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mutemwija · 6 years ago

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Pridecember Day 24: Christmas/Believe

In which the dueling is done with sleighs pulled by a three-headed dragon and a thousand Kuribohs...

(This was actually written for last year’s Pridecember Prompt “Christmas” but since it fits this year’s prompt as well, I decided to post it here as well 🎅🌟)

Thanks to @siosiri so keeping me motivated enough to write it! 😘💕

I wish you all a very merry Christmas! 💝🎅

The ice-cold wind whipped around his face, stinging tears blurred his vision and his freezing hands gripped the reins frantically.

He needed to be faster than the wind, faster than the sun coming up before him. If he didn’t make it in time it would all be over. Life as he knew it would seize to exist.

It wasn’t usually like this in the night of the nights, the night he prepared a whole year for. Usually he had enough time to attend every child, to tend to them, even just a small moment. It was the best part of his existence – the waiting children, their from excitement and curiosity wide eyes as they sat with their families or stared out of the window to get a glimpse at him as he flew over them.

But not this year.

This year, the main clock that stopped the time for as long as he flew around earth, delivering presents, magic and hope had suddenly, without any prior warning sign simply resumed ticking.

And thanks to that fact there was barely time to take a breath – or a cookie for that matter. It was just aiming, striking, next and again aiming, striking. One shot off target, one second of hesitation and the plan would fail.

The only advantage was that people might mistake him for a shooting star if he dashed over the sky like that and he preferred to be mistaken for a dying star than for an UFO (which had happened before).

It was unsettling him greatly though. Never, in all those centuries he existed and did this job had the clock ever failed him – it was bound to his magic and the spell was technically impossible to break.

Now, someone had apparently found a way and he did have a very good idea of who that someone was.

He’d definitely need a very hot bath and a very hot chocolate with double caramel flavor when he got home today. If he came home unseen and impeccable as it should be and only after he’d given his new assistant a talking-to.

He was the only one he thought capable of breaking the spell of the main clock…

What was this mad man thinking? Manipulating the procedure like that?

How in the name of St. Nicholas had he even accomplished that?

Atem had many assistants over the centuries, some respectable, some ambitious, some idle, one even just a little bit too child-friendly but none of them could ever enrage, goad and fascinate him the way Seto Kaiba did.

Prideful, arrogant, bossy, gruff, infatu… no infuriating and aloof to name just a few of his dominant traits. He paced around North Pole as if he owned the place, not Atem, as if he had built it all and organized the most important night for thousands of years now, not Atem. And of course he was seeing improvements every where he looked. On more than enough opportunities he had to keep him and Mahad from kicking each other’s hands in, only to continue to argue with him himself. Granted, he was right with his suggestions from time to time but you just didn’t change century old traditions in a heartbeat.

On top of that the guy was ridiculously tall. It was a real pain in the neck that he had to look up at him all the time – literally.

But these eyes were the worst. These deep, expressive eyes, blue as the dusky night sky and clear as the ice surrounding them. He’d only barely kept himself from gasping when he’d stepped into the hall this morning, with his blue coat and white fur, looking like a very young, very handsome version of Father Frost.

He was like the forbidden fruit – ensuring misery but too appealing to resist.

And now he’d actually managed to turn Christmas Eve into a life and death race.

Atem was furious.

Partly because of the manipulated procedure, mostly because right now Seto with his monstrous dragon was in the damn lead.

Of course this wasn’t a race to determine the winner but a race to escape their discovery.

Still that didn’t mean that Atem didn’t want to win.

It was all very confusing.

He couldn’t recall the last time he had been racing the sky as fast as that, the last time he had felt so incredibly free. By now, the frosty wind burnt in his lungs, forced the tears horizontally out of his eyes and he was sure he’d lose one or two fingers if it continued like that any longer – and if the situation had been a different one he’d be crowing but now he needed to concentrate.

When and particularly how Seto had managed to fuse his three dragons into one, Atem had no clue. The whole flight over Canada it had been three but when their paths crossed again over Russia it was just one, but with three heads. With Mahad’s help he had been able to multiply his guardian Kuriboh into a number so large, the little balls were darkening the sky before they merged them into one giant body.

The presents were spread over Scandinavia in the blink of an eye and after that all that was left was the racing duel home.

Atem glanced at his side, suppressed a smirk and set spurs so hard he was sure he’d hurt Kuriboh. He would apologize later, now he needed to get home first.

Before the sun rose, needless to say.

If only to soothe his consciousness.

The dragon’s enormous wings cut through the air beside him but Atem kept his eyes straight ahead. If he got distracted now he would definitely loose (against the sun) and he simply didn’t want that. Seto’s ego was already bursting, he didn’t need another boost.

Gritting his teeth until they gave a cracking sound, Atem mustered the last magic he had in his body, transferred it to Kuriboh and slipped through the barrier around North Pole only by a hairsbreadth earlier than Seto’s dragons.

He heard him curse behind him but ignored the triumphant feeling inside him and concentrated on slowing the sleigh down and landing it safely.

The giddy sense of delight he’d felt in the last minutes vanished the moment the skids touched the ground and all that was left was anger and horror that Seto had dared to touch the main clock and risked not only their exposure but also and furthermost the spoiling of Christmas Eve for generations and decades!

Seto’s sleigh was still sliding to a halt but Atem had already walked, no stomped over to him, grabbed the reins of this exaggerated, gorgeous beast and pulled harshly at it. “Are you completely mad?”

Slowly and with his head held as high as his loss obviously let him, Seto stepped out of the sleigh. He was completely unperturbed by Atem’s rage and took his hat off with a peace of mind that brought Atem even more to the edge. If he weren’t so tall, he’d probably slam him into the sleigh right here and there but instead had to crane his neck again while Seto towered over him as tall and as proud as ever. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Feign your innocence somewhere else, Seto! The main clock has never failed me until this day and you’re the only one besides me who knows how enough to sabotage it.”

Blue clad shoulders simply shrugged. “So what if I did?! We made it, didn’t we?”

“But at what cost!” Atem gestured to the still dissolving, hard breathing and kind of pale looking Kuriboh’s. He had never summoned so many of them and if it wasn’t for Mahad’s extra magic, he wasn’t sure if he’d even managed it. The poor little fluff balls were completely exhausted while Seto’s dragons still roared majestically, standing their ground as proudly as their wielder.

“I really don’t know why you’re so angry.” Seto grumbled, his blue eyes now flashing with anger as well and Atem watched closely as he forced the next words over his lips. “You won. You should be happy.”

Atem groaned exaggerated.

Again with this stupid rivalry.

“I told you so many times that this evening, this job isn’t about being best, or being first, it’s about the children. It’s about bringing them happiness. It’s about faith and hope, peace and love. It’s a magical night, where anything can and shall happen.”

“Then why are we stopping the time and hide until it’s all over?”

“We’re not hiding, we’re surprising them. Secretly.”

“It’s not a secret when they all know it’s coming.”

“That’s not the point…”

“What is it then? So many children are looking out of their windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of you – how can you say this night is about them, when you don’t even give them a chance to achieve their wish?”

