#but in personality and mannerisms is INFINITELY the better choice of guardian for anyone under the age of 20

[blazingblorbos]

It's her day today

[matrixreimagined]

Matrix Gift Exchange

I had @thelivemouse​! Happy Holidays, friend! 

A Glitch in the Matrix; A Flaw in His System

Agent Smith existed in a world of certainty and fundamental truth. The Matrix, he knew, was his purpose. He was its chosen guardian. He existed to stop the chaotic Zionists and their mission of liberated anarchy.

Humans, it seemed, were unable to behave in a manner that catered to their best interests.

And that was why the Matrix existed. The system to govern the humans, teasing them with the illusion of choice, while driving them all to complete their purpose. To power the machines.

There was order in his world.

A reason for everything.

Until there wasn’t.

Smith could find no reason for the abrupt change that he sensed on March 11, 1962. His counterparts didn’t seem to find anything different but Smith knew that there was something wrong in the Matrix. Something didn’t belong.

It was nothing he could recognize; nothing surface level.

But something was wrong and it was distracting.

He checked to see if there was an update he was missing; perhaps there was a glitch in his own software. An easy fix.

But no.

For some inexplicable reason, he was drawn to the Matrix Stats. A program that kept track of everything from the blades of grass within the simulation to the number of programs within the Matrix.

He checked it all but found himself staring at the population. 380,111 new babies had been born on March 11 while some 156, 916 had been taken away, their bodies recycled in the real world to nourish the little ones.

Yes, Smith acknowledged, things were different. But like an update, he learned to adjust. After a while, those little twinges that something was wrong became normal, easier for him to ignore. And that was just what he did.

It would be years before Smith thought about that day.

Year more before he would understand the significance of that day.

Six years pass and Smith no longer gives thought to the odd sensation. Or was it a feeling? 

No, he decided, not a feeling.

He wasn’t capable of that. It was not something assigned to anti-virus programs.

It’s a winter day when Hamann and his crew break into an apartment building to free some moron who thought life would be better in the harsh underground city. But Hamann and his crew weren’t as careful as they should have been.

They managed a trace, missed the warning signs of deja vu.

When the Agents arrived, it melted into chaos.

Their potential red pill was killed in the crossfire, along with another from Hamann’s crew.

The rest escaped, running in different directions.

And the Agents gave chase, each in pursuit.

Smith had chased Hamann, following him through the halls. The man burst into an apartment building and jumped through a window to the fire escape. He took the steps two at a time and Smith was gaining on him when a small child climbed between them, looking down at the older man who was running down the stairs. 

Smith barely stopped himself from crashing into the child.

Casualties, particularly young ones, were to be avoided by the Agent’s mandate. And while accidents happened, he tried to avoid casualties. 

In hindsight, he should have walked around the child and finished his pursuit. He probably would have caught up to the terrorist and managed to put him down before he reached an exit. 

Yet Smith couldn’t seem to look away from the dark-haired child, staring up at him with large brown eyes.

“What are you doing on my fire escape?” The boy asked.

Smith scanned the child.

Thomas Anderson.

Date of Insertion: March 11, 1962.

Age: six years.

The date struck him, freezing him in place as he regarded the young child.

A coincidence, he was nearly certain.

The boy was only six. He could hardly be the cause of the discomfort, the strange sensation that had once caused him pause.

Thomas, he thought. From the Aramaic To’oma. Meaning twin.

But humans, it seemed, rarely chose names based on their meanings. Thomas was an only child. There was no twin, no partner of sorts.

Just a lonely little one, as lost in the world as anyone else.

Anderson, Smith noted. Meaning son of Andrew. Andrew, of course, meaning man. Son of man.

Again, highly irrelevant.

Little Thomas might not know it but he was the child of machines, composed mostly of organic tissue but with enough mechanisms that he was no longer entirely human either.

“Sir? What are you doing on my fire escape?” The boy asked again. 

A flash of annoyance spread through the Agent and it startled him. Annoyance was intrinsically human and Smith was far from it. As distant as one could possibly be from a fickle thing like emotions.

Before the boy could ask again, he said, “You’re dreaming. Go to sleep.”

“I’m not dreaming!” Thomas insisted, looking angry at the assumption.

“Trust me: you’re dreaming.” Smith quickly walked off, unwilling to stand and address the flash of annoyance, the anger that seemed ingrained in his avatar’s bones. All the while, the thoughts racing through his head.

