#i just realized i first watched miraculous also a decade ago

[beerose12]

cringe ask but does anyone remember that one ladynoir fic where ladybug tried pavlov dogging chat into not saying puns by kissing him but ended up training herself to kiss him everytime she heard him say a pun??

i remember reading it when i was like 13 and recently remembered it and i NEED to reread it for the nostalgia and comfort show of it all pls give it to me🙏🙏🙏

[deramin2]

Just watched Eternal Sunshine On The Spotless Mind again today. What am absolutely incredible film. Some of Jim Carry and Kate Winslet's best work. Absolute masterpiece of practical effects. Honestly it was so ahead of its time that I couldn't really appreciate it 20 years ago in the way I can now.

The first time I saw this film I was in high school and probably rented it at Blockbuster not too long after it was released. I heard it was good and arty, but it was Jim Carrey so I was expecting a stock favorite Hollywood romcom plot.

My expectation: The depressed schlub has a falling out with his manic pixie dream girl girlfriend and they both get their memories of each other erased. But then they meet and fall in love again which proves that true love is real and they were always meant to be together. And this time they all lived happily ever after and everything is just as it was meant to be. Your usual straight romcom trash plot with a dash of homophobia thrown in there to remind you this was 2004 (which aged like a time capsule).

My friends, I was confused watching the film with that expectation. The pieces didn't seem to fit. It felt disorienting, in a good way, but where I couldn't figure out the current in it's depends and it didn't feel like it was leading where I expected, only further out to sea. And those final two scenes felt so incredibly contradictory. Like it shouldn't have happened that way but I knew it was important that it did. I registered it as a good movie about the danger of trying to forget the past, but I didn't fully get it.

I always meant to go back and rewatch it, but I didn't. It just kind of simmered in the mental stock pot for a couple decades.

Well, today I was feeling deeply depressed about the state of the world and myself to the point that even when my partner and I could hang out and watch something, I couldn't even face watching the blorbos with him to keep caught up. And then Eternal Sunshine On A Spotless Mind slithered into my thoughts. Something I remembered he had never seen but might like. My depression comfort watch films are the most bleak depressing emotional trainwreck about whether people can ever heal their bullshit (odds favor no). Fortunately he's also a tragedy enjoyer.

And now with all the hindsight of my life, I realize this is a time loop horror film about a relationship caught in a toxic vortex that keeps dragging them together when they need to just get away and end it. They want the fantasy so badly that this time it will work and all this pain will be worth it because they can just change themselves through love miraculously.

But the horror and the tragedy is that they can't. That Hollywood story isn't true. It's ruining both their lives to keep believing in it. This isn't a relationship that can be saved or should be saved. It's poisoning them. Every single person in this film keeps holding onto the belief that if they can just put the past behind them and forget all of their mistakes, they'll make all the right choices next time.

What ends up happening is that all of them make the same mistakes over and over again because they don't remember the steps that led to them. Partly this is that the procedure itself is a sketchy as hell Torment Nexus. But also it's because it's impossible to erase every reminder of who you were then. And who you were together. The pull of that nostalgia is so strong that they all just tell themselves they can have the good parts while willing away the bad parts this time.

They can't. Their lives move forward in time but their experiences are caught in a time loop. Everyone making a string of mistakes that drag everyone around them into their own mistakes. Navigating the straits of their relationships, they're so scared of the shoal of ending up alone on one side that they get swallowed buy the whirlpool of staying together. Between Scylla and Charybdis is the channel where they leave for good this time to find out who they are without that person. And hopefully to find a safe harbor. But they will never find safe harbor with each other. They only ever end up sinking together. Being swirled around and then violently spat back out to try again.

Maybe Hollis and Stan got away. That was the only chance at a happy ending for them. I'm glad that the film doesn't tell us if it works, just that it's still important every time people try. Trying to just start over and over with the same person even though it always ends in misery is not romantic. It's a horror story. And our protagonists do not get away.

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 1

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationship

Length: 1.4k

Notes: Okay, here we go! Giving our babe Frankie an ending he deserves, with a few bumps along the way for fun. Divider by @firefly-graphics 💛

It was almost comical, you thought, at how different the realtor's listing was, compared to the real thing. You’d seen it enough times in bad Hallmark romances: city girl buys a property, property is falling apart, city girl miraculously has the funds to fix it up with the help of the perfect farmer neighbour.

This was reality though and you had already poured your life’s savings, which amounted to very little after all the surprise debts had been paid off, into this farmhouse. 

The "Quaint New England farmhouse, filled with the patina of a bygone era" was a wreck. Nothing to be done about it now, though. The crumbling two-story, just a few minutes drive from the small Vermont town, hadn’t been occupied in over a decade and was now in a total state of disrepair. 

Swallowing back your tears, feeling the burn behind your eyes and the hot swelling in your throat, you told yourself there wasn’t time for a breakdown. You first needed to take stock of the depth of damage, decide which rooms were habitable enough for the time being, clean, unpack, and prepare yourself for this new life.

The next few hours went by in an exhausting blur. By late evening, there was a larger-than-expected pile of rotten, broken, or otherwise unusable furniture in the driveway; your meager few belongings taking their place. On top of renovations and remodeling it appeared you would also be refurbishing. 

Sitting on the porch in the one spot where you felt confident the decking wouldn’t crumble beneath your weight, you looked over your list.

 3 cracked windows (can wait?)

 no running water in kitchen (ASAP FIX!)

 missing shingles (bad??)

 deck boards and upstairs bedroom floorboards rotten

 carpeted bathroom

 questionable smell coming from attic space 

peeling wallpaper/paint EVERYWHERE

Folding the list and slipping it into your back pocket, you made your way back inside to discover one last glaring issue, previously unnoticed until now. The electricity had been shut off.

Well, fuck me sideways...

Deciding it was too late and you were too tired to deal with anything else today, you settled for the flashlight on your cellphone for light. Eating the apple you had nicked from the motel lobby the night before, you laid back in your makeshift bed on the floor and gazed around your new home.

Your home.

The first thing you had ever owned on your own.

First, the corner of your mouth quirked up then you quickly allowed it to flourish into a grin. It may be a piece of shit, but then again, you were always attracted to broken things with the innate need to fix them. Maybe this time you’d actually succeed. With that sobering thought, you settled down into your sleeping bag and were quickly asleep.

Frankie couldn’t believe his eyes when he drove past the old McClure farm. Some fool had actually bought it! Chuckling to himself, he could already imagine the gossip that would spread through town tomorrow, everyone clambering to find out who had moved in.

He had moved out this way five years ago and was still considered the “new guy” in town. Hopefully, the new arrival would take that mantle and everyone could start using Frankie’s actual name. 

He’ll probably just be dubbed “newer guy”...

Breathing out a huff of a laugh at the thought, Frankie began to turn down his driveway. The long, meandering drive leads to a barn surrounded by rows and rows of apple trees.

Two weeks after having moved in, you’re certain you’ve met, or at least seen, everyone from the town. Muffins, pie, casseroles, and even a case of cider had been brought over by a few of the braver townsfolk who drove out to say hello. While they may have been thinly veiled excuses to come snoop, you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain. The food was delicious, and best of all, it was free.

She had stayed for most of the afternoon, helping you clean and setting her kids about to do menial chores. The eldest, Cole, was sent scurrying up the road to tell his dad to bring Gerta. ... You dared not ask.

The very first visitor was a neighbour from just down the road. “Jacquie,” she had informed you over the noise of her four kids running around the yard, “How do you do?”

She said it with the barest hint of a southern drawl and you instantly fell in love with the soft cadence of her voice. With a beaming smile and a surreptitious wipe of your dusty hand on your pant leg, you shook her hand and introduced yourself. 

A short time later, the most devastatingly handsome, all-American-looking man you had ever seen climbed out of a tractor and started carrying a large object towards the house, Cole at his heels. 

“Jac, babe, where d’you want her?” He called, voice straining a bit due to the weight in his arms. Smiling at you, he nodded his head in greeting, "Hiya, neighbour! The name’s Mark"

“Oh, I don’t need it,” Jacquie replied airily “I just wanted an excuse to watch your muscles at work.”

With a roll of his eyes, that did nothing to hide the adoring sparkle in them, her husband carried his load to the side of the house and with a thump, set it down.

Turns out that Jacquie had a fondness for naming EVERYTHING and Gerta was their gas-powered generator. Claiming they had no use for it, Gerta was yours to keep for as long as you needed her. Which, you had to be honest, was looking like a good long while. Willing away the tears, not for the last time you were sure, brought on by her kindness, you settled for giving her a bear hug. It wasn’t until you heard a little voice calling “Mama?” that you realized you had been clinging to Jacquie for longer than could ever be considered acceptable.

Pulling away gingerly, you started to apologize, quickly stopped by her hand coming up in front of your face, making you involuntarily flinch. 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry!” She started to exclaim before taking a deeper look at you. Then, without breaking eye contact, she tilted her head to the side and hollered at Mark to gather the kids and head home.

“I’ll be back past bedtime, so come give me y’all kisses now!” She lovingly bossed her brood.

Once they had cleared out, she turned to you, gently taking your hands in hers, and said, “Now, where do you want to start?”

“What kind of voodoo, witch doctor, hippy-dippy magic do you possess?!” you asked with a laugh while sniffing back the lingering tears. 

You had just laid out your entire life to a complete stranger. She had sat there, the whole time, holding your hands and your gaze while you had talked. Everything, you had told her absolutely everything. From the California upbringing in an affluential family to marrying your Highschool Sweetheart days after graduation. The sudden move, his surprise enlistment, his changing demeanor, the beginnings of abuse, all ending with his death while stationed overseas.

The pathetic Death Gratuity from the military barely covered the truck. You’d had to sell everything in order to settle all remaining debts. Your parents had offered to move you back home but the thought just made you ashamed. Moving back home? Being seen as a victim, being pitied by those who had seen your potential wasted? No way.

“Nothin’ supernatural, Darlin,” she assured you, after taking a deep breath to steady herself. It appeared that your emotions had started to affect her as well, you noticed with chagrin. “just the power of a good friend and a strong cider.”

Then came the aftermath. The debt collectors, the funeral without a body, his family claiming anything of value and you meekly allowing it, unaccustomed by that point to standing up for yourself. His grooming of you had started so early, and so slightly, that no one had seen it happen. He had controlled every aspect of your lives; it had made you feel like a fool during that first month as a widow. How could you not know about the multiple maxed-out credit cards? The ignored truck payments? The bank loans?! 

That comment made you look around and laugh, breaking the morose atmosphere in a flash. Scattered around the two of you were at least a half dozen bottles of the alcoholic beverage, which you had both sipped on during your sad monologue.

“Ahh, so it’s the maker of the drink I’ll have to kiss,” you proclaimed with a laugh. “I just saved a fortune in therapy bills!”

With a sly smile, Jacquie nodded, “That you will, send him my best when you do.”

Part Two

[dessarious]

The Angel of Death Pt37

Inspired by this Story Starter by @someone-ev​

AO3   Prologue   Beginning   Previous   Next

“I would like to formally request that you train me to fight.” Tris looked up in confusion to find Kagami standing in her doorway. The girl seemed serious and she didn’t usually make jokes; it was one of the reasons Tris actually liked her. At the same time, it didn’t really make sense.

“You’re being trained in fencing and two forms of martial arts. I’m sure your skill is already adequate.” Kagami’s hand twitched slightly towards her neck and Tris realized what brought this on. They’d been attacked, almost two weeks ago, and Kagami hadn’t been able to put up much of a fight. “You were caught off guard, training how to fight and reacting to real life situations can be very different things.” The girl just scowled at her.

“You were caught off guard as well yet while I was useless and couldn’t even defend myself you knocked out both attackers and saved me.” Tris sighed as she tried to come up with an explanation that wasn’t the truth. Partially because it would be safer for Kagami if she didn’t know but also because she didn’t want another person here acting like she was a bomb ready to go off. Adrien and Chloe both tried to hide it but ever since Brazil they’d been treating her differently. Whenever The Angel of Death was mentioned in the news they’d be whispering in corners and walking on eggshells for days after and this had been going on for close to four months now. Tris didn’t want to admit it, but it was driving her insane. She now had an almost constant urge to sneak up behind one or both of them and shout ‘Boo!” and she had no idea where the impulse was coming from.

“You know how I told you that Chloe used to bully me?” Kagami nodded and Tris decided half truths were her best option. “Well there were a lot of people that used to bully me, and many of them were a lot more physical. I learned to fight by being attacked and I learned to survive by being able to find and utilize my opponents weaknesses quickly. It’s not about being well trained or knowing the proper forms. It’s about seeing an opening and taking it no matter what it is and no matter what you have to do.” That was true enough. In the league Talia had believed in a trial by fire method of training for her. Just like that first fight with Damian she’d always just been thrown into situations and forced to react.

“That does not seem… fair.” Tris actually snorted with derision and Kagami eyed her warily. “I just mean that it doesn’t seem very sporting.”

“There are no rules in real life. All that matters is doing what it takes to survive. Honor is meaningless to the dead.” Kagami just stood there frowning at the floor and Tris waited for another lecture. She didn’t get one.

“Then I want you to teach me that.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was how they ended up in the lobby of the Grand Paris the next weekend. Tris was trying to teach Kagami how to spot physical infirmities and weaknesses to exploit by pointing out different gaits or even the way a person held themselves. Luka, Adrien, and Chloe had all decided to tag along but she wasn’t sure why. When she asked they just said the two of them shouldn’t be left alone together.

Tris was in the middle of pointing out a gentleman who had obviously suffered a recent back sprain when the boy next to him drew her attention. The smug, superior way he held himself, the walk that said ‘get out of my way or I’ll go through you’, the way he seemed to look down on everyone and everything around him… she knew that pose. She knew that boy. Before she was even aware of her intentions she was stalking over to the duo as the others called after her. As she got closer he turned to look at her with that same haughty expression and she felt rage consume her. His expression showed recognition and shock for only a moment before her fist made contact with his nose. Her knee went to his stomach a moment later and he was on the floor.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” She only vaguely realized she was screaming at him in Arabic, too consumed by fear, anger, and pain to process much else. She watched as Damian rose from the floor and glared at her.

“I was.” That was it. Tris felt the sneer on her face but didn’t have time to wonder at the uncharacteristic reaction.

“I should have known you’d follow in your grandfather’s footsteps. I’ll only say this once so I suggest you listen. If you, your mother, or any of the degenerates who still follow you try to come after me they will be finding pieces of you for decades. And don’t think for a second that you know me or my skills well enough to stop me.” His expression flashed to annoyance for just a moment but it was enough for her to prepare. When his hand shot out to grab her neck he only caught air as she stepped in to trip him. She had to fight down a smug smile at his obvious confusion when she pinned him to the floor. “I know your fighting style better than you do al Ghul. Consider this a warning.”

“M. Wayne I am so sorry! Chloe get this hoodlum out of here!” Tris was finally brought back to her surroundings by the Mayor’s voice. Shit. What had she just done? Damian hadn’t even seen her, let alone figured out who she was, what the hell had possessed her to out herself like this? When she released him, Damian just got up and dusted himself off.

“It’s fine Sir. We’re old friends, though I’m sure it was a strange greeting to witness.” Damian never took his eyes off her as he spoke and she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. The boy was still bleeding from her first punch and he expected that to explain things.

“Oh well… if that’s all then… are you sure you don’t want me to at least call the Police to file a report?” The man he was with must be extremely wealthy for the Mayor to be falling over himself like this. What had he called him.. Wayne? She finally looked at the man’s face and realized exactly how screwed she was. How could Talia possibly have formed an alliance with the owner of Wayne Enterprises? With those resources at her disposal there was no telling what she was capable of.

“Everything is perfectly alright Mayor. My son is simply a little rambunctious; it’s nice to see someone who can take him down a peg or two.” Son? Only her luck could possibly be this bad. He switched to Arabic to address her. “I’d very much like to continue this discussion. Perhaps in private?”

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[blubberingmess]

Magnet fishing (Bucky x reader)

Summary: you have a hobby and that is magnet fishing, always expecting a few metal scraps and weird, random thingies but one thing you didn't expect at all is a man with a metal arm.

Word count: 1787

Note: I don't doubt a person with a single neodymium magnet disk could lift someone like Bucky out of a lake... possible but tough.(just an opinion)

*check out my masterlist for more shits :)*

You finally have a place you could call yours, a bit far out from the nearest village but it's fine, you like the serene atmosphere this small secluded place gives.

The said place you are talking about is just a small cabin, old but still livable. Plus, it's warm and still sturdy after years of abandonment. You got the cabin for less than what you've expected which is quite a steal.

When you decided to buy the place, the seller's eyes almost roll out from their sockets at how wide his eyes went. It got you confused and asked why, and the answer is kinda weird and also downright ridiculous.

An organization called "Hydra" once scouted the area for years a few decades ago, looking for something rather important. Up until now, rumors spreads around that what this Hydra organization were looking for is still out there.

No one dared to go anywhere near the location, not even the bravest of souls. it's a ghost story the adults tells the children whenever they got curious about the said place, that a monster is resting beneath the waters of the frozen lake-- exactly where the cabin is just a few meters away--, ready to attack the person who is stupid enough to trespass it's sanctuary.

"--Who is stupid enough to trespass it's sanctuary," the old man finished, eyes narrowing at you as he emphasized the word 'stupid'. You just nodded your head and thanked the man, grabbed the keys to the cabin and walked away.

It's not just the solitude from civilization that got you interested in this so called 'sanctuary of the unknown', it's becasue of the frozen lake - You're a magnet fisherman--woman--, a hobby of yours. It's illegal on some places so you don't do it quite often despite having a permit, also, you have your own business back in your hometown - winery.

Magnet fishing is a dirty work and most of the time leaves you with just metal scraps, nails, and a few rocks. But the satisfaction you felt is oh so great when you got something more valuable; some lost things and some antiques that values a hefty amount of cash.

So when you heard about the lake, the cabin; both a mile and a half away from the nearest village, you immediately packed all your things and bid your family and friends goodbye back in your hometown.

"Let's check this baby out!" You grinned, pulling out your newly bought neodymium magnet disk from your bag and a long nylon rope. Thankfully, some part of the lake is already melted so you don't have to break the ice yourself.

(Fun fact: neodymium magnet is the most widely used type of rare-earth magnets, also used as jewelry clasps. But they do not significantly attract gold, aluminium, and silver. Which I didn't know until I made this fic. *shrugs*)

It's been a good ten minutes and your magnet still haven't caught anything. Huffing in slight frustration, you hauled your magnet back from the water and changed your position to the other side of the lake.

Once again, throwing the magnet as far as you can and mentally pat yourself in back when it submerged quite far off from where you are standing.

It didn't took you long before you felt something stick to your magnet, a slight pull of the rope indicates it. As you tried to haul the magnet back up, you were shocked at the weight. It's almost unrelenting that you feared it'll slip off from the magnet and with a lake like this, there's a little chance your magnet will find it again.

"Easy, easy," you whispered to yourself, calming your nerves before giving a firm yet strong tug. It works as you felt the mystery metal goes unstuck to wherever it was. Carefully pulling the disk back to the surface with much more effort than you would've though, you finally caught a glimpse of metal - a bit rusty but still shiny looking.

Slowly, you took a step forward all while still gathering the rope and almost stumble down on the thick snow when you noticed what the metal is; a hand. It didn't stop you as you kept on pulling, to the point where the hand finally hits the snow and realized that it's not just a hand.

It's okay, you thought to yourself. It's just an arm shaped metal, must be from a statue.

But you are wrong. As you cautiously walked towards it, you catch sight of something that makes your heart jumps out from your chest and it's definitely not in a good way.

The metal arm that you thought was just from a statue is actually connected to a person; a man - a dead, frozen man

"Holy shit!"

You gulped, staring down at the frozen corpse in front of you. From his chest down still submerged in the cold, icy water. The cold air seeping through your thick clothes yet your palms are sweating as you stand there not knowing what to do, hands tightly wrapped on the nylon rope, just staring at a dead man with a metal for an arm.

This is terrifying, you need to call the police. You mentally groaned remembering that there's no signal around here, but you have your snowmobile so you could use that instead.

Contemplating if you should make a run for it and call the cops from the village or just kick the corpse back in the lake and walk away like nothing happened; maybe even book the next flight back home.

Sadly, you can't do the latter... corpse float.

The magnet is still attached to the metal arm so you gave a strong tug hoping it would separate from the corpse, but sadly, it wouldn't budge.

A small curse and another pull.

A loud curse and another stronger pull.

Frustrated, you were about to scream-- maybe even cry-- when you suddenly saw movements coming from the metal arm, precisely, the fingers. It twitched and so does his body, you grew terrified when his head slightly turned to the side, his back slowly rising and falling, breathing weakly.

"Holy... shit."

.

.

.

"Hi officer, yes, he's alive. I saw- I mean, caught the man from the lake with a magnet disk..." You groaned and shake your head, downing the rest of you wine.

You can't just mention a magnet disk, you don't know if magnet fishing is legal in this part of country - or should you say area.

Fuck me. Forgot to ask permission.

It's been four days since you hauled the man from frozen lake, changed him from his wet, heavy looking of what seems to be his tactical gear to something comfortable; an oversize shirt(on you, it is) and a baggy pair of sweatpants. Not an easy task but you managed to do it.

The man, he isn't some normal fellow you'd see anywhere. There's something more, maybe he's the "something" Hydra is looking for? Is he the ghost? Impossible, it's been decades since that happened. The organization stopped looking for him decades ago.

Who is he? Why does he have a metal arm?

Questions began running around inside your head, different kinds of possibilities that mostly lead you if not in jail; six feet under. Just the thought of it makes you want to vomit and choke on it until you pass out - maybe you could receive some kind of pity and let you off the hook.

You felt yourself slightly gag at the thought of choking on your own vomit.

"The only things I'll ever be choking on is pizza and my future husband's dick," you grumbled to yourself, glaring down at the empty glass in your hand before sighing and turning around.

You suddenly come face to face the man you called 'corspe' multiple times in your head four days ago for twenty minutes, standing strong and tall, an aura that practically screams "touch me and I'll break your neck."

He watch you watch him in fear and curiosity, body rigid and alert for what's about to happen.

What's about to happen?

.

Ten years later...

.

"And that's how I met your father," you finished the story, grinning down at the little girl in front of you.

She 'oh'ed, staring up at you with her big sea blue eyes, full of curiosity and amazement. "So he's the ghost?" She asked with her squeaky voice, grabbing the last cookie from the paper plate between the two of you and began munching on it.

You chuckled. "I would say 'a really clumsy man who fell from a flying helicopter while running away from the bad guys' but yeah, sure."

"Awesome," she whispered-yelled making you laugh at her cuteness, scooting closer towards your daughter to wipe off the crumbs from her cheek.

"So this is where my girls are hiding." A familiar voice sounded from the small entrance of the tree house. Looking over, you saw your husband climbing up the ladder.

"We're not hiding, daddy!"

"Of course you're not, princess." He sat himself beside your daughter and raised a brow at you, a smile on his face. "But your mother here is."

"I'm not hiding, daddy," you repeated your daughter's words, fluttering your eyelashes at him with a grin on your face, biting your lips to prevent yourself from laughing.

His eyes darkens but he kept the smile on his face, pretending he didn't caught the look on your face he know all too well. "Yes you are, honey. Anyways, what are you two talking about?"

"The day you first met!" Your daughter beamed.

"Really?" Buck's eyes flickered at you for a moment as he spoke.

The little girl nodded her head enthusiastically. "Yup! It's so romantic," she sighed dreamily but she frowned when she pat the paper plate and found it clear from those delicious cookies Wanda baked for her.

"Oh, the cookies are gone, can I get some more, mommy?"

"Okay, sweetie. Be careful on your way down."

The two of you watched your daughter climbs down the ladder with ease, already familiar of the steps and the safe places to put her feet on.

After a moment of silence, Bucky speaks up. "You didn't told her about me frozen under the lake for three decades, did you?"

"Nah. Told her I saved you from drowning while I'm fishing at a random lake; miraculously woken you up with a kiss."

"That sounds ridiculous."

"Also, don't worry, I didn't tell her I jumped your bones on the fifth day of knowing you."

@jasondean1972 I saw you reblogging and liking my posts while I'm editing this, and I love it 💛 don't worry, I think I'll be making my android!Bucky one-shot a series.

[laprincesaelena]

EOA Discord Ship Appreciation Week Day 3: Growing Old Together

a/n: hey everyone! sorry i’m a day late on this one, once i start writing something, i tend to like, not stop, and that’s what happened with today’s fic lol, it took me much longer than i expected! but, regardless, here it is! today’s fic is a bit different, focusing on a different couple (though, there are mentions of gabelena lol, but you could always fill in gabe’s name with your character of choice :) ), our beloved king raúl and queen lucía!!

basically, this fic is a what if. what if the king and queen of avalor’s story had gone slightly differently? what if king raúl and queen lucía hadn’t even left to work on the carnaval floats before shuriki arrived? in this au, raúl and lucía receive the happy ending they deserve, and they live to see many more family moments and milestones than they would in canon.

(also, for the sake of the fic, let’s just say in this au, avalor gains a new ruler once the heir becomes of age, not when the current ruler dies. okay? okay :) )

anyways, before i do exactly what i did while writing this and write wayyy too much, i’ll stop myself here. a quick thank you to everyone who’s been liking, reblogging, and leaving wonderful comments on my fics so far, you don’t know how happy they make me!! and a very special thank you to @procrastinateland , for providing the beautiful art to go along with the fic!! hope you all enjoy!!

fic is below the cut!

“Got everything, cariño?”

The queen of Avalor was busy packing the carriage with boxes full of colorful decorations to decorate their latest float for the upcoming Carnaval celebrations. Carnaval was Lucía's favorite time of year, and she always looked forward to designing, building, decorating, and of course, riding aboard the kingdom's infamous Carnaval parade floats. She and her husband, King Raúl, were headed to Castillo Park to check up on the progress of the floats, and to add a few touches to their own.

"Yes, yes, everything's here!"

One could barely see the king steadily walking down the steps of the palace, for he was carrying a stack of boxes that rose to practically over his head. Lucía couldn't help but shake her head as she turned to see this sight, and met him at the bottom of the stairs to help him out. She reached up to take the box at the top of the stack, revealing her husband's face behind it.

"Need a little help there?" she joked.

"I may have underestimated my balancing skills.." Raúl replied, beginning to place the rest of the boxes in the carriage. "But luckily, everything arrived in one piece!"