Atem swallowed thickly, hoping Seto wouldn’t notice.

“It’s just a race against time if we don’t at least slow time down! You saw for yourself how we had to rush because of it. What if something had gone wrong and we’d have had to make a detour…”

“It would have only increased the suspense.”

“And then?”

“Why not make them aware of the magic around them!”

“Because they could have seen us!”

“So what? Seeing is believing. You’ve been hiding for all these centuries and still expect children to believe in you starry-eyed because their parents told them to, because it’s what kids do? What if one day they stop? What, if you fade into the dust you were made of then? Is this what you want? You have to give them something to hold onto, something to grasp, a proof, not just an old as the hills, outdated fairytale. Your life depends on their believe!”

Atem narrowed his eyes. “So, you disobey my order because you’re worried about me?”

Seto ignored the sentiment but lowered his voice and glance nonetheless. “I did not disobey your order. On the contrary, I carried your… our task out and mastered it superbly. You know, I did.”

“What did you want then?” He asked tentatively, seeing no reason to question Seto’s work today. It was superb, just like he said (overlooking the manipulating of the main clock of course…) and watched his every movement, the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his side, how his jaw tensed and the reflexive blinking of his eyes as if he dared him to speak his mind. And Atem read him like an open book. “My appreciation… was it that?”

Seto said nothing, just stared at him, stared down at him defying, challenging, outraged that Atem had hit the nail on the head in his very first try.

The smaller man could only sigh. “You don’t need that.”

For just a split second disappointment flashed in Seto’s eyes but it was gone in such a quick way that Atem thought it was just a figment of his imagination and it got replaced with something akin to wrath. “Good to know.”

He was about to push past him, but Atem grabbed his forearm and stopped him, speaking gently and steady.

“You don’t need it because you already have it! Why did you think I chose you as my assistant? Just because I wanted someone to lecture and scream at from dusk till dawn?” He gave a short dismissive laugh, but actually it was partly true since he enjoyed their tiffs and arguments and the wretched fact was that he even found him, it, (damn it it, get a grip Atem!) hugely appealing. “I gave you the job because you have so much potential. You’re a real talent, Seto. In all these years, I haven’t seen anyone as studious and hardworking and thoroughly devoted to this task as you. And you take pride in everything you do and you’re absolutely sure of yourself… Just why are you striving for my appraisal so much when your self-esteem is higher than anything I’ve ever known?”

Blue colored eyes lay calmly on him belying the storm that raged behind them.

Because I admire you his mind screamed but his mouth formed the words “Because you’re the boss and everyone should strive to gain a better position than the one they already have.” instead.

Atem gave the dry, small laugh Seto always longed to hear when they argued. “I feel like I should be worried about my job…”

Seto shrugged as he stared unblinkingly at him. He could feel the cold of his fingers seeping through his thick coat and the wind-induced tears had left smeared traces at his eyes. A small part of him acknowledged this as his fault but since he had won he wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction of caring enough to worry.

When Atem finally let go of his arm, he shoved his hands into his pockets and took a small step away from Seto, his eyes not once leaving his. “I admit it was fun to race across the sky like that. Actually I haven’t done that in ages; it made me feel like a whippersnapper…” He grinned, the use of this word made him feel ancient despite the fact that he didn’t age at all. “But we can’t turn Christmas day into a duel against time. We will work side by side. Are you content with that?”

The fact that he asked, made it seem like he really wanted Seto here, at his side but he wouldn’t believe him so easily and straightened his back. “We’ll see about that.”

Atem opened his mouth to protest but suddenly didn’t feel like arguing anymore.

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose so…”

He’d said what he could say, maybe not what he wanted to say, but it was better than nothing, right? It was a start. And despite the look of it now, he was sure Seto would understand sooner or later. After all, he couldn’t blame him for trying to proof himself to him. Even if his methods were a little extreme.

“Anyway, we’ve done our work for the night. Take care of your dragons, get some rest and… take a look at the joy you brought.” The last part was uttered warily since he very much hoped Seto would join him to see how the children reacted to their presents (and the left-behind sweets and drinks) but wasn’t sure if his pride allowed it. He met his gaze once more, smiled gently and nodded once. “You’re dismissed.”

Atem waited for any sign of reaction but Seto just gave a small nod himself and with a heavy sigh, he turned around and walked away slowly.

But really he wanted nothing more than to stay where he was and look at Seto some more.

Groaning inwardly at his own thoughts, he clenched his hands in his pockets.

Why was he being so stupid? They should have a professional relationship, nothing more, nothing less. He knew it and he should act like it.

But damn, it was getting harder each day.

“Actually…” Seto called out and Atem’s heart as well as his footsteps stopped but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t trust himself enough for that at the moment. A moment of silence went by and he thought Seto had changed his mind when he spoke up again. “There’s one present left.”

That sentence brought Atem back from his sentimental feelings at once and reality hit him in the face colder and harsher than the wind in the sky before.

Forgetting a present was a thousandfold worse than the damaged main clock – it meant, somewhere out there was a child waiting and hoping in vain, it meant that he failed, when he was supposed to be unfailing and perfect.

Upon returning, he’d already activated his inner compass and tracking magic to find out just where he had to lead Kuriboh but stopped deadly in his track when his eyes fell on Seto again.

The present that was left, lied in his hand – a small, neatly in purple and gold wrapped package with a ribbon on top. Atem immediately recognized that it wasn’t from his factory, that it was individual and hand-wrapped and his eyes went wide.

“A happy Christmas to you.”

His mouth dropped slightly open and a shudder ran down his spine as Seto handed him the gift, his gift and Atem looked between the package and his assistant as if he expected one or the other to disappear in a cloud of smoke in the next second.

In all these years no one had ever given him a present – occasionally Mahad had given him a bottle of glogg at the end of the year but that was all. And why would anyone give him a present in the first place? It was supposed to be the other way round after all. Delivering presents was the reason for, the sole purpose of his existence.

He’d known from the moment he first laid eyes on him that Seto didn’t give a damn about traditions and rules at all and he had proven as much well enough already but this… this took things to a whole new level.

This showed him that his talent was exceptional and that he should indeed fear for his job but all he felt right now was pride and pure, unbridled joy.

Impatience and nervousness were starting to crawl up in Seto’s mind when Atem just stared at his gift instead of opening it and he stepped from one foot to another, clearing his throat softly. That had Atem looking up at him and he lifted his eyebrows, telling him to hurry up. It was obvious that the man was astonished, perhaps even flattered but that was no excuse to turn into stone.

Finally, Atem laughed apologetically and Seto watched him closely as he unwrapped the package slowly and carefully, obviously enjoying every second of it. Seto could tell from the bright gleam in his eyes that the other was dying from excitement and struggled to maintain his dignity like that, cold, red fingers trembling slightly as they fumbled with the ribbon.

Atem gave the smallest gasp when the paper was finally gone and it was all Seto needed to know that he hit the nail on the head. He noticed him swallow again before he slowly looked up to him and Seto hold his breath.