Emotions are human.

Jones and Brown were down the street when he caught up with them.

“The girl made it out.”

“As did Hamann.” Smith confirmed.

“Their gunner is dead.” Jones stated.

Something sickly starts to grow inside Smith that the confirmation. It was dark and made him uneasy, almost nauseous. Programs didn’t get nauseous, Smith thought, but then, they also didn’t feel.

It should have been me to stop him.

Me.

A personal pronoun, indicating identity of the individual.

Smith was not an individual. He belonged to a tripariate program. A collective with a single purpose: to stop Zionists from freeing people.

They had done their job. Had managed to kill a few Zionists while at it.

The matter of who killed who was unimportant, irrelevant.

So why did Smith feel as though the world was shrinking around him? As if it were becoming infinitely smaller, taking his focus away from the Matrix and projecting it onto himself. And yet, selfishness was inherently human.

The earlier programs could experience things such as emotions. The Merovingian was a prime example of abstract hedonism. The Oracle was known for her compassion towards the humans. Even the Architect was mired with complex feelings towards the slaves, giving him the insight necessary to design the Matrix to suit their needs. 

But Agents had no need for feelings.

He ran the possibilities in his mind.

Perhaps there had been a malfunction, in which case, he should report himself immediately and be taken to exile. A new Agent would be created, reprogrammed to fix the inherently human traits that seemed to be prevalent in Smith.

But no, he thinks. Exile does not seem… pleasant.

Self-preservation, however, was a human instinct.

He wondered if it was worse than he initially thought but Smith ignored it all.

He would discover, over the coming months and years, that it was not all that hard to cover up the occasional flash of feelings that rise to the surface when dealing with the Zionites. He did his best to eliminate any sign of the virus within the Matrix.

Years pass.

All the while, Smith feels his distaste for humanity growing. He hides it under a practiced mask if only to protect himself from deletion. 

A few hundred people are freed, a few hundred more die.

New captains and crews replace the ones that grow old or are eliminated. Most act in quiet desperation, trying their hands at stealth and trickery, hoping to avoid the attention of the Agents.

And then there was the Nebuchadnezzar.

Led by Morpheus, the entire crew seemed to be operating on a single brain cell. 

But then the message came through. A human willing to act as a spy in order to be placed back in the safety of the Matrix. While it wasn’t impossible, it would be a waste of resources to do such. But the human didn’t need to know that.

Instead, they agreed to the deal and were given a name.

The new bastard that Morpheus determined was capable of destroying the Matrix.

“We have the name of their next target.” Said Jones.

And Brown finished, “The name is Neo.”

Neo.

A scan of the information at hand brought him to the owner of the alias. A picture of a tall, clean-shaven man with dark hair and eyes appears, along with a name and a profile.

Thomas Anderson.

For a moment, Smith was aware of his every synapsis. The speed of every thought that went through his program. He could feel his very avatar like a cage surrounding him, trapping him.

Thomas Anderson.

March 11, 1962.

The day the Matrix turned. 

Smith had never given any thought to Morpheus’ mission to find someone capable of destroying the Matrix. Smith had deemed it impossible long ago. 

But now…

New feelings are creeping in.

While before, Smith found himself riddled with disgust over humanity, frustration at his own limitations, and annoyance in others, he finds something new growing inside him.

A new feeling plotting and working its way through him, consuming him.

Anticipation.

Finding Thomas Anderson, confronting him, capturing him before Morpheus is able…

He doesn't buy into the concept of the One but he couldn't deny that the man was special. 

Now was the time for planning. Tomorrow would be the time for action.

And soon, Smith would find out for himself exactly how special Thomas Anderson was.

[crossdressingdeath]

Okay I’ve had a very long day and people are being super defensive of JC on my dash so uh. I’m gonna talk shit about him for a bit. Because it’ll make me feel better. And I don’t want anyone arguing with me about this so I’ll put it behind a cut and if you don’t want to read someone talking shit about JC in a super unstructured manner then... don’t click read more, I guess? 