"We aren't even to the park yet, don't speak too soon!" Lucía responded.

"Have fun, you two!"

The royal couple turned to the sound of Luisa's voice, who stood at the door of the palace with her husband, Francisco, and Princess Isabel, who was waving goodbye to her parents. The two waved back, and Lucía blew a kiss to her youngest daughter.

"Thank you!" Lucía called to them. "We'll see you at dinner!"

Just as the king and queen were about to step into the carriage, the sky suddenly began to turn gray. Large clouds rolled in, some of them having a dark green hue to them. Raúl protectively wrapped his arm around his wife as they stepped back, trying to get a sense as to what was going on.

Suddenly, floating out of the green haze, emerged a figure. The closest royal guards rushed to step in front of the monarchs, their swords drawn, ready to protect their rulers at any given moment.

Lucía tightly held onto her husband, and noticed how his face began to grow pale. As the shadowy figure approached, Raúl instantly recognized their identity.

"Shuriki.." he whispered.

At the very sound of her name, Lucía could feel her heart sink. For the past few months, Avalor had been involved in various defenses alongside their allied kingdoms against the wicked sorceress. Thankfully, all of these efforts against her had been successful, and Shuriki had not been able to take over any of these kingdoms. But as it turned out, Avalor was the next target on her list, and they were gravely unprepared.

"Everyone, inside! Now!" The voice of the captain of the guard echoed throughout the courtyard as the royal family quickly made their way into the safety of the palace. But they knew a few troops were no match for Shuriki, she could infiltrate the palace in a matter of minutes. A plan had to be put in place, now, or Avalor didn't stand a chance.

For little Isabel, all of this happened in the blink of an eye. One moment, she was waving goodbye to her parents on the palace steps, now her and her family were running for their lives, having mere moments to reach a safe haven. A moment later, the princess had a sudden realization. Her abuelos were here, her mamí and papí were here, but one member of her family was nowhere to be found.

"Elena!" she called. "Where's Elena?"

Raúl had been calling out orders to royal guards and staff members as they rushed through the halls, but hearing his eldest daughter's name immediately shifted his strong demeanor. His Elenita was nowhere to be found, and was possibly unaware of the danger she was in. He frantically looked around for a moment, hoping Elena would miraculously appear.

"Elena!" he called, quickly checking in each room they passed. "Elenita!"

Lucía too, joined in on the frantic search for her daughter, but a moment later, she felt just the slightest bit of hope.

"The amulet!" she cried. "The amulet, the one we gave her for her birthday last year, will always protect her from harm!"

"But what if this sort of magic is an exception?" Raúl asked, fearing the worst. "Or what if she doesn't have the amulet on? We have to find her, Lucía!"

"Ay, don't put those thoughts in my head, cariño!" Lucía replied. "I hope we find her before we escape, I truly don't want to leave without her, but she has magical protection, we don't! Hopefully this will all be settled before we even need to escape, so we can-"

But before the queen could finish her sentence, a magical blast was heard from behind them. Shuriki was closer than they thought, they had absolutely no time to waste. The royal family picked up their pace, before they encountered their royal wizard, Alacazar.

"Come, come quickly!" he called out to them. "I have a spell to protect you! But we must perform it now, or it will be too late!"

The royal family had no time to decide on where their hiding spot would be, or where they would escape to if Shuriki did manage to take the throne. Their safest and fastest option was Alacazar's spell, so that would have to do. The wizard quickly explained that this spell would protect them inside of an enchanted painting, one that not even magic as powerful as Shuriki's could touch. As the family posed together for their 'portrait', Lucía couldn't help but think of her oldest daughter. In her final moments outside of the frame, she prayed for Elena's safety, that the amulet would protect her from harm, and that once Avalor was freed from the wicked sorceress, their family could be safely reunited. The Castillo-Flores family held each other close as the incantation was recited, and a moment later, a new family portrait, with one missing princess, was displayed on the wall.

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41 years later...

"Tlahcuilolli apartad, tlahcuilolli apareced, tlahcuilolli vivid!"

Elena bit her lip and clasped her hands tightly together as she watched Mateo recite the spell that would hopefully free her family from the enchanted painting. She had missed her family so much being separated from them for forty one years, and so hoped that she'd be able to finally reunite with them.

A moment later, a magical haze encircled the painting, and soon, the silhouettes of her family were pulled out of the portrait. Once the haze had cleared, Elena saw her family, safe and sound, as if no time had passed at all. Tears of relief filled her eyes as she ran right over to her family, being met by a tight embrace by her little sister.

"Isa!" she cried as she held her sister close. "Oh, I've missed you so much.." Elena then pulled back, just to take in this moment that she'd been dreaming of for so long. Isabel was still the adorable, intelligent, and innocent little girl she had last seen all those years ago, even down to the dirt stains on her dress.

Then, Elena looked up at her parents, who looked just as relieved to finally be free and reunited with their family.

"Mamí, Papí!" she exclaimed, and pulled them both in for a hug.

"Oh, Elenita.." Raúl said, holding his baby girl close. He feared if he let her go one more time, he would never see her again.

Lucía too felt her eyes fill with tears as she embraced her daughter for the first time in decades. "We were so worried about you, mija.." she said, before cupping her daughter's face in her hands. "You're alright..you're safe..the amulet really did protect you!"

"It did.." Elena replied with a nod, placing a hand on top of her mother's.

Elena then wrapped her abuelos in a hug, she had missed all of her family so, so much, and it felt so good to finally be reunited with them. But, Shuriki was still on the throne, their fight for the kingdom wasn't over just yet.

After a short but sweet family reunion, Elena, along with the Enchancian and Avaloran royal families, made their way onto jaquins to join the revolution stirring in the villages below. With the help of the brave people of Avalor, the forty one year reign of Queen Shuriki was brought to an end. Avalor was finally free once again, and the royal family was reunited for good. It was the happiest day in all of Avalor, and kingdom would rejoice for weeks on end. That day, it seemed as if life couldn't get any better. But, the kingdom's most prosperous and happy years were yet to come.

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Four years later..

Raúl and Lucía stood proudly beside the Avaloran throne, in a ballroom filled with dignitaries, family, and friends from all over the world. Their beautiful Elenita was turning twenty years old today, but that wasn't the only event the kingdom was celebrating. After four years of experience as Crown Princess, along with learning plenty about ruling from her parents and grandparents, Elena was finally ready to become queen of Avalor.

Trumpets sounded to announce the princess' arrival, as the chief of the castle announced, "Crown Princess Elena Castillo Flores, please come forward!"

The doors to the ballroom were opened, revealing the future queen. Elena was dressed in a breathtaking blue gown, with floral embroidery across the bodice and bottom of the skirt. A red velvet robe trailed behind her as she carefully walked down the staircase. As she made her way to the throne, Elena smiled at all who had come to celebrate this day with her. Though her stubborn sixteen year old self insisted she'd be able to rule all on her own from day one, she knew that she wouldn't be the ruler or woman she was today without each and every person she passed by entering her life.

But, who had supported and guided her the most of all through this difficult journey was her family. Elena would often think of if her family hadn't survived the ordeal with Shuriki all those years ago, and how she would have ever become queen without their love, support, and guidance. She was so, so grateful they were here with her today to crown her, she had no idea where or who she'd be without them.

Once Elena reached the throne, she pulled each of her parents in for a hug, before turning to face the crowd. She stood as regally as she could for her last few moments as crown princess. Armando gently handed the crown to the king, who would have the honor of crowning his daughter the next queen.

Holding the crown above her head, Raúl took a moment to look down at his daughter, so proud of the woman she had become. He then announced, "It is with tremendous pride, that I crown you, Elena, Queen of Avalor!"

The golden crown was placed upon the young queen's head, and the ballroom erupted into cheers. Elena lifted her head with a smile, she had worked so hard and been through so much to finally achieve this moment.

Raúl stepped back and wrapped his arm around his wife, who took his hand tightly in hers. The former king and queen looked over at their Elenita, their baby girl. Even though they had mentioned it hundreds of times that day, and they would certainly continue to, they were just so, so proud of their daughter. They had no doubts that she would be one of the greatest queens to ever reign, and that Avalor would continue to thrive under her rule.

The next part of the ceremony would soon commence, where the queen would choose a partner for the first dance of the evening. Elena stepped forward, and approached her three closest friends. She bestowed a new title upon each of them, even naming her younger sister the Royal Inventor. But, she still had not chosen a partner to dance with.

Elena paused for a moment, and pretended to be in deep thought. "Now, I believe I have a decision to make.." she said, before turning towards her parents, and reaching her arm out to her father.

"Papá, no one has helped me learn how to rule more than you. Would you honor me with the first dance?"

Raúl couldn't help but gasp, as he could've sworn Elena would've chosen one of her closest friends to dance with, or even her grandfather. Sure, he knew he had been a mentor to her on her journey to become queen, but this came as a pleasant surprise to him. And of course, he would accept. He placed his hand to his heart, and bowed his head to his daughter.

"Of course, mija." he said. "It would be my greatest honor."

Raúl approached his daughter and took both of her hands in his. He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead, and looked down at her with the proudest smile possible. "I'm so proud of you, Elenita."

"Thank you." Elena replied with a smile. "I couldn't have done any of this without you. Now, about that first dance.."

But, before they could begin the first dance, or even before any music started playing, Francisco spoke up.

"Wait!" he cried. "I didn't stay up all night writing a song for everyone to play for you for nothing!"

Elena tilted her head in confusion. "What do you mean, everyone?" she asked.

Then, Lucía, Isabel, and Luisa, along with Francisco of course, stepped forward, and reached their hands to the side.

"Guitars!"

Their guitars were then handed to them, and the quartet began to play a song written and composed specifically for the occasion.

Elena couldn't help but smile, she couldn't believe her family had gone through all the effort to write a song just for her first dance! But, said first dance hadn't begun just yet, what was she waiting for? She took her father's hands in hers, and the two of them began the first dance of the coronation ball.

By the end of the song, Elena and Raúl weren't alone on the dance floor. Just about every guest was dancing in their own ways alongside them, having a wonderful time. As Elena went over to dance with her friends, Lucía pulled her husband right over for a dance. The two of them laughed and smiled as they danced to the beat, they felt as if the golden days of Avalor were returning again. Brighter days were ahead for the kingdom, and they both knew that their Elenita, their shining light, would be a guiding light for Avalor.

¡Viva la reina! Our Elena! Our love will always shine so bright!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Approximately two years later...

In the kingdom of Avalor, every day is bustling, busy, and bright. Today was no different. But today, excitement was in the air for a very special reason. Villagers were lined up and down the streets of the city, waiting for the moment to arrive. Some had claimed their seats days in advance, either paying extra money for it, or by having a bit of a camp out on the sidewalk. Children waited eagerly with small Avaloran flags in their grasps, some even held up posters or drawings that they had made themselves. Their parents were quite tired, but they knew that being here was a once in a lifetime event. But, it wasn't only the village that was filled with both chaos and excitement.

Inside the palace, the staff was busy preparing the castle for this very special event. Rulers and dignitaries from all over the world would be visiting Avalor, so the venue had to look its very best. Every member of the royal family was busy getting themselves ready for the day, but Queen Elena's room however, was where the most activity was happening.

Lucía held back tears as she placed a veil over her daughter's head, her Elenita was to be married today. The moment she stepped back to see the bride's final look, her breath was taken away. Elena wore a strapless dress, with red and gold embroidery swirling across the bodice. The bottom of the dress was long and flowing, including small details of lace, with a six foot train trailing behind her. Her long, dark brown hair was rolled into a bun, one of her favorite formal styles. Underneath her veil was her usual tiara, the rubies casting a scarlet glow whenever the sunlight hit it. The young queen was the epitome of a beautiful royal bride.

"Oh, mija..you look absolutely beautiful.." she said, having to wipe a tear or two from her eye before they fell down her cheeks.

Elena couldn't help but tear up as well as she watched her mother's reaction. "Mamí, stop it, you're going to make me cry too!" she said.

"Oh, no, no..no crying until at least the vows, you can't ruin that beautiful makeup of yours!" Lucía replied. "You look absolutely perfect, Elenita." she added, taking her daughter's hands in hers.

"Thank you.." Elena responded with a soft smile. "I still can't believe this is actually happening.."

"Neither can I!" Lucía agreed. "It feels like just yesterday you were born, it was one of the happiest days of my life..and now look at that little princess! She's all grown up, she's now the queen, and she'll soon become a wife.."

"It only took me forty six years." Elena joked with a laugh, referring to the four decades they had missed while being trapped in enchanted objects.

Lucía laughed as well, she needed a quick laugh to distract her from how fast her daughter had grown up. "Well, I'm sure those forty six years were well worth the wait, right?" she asked.

Elena smiled and nodded at the thought of her soon to be husband. She was so thrilled to be marrying Gabe, she was the happiest woman in the world with him. Thankfully, her entire family had known him for just as long as she had, so he fit right in with the royal family, and Raúl had no hesitation on giving Gabe his blessing to marry his daughter.

Then, a knock at the door signaled that it was time for members of the wedding party to begin their journey to the cathedral, and that included Lucía. The former queen held her daughter's hands tightly and kissed her on the cheek.

"Good luck, mijita." she said with a smile. "I'll see you at the altar."

A few minutes later, Raúl entered the room to escort his daughter downstairs to the carriage that would bring them through Avalor City, and to the ceremony. He too had to pause for a moment to take in the beautiful sight that stood before him. He simply couldn't believe how his little Elenita had grown so quickly, into a strong, confident, and beautiful woman. Each and every day, he would be reminded of how proud he was of his daughter, and how far she had come.

"Elenita, you look simply breathtaking." he said as he approached his eldest daughter. "I changed my mind, I don't think I'll be able to let you go at the end of that aisle." he joked.

Elena couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that, even though she knew, if it were his choice, he probably wouldn't let her go, not wanting to accept how fast she had grown. "You should've thought of that before you gave Gabe your blessing!" she joked.

"I know, I know," Raúl said. "But I'm just joking, mija, I'm thrilled for you both." he added with a smile.

"Thank you," Elena replied, returning the smile. "I'm thrilled too, a little nervous, of course, but still so, so excited."

"I'm sure you are." Raúl responded with a nod. He then sighed, and looked his daughter over one more time. "I'm so proud of you, Elena." he said. "From the moment you were born, I always have been the proudest man in the world to have been your papí. As each day went by, I thought I couldn't possibly love you any more. But each new day, I was proven wrong. I am so incredibly proud of the young woman, queen, and now, well, almost wife that you've become. I love you so much, Elenita."

Elena wrapped her arms around her father and pulled him in for a hug. She was just so grateful to have such a loving and supportive family as she did, she wouldn't want anyone else by her side to celebrate this special day with her.

Once she finally let go, she turned to pick up her bouquet of poinsettias, perfect for her mid-December wedding. She then took her other hand and held her father's tightly. "Ready to go?" she asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Raúl replied with a proud smile.

Elena and Raúl walked hand in hand to the front door of the palace, where a carriage was waiting for them. The coachman opened the door with a bow, and both he and Raúl helped Elena to get inside. It was quite a task with her long train, but thankfully, everyone fit comfortably.

A moment later, the carriage began moving, and they were off. On the way to the cathedral, they passed the many villagers who had been waiting for hours for the queen's carriage to pass by. Elena waved to the people of Avalor with a smile on her face, and even gave a special wave to small children who were seated atop their parent's shoulders. After a carriage ride full of smiling and waving, they finally arrived at the cathedral.

Isabel smiled from the front doors, and began to walk down the steps to meet her sister. As the maid of honor, it was her job to make sure her dress stayed in perfect condition, which meant she was in charge of the long train on the way inside. The coachman opened the door, and Elena began to step out. With that came the cheers of the villagers who had managed to get a spot close by to the cathedral. Elena looked around and took everything in. The cheering villagers, the bells pealing, the thought that in just a short while, she would be Gabe's wife. Isabel took the back of her sister's train in her hands and lifted it up, and Raúl  began to lead her inside. Before she reached the entrance, she turned around and waved to the cheering villagers with a glowing smile. She took her papí's hand in hers and held it tight, as they began to walk inside.

Inside the cathedral, she was greeted by her wedding party, who were all in position, ready to walk down the aisle the second the music started. They all gave Elena a smile, and Naomi shot her a reassuring 'thumbs up'. Isabel made her final adjustments on Elena's dress, and began to walk to her place. Once everything looked perfect, and everyone was ready to go, Elena took a deep breath, and the music started.

The journey down the aisle felt like miles for Elena, tightly holding onto her father's hand as he led her closer to the altar. She smiled at each person she passed by, the joy and excitement of the occasion had spread to practically every person in attendance. Elena's smile grew even bigger the closer and closer she grew to her future husband, this still felt so surreal. But, this was a reality, and she couldn't be happier.

It was a bittersweet moment for Raúl once they reached the altar, especially as he passed Elena's hand over to Gabe. But, with a nod of approval and a warm smile to his son-in-law, he knew that his Elenita would be in the best hands. He kissed his daughter on the cheek before heading to sit beside his wife, but before he could, Elena pulled him in for a quick hug.

"I love you," she whispered to him.

"I love you too, Elenita."

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Eight years later...

"Abuelo! Abuela!"

Lucía and Raúl turned to the sound of their granddaughter's voices as they ran into the parlor. Six year old Catalina Blanca and Carolina Lucía were dressed identically, quite fitting for them being identical twins. They wore a dress of ruby red satin, with short puffed sleeves and an attached ribbon at the waist, tied into a perfect bow in the back. Along with the dresses, they wore matching paten-leather shoes, and a red bow headband to keep their long, dark brown hair out of their faces. Occasionally, even their abuelos had a tough time telling them apart, but the easiest way to differentiate the two was by their personalities.

"Oh, mijitas, you both look so beautiful!" Lucía said, as Carolina fell right into her arms. "You're going to be the best looking girls at the parranda tonight."

"You think so?" Carolina asked with a smile. "I think I'm the best looking girl every day!"

Lucía laughed softly and held her granddaughter close, Carolina was always the one to take pride in her looks. "I know so." she said.

"Abuelita, which songs are you going to play at the parranda tonight?" Catalina asked, already cuddled up in her grandfather's lap. Her and Raúl were particularly close, as Catalina was the heir to the throne, and would follow in her mother's footsteps to become queen one day.

"Oh, just the usuals," Lucía replied. "Let Love Light the Way, Hearts Full of Cheer.."

"I wanna play!" another little voice cried.

Three year old Luis Raúl poked his head into the room, and had clearly overheard some conversations about playing a song. He was absolutely enthralled with his family's love of music, and couldn't wait until he was old enough to learn from his bisabuelo Francisco, his abuela Lucía, or his mamí.

"Well, I do have my guitar handy, if you'd like play a song for us before we go," Lucía offered with a smile.

Luis nodded excitedly, and sat right beside his abuela as she reached over to pull out her guitar. Lucía placed their guitar in front of the little prince, and he began to 'strum' a song for his family. Of course, he played about as well as any three year old could, but to Lucía and Raúl, it was music to their ears.

Just then, Elena and Gabe made their way into the parlor, with two year old Marcelo Roberto in his papí's arms. Elena almost didn't want to interrupt this sweet moment between her children and their abuelos, but they did have a parranda to get to!

"I didn't know we were having a concert before the parranda!" Elena joked with a soft laugh. "Your guitar playing sounds wonderful, mijo, maybe you can lead the parranda next year!" she said to her son.

"Well, he will be learning from the best, won't he?" Raúl asked, looking over to his wife with a smile.

"Oh please, if that's the case, Elena learned from the best, and turned out to be even better!" Lucía replied.

"No, no, I think he should learn from his abuela, so he can grow to become a better guitar player than the both of us!" Elena suggested.

"Now that's more like it!" Raúl responded. "One day, I'm going to see this little one's name up in lights!" he added, reaching down to ruffle Luis' hair, which made him giggle.

"So, is everyone ready to go?" Elena asked.

With a unanimous yes, the royal family made their way downstairs to head into town to begin their annual Nochebuena tradition.

As the family made their way downstairs, a thought crossed Elena's mind. She had a gift for her family that she wanted to give them tonight, but by the time they came home from the parranda, the kids would be going to bed.

"Oh uh, wait!" she said, to catch everyone's attention.

The rest of the family stopped and turned around, wanting to know what may have been forgotten this time.

"How about we go and put the stockings on the mantel? We haven't yet, and by the time we get home, it'll be time for the kids to go to bed. Let's go!" Elena told them and motioned to her family to follow behind her.

Lucía raised an eyebrow with a smile. Her daughter had something up her sleeve, but she didn't know what. She glanced over to her husband, who shared a similar expression.

They soon entered the family room, which was decked with traditional decorations passed down from generations, and some that had been handmade by Elena and Isabel over the years. All of the children's stockings, which had been customized by Isabel, were laid on the table, and the kids rushed in to take theirs and hang them above the fireplace. Gabe helped to hold each of his children up one by one, so they were able to reach the metal hanger. Elena put up hers and Gabe's, but there was still one left on the table, one that was smaller than the others. Elena stood back and waited for a moment, curious as to who would notice it first.

Surprisingly, it was her youngest son, Marcelo, who toddled over and picked it up. He walked over towards his abuelo, not knowing what to do with it.

Raúl picked it up and looked it over. It was small, and it didn't have a name written across its top like the others. "Elena, what's this?" he asked.

Elena simply shrugged, and waited for her other children to make a guess.

"Do I get another stocking?" Carolina asked, hoping it would mean more candy for her.

"No, it's Marcelo's, they're both small!" Luis said proudly. That made sense, that had to be it!

"Catalina, do you know what it is?" Elena questioned. Catalina already seemed to possess logic beyond her years, so Elena was curious as to what her daughter would come up with.

"It doesn't make sense, we each have a stocking, with our names on it, and Luis, Marcelo has his own, so it can't be his, but I'm not sure who it belongs to!" she said.

Catalina was stuck. No matter how many situations she came up with in her head, none of them seemed right.

"Well, it does belong to someone, someone in our family.." Elena hinted.

Carolina's face suddenly lit up. "Is it abuela or abuelo's? They didn't hang a stocking yet!" she exclaimed, confident that she had solved her mother's riddle.

"Oh, we'll gladly take an extra stocking!" Lucía joked, pretending to reach over for it. "More dulces for us!"

Elena laughed and shook her head. "No one's gotten it yet!" she said. "Here, I'll give you another clue. This member of our family is not here to celebrate Navidad with us this year, but they will be here next year!"

Catalina was sitting in deep thought, putting all of the pieces together in her head. Not here this year, will be next year, a member of the family, no name, and the size of the stocking had to symbolize something. Suddenly, Catalina gasped.

"A new sibling?"

With that, Elena looked at Gabe, whose eyes were wide. All he could say in response was, "oh no..."

Elena laughed and smiled. "Yes!"

Catalina and Carolina held hands and jumped up and down in unison. Luis was also very excited, clapping his hands and smiling wide. Marcelo didn't truly know what was going on, but he knew it was something good. "Yay!" he shouted excitedly, though it sounded more like he was saying 'ray!', which made his reaction even cuter.

Lucía and Raúl were thrilled as well, they absolutely adored being abuelos to their four beautiful grandchildren, they couldn't wait to welcome one more.

"I'm so excited for you, mija!" Lucía said, wrapping her daughter in a hug. "You're certainly going to have your hands full, now aren't you?"

"I sure am!" Elena agreed with a nod. "But I've managed to survive with four, how bad could one more be?"

"Oh, I've heard that before, about three children ago." Lucía joked.

"And you two thought you had your hands full with this one, huh?" Raúl chimed in, as his youngest grandson reached up to him, wanting to be in his abuelo's arms. He picked Marcelo up and tossed him in the air, making the toddler screech in delight.

"Well, though our hands may be full, our hearts are even fuller." Elena said.

In the moments leading up to the parranda, Raúl and Lucía took in this moment surrounded by their ever growing familia. They couldn't help but wonder what would've happened on that fateful day over fifty years ago if they had left to work on the Carnaval floats even a moment sooner than they did. There was a good chance that they would've never lived to witness their daughter take back their kingdom and free Avalor from Shuriki's reign. Raúl may have never been able to place the crown upon his daughter's head to crown her queen of Avalor, or proudly walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. Lucía may have never been able to see how breathtakingly beautiful her Elenita looked moments before she was married, or witness the moment her daughter became a mamí. They thought of their four, soon to be five, beautiful grandchildren, who they never would've been able to meet. Becoming their abuelos was one of their greatest joys in life. While they couldn't help but wonder about if a single thing had gone differently, they wouldn't have wanted their lives to have turned out any other way.

[silverhandy]

I saw the devil (in me) - chapter 5

Takemura doesn't believe in ghosts, not really, but a man driven to his limit might believe in just about anything. Trapped in a losing game and consumed by grief, he returns to Night City looking for closure. but ends up finding something much more.

ao3 I chapter 1 I chapter 2 I chapter 3 I chapter 4

    Just as Viktor had said, his apartment was a short distance away from the clinic, but even that short walk made Takemura feel short of breath, his entire body shivering from the cold despite the thickness of his coat, one that should be more than enough to ward off the harshest of winters. He picked up the pace, following the directions on a small map that appeared on the top right of his interface, guiding him through the streets and later, when he reached the megablock, through the labyrinth of the scraped interior’s corridors. Takemura grimaced at the way the halls were littered, yellowed paint flaking away from the walls only adding to how grimy the place looked. Quietly hoping that Viktor’s apartment will turn out to be more orderly, Takemura pulled the collar of his coat up, but none of the people he passed on his way up gave him any more than a passing glance. At least this time he could blend right in instead of sticking out like a sore thumb.

    Finally, an elevator ride and two flights of stairs later, Takemura was standing in front of the ripperdoc’s apartment door, gingerly putting his hand on a scanner while trying to catch his breath, the short climb showcasing how far from his usual form he still was. After taking it’s sweet time to verify a new ID, the device beeped and the doors slid open, inviting him in. Relieved, he stepped into the dark corridor and reached out a hand in search of a light switch. It turned on with a soft click just as the doors closed behind him.