“I… Where did you…?” Atem stammered, wondering how Seto even knew he’d always wanted to have one of these, he’s never spoken of it to anyone. A small, reasonable part of him hoped it was just a lucky coincidence but he knew that couldn’t be because Santa always chose the right gift. It was the essence of his being.

He cleared his throat to steady his voice but he still sounded a little off. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Seto nodded as if he wanted to say that he already knew that but his eyes had taken on a gentler glow and his smile was a relieved one. As much as Atem liked that look on his face though, he suddenly felt so guilty that he hadn’t thought of getting him something as well.

One of Seto’s dragons roared softly, breaking the spell between them and as Atem watched him caress the shimmering scales of his guardian, he came up with an idea that had his blood boiling already.

“You know… maybe we could race again some time? Not… on Christmas Eve of all days but the year does have 364 other days, so…”

The smirk Kaiba shot him after these words hit him right in his core. “Prepare to lose.” He deadpanned with a low voice that Atem hadn’t heard him use until now and he shuddered again, this time from excitement.

He laughed to mask it and then smirked at Seto, throwing his words right back at him. “We’ll see about that.”

With that he turned on his heels and strutted away proudly, Seto’s gift safely enclosed in his hands, cold and exertion completely forgotten.

Seto watched him go and allowed himself to look at the other for a moment more before turning away too. He was glad it had worked out that well. Sure, it wasn’t the triumph he initially wanted but another, more amicable, sweeter kind of success. One he appreciated just the same.

And when he turned around once more to get a last look at his retrieving figure, he got the feeling that this was what Atem was talking about the whole time when he lectured him about dreams and hopes and the spirit of Christmas.

This was a magical night, where anything could and should happen.

#ygopridecember #prideshipping #seto kaiba #yami yugi #atem #my writing

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p-artsypants · 6 years ago

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Nine Lives (8) The Home

FF.net | Ao3

Chat Noir snuck into Master’s Fu’s home after his patrol. It was only 10pm, but the lights were off and Fu was fast asleep, snoring away.

Adrien dropped his transformation in the backroom by his little homework table, and opened his laptop.

“Cheese?” Plagg asked, hopeful.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Adrien winced and dug around in his backpack. “There’s only one wheel left. So don’t eat it all until we can get more tomorrow.”

Plagg groaned, but begrudgingly agreed, if only for his own benefit.

Adrien got to work on his homework. He had an essay due tomorrow that he was sorely behind on. He would have finished it earlier, but other matters took precedence.

“Pretty good speech you gave,” Plagg smirked, sitting on the top of his laptop. “Really got the media off your back there.”

“It was just a thank you speech for the mayor. I had to, there was no way I wasn’t going thank him. It’s a 1000 euros a month.”

“As long as you keep up with patrols and akumas.”

“Well yeah, obviously.”

“I can see why people would be protesting you.”

“They aren’t protesting me specifically. They just don’t want me to get paid.”

“Yeah, they want you to save their lives for free.”

“And you see how silly that is? You were the one who said I should turn Chat Noir into a living.”

“I did, didn’t I? Interesting...”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you think they’re protesting?”

“Well, in their eyes, Ladybug and Chat Noir allowed a citizen to be killed. And now they want money?”

Adrien frowned and leaned back against the wall. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, it’s a done deal. Paris will get over it eventually.”

“What does Ladybug think about it?”

“She doesn’t mind. She said if I need money, it made sense to ask for help. Fighting the Akuma is hard work.”

“Was she jealous?”

“I offered to split the check, but she turned it down.”

Speaking of checks, he pulled out the one Mayor Bourgeois had given him. Thankfully, it wasn’t a giant check like the ones they gave at sweepstakes. But it was clearly from the mayor, and the memo line read ‘To Chat Noir.’ So what was he supposed to do? Open a new bank account as his alter ego and then transfer money to his normal account? He rubbed his head. Secret Identities sucked!

“Ladybug is just too noble to accept money for her hard work.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Or, it could be that she lives at home with her parents, and she gets an allowance?”

“Please, what teenager passes up the opportunity for money?”

“The kind that recognizes that their friend needs help, now will you drop it? I have an essay to write.”

“Fine, if you won’t admit your guilt, then you can just suffer.”

Adrien groaned. Plagg, being his Kwami, had a tendency to pick at his nerves just so, and pick up on the emotions he wanted to ignore. “I keep lying to her. And if there’s anything I remember about Volpina, it’s that Marinette hates liars.” He was quiet a moment and thought back to that day. “I think I understand why she was angry though. Lila flirting with me, and lying about an affiliation with Ladybug to do it. Hmm, that makes sense.”

Plagg cleared his throat. “And?”

“And...I’m scared. I keep lying to her, but I know when this bubble bursts, it’s going to be ugly.”

“You don’t think she’ll understand?”

Adrien sighed. “I...if it were me, and Marinette faked her death to continue being Ladybug, and she didn’t confide in Chat Noir...I might feel betrayed.”

“If the situation was like that, then why would she confide in you? She’s the one who has been insistent on secret identities. Even after you found her out.”

“But this is an exception Plagg! I faked my death! That’s not something to hide from your partner! Not if you trust them…”

“But you did, and now you have to deal with it.”

Adrien frowned, falling silent. Then, “I thought you were thousands of years old. I thought you were supposed to unleash divine wisdom upon me.”

“You want wisdom? Fine. Wait. Like Master Fu said about the molten glass. You saw her bedroom walls. Eventually, she’ll move on from Adrien. Not totally, ever. But enough that it doesn’t sting anymore. That’s when you should tell her.”

“How long will that take?”

“Who knows. A few months? Weeks? Years? I know it took me three years to grieve the loss of my love.”

Adrien softened. “Your love? I didn’t know you were in love once.”

“Yeah, a real beauty. An aged cheddar packed in charred whiskey barrels. It sounds so simple, but the place that made it burned to the ground in the 1500’s. It was awful.”

Adrien scoffed. “Why did expect anything else…?”

“But now Camembert is my true love. I think I might love it more than I loved that whiskey cheddar.”

Adrien leaned his head on his knuckles, just listening to his kwami.

“The thing is, until I lost that Whiskey cheddar, I never would have loved Camembert. You following me?”

“Wait, are you saying that now Adrien’s out of the way, she’ll start loving Chat Noir?”

“No, I’m saying she’ll start to love you.”

“But—“

“New wisdom!” Plagg interrupted and zipped out of the room, startling Adrien for a moment. He returned a moment later, with a necklace in his grasp.

“This is my mom’s necklace?” He raised his eyebrow. It was simple, despite the wealth the Agreste’s had. His mother had once told him this was the first necklace Gabriel gave her when they got married. Just a thin chain and a pear cut diamond.

“These little flat parts are called facets.” Plagg explained.

“I know, I’m not five.”

Plagg hissed, perturbed to be interrupted during his ‘wisdom’.

“Uh, sorry, please continue.”

“Thank you. Each facet is cut very particularly to reflect light, and the gem looks different from each facet.” He dangled the jewel in front of the desk lamp, sending a bunch of sparkles across the table surface. “Adrien was one of your facets, but it wasn’t you. Your father made sure that Adrien was just what everyone wanted to see. Chat Noir is just a facet as well, a part of you that is constantly filled with adrenaline and confidence. Emile…now the name is different, but he’s the most you you’ve been. The boy sitting in front of me is the gem. Ladybug has to see past the facets to see you.”