So here’s one thing, to start. In The Untamed specifically, I can argue with near-absolute certainty that JC killed WWX. LWJ had him, and that guy is insanely strong; I don’t doubt for a second he could’ve pulled WWX up if he’d been given the chance. Maybe JC didn’t put a blade through WWX’s heart himself, but if he had stayed out of it WWX probably would’ve lived. I don’t know how long he would’ve lived, and I doubt he would’ve thanked LWJ for saving him, but he probably wouldn’t have died on that cliff. Hell, killing him quickly might have been a kindness; I’m not an expert on how far you have to fall to die instantly on impact and I don’t know how high that cliff was, but depending on how he landed and if he bounced off anything on the way down it’s possible (though maybe not likely) that WWX wouldn’t have died right away. If I had to choose between a quick death via a blade through a vital part or a more lasting death via serious internal damage from a very long fall... Yeah, I’d take the stabbing. Obviously I’m not saying that not being able to go through with killing his brother makes JC a bad person; I’m just saying that when his choices were doing nothing (which, reminder, here means letting LWJ pull WWX up (or at least try to)), helping LWJ save his brother, finishing WWX off quickly (JC is trained in combat, I’m sure he knows where to stab for the most merciful death possible under those circumstances), or letting WWX fall to his death... I just find it interesting that JC chose the latter.

Hell, even before that, if JC had done something sooner a whole lot of pain could’ve been avoided. (We’re out of the Untamed-exclusive stuff, by the way.) Now, I get that as a very new sect leader of a sect that was almost obliterated JC’s position is... precarious, to say the least. However! An awkward position doesn’t automatically mean he can pretty much abandon his brother! That is not how familial ties work! Especially when he never takes WWX’s position (which was equally precarious if not more so) into account while talking about how WWX abandoned him.

Put yourself in JC’s shoes for a moment, here. Most of your family is dead. Your brother, you know, was thrown into a hell pit and hasn’t been seen for three months. Then, joy of joys, you find him again! Except now your ever-cheerful, ever-kindhearted brother can raise the dead and, oh yeah, has spent all his time since escaping the hell pit that no one survives torturing people to death with demonic cultivation. What do you do in this situation? I’m fairly sure your answer was not “Throw him on the front lines as your most valuable weapon without giving him so much as a chance to come to terms with all the horrible things that have clearly happened to him”. Yes, yes, they were in the middle of war, but you don’t get to throw your very obviously messed up brother onto the front lines and then be shocked when there are serious consequences for doing that.

Also, going back to positions: People talk a lot about how JC’s position was so difficult, and I’m not saying it wasn’t, but... here’s the thing. WWX’s position was so much worse. JC is the sect leader of an old and powerful sect. The Jiangs might have lost a great deal, but there are still alliances he could call on, favours he could probably cash in, treasures reclaimed from the Wens he could use... He’s not exactly helpless. He has to be careful, but he’s not entirely defenseless. Meanwhile, WWX is the incredibly powerful demonic cultivator with a dangerous weapon everyone wants to get their hands on and a brother he’s known to have a somewhat strained relationship with. We see in canon that the sects are actively hunting for a chance to get their teeth into him after the Sunshot Campaign wraps up. All WWX has is his own power and JC’s support. I keep coming back to what JGY says at the temple, about how JC made WWX an easy target by making it obvious their relationship was rocky, and... he’s right. I doubt JC intended to do it, but he made it very easy for the sects to split WWX off from him. And while JC was still a sect leader and largely untouchable, WWX was infinitely more vulnerable. Again, I doubt he meant to paint a target on his brother’s back, but the fact that he missed it in favour of getting pissy about WWX being better than him yet again says something about him.

The fact that he says there’s nothing he can do after WWX absconds with the Wen remnants says... something else. Now, I’m terrible with politics; while he definitely should have supported his brother in a perfect world, with a sect to look after and JGS hunting for weak points I genuinely don’t know if he could have at that point. (Again, I really do think he should’ve tried to step in before things got to this point, but... well, he didn’t. No use crying over spilled milk and all that.) So okay, he couldn’t do anything. I’ll take him at his word; if nothing else, I can believe he was too bad with both politics and people and too inexperienced to find a way to step in. But he then takes his brother’s request to remove him from the Jiang sect to avoid any trouble coming to their doorstep and goes off and tells the sects that his brother is a traitor. Let me put that another way. He tells the people who are looking for an excuse to murder his brother and take his writings and inventions for themselves that his brother has betrayed them. I think we have reached the point where malice and stupidity become impossible to tell apart. Honestly, I can only see two possible thought processes for this: Either he actually wants to bring the sects down on WWX’s heads (unlikely) or he’s so terrible at politics that he genuinely didn’t realize what the logical result of his words would be (more likely, but means his parents did a terrible job of teaching him how to be a sect leader). Although, given he apparently spent enough of the 13 years between WWX’s death and resurrection spending so much time torturing demonic cultivators to death because either he thought they might be WWX or they just reminded him of him that most of the citizens in his territory are too scared to go to Lotus Pier for help unless they’re in imminent life-threatening danger I don’t think you can argue he was a good sect leader by any stretch...