    The corridor opened into a combined kitchen and living area, with a long counter creating an impromptu barrier between the two. A small desk was tucked in the corner on the far side of the room, barely enough space to house a desktop and a few books stacked on top of each other, the pile dangerously swinging to the left, threatening to collapse at any moment. The rest of the available space was occupied entirely by a big, comfortable looking sofa and a tall shelf housing even more books and boxing trophies, maneki nekos in various colors and shapes perched up in between. As Takemura walked further into the room, he passed the door leading into a bathroom and what used to be another room for the bedroom, but with the wall dividing it and the rest of the apartment gone, different kinds of floor tiling were the only indicator that there used to be anything between them,

    Takemura shook off his coat with a heavy sight and looked around for a place to hang it, eventually deciding on just placing it over the back of a chair, faced with a lack of a more traditional hanger. He walked up to the desk and placed the coat over the metal frame of the chair, careful not to let the heavy material crease in ways it wasn’t meant to.

    That’s when he noticed the photographs. Not digi-frames, but actual, paper photos hung on a wall over the desk, small, carefully cut pieces of tape on each corner. Takemura leaned in a little to take a better look, intrigued by this old-fashioned display of nostalgia. It wasn’t out of character for Viktor, judging by the sheer amount of trophies he kept in his clinic, but still, this specific type of reminiscence wasn’t something that Takemura came upon too often. Moreso, despite his efforts to the contrary, his curiosity about the doctor’s personal life was only growing. It was impolite to sniff around his apartment like this, pry into the other man’s privacy, but the photos were there for him to see, practically luring him in. Moreover, it made him realize how little he knew about Viktor.

    Shortly after their first meeting, the ripperdoc would let him hang around the clinic for a few hours when Takemura stopped by to check on V during the weeks it took her to recover and a few times even offered to watch boxing matches together, throwing in anecdotes from his own sports career in between the speaker’s commentary. Takemura appreciated the gesture, these times they spent hunched over the tiny screen on Viktor’s desk, a moment of downtime Takemura didn’t realize he needed back then, alone in a foreign city, persecuted by his own people. Compared to the chaos that Night City was, the clinic felt stable, safe and consistent. Check on V, chat with Viktor, reluctantly accept his invitation to stay for a few hours. Rinse and repeat. Takemura wouldn’t admit to himself how comforting Viktor’s presence felt, how easy it was to drop his guard around him, kept telling himself that one of these days he’d just see if V was still breathing and go on his way, work on a plan while laying low, blending into the crowd. However, all things come to an end - eventually V pulled through and Takemura felt he had lost an excuse to visit the clinic and so he stopped coming, throwing himself into putting the pieces of his old life back together. There was no time for indulgences anymore. He had to stay vigilant all the way through and not let himself get distracted as he and V miraculously managed to pull off each part of their insane plan.

    They weren’t friends, exactly, their relationship bordering on acquaintances, but before that there was only one thing connecting them - V. With her gone, that thin thread between them was bound to break, wither away into nothing, and yet it didn’t the moment  Viktor was thoughtful enough invite him to V’s memorial.

    Takemura raised a hand to straighten the corner where the tape gave out, a centerpiece photo of Viktor, V, Misty, and a man with a square jaw and smiling eyes, arm thrown around Misty’s shoulders. They were at a diner of some sorts, washed out, red leather of the seats reminding Takemura of the same restaurant he spent hours nursing the same cup of coffee so he wouldn’t be kicked out. Plus, he still looked like a corpo back then. That also could’ve helped his case.

    There were more photos of them, the group hanging out in various settings, at what looked like some sort of a festival, a bar, karaoke even, all these tiny moments forever captured in a single frame. Viktor and the man from the first photo after a sparring, foreheads glistening with sweat, a wide grin on their exhausted faces. There were a few others, ones where Viktor was noticeably younger, wrinkles that now lined his face not yet visible. Some of the photos were creased with white break marks where the pictures have been folded, the corners worn with age.

    Just as Takemura was about to turn away, already feeling like he was leering, he noticed that one of the pictures had fallen to the ground. He leaned down to grab it and put it back where it belonged, filling the empty space it left behind on the wall, but not before he could take a look. The photo was quite old, though not quite as old as some of the others. Viktor was standing with an arm casually thrown over another man’s shoulders, both in Trauma Team uniforms, smiling for the camera.

    Takemura hummed. Of course, that Trauma patch Viktor wore wasn't for show, but at the same time, the ripper didn’t seem too open about his career there. Takemura looked at the man next to Viktor. He was much leaner, Japanese heritage clearly visible in his features. He was smiling, too, practically leaning on the man next to him, daring eyes looking straight into the camera. Takemura let himself wonder, gently fondling the photo between his fingers. A good friend? He turned the photo and read the date. April 23rd, 2068, nearly a decade ago. More than enough time for circumstances to change, new opportunities to arise, friendships to dissolve, Takemura thought as he placed the photo back in its place.

    Enough of that. What he needed right now was a hot shower, the kind that almost burned, forcing the strained muscles to relax. Takemura could feel how clammy his skin was, covered with layers of dried sweat from the days he spent tossing and turning, battling the ever rising fever. Washing it all off was bound to make him feel better, and even if it didn’t, it was certainly a start.

    Takemura made his way to the bathroom, taking note of a fresh towel and a small pile of clothes left there, a small note laid on top of a neat pile. He smiled softly at an I hope it fits this time written in small, jabby cursive, but let it be for now, instead leaning down to turn the faucet of the bathtub on. It took him some time to figure out the proper ratio of cold to hot water, the pipes gurgling warningly at every turn, but eventually, he was satisfied. While the tub filled, he took off his clothes and folded them carefully, placing the pile in the laundry basket and waited until the tub was finally full.

    Careful not to wet the bandage covering the entirety of his left arm, Takemura slipped into the water with a deep sight. The bathtub was quite big, long enough for him to straighten his legs comfortably. Left arm resting on the edge of the tub, he let the rest of his frame submerge into the water completely, already feeling the sheer temperature of it forcefully untwisting the knots that his muscles have turned into. Brushing away the wet strands of his long hair, he grabbed a bar of soap resting on a small stand and started sliding it over his skin, carefully washing the crevices where chrome met flesh. Soon enough the clear water dulled into milky whiteness and Takemura let his head rest on the edge of the tub, closing his eyes and letting himself simply enjoy the warmth surrounding him. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, skipping over his plans for the foreseeable future. After regaining access to his account and the little money he managed to stash there, the first thing he’ll do is pay Viktor off, twofold for all his trouble. Then what? He didn’t want to think about it too much in the moment, but soon enough he’ll have to. Maybe he should just take these few days off, let his body heal before he has to make any big decisions. With his old life ending the way it did, sooner or later he’ll have to start building a new one.

    Because in a way, a part of him died in that abandoned parking lot in North Oaks. By not accepting the fate Saburo-dono decided for him, Takemura denied everything he ever sworn by, this final act of disobedience ending the man he once was. The only man he knew how to be. If he was honest with himself, he was scared that not much else might be left.

    Takemura didn’t even notice when the water turned cold until he felt himself shiver slightly, the pleasant warmth no longer engulfing him. He must’ve lost track of time, he thought as he stood to get out of the tub, careful not to slip. Takemura reached for the towel and started drying himself, surprised at how soft the material was. Eventually, he wrapped it around his hips and leaned over the edge of the sink, feeling as if it was the first time he had really looked at his reflection in months. Silver threads in his hair had crept up beyond his temples, making his skin look even paler, even more so with how deep the dark circles beneath his eyes were. He looked thinner, too, muscles he considered his own personal armor, an essential part of what used to be his job for decades, giving way to the bones straining against his skin, a palpable testament to the toll the last few months have taken on him. Takemura let his fingers ghost over the skin, dancing around the fresh scar right where the left side of his ribcage ended, until he reached up, all the way to his sternum where flesh met metal and further, to his cybernetically modified neck.

    He rubbed his hand over the insolation, red threading still wet from the bath. The touch felt distant, his fingers going over the cables and metal elements, all connected in an intricate pattern keeping the entire construction functional. Takemura felt a sudden need to tug at the cabling, see how much manhandling it’d allow before giving way. It felt suffocating, Arasaka logos all over the metal plates loudly declaring to whom he belongs. With that collar on him, could he really be something else?

    Takemura turned his eyes away from the mirror, as if afraid of what else he might see if he stared at it any longer. He pulled his still wet hair up into a messy knot and got dressed, the entire ordeal taking him an embarrassingly long amount of time. Viktor clearly had an eye, because the clothes, a charcoal pair of dress pants and a simple, navy shirt, fit him almost perfectly. Takemura hummed in appreciation, making a mental note to thank the doctor later and stepped out of the bathroom, but as he was making his way up to the chair where he left his coat, he saw a pair of yellow eyes staring right at him, seemingly just as surprised as he was. Was it the same ghost that kept haunting him for a while now?

    “V…?” Takemura heard his voice in the otherwise completely silent apartment, the merc’s name escaping his lips before he could even think about what he was about to say. The animal in front of him let out a meow before jumping off the counter and making its way to where Takemura was standing, still unable to move. As he felt its small body, very much corporeal, rub against his legs, he finally allowed himself to exhale. It was just a cat. Not a bakeneko, but an actual feline, one that seemed to take a liking to him almost immediately. As he passed the kitchen, only now noticing the two small bowls placed in the corner of the counter. Takemura scoffed at himself, embarrassed that such a thought would even cross his mind as he walked up to the couch, the cat following him closely. When he reached out a hand to grab his coat, the cat jumped onto the couch and meowed once more.

    “What is it?” Takemura asked, dropping his arm back to his side. The small thing meowed again, more demanding this time. He sat down on the couch, sighting as the cat immediately climbed onto his lap and made itself comfortable, purring loudly until it eventually settled down, curled into a ball. Takemura smiled softly, petting its tiny head, eyes already half lidded. He felt so tired, the couch was surprisingly comfortable and the heat radiating off the cat sleeping on his lap was more than enough for Takemura’s eyes to close, just for a second, he told himself, but before he knew it, he drifted away.

[ssilverstreak]

Where Have All The Good Men Gone And Where Are All The Gods - Chapter 1

“I’m sorry about this, Papa,” Marinette said softly, idly fiddling with the hem of her shirt.  “I swear, as soon as we get back on our feet, I’ll-“

“Nonsense, Marinette. You know you and the kids are welcome to stay for as long as you want.  Much better than that hotel, at least.”

“I know, I just… feel like this all could have been avoided.  Like I should have realized earlier that Chris was… was…”

Her Papa gave her a soft smile through his gray-streaked moustache.  “It’s alright, Mari.  The kids are in the cab with your Maman, so you don’t have to pull any punches.”

Marinette shot her Papa a tight smile, then went back to fiddling with the hem of her shirt.  “I just… feel stupid that it took me this long to leave him.  That it took…” she trailed off, lifting one hand to gently brush over the makeup-hidden bruise around her eye.  Even a week later it was only just starting to fade.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself, Marinette.  He’s the one who did that, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Tom said firmly. “Though if he ever comes around the bakery, it will be me and your Maman he’ll have to deal with,” he added, voice deepening into a rumble that was almost a growl.

Marinette smiled, then winced as it pulled at her bruises.  “Still, it’ll only be for a little bit, I swear.”

“Marinette, it’s fine. You know we love having you and the kids over.  Besides…” They stopped at a light, and Tom sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. “Your Maman and I aren’t as young as we used to be.  We just… can’t quite keep up with orders in the bakery anymore.  We were talking about hiring on an apprentice, but they would need training, and then you called us…”

Marinette reached over to gently pat her Papa’s powerful arm.  “Is that why you and Maman asked if I could help out?” At his sheepish nod, she gave him a reassuring smile.  “You know I love helping in the bakery.  I could at least help out while you and Maman look for an apprentice or two.” She sighed and looked down.  “It’s not as if my clothing line is ever going to take off.”

“Oh, Marinette…” Tom had to refocus on the road as the light changed.  “Your designs are gorgeous, you know that.  As to the fashion houses that rejected you, that’s their loss.”

“You’re just required to say that because you’re my Papa.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.” Sensing his daughter’s darkening mood, he changed the subject. “We tidied up your old room for the kids, and Sabine found a bunk bed cheap online for the boys.  Emma can sleep where you used to, up in the loft. It’ll be a little cramped, but not too bad.  And we cleared out a lot of stuff from the office to make into your bedroom, though the closet is still full of a lot of junk I’m afraid.  I think at least half of it is stuff that your Maman inherited from her Great Aunt several years back.”

“You know I would have been fine with the couch.  It definitely beats the hotel room the kids and I were in.”

“We’re your parents, of course we’re not going to make you sleep on the couch, especially with everything else you’re going through.”  Tom slowed the truck down and turned onto a familiar street.  Despite herself, Marinette smiled at the distant sight of the bakery she had grown up in on the corner, a few blocks down.  A few things had changed since she had last been on this side of Paris, but the bakery was a wonderful constant.

A flash of shadow shot across the hood of the truck, and Tom glanced out the driver-side window, then smiled.  “Looks like Rena is out on patrol today.”

“Do you see the heroes often?”

“Now and then, I know they like to vary their routes.  Usually Chat Noir, we don’t see much of the other three.  They probably live in a different part of Paris.”

Marinette nodded.  A glance back at the taxi following them revealed some excited bouncing in the back seat, and she smiled softly.  It looked as if Hugo had spotted the hero on her way past.  If she knew her youngest, he was probably excitedly talking her Maman’s ear off about it. His love for anything superheroes certainly included Paris’s four real-life ones.

A moment later, and both the truck and the taxi had parked in the back alley of the bakery.  The kids burst out of the back door of the cab and quickly stormed up the rear steps to the home above, in a combination of pent-up energy from the drive and a desire to check out how their grandparents had set up their new room.  Marinette spared a small smile, then turned to help her Papa unload the back of the truck.

In truth it wasn’t much. She had had to pack light when leaving, so only essentials and a very few sentimental things had made the cut. Her attempt to go back to get more had swiftly ended when she found out that Chris had already had the locks changed. Hopefully her lawyer would be able to help her get the rest, once she got one, but for the time being…

Marinette shook her head to shoo those thoughts away and grabbed a suitcase and a backpack to carry up the steps.

“You and the kids can spend today getting settled in,” her Maman said as she followed up with a duffle bag and another backpack.  “If you don’t mind, tomorrow early we could use your help to get things going for the morning, but afterwards you can take the kids to get them registered in school.”

“Yeah, that was already my plan,” Marinette said, setting the suitcase in the bare bedroom she would be using before taking the backpack to the steps up to her old room.  From the rapid thumps overhead, the kids were already in there and possibly wreaking havoc.  At least Emma and Louis had the good sense to stay off the balcony for now, and Emma would be able to keep Hugo from going up there.  “Maybe take the kids out somewhere after lunch to let them burn off some energy.”

“After being stuck in that hotel room for the past week, I think they could use it,” Sabine agreed, carrying the small bag with the bathing supplies in it past Marinette to the bathroom.

It only took another trip to carry the rest in.  Marinette spent a couple of hours helping the kids put their clothes and the few things they had had time to grab away.  Her throat grew tight and painful as Louis paused over the mere three books and two dinosaur figurines he had been able to fit in his bag.  Silently she vowed that he would have his entire bookcase back again, and more. She promised the same to herself when Emma put up her two horse figurines next to Hugo’s dolls of the Miraculous Four, which Marinette had hand-sewn for him.  There were no tears, the kids had already gotten past that, but Marinette still felt guilty.

That evening, after ordered pizza had been eaten and the kids put to bed, Marinette sat at the end of the unfamiliar bed, flipping through the one sketchbook that she had brought with her.

So many designs, so much passion poured in, her heart and soul…

And not a one that got so much as a sniff from a fashion house.

Marinette closed her eyes and let out a harsh, shuddering breath as she closed the sketchbook.

Passion didn’t pay the bills.  Right now, her kids needed their mother to support them.

It was time to put away dreams.

She didn’t hate being a baker.  What’s more, she was actually good at it, and she would be able to provide for her kids doing it.

Marinette swallowed hard past the tightness in her throat and hugged the sketchbook to her chest, tucked safely away from her falling tears.  She knew she was making the right choice, and her kids would always come first, but…

She just needed one night to mourn the loss of her lifelong dream.  Just one.

******

It had been quite a few years since Marinette had last got up at the same time as her parents.  Four am and three cups of coffee later to get her moving, she was downstairs kneading dough and mixing batter and trying to stifle yawns into her elbow.  It took a couple hours, but soon old muscle-memory began to return and Marinette got more into the swing of things.  As the familiar smells of baking bread filled the air, Marinette allowed herself to relax into the hectic rhythm of a bakery before sunrise.

It worried her a little, how easily she fell back into helping in the bakery.  Sure, she had done it enough as she grew, but… was being a baker all she was destined for?

Marinette gave her head a hard shake and went back to piping out macaron batter into neat circles on a baking tray.  Well, if that was the case, then she would just have to make the most of it to provide for her kids.  Her parents’ bakery was a successful one, if not rich, and recipes she had long ago memorized were coming back with each glance at the battered old recipe pages in the binder her Papa kept in one of the drawers.

Once the bakery was open for the day and the initial rush had died down, her Maman gently nudged her with her elbow, her hands full of a tray of loaves destined for one of the ovens. “We’re good for now, Marinette. How about you go get the kids up and some breakfast in them?  We have a supply delivery coming at 8:15, so we’ll need your help with that.”

“I thought the deliveries came on Thursdays?”

“We had to change the day about a year ago, the old company we bought everything from changed owners and we noticed a drop in the quality, so we went with a new one.”

Marinette nodded and wondered what else had changed in the over a decade since she had lived at home. She knew about the new equipment, her Papa would gush anytime he got a new ‘toy’ to replace something broken beyond repair, which had happened more than once since she moved out.

Louis was already awake and quietly reading in bed, which was usual, while Emma and Hugo absolutely did not want to wake up, which was also normal.  Half an hour later, the kids were up and fed, and left under Emma’s watch.

“Why do I have to watch them?” Emma huffed, crossing her arms.  “It’s not fair!”

“No, it isn’t fair,” Marinette said softly, leaning down to hug her eldest in sympathy.  “And I’m sorry I have to ask you to.  Things are changing, and change is hard, and things aren’t going to be easy for a little while.  And I need you to step up and be a good big sister for a little while.  I swear that I’ll try and find a proper babysitter for your brothers soon, but for now, if you could just keep them out of trouble?  Grand-pere and Grand-mere and I will all be right downstairs if you need any help or need us to resolve any fights.”

Emma’s frown wavered, and she buried her face against Marinette’s shoulder as she hugged her back tightly.  “’S not fair,” she mumbled again, but with no fight in it this time.

“I know, and I really am sorry.  I’ll try and make it up to you when I can.”

A nod against her shoulder, and Emma stepped back, giving a shaky smile.  “Alright Mom, I can watch them.”

“That’s my girl.”

Marinette was back downstairs just in time to catch the delivery truck arriving, and the next hour was spent with her Papa helping bring in heavy sacks of flour and sugar, and tubs of butter and gallons of milk and all of the other assorted ingredients a well-stocked bakery needed.  Five minutes in of hefting large, heavy bags and her back was yelling at her, and she groaned as she plopped the bag of flour she was carrying on top of the quickly forming stack.  “Ugh, I’m getting old.”

“You and me both, Mari,” Papa replied as he placed a sack of sugar on top of its own pile.

And that was how it went until after lunch.  Carrying heavy bulk ingredients in, helping with the second round of baking to replace what the morning crowd decimated, resolving no less than four arguments that Emma had to bring to her, manning the counter and dealing with customers. The majority were regulars who were just happy to see Marinette again and she was grateful for their greetings and well-wishes, but they tended to hold up the line and there’s always that one customer and by the time her stint at the counter ended she was about to scream.

Finally, finally, after lunch her Maman turned to her.  “We should be good if you need to go and handle the school registration.”

Marinette gave a small sigh of relief and removed her apron before going to wash her hands and arms of the flour on them.  “Hopefully it won’t take me long to get them transferred into their new school.  What time do you need me back by?”

Sabine shook her head and gave her daughter a kind smile.  “We’ll be fine from here, Marinette.  Take the kids to the park afterwards.  I’m sure they could use the chance to play and burn off some of the stress they’re going through.”

Marinette smiled back at her Maman.  “You always have the best ideas.”

“Of course I do, that’s why I’m your mother.  Now shoo,” Sabine said with a laugh, lightly nudging her daughter towards the stairs.

Marinette took a deep breath as she headed up, already planning the rest of the day.  Louis would probably appreciate if they could swing by the local library as well and get him a new card.  She knew her middle child missed his books, and while they couldn’t afford new ones right now, access to the library would help.

***

The library trip helped, but not so much as the trip to the park.  Even Louis, sweet quiet Louis, was feeling cooped up in the converted attic that had once been her bedroom.

Emma didn’t even bother trying to pretend she was too old for the playground.  Normally Marinette had to give her the excuse that she had to keep an eye on Louis and Hugo for her eldest to let loose and go play, but not today.

Ah, to be ten and trying to come off as more grown up than you really are again.

Marinette found a bench off to the side to rest her aching feet and busied herself looking for divorce attorneys in the area on her phone.

Unfortunately, she was so engrossed in making notes on attorneys to look into that she didn’t notice the brief argument and scuffle that Emma got into after another kid tried to steal one of the dinosaur toys that Louis was quietly playing with under the slide, nor did she notice her youngest getting distracted and wandering away.

Emma noticed before her mother did, but even then it took her several minutes to realize that she hadn’t seen Hugo for a while, and several more for her and Louis to check the entire playground.

“… Mom is going to kill me,” she whimpered to Louis as they regrouped in the shadows of the slide platform.

Her younger brother shook his head, long gone non-verbal from the stress of the commotion earlier and his missing brother.  ‘She won’t.  She’ll worry, but not mad,’ he signed.

“Fine, Grand-pere and Grand-mere will kill me instead!”

Louis paused, considered, then signed.  ‘Grand-pere won’t.  Grand-mere maybe.’

“Helpful.”

‘I try.’

Emma took a deep breath, scrubbed at the hot tears stinging at her eyes with her wrist, then straightened up.  “Come on. We have to tell Mom before things get even worse.”

***

Maybe it was the looks on their faces, but when Marinette looked up as two of her children walked towards her, her blood ran cold.  “Where’s Hugo?”

Emma shuffled in place, picking at the hem of her shirt.  “We can’t find him.  Some other kids were picking on Louis and I scared them off but after I couldn’t find Hugo.”

Marinette shoved her phone into her pocket as she shot to her feet.  “Come on, he can’t have gone too far.”

‘Not on his short legs anyway.’

“Not an appropriate joke for the situation, Louis.”

Her son ducked his head and signed a ‘sorry’, then relaxed a little as Marinette shot him a reassuring smile in apology for her firm tone.

“Alright.  Emma, you have your phone?”

“It’s in your purse, Mom.”

Marinette dug it out and handed it to her eldest.  “Alright. I’ll look over this way, you two go that way.  Call me right away if you find him, or something happens, okay?”

Emma and Louis nodded and took off in the direction Marinette pointed.

Marinette took a deep breath, shoved down the fear making her nauseous, and went the other direction.

“Miss, have you seen a little boy?  Sir, have you seen a little boy?”

***

Hugo was lost.

Being five, he didn’t realize it right away.  There had been a bunny, and he really wanted to pet it, but by the time he followed it under a bush, realized it was gone, and squirmed his way out…

Where was the playground again?  All he saw was grass and bushes and trees and sidewalks and… and…

“Mama?  Emma?  Lou?”

Nothing.  No one was around, and certainly not his Mama or his big brother or sister.

Hugo whimpered, clutching his shirt tight for comfort.  Mama had said to find a ‘sponsible grown-up if he ever got lost, like a policeman or teacher or mom with kids, but there weren’t any grown-ups around at all! And it was getting dark out, and cold, and he was alone, and he didn’t know where to go, and he wanted his Mama!

So, Hugo did the only thing his 5-year-old brain could think to do.

He sat down and wailed at the top of his lungs.

Hugo didn’t know how long he was there crying, nor did he hear the soft crunch of boots on the sidewalk over the sound of his own wails.

“Hey there, kitten. What has you so upset?”

Hugo startled, then scrubbed at his eyes with his fists to try and clear out some of the tears, only to find glowing green eyes only a little higher than his own.  His jaw dropped, brain taking a moment to reroute from ‘lost-scared-want Mama’ to ‘that’s Chat Noir’.

The superhero crouching in front of him gave a gentle grin.  “There we go, no more tears.  Whatever’s wrong, I’ll take care of it, okay?”

“… kay.”  Hugo stared for a second longer, then blurted out, “You’re Chat Noir!”

Chat Noir gasped. “What?  Really?  Why did no one tell me!”

Hugo blinked, then burst into giggles at the shocked look the hero was faking, which quickly morphed into a smile.  A soft crunch of boots as the man stood, then he bent over and offered a hand.  “Come on, little kitten.  Are you lost?  What’s your name?”

“Uh-huh.  I’m Hugo, an’ I can’t find my Mama or Em or Lou.” Hugo took the hand, not noticing how the hero carefully kept his claws out of the way as he helped him to his feet.

“Well now, we can’t have that.  Here, I’ll help you look for them.  Do you mind if I give you a ride?  It’ll be quicker.”

Hugo stared up at Chat Noir, almost vibrating with excitement.  “Can I?!”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.  Here.” A few seconds later, Chat Noir had scooped Hugo up, settling him against his hip like his Mama used to do, but didn’t much anymore since he had gotten too big.  The blond superhero had no trouble, though, acting like Hugo weighed nothing at all. He must be even stronger than Grand-pere!  “Where did you last see your Mama?”

“We were at the playground,” Hugo said, neglecting to mention how he had wandered off.

“Alright, kitten, hang on!” Hugo blinked at the toothy grin Chat Noir shot him, then returned it with his own as he gripped tight, finding handholds on Chat Noir’s costume.  The hero tightened his grip around him, and then they were in the air in a powerful leap.

Hugo whooped, which was echoed by a laugh from Chat Noir.  Then they were falling, and Hugo barely had time to feel scared before Chat Noir was leaping off a tree branch and they were back in the air.

Chat Noir’s costume ears twitched, and he grinned down at Hugo.  “I think I hear someone calling your name.”

“Mama!  Em and Lou!”

“Well, probably your Mama at least,” Chat Noir replied as he landed on a lamp post, steadying Hugo. “Come on, let’s get you back safe.”

As much fun as Hugo was having, he suddenly wanted his Mama even more, and he sniffled a bit as he scrubbed at his eyes again and nodded.  “Uh-huh.” Wanting to look brave to the hero, he gave a shaky grin, which was met by a kind smile in return.

“It’s alright kitten, I’ve got you.”

***

“HUGO!  HUGO, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Marinette fought down the urge to panic, repeating over and over in her head that panicking would not help. Why did the ones with such short legs manage to go so far in such a short time?!