Adrien stared at his kwami, and then at the necklace. After a beat, he put it on, hiding it under his shirt. “I didn’t know you knew so much about diamonds. I thought your expertise was only in cheese.”

“Cats like shiny things, silly boy.” Plagg stated, matter of factly. “Now I’m all wisdom-ed out. Hit me up in another ten years, and I’ll have another cheese analogy for you.”

Adrien scratched the kwami between the ears, his soft spot, and quiet purring filled the space. “You’re my best friend Plagg, you know that right?”

“Yeah yeah, you know how I feel about mushy stuff.”

“Oh, I know.” Adrien smirked. “But I just thought I’d remind you.”

“So I might as well remind you about your essay.”

“My essay!”

—

The next day, a bleary-eyed Emile walked to school. It wasn’t the first time walking, but everyday was as strange as the first. As Adrien, he’d never been allowed to walk anywhere alone. Though, he was honest enough to admit getting a ride to school in the mornings was nice. But he was beginning to enjoy his walks, as sleepy as he was.

He stopped at a cafe, and bought two coffees. One for him, and one for Marinette. It was a small gesture, one that he hoped was not too bizarre for Emile.

Emile would be stepping up his game. Chat would try to refrain from visiting her every night, despite knowing who she was. Because more than anything, Adrien wanted her to love him for who he was. It had been wonderful knowing that she loved Adrien for the gem shining through, so to speak, and not just the pretty face in the posters. But there was even more to him than that. A goofy, fun-loving, dramatic side to him that she was missing out on.

He entered the classroom a few minutes before class started, delighted to see his angel was there already, with eyes half closed.

“Good morning Marinette,” he chirped happily. “Do you like coffee?”

She blinked up at him in surprise. “I…do on occasion.”

“Would a free cup from a friend be an occasion?” He set the cardboard cup in front of her, watching with glee as her eyes widened and her mouth formed a very kissable ‘o’.

She smiled at him. “I will gladly accept your coffee! Thank you! I’m actually having a hard time staying awake this morning.”

He slid his backpack onto his seat and then sat on his desk, facing towards her, a very improper action, if he did say so himself. “I’m the same way! I’m such a night owl it’s a disaster. I used to wake up really early.” For photo shoots. “But now I can barely manage to make it to school on time.”

Alya leaned over the desk and mock whispered. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think you and Marinette are soulmates.”

“Alya!” Marinette flushed madly.

Emile just laughed, loudly, and without restraint. A very Chat Noir-esque trait.

Marinette’s face flushed a little more as she observed him.

“Oh please, it’s only been like two weeks since you showed up, and you already have a crush on the baker girl? Please, get behind all the other loser boys in this school.” Chloe spoke clearly, apparently ready to take Emile down. She hadn’t succeeded yet, since he seemed impervious to her ‘perfection’.

Emile turned his, literally, award winning smile to her and sang, “Jealous?”

Chloe sneered. “Ugh! As if I’d ever want you to like me, Quasimodo!”

“Reverse psychology, classic. Maybe someday you will win my heart, Chloe Bourgeois.”

Chloe scoffed again and turned her head with a little ‘hmph!’

“Uh...Emile?” Marinette asked shyly.

“Hmm?”

She was speaking quietly, so he had to lean in the hear her. “I...do you remember when we talked about Adrien? The boy who...”

He quickly stopped her from having to say it. “Yes, I remember.”

“Well, I...I kind of...really liked him. And since the whole...” she trailed off, her face pink, but her eyes downcast.

“I totally understand.” He smiled at her, softly, encouragingly. “It’s not really a crush, despite what Chloe thinks. I do think you’re cute, but I just want to be your friend. If that’s okay? You seem like a really nice person. Especially if what Master Fu said about you is true.” Another lie, but he felt justified in this case.

Her blush returned, with a horrified look to match. But she quickly covered it with a stutter. “No! I—sure! Yes! That’s great! Friends! You can’t have enough friends! Heh?” She bared her teeth in an attempted smile, as Alya whispered, “smooth...”

“Um,” she tried again, “I actually have a favor...”

“Shoot!”

“My dad threw his back out yesterday, and we’re supposed to get a shipment of flour later tonight. Nino and Alya are coming, but would you be willing to help with some heavy lifting?”

Emile grinned, “of course! What time?”

“Just after school. I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“That’s fine! My schedule is wide open!” And he loved every minute of it.

—

At lunch, the group met at the bakery, which was becoming a tradition. Even if they brought their own food, they still went to Marinette’s to eat. It was convenient, and the Dupain-Cheng household was just too cozy to pass up.

Emile sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in his hands, in complete bliss. It was an amazing feeling to be invited out by friends, and not having to deny them.

He almost began to purr.

As Alya was just at the apex of her ‘why Hawkmoth is on Hiatus’ theory, the door opened and Tom came in.

“Hi kids,” he smiled, hiding a wince. The back brace did not go unnoticed by the group.

“You holding in there okay, papa?”

“Your old man is as tough as nails. But once I get some ibuprofen and sit for a bit, I’ll be right as rain.” He fished the pills out of the medicine cabinet. “You kids wouldn’t be willing to help me out later today would you?”

“Marinette already reached out, and we’ll all be there to help!” Alya said, flexing her arm.

Tom laughed in relief. “Thank goodness! I couldn’t imagine my wife and Marinette doing it all by themselves.”

“How long will you be in the brace?” Emile asked.

“Oh the doctor said I have to wear this thing for three weeks, but I have to avoid heavy lifting for six to eight weeks. It’s gonna make things more difficult around here for sure.”

“What if I were to help?” Emile asked, sitting up and smiling.

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Oh, Emile, you don’t have to…”

“Of course I don’t have to, but I want to. You’ve been so nice to invite me along and give me food, it’s the least I could do!” And, he’d get to get in with the in-laws.

“Well,” Tom began. “I really could use the extra help right now. A strong young man! I’ll talk to my wife and see what she thinks. We wouldn’t be able to pay you much.”

“Oh no, you don’t need to pay me...unless it’s with cookies.”

Tom laughed, “alright, then I’ll talk with Sabine and see what she thinks.” And he left.

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.” Alya noted with a smirk.

“Uh, what am I doing?”

“You’re trying to get in with Marinette’s parents!” Oh, she was good.

Emile scoffed, but blushed at the look Marinette was giving him. “You were there this morning. It’s not a crush. It’s just…what friends do, right? I just want to do the right thing.”

Marinette reached over and touched his hand. “Well, you’d really be helping us out. I do appreciate the offer.”

Adrien blushed. Nearly all of his interactions with her as Adrien had been…awkward. To say the least. It wasn’t long before he ‘died’ that she was finally able to talk to him with full sentences. As Ladybug, she flirted with him, and teased him, and acted like a brave older sister. But this look on her face, it was totally new. Full of adoration and gratitude, with just a touch of helplessness. He returned the touch by holding her hand. “It’s not a problem at all. Like I said, I owe you.”