Oh! Speaking of parents and teaching: Jin Ling. Now, part of this might be a cultural thing that I’m not familiar with, but JC is an absolutely god-awful guardian. Pretty much all he does is insult JL, belittle him, or threaten him. Yeah, he cares in his own way, but take it from me: When your parents (or uncle, in this case) spend most of their time insulting you but also keep you safe from any external danger and do their best to help you grow, you don’t end up a happy, well-adjusted adult; you end up miserable and confused because you can’t hate or like the person raising you and get stuck between love and resentment. JL is clearly desperate for affection, but he can’t admit that to anyone. It’s no surprise he mourns for JGY so deeply even after everything; the guy was pretty much the only one in the poor kid’s life to treat him with open, honest affection before he met WWX! The comparison between him and Sizhui (as the only other child raised by the main cast) is striking; even though LWJ seems like he should be just as bad a parent, he raises Sizhui with love and kindness, and so did WWX before him. And the result is... so very different. Sizhui is the very goodest of boys and I love him with all my heart. Anyway, it’s no wonder JL gravitates towards WWX and defends him once he’s gotten past his initial reaction of stabbing the guy; WWX is so open and explicit with his affection! Is he a perfect parent? No, probably not. But he focuses more on making it clear to his army of juniors that he loves them and respects them as people and wants them to be happy with where they end up in life than he does on making them fit his image of what they should be. Of course someone who’d be raised with JC copying his mother and constantly getting on their case about not being good enough would gravitate towards someone like that.

Okay, this is getting long. Last point: WWX has to put in so much emotional labour in their relationship even before everything goes tits up? The best example for me is the scene where WWX promises they’ll be together forever, Twin Heroes of Yunmeng, the huge promise that both JC and an annoyingly large portion of the audience think he should’ve kept no matter what. Yeah, out of context it’s very sweet, but in context? WWX has just barely recovered from the fight with the Xuanwu. He’s been conscious for... maybe an hour, at most? He nearly died. And yet he has to drag himself out of bed to chase JC through Lotus Pier to comfort him because JFM was paying more attention to WWX. Who, again, almost died. JC is so busy being pissy about this that he forces his brother, still recovering, to chase him through Lotus Pier to comfort him for something their parents did. Most of the time, JC has a right to be upset that JFM so obviously prefers WWX. Looking in from the outside the situation is clearly more complicated than he paints it, but I don’t blame him for not seeing how bad things are for the rest of the family. ...I know that sounds sarcastic, but I do mean it. His siblings are very good at hiding how badly their family situation has hurt them. Anyway, though, on this one occasion I am entirely on JFM’s side here. WWX threw himself into danger so JC wouldn’t have to go to the indoctrination camp alone even though he didn’t have to, then some time later JC returns alone and informs him that WWX is trapped in a cave with the Xuanwu of Slaughter, then when JFM finally manages to reach him the Xuanwu is dead and WWX is all but dead. I 100% do not blame him for focusing on WWX in this situation! He did something fully-grown cultivators with far more experience failed at and almost died in the process! Given JC must be... what, 16 at the youngest, probably older by this point? I would expect him to grasp that. He’s old enough to have developed empathy. Hell, he should be right there with his father and sister, proud of WWX’s accomplishments and relieved to see him awake and recovering. Instead, WWX has to drag himself through Lotus Pier and swear to stay by JC’s side for the rest of their lives just to get him to stop sulking because WWX was better than him yet again.

...Yeah, as you might have grasped, I don’t think WWX had any obligation to uphold that promise. He shouldn’t have been expected to be tied to Lotus Pier by a vow he made as a teenager to get his brother to cheer up. In fact, a very large part of me wishes he’d broken it sooner. Comparing the way JC treats him to the way the Wens and LWJ treat him (setting aside that those are of course very different kinds of love) I can’t help but think things might have gone infinitely better for him if he’d found a different family a lot earlier.

