, 2068 Hemort - Region 4

A day off is a luxury when one has specialized skills in the medical profession, at least for those in Hemort. I usually try to wind down and relax on those two short days, or tune into my favorite channel to watch some gushy movies about how everything always works out in the end, and everyone is just so nice. They make me sick, and yet I can't bring myself to watch anything else. In my day to day life, I don't always get to see the happy endings. Moreso, with my line of work, I see death more than any sane person should. And that begs the question; am I really as sane as I believe myself to be? 

I admire the house on the screen and the characters who live in it, wondering what it would be like to have a big house with a yard and a cute dog who gets to enjoy it. There's not much of that here, only the Elite live on large plots of land. Instead, I rent this quaint apartment with the ceiling to wall windows I'd dreamt of having since I was young. When the new owner bought the complex, she planted the most beautiful garden and elegant, tall trees on either side of the building, which is better than the concrete nothingness that resided there before.

Pausing the movie, I unravel myself from underneath the blankets to make some tea, although I'd never be able to make it as calming and tasty as my mother had. The storm doesn't help to calm me either, with the trees rattling against the windows and begging to come inside. While waiting for the kettle to boil, I close the blinds and play the movie. I could stand to miss a little of it if it means I don't have to listen to that screaming sound the wind makes.

While adding honey to the mug in preparation, my phone rings. I'm not expecting a call, so I don't scatter to answer it. I pull the kettle and turn down the dial on the stove before going back to the couch to rummage through knitted blankets for my cell. 

"Hello," I say, putting the phone between my ear and shoulder as I make my way back to my tea. 

"Hi, Tullie," the voice says, calmly and sweetly. I spill boiling water onto my hands at the surprise, and curse myself for not checking the caller ID. How dare he call me at this hour. 

"What do you want, Dan?" 

After a heartbreaking pause, he speaks out, "this is not a personal call, okay? I don't care how you're doing. I don't want to know what you're doing. I don't even care if you're hiding from the storm in a cup of tea right now,  or watching those stupid puke inducing movies, I-" I hear him sigh, "this is about the hospital," he says swiftly. 

"Mine or yours?" 

"Why would I be calling about yours? Listen, I have my hands tied on a case over here. I could really use your help. No one has a clue on what to do. They put me on this, but," he pauses and his voice shifts down a tone, "I'm really in over my head." 

"How does no one there know what to do? Your hospital is the best out of all five districts." 

"This case is really strange, Tu-" 

"Don't," I sharply cut him off and take the phone in my hand before he can finish my name. "Please, don't call me that. It's Doctor Marion." 

There is a silence between us as I make my way back to the couch, gripping my mug with both hands and the phone resting back on my shoulder. 

"You know I wouldn't be calling you if I wasn't out of options, but this girl," he sighs. "She's been out for three weeks. There is nothing in her medical history that would help to explain her state. Her parents have no idea what happened, they said they just found her like this." 

"Okay, so assuming it's a coma," I say, mostly thinking out loud. Then back to him, I condescend, "are you sure it's not locked-in state? Er, what about psychogenic unresponsiveness?" 

"Of course, what do you take me for?" he says in a short, agitated breath. "Look, it's absolutely a coma with no explainable source. We've taken MRI's and Cat Scans and still can not locate the site of her brain that's causing it." 

"Were there drugs involved?" 

"No, we did blood work after taken her vitals. No drugs in her system, vitamin levels are all normal and we've been monitoring her brain waves while she's been here. It's like she went to sleep one night and just... didn't wake up." 

"It sounds like you've done everything I would have, so why are you calling me?" 

"Tu - Doctor Marion, I know you-" 

"No, you knew me," I softly yell, foolishly pointing a finger in the air as if he were in front of me. Quieter now, I keep a harsh tongue, "I'm not the same person I was then, you played a huge role in that. I changed myself for the better. I never wanted to hear from you again. The last thing I need is to be reminded..." I trail off before the tear in my eye can drop and listen to the actors giggling on the television. 

"Reminded of what?" Dan asks, in that same torturous way he'd always comforted me in the past. 

"It doesn't matter. I'm going to bed. You'll get an answer tomorrow." Forgetting the tea, I barricade myself in blankets and cry myself to sleep. 

As you walk along the bridge, Allanah continues, “for the first long while that I was here, things were fine. The churches were full, as were the pubs and shops. That’s the way many enjoyed it for a great while, but when those who opened their eyes fought back?” She sucks in air through her teeth, “well, let’s just say blood was shed, and tears were shared.” 