The group finished their meal, and Alya finished her theory on Hawkmoth, before it was time to return to school.

The rest of the day, Marinette kept staring at the back of Emile’s head. Maybe it was Alya’s conspiracy theorist tendencies rubbing off on her. But Marinette could have sworn there was something familiar about him. The blonde hair was strikingly similar to Adrien’s as she had the sunshine gold burned into her retinas after staring at him for two years. But his mannerisms were almost more like Chat Noir. A little dramatic and grandiose. Not quite as much, and not so annoying. And the puns, Emile liked puns and portmanteaus. But thankfully he kept them at a normal amount.

Perhaps she was only seeing what she wanted to see. Emile was sitting in Adrien’s seat, and was taking up the role of second boy in their little quartet. Heavens forbid he actually take Adrien’s place! No, no one could ever do that!

But he just seemed...familiar. Even his voice rang a bell.

He turned around in his seat and gave her a little smirk and a wink, and for half a second, she swore she was looking at Chat Noir.

But the scar convinced her otherwise. Chat had some scarring there too, but not as dramatic.

“Uh, Marinette? You okay? Or are you just stunned by my beauty?”

“Oh, no no. Sorry, I was lost in thought. What did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to work with me on the worksheet? Nino ditched me for Alya.”

“Oh! Sure we can work together!”

Emile beamed. “Just don’t get lost in my eyes, My Lady.”

Marinette was going to retort, but found her voice dry. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be...

After school, the group returned to the bakery, only to be enthusiastically greeted by Tom and Sabine.

“There’s our hard workers! Ready to haul ass?”

“Thomas! Language!” Sabine chortled as she elbowed her husband. “There will be snacks waiting for you after the work is done!”

Since the Dupain-Cheng’s had the extra help, they took advantage of them by not only unloading the delivery of sugar, chocolate, flour and other ingredients, but also doing some heavy cleaning in the bakery. This included moving entire displays out of the way to mop under them. All the windows and glass casings were washed and all the metal was polished.

Three hours later, everything was in its place and the bakery sparkled.

“Wow! It looks great!” Marinette chirped with pride. “Thanks for all your help guys!”

“No problem,” Nino grinned. “Now about those snacks…”

They all hustled upstairs and gathered in the kitchen. Laughter took place, as it resided with the Dupain-Cheng’s. It was a close friend with Alya and Nino, and an old friend of Adrien’s. What he wouldn’t give to have this everyday of his life.

“Emile?” Sabine asked, after a lull in conversation.

“Oh, yes?”

“Tom said you offered to help us during his recovery period.”

“That’s right,” he rambled. “I don’t have very much baking experience, but I’m available whenever I’m not in school. I can even get up early in the morning.”

The parents grinned at each other, before Sabine continued. “Well, I wouldn’t feel right about taking you on if we couldn’t pay you.”

“Oh no, that’s fine! I don’t need any money…but I’m like a cat, if you feed me, I’ll keep coming back!”

“Well, I was going to say…” Sabine continued her knowing grin. “We have a spare room, if you’d like to stay with us. We’ll pay you in room and board.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. He couldn’t possibly be that lucky, could he? Maybe it was because he was with Ladybug at the moment, maybe her luck was rubbing off on him. Or maybe it was her lucky charm in his back pocket.

“So, how about it, roomie?” Marinette nudged his arm.

“Yes! 100% yes! I was even—living with Master Fu is nice and all, but I have to share a room at his place. I was trying to save up some money for an apartment—“ He ran a hand through his hair, partly in shock, but mostly in joy. “I don’t know what to say! Thank you!”

“There are two conditions.” Sabine interrupted, her voice deadly serious.

“Yes, of course.” Adrien sobered.

“Number one, you have to keep up with your homework. School comes first. And number two…you have to join us for dinner and movie nights.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he looked at the smiling family. “I…” he choked.

“What, is that going to be a problem?” Tom nudged him.

“No, not a problem at all.” And everyone, including Adrien, was wholly unprepared for the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

“Emile?” Marinette asked, a careful hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry…I just…this is all I ever wanted. To…be a part of a family.” He wiped his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Later that night, Emile returned to the bakery with all his earthly possessions in tow. A big duffel bag, which held all his clothes, a backpack, and a smaller duffel for the fragments of his old life.

“Welp, here I am! Emile Fu, bakery gremlin.” He grinned.

Marinette had been the one to greet him at the door. “Bakery gremlin, huh?”

He hunched over slightly and spoke in a voice akin to Igor. “At your service, my lady.”

She laughed heartily, a wonderful song to his ears. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

It was across the stairway from the bakery. A small room, about the size of a college dorm. There was a little closet, a bed, and a table with a little lamp and two chairs. The walls were painted a soft blue, and there was a window with an alley view, just big enough for Chat Noir to fit through.

“It’s not much, but you can have it all to yourself.” She grinned. “The door locks, and the bathroom is directly above you.”

“Thanks Marinette, this is awesome.”

“No, thank you. My parents were actually really stressed about trying to figure out what to do. My dad can still bake, but there’s a lot of heavy lifting prep work, and deliveries. You’re their hero.”

Adrien smiled at that. A hero in more ways than one. “I wondered. If it’s just your family running the place, then I assumed there would be trouble without your dad being able to lift. I’m really glad I could help.”

“Then, I’ll let you get settled in. Mom and dad are working on dinner. Do you like quiche?”

“Love it,” he beamed.

Though she said she would leave him be, she found a question on the tip of her tongue, and so she leaned against the doorframe and watched him unpack. He took his, frankly atrocious, clothes out of his duffel bag and laid them on the bed.

“Are you going to keep watching me? Or are you going to help?” He teased.

“O-oh, yeah, I can—“

“I’m just kidding Marinette, you don’t have to help. There’s not much to put away.”

She blushed and knotted her fingers together.

“But you do look like you have something to say.”

Might as well get it over with. She thought. She glanced behind her, checking to see that the coast was clear. “Um…you—do you know who I am?”

He continued folding his clothes, not even looking at her. “Do I know that you’re Ladybug? Yes. I thought that was fairly obvious.”

Marinette turned slightly and rested her forehead on the doorframe with a groan.

“But don’t worry, I know it’s a secret.”

“Why do you know?”

It was time for another lie. “Well, Master Fu is 180-something, but he’s not immortal.”

Now that he thought about it, that was a problem. He might need to ask the old man about doing some extra training.

“Do you know who Chat Noir is?”

“Of course,” he answered easily. “Probably the coolest person on earth.”

She barked a laugh, “now you’re just messing with me.”

“I am not! That guy is too hot to trot! He’s purr-fection.”

“Ugh, and you sound just like him.” She rolled her eyes. “So,” she continued, nervously. “I have to ask. Who are you trying to be friends with?”

He smiled softly at her, and then fished out the necklace from around his neck. “These flat parts are called facets.”

“Right.”

“And each facet is cut very specifically to reflect light. And looking at each facet differently changes the appearance of the gem. Ladybug is one of your facets, and so is Marinette. I want to be friends with the whole gem.”