[silverwhiteraven]

Not a Rabbit in the Magician's Hat

Chapter 1: The Nutcracker

[A/N: Hello and welcome to my first ever chapter fic, second MLB based fic, third fanbased work, and fourth work I've worked on in earnestly in a long time!! Thank you so much for reading, and small shout to my FeliNette Discord Server peeps for inspiring me! I hope y'all like it~!! [Posted on Ao3] [Also the title is a bit of a WIP, it may change, eventually]]

[Summary: Félix is back, and with the same goal in mind as the year before. Only now, he has to plays the long game. And play a little more nice, too, except he's no longer on the playground he's used to, oh no. Now, Félix is among the heroes with a Miraculous of his own, and the playground is now a much more difficult battlefield with new pieces in play. And to top it all off, he has to deal with a whole new school and all the people inside. This is going to be tricky, isn't it? And to think, it wasn't a rabbit keeping a magician company, no, its a mouse or two keeping tabs on this master of slight-of-hand. At least it was somewhat fitting, even if he didn't like being called a rat every so often.]

Ladybug gazed over the scene before her, taking in all that she could. The Akuma, Mazer, had fused the walls of buildings together seemingly randomly, eliminating alleyways and cutting off streets, turning the city of Paris into a giant and infinite maze, much resembling a labyrinth with the Eiffel Tower at its center. Wandering between the walls of the giant maze were minotaur-like golems, chasing and trapping anyone they encountered.

Almost like a prize at the end of a game, Mazer's Akumatized object, a compass, hung in the air between the beams of the tower, surrounded by several layers of cage walls, too tightly woven to climb through and too far apart between layers to Cataclysm in one shot. 

Ladybug really didn't like this.

After long moments of quiet surveying and pondering, she did the first thing that she knew how to do best: summon her Lucky Charm for a clue.

Down from the sky and into her open palm came a Nutcracker.

She barely needed to glance around without seeing anything useful to know that this truly was a hint rather than an actual piece of a puzzle like her Charms usually were. It wasn't lost on her that there was a theme emerging. 

She looked at the maze, full of half-bull monsters needed distracted, then to the small spaces between the bars of the cages around the Akumatized object, then down to nutcracker, and lastly, almost reluctantly, up at Chat Noir beside her, watching her with silent curiosity and anticipation. She smiled with confidence in herself and her gut feeling about this.

"Chat, I know you trust me, and I trust you, too."

"Of course, Bug, what brought this on?" He tilted his head in a curious manner, a slight grin gracing his features. 

"Switching things up a bit. You're not playing decoy this time. In fact," she states almost mischievously as she stands, "you'll be finding one. I need to go get a Miraculous, and you get to pick who uses it."

She smiled as she watched him spring to his feet, excitement written all over him with the possibilities he could choose from. 

"Stay here, and don't get in trouble, I'll be back in a flash!"

She found herself curious, too, as she swung away through and over the walls of the maze, back towards home. She didn't know the right person for the Miraculous she was going to get, yet she had the feeling Chat Noir did. She looked at the Nutcracker in her hand, wondering if it would have a different meaning in Chat's eyes. 

She landed on her balcony and slid into her room through the open skylight, de-transforming and making her way below her bed to her work area, setting the Nutcracker to the side. Se knelt in front of a large box marked "Old Designs" that sat below the desk, opening it with a key hidden under her shirt. 

It was a large version of her diary's trap box, designed to keep the Miracle Box safe and secure. She pulled out the red and black Box, pressing one of the spots gently. The spot slid out, revealing a hollow, open topped tube with a Miraculous nestled into shimmering grey velvet.

She gently lifted the pendant necklace, the Miraculous of the Rat, out of its drawer. The theme she had noticed earlier had pointed rather obviously towards it. A maze, a goal where only something small could reach, and multiple enemies needing distracting by more than simply two or three heroes could provide. 

The nutcracker Lucky Charm hinted at it, too, the main enemy in the story The Nutcracker was the Rat King. But she had a feeling that it had more than one reason for taking that form.

She set the Miraculous into a round black jewelry box, which she had made to resemble the spots on the Miracle Box. She couldn't exactly reuse the old boxes from Master Fu, she didn't have enough of them, and she was guilty of wanting the smaller individual boxes to match the large one's new design. And design she admittedly didn't like very well. She wished the Box had been transferred to 'Marinette' and not 'Ladybug', but no time to dwell on that again.

Still, one of these days she was going to test if she can transfer it from her hero identity to her civilian one.

Locking the Miracle Box back up and transforming once more with Tikki, Ladybug grabbed the Lucky Charm Nutcracker and left her room, returning to Chat Noir who had loyally and wisely kept his distance from the Akuma and the minotaur golems. 