She moves her hands around and slows her steps, “allow me to take this back in time. They followed a set of standards. A hierarchy of social standings and if one was not near the top, they were not worth a loaf. The weight of one’s standing held in community intervention in threefold. It started with the preparation and bringing about of their first church. Many thought that if one was of fellowship they were among deities.” She laughs softly, “as I, the only guardian of this realm, knew there were no deities, just little old me. It was comical. And per the two of you, I was never allowed to step in or intervene.” 

“That’s stupid,” you mutter under your breath, watching your steps along the bridge. 

“Blacksmiths, clergymen, doctors and carpenters were just below, and seen as noble. Those however that farmed land, crops and livestock were seen at the bottom. Along with butchers, dairymaids, tailors, barbers, and the like were noted to be Sepulchers. It’s worth noting, that this system was not one that you two brought in place.” 

“Sepulchers?” Sam twists his face. 

“No one had an inkling as to why, but it was surmised that it was in reference to those folk being just as untitled as the many of the graves placed just outside of this bridge.” 

Dean folds his lips down in a nod, looking around at the piles of dirt outside of the river and under the bridge. 

“After segregating with an older congregating with an older woman who called herself Minerva, it was she that determined there was power in numbers. There were more of them than there were in the fellowship and just as one might catch a second wind, they found their strength. It started at first with the announcement. The Town Crier, also among the Sepulchers, had begun his course into the Town Whisperer, and could be found in the benighted area, or circumferential. They conspired many gatherings and prepared for battle, if need be so. The churches grew ever suspicious as their totality grew by the day. Minerva conducted the rough fifty to leave their work for another day,” she sighs, “and then another. This war lasted for years, reaching all five regions and the only thing that I could do was try and protect your children, and carry them through their reincarnations. I had made many, many attempts to reach out to the two of you and all had fallen short.” 

She focuses on the boards of the bridge and the squeaking they make as you walk over them, “a man by the name of Henry took to ending the war, and was appointed the Head of Teraw for his efforts. This man’s son is now the Head and Luna’s father in this realm. I wasn’t here to place them into the proper families,” she sighs, “and now I worry he’s stirring up trouble.”

Ana - June 6, 2068

Teraw - Region 3 

These briefings make me feel less of who I want to be. I understand the importance of putting together the minds of professional colleagues to come to a conclusion on how to move forward with whatever case we happen to be discussing. However, as someone who works in healthcare, forgive me for stating that I find them to be quite menial. It's usually the same act every day; Dan will turn up late, I drum my fingers on the table, Mary doesn't say a damn word and Nathan does most, if not all, of the talking. 

I'm mid-yawn through one of Nathan's monologues as a pink-haired woman wearing sweatpants, a tank top and a light cardigan walks in. I can only assume she is lost with the confusion draped on her face, so I stand to redirect her. Nathan, the natural born leader that he is, smiles and holds a hand out to her. 

"You must be Doctor Marion. I'm Chief Nathan Scott. Dean speaks very highly of you." Her confusion is overtaken by a smile as she accepts the greeting, "I understand your decision to be here was quite rash, so we'll excuse the lapse in dress code this one time," he jokes. 

I mask a chuckle by returning to my seat and shuffling through my papers. He pulls out his pocket watch and just barely inspects it before looking back up at her. With a careless wave of his hands and a slight shrug he says, "Dan should be arriving soon. If you know him like we do, you would know he's late to everything." 

She laughs softly, looking at her feet. "Go ahead and take a seat right there, next to Ana." He gestures over to me and smiles. I do not. "She doesn't bite, I promise." I might. 

"Enough," Nathan says as if he's heard one too many of Dan's jokes. Then again, we all certainly have. Dan glides across the room, briefcase in tow, and plops into the chair next to Mary. "First of all," Nathan goes on, sitting at the head of the table. He pulls a stack of papers from his own briefcase and shifts to Doctor Marion. "I need you to look over and sign these before we can proceed, for patient privacy and all that." 

"I understand," she squeaks out and inches her chair close to the table. She smiles when she's finished and pushes the papers back to Nathan, who inspects them thoroughly before carrying on with his speech. 

"Now, miss Luna's case is of high priority and exceptionally confidential." He classically folds his hands together and leans slightly into the table, facing me and the new doctor. "You see, her parents are what makes this town what it is." 

"And what is that, exactly?" 

"Powerful," I scoff. 

Approaching the end of the bridge, Dean grips onto your arm, pulling you to face him. “I want to know what’s going on. Damn it, Y/N, we haven’t talked in... ten months, and - and now we’re in an alternate dimension where apparently our kids live, and...” he flops his hands down at his sides, looking around before taking a step closer to you, holding up a finger, “and you knew about them?” 