He hadn’t realized how close they had gotten until he looked up from the diamond. Her big blue eyes were glistening, just like the jewel. A light dusting of pink sat upon her nose, as she stared up at him.

God, she was beautiful. And she had been there all along. Just a little bit further and…

She stepped back, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Thanks…that means a lot.”

He managed a smile in return, though his stomach was twisting. “Of course.”

“I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.” And she all but shut the door in his face.

He sighed. One day, and hopefully soon, he’d tell her the truth, and they’d finally be together.

Plagg floated up to his face, a sneer on his face. “You rotten thief.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #ladybug #chat noir #marinette cheng #adrien agreste #marichat #adrienette #fanfiction #Nine Lives

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vehementdaze · 4 years ago

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Stages of heartbreak:

𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣

I had been through it. The cheating, the lies. But why? I wondered. So many questions flooded my mind. Which only seemed to be clouded with thoughts of him for weeks after he had ghosted me. While the sudden absence of him, knowing he was ignoring the countless messages I left for him, knowing he wasn’t returning to me? It broke me into thousands of pieces.

After the boy had cheated while he was away for modeling gigs, I was thinking of leaving him. But we never got to actually talk about the issue. That hurt, sure.

What did I do to deserve such heartache? Was it my father’s punishment? To have his daughter bawling her eyes out in his arms? Was it my mother’s karma for settling down and staying with a man she never really loved? Or was it my punishment for not wholeheartedly following my father’s footsteps?

𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙠, 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙤��, 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨

Happiness overwhelmed me when my childhood best friend and her family returned to San Luis Obispo for their annual family vacation. Michelle and I had grown up together, spending three months straight together every summer. Was I finally going to be able to get my mind off of the heartbreak by spending time with my lifelong best friend?

“Thank God you’re single this year!” Elle exclaimed with excitement radiating from her features. It was the first time I had the freedom to party as I wanted with Elle. The previous year, I was mostly staying in of finding other ways of drinking as I was with my ex at the time.

Laughter even flowed from my plump lips that were painted with a nude lipstick. “He was literal trash, and we’re going to get so fucked up tonight!” She continued on, stopping the collection of her long dark locks to look over at me. “Fuck him, Cami!”

With the breakup still feeling fresh, I needed the night out. Needed the freedom that went with being single in the club. So I made no protests against her; I only continued on with the small amount of makeup application before I dressed myself for the night.

Like usual, we ventured out into the nightlife of the city. That particular night was spent at a bar that was on the beach; it was our favorite spot, usually our first and last adventure of the summer and a place we frequented in between.

𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙖𝙡

I was fine. Everything was fine that first weekend. Drinks and laughs were shared; I had no boyfriend to send hourly check-in text messages to. It was freeing, like someone taking the collar and leash off an energetic puppy that just wanted to run around.

But the second weekend on vacation? The mistake was made to drink rum. Rum pulled out those memories I was trying to bury.

The memories were so harsh, cutting at my heart so viciously, it was almost as if he was standing before me, telling me how much he hated me. Telling me he left because I was not satisfying enough for his boyish needs.

Elle held me close those nights, stroked my long blonde locks and wiped away heavy tears from my cheeks. She even stopped me from sending several text messages and making even more phone calls.

𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧, 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡

Elle was able to pull me out of the low after a couple weeks; we even took a break from partying to focus on doing just that. When I did bounce back, I was ready for the parties, the drinks.

The weeks following the comeback, I held onto the anger of what I had let that boy do to me. I transferred all of that pain to anger and I carried it on my shoulders, in my heart. I didn’t let it stop me from having fun. We even met a guy that Elle grew fond of. Jackson grew just as fond of Elle, inviting us to countless weekends of free VIP at his club, as he was the owner.

When we first met the man at the club, it didn’t cross my mind that I already knew him. My mind was clouded with liquor and my thoughts with anger.

I had almost made it the whole summer without getting into any trouble. Almost.

It was our last outing of the summer before the Busquets were returning to Palm Beach, Florida. I waited to act out until our last party.

There had been another blonde in Jackson’s club. She strode in every Saturday night, tried to pick up Jackson with some stupid pickup line that would always fail then she’d stare at Elle and Jackson throughout the night. Every single Saturday, I grew annoyed with the other blonde.

Who is she? She was unknown until I finally asked Jackson. Nicolette... From then on, I would glare back at the female. Elle was far too sweet to say a word, to stare back. Instead, she wanted to drop the guy but I refused to let her. Despite Jackson’s presence in the crime world, I knew he had a good heart. While I was going through troubles with my own love life, I was happy for my friend to find someone.

Nicolette waited until the last Saturday in July to approach the group as we sat back in their VIP booth in a back corner of the club. Elle avoided eye contact with the girl as she sat, leaning her side into Jackson. The man had his arm around her, even had his head tilted to whisper in her ear when Nicolette made her approach. It was I that noticed her before she even got close enough to be heard.

“I was wondering if you’ll be free tonight after her,” the blonde spoke the words in an rather devious tone. Her bright blue eyes shifted over to Elle, rolling before settling upon Jackson again.

Before anyone could react, I scoffed. Shoulders jumped with the sound, teeth even sinking into my lower lip in an attempt to contain myself.

Having been cheated on, having been destroyed in that way, I couldn’t let another female do something like that in front of my own best friend.

However, it wasn’t but seconds later, when I tasted the blood I drew from the rough bite of my lip, I lunged.

My hand was holding a glass of wine and that was dropped to the floor, the liquid spilling with the shattering of the glass. Both dainty hands grabbed for the other blonde. Nicolette’s short hair was gripped tightly by one of my hands while the other hand shoved that palm into the woman’s face. With a hard pull of hair and the shove to the face, Nicolette was forced to spin around swiftly then fall to the floor. Once she was on the floor, I bent over her to throw punches.

It was all I remembered when I sat, with handcuffs digging into the skin at my wrists, in the county’s jail. Police showed up to the club and the girl was going to press charges against me. I sat in a cell until my father could pull my from that trouble.

And, when he did, the Spanish flew from his lips in such a rough voice it actually made her wince. While my father chastised me, my mother gave me a prideful smile.

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jewrocker · 4 years ago

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Biden’s “Impossible Dream”

Along with the other eighty-million Americans with an IQ over five, I too am doing backflips at the prospect we’re just weeks away from flushing this unprecedentedly corrupt and incomprehensibly cruel administration into the cesspool of infamy where they belong. However, as ecstatic as I am at the thought of an actual human being once again occupying the Oval Office, one must still be realistic as to what to expect going forward. Sadly, it seems, to the contrary of our president-elect.

President Biden’s statement that he intends to be a president ‘...to all Americans’, while admirable and more than a welcome change from the incoherent ramblings of the Mad King, seems to be more than a bit out of touch with what’s actually going on in this country in 2020, and beyond. While he may indeed devote every ounce of energy to this seemingly insurmountable task, unity is still a two-way street. Last we checked, there’s a massive concrete divider in the middle of this one. A concept that the president-elect inexplicably doesn’t seem to fully have grasped. Especially, considering, as a former vice-president, he lived through eight years of Senate Republicans sticking it to his boss every chance they got. I mean, “Hello, McFly?” Do you really believe Congressional Republicans are just going to snap out of their near twenty-year trance because you’re friends with them?