He looked to her, giddy and expectant, waiting for his instructions. She looked back at him with pride, full of joy for having him as a partner.

They had their rough patches in their first year, plenty really, but after she became Guardian and was faced with the need and requirement to know his civilian identity, things truly began to get much smoother.

She learned he was Adrien Agreste, one of her best friends, the popular, quiet and sweet model of the class. He was the boy who was so amazingly attentive to emotions that he helped her civilian self realize within a few days of meeting that she didn't have a crush on Adrian so much as a "squish": a want to be his friend. She had a feeling it was good that he spoke to her about why she was acting odd, she's quite sure things would have gotten a bit out of hand if her thoughts, emotions and behavior went unchecked. 

Learning his identity under the mask also helped to clear a few misunderstandings with Chat Noir. 

For example, Marinette had learned a few months into knowing Adrien that he was Ace. He still wanted a partner in life, he made sure to clarify that he was not Aro, and he paid much more attention to emotions because he wanted to be certain of who he wanted, who he would give himself to and who he would accept for himself. 

But his home life wasn't the best place emotionally, only getting worse after his Mother disappeared, and that followed him in his public life, too, including at school, so he didn't have many outlets for his canned affections for the people he loved and cared for. Learning this, she understood why Chat Noir would often be overflowing with energy and positive emotions, showering Ladybug in his abundance of love. 

He admitted he did consider her romantically, but only as a secondary to her status as his super-best friend. He respected her feelings, even from the start, and she appreciated it endlessly. Though she had to admit, it was rather confusing at first, and a bit aggravating when it came out at the wrong times. She didn't help much at first, either, as her attempts to be somewhat emotionally closed off and professional while behind the mask made their communication and even trust rather lacking. 

So learning he was Adrien allowed her to understand him far more, and lead her into working on herself for his sake as well, not just her own. She relaxed and allowed herself to be far more open, even invited him to outings around Paris, opening him up to vent all his pent up emotions, both negative and positive, and that in turn lead to better performances against Akuma. Chat hasn't been controlled or tapped out of existence in over nine months. 

It was truly a blessing for them for her to know, the good luck of it no longer disguised behind the stressful possibility of them becoming endangered by knowing.

In fact, barely a week after finding out, Ladybug told Chat that she knew, and offered to let him know her identity as well. He declined with the widest grin on his face, saying he wanted it to be kept secret, leave the reveal to be a special moment, or even something he might discover on his own. They laughed together, and she told him she wouldn't hide from him if he ever did decide to change his mind and take a peek behind her mask. 

But enough of that, ladybug returned his excitable grin and held out the black jewelry box and the red and black Lucky Charm. 

"Chat Noir, this is the Miraculous of the Rat which grants the power of Multiplication. You will find someone to use it for the greater good. As soon as the mission is over, they shall return the Miraculous to you, and you shall return it to me. I'm counting on you."

The sun was in his smile and the stars were in his eyes as he took the small box and the nutcracker. She just knew this was a good choice, she could feel it as deeply as their very bond ran. A bod she could feel strengthen as she trusted him with another new thing. He's her partner after all, a fellow protector of the lives of Paris, she would trust him with her own life, too, as well as the responsibility of all the Miraculous they had in their hands.

"I won't let you down, see you soon, Ladybug," and with that he was gone. She watched him go, waiting for him to disappear before she took up his spot of waiting and task or keeping an eye on the Akuma victim.

❇❇❇

It had been almost a year since Félix had last set foot in Paris. He has since mellowed out from his mischievous habits, grown aggressive around the time of his Father’s death, but it didn't stop him from still knowing and utilizing his skills when the need arose. The distance from the city however did no good for his grudges against either his family-in-law or the heroes of Paris. 

During a video call with Adrien a few months back, his cousin's father had walked in, reminding Adrien of a previously arranged engagement. He barely spared Félix a glance before leaving, yet the young Graham de Vanily still noticed a little, majorly significant detail about the old Agreste. 

A silver wedding band still sat upon his finger. 

Félix was suspicious in an instant, even going so far as to end his call with Adrien sooner than intended, and brought the revelation straight to his mother. They brainstormed together, considering the options and possibilities that this brought.