“HUGO!”

“No need to be worried, Ma’am!  I’ve got him!”

Marinette startled, spinning in the direction of the voice, then yelping as someone dropped to land in front of her.  Distantly, she recognized Chat Noir, but more importantly…

“Mama!”

“Hugo!”

Hugo squirmed, and Chat Noir quickly set him down.  Marinette crouched just in time to catch Hugo as he lunged at her, gathering him in her arms with a relieved sob, tension and fear releasing in hot, stinging tears.

Marinette buried her face against her youngest’s shoulder, clutching him tight as she whispered, “Don’t wander off like that again!”

“I didn’t mean to! But it’s okay, Chat Noir found me!”

A soft clearing of a throat reminded Marinette that they had an audience.  She gave Hugo one last squeeze before loosening the hug to look up at the hero.  What she didn’t expect was to find Chat Noir crouching on his heels at eye level and offering a surprisingly soft smile.  “Don’t worry about it.  I’m just glad I was able to get him back to you.”

Marinette tried to ignore how his gaze flickered, just for a second, to her makeup-hidden black eye. The light was fading, he probably couldn’t see properly.  Hopefully. She didn’t want to explain that to someone she just met, even if he was one of the Heroes of Paris.  “Still, I can’t thank you enough.”

Somehow, those glowing green eyes softened further.  “Trust me, I get it.  I don’t have kids myself, but I’m a godfather and honorary uncle to three.  I’d probably react the same way if one of them wandered off while I was watching them.” Chat Noir gave a wry grin.  “With a side effect of ‘their moms are going to kill me’.”

Marinette couldn’t help it, she giggled.  Releasing tension and relief combined into her laughing probably a little harder than she would normally, but seeing the mischievous quirk to Chat Noir’s mouth, perhaps getting her to laugh was intentional.

“Mama?  Where’s Em and Lou?”

Marinette straightened up, pulling back to look down at Hugo.  “They went the other direction to help look for you.  They actually should be getting back-“

“Mama!  You found Hugo!”

“And there they are.” Marinette stood, though she kept hold of Hugo’s hand.  She was fairly sure he wouldn’t wander off again, but she needed the grounding reassurance of knowing he was back with her and safe.

Emma and Louis slowed their run as they got close, eyes going wide and jaws dropping as they realized who was standing with their mother and little brother, having missed him in the relief of seeing that Hugo was safe.

Speaking of, Hugo puffed his chest out proudly.  “Chat Noir found me!  He got me back to Mama!  We jumped super high and it was like flying and it was so cool!”

“Really?!” Emma and Louis said in unison, if possible looking at Chat Noir even more starry-eyed than before.

“Yeah!  It was kinda scary but super fun!  We could have jumped over the moon!”

“Maybe not quite that high,” Chat Noir chuckled, gently ruffling Hugo’s hair, though by this point it was so messy that he didn’t do any damage.

Marinette let out a breath, the last of the fear and tension draining away.  “Thank you again, Chat Noir.  It’s getting late, so I need to get this hoard home and fed.”

Right on cue, Hugo whined “Mama!  I’m hungry!” Emma and Louis were less vocal, but their own expressions echoed what their brother had said aloud.

What none of them were expecting was the loud growl of a stomach.  It took a few seconds for Marinette to work out the source, helped by the embarrassed flush Chat Noir was sporting.

It took her only a few seconds longer, and sharing another glance with her children, to come to a decision.  “If you want, you could join us for dinner, as thanks for finding Hugo.  We’re staying with my parents right now, and they own a bakery, so there’s always extra for the dinner table at the end of the day.”

Chat Noir paused, and there it was again, that brief flick of his gaze to her makeup-masked black eye, surely he couldn’t see it with the light growing so dim, the sun already down.  Right?

“You know what, I’d love to.”

[spiltscribbles]

My Saving Grace

Notes: This was written for my beautiful, sweetheart @tedddylupin as part of our server’s Spring Exchange <3 I’m sorry that this isn’t a surprise anymore but I love you and I’m sorry that this is late. I hope that you enjoy it! Thank you to the realist babe @omgcmere for dealing with my shit while writing this. You can join our server here » https://discord.gg/g2ZgKkJ

.-

A Reblog is worth a thousand stars.

.-

It’s a thick, sprinkling spring morning, and Henry’s standing outside the Matin Bleu like he’s done every Easter his family spent in the states. It’s a small, conspicuous bistro fashioned in the French model that lies in the northern Hamptons. Henry knows it’s every nook and crevice, knows the pastel tablecloths and porcelain china, and he noticed when they adopted new silverware two years earlier. He knows this place like the back of his hand, holds it synonymous to his grandmother’s ever-appraising gaze and Philip’s stiff upper lip and the way it sometimes felt like he was being suffocated by the formality of it all— by the unbridled expectations held for a Mountchristen heir. And God, this is pathetic, the fact that Henry can’t even step into a brunch with his family without the ominous sensation that he’s about to step into enemy territory. Like they were one of the new Kingpins ravaging the neighborhood streets, and he needed an actual superhero to come and save him.

“Fucking ridiculous,” he mutters to himself, pulling out his phone to check the time and see if Alex’s near by, admittedly not sure if he could face all their judgmental glances without some sort of backing.

“Your hair’s starting to get mussed.”

Henry starts, turns around to find Beatrice walking closer to him. She’s got on  a  sundress that makes it so flecks of green dance in her almond eyes and a truly massive hat that would make the British royals seethe  with envy. And Henry’s never been so thankful for the sight of her a day in his life.

“You’re late,” he chides softly, leans down for her to hug him   hello and slips his phone back in his trouser’s pocket, inwardly praying that Alex’s at the very least on his way.

“’S the pregnancy, it’s got me in shambles trying to figure out the time,” Beatrice sniffs, snaking her arm through his own as they stroll into the restaurant. Henry doesn’t care if he admits it, everything feels easier with his sister besides him.

“Don’t tell me that works on Louis, the poor sod.” Henry snorts, incredulous, as he pulls out her chair for her to sit in and greets his Grams and mother with perfunctory pecks on the cheek.

“Louis’s great with all of it,” Beatrice beams, hands moving to rest on her still barely-visible belly. “Even with the mommy brain.”

“You make sure he keeps that attitude up once diapers come around,” a cousin crows from further down the table.

“He’s sworn it,” Beatrice assures glowingly.

“Well Bea, where is Louis? Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got knocked up by an irreverent tosser?” Philip asks, passing the butter to Martha, who’s rolling her eyes at her husband’s crassness. Henry hopes she knows that she’s not alone on the annoyed by Philip boat.

“Nice to see you too Pip, it’s been too long.” Beatrice glares with a truly mutinous twisting of her lips.

“Well, answer, where is your husband frolicking around if not here with his family?” their grandmother— a woman who the queen of England had to work her schedule around to meet—  presses, voice drenched with disapproval.

Henry takes Bea’s smaller hand into his own and squeezes for support.

“He had to go to the office in the city to oversee a vulnerable account, Grams,” Beatrice answers with a level tone, squeezing back so hard that Henry swears she’s trying to snap his fingers right in half. “He’ll be here before the second course.” 

“Well, if the firm needed him that’s perfectly reasonable,” she clears her throat right then, eyes cutting over to Henry, and he knows exactly what’s coming next. The same old diatribe about how he’s such a failure, such a disgrace to the Mountchristen name. A family that’s been the crown jewels of each and every antiquity in every Major city in the western hemisphere for the past half century. How Philip’s the only one who’s adopted a good head on him, and how Henry should’ve gone into politics or the Marines or become some sort of hot shot investment banker who makes millions on the hour. Not just some frivolous writer, a damn journalist living in Soho like a bohemian tosser. (Her words precisely.)

Henry’s heard all of it before, breathes in to prepare for the worst of the tongue lashing. He’s only mildly surprised when it’s his mother who speaks up in her timid, unaffected tone to stop it before it begins.

“Let us just pick out our soups, shall we?”

“Ahem, yes. I’m famished,” Henry tacks on, gazing at her thankfully, watching as she runs a hand through her blonde hair— the same shade of his own.

“As long as there’s no onions, the little tyke won’t take even the smell,” Beatrice adds on with a small smile, and the moment passes. His Grams goes back to fuming about all she’s heard on the news, Philip’s gone back to tossing barbs with Beatrice, and Henry’s back to wishing he were anywhere but here before discretely checking his phone for the sixth time in as many minutes.

His stomach sinks at the realization that Alex still hasn’t called or even sent a text. 

“And what of you little brother?” Philip asks, tone vacant of any real interest. “You’ve been seeing a new bloke you wanted to introduce us to, haven’t you? Don’t tell me he’s already old news.”

Henry feels the furious flush spilling across his cheeks at the not so subtle implication that for some reason Henry goes through partners any quicker than he or Beatrice had at his age, and he really wishes he hadn’t gone through the standard Mountchristen indoctrination of not using a voice beyond a soft murmur in public because he’d really like to yell at Philip right about now. Yell at  him for being a beyond annoying, homophobic wanker right in front of everyone. Thankfully, the pure anger is belied by the sudden, and crippling familiarity of Alex’s voice cutting through all the rest. And it’s like Henry’s been filled with helium once he turns slightly and finally catches sight of Alex, his Alex. Alex in that dark suit that makes him look like a Brooks Brothers advert, and Alex who’s always the most incandescent  point in Henry’s world without even his realizing it. Even at the start of all of it— at the start of them, when they had first met and Alex was a god forsaken prat about everything— contrary to his core— And sure, Henry admits he was being intentionally pretentious and perhaps a wee bit waspish whenever Alex got on a soapbox and began  one of his diatribes about how heroes are the most incredible, selfless sort of folks in a community. And sure, wherever one of them pushed the other had to dig his heals in the sand and stay firm just to make a point, just to make the other work that much harder and notice him that more intensely. But the last year has incorporated  something totally knew— something uncharted and scary and dangerous— like at any moment they could step on a landmine— but its also been the most miraculous year of Henry’s life.

It’s been a year of sloppy snogs exchanged at midnight underneath a thousand polluted stars and amidst a symphony of honking city horns. A year of tangled limbs and sweaty sheets and laughter pouring out soft lips. A year of spilled hair on shared pillows and shirts tumbling together so many times that they just begin smelling like a cocktail of the both of them, together. And if he’s being honest, Henry doesn’t exactly know what this is, what it means. All he knows for sure is that he could spend the rest of his days merely parsing out all the varying shades of brown that dance in Alex’s molten eyes and he’d be content. And Henry frankly doesn’t care how utterly love sick that sounds.

“Alexander,” Beatrice— Henry’s saving grace— is the one to crow in greeting, excepting his hug before he takes the spare seat besides Henry.

“I’m so sorry I'm late,” he says with slightly labored breaths, as if he had run the entire way here. “The traffic coming up was all levels of awful.” In a tender sort of motion he quickly brings up Henry’s hand— the one he had interlocked with his own once being escorted to their table, and kisses it hurriedly.

Henry is blushing for an entirely different reason now.

“Never mind that Alexander,” Catherine waves off his excuse with a flick of the hand, a thin smile on her lips. Henry knows that Alex reminds her of Arthur, and Henry is both delighted by the notion and so sad that the only times he ever sees his mother with even a slight flicker of life to her vacant eyes is when she’s thinking of her husband who had died nearly a decade ago now. But that’s hypocritical, and Henry knows it. After all, it’s not like he’s ever going to be over that particular wound anytime soon.

“You missed the appetizer,” Philip tells him briskly.

“Perfect, I’m trying to keep this trim figure,” Alex winks and the rest of the table fall into quiet chuckles.

Henry beams, his  chest threatening to burst at the seams. THat’s his boyfriend. An insanely charming, insanely beautiful, supernova. 

Henry clamps his hand on Alex’s thigh out of view from everyone  else and they share a smile before being pulled back into conversation with Beatrice about her Mommy and Me class, and it’s all splendid.

.-

“They liked me,” Alex preens a few hours later, once everyone disperses and goes back home. The sun’s beginning to dip into the horizon and clouds are beginning to gather overhead as they walk the New York City streets, headed to Henry’s loft with interlocked hands.

“They would’ve liked you more if you weren’t so late,” Henry needles just to make a point, not actually mad. It’s kind of a set in stone characteristic of his. Alex is always, without falter, late to just about any function. It use to crease Henry— back before when they were just bickering acquaintances with a rather brutal amount of unresolved sexual tension, but now it’s kinda endearing.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, face going a bit pale. “Luna really needed Nora and I to stay longer at the lab. That sample he collected at the bank robbery last week after The Ranker’s attack  started multiplying, like it’s a living blog thing.”

“So you’re growing some homemade mutants,” Henry snorts, knocking their shoulders together. 

“I’d really like to say that smug isn’t a hot color on you, but your ass seems to make everything work,” Alex sighs, long suffering, as he gives Henry an appreciative once over— special focus paid to his aforementioned ass.

“And I’d like to say that my boyfriend isn’t a pervert, but alas,” Henry laughs ebulliently  when Alex hip checks him, almost not noticing the buzz to his phone. It’s a message from Pez, a tip on none other than  The Ranker’s whereabouts.

“What’s up Henryson, your face is getting all weird. And not even the hot way like it does when I wear my old lacrosse uniform for sexy times.”

“I’ve got to go,” Henry says, by rote as he tries to flag down a taxi with a emphatic hand.

“I knew it, you have a secret boyfriend,” Alex snorts.

“You say that as if I could handle even one of you,” Henry counters, relieved once a cab slows down, catching sight of him.

“So the sudden franticness?”

“The Ranker, he’s over at time square making some sorta announcement.” Henry explains, swoops forwards to kiss him goodbye before swinging open the cab’s door and slamming it shut. “June would have a conniption if I didn’t get some live video!”

Alex’s expression completely drops now, sticking his head through the window and preventing the driver from speeding away as Henry would prefer. 

“Lucky for you that the dude you’re nailing is the editors brother, she’ll give you a break.”

Henry tries his hardest not to roll his eyes at him, wondering if it’ll always be a point of contention that Henry’s work practically demands that he’s at the epicenter of these showdowns between these superheroes and their villainous counterparts.

“Love, you know as well as I that  if the Harold gets a story published before us one more time your sister will have an early death from a certified aneurism.”

“You folks across the pond really like your hyperboles.”

“And you Americans really like making your boyfriends late for potentially groundbreaking news.”

Alex furrows his brows, that familiar dent of worry between them when he frowns at henry. “Promise to be safe.”

“Always,” Henry kisses the tip of his nose before unceremonially pushing him out and directing the driver to take him as close to the action as he possibly can.

~*~

Alex can’t help but watch Henry becoming a dot into the distance, silently willing him not to be dumb and not getting himself into danger. Though he’s pulled out of it by Nora and June’s frantic texting in their group chat, so with a heavy, put upon  exhale he dashes behind the dumpsters across the way and changes into the costume he always keeps in his messenger bag. Taking him five seconds to a normal person’s ten minutes.

“Have you not been paying attention, like at all!” Nora’s voice is the first to crackle through the line of his built in bluetooth, sounding beyond bothered.

“I was with Henry,” Alex says in defense, the roads become nothing more than a dust in his wake as he runs faster than what could have ever been feasible before. “June, don’t ya have any control on which reporter takes which case? Like why can’t he ever just like write something on an old lady’s kitten being rescued by a fireman.”

“Sorry baby brother, but he wouldn’t have it even if I tried, besides he and Pez are like the best duo that the Sentinel’s seen in years.” June says apologetically, and Alex can only roll his eyes. He knows that Henry is too fucking hard headed for his own good, but still, he’d rather if his completely human, and utterly breakable boyfriend weren’t trying to get himself killed every time one of these hotshot villains want to have a temper tantrum.

“Whatever, just give me the coordinates, yeah?” 

.-

It’s only been like five minutes since The Ranker began his weird tirade, but everything’s already  been swallowed into complete chaos, with people screaming, and at least six car accidents, and all topped off by the ranker’s nauseating cackles pounding through the air.

Alex gives a quick once over, sees that Henry still hasn’t made it here yet, and thanks the lord for small blessings. He’s determined to finish this quickly and with no fanfare.

“The City is infested New Yorkers! And I’m here to clean it from the vermin!” The Ranker is in the midst of shouting, but Alex can’t tell from where.

“Three buildings down from Radio City,” Nora tells him. Alex is always sorta spooked on how she could practically read his mind like that, but doesn’t have time to think on it, to busy scaling the building in question and coming face to face with The Ranker— well as much as they could be considering the whole mask ordeal.

“Ranker!” He exclaims once the man in question finally turns around, ugly smirk on his lips.

“Aw, and the greatest vermin of them all,” he says through a small mike that distorts his voice into something low and scratchy, like gravel that Alex would really like to step all over. 

“Shucks, don’t go and start complimenting me,” Alex harrumphs, swinging an uppercut to his lower jaw and dodging the kick he aims in turn. “Would you just leave us alone already!”

“Just as soon as you flee this city! And stop getting in everyone’s way!”

“Way to do what exactly?” Alex ducks when he tries to punch the side of his head, parrying with a swift kick to his ankles, but the bastard is too quick.

“This city doesn’t need you Torpedo! It doesn’t want you!” He bellows.

“Is that why I didn’t get the customary Easter fruit basket?” Alex asks, faux owlish, as he rams into him. The Ranker gathers his footing and jumps off the building. It’s of course too good to be true, and he only has to press a button midway down to land smoothly with boots that have some sort of rocket contraption built into them.

“Oh damn you.”

“Yo Alejandro!  This isn’t being filmed for VH1 so can you just snip out those one liners and just tie him up for the cops or something!” Nora says, exasperation tinged with actual worry.

“I’m trying, but he’s like in new form since last time he showed his face!” Alex defends, jumping from ledge to ledge before landing only feet behind him. At least seven cop cars have already piled up around them, and a ridiculous amount of people staying to watch. God damn it, have they ever heard of self preservation! Alex would like to call them all idiots, but then spots a glint of gold besides an actually decent cop, Amy— and he relents that they might not be actual idiots. To be frank,  Henry’s the most brilliant person he’s ever known, Even if he acts like a doofus.

“Back away!” Alex yells to the throng of onlookers and reporters and officers. “He’s armed!”

“Oy, why we aught to trust you speedster!” A nondescript man shouts from the crowd.

“Maybe because I’m the only person who’s preventing him from squishing you guys like bugs!” Alex replies, screaming now. He knows he shouldn’t let petulant folks like that get in his head, but god damn it, even while rescuing them, they can be so damn ungrateful.

“Alex from behind you!” Nora yells through the speaker, and Alex manages to duck in time when the Ranker throws a particularly hefty slab of stone his way.

“Fucking hell.”

“Are we just going to be running in circles? Or are you going to just give up before I actually have to hurt you,” Alex yells, feet planted on the ground and glaring daggers his way. 

“It’s you who will be hurt you little pest,” The Ranker cackles, brings up his fist and begins pressing a button on his black glove that shoots out a blast of heat, leaving nothing but ruin init’s wake as he begins shooting indiscriminately. First at Alex, (which he obviously dodges with ease),  and then at the building behind him, and two more at the crowds who are competent enough to divide as soon as they see it pointed towards them. 

All of them besides one person. The aforementioned glint of golden that’s too busy scribbling notes into his pad to look up, and Alex’s heart literally lodges into his throat. Like an echo reverberating out a cave he can hear Pez from over head— where he usually stands atop a balcony to get the best photos— screaming Henry’s name, and he can hear Nora and June’s dissonant shouts for him to move before The Ranker strikes again, but Alex doesn’t understand what’s going on, it’s all thanks to instinct when he catapults himself forwards to push Henry out of the line of fire— both of them dodging the blaze ever so narrowly— Alex’s costume searing with smoke— and landing in a pile of rocks from a construction scene happening across the street. 

“Ouch,” Henry mutters, rubbing the side of his head before crouching upwards.

“Are you a fucking idiot!” Alex screams, pops up defensively to guard against anything else that the Ranker decides to aim his way. Alex isn’t sure whether he’s thankful or terrified that he’s no where in sight. 

“Keep me posted if you guys track him anywhere else,” he mutters to June and Nora, breaths finally beginning to even out, despite the fact that he keeps on picturing himself moving only a moment too late and  Henry suddenly gone— like a flash.

“You got it little brother.”

“Stand ready,” Nora warns.

“I suppose I should thank you for the rescue, though I must admit that the unnecessary insult does knock you down a few points.”

Alex can’t help the small, endeared grin that cracks his face  in half, but he tries his damndest to hide it from Henry’s ever calculating gaze— His mind is made for journalism, always working to figure out a situation— measuring the facts, and interconnecting the clues for one lasting crescendo of brilliance that figures out what hasn’t been spoken out loud. Alex is mildly terrified that he’d look into  his ocean eyes and be caught out.

“What? You get rescued a lot? Have a running tally going on which Superhero deserves the crown of America’s darling?”

Alex finally turns around to him, confident in his mask having stayed in place and tempering his expression enough so that it gives off a blasé indifference— and for the record, it’s fucking difficult when it’s trained on the dude he’s in love with.

“You folks must actually  be some sort of extra terrestrial human/alien hybrid if you truly don’t know that Judie Garland could never be knocked off her perch as America’s sweetheart,” Henry sniffs loftily, goes back to his notepad, because of course he’d rather make sure his notes were all still pristine over checking if he has something as serious as a damn concussion.

“Hah, that accent isn’t exactly yankee doodle sweetheart,” Alex says with a good amount of derision, head cocked. But oh, Jesus fuck. His stomach drops out the moment Henry’s eyes go sharp and his features turn pensive when he turns to look straight at him. Alex is such a fucking idiot, using one of his primary pet names for Henry so carelessly, so thoughtlessly. 

Alex is sure that he just let a major hint of his identity drop in front of him, but with some sort of pure luck that strikes, Pez sprints over to them, breaths heaving. 

“For God’s sake Haz I saw you almost get fucking obliterated! Do you know what that wold’ve done to my psyche!” 

Henry’s face goes tight with contrition, all his attention focussed on his best friend now, and Alex sees a blessed opportunity to run off scot free. But of course things are never that easy, and right when he pivots around to race back to June’s apartment where the girl’s are surely waiting, he hear’s Henry’s voice calling for him.

“Torpedo! A moment!” He pulls away from where he was hugging Pez, and steps closer to him, face sporting that inscrutable expression it does whenever he’s particularly serious about something— the one that never fails to get Alex all hot and bothered. 

And just shit.

“Ahem, my colleague and I are reporters for the New York Sentinel. I wanted to give you the opportunity to speak on what had just played out.”

Alex frowns, confused. No reporters make it actual practice to get any sort of information from the Superheroes, it makes much more money for them just to editorialize and demagog about them to sell issues. Obviously Alex knows that the Sentinel is different, it’s headed by his own sister for fuck’s sake, and he knows that Henry is good and true. But still, it’s a surprising request.

“You could obviously stay silent and have the people equate you to that monster,” Henry shrugs— as if it couldn’t make a difference in his world. And God is he sexy all in his element like this.

“No, ah. I guess I just want  civilians to stay vigilant, the Ranker seems to be only growing in strength and resilience. I have no clue what he’s going to do next.” Alex tries to speak in his most presidential like tone, something he’s been practicing since he were a kid considering the whole his Ma’s the mayor of one of the largest cities on the planet thing.

“And I could quote you on that?” Henry asks, hand moving frantically across the page.

“Yeah of course.”

“Spoken like a true hero,” Pez tells him magnanimously and this is starting to feel real slimy— like he’s lying to them outright.

“I should go, begin mapping out what’s going on.”

“Of course,” Henry nods, straightens to his full six foot one stature. “But if you ever need help trying to predict his next move, we’re on call.” He hands Alex his business card and it takes everything Alex has within him not to burst out in laughter— as if he hasn’t had the digits memorized for years at this point.

“Will do,” he winks, but the Superman aesthetic probably crumbles when Alex accidentally trips over one of the rocks that was being thrown around before he has to gather himself and run off into the distance.

.-

In modest terms, the story published on the latest stand off between Torpedo and the Ranker completely blows up. It’s the most viral story that the Sentinel— or any New York based paper— has seen in nearly half a year. Pez chucks it up to the quote they got from the Torpedo himself, but Nora argues it’s because they plastered Henry’s face right on the byline and Alex thinks they’re both right. 

In truth, Henry doesn’t really bother figuring out why this particular story spreads like wildfire, is only proud of it because of how the article makes it so June’s face goes relieved for the first time in too long— Admittedly, Henry is also elated the morning it was released when he had gotten an actual phone call from his Grams, congratulating him for finally proving his Mountchristen lineage, soon followed up by a email from Philip that actually says he had done well. And Henry knows that neither of them should have an effect on him— especially such an impactful one— but Henry would be a filthy liar if he said he didn’t feel like he was riding on cloud nine that entire week.

But It’s begun to die down now, and Henry’s still  trying to figure out what exactly are the Ranker’s intentions for New York, and the world at large. All his subsequent attacks have been  petty crimes in comparison to trying to start an uprising. They were attempts on stealing pieces from the Met or trying to break free some inmates in one of the more unsavory prison complexes. Each one was executed by one of his henchmen, and easily thwarted by the Torpedo. It just doesn’t make sense.

Speaking of which, the aforementioned hero hasn’t once called Henry or left him any other sort of message about the offered help,  obviously wanting to go at this solo. And that’s perfectly fine, but just annoying. Henry knows it in his bones that if they just exchange information they could plot out exactly what would happen next. But whatever, Henry has more pressing issues to worry about. Namely, his and Alex first anniversary. 

Henry goes back to rearranging the breakfast tray— all of Alexander’s favorites delivered from their usual cafe a few blocks down. The both of them knowing full and well that Henry can’t cook for shit. He did however spend half the night baking and icing a small cake that’s got piped on the date of their first night out as an official couple, and Henry picked out the red and white roses— sown together by the stem and placed in a thin vase right in the center— knowing that it symbolized unity, and mutual love. If nothing else, Henry knows that he and Alex are partners through everything, honest to the core to one another and always there for the other when he needs it most.

The most important part of Henry’s world will always be Alexander, and that’s not in doubt.

Gingerly, Henry picks up the surprise, sock clad feet toeing softly into Alex’s bedroom where he’s still knocked out. He had come home from Luna’s lab so fucking late. Henry hates how hard he works for him, tells Alex as much with low complaints mouthed against his skin and caressing hands pulling him closer, and closer still every time he comes home looking a little worse for wear.