Exhibit One: Leader McConnell.

If you’re old enough to remember the Obama years, you’ll have no trouble recalling the now-infamous line uttered by that bastion of Honor and Ethics, Mitch McConnell. That being, “My only goal for the next four years is to make Obama a one-term president.” Aside from being borderline treason for a Senator to openly admit he’s going to spend every waking moment betraying his oath in order to achieve his despicably anti-American goal, “Moscow Mitch,” as he’s now affectionately known, hasn’t changed a bit. In fact, he’s gotten worse, and, thanks to his miraculous re-election in a state that had him at just an 18% approval rating, more emboldened.

After shamelessly defending our Russian-asset POTUS at every opportunity, including predicting the outcome of an impeachment hearing before it actually took place, the worst leader in the history of the United States Senate spent the past four years doing NOTHING, but filling an unprecedented number of conservative judgeships; including, surprise, the Supreme Court, where the louse seemed to actually revel in reneging on his own call to wait until after the election to choose a replacement for Justice Ginsberg. No policy. No compromise. No nothing. Nothing, that is, but increasing the deficit by trillions and making sure his corporate cronies are exempt from responsibility due to their shameful response to the pandemic. I guess that’s something.

Thus, unless our incoming president is suffering from severe amnesia, he should have no illusions that, following the Georgia runoffs (should Republicans maintain the stranglehold they currently enjoy), there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell McConnell, the demonic amphibian he is, will allow any dissenters to side with the president, on anything. Not a bill to curtail the amount of robocalls one gets on a daily basis, nor a motion to change the ketchup dispenser in the congressional cafeteria.

Exhibit Two: Trump’s Minions

If, after witnessing 126 House Republicans sign onto what is nothing short of a statement supporting the overthrowing of our Democracy, as well as several Republican Senators coming out in support of objecting to the States’ already-certified electors, anyone who thinks president Biden will somehow get these cockroaches to join hands singing Kumbaya, is living on another planet. In fact, from what we’ve seen in the last six weeks, alone, it’s fair to say Congressional Republicans are now more of a threat to our nation than ISIS. Yes, that ISIS. At least, the Islamic State have the decency to tell you to your face exactly what their objective is: The total destruction of American Democracy. Period. Modern day Republicans have proven they have the same exact goal; they just do it from within, disguised as “patriots.”

Exhibit Three: Seventy-Million Idiots

In spite of the Deplorables on The Hill, the biggest hurdle the president, and vice-president, have in front of them may very well be the American People, themselves. While there’s got to be a few million in the human Chernobyl’s base of seventy-million-plus who aren’t full-blown, racist psychopaths, there are still way too many who’ve shown they’re fully committed to the cult of Trump. Even now. Even though their government led them into a year-long nightmare of misery and misinformation: even as their apathetic leaders choose to bail out their billionaire buddies, while sending them a $600 slap in the face, they continue to support them. Unmoved.

Even though Benedict Donald has spent the past two months proving he has zero interest in/reverence for this Democracy and in a peaceful transference of power, truth is, outside of maybe a handful of ‘awoke’ individuals who’ve finally seen enough, he’s most likely not lost a single one of his hardcore supporters. In fact, many of them have doubled down in their support of the village idiot - going as far as to organize a “parallel inauguration” on Universe Two - the fantasy world where Trump will still be president (Most pundits refer to Trump supporters as living on ‘Earth 2,’ but their thinking is so alien to facts/common sense, IMO, they deserve their own universe.). These sad, sorry fools fell hook, line and sinker for the president’s claims of “fraud”, to the tune of stocking his post-election war chest with a cool quarter-billion dollars. Translation: you’re looking at an entire sect of people who have no basis in reality. So, who’s worse? The Trump supporter? Or the one who tries to reason with the Trump supporter?

These Trump-described “suckers,” who, in spite of everything they’ve seen, in spite of the fact we have a president who’s golfing while millions can’t even put food on their table during the holidays (those still alive that is) are still so consumed with hate for the other side, they’d rather see their nation brought to the brink of civil war than be governed by a Democrat. They’d rather elect a corrupt, bottom-dwelling QAnon conspirator to Congress, than an honest, sane liberal whose major crime is refusing to believe Tom Hanks and Bill Gates are partners in a global kiddie porn empire. Case in point, the more than dozen House seats that flipped red this past November, and, with them, some who actually believe the above. This kind of unhinged, spiteful, masochistic thinking suggests the hate modern day Republicans have towards liberals is greater than the love they have for their own children. Good luck overcoming that type of home-grown martyr, Mr. President.

Exhibit Four: Biden, Himself:

The welcome, sorely needed public comments seeking to reunite a hopelessly divided nation, notwithstanding, by stating what the New York Times calls “no interest” in pursuing any type of retribution/Justice, re: the myriad of crimes committed by this horrific administration, IMO, the president-elect has already stepped in it. Especially after the Georgia phone call.

It’s never a good idea to address your supporters, many of whom feel they’re owed some form of payback after being forced to watch helplessly as their Constitution was consistently used as toilet paper by a mob boss POTUS for four, long years, and, right out of the gate, say you’re just going to forget the whole thing. After all, this isn’t Nixon we’re talking about here. This is a thousand Nixons... on steroids. This is treason in all its forms. The attempt to “find” 11,780 votes, just one more than Biden, is the most egregious crime ever committed by a U.S. President. Yet, the president-elect continues to spew this type of disappointing, non-confrontational rhetoric. While hopefully just said for the cameras, it definitely gives many of the incoming president’s supporters, including Yours Truly, night sweats.

In fact, IMO, SDNY aside, letting these, spineless, racist, anti-American miscreants sail off into the sunset, with free health care for life and full pensions, on us, would be worse than all their crimes put together. As it will not only show the next corrupt bunch of lawless idiots to come down the pike they can do whatever they want and they’re guaranteed a free pass from the next guy, it will end our experiment in Democracy as we know it; as it will have all-but-proved the president is, in fact, above the law. I really hope I’m wrong. Fingers crossed Biden is just doing his job and saying all the right things, while privately working to nominate Sally Yates for A.G. IMO, should Ms. Yates get the nod, she will see to it Justice is served on all fronts. If not, you can bet there’s a damn good reason.

Mueller made the fatal mistake of playing fair with Trump and Barr, and their legion of sycophantic sheep in Congress, and wound up looking like a timid, outmatched eunuch. After living through the Obama years, after living through The Trump years, after seeing the literal definition of treason on a daily basis, it appears Biden is choosing to ignore these screaming red sirens and walk down that path, as well, at least with his words.

How much more proof does the president-elect need to know these individuals on the other side of the aisle are only interested in one thing? Total Dominance, by any means necessary. Even if it’s a flagrant violation of their oaths to defend The Constitution. Every single low-life choosing to join a wanna-be fascist in his reprehensible attempt to overturn our national election are only Americans by birth. That’s where it ends.