How did he have the other ring of the twin set? They thought Emilie had gone missing, her half of the set should have gone missing with her. They didn't like the churning of their stomachs that thought gave them, the Graham de Vanily pair didn't like the possibility that Gabriel Agreste could have something to do with Amélie's twin, Félix's aunt, Adrien's Mother, the man's own wife, going missing.

Félix may have had a grudge against Gabriel for having one the Graham de Vanily's family rings, but having had both while neither belonged to him, while Emilie didn't even have hers? It was unforgivable.

Trying to negatively influence the Agreste image through the use of his similar looks to Adrien was a jab at the old Agreste, but it had never been enough, especially now, in light of this disastrous news. 

Even that stunt with Ladybug wouldn't have worked well enough to knock the man down from his pegs. 

Félix had yet to tell his Mother the full extent of what had happened that day in Paris. He quickly realized afterwards that he regretted what happened, and would have regretted it still either way if he had succeeded. 

Kissing her would have gotten him nowhere with slandering the Agreste family. Ladybug seemed like the person to keep problems she had with people to herself, not make them public, so that plan would have failed anyway. Yet the kiss itself would also have been regretted. Giving his first to a hero he didn’t know for the sake of a half-baked hope to get a strike against the older Agreste, and have a little ammo against his cousin if need be, too, was a terrible idea, and there was no way he would ever attempt it, or anything like it, ever again. 

Even if it was for his Mother’s sake. 

There will always be other plans and strategies, he just needed to think of them, and think them through this time, no more spur of the moment ideas.

Still, Ladybug didn’t need to punch him as hard as she did… It was a good hit at least.

He may not hold a grudge for the strike that she was perfectly and fully allowed and entitled to do in reaction to his actions, but he certainly held one against the Black Cat. 

That stupid comment, how dare here, Félix thought. He really did non want to think about that, especially since it still hung true in spite of his better efforts. 

The young Graham de Vanily forced his attention away from himself and the past year, and instead looked out one of the dining room windows of the Graham de Vanily’s newest manor estate located in Paris, France. The city looked disheveled and unorganized, a true labyrinth maze fashioned perfectly for the latest Akuma. 

He hoped it was dealt with soon, he needed to go greet his Uncle Gabriel and Cousin Adrien at their manor later, inform them of his family’s plans to stay in Paris, hopefully without giving any real intentions away with failed attempts to cover up his seething hostility towards his Uncle and whatever he had to do with his Aunt Emilie’s disappearance. 

“Felix!” called an overly joyous and too familiar voice from behind, and the said boy, pulled from his thoughts, whipped around in alarm. 

Crouched on the dining room table just like any normal cat that shouldn't be there, a window open wide behind him, was Chat Noir, a cheshire grin and gleeful eyes locked and aimed directly at Félix. 

He decided to ignore the fact that there was an out of place, red and black nutcracker in one of the hero’s hands. His mother had joked he was just as stiff as one, once, and if he wasn’t so mean or even cold-shouldered towards people his own age, he would be just as princely as the one in the tale, too. Yes, he much prefers not to think of that at the moment.

As he looked at the Black Cat, Félix was starting to regret coming to Paris for another visit. He had a sneaking suspicion that the heroes were going to be popping up around him without warning all over again, and with more frequency now that his visit was going to be indefinite rather than limited to a day. 

Gods, he bet the Akuma were going to be showing back up to haunt him, too. Oh, what kind of luck he must have to have gotten this kind of fate.

Félix crossed his arms in a defiant, almost proud manner as he settled his weight on one foot and stared down the famous Black Cat of Paris. “What do you want, stray? I won’t have you mocking my friendships again, and I won’t be making the same mistake twice, so you can leave back out the way you came.”

Chat Noir looked momentarily shocked before hunching and smiling sheepishly, sliding off the table to stand properly on the floor. “I wanted to apologize, actually.”

Félix’s arms loosened with shock of his own, but managed to remain crossed. He looked Chat Noir up and down, looking for any signs of deceit. 

He found none, just a regular hero trying to make amends in the middle of a rather pressing Akuma attack. What odd timing.

He supposed, however, that almost a year wasn’t all that bad a wait for an apology, considering there really was no possible proper way for the hero to make an apology to someone living in an entirely different country. And he couldn't very well expect everyone to be like Adrien, his overly sweet cousin who would catch when he said something wrong before Félix had enough time to fully react and would amend himself just as quickly. He was lucky for his cousin, the least he could do was count his blessings and give others the chance to make things right as well.