And yeah, Henry knows that they’re trying to figure out how these heroes develop their powers, knows that they hope to create immunities against it to prevent from any possible, maniacal villains. But Henry would rather it that his boyfriend didn’t look so god damn worn out near constantly. 

In a voice still quiet and raspy enough for morning, Henry tells him, “Happy one year love.” Peppering small kisses against the width of Alex’s shoulders, and slowly tracks down the dips of his spine— brushing reverently against the small consolations of freckles that dance on Alex’s hip.

Slow and groggy, Alex flips around so that they’re face to face, a hand locked in Henry’s hair and their lips barely meeting for a kiss. 

“You taste like coffee,” Alex smiles, kissing Henry that much deeper. 

“Aw, the sweet nothings you wax about me,” Henry sighs, faux aggrieved as he grabs the latte in question, making Alex sit up, the blanket pooling around their hips and their ankles intwining.

“Man if I could start everyday with a shirtless you and cup of Starbucks I swear to God I would be set  for the rest of  my life.”

“Should I be concerned that I don’t know which of those you would rather have?” Henry goads, nosing against the crook of his neck.

“Don’t be dumb,” Alex snorts, setting down the drink and curving against Henry with a tender sort of care. Henry realizes the reason for the caution when he looks down and sees how his previously concealed side is covered in bruises, ugly splatters of blue and purple that’ll fade to green and yellows in only a few short days.

“Holy shit,” Henry scrambles off the bed, nearly toppling over the breakfast he had set up. But he doesn’t care— He can’t care, not with Alex just lying there, hurt and broken and Henry can’t do a thing about it.

“What the fuck happened!”

Alex winces, like he was somehow fucking embarrassed. And no, just no. Alex can not be embarrassed over this! Okay sure, there are some funny anecdotes of him being clumsy at the lab, or Nora accidentally tackling him a little too hard against the wall. Little spoofs that left small injuries and maybe a scratch or two, but not this. Never to this level. And Henry has no idea how to comprehend it. It’s like he’s drowning, lost at sea trying to figure out how to help him.

“’S nothing,” Alex tries for broke with a small shrug of the shoulder, but even that makes it so he grouses with pain.

“Alexander what happened!” Henry repeats in a voice like a whip, the same one he’s used with heads of states about wars that they’re still involved in, or police chiefs about unjustifiable shootings executed by their officers onto innocent youths. 

“It was a couple of punks when I was walking home last night,” Alex finally admits, worrying on his inner cheek. 

“What did they want!” Henry bellows. “Did you make a police report! Did you get a decent look of them? Or—“

“Baby, it’s fine,” Alex soothes, climbing out the bed so that he could stand in front of Henry, rubbing comforting hands up and down his arms. “It was not a big deal, they got my wallet, but we both know I’m broke as hell.”

“Why are you being so glib about this!” Henry says in a voice that shakes. “Is this why you came home so late last night. Did they threaten you? Was Nora there? Is she alright?”

“Everyone’s fine sweetheart, Nora wasn’t there and they didn’t threaten me. Just wanted some cash.” Alex moves to kiss across Henry’s jawline, each  corner of his mouth too, while he slings his arms around Henry’s narrow waste. 

“’S because of this bullshit zero sum game the Ranker has got going on with that Torpedo prat,” Henry hisses, feeling like a powder keg ready to blow. Alex stiffens slightly beneath him and he knows he’s thinking the same thing. 

“It was just some stupid pricks Henry,” Alex says quietly, there foreheads pressed against each other. “Now please, don’t let this ruin our day. I know your love sick, pisces ass has got a whole romantic production planned out, and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

Breathing in deep, Henry nods, just slightly, agrees to go on with their anniversary plans.

“You really must think highly of yourself if you think I’ve spent that much effort on you,” he jokes, and Alex throws back his head in lovely peals of laughter and it’s all alright. For now. It’s all alright for now. 

Henry lets Alex drag him back in bed, lets him map out Henry’s body with his lips and hands and arches up towards him wantonly when Alex laps his tongue around his dick— a promise of so much more. 

Henry lets Alex wash over him, lets him think that this conversation has ended, lets him not worry about how Henry’ll take this in his own hands.

~*~

“Numbers on Henry suspecting that you spend your night masquerading as New York’s Walmart version of Batman?” Nora asks a few  days after Alex and Henrys anniversary while they write down the new growths showing on the mole collected from one of the Ranker’s more recent city attacks— an ugly black blob that only seems to be growing larger day by day.

“Honestly? I dunno. He seemed to buy the excuse that it was a mugging.” 

“But?” June presses, staying a good distance away from them with her lunch, all of them agreeing that they needed to regroup as soon as possible after the latest  incident of the Ranker attacking another jewelry shop on fifth avenue only last night.

“But, I just feel guilty about it. About the lying I mean. Henry and I don’t lie to each other, we’re like the exact opposite! We’re painfully honest.”

“Honest about everything besides what matters?” Nora sniffs, poking the blob with a stick he’s almost positive is meant to be used for mixing people’s coffee and creams. 

Alex tosses her the bird for that one, more than a bit cross over the whole ordeal.

“Alex, you’re only trying to protect him,” she says, dark eyes earnest with understanding. “I know that this is a sucky situation but would you rather risking one of these crazy villains piecing together that he’s like the one person you’d give up the world to save.”

Alex’s cheeks flush, lips pursed as he glances over to June who’s being uncharacteristically quiet.

“You think otherwise?” He asks, waiting for her to meet his gaze from where it’s concentrated on fiddling with her salad instead.

“Am I allowed to have an other opinion?” She asks, lips pinched.

“Course you are Bug, you know that.”

“Well then I think you should just tell him.” She charges, sudden passion vibrating in her tone.

“Did not see that one coming,” Nora intones as an aside.

“Alex, you saw how Mom trying to protect Dad blew up in their faces. She didn’t talk about any sorta legislation or anything she was trying to get past so that he would never be questioned about staying impartial as a congressman, and it only paved the way to their divorce.”

Alex feels like a rush of vertigo has just hit him, like he’s about to be sick.

“This’s different,” he contends, admittedly very weakly— But it is! This is Henry’s actual life at hand! Not the reputation he might garner from a bunch of smug politicians.

June frowns fully now, looking like she’s trying to throw Alex a lifesaver that just keeps slipping out his hands.

“No Alex, no it’s really not.”

The air around them goes taught, and Alex feels very queasy with the revelation that her words ring true.

“Can we put a pin on this you guys,” Nora asks, frantic. “Our lovely friends just blew up a couple of empty vehicles down in Brooklyn and it’s kind of a shitty situation.”

“Right,” Alex dashes to change into his distinctive red suit, tells the girls to stay on call for him.

“Stay safe,” June pleas, like she always does.

“Of course,” Alex promises, like he always does.

And the remaining discomfort from their argument dissipates because of course it does.

~*~

Henry admits that this is perhaps the dumbest, most idiotic, incredibly thoughtless plan that he has ever come up with, and that’s precisely why he hasn’t told anyone of his intentions. Not June, certainly not Pez, and God forbid Alex ever finds out. But the thing is that if this works, Henry could help put an end to this chaos for good, and maybe that’s worth the risk?

 Well at the very least, Henry hopes it’s worth  it as he swallows down hard and steps on a ledge, a perfect position to witness the current battle playing out in the Williamsburg streets. The Ranker— even more humanoid looking from the last time Henry’s seen him— a sort of slimy sheen shining against his black suit while  he’s practically roaring as he thrashes around, trying to hit a beam of light that Henry knows is the Torpedo, moving so quickly that the normal human eye can’t even focus on him before he makes a hundred more attacks. But like every time before, the Ranker seems to get a signal of whatever he’s been trying to do has been complete, and he ends it.

The Ranker  shoves hard enough and fast enough at the Torpedo  That he hits a building so hard that it begins to shake, and escapes as quickly as a blink of an eye.

Henry sees his chance, and he jumps for it— quite literally.

“Oy, Torpedo!” He shouts, knowing that with his superhuman abilities he’ll be able to hear Henry through the turmoil. And as expected, he stands up— shaking off the Ranker’s latest attack— and looks up towards where Henry had called him from— the top of a five story building.

“Here goes nothing,” Henry mutters to himself, eyes clenched shut a he sucks in deep and jumps— feeling the air whip against him with a vicious sort of vindictiveness— like wind spirits were real and they were laughing at how fucking stupid Henry is for playing with fate like this. And all Henry could do is hope that his Grams puts up a nice memorial bench for him once he becomes a splatter on the pavement.

But then— in an instant— Henry feels a body colliding into his own, and the breath being knocked out of him, before the pair of them stop in the middle of an alleyway, and it’s all Henry could do not to lock his knees and puke all over the crisp suit of the Torpedo.

“Mother of Christ it worked,” henry pants in wonderment of himself, one hand slamming against the wall directly behind him, while the other arm is slung around his stomach.

“You fucking maniac!” Is the first thing Henry hears from the Torpedo once they’re on safe ground— though he still looks like he’s swimming in open air if anyone were to ask Henry.

“It— Ahem, it was the only sure way to get your attention,” he defends, admittedly pretty weak but whatever.

“God Henry! Can’t you be like a normal reporter and ask to become a cable talking head!” The torpedo bellows, but Henry is gleeful.

“You remember who I am?”

The Torpedo goes still— stuttering on whatever he was about to say next, as if Henry had caught him in some sorta filthy lie.

He glares with a harrumph. “Course I do, you’re the idiot from before who almost died because he’s stupidly inattentive towards himself. I’m starting to think that’s a trend with you.”

Henry twists up his lips, unamused but reasoning that being cross won’t help him if he’s trying to work with this prick.

“I'm also the guy who gave you my number so we could sort out this Ranker business once and for all.”

The Torpedo rolls his eyes at him, weight slung to his left hip and arms crossed incredulously against his chest. It’s such a painfully Alex move that Henry starts to feel reinvigorated, reminded of why he’s doing this in the first place.

“Listen, I get that guys who look like you probably aren’t that accustomed to what a blow off is—“

“I’m not trying to seduce you asshole,” Henry spits, he admits it might come off a bit menacing but the head on this guy, Jesus fucking Christ. “I’m happily in a relationship.”

The Torpedo looks strangely pleased with this news, but Henry doesn’t spare anytime trying to figure out what that might mean. Working with him is going to be fucking exhausting.

“Alright goldilocks, then why the hell did you want my attention so damn badly?”

“Oh fuck, do you just not listen! For precisely the reason I had told you! I want to put the Ranker away, for good.”

The Torpedo’s mouth hardens into a straight line, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“’S too dangerous for just a normal human.” He says, and Henry’s just not going to stand for it, a fire like rage licking up his insides.

“I think I can decide determine that for myself.” He says, mulish.

“I thought we’ve come to the consensus that you shouldn’t be trusted for your own well being?” He needles.

Henry’s over the small talk.

“Look, my boyfriend— the man I intend to marry one day! Was roughed up by some of the Ranker’s fucking little minions, and the amount of people this must’ve happened to is probably astronomical! So you listen up, I’m not going to just stand around idly by. I know for a fact that we’ll figure out his intentions much quicker together than apart! So for the love that is holy and right will you just stop being a complete wanker and agree to work with the lowly human,” Henry says this all without barely a breath between words, not having noticed just how close he’s gotten to the Torpedo, how their eyes are boring into one another’s now with a sudden, heated intensity. 

A silence lapse between them, but Henry doesn’t stand down.

“You’re intent on this, huh?”

“To a grave degree.”

Another silence before the Torpedo just shuts his eyes, tilting his head like he can’t bother to argue anymore. 

“Fine. Let’s talk it out.”

The tension building in Henry’s chest finally deflates, replaced by a sort of remarkable brightness that makes his insides buzz with excitement.

“Wonderful! I work over at the Sentinel’s headquarters right past the Meat Packing District, on forty-second. Meet me there Wednesday night.” Henry instructs, probably a tad too enthused, but he doesn't care, he finally’s getting somewhere.

“Hold up Goldilocks, i said I’d work with you, not the whole damn paper.”

“Don’t get your pants in a twist, folks work outside the office on Wednesdays usually, and it’ll be late enough that we can take up one of the conference rooms without anyone interrupting.” 

The Torpedo smirks now, and Henry already knows what’s coming.

“You sure you’re not trying to seduce me darling?”

“Wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you, I don’t really go for guys in spandex,” he retorts.

“Hey! ’S good material for the shit I have to deal with!” He defends, affronted sounding.

“I’m sure, but I’m running late for a lunch date as it is, so just bring the intel you’ve got on’m Wednesday and we’ll converse then.” Not really sure what to do, Henry awkwardly claps him on the shoulder before exiting the alleyway, an excited smile breaking his face in half as he thinks of all the change they could do now.

~*~

Strange enough, it becomes a sort of standing meeting for the next few weeks— Like Alex and Henry were adding a second date night to their schedules. Well a date night where only one of them knew the other’s identity, and where they spent the whole time perusing through stacks of files ranging from the dates and locations of the Ranker’s attacks within the past year, from any new gang activity that had sprung up afterwards. Also a date where Henry studiously sat as far away from a masked Alex as possible, and who remained stiff for the entirety of the two hours they would talk. 

They end up successfully predicting the two next places that the Ranker targets, and it’s a thrill. Alex however makes it a point that Henry isn’t allowed anywhere near the area until Alex has surely staved the Ranker away. It’s a point of contention between them, but it’s a point that Alex won’t budge on.

He knows Henry, knows how he strives for the public’s safety the same ways Alex does, but where Alex was hit by a molecular transmitter when he was only nineteen— giving him powers and abilities beyond comprehension— Henry’s only got a pen and paper as his main weapons of defense. And Alex knows this vendetta runs even deeper than that for him, knows that Arthur— Henry’s dad who played a hero in Hollywood films— was kidnapped and eventually killed by a Luthor family member, directed by Lex behind bars. 

Alex sees the glitter in Henry’s eyes, the vigor embedded in them. And it what makes him want to lock the Ranker up, more than anything else. 

“You’re intense Mountchristen,” Alex tells him on one of those Wednesday nights, can’t help but gaze at the way Henry sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, and how his brows begin to knit together, intent on his goal.

“Eyes to yourself Torpedo,” he retorts shortly, not bothering to even look up.

Part of Alex really appreciates how standoffish he behaves in front of dudes who are so obviously into him that aren’t Alex, but most of him hates the distance, hates the secrets that they’re both keeping from one another. It feels like the foundation between them is literally crumbling, even though they’re both doing this to ultimately protect the other.

“What a strange and convoluted circle you’ve ensnared yourself within,” Nora says on the night of the Sentinel’s first summer fundraising event, popping a bite sized snickers into her mouth as she lounges on her sectional in a little black dress that makes her look like a million bucks.

“You’re really unhelpful,” Alex informs her bluntly, adjusting is tie in the mirror after replying to Henry’s text that they’re headed down to meet him and June in five. 

“Well you know there’s only one sure fire way to escape it,” she crows, smile going snide as she stands up. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve begun drinking June’s crazy person juice,” Alex moans, really needing her to have been on his side for this. 

“You know they called Van Gogh crazy, and he was a genius who saw what others were too dumb to.”

“No Nor, they called him crazy because he ate yellow paint and cut off his ear as a gift.”

Nora cuffs him on the back of the head. “You’re being crass.”

“Ouch,” Alex squints, rubbing the tender spot. “And you’re being especially mean.”

“Only because you’re so dense sometimes,” Nora sniffs. “Now c’mon we were suppose to be there like an hour ago. What were you even doing all this time.”

Alex goes back to checking his reflection, absently gesturing towards the abrasively yellow binder on his coffee stand that he’s begun keeping here, less Henry accidentally finds it while rummaging around in Alex’s place. 

“Just going over some of the information Henry and I have been gathering, reading through it and everything.”

Nora flips it open, perusing through the papers leisurely. “And what have you guys found out in these little trysts of yours?”

“First of all, shut it,” Alex casts her a glare, just for good measure.  “And not much. There’s no real rhyme or reason to his attacks, except we did figure out that like after a month from the initial incident, there’s another one hitting the same place by some of his mysterious henchmen, like a month later— on the very dot.”

“The very dot?” Nora asks slowly, her voice adopting that tension it does when she’s piecing something together she wishes she wasn’t. Like the time she figured out the dude who owned their favorite frozen yogurt place in Brooklyn was actually the same person robbing a series of banks with his uncanny ability to literally turn into gas.

“Yeah—“ Alex turns around, rigid as he prepares for her next blow.

“Well a month ago you guys have it that The Ranker hit up Time Square, don’t you?”

And like a bucket of ice water pouring over him, Alex understands what she’s insinuating immediately.

“The sentinel!”

“June and Henry.”

Before either of them could take another breath, Alex has changed into his gear and lifts Nora up bridal style, racing to them and praying to any God who will listen that they’re not too late.

~*~

The sentinel is holding a special event to celebrate the continuous and substantial donations by the Richards family to their editorial board, with special honors given to the head of the political dynasty, Jeffery Richards.

Professionally, Henry is thankful for their money flow into the Sentinel’s tireless efforts to get meaningful and factual stories out into the public sphere. Personally? Henry thinks he’s the definition of a complete and total twat, and has wished on more than one occasion to give him a swift right hook for his backwards social views and another kick in the gut for his purely one percent focussed fiscal policies. This is why Henry is shocked to find Rafael Luna, Alex’s practical idol, exchanging seemingly pleasant small talk with him near the champaign fountain. But he supposes stranger things have happened, and decides to take a swig of his gin and tonic instead of worrying about it.

Henry must admit that there’s a certain panache— a peculiar charm—  to American parties that can’t ever be replicated in quite the same way.   The people are more boisterous than their English counterparts, more willing to mingle between groups and laugh hysterically to jokes that really don’t warrant as much. Henry thinks it’s funny, especially when he considers how much less these folks drink in comparison to the upper echelon of London society— the class of folks  Henry was born and bred to become the crown jewel of, up until his unceremonial rejection of those trite ideals. Considering where he is now— working to make an actual difference in this city, and surrounded by the most important people in his world, Henry’s thankful so much for his decision.

Speaking of which, Henry sees one of those people,  catching June’s eye from across the room, matched boredom on her face. She tips her glass his way, a small, comforting smile on her lips before mouthing a dramatic, “save me.”

Henry laughs,  finishes his glass and grabs a flute of the wine  to join her but is suddenly accosted  by a older couple made up of a woman  sporting  such large diamonds hanging  off her ears that Henry’s afraid one of them might just tear off, and a man, obviously her husband, who keeps glancing over Henry’s lips and slightly exposed collarbones in the most unsubtle way ever. Jesus fucking Christ, Henry was so close to home base.

“Elias and I saw you leaving that conversation with the Galloways and simply just had to sweep in,” the woman says in lieu of a greeting. Henry recognizes them now. Elias and Barbra Bellington, one of the Harold’s most formidable backers— He reckons he should play nice then.

“I’m flattered,” Henry says with a pleasant grin, shaking her hand and then her husband’s.

“We read that latest entry you did on that masked fellow who’s been terrorizing this city,” the husband explains.

“The Scarlet one.”

“The torpedo,”  Henry nods.

“Yes,” her husband swallows before averting his gaze from Henry’s lips yet again. “You deserve a pulitzer for  finally trying to figure out who he is. It’s been nearly half a decade with him  ravaging these streets and diverting the funds and work  from our officers.”

“A scoundrel by any other name if you ask me.”

Henry is so fucking confused how they got that from his piece.

“Erm, ahem. Thank you both for the kind words, but truly, It was more about his feud with the latest kingpin, the Ranker, than anything else.” Henry tries explaining, hates it when his work gets boiled down to a few salacious bullet points for the headlines. 

“They’re all the same if you ask me, rotten and only here to create chaos in our communities”.

Henry parts his lips to retort, most likely with a too loud  argument that she’s just flat out wrong, but then his eyes focus back on Luna, watching him part ways with Richards, and he’s always been so god damn curious for his own good.

“I’m sorry but I see a colleague of mine that I actually needed to touch base with on a upcoming story,” Henry coughs while excusing himself.  “You don’t mind if I just step away for a moment,” He’s relieved when they nod congenially and promise to find him later on in the evening 

Henry exchanges congenial nods and small grins with his colleagues as he cuts through the throng, stopping in front of Luna with less nonchalance than he would’ve liked, but whatever.

“Henry,” Luna smiles broadly, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “I was hoping to see you here.”

“I was happy to see you around,” Henry smiles in turn, wonders if it comes across as painfully awkward as he thinks it does.

“Where’s Alexander?”

“On his way with Nora, I had to stop by a bit earlier for some business with the rest of the staff,” Luna nods and they both take sips of their drinks, perhaps a bit tensely. “So, ahem. I saw you speaking with Richards?”

Luna’s brows hike up, if only slightly.

“Yeah, he’s a big investor in my lab as well as the Sentinel. Wants to help us figure out this newest wave of super mutants.”

Henry pins him with a one eyed squint, confused as all get out why Richards of all people would want to help with something so— Well so scientific.

“I know, I was surprised too,” Luna laughs, reading his expression. “But it’s true! Even had some of his men collect those mole samples I’m sure Alexander has talked your ear off of. They’re really something remarkable Henry.” He trails off into a deeper conversation on what their existence means, but Henry stops listening, the gears in his brain turning at rapid speed. And God, it’s so obvious. How did Henry not notice this before.

“I’ve— I’ve got to go.”

Luna furrows his brows. “Is everything okay?”

“I— I don’t think so,” Henry admits, racing upstairs to the offices where he’s been meeting with the Torpedo these last few weeks. He’s not really sure what he needs to do, or how he can even get the Torpedo’s attention so randomly, but he feels it in his gut that it’s urgent.

Though he’s stopped midway up the stairs, and it’s like his stomach drops out completely once he realizes by who.

“Richards—“

“Mr Mountchristen, I was hoping to get to speak with you.”

Henry feels himself beginning to quake, stepping further back, bit by bit.

“Is— Is that right,” Henry stammers out, wincing when his back hits the wall andRichards keeps on coming closer.

“You’re bright, I saw the tricks you pulled to get the Torpedo’s attention,” he nods slowly. “It was only a matter of time till you or that scarlet scoundrel pieced it together.” 

“So, I’m right. The samples you’ve been giving to Luna’s lab, they were early archetypes of the beasts you’ve been harvesting.”

“And they say blonde’s are dumb.” Richards chuckles, twining a finger in Henry’s hair, close enough for his hot breath to smack Henry in the face.

“So what? You found an alien to harvest the cells from or are they just growing off of you? And why do it? What’s the point of all this?”

“Hmm, well  seeing that you’ll be dead  soon enough,” Richard snarls, clamping a hand around Henry’s neck, and squeezing for good measure. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you how I purposefully exposed myself to the molecular explosion that ravaged the city a few  years ago. It gave me the ability to multiply at a whim, though alas not quickly enough.”

“It took a month for them to fully form,” Henry realizes, squinting when Richards squeezes harder. He claws against the hand Richard’s is using to obstruct his airway, but there’s no hope. “And what,” he wheezes out, seeing stars glitter the distance. “You wanted to create a little army to take over the city?”

“New York should be so lucky!” Richard yells, crashing Henry’s head against the wall with such force that everything begins to fade into darkness. “Ever since that damn Claremont got her hooks into it we’ve gone down the shit hole!” 

Crack.

Henry’s head cracks the wall again, and everything blurs, stars glittering in the distance.

The last thing Henry sees before completely blacking out is the windows shattering open and a dash of red.

And oh.

.-

The next time Henry comes too he’s met by florescent lighting and white sheets, can feel the cool liquid of an IV pumping into his wrist.

He can hear people calling his name, but he can’t focus on it, can’t focus on anything. All he wants is Alex, and he can’t believe the secrets he’s been keeping from Henry all this time. The secrets henry has been hiding himself.

~*~

Alex has been up a total of forty-three hours at this point, but he shrugs off any of the well meaning suggestions given by his friends or the doctors to finally shut his eyes and go to bed. He can’t. He won’t. Not until Henry wakes up permanently and he looks at Alex with his beautiful, cornflower eyes, and smiles at him with that heavenly grin, and twines their fingers into one another. Exactly how they should be. 

God, Alex can’t believe how stupid he’s been. Keeping these secrets from him, trying to protect him all this time, but it ended up pointless. Henry’s here, golden hair fanned on eggshell sheets and blue veins tracing his pale skin and looking like some sort of modern day sleeping beauty—  an etherial being— that Alex can’t dream of ever touching again.

Alex kisses Henry’s hand, swears that he’ll be honest and forthcoming just as soon as he wakes up and Alex  can look back into those bottomless, blue eyes for all the time to come.

.-

The exhaustion must’ve caught up to him, because suddenly everything goes dark and Alex’s next memory is of a gentle hand carding through his hair. He opens his eyes to find Henry peering down at him, crooked grin looking all levels of endeared.

Jesus, Alex is so lost on him.

“Morning gorgeous.” Henry says, still looking far too fragile for Alex’s liking in that hospital robe and with like half a dozen machines hooked up to him, but it doesn’t stop Alex from kissing him with all he has. 

“You fucking bastard, don’t you ever do that to me again.” Alex pleads wetly, hands cupped around Henry’s face and never wanting to let go.

“Well Alexander, if we’re being fair, I think I’ve still got a hundred other chances to unwittingly make you terrified.”

Alex frowns now, the realization slowly coming over him to what Henry’s words are alluding towards.

“You know!”

“I figured it out Torpedo,” Henry says, soft enough so that Alex has to strain to hear him.

“Bu—But when?”

“I think the between the second time Richards tried knocking me out, and you crashing through the office like some sorta renegade. Also you are not slick Alexander, the way you were checking me out during those meetings was frankly obscene.”

Alex feels his cheeks redden, disbelieving laugh punching out of him.

“I can’t help it, you’re really sexy when you’re all in your element.”

Henry smiles sweetly at him, turning his head to kiss one of Alex’s palms still clamped around his face.

“Says the literal superhero that millions of people around the world thirst over.”

Alex sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, wrestling down a grin.

“So you’re not mad that I kept this secret  from you?”

“Oh I’m furious,” Henry corrects. “But I reckon you’ve got a lifetime to explain your actions to me. And I might have been guilty of the same sort of indiscretion, if you squint.”

“Hah, just like a Brit, trying to absolve himself of the blame,” Alex snarks, kissing Henry’s tongue when he sticks it out to waggle at him. 

“Gross.”

“Think you mean sexy."

“Where’s Richards when you need him,” Henry sighs, faux put upon.