In Alan Parker’s classic film, Mississippi Burning, there’s a great line in the scene where the two FBI agents, played by Willem Dafoe and Gene Hackman, realize playing by the rules with these racist bastards will never get them the Justice they seek. Straight-laced Dafoe says, “Don’t drag me into your gutter, Mr. Anderson.” To which, no-nonsense Hackman replies, “These people crawled out of a sewer, Mr. Ward! Maybe the gutter’s where we outta be!” Here’s hoping there’s more of Anderson than Ward in our next president.

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melchixr · 7 years ago

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Curator’s Assistant (part four) ((finally))

Anon said: I just read your Currators Assistant fic and its? So good?? Do you think there will be a part 4 up anytime soon?

BIH my life has been wild lately. I’m writing and directing a play???? I’m morticia in addams family?????? I’ve written two short film scripts and I’m currently in the process of directing and acting in one of them???????????? life is wild. so sorry i haven’t been writing for this blog lately. i still love it so much i just never have time????

words: 1400

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

“That is the single most illegal thing I can think of.”

“Wendla, I’m begging you,” I pleaded and leaned against the desk. “I’ll do literally anything for you to tell me his address.”

The very pretty museum docent laughed. “You really think I am going to just tell you where this kid lives? You could go and murder him with that information! We all know that you hate him. It was a fact Hanschen used at Staff Trivia Night.”

Instead of asking why I wasn’t invited to Staff Trivia Night (which might be because I once told Hanschen to suck his own dick in front of a crowd on ten year olds when he got the year on a painting wrong), I just looked into her big blue eyes and pouted some more. “Melchi, I love you but you’re an idiot.” She said jarringly. “What makes you think I even know how to get that information. I just greet people who come in and tell them where the bathrooms are.”

“Well… Your best friend is the registrar….”

After a long pause, Wendla let out a long sigh. “Do you want me...To break into Martha’s office? Like a common criminal?”

“Well if she were still here three hours after closing, I would just ask her. But since we’re the only two here with no lives on a Saturday night, I gotta ask you. So pretty please?”

The woman stepped out from behind the tall desk. She was definitely beautiful. She had this charming, youthful glow about her that made her feel like a little girl. But she was in no way childish. Wendla had put me in my place more times than I’d like to admit. And with her wife, Ilse, being head of security, I pity any man who dare mistake that childish glow for ignorance. I once watched her scissor kick a grown man in a bar for asking her what color her panties were.

“Fine,” She muttered and glared at me with the rage of a billion sons. “But only if you tell me why.”

My defenses suddenly went up. All senses were standing on high alert as I responded instinctively. “What? I don’t need to explain myself to anyone!”

“If you’re having them do illegal activities for you, then yes, you do!”

Damn, she’s right.

After a pause to think, I took a deep breath. I was definitely not ready. But I didn’t think I’d ever be. As I spoke, I untucked the bottom of my dress shirt. “Ok so...Do you know how you felt they day you found out Ilse was your soulmate?”

Wendla looked at the red lettering on her forearm. Her eyes were filled with nostalgic joy. “Oh yeah... first day of senior year and she had just transferred to my school. And we were in English together. I thought she was funny and smart so I invited her to have lunch with my group. Then when she sat at the table and asked me what I was having….I felt like a thousand needles were pressing my arm.” She looke dup for only a moment, breaking out of her memories. “It was amazing…”

“Were you scared?”

“Not really,” Wendla replied. “I was so happy to have met my soulmate. And to have a soulmate so pretty and smart and charming. And also get to start having guilt free sex with her and know it was for the rest of my life.” She looked down to see me unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom. “What the hell are you doing?”

Instead of responding, I lifted up my shirt to reveal my right ribcage. What used to be covered in black writing was not dotted in a very light red. But what it was is still very obvious. “Because I was really afraid.”

“Holy shit, Melchior,” She gasped. “Why didn’t you tell anyone. Who is it?” Normally, soulmates are a big deal. You find out who yours is and you tell everyone you know. Your coworkers, your family, your dog, the strangers you see on the street. People tend to throw parties even, introducing themselves to the world as a sign that true love is everywhere.

But I let my silence speak for me instead. Just like how I was deadly silent the day it happened. Wendla knew almost immediately, telling by my expression. “Oh no… It’s Moritz isn’t it.”

I let my shirt fall back down and buttoned it again. “And the day after it turned, he resigned. Didn’t even tell it to my face. Just dropped it in my office on top of his completely cleared of desk. Didn’t even sign it.”

Wendla didn’t say anything. She seemed to just know immediately what she had to do and took off towards the stairs.

As I waited for courage in the dimly lit parking lot, I rolled over my options. A large part of my brain told me to toss the paper right out the window. I could just do what I’m good at and ignore it.

Ignore it by having sex with strangers who also hadn’t met their soulmate’s yet and playing pretend that the words on their body were my own.

Telling people who asked that I was one of the rare ones who just doesn’t have a soulmate and play pretend to be the one in a million.

Making plans to live out the rest of my life alone with a cat and a library and play pretend that I don’t want to wake up next to someone every day.

Just go home and take a cold shower and play pretend that the words are still black and I still don’t know who it could possibly do.

But my eyes trailed back to the piece of paper in the passenger seat. On it was a hastily scribbled address in pen along with a doodled heart and a small ‘go get him!’.

I couldn’t help but put Moritz’s face on all the fantasizes I’d been having since I was a little kid. Of taking my soulmate to a park and holding their hand. Going ice skating with my soulmate in the winter and cuddling in the taxi on the way home. Baking bread with my soulmate and messing up the recipe but not caring because they’re so cute. Having my soulmate steal my blankets from me in the middle of the night and getting revenge by tickling them until they beg for mercy.

All my life, that soulmate had been a blur. A shapeless, faceless form that carried all my hopes and dreams for a perfect life. Now it’s Moritz Stiefel with his dumb messy pouf of hair and his dark circles under his hazel eyes. And his long, pale face framed perfectly by that pair of crooked glasses that sat so precariously on his nose. And the splash of dark freckles that marked randomly along his cheeks and neck.

44 Oxford Street

Suite 2

And my car was pulling out of the parking lot.

Oxford Street wasn’t too far from Bellevue Road, where I knew Otto lived. And if I go from there onto Stoneybrook Street and took one more left onto Bradford Lane, it’s right there.

The apartments were smaller than I imagined. Just a little two story brick duplex. It was perfect split into two narrow halves with two doors, each other having a small front porch. That of Suite 1 had a plethora of potted plants all with little garden ornaments and trinkets in them, as well as an American flag and a “This House and My Heart Belongs To My Yorkie” sign.

Suite 2 had a dead plant and one overflowing ashtray.

My mind sure new how to pick them.

For a long while, I just sat in my car in front of the house. The neighborhood seemed nice, sorta busy, but still cozy. It seemed like a nice place to live. So why should I come barging in and ruining it all for him. He left for a reason. So who the hell am I to track him down after he very specifically did all he could to get away from me?

His fucking soul mate that’s who.

I made sure to not look back as I charged toward the front door on a mission to fall head over heels for this human trainwreck.

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