Felix shifted onto his other foot a bit awkwardly and nodded once in a stern yet accepting manner. “Go on.”

The Black Cat seemed to relax at that, standing us straight and looking Félix in the eye with determination and a hint of respect. 

“Félix, I’m sorry, for what I said to you last time you were- well, last time I encountered you in Paris. What I said about your friendships was spur of the moment and defensive of the people I care for, but it was rude and mean, you didn’t deserve that. I would have apologized then and there, but the Trio of Punishers going after Adrien- well, you- arrived a bit too soon for me to do that. So I’m here now.”

The crashing steps of one of the stone minotaurs outside interrupted the black clad hero for a moment, and a look that seemed like he was reminded of something crossed the hero’s face, morphing his speech into something a bit more rushed.

“Right, anyways,” he continued, “I’m sorry, again, I really am. You don’t have to forgive me or anything, I just want you to know that I at least don't hold anything you did against you, for whatever reason you did it.”

The Black Cat then tilted his head a degree, a curious look on his face. “Though, I guess I would like to know why, I really should ask why before I do anything else.”

Félix sighed, dropping his head and shaking it gently. Of course the hero would ask, why wouldn't he. Adrien had been respectful enough not to pry, but this was a hero, a protector of an entire city, cat-like curiosity aside, he had a duty to know things and protect people with that knowledge. 

“I assume you mean my actions towards Adrien and his friends, and Hawkmoth as well. I suppose I can tell you, but I won’t hesitate to pull your tail and twist your ears if you tell anyone else besides Ladybug.”

Félix’s weight shifted once more and his arms uncrossed, hand set to his hips as he raised his head and looked the hero in his unnatural green eyes. Chat Noir mimicked his shifting around, though now his arms were the ones that were crossed, preparing himself for whatever he was about to hear.

The hero gave an accepting nod, “Not a word. Go ahead.”

Félix hesitated only a split moment before answering.

“I was after the Graham de Vanily twin rings, family heirlooms that Gabriel Agreste was in possession of. They’re important to my family, I wanted to get the one Uncle had, and give it to my mother. I had nothing against Adrien, not really, even if he did think I did. I was rather convincing in that front. No, It was all just jabs toward Uncle, even… even that rather brash and rash moment with Ladybug, which I do regret fully.”

Félix looked away for a moment as he continued. 

“I wanted Hawkmoth’s help in getting those rings, I figured he could do it when I couldn't earlier that day. I failed at that, but I did manage to get the ring from Uncle’s finger anyways before I left.” He looked back towards Chat Noir, who was considering him thoughtfully. 

“I did, however, find out some time later I failed anyways.”

That seemed to catch the Black Cat off guard for a moment. “How so? You have his ring, what could you have done wrong?”

“I underestimated him. I found out by chance that he had both rings.”

The hero’s eyes went wide in comprehension of what that could imply. The look made it clear that the Black Cat knew at least a little bit of the happenings of the Agreste family, and what a terrible thing it could possibly mean for Emilie Agreste if Gabriel really did have her ring while she was assumably missing. 

Chat Noir almost looked like he wanted to argue, to deny, and to question Félix more all at once, but he kept quiet, his mouth firmly closed. Félix let him stand there and ponder it for a moment before bringing up the much more pressing concern at the moment.

“So, Chat Noir, why are you here? Paris is currently under siege, right? Why be here making yourself on good terms with a citizen when you could be fixing that instead?”

The look of reminder crossed the hero’s face again and Félix almost wanted to roll his eyes at how many things this stray needed to keep track of. He almost felt a bit bad for him, today was clearly busy, if not a bit overwhelming.

“Right!” The hero got a look of excitement, “Now that's cleared up, I need your help! Well, want your help, but it would be purrfurrable if you did agree to lend a paw.”

“A paw.” Félix gave a mildly surprised yet very skeptical look. “What kind of, ‘paw’,” he quoted, hiding instinctive air quotes behind his back now that the cat themed hero decided to leak his puns into their serious conversation, “do you need lended.”

The smile of the Black Cat once more turned cheshire.

“Félix Graham de Vanily,” the destructive half of the Paris hero team spoke like he was a king appointing a new knight, his hand suddenly coming out towards him, a black box clutched in his fingers, “This is the Miraculous of the Rat, which grants the power of Multiplication. If you choose to accept, you will use it for the greater good. Once our mission is over, you will return the Miraculous to me, or Ladybug if I’m not there. Can we trust you?”