“No,” you sigh, “I only had a feeling about it, I - I didn’t know for sure. I don’t even know how to explain it, it was just this gut feeling...” you trail off, not really understanding the whole thing yourself. 

Dean rolls his eyes, so you push on, “look, Dean, I’m sorry that you got dragged into this, but-” you take a deep breath, forcefully letting it out. He turns his eyebrows down, crossing his arms. “I don’t know what else to tell you,” you breathe. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? That I never should have left? That I wish none of this was happening in the first place?” 

He continues to glare, and you take one small step towards him, your bodies merely inches from each other. 

“You never should have left, Y/N,” he scowls. “We were heading here from the beginning, Y/N. The only freaking difference is that we spent ten months apart from each other,” he says, voice crawling back into animosity. “I don’t know if I can trust anything you say to me now.” 

You drop your voice to a whisper, “I am sorry, Dean, for everything. I’m sorry that I left, again, but we - I can’t change any of that now, so we just gotta get through this, and when we get back home... if we get back home, we can go our separate ways if that’s what you want.” 

After a long pause, his face softens slightly, “no,” he says. Clearing his throat, his eyes move around your face, “no, Y/N. That’s the opposite of what I want. I want you. Even through all the shit we went through, I was happy with you. Why can’t you see that?” 

Next Chapter 

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[onwardintolight]

Han x Leia, ESB, Trip to Bespin, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: ESB from Leia's POV. A journey from despair to hope, a blossoming, an opening to vulnerability and love.

Warnings: Deals with some heavy themes, incl. working through trauma, depression, self-harm, attempted sexual assault. Each chapter will be individually warned.

Note: I’m currently in the process of reposting the first nine chapters here in full, since when I first wrote this fic, I only shared links to the chapters on AO3 and FFN. I will try to post at least weekly. In the meantime, if you’d prefer to binge-read it, the entire fic is posted in full on AO3 and FFN.

Part: Masterlist | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | Epilogue

~~~

Author’s note from 1/2020: 

Wow. Where to begin? I can hardly believe that after almost three and a half years, The Opening is finally coming to end. A HUGE thank you to all of you who have supported me, whether in those early days of writing or recently as I've been posting. Your encouragement and responses have kept me going when I felt like giving up and have given me more joy than I can possibly express.

This fic has meant so very much to me, more than words can say. It is Leia's story, but it is also my story. I've poured out my entire heart and soul into it, and in turn it's helped me heal. I hope that even a tiny bit of that encouragement spills over to you, even if it's just the knowledge that it's okay to not be okay. Struggling doesn't make you weak—just the opposite. Healing is a long journey, but it is possible. Hope always wins.

If you finish this and would like more, my one-shot Found is a companion piece of sorts—a happy, final epilogue after what's lost has been found again.

You can also check out the soundtrack I made to go with this fic here!

Again, thank you so much for going on this journey with me. May we all open ourselves more and more.

~~~

Epilogue

She talked to Luke before they reached the Alliance; she waited until he was awake again and starting to ask questions. The look of shock, horror, and grief on his face when she told him about Han nearly made her weep all over again. Soon, though, he was all determination, somehow her sun once more despite the pain that still haunted the hollows of his face. “We’ll get him back, Leia,” he said, grasping her hand in his remaining one. His eyes flickered to the side, staring unseeing at a spot on the wall. “We’ve got to trust the Force,” he murmured.

The Force. She closed her eyes, prepared to swallow down a wave of bitterness that never came. Instead, she was left with a vague sense of emptiness, sadness, and confusion. Perhaps it was their nothing-short-of-miraculous escape from Bespin that had softened her resentment. The Force had certainly seemed to… intervene, somehow, what with that vision she’d had of Luke. She let out a breath.

Was he right? Could the Force be trusted? Was the Force truly, as her parents had told her—as she herself had once believed—at work in the galaxy, ensuring hope and light would never be fully lost? Luke seemed determined to think so, despite whatever he had suffered; despite whatever heaviness he wore on his heart that made her fear he might crumple.

Relating what had happened to Alliance Intelligence and the few present members of High Command after their arrival on the Remembrance was just as difficult as her conversation with Luke and far less rewarding. She was quizzed about every aspect of their escape from Hoth and their subsequent ordeal on Bespin. She found she couldn’t look anyone in the eyes as she told them about the particular torture methods the Empire had used this time, both sanctioned and unsanctioned. And it took every ounce of her resolve to keep from breaking down as she relayed what had happened to Han.