“Not funny,” Alex fumes, is only restrained from flicking him on the ear considering his current predicament.

The laugh that Henry lets out right then is something mellifluous and beautiful and what Alex could listen to on a loop for all the eons to come.

“No but truly, what happened to that prick anyhow?” 

“Tied him up with the evidence we collected, and called Officer Amy to make the arrest.” Alex explains, threading his fingers through Henry’s hair. “He’s locked up now. Probably’s gonna stay that way for a while.”

“So it worked out?”

“Henry, no situation in which you are at all injured is things working out,” Alex reproves caustically. 

Henry shakes his head at him. 

“God, such a softy Alexander.”

That time Alex does flick him on the ear and isn’t even sorry about it.

.-

Buy Me A Coffee?🥺

[thoughtsofamidnightson]

title: Epiphany

series: Thoughts of a Midnight Son

part: 1 / 1

setting: Eclipse, before the proposal

word count: 3114

rating: T

author’s note: This is my first piece ever written from Edward’s point of view, and my first time writing Twilight fanfiction in seven (?!) years. My aim was to make it as canon as possible. If you read it, I would love to hear your honest opinion — if anything can be improved, I would like to know. A special thanks to @obstinateswan on Instagram for being an extraordrinary beta reader. 

On so many occasions during the past ninety years, I had wished to sleep. To kill the inharmonious symphonies constantly buzzing in my head, to be enclosed in complete and utter silence, to not hear the happy and life-affirming thoughts of love in my family. It was tiring. Tiring to be reminded every living second that while the six others had a purpose for living, a raison d’être, I drifted through life (if you could even call it that) with no aim or progress. After the first time, earning a medical degree wasn’t exactly an accomplishment, much less a reason to live. I didn’t share my father’s admirable self-control, which meant I couldn’t even put my exceeding knowledge of medical theory to use and devote my inexhaustible time to save lives. And as I was frozen in a 17-year-old body, I neither could engage in any other purposeful field of work. Just infinite books and tunes, for all eternity. When you spend so much time just existing, there comes a time when you wish you could succumb to the sweet release sleeping would be and simply not exist. A couple of hours once a decade would have sufficed.

But now, lying here next to the sleeping form of the purest and most beautiful creature to ever have existed, I was grateful for my lacking ability to repose; every second I was awake meant another second of watching Bella sleep. Of studying her peaceful face, listening to her slow heartbeat and her deep, even breaths, and, if I were lucky, and I often were, getting a delightful glimpse of her otherwise inaccessible mind, of her unedited and honest thoughts. There were few things for which I would trade that opportunity.

Almost on cue, she murmured my name, her mouth barely moving, her eyelids fluttering slightly, and as if the words were obliged to follow like they were my surname, she whispered, ‘I love you.’ My chest instantly filled with warmth (albeit an illusion), and like every other time I had heard her say my name in her sleep, it felt as if my heart skipped a beat.

But it didn’t. Or rather, it skipped every beat. It always would. From that night in nineteen-eighteen till eternity, it would stay the same: hard as stone and cold as ice—reminding me that although the ability to witness Bella sleep had made me feel somewhat of a fondness for my otherwise condemned nature a moment prior, there was still nothing I wanted more in this world than to not be what I was. To be warm and soft, to be mortal. Human. To feel my heart pump to the rhythm of Bella’s. To fall asleep with her in my arms. To dream about her. To kiss her without holding back. To feel the comfortable exhaustion, in my head and in my body, from staying up all night together. But more than anything else, I wanted—every frozen cell of my undead body wanted—to give her a normal human life, a human relationship. A love that did not force her to make a choice between constantly facing the risk of dying, or immortality. I wanted to attend college with her, to stay up and write assignments, get tipsy together at private parties, to take her out on dinner dates, to watch her face and body change as time went by, to give her children— as many or as few as she wanted—to grow old with her, to look at our grey hair and think of all the years I’d been blessed with her love, of how much we’d lived and loved in just one lifetime. One lifetime with her would never be enough—forever wouldn’t be enough— but was limited time the price I was willing to pay if it meant we could have a human relationship? I wanted her to experience all aspects of human love, and I, selfishly, wanted to experience them with her. Aspects I had, although having heard humans value them for nearly a century, so wrongly judged as trivial and superfluous. They were not, however, and I saw that now that I loved someone myself; what I wouldn’t give to have those seemingly mundane human moments with Bella.

Yet maybe eternity was exactly what I wouldn't give in return for being human together. How could you fit the infinite sea into a fixed container, force boundless love into measured time? As much as I longed and craved for these other terms of existence, I also couldn’t ignore the simple fact that if immortality had not been forced upon me all those years ago, I never would have had the chance to meet Bella. Frankly, I plausibly would have died before she was even conceived. Regardless of how many times I thought about it, it always afflicted me; the universe had granted me a reason to live. A reason to be truly content at the core of my being—that is, loving Bella and having her miraculously and for some unfathomable reason love me in return. But I was only alive to experience it because the same universe had taken my mortality and made me a blood-lusting monster—whose very existence threatened the life of this only reason to live. It never ceased to seem like a sick joke to me. A ludicrous paradox. But perhaps the perfect world simply could not exist. Perhaps it was only fair. To me, not to her. From the moment I had first touched her life, the universe had been unfair to her. Had it been fair, it would have let her escape, made her flee while she had the chance, let her move on when I had left. But it didn’t. She didn’t. And so she was here, lying in the cold embrace of a man (if that was what I was) who would never grow old with her, never make her a mother—never give her the human love she deserved more than any other soul in this world.

She stirred a little, nuzzling closer to me and laying her hand on my chest. I pulled the blanket tighter around her and glanced at her bare arm, checking for any indication that she was cold, but her skin was smooth as ever, almost glowing in the streak of pale moonlight that shone through her thin curtains. Lightly, she clenched the fabric of my t-shirt in her fist and let out a pleased sound. My body stiffened instinctively. Letting go of my shirt, her hand drifted lower, down my torso, while her lips muttered syllables, which, despite being incoherent, told me she appreciated whatever she was dreaming of. I carefully grabbed her hand before it could slide further down my abdomen and tucked her arm back in under the blanket. She quietly groaned in objection and I kissed the top of her head, breathed in her intoxicating scent, and let out a sigh. Oh, to be human.

I felt her settle against my side, grazing my ribcage with her nose before finally falling into a deeper sleep. Or so I thought. ‘Change me,’ she suddenly pleaded into my shirt, still clearly asleep, and my lips twitched up into a humorless smile; how preposterously ironic it was that while I lied here, so desperately wishing that the heart in my chest was beating, she dreamt of hers freezing forever. The thought sickened me, although less now than before; I had come to realize that it was the inevitable future. Not because our relationship couldn’t continue if she stayed human (it could), nor because we were bound by the laws of our self-proclaimed overlords in Italy. No, Bella’s future as a vampire could not be prevented because she was extraordinarily and incomparably stubborn, and she wanted to be turned. It went against everything I wanted for her; it was everything I did not want for her. It was the future I had feared the most next after her premature death. But she had made her decision, and I would have to live with it.

I tried to picture her. Alice’s visions had gotten incredibly (and frustratingly) clear, crystalline, lately, so imagining Bella with golden eyes and marble skin wasn’t exactly difficult. What was difficult was imagining Bella like this without feeling prodigious disgust. Not that I didn’t find the sight itself appealing; she was impossibly beautiful—immortality wouldn’t change that. No, it was the mere idea of her giving up her life only to be with me which made me sick to my stomach. Although it had been a while since it had last appeared in my mind, the image of Hades condemning Persephone to a life in his kingdom of the dead suddenly burned my retina.

I clenched my eyes shut, trying to shove away my glum thoughts. I might have been Hades, but Bella wasn’t Persephone. I knew that now. Unlike the daughter of Zeus and Demeter, she had had a choice; it was her own decision to give up her human life altogether. She wanted to be with the monster. I would never intentionally, never willingly force her to renounce mortality in favor of my underworld—on the contrary, I had done everything in my power to prevent her katabasis. Did that mean I neither was Hades after all?

On one hand, I felt self-infatuated for still being with her. I had tried, tried to free her from the destiny she now had decided upon, and I had failed. I had been too weak. My selfish desires had won over her right to have a normal human life, and I had come back. I had stayed with her, because I couldn’t live without her. It might have been her own decision that she would give up her mortality, but it was a decision she never would have made—she never would have had to make—if I had stayed out of her life.  

On the other hand, and this voice of reason was quite often defeated by the former, she couldn’t live without me either. When I left her, I had caused her immense pain. I knew that, not only because the pictures from Charlie’s mind of her hollow-eyed and ashen face still haunted me. But because I knew she loved me, and if she had felt just a fraction of the agony and torture I had felt when we were separated, she still would have suffered enough for a lifetime. I knew the thought of aging, the thought of our time together running out, pained her greatly, and I could and would not put her through any pain again.

Except I would. Once my venom reached her blood, she would burn in hell, and she wouldn’t know when it would stop. All she would know was pain, the excruciating feeling of being burned alive. I winced at the thought, my fingers clenching into fists.

But the pain would stop, I reminded myself. She would wake up, feeling different—so different—but she would feel good, new. At least that is what I told myself. If I could believe she would enjoy life beyond the pain, that having forever together would be enough for her not to eventually regret her choice, the thought of turning her was slightly less intolerable.

She turned in her sleep, and I gazed down to check on her. The sight was breath-taking. Her soft lips were slightly parted, her long, dark eyelashes brushed her smooth cheeks, and the blanket had ridden a couple of inches down, revealing her bare shoulders and collarbone. I suddenly felt an overwhelming, though not foreign urge to kiss her on the neck, to let my lips linger on her hot skin while brushing my fingers down her arm. Would her chest flush? Would she sigh in pleasure? 

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall with a quiet groan, my face raised towards the ceiling, my arms crossed. When thoughts like these invaded my mind—and they frequently did—I repressed them. I felt ashamed and impure for letting her be the object of my carnal desires, for having any carnal desires at all. Repressing them helped me stay in control, but it didn’t make them go away. I wanted her. I could not deny that. So why did I deny myself thinking of her?

I knew she thought of me. Her dream earlier testified to that, as well as the fact that she often tried to initiate more when we kissed, and the look of disappointment, shame, and yearning on her face when I had to break it off. Sometimes I think she misread my reluctance towards intimacy as I not having the same desires as she. If only she knew—what she did to me, how much I cursed my nature every time I had to pull away, how much I wanted to deepen our kiss, how much I craved to touch her, to worship her like a Goddess. How every fiber of my being ached for the feeling of her naked body against mine, of being one with her. If only she knew how much self-control it took me not to be with her the way I had so blisteringly longed for since the day I fell in love with her.

But I refused to give in to the lust—both mine and hers. At least until after our wedding. The rational part of me loathed the idea of consummating our marriage while she was still human, but I sensed she wished to have this one experience before she was turned, and it was irritatingly hard to deny her anything she wanted. Especially when it was something I, somewhere in the dark and primal corners of my mind, wanted myself. And so, if she verbalized her desire to be intimate before her body froze forever, I would agree to make love on our honeymoon. Like human newlyweds, except this was a tad more dangerous; it could end fatally. And yet, I would make her this promise if need be, and not only because my forbidden and selfish desires had gotten the better of me; if she experienced the unequaled and ‘earth-shattering’ ecstasy, which I, through ninety years of being a telepath, had learned sex was, maybe—maybe—she would want to stay human. Just a couple of more years. Just long enough for her to finish college. By now, it was my only hope.

Thinking about this (slight) possibility made me wonder how high a percentage her longing for a more physical relationship took up of the reason she wanted to be changed. Was it twenty percent? Fifty percent? Eighty? Was the only reason she wanted to be like me that she didn’t think she would ever be… sated if she stayed human? For a moment, I imagined an alternate universe in which I had been the human and she the vampire. What would I have done? What would I have wanted her to do? Would I have wanted the same as she did? I merged the picture of her, golden-eyed, pale, and visually perfect, with a much blurrier portrait of a 17-year-old, green-eyed, and humanly flawed Edward Masen, Jr. Which thoughts would have occupied him if he had fallen in love with immortal Bella Swan in the year 2005? I, undoubtedly, would not have loved her less, meaning that I would have been as little willing and capable of living without her as I was now. In consequence, I would never in a million years have allowed her to just let me age, outgrow her eternal youth, and decay until my death. I would never want to die if being with her forever was a possibility. What was the point of an Elysium if she would never be there?

The only Eden, the only eternal peace, would be joining her in immortality.  

And we would be equal. I would free her from the perpetual fear of hurting me, her throat wouldn’t scorch in my presence, and she wouldn’t have to cling on to her last bit of self-control whenever our lips touched. We could be physically intimate as much, as freely, and as intensely as we wanted to. And we would have forever to love each other.

In equal delight and horror, I found that the thought of Bella and I being immortal together suddenly… appealed to me. Putting myself in her place and she in mine made it easier to see the advantages of her transformation. When I had gotten over the physical pain I would cause her and the fact that I had cost her a normal human life, there would be things I wouldn’t mind, would enjoy even in our new existence together. An odd, fluttering sensation filled my chest and stomach. The dust in the air suddenly seemed to glisten like specks of white gold. From somewhere in the dark, a sigh of relief could be heard.

I looked down at the angel in my arms, now sound asleep. Carefully, as not to wake her (though my experience was that not even deafening thunder could awake her in this state), I slid down in the bed and lied fully down next to her. With a feather-light touch, I brushed my thumb across her cheek, cupped her face, and as an overwhelming stream of unconditional and inexpressible love flowed through me, I kissed her on her forehead.  

‘I get it now,’ I whispered to her sleeping face, so quietly that I doubted she would have heard if she had been awake. ‘I dream of being with you forever, too.’

Unlike at her prom all those months ago and any other moment prior to this, I could now return these words without flinching in pain or dread. It felt indescribably magnificent.

‘But until the time comes, I will soak up and savor every moment your heart is beating,’ I told her, placing another kiss on her forehead. She responded with an appreciative sound and nestled impossibly closer to me. I couldn’t help the stupid grin I suddenly felt appearing on my face; no one would ever make anyone as happy as she made me.

I had never been ungrateful for the life Carlisle had given me (my existential hate had always been directed towards myself), but now I suddenly felt unprecedented and completely over-shadowing gratitude for the immortal life I had been granted. After all, it had led me to Bella, and she was all I ever wanted—and because she had made the choice she had, all I would ever have. Forever. 

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Didn’t get a lot of writing done today, so have an Avengers fic I never posted from 2016.

Howard Stark was on his way back from a night celebrating Stark Industries’ latest business deal.  He had invited Maria, but she never wants to come to these more causal things, saying Howard deserves “a night out with the boys” every so often.  He decided to forgo the chauffeur and drive himself back tonight – and his blood alcohol content actually cooperated with the idea.  He’d walked from work to the bar, and went to retrieve the Aston Martin from Stark Industries’ secure parking garage.  As Howard passed a dark alley, no different from five others on this street, a bulky figure wielding a hunting knife stepped out.  Howard knew quite well that even in his prime, he wasn’t a skilled fighter, and his prime was over thirty years ago. He carefully raised one hand while reaching into his back pocket with the other.  “Listen, I don’t want any trouble.  I’m getting my wallet out right now; it has over two hundred dollars in cash.  You can take it, and I’ll turn around and go the other way.”

Unlike any mugger with sense, though, the man didn’t accept the wallet, or demand that Howard hand over his watch, or his cufflinks, or his fancy cell phone (the carrying case for that is a bit obvious, miniaturization is definitely going to be the next area for improvement, Howard’s already working on a half-dozen ideas). Instead, the man punched Howard in the head and pulled him into the alley before he could get his bearings.  The beating continued, although the knife wasn’t brought into play yet.  Howard clawed at the attacker, hoping to provide enough of a fight that the man would seek out a different victim.  If nothing else, maybe Howard could make the man bleed, get some DNA evidence.  He managed to catch the edge of the man’s scarf, and pull it away.  Howard started to catalog the man’s features for a police report – brown hair, blue or green eyes, hard to tell which in this light, stubble, about six feet tall – when a flash of familiarity hit him.  “Barnes?  I thought you died decades ago.”

The attacker says “That’s not my name.”

“Oh? What is your name then?”  It’s highly unlikely to work, but sometimes even a practiced agent – which Howard was beginning to suspect this man was, based on the impersonality of the hits that still manage to hit every place that can cause maximum pain combined with the fact that Howard hasn’t been able to get even one hit in – will fall for the obvious simply because they don’t expect it.

The question actually made the attacker pause, one hand cold around Howard’s throat and the other raised in the air.  “I don’t know.  A weapon doesn’t need a name, only people do.”

Okay, Howard was being attacked by a crazy man.  Might as well run with what he had, hopefully someone will come by soon – the bar wasn’t in that bad of a neighborhood.  “Then how do you know you’re not Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th?”

“You said he was dead.  I am not dead.”  A hard punch to Howard’s kidney made the point especially clear.

“No body was ever found.  The fall should have been fatal, but if someone had come by in the next hour or two they could have taken him – you captive.”  Whoever this was, he wasn’t punching Howard as long as Howard was talking, and there’s a lot he can say about Barnes without going near anything classified.  “Maybe you don’t remember the name Barnes but Captain Rogers – Steve – called you Bucky.”

The man actually seemed to recognize this name, and Howard began to wonder if this might actually, miraculously, be Barnes.  “Bucky… Who are you?  How do you know so much about me?”

“My name is Howard Stark.  I was a friend of Steve’s and your friend as well.”

That brought the knife out, appearing at Howard’s throat.  “Prove it. Prove you’re not just tricking me to get me to break orders.”

“I have pictures of you at my house, even some with both of us together.”  The knife didn’t move.  “There’s also a photo in my wallet of Steve.  You recognized your name, you’ll probably recognize Steve.  He’s the blond man.”  

The man who might be Barnes sheathed the knife, but instead picked Howard up by the throat, holding him against the alley wall while he grabbed Howard’s dropped wallet with the other hand.  Credit cards, receipts, and cash were all dumped carelessly to the ground. Howard felt a twinge of guilt past the suffocation as his attacker pushed aside the photographs of Tony and Maria with the toe of his boot.  He stood stock still for a long moment before rounding on Howard.  “This is wrong!  The face is familiar, but the man shouldn’t look like that.”

“He was in terrible shape for most of his life,” Howard gasped.  “You’d probably remember him being about five foot two and ninety pounds.  I and another scientist gave him a serum that made him tall and strong, far more so than an ordinary man.  Come to think of it, you’ve probably got some too, the blood tests we did after you were rescued were a bit odd.”  This seemed to calm the other man, as Howard now had both feet on the ground and could breathe fully, although the man’s left hand still rested on his collarbone.

“Can you show me proof?”  

“Yes, I have photos of Steve before the serum as well.  I can even prove that you’re really Barnes, I have a copy of your fingerprints.”

“Good. Bring me to them.”

“Are you done trying to kill me?”

“Yes. If I go back, they’ll take what I’ve learned away from me, and I need to find out who I was.  The information I was given for this mission was obviously incomplete, and you are the only relevant source of information.”

“Okay then, follow me to my car; my house is bit of a ways from here.” Howard actually found it reassuring to have confirmation that this is the work of an organization, and not just a very crazy solitary mugger.  Hired killers can be bought out, and even a loyal agent can usually be persuaded to see reason.  A legitimately insane man would be far less predictable.

The drive home was the tensest half hour of Howard’s life, as Barnes – the man seemed less and less likely to be anyone else – was apparently carrying a pistol, and spent the entire ride pointing it casually at Howard’s let ear.

Howard turned to Barnes when they reached the mansion.  “I don’t suppose you could put the gun away for a bit?”  Of course, that just got the gun placed right at his temple.

“No. You’ll try to run, they always do.”

“I’m not going to try to run; I don’t need to.  They always run because they don’t want to die, but you aren’t trying to kill me.”  The gun didn’t lower, so Howard thought of something else.  “Look, you could probably kill me in less than five seconds without the gun. I’m not asking you to throw it away, just put in your pocket or wherever you had it before.”

“If you’re not trying to escape, why does the location of the gun matter?”  Barnes seemed honestly curious, apparently unaware that not all social situations are improved by firearms.

“If you have the gun out, my wife, as well as possibly the butler or the doorman, will see you and call the police.  They’ll assume that my life is danger.”

“If I have the gun out, I can shoot them before they can call for help.”

That startled Howard, hearing Barnes talk so forthrightly about shooting random people just for being in the wrong place.  “NO!  If you shoot them, I won’t tell you anything about your past.”

“You will tell me all I need to know, whether or not you want to.”

Howard changed tack again, realizing that an exchange of threats with an amoral assassin – possibly with the serum, based on the alley – was unlikely to succeed, and putting on the sweetness instead.  “I’m not trying to threaten you.  If you’re willing to follow some of my – guidelines, I’ll be much more cooperative, and you’ll find out what you need to know faster.  I’m just trying to warn you that shooting anyone will make the police come, and then you won’t have as much time to look at the pictures of your past.”

Barnes looked at Howard for a long moment.  “In the field, it is necessary to defer to those with more expert knowledge of the situation at hand,” he stated, then tucked the gun somewhere under his coat. Howard breathed out and led Barnes in to the house, trying to convince himself he wasn’t letting his family’s future murderer in the front door.

~~

After two hours, Howard has been able to figure out a few things about the situation.  First, the man before him truly was Barnes, at least according to the finger prints from the right hand.  The other hand is metal, which can be seen to go up past the elbow when Barnes removes his jacket due to being too warm.  Barnes doesn’t know who wanted Howard dead, other than that Barnes believes them to be the same people he usually works for.  However, Barnes’s memory is completely shot – he not only doesn’t remember the war, but also doesn’t remember anything beyond a few months ago, although his sense of time seems odd, with Reagan having been president then.  

“Why don’t you go to bed now?”

“I have not yet recovered the missing information; several of these objects trigger headaches and images but the images are incomplete.”

“I need to go to bed now.  It’s one a.m. and I have an eight a.m. meeting in the morning.”

“Your presence is not necessary for me to gain information.”

“You can take that big trunk with you; it’s mostly pictures and files about things you already witnessed.  But I’d really prefer that you stay in a guest bedroom overnight; you’ll startle the maids if you stay in my study.”

Barnes cocks his head, obviously trying to figure something out, then nods. “I will follow you to my assigned quarters.”  Barnes picks up the trunk – no mean feat, it’s three feet long, two feet wide and two feet deep and full of paper – and watches Howard like an actor waiting for the next cue.  

Howard decides that one the third floor east wing guest rooms will do – Howard, Maria, and Tony have rooms on the north side, and the servants who stay overnight are all on the west wing, this is as far away from innocents who might be in danger as he can put Barnes while keeping the man in the house.  Barnes doesn’t look around, doesn’t ask about food, just sets the box down and resumes paging through it.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom behind the door on the left, feel free to use it if you need to.”

Barnes looks up and meets Howard’s eyes, but gives no other sign if he likes his accommodations.  Howard leaves the room and head towards his bed, but not before stopping at his lab to turn on the surveillance cameras for that wing, and check the footage from outside.  

~~

As Howard slipped into bed, Maria murmured “Hmm, you got in late.”

Howard: “I met an old friend, and he needed a place for the night.  I put him in the east wing; I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.” His voice is still a bit hoarse from being choked around the neck, but luckily Maria seems to accept it as exhaustion.

Maria: “You know the reason had better be good, I hate being unprepared for guests.”

Howard: “Trust me, my dear, it is.  Now why don’t we both get some rest?”

[sparklyjojos]

CARNIVAL DAY recaps [6/13]

Today’s recap: A memory of a great magician, the Sophists unmasked, and the apocalypse drawing near.

--

THIRTY-SIX

12 Apr 1997 — 18 Apr 1997

BLIZZARD QUEEN

--

On April 5th, a Mossad spy is about to be publicly hanged in Baghdad, but just after the noose is tightened, all the other people gathered at the scene suddenly start suffocating and dying one after another. The bodies all have marks of something that had been wound around their necks. The spy is unaffected and survives. A skull of the Billion Killer is found between the bodies.

On the same day, the Billion Killer investigation makes a leap forward. The US government asks the world to organize an international search for someone who has been missing ever since the start of the Crime Olympics, and who might help uncover the Billion Killer’s secret—the famous magician David Copperfield.

Several of Copperfield’s illusions are interesting in the context of the Billion Killer cases. Making the Statue of Liberty disappear, floating over the Grand Canyon, walking through the Great Wall of China, the Bermuda Triangle special, the Niagara Falls stunt, the escape from an exploding building…

Copperfield never hesitated in performing spectacular challenges. It’s perfectly fine to do small magic just for the sake of brief entertainment and joy of others, but when one attempts to truly move people’s hearts, to give them an unforgettable emotional experience, it is necessary to focus on conveying a plot, a theme through the magic. Copperfield’s illusions were constructed for this purpose; for example, he made the Statue of Liberty disappear to convey how precious liberty is and how easily it might be lost.

Out of the thirty-four Billion Killer cases so far, five happened in places Copperfield used for illusions (Statue of Liberty, Grand Canyon, Great Wall of China, Bermuda Triangle, Niagara Falls), and four had to do with destroyed buildings (JDC, Empire State, Greenwich, St. Mark’s Clocktower). Copperfield also made an Orient Express car levitate and disappear—compare the Trans-Siberian Express briefly flying through the air once it derailed. Walking through walls could perhaps be how that mysterious man in the cartel shooting case managed to escape the locked room. Copperfield once had a show in the Osaka Castle, and surely would know how something like the New Berlin Wall could be made to appear and disappear. The magician’s ability to make big objects float could be how the stone spheres of Costa Rica were moved.

That seems like an awful lot of coincidences. Even if David Copperfield wasn’t the Billion Killer, he could have been kidnapped and forced to turn over his magical secrets that would be then used for evil.

--

As Nemu watches the news, she realizes just how powerful a rumor can be. In the eyes of the public, David Copperfield quickly changes from a kidnapped innocent, to a member of RISE, to its leader, to the Billion Killer himself. The media never actually accuse him outright, but street interviews show what people think: “I can’t believe he’s the killer”, “I feel betrayed”, “I hope he realizes the error of his ways”. Humans are so quick to judge without even having the information necessary to make the decision. Perhaps that’s what Black meant warning them against “skim-reading”.

Yesterday’s enemy is today’s foe and vice-versa; yesterday’s hero is today’s murderer. Like a ridiculous, mad carnival dance led by the media.

Nemu, Otohime and Hyouma talk about the news. Hyouma only now understands what Kakuusan Kanke told him when they were in New York together—that the Billion Killer was probably an American person with a name similar to hers. What she meant is that her nickname Kappa sounded like the beginning of the name Copperfield.

In the end, they can’t decide whether Copperfield could be the Billion Killer or not, but discussing magic makes Nemu and Otohime recall a certain magician they knew when they were young, and they talk about their memories—about Juku’s father Saimon Ryuusui. As those memories reach over fifteen years ago, they’re quite scarce and blurry.

Saimon Ryuusui lost his life in the Saimon Family Murder Case that lasted from 1979 to 1980. He was a man of a magnificent and dignified posture, with swept back hair and a thin kaiser moustache, wearing a tailcoat on a daily basis. His policy was that a magician didn’t need words, and so he never spoke; not even his wife or Juku have ever witnessed the magician utter a single word. Instead he would write or gesture when necessary, and his wife could apparently understand his thoughts pretty well. Perhaps this devotion to silence was in itself the magician’s greatest illusion. Though never too popular, Ryuusui was widely recognized for his flexible creativity and practiced skill.

Ryuusui had lost his left hand in the Pacific War and used a prosthesis. It was hard to notice at first sight, as he always wore white gloves, even when sleeping. Sometimes he’d take off the prosthetic hand and make it float or crawl on the ground, and the spectators could inspect it freely afterwards. While simple, the Left Hand Magic is apparently famous as one of the greatest illusions of the Showa period. The secret method behind it is still unknown.

Nemu and Otohime weren’t quite Saimon Ryuusui’s family and so didn’t really know him, having only met him a few times. The image of the man they held in their minds was mostly created based on tales they had heard from Juku.

Juku also told them about the Miraculous Illusions, a set of thirteen pieces of magic that still hadn’t been finished by the time Ryuusui died. Juku was the only one who was ever shown them, and only once. Even he couldn’t figure out the methods behind them at all, and stated that if these illusions were to be perfected, perhaps it would lead to an omnipotent, all-purpose magic of sorts.

This certainly seemed like something that could be abused to create the Billion Killer crimes. Ryuusui has been dead for almost two decades now, but he left several apprentices, so maybe one of them got their hands on the illusions, perfected them, and decided to use them for crime.

--

THIRTY-SEVEN

19 Apr 1997 — 25 Apr 1997

MOUNTAIN WALL NIGHTMARE

--

Due to a sudden increase in yeti sightings in the Himalayas, a special investigation team is sent to the mountains, their movements recorded and watched by their companions back at camp. On April 12th, as the team is climbing K2 to get to the yeti standing above them, the creature removes its costume and reveals itself as a half-naked Asian woman in her mid-twenties, who’s somehow unfazed by the freezing cold. She’s saying something they can’t quite understand. At that moment a giant avalanche starts and sweeps the team away.

When their companions later search for the bodies, they find a skull of the Billion Killer. Footage analysis reveals the woman’s words were “the next case will happen in the highest place”, which must mean Mount Everest.

On April 19th, as another team is climbing Mount Everest, a mass of rocks shoots out of the wall and pushes them off so they fall to their deaths. Later, investigation finds a skull of the Billion Killer in the exact place where the rocks came from, as if the skull somehow appeared within the wall and pushed the rocks out.

--

...or at least that’s how the media portray it, but Nemu can’t help but feel this all seems fishy, like a carefully directed horror movie. Then again, it’s not like she has the information needed to make any judgment on whether it’s real or not. The Billion Killer’s greatest trick is showing people things that should be impossible.

Nemu thinks about the Miraculous Illusions a lot.

--

THIRTY-EIGHT

26 Apr 1997 — 02 May 1997

UNDERGROUND LOCKED ROOM

--

On the same day as the Everest case, Nemu, Otohime and Hyouma are told by Black that they themselves will take part in the next Billion Killer case. Nemu and Hyouma are going to serve as Dots, while Otohime will stay behind in the Sanctuary just in case the other two try to escape.

Black leads them to the “laundry room”, which turns out to be a small place with a water bed in the middle. A helmet connected with a strange machine is lying nearby. The room doesn’t look like a laundry, but Black explains that what they wash here is brains. All the Dots and Dogs undergo brain washing.

Black encourages them to lie down and put the helmet on to feel what it’s like, which Hyouma does against his better judgment. The result is a maddening moment of complete sensory deprivation that seems to last for ages (actually fifteen seconds) before Black helps him take the helmet off. Apparently half a day in that condition is enough to make a person forget who they are, and two weeks of it combined with a guiding voice from the speakers will create a loyal new minion.

Seeing their horror, Black assures them that RISE isn’t going to brainwash them (not now, at least). But if they were to undergo the procedure, they would hear instructions in the synthesized voice of someone especially close to them for the best results. Here’s who RISE determined to be “someone close” for each of them. For Hyouma: Yuu, Fuyuka Kasumi, and Ajiro. For Nemu: Souya, Juku, and Jounosuke. For Otohime: Hikimiya, Juku, and Jounosuke.

What this list implies is that RISE has been spying on them for a long, long time. And yes, Black knows that Hyouma and Ajiro are half-brothers (and now that he said it, Otohime and Nemu know it too).

Asked about Yuu, Black states the following: the Yuu who Hyouma met with during the Locked Room Lord case and who died was the real Yuu (who nevertheless was controlled by RISE), and the one who he drank with last year and who lives as a Dot is an imposter. That very convenient traffic accident that killed real Yuu was of course RISE’s doing.

While Hyouma is fuming with frustration, Nemu asks why on earth her “someone close” list started with Souya, considering they were simply coworkers. Black answers that the results were based on observation and analysis, and in Nemu’s case, the one to create the list for her was Yellow Bishop, Ajiro Souji. Nemu almost says something, but stops and gets lost in thought.

Asked about whether the Rainbow Sophists really are the S-detectives, Black says that the truth will be revealed after the next Billion Killer case. Right now he can only tell them that Dot-Nakamoto is the real Nakamoto, while Dot-Yuu and Dot-Unomaru are both imposters. RISE did get some use out of the real brainwashed Unomaru, but he’s already dead by this point.

--

Even more explanations follow. In order to spy on Dokuson and Hanto Maimu, RISE has planted several Spiders in JDC (Spiders are undercover spies, called that because “spy there” = spider). Unomaru looked like a great candidate for a Spider, so RISE snatched him from the sinking ship. However, Unomaru must have hit his head and sustained memory loss during the incident. He didn’t remember anything and was fully convinced his name was Marion. RISE tried to make him remember his real name with brainwashing, but no matter how many times he was told he was Suzukaze Unomaru, he stubbornly insisted his name was Marion. A full two weeks of the brainwashing procedure failed completely.

There had to be a reason for this unusual power of resistance. The Doctor believed Unomaru was subconsciously, instinctually sensing danger and protecting his hidden core memory as he could. RISE is able to manipulate everything in the “upper levels” of human memory, but anything that has been locked up behind the barrier of amnesia is hard to touch. Even if the brainwashing was successful, the locked memories would still remain and Unomaru could spontaneously revert to his real self one day.

In the end, they decided to perform this sort of temporary brainwashing, spending another full two weeks on the procedure, successfully convincing Unomaru that he had no name at all. He soon served as a Dot in the Loch Ness case. Then he and his two companions were told by RS to go to the Sanctuary’s dark room. While there, the other two had their heads blown off, which was enough shock for Unomaru to snap out of it to some degree.

Unomaru managed to flee the Sanctuary afterwards, and Black pursued him to make sure no troubles would follow.

By the way, Unomaru’s real name was a very plain Yamashita Saburou. His mother was Japanese, but his father Elfi Geppen came from Java, and half-Japanese Saburou faced a lot of bullying in his younger years. He quickly learned to hide his identity; in fact, his almost unnatural patriotism for Japan, speaking and acting like a samurai, taking on a more traditional sounding D-name, were all tragic efforts to make himself seem as Japanese as possible.

Black found Unomaru on Java, where he now worked as a rickshaw driver under the name of his father. After questioning him thoroughly, Black decided that Unomaru didn’t actually get his memory back, and his escape had been simply caused by fear after his fellow Dots died. However, Unomaru still could subconsciously recall information like his father’s name.

When the Borobudur case happened, Unomaru took the Billion Killer’s skull away from the scene, but before he could really hurt RISE’s case, he was killed in riots in Jakarta.

--

This was already a lot to digest, but Black then takes the detectives to another room to show them one other thing.

“Cold storage” turns out to host a bunch of pods with people in cold sleep. Black shows them a pod that he claims contains one of the Spiders, and the detectives are shocked to see it’s their good friend Christmas Mizuno.

--

A day before the next Billion Killer case, Hyouma, Nemu, and four Dots go through a security check to get to the heavily guarded Earth House, a fallout shelter in Idaho mountains.

The Earth House is a place popular with survivalists where anyone willing to pay can stay for two weeks, or even buy a right to evacuate there if a disaster strikes. The shelter is so big it’s basically an underground city. Soldiers are patrolling it at all times.

The group is split into two rooms. One party consists of an unknown male Dot, Hyouma, and fake Unomaru, all pretending to be ”the Yamashita brothers” (respectively Ichirou, Jirou and Saburou). The other group are “the Kawakami sisters”, Yuu (the fake Yuu), Nemu (Nemu) and Mii (an unknown female Dot).

The Dots are barely any company, considering they keep silent and still almost the entire time. Hyouma tries to question fake Unomaru about who he actually is, but the Dots say his questions make no sense (they are always who they need to be for the current mission), and they don’t recall having any real names before. Their utmost goal is to participate in Billion Killer cases, and they’re always observed by “R” or “Ra”, the Eye in the Triangle, which Hyouma as a not-Dot wouldn’t be able to understand. Hyouma asks a tricky question (“it’s only the Dots that are monitored? So you’re saying this whole almighty Ra somehow isn’t able to watch me at all?”). Nervous “Ichirou” starts stuttering in response, and all of a sudden his head explodes.

There’s a knock on the door, but thankfully it’s only the female Dots and Nemu. The Dots say that their unfortunate companion incurred the anger of Ra, but these things happen, there’s no need to mourn anyone stupid enough to go against Ra, and the mission will still go as planned.

Hyouma points out that the three got here with suspiciously perfect timing; even if they claim they didn’t know this would happen, it’s possible that the Dot’s death had been planned somehow. Nemu thinks that the Dots might have explosives implanted in their heads. Hyouma notices that fake Unomaru didn’t really seem surprised at the time of the explosion, like he’d seen that happen before. The Dots claim they’re safe as long as they don’t speak against Ra, but dead Dots were constantly found in Billion Killer cases, so is that really true?

Hyouma continues to jab the Dots with questions and make them uncomfortable, but stops once trembling “Mii” has her head blown up as well.

--

On April 26th, a colonel working in the Earth House apparently goes insane, kills many of his fellow soldiers, breaks the computer system so the entrance cannot be opened in any way, and sets the arsenal to explode. At exactly 1 PM, everything inside the shelter is destroyed in a ball of fire. Four hundred people die.

--

THIRTY-NINE

03 May 1997 — 09 May 1997

BLACK AND WHITE GROUND

--

[Let us backtrack a little to before the Earth House mission, and see what Hyouma and Nemu managed to learn from Black about what had happened with Yaiba Somahito.]

The boy that Yaiba kidnapped was found to have ties to the Locked Room Lord case. His name was Amano Jan [the first name coincidentally written 雀, so just like suzume]. After the train crashed and Yaiba and the boy were saved, an extensive investigation and questioning led by Dokuson himself revealed some surprising things.

Back when Yaiba was normally working at JDC, he got a mysterious call from someone who sounded exactly like his dead little brother Amato, and who told him he was going to die in the upcoming Crime Olympics. This was enough to upset Yaiba so much that soon he collapsed from stress. When he was hospitalized, a coworker brought him a nice set of blue polka-dot pajamas, and for some reason this was the point at which something inside Yaiba broke.

Not even Yaiba himself had been really aware of it, but Dokuson helped him realize an important fact: many years ago, Amato had been wearing similar blue polka-dot pajamas just before he committed suicide. When Yaiba saw a similar piece of clothing in the hospital, his traumatized mind was brought to a vulnerable state prone to manipulation and suggestions from Amano Jan. As the pajamas were brought with them on the train, Yaiba continued to stay under the spell. In a way, he wasn’t the kidnapper; he was the one kidnapped.

The boy later confessed to everything. However, it was obvious that a child couldn’t have come up with such a complicated plan. Yaiba’s coworker who brought the pajamas to the hospital went missing the day the train crashed, but all the investigative threads led from them to the JDC detective Yakuma Suzume.

--

Once Hyouma and Nemu get through the Earth House case unscathed, Black gives them some more explanations.

RISE plans on hosting seven “guests” in all:

Ryuuguu Otohime

Tsukumo Nemu

Amagi Hyouma

Christmas Mizuno

Diana Hosey

Hanto Maimu (and Kuraimu)

Yaiba Somahito

The detectives had already guessed there would be more guests, because their entire goal in the Earth House was finding Diana Hosey and bringing her to the Sanctuary. To their surprise, Diana had been investigating there along with Kakuusan Kanke, so they got Kanke to run away with them too. Mere minutes before the place would explode, fake Unomaru led them to a secret elevator that let them escape in the brink of time. Once outside, Hyouma and Nemu had to say goodbye to Kanke for now and take Diana to the Sanctuary, but at the very least they knew their fellow JDC detective was safe and sound.

--

Around the same time the Earth House is destroyed, a strange deja-vu incident takes place: Hanto Maimu and Kuraimu are kidnapped by Christmas Mizuno, who then escapes to China and boards the Silk Road Train.

Dokuson decides to entrust chasing them to Yaiba as a chance for him to clear his name and face the past. A week later Yaiba is successful in meeting Christmas and convinces him to go back to Japan with him, which should be the end of the story—but then both detectives, Maimu, and Kuraimu all disappear without a trace during the next Billion Killer case.

On May 3rd, the entire 600 km of train tracks from Samarkand to Ashgabat are suddenly replaced with checkered flooring made of black and white tiles, causing many trains to crash.

The Silk Road (shiruku-roodo) has turned into a black-and-white road (shiro-kuro-dou).

--

When Yaiba and the rest are on the Silk Road train, Christmas casually tells them he’s RISE’s Spider, and that they are going to be RISE’s guests. A few people in black suits show up to ensure they’ll follow.

Once they get to a giant underwater fortress known as the Sanctuary, they’re led to a meeting room where several other people are already waiting. There’s Hyouma, Nemu, Otohime, a girl who later introduces herself as Diana Hosey, and… another Christmas Mizuno? The moment Yaiba notices that something’s wrong here, the Christmas that just brought him there has his head blown off his shoulder. (The Dots clean up quickly, but still, Jesus Christ.)

Yaiba and Maimu (and little Kuraimu) join everyone at the table and get some very confusing explanations from their friends. Then a guy wearing all black and a mask shows up accompanied by a group of Dots and introduces himself as Black Rook or the Sanctuary’s Master (and from what Hyouma explains, the guy looks exactly like Jounosuke under the mask). One of the Dots resembles Suzukaze Unomaru. Yaiba honestly doesn’t understand what’s going on anymore.

Black Rook states that the seven guests will now have a chance to each talk with one of seven executives of RISE. The set order is as follows: Otohime will talk with Red Knight (Sullivan), Christmas with Orange Knight (Meiru?), Diana with Yellow Bishop (Ajiro?), Yaiba with Green Knight (Frau D?), Nemu with Blue King (Zerofini Roi?), Hyouma with Violet Queen (Ronely Queen?), and Hanto Maimu & Kuraimu with “Soft White”.

Everyone is escorted by Dots to the rooms where the executives of RISE are waiting for them. If the detectives are honest with themselves, they all quietly pray that the Sophists are the real S-detectives, because it would mean that Ajiro Souji is still alive.

--

Otohime already knows that Red Knight is Lemuria Sullivan, so she asks about his reverse reasoning. Sullivan says it’s not prophesying, but a logical process that lets him know the future; for example, he knows that Otohime is going to ask about Jounosuke, her family, and the other Rainbow Sophists. As for that last one, Sullivan can give her a straight answer: except for him, none of the others are S-detectives.

--

Hyouma immediately demands that Violet Queen tells him her real identity, so she removes her mask. It’s not Ronely Queen. Instead it’s a dark-skinned woman with beautiful eyes, and he has absolutely no idea who she is.

--

Nemu faces the Blue King. If it really is Zerofini Roi, then the nickname is quite fitting, as roi means a king in French. But why would Nemu be chosen to talk with the world’s greatest detective? So the first thing she says is, “You’re an imposter, aren’t you?” 

“As expected from Juku’s sister,” the woman laughs. “Calling me an imposter before I can even open my mouth.”

“Well, are you?”

Blue King removes her mask. She really is a woman in her thirties, but not Zerofini Roi. It’s someone Nemu already met and who she would never expect to see here.

--

Yaiba has never met Frau D before. He only knows that Frau D was a master of data analysis and that he allegedly died during the Crystal Nightmare. But when he meets Green Bishop, he gets a feeling like he’s facing an old friend.

“Have we met before?” he asks.

“We know about each other, but this is our first proper meeting,” Green says and removes his mask to reveal a face very similar to someone Yaiba knows.

--

Christmas knows some things about Firannu Meirunesia from Amagoi, who told him stories about their investigations. He’s not sure why he’d be chosen to talk to Meiru, and why now, when he’s still weak and groggy from a period of cold sleep, and right after he witnessed a guy looking like himself explode.

Even in his confusion, he gets an impression that he knows Orange Knight. Forcing his mouth to work, he asks about her identity. She answers that they know about each other’s existence, but haven’t met until now. Under her mask is a face uncannily similar to someone Christmas knows.

--

Diana hopes that Yellow Bishop really is Ajiro Souji, because then there would be a chance that Ronely Queen didn’t actually die back then, when she protected Diana in the Statue of Liberty case. Unfortunately, Hyouma was the one sent to talk with Violet Queen, while Diana is to possibly meet Ajiro, despite being the only guest who doesn’t know him at all.

“It’s been a while, Diana,” Yellow Bishop says laughing in a very familiar way before taking off his mask.

--

When Hanto Maimu enters the room, Soft White seems to be paying more attention to little Kuraimu in her arms. He says that it’s a hard job to raise a child alone and that Maimu will need help and understanding. Oh, and that he’s not actually the real White Rook, just acting like him right now. He’s very good at mimicking others, see. He once called her in Ajiro Souji’s voice, pretended to be the Yellow Bishop a few times… and he had the role of little Kuraimu’s father too.

Maimu almost walks out in anger at what must be a horrible joke, but then the man’s voice suddenly changes to the one she knows so well and calls her back.

“It’s a long story,” Maimu’s husband Tanna Sazen says as he removes his mask.

--

And so, the executives of RISE have their identities revealed.

Red Knight is Lemuria Sullivan, as everyone already knows.

Orange Knight is Joyeeta. Christmas doesn’t know her, but she looks very similar to her sister Tierra, who he met on Easter Island and who later died in the Great Pyramid case.

Yellow Bishop is Theodore Hosey, Diana’s father and the serial killer known as Deep Cut, who disappeared from his jail cell a while ago.

Green Bishop is Aleksandr Uryakov. Yaiba met his brother Drexel Uryakov on the Trans-Siberian Express and was told that Aleksandr was dead, but that was apparently not the case.

Blue King is Pacha Palermo, the same woman who served as Nemu’s guide and translator during her trip to Peru, and who gave her a hint about investigating in Russia next.

Violent Queen is someone called Fabian. Hyouma has never met her, but apparently she was that witness who saw Yemon’s escape from the cartel shooting case.

The one impersonating White right now is Tanna Sazen, Hanto Maimu’s husband and Kuraimu’s father. Usually, he and Theodore Hosey both act in the same role of the Yellow Bishop, switching places depending on the circumstances.

--

Secret identities aside, Otohime asks Sullivan about what’s going to happen once the Crime Olympics reach their end on August 10th—on Carnival Day.

“The fate of humanity depends on the Cosmic Bomb,” Sullivan says. “If it falls on August 10th, everyone including RISE will be wiped off the face of the planet. If it doesn’t fall, the history of a new human race will begin. The deciding factor to our fate is Black Rook, who holds the key to the Cosmic Bomb.”

They have three months before the fate of humanity will be decided.

--

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

[jimlingss]

Primae Noctis [M]

↳ aka. the right of the first night

➜ Words: 5.5k

➜ Genres: Smut, Porn without Plot (pwp), Medieval!AU

➜ Summary: Marrying Jungkook is your greatest fortune, but before you can leave the land forever, you owe one last favour towards Lord Min. As the lord of the land, he has the right to deflower you and you will happily allow him to do so.

➜ Warnings: 18+ ONLY, topics on virginity, depictions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, handjob, fingering, degrading, dirty talk, mentions on impregnation, cum play, idfk lots of smut shit.

Also disclaimer: there’s not a lot of evidence that Primae Noctis was a legit thing that happened in history - it’s more of a myth.

➜ NOTES: I’m struggling writing and posting for Jimlingss, so I’m taking a huge turn and from now on. I’m graduating from sfw writing and I’ll be writing pwp mainly. I’m doing what it takes to keep posting. Hope you understand. Thank you. Also shout out to @dovechim for encouraging me to try this concept out!!

Last night, you dreamt of him again.   It was nerve racking and when you awoke, your body had broken into a sweat, clothes drenched and your skin clammy. It was anxiousness that fluttered in the pits of your stomach and while today is a joyous occasion, you can’t keep your mind off of it.   “Are you well, child?” The old man stands at the doorway as you’re re-adjusting your overtunic, tugging on the coarse material to rid of its wrinkles. “You look sickly.”   “I’m fine,” you reassure him with a soft smile. You guide your father to the wooden stool, allowing him to rest his legs. Before you can pull away, he holds your arms, eyes saddened and glossing over.   His lips are downturned and with the frown on his face, more wrinkles crease and you realize just how old he is. It’s moments like these that you are all the more grateful. “I-I’m sorry. I-...If only I were more capable.”   “You are capable,” you ease your father with a bigger smile. “And Lord Min is a kind man. He gave me permission to marry Jungkook. He was the one who provided the dowry for us. And he waived the merchet for us. If it weren’t for him, I would be an unmarried old maid.”   He laughs and brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “You’d still be my precious daughter, married or not.”   You hold his feeble hands within yours, calluses and scars all around his skin that shows the decades of hard labour he had to endure. The rough texture of his flesh brings tears to your eyes and you swallow the thick lump in your throat down. “From now on, I’ll take care of you. You won’t have to work the fields so much anymore. I’ll visit lots. Jungkook and I both will.”   “Don’t worry so much about me. I won’t be lonely without you. I’m grateful.” He nods and sighs in relief. “As long as I know you won’t have to suffer as much as I did, I can sleep at night. Jungkook, he is a kind, young man.”   “And I love him as much as he loves me.” Such a feat is miraculous. Many of your friends were married off at younger ages to other slaves and serfs who shared no amount of affection for them.   But for you, you’ve known Jungkook since young. Despite being a poor farmer, he is a freeman with his own cottage and he works on his own land. It is a less laborious life than your father who is a serf. Though social standing aside, Jungkook is also generous and gentle. The banter and subtle courting drawn out for years had won you over and just a few hours ago, you had finally wedded to him.   Being married to Jungkook, you no longer have to work the land anymore. Most of your time will be spent with at home trades like brewing ale. From having less laborious work to Jungkook’s endearment for you, you cannot count your blessings enough. You are beyond fortunate.   Especially considering that Yoongi, lord of the land has gone above and beyond for you. He granted you permission to marry, even going as far as providing the dowry and waiving the fee that is usually required. He is compassionate and merciful, recognizing your affections for Jungkook and aware of just how poor your family is.   But now that you were permanently leaving his land, there was one thing left to do — giving him the right of the first night.   As lord of the land, Yoongi has the right to deflower you. It’s customary, part of tradition as well as a sign of gratitude. You are more than willing to offer yourself for him one last time.   “Good evening.” Your father bows his head.   “This is the girl?” The maid of the house eyes you up and down, skimming your body and lingering on the curve of your waist to the swell of your chest. You’re in shabby attire, clothes brown and white. Your wool stockings are over your legs, strips of cloth below the knee knotted to keep it up. The overtunic is over your gown, string tied around your frame to add shape and you also came in your apron after much consideration if it was appropriate.   Under her gaze, you’re burning in embarrassment. You hope he won’t mind. You’ve at least brushed your hair until all the knots were gone and you took two baths, cleaning yourself completely.   This was the best that you had. The silks Yoongi gave as the dowry has already been passed to Jungkook who you’ll join tomorrow morning for good.   “Come with me.”   “Good luck, my child.” Your father’s eyes are softened with both sadness and relief. He looks at your face once more, cherishing you. And you give a firm nod to ease his worries, entering the manor.   You’ll work hard not to disappoint your family name or the kindness of Lord Min.   The lady leads you through the twisting hallways and you’re glad you scrubbed your leather shoes to not track in any mud.   “Have you bathed?”   “Yes. Thoroughly.”   She glances at you over her shoulder. From what you’ve passingly heard, you know that the maids are supposed to scrub you from head to toe roughly with a sponge and make sure you won’t dirty Lord Min. But to your surprise, the head maid turns back around, perhaps trusting you.   “You’re a pretty one. I believe Lord Min will have an enjoyable time with you. Don’t be so nervous.”   She opens the door, head quirking to signal you to enter. You swallow, taking a few steps in the right direction. “He will arrive shortly,” is what she tells you and the door shuts.   It’s a simple bedroom, most likely not his own quarters, but where a guest could stay. There are two paintings on either side of the wall, one of a sunflower and the other of an apple. Despite it being rather empty, it is still grand with a ginormous bed in the center of the room. You’re sure an entire family could fit on it and as you approach, the intricate stitching of the silk sheets are visible.   You’re hesitant to even lay a hand on it lest you soil the delicate threads with your peasantry fingers.   You wait ten minutes, looking out the windows all around and watching as nightfall slithers through the sky, causing dusk to break over the horizon, painting the room in golden hues.   As you glance at the beautiful scenery, the noise and increasing footsteps up to the door causes you to whip yourself over. The door opens and you immediately bow, head downcasted, eyes pinned on the floor. “M-my lord.”   “Be at rest.” He shuts the door behind him and you swallow hard, heartbeat quickening in pace as he gets closer. All of your nervous dreams have been of this very moment. “It’s been a few days since I’ve last seen you.”   “I...I believe so.”   The low hum from his throat rumbles the air. “And how was the wedding?”   “Simple, but more than I could ever ask for. Thank you, my lord. Without your kindness, I wouldn’t have been able to wed to anyone and my poor father would become sick with worry. I am eternally in debt to you.”   “Fear not.” His hand extends, signifying you to take a seat on the bed. “After this, you won’t be.”   Lord Min is a dignified man. His eyes and hair are dark, gaze always intense and overwhelming any time they’ve been pinpointed on you. Yet, despite his intimidating demeanor, his features are rather soft and gentle. His soothing voice and carefully chosen words are all the more inviting.   He wears a woolen tunic made from luxurious materials, embroidered around the hem and sleeves as well as belted at the waist. His leather boots clank with every step that he takes and his black cloak swishes in the air, fastened on by his shoulder with an expensive brooch.   You feel unworthy being in his presence.   “You can go ahead and strip.” He motions to you.   The word slips out unintentionally. “A-already?”   A soft smile spreads across his face. “Well, we can wait a little longer if you’d like.”   “N-no, I’ll do it now.” You swallow hard, hands twisting to your back and undoing the knots of your apron. The cloth flutters to the ground and you strip of your overtunic all the while he stares at you intently. Sweat builds at your forehead and you untie the string around your waist, slipping out of your leather shoes and pulling your woolen stockings off. Your legs are bare for his eyes and you slip the tunic from your gown, letting the pile of clothes build at your feet.   You close in on yourself, arms covering your exposed skin and you downcast your head. “D-do I take off this?” A linen smock is left, the basic undergarment clinging to your skin and covering whatever decency you have left.   A puff of air coming from his lips is audible and when you look upwards, he’s smiling. “It’s alright. You can keep it on if you’d like.”   You nod, sitting back down and he takes off his own cloak, throwing it onto a chair in the corner. He approaches, boots clanking against the floors and sits next to you. The bed dips and he eyes you up and down. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”   “I-I’m not. I’m just….not used to this, that’s all.”   “You’ll get used to it soon,” he reassures in a smoothing timbre. “Tell me if anything is unpleasant. I do not desire to take anyone unwillingly.”   Your head nods again. “Yes, my lord.” He is courteous and merciful. You’ve heard of other lords and nobles who would throw peasant women on their beds and pounce on top of them without warning. But Yoongi is gentle, cautious, and it’s more than you could ask for.   “I have no plans in harming you. I want this to be enjoyable for you as well.”   “Lord Min, there is no need to consider my own enjoyment.” Your head naturally lowers. “I am already indebted to you.”   “Nonsense. I’d actually like if it I use this chance to teach you.”   You blink in confusion, lashes fluttering several times. “Teach...me?”   The man hums in affirmation, sound rumbling in his chest. “But I can only do so if you tell me what you’ve done before. I need to know in order to judge how far I’ll be able to push you.”   “I...I haven’t done anything before.” You twiddle your thumbs, revealing the truth with heated skin.   Yet, Yoongi is undeterred by your shyness. “Has that young lad ever kissed you?”   “Umm….”   “Now’s not a time to be shy,” Lord Min coaxes, placing a comforting hand over yours in your lap. For a second, you jolt, but then you relax, still getting used to his touch.   You meekly nod, murmuring, “Jungkook’s kissed me before.”   “Did he use his tongue?”   “A...a little.” It’s hard to admit and you shuffle uncomfortably. If your father knew you did such a shameful thing before marriage, he would be devastated. But at this moment, Yoongi’s intense gaze holds no judgment.   “Then did he kiss you here?” His hand lifts, finger gently skimming against your skin, lightly poking at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You flinch slightly before nodding.   “O-once.”   Lord Min’s fingertip traces down to your collarbone. “Down here?”   “Y-yes.”   His tone is low, dropping in pitch. “Did he leave a mark?”   “N-no!” Your eyes are wide and in alarm. “He didn’t!”   The older man grins and he retracts his arm. “There’s nothing wrong if he did. You don’t have to be so afraid. I won’t tell anyone. I’m doing this to know how much you’ve been touched before.”   Despite feeling like a rabbit in front of a wolf, that you’re about to be devoured alive, you trust him. His calming presence unwinds the tension in your mind. “H-he didn’t kiss me any lower.”   “Okay.” His hand falls to your knee and then he pinches the fabric of your white cotton undergarment, pulling it up slightly. He gently touches against your lower thigh and the heat of his own flesh causes goosebumps to rise all over your arms. “Then has his hand ever touched you in this place before?”   You nod.   “Use your words,” he commands, “I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.”   “Y-yes. He’s touched me there before.”   “How about here?” Lord Min’s slips his hand higher, calloused fingers tracing circles on your upper thigh.   Your breath hitches in your throat and he gives the smallest smile at your reaction. “Y-yes.”   His hand fully disappears up your dress like he’s coping a feel in the middle of dinner. He spreads your legs, tapping against the apex of your thighs. “Here?”   “Yes, my lord.”   “And here?” He thumbs the top of your slit and you flinch at the feeling.   “N-no.”   “Hmmm….” He assesses you closely before drawing his hand back. You release your held breath, not wanting to admit that you miss it. It felt nice when he was touching you, more than nice, and ached that his fingers didn’t just graze you, but touched harder. You’d welcome it.   Lord Min raises his hand, lightly cupping your breasts over-top of the thin dress. “How about here?”   “Y-yes, but it was a little different,” you choke out.   “Different how? Show me. I need to know how much you know.”   “W-well, he moved his thumb back and forth right here.” You show him as best as you can. His hand is larger than your own and he relaxes his muscles, allowing you to mold it against your breast better. and Lord Min makes a sound of acknowledgment, knowing what you mean when you show him. He begins to move his thumb back and forth over your nipple, rubbing like it’s a sore spot he’s trying to relieve.   “Like this?”   “Uh-huh.” You hold yourself back while keening into his touch. Your nipple pebbles, sticking out from your thin gown in an unsightly way, revealing the soft pink hue past the white cotton. You hold back a moan, suffocating it into a desperate whimper.   “Does it feel good?” His voice is hoarse, dropping down into a whisper. He’s right next to your ear, hot breath skimming over your flesh and panting like he’s the one being pleasured.   “Y-yes.”   “Then don’t hold yourself back. I like the noises you’re making.”   “Yes!”   His hands immediately halt. “Yes what?”   “Yes, my lord.” The last word ends in a squeal as he begins to rub again and harsher this time like he’s playing and wondering just how hard your nipple can get, how much it can stick out.   “Very good, flower,” Lord Min praises with a sweet smile. The wetness pools between your thighs, making a mess on the bed sheets and staining them. His dark eyes lock into yours, making you feel shy when he’s drinking up your expression, lids drooping halfway and you fall into his touch.   You ache to be touched elsewhere, in places you don’t know yourself.   And much to your dismay, he pulls away. “Let me show you something else.”   Your lord stands and pulls his trousers down, underpants coming along with it. You tear your head in another direction and he laughs. “You can look if you’d like. I promise nothing will hurt you.”   Slowly, you turn back and your eyes stray downwards to what’s sticking straight out from his lap. It’s reddened in colour, slightly curved and leaking some sort of substance from the tip. He sits down again beside you and doubt fills every crevice of your mind. You’re unsure of the next step. You’ve merely heard of things from friends and you’re not sure if they’re entirely accurate.   The last thing you want is to make a fool out of yourself. “W-what am I supposed to do with it?”   Lord Min grins and lolls his head to the side. “It’s supposed to go inside of you.”   “This is supposed to go inside of me? H-how?”   “Right here.” He parts your thighs again, moving to where your dress has been shoved up. His finger grazes against your weeping slit and you shiver. “See? You’re already wet.” As if to show you, he raises his arm and you see the thickened substance between his fingertips, thin lines connecting between them.   “W-will it hurt?”   “Not if you listen to me.” He stares at you, quietly chuckling when you swallow hard again. “It won’t bite. You can touch it.”   “L-Like this?” Your hand reaches out, loosely wrapping around his cock, not sure if you’re doing it right. But he reassures you when he puts his hand over yours and guides you correctly. It’s warm to the touch and looks larger than you thought with your smaller hand on it. Your eyes flicker up to him and you give a squeeze.   He knocks his head back, groan coming from his chest and ringing pleasantly in your ears. “N-not so hard.”   “S-sorry.” Lord Min helps you move your hand up and down his cock and as it picks up speed, you oddly feel his cock harden underneath your grasps. You work hard to satisfy him, sweat sticking to your skin and face heated like a furnace. It’s uncomfortable in your thin linen dress and you’re not sure if you can get up anymore — you’ve soiled the bed sheets you’re sitting on.   “G-god…” He groans in his throat and it makes you clench. Lord Min is panting heavily and after ten more seconds, he peels your hand off of him. “You...can stop…”   You frown at the white stickiness clinging to your fingers. “What is this?”   “Taste it,” he urges with half-lidded eyes, watching, and you’re hesitant as you bring your fingers to your lips. Your tongue peeks out to lick at it before it enters your mouth fully and you suck it all up, making sure not to create a bigger mess than you already have.   You frown. “It’s bitter…”   “Indeed.” He laughs as if finding you cute. “It’s not scary up close, is it?”   “Not really,” you admit, looking at his cock again and feeling less apprehensive.   He hums. “Lay back. I’ll stretch you nice and wide for your husband tomorrow, hmm?”   You comply, feeling less nervous now that you know what’s happening. The soft petting has gotten you used to his touching as well. Laying on the soft mattress, you put your arms on top of your stomach, waiting patiently. The lord takes off his boots, ridding of his clothes except for his undershirt and he comes over, kneeling on the bed above your legs.   He gently pulls your dress up, pinching the fabric and peeking underneath it like he isn’t allowed to. Embarrassment eats you alive, but you let him have his way. “I’ll use you real well,” he whispers. “That way Jungkook won’t have to stuff himself so hard in you tomorrow morning, alright?”   “O-okay.”   “Look at that,” Lord Min, or rather, Yoongi murmurs. His fingers gradually travel up your thigh and he pulls your legs apart until his thumb collects the wetness at your slit. The light touch already has you squirming. “So sensitive and wet. I bet you’re warm and tight inside too.”   He slips his finger into your clenching hole and your head knocks back, a deep breath releasing from your lungs. It’s a strange sensation you aren’t used to and Yoongi watches your expression, every frown and twitch of your mouth. When you’ve settled, he locks his eyes into yours and he curls his fingers.   Your eyes shut tight and an obscene moan comes tumbling from your lips. “M-my lord!”   He gives his wrist a twist before curling his finger again and he hits a spot that has you dissolving against the bed sheets. “Think you can handle another one? We’re going to need to loosen you more if I’m to deflower you.”   Your own hand comes down, circling around his wrist, not to get him to pull him away but to bring him closer. At the exact same moment, he pushes another thick finger in, making scissoring motions that has you whimpering. Your brows knit tightly together and pleasure pulsates throughout your body.   It intensifies as he brings his other hand down below your dress and touches another spot you’re rather familiar with. It has you crying out desperately, calling out his name at a shrill volume.   “I wonder what your husband would think if he saw you now. Being a whore for some other man,” he mutters, leaning down against your ear. “I should’ve brought him along to watch. Bet he wouldn’t be too happy now would he?”   “M-my lord…” You’re hyperventilating, dizzy as he curls his fingers again and rubs circles on your clit at the same time. There’s a tug in your lower stomach and you’re so close, to what you’re not even sure of.   “But I’m doing him a courteous favour. He should be bowing down to thank me. I’ll make sure his innocent, little wife is nice and loose for him. He’d be able to stuff his cock in you without needing to prepare anything. Isn’t that nice?”   “Y-yes!” Your head is digging back against the pillows and he shoves your legs open again with a rough hand when they threaten to close. “T-thank you, my lord.”   Yoongi keeps going, faster, and you shamelessly grind yourself against his palm. With one more curl of his digits and hard rub on your clit, it has you sobbing out his name. Your toes curl and euphoria washes over you. You all your senses for a moment, overwhelmed with gratitude and brought to the brink of tears.   But there’s no time to recover when he’s removed himself from under you and goes up to violently pull down the top of your dress. The thin fabric tears, sound of ripping filling the room and your breasts are exposed for his viewing. Your nipples are pink and hardened, perky in the air and he smiles in satisfaction. He wipes his fingers soiled in your release on your nipples like it’s a napkin. Then he grabs your breast, squeezing until it hurts. Though it isn’t necessarily painful.   The head of his leaking cock brushes against your slit and you squirm back with a whine.   “Such a pretty thing,” he muses to himself and plays with your breast like it’s a toy. “Can’t wait to ruin you.”   The man’s eyes trace over your breasts and travel to your face where you’re biting down on your reddened lips. Your eyes are watery, a stray tear on your cheek and you feel warm inside and out. He savours your fucked out expression and purposefully nudges his cock against your slit again.   “Aren’t you glad it’s me and not some old fart? Imagine if it were my father who was still lord of the land and not me. Had it been that disgusting bastard, he probably would’ve bent you over the dinner table with my mother in front of you trying to eat her meal.”   His hands move down to your abdomen to your stomach and he presses down on the soft flesh. “He probably would’ve left behind a child in your womb too. I’m so much nicer, aren’t I?”   “Y-yes. T-thank you, my lord.”   “I could’ve taken you anywhere.” He plays with your lips, fiddling with the velvet flesh with an impassive expression. Then his thumb forces your mouth to part and he presses down on your tongue, letting you taste whatever’s left of yourself on his hand. “In the bathhouse or on the floor or rather yet, outside on the field.” A smirk paints on his lips and the kindness you’ve witnessed from Yoongi so far is replaced with some kind of hidden cruelty. “Could you imagine being spread like this in the farmland in front of your father?”   “N-no,” you mumble and saliva coats your lips as he removes his thumb.   “But instead I chose a nice, warm bedroom and a nice soft bed for you….” The usually level-headed man is losing his composure, becoming eager as he pants. Sweat clings to his forehead, strands of hair sticking to his skin and you wonder what you did to deserve such a godly sight hovering above you.   “T-Thank you, my lord.” You gasp when you feel the head of his cock grazing against your clenching hole yet another time. “I-I’m grateful.”   “You should tell your husband that.”   “I...I will.”   He smiles and it is less gracious and more from satisfaction with your compliance. There’s a dark glimmer in his eyes that makes your blood run quicker. “Don’t tense up.”   You nod, trying your best as he guides the head of his cock to intrude past your walls. But the stretch is too great and it makes you cry, writhing back. He sighs and leans forward, capturing your lips with his as a method of distraction.   Yoongi kisses you with his small lips, taking your mouth like it belongs to him. He is harsh and intruding, pushing his hot tongue inside your mouth and tasting you selfishly. The passion makes your blood run even faster than before and you get lost, easing into his taste.   You’ve never kissed anyone other than Jungkook before and it’s exhilarating.   As he continues to devour your lips, you feel something and you groan. He hums back in acknowledgment and continues, pushing the head of his cock into your cunt slowly. It burns, but at the same time you feel filled up as if it was an empty gap that you never knew needed filling.   Yoongi shoves your legs even farther apart and he enters deeper. You gasp and he exhales, situating himself in you all the way and taking you for himself. It’s warm and wet and he finally pulls his mouth off of yours.   “H-how’s that?”   “T-thank you, my lord.”   “You’re so tight.” He moves his hips and when you flinch, he stills himself with a smile. “You’re so sensitive too.” He flicks your nipple with his fingertip and gives you a moment, pressing his body against yours so your hips meet each other. You release a deep breath to relax yourself.   “Are you sure Jungkook has not deflowered you before?”   “N-no, he hasn’t.”   “What a shame,” he mutters and with one hand, he comes up to push your cheeks together so your lips pucker. He uses his grip on you to shift your face to the left and right as if he’s picking out fresh fruit at the market. He stares closely at you and hums deep in his chest. “You’re quite the beauty, aren’t you? If only you were born of noble blood, I’d be the one to wed to you instead. You’d live in this house and I’d fill you with my children.”   He releases your face and begins to move, unable to stop himself, all composure lost. Yoongi withdraws from your body and then crames himself back in, groaning as he claims you selfishly. “G-get you nice and pregnant. You’d always be carrying.”   “Y-Yoongi.” His first name slips out, but he doesn’t pay any mind to it. It hurts, but the pain is overcome by pleasure. Your wetness dribbles down his thick length and onto the bed sheets, making a small pool and accompanying the tiniest bit of blood staining the expensive material. It’s hot, atmosphere vibrating around you and you sweat as he fills you up.   “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls, exposing your neck and making you cry out. You clench as he hits a particular spot and he grunts, increasing the harshness of his blows and picking up speed like he’s chasing after something.   “Y-yes. P-please give me your children. It would be an honour.”   A cold chuckle squeezes out of his lungs. “I wonder what your little husband would think of that, if he could see you now. You’d really want to have my child and not his? Huh?! Is that what you want, whore?”   “Y-yes!”   The corner of his mouth quirks into an arrogant smirk. “What would he think? Raising a child that isn’t his.”   You grab onto his forearms, anchoring yourself down. “H-he doesn’t have to know!”   The lord of the land above you scoffs in indignation. “Such a whore.”   He takes you for his liking, lost in pleasure and having half a mind to bring down his hand and circle your clit. It wrings squeals and noises out of you, making you sob his name out like it’s a prayer and you’re begging for forgiveness.   He presses against your nub, rubbing hard and he keeps moving. Yoongi bends your legs until your knees are meeting your chest and he’s hitting you at deeper angles. The obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin fill the room, escaping out the door cracks for the entire house to hear.   “You’ll visit your father, won’t you?” he asks out of nowhere and you don’t hear him well, mind broken in lust. “C-call you into my home and fuck you of my cum when you visit.”   “Pl-please.” Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he fucks himself into you.   “I shouldn’t have allowed you to marry. Should’ve put you in this house as m-my personal maid and use you all up.”   You’re sobbing, stray tears escaping from your shut eyes. “My lord!”   “But what makes you think I’ll want you again? You’re a dirty peasant and a whore. Walking in here thinking I’ll care for you and t-teach you? Please. You’re naive. Just have a bad habit of playing with my food before I eat it.”   You’re so close and he mouths at your neck, sucking hard and leaving bruises for Jungkook to see. You feel dirty and used, swollen cunt abused by his force and Yoongi grabs at your soft bits. He leaves blemishes in the shape of his fingers all over your thighs and waist. He happily makes his mark on you. “Drop you at his doorstep stuffed of my cum until it drips down your leg. Won’t be able to walk properly, huh?”   “Yes, please!”   You hold him close to you, skin sticky with sweat and the wetness between his cock and your hole drenching everything beneath you. He rubs at your clit one last time, twisting his wrist, and it’s enough for you to go over.   The moment you squeeze and clench, he releases himself. Yoongi’s spine straightens and he milks you with three thrusts. He cums, spurting it deep into you. He pants, chest rising and falling and once he’s done pleasuring himself, he pulls out.   You’re lying against the mattress, breathing heavily and trying to regain a sense of where you are. The dress you were wearing is in shreds, pushed underneath your breasts and before you can even make any attempts to cover yourself up, you wince as he takes his fingers and shoves the seeping cum back into your pussy. His fingertips trail down and he pushes it back in over and over again until he’s satisfied. Whatever’s left on his hand afterwards, he uses your thigh to wipe himself.   Yoongi gets off the bed.   You’re tired and exhausted. Night has fallen, the only luminescence from the oil lamp on the nightstand and the moonlight passing through the window. “A-are you leaving, my lord?”   Yoongi ignores you, taking his discarded trousers on the floor and pulling them on. He dresses himself in silence and once he’s finished, he runs a hand through his messy locks and turns over his shoulder. “You think I’ll lay in bed longer than I need to with a mere peasant?”   You’re taken back. “M-my lord…”   “You’re no use to me now and you’re no longer a peasant on this land.” His eyes are cold, skimming down your body and lingering on your used cunt. His cum dribbles down and his expression is a mix of disgust and disappointment. You try your best to clench, keep it all in to satisfy him. But he has no regard whatsoever and glances down at your discarded clothes.   “I expect you to be gone in the next hour or so. Don’t stay longer than you need to.”   “M-my lord.” You scramble upwards. “It...it is dark outside.”   “And? Your husband’s cottage is over the hill. Should take you less than three hours to make it there on foot. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind seeing you used like this anyways.”   Without any other glance or goodbyes, he waltzes out of the room and the doors shut. You rush to put on your clothes even when you’re struggling with your limping legs. You prepare yourself for the trek. And no sooner do you make it over the hill, showing up on Jungkook’s doorstep with Yoongi’s cum still dripping down your leg.

*IMPORTANT WRITER NOTES*

HAPPY APRIL FOOLS DAY!!!!!!

↳ it’s April 1st, 2019 for those who are reading on a later date.

You’ve been bamboozled. I’m not quitting sfw writing, don’t worry. I’m not going to do pwp ever again lol. This is my one and only porn without plot in the entirety of my writing life. I hope it wasn’t too atrocious. I’ve actually had this concept for a looong time and didn’t know what to do with it, but took the leap and tried it out and it’s not half bad, I guess. Still, I don’t think pwp is my forte. It’s not really my thing.

If you’re still reading this far, thank you. As a reward, you get the next Jungle Park chapter early. I secretly posted Chapter 12 on my ao3 account. Click here.

Stories will resume normally on Friday.

[seasonofthegeek]

History Repeats: Nino and Jude

This is the piece I did for the awesome Nino Zine that was just released and falls in the History Repeats Universe. :)

History Repeats: Alya and Jude

History Repeats: Alya and Nino

History Repeats: Nino and Jude:

Discovering and supporting the fact that his teenage son was a superhero just like he’d been years before required a fine balance of being proud and terrified, but Nino thought he was handling it well for the most part. For example, he was currently only trying to hide every other wince and flinch as he watched Jude, or rather Luckbug, crash into the higher beams of the Eiffel Tower from his vantage point on the observation deck. 

“Maybe it’s time to call it a night, little dude,” he called. “You should give the nuts and bolts a rest. I think there’s been enough structural damage for one night.”

Luckbug dropped down to the deck with a grunt. “I’m not getting any better.”

“But you’re not getting any worse.”

“Gee, thanks, Dad. I’m so glad I asked you to come out here with me instead of Mom.”

Nino couldn’t help but grin as Jude dropped his transformation and sank down on the bench beside him. “If you think your mother would go easier on you, you’ve been living in a different house than me.”

“I’m telling her you said that.”

“I know who runs our house. She knows it and I know it.” Nino leaned back and stared out over the city. “So what’s really the problem?”

“I just suck,” Jude muttered. “I should hand the earrings over to someone else.”

“It didn’t seem like you were having trouble a few months ago when you were sneaking out and fighting dark magical beings from hell. And wasn’t it just a couple of weeks ago that there was a new segment showing you rocking in a hammock you’d made with your yoyo between the Arc de Triomphe?”

The teenager crossed his arms sullenly. “Yeah, well, I was a dumb kid and didn’t know what I was getting into. I’m just not cut out for this.”

Nino nodded sagely. “And this wouldn’t have anything to do with what happened to your friends when you made the wrong call in that fight against the Dark One last week?”

Jude sank down lower. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Okay.”

“And they’re fine now. The Cure fixed everything.”

“I know.”

“But yeah, I made a bad call and they got hurt and even though everyone is okay now, it’s not like anyone forgot.”

Nino glanced over at him. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”

Jude glared at his lap. “I don’t.”

The sounds of the city floated up to them from below and Nino let the silence between them simmer until he finally spoke. “I made a bad call once and got one of my teammates hurt. It was awful. I tried to give up my Miraculous that night.”

Interest flashed on Jude’s face and Nino knew he’d hooked him. He and Alya decided together to try to keep their hero stories to a minimum once the truth was out between all three of them but this seemed like a good time to take one out, brush it off, and give it a new audience. 

“So what happened?”

A memory of Chat Noir bloodied on the floor of Hawk Moth’s lair flashed in Nino’s mind and he frowned. “Well, you’re going to need a little backstory before I get to the main event. How much have you learned about Hawk Moth?” 

“Enough, I think. I know he was Uncle Adrien’s dad and you guys fought him. He had the Miraculous Everly uses now to create champions to help us when we need them.”

Nino nodded and took a moment to decide if he was going to keep going. It wasn’t his secret to share exactly but…

“What you probably don’t know is that Gabriel-- Hawk Moth,” he quickly amended, “is also Chat Noir’s dad.” He watched his son’s brow furrow in confusion and then he was looking at him with widening eyes. 

“Wait, Uncle Adrien was Chat Noir?”

“Yep.”

“And his dad was the bad guy?”

“Yep.”

Jude frowned. “So that would be like me fighting you.”

“If I was an egotistical tyrant, sure,” Nino shrugged, trying not to let it show how much the thought of them being pitted against each other bothered him. “Gabriel is not a good man. He never has been as far as I can tell but I’m on the outside looking in.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means that Adrien still has trouble talking about him and everything that happened because he still can’t see his father as just a villain like we all did. He was still his father.”

“Is that why he got hurt?” Jude prompted.

For a moment, Nino had forgotten what took them on this path of conversation and he had to regather his thoughts. It’d been over a decade and closer to two now, but it was still uncomfortable to recall. They’d all been so young...like his son was now.

He took in a deep breath. “Ladybug had a bad feeling about Chat Noir missing a meeting and a patrol and didn’t know how to get in contact with him, but she knew I did. Adrien and I found out about each other early on. At that time, only Ladybug’s identity was a secret from the rest of us and to her, the only secret identity was Chat’s.” He saw Jude trying to keep up and decided to cut the rest of the identity reveal gymnastics out of the story for the most part.

“I tried to get in contact with Adrien out of the mask first,” he continued. “I even went to his house but no one would let me in. I transformed and tried to get in his room but the house was shut up tight. Adrien always left his window unlocked for any of us to get in or him to get out so that was the first tip off that something was wrong.”

Nino shook his head. “The thing about being a hero...the thing about life in general, really, is that when you get to look back, it’s much clearer what the better decision was to make, but when you’re right in the middle of it, you don’t always know the right thing to do. Does that make sense?”

“That’s how I feel about last week,” Jude replied quietly. “Now that I’ve been able to think about it, I know I made a bad call but I really did think I was doing the best thing at the time. But I’m supposed to be the team leader. I can’t make bad calls and realize later that I should’ve done something different!” His voice rose with every word and then he stood and paced in front of the bench. “Camille was almost killed because I got cocky and thought I could take out the Dark One on my own.”

“Juju, come