For a moment, her eyes darted across the table to Rieekan. He was looking at her with such sorrow, understanding, and compassion that she somehow wanted to both shrink away from him and fall crying into his arms like she’d once done with her parents as a little girl. He caught up with her in the hallway afterwards as she walked back to the Falcon to grab her things. “Leia,” he said, “If you need anything—if there’s anything I can do—”

“Thank you, Carlist,” she replied, echoing his informality.

He paused. “I know Intelligence wasn’t too happy about Chewbacca and Calrissian’s plans to leave for Tatooine, but I want you to know I’m behind them all the way.” He lowered his voice. “Han Solo was a good man,” he said, his eyes piercing Leia with a meaningful stare. “Don’t give up hope. We’ll do what we can.”

Nodding, she swallowed down the lump in her throat. She doubted the Alliance would ever be able to spare the resources to mount a rescue operation for one person, but she appreciated Rieekan’s support anyway.

“For so long I thought… I thought…” He stopped, shaking his head, and smiled at her wistfully. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

She smiled back at him. It felt foreign—had she smiled at all since Bespin?—but somehow her heart felt a little warmer.

After she had located her packing crates from Hoth and moved into her new quarters, she headed for the conference room she had reserved for her meeting with Luke, Chewie, and Lando. Their plan didn’t take long to formulate—by necessity, it wasn’t much of one; not yet. Chewie and Lando would scout ahead on Tatooine, locate Han, and figure out what they were up against. When the time was right, Luke and Leia would join them for the extraction. If High Command will let me, Leia thought cynically. If I let me. She was already feeling the pull of her duty to the Alliance and, along with it, the familiar impulse to sacrifice all personal desires.

She frowned, remembering where that impulse had gotten her in the past. She’d had no hope, then—for the Alliance, yes, but not for herself. It had not gotten her far. While she would still gladly lay down her life for the Rebellion, she could no longer neglect the things that made life worth living in the first place.

Somehow, she’d have to fight for both. She’d just have to figure out how.

~~~

The next day, after giving Chewie a goodbye hug—«Take good care of yourself, Little Princess,» he had said—she headed to Luke’s room in the medbay.

It was still too soon, she knew, for them to talk much about what had happened. Aside from the knowledge that he had fought Vader on Cloud City, she still didn’t know the details about what haunted him, and she didn’t ask. Likewise, she didn’t yet feel able to tell him about what had blossomed between her and Han on the trip to Bespin. Somehow, though, she felt that he already knew, and that comforted her.

Mostly, they were silent, taking solace in each other’s nearness. Now, in their suffering, they seemed to understand each other more than they ever had before.

The medical droid returned to activate the brand new prosthetic hand Luke had received the night before. Leia watched, mildly intrigued, as it ran a series of tests to ensure the hand had been calibrated correctly.

Artoo and Threepio, now whole, gleaming, and happily reunited, had come to visit, too. They stood uncharacteristically silent in front of the large window, looking out on the newborn solar system nearby. The protostar at the center burst with brilliant light, illuminating the vast clouds of dust and matter that ringed it. It was a spectacular sight.

Once again, Leia wondered at the depth of the droids’ sentience. Emotion and appreciation for beauty were not things one normally expected in a droid… but then again, homesickness and a longing for companionship weren’t, either, and she had learned that lesson well to the contrary.

“Luke,” Lando’s voice broke through the comm, “we’re ready for takeoff.”

“Good luck, Lando,” he replied.

“When we find Jabba the Hutt and that bounty hunter, we’ll contact you.”

“I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point on Tatooine.”

“Princess,” Lando said, his voice growing somber, “we’ll find Han. I promise.”

Another rush of emotion filled her at Han’s name. There’d been so many of those lately, threatening her with sudden tears, and she hated it. Better this than being numb and hopeless, she thought. Better this than never having loved him.

“Chewie, I’ll be waiting for your signal,” Luke was saying. “Take care you two. May the Force be with you.”

«Until our branches entwine again, cubs,» said Chewie. «I won’t be around to rip the arms off your enemies for awhile, so don’t get into too much trouble!”

Leia almost laughed, and Luke grinned back at her.

She missed Han’s laugh.

Her smile fading, she walked over to the window. He was out there, somewhere. The distance between them seemed impossibly far, the search impossibly long. There was a chance he was already gone forever. There was an aching hole in her heart that she wasn’t sure could ever be healed.

Luke came up beside her, and she glanced at him.

He knew. He understood.

He wrapped his arm around her, his new hand gently squeezing her shoulder. She leaned into him, taking a deep breath.

Whatever happened, she would be brave. She would love. She would live.

She would open herself up to a galaxy of hope.

And someday, she told herself, it would all be worth it.

It was worth it already.

The Millennium Falcon rose in front of them, soaring away into the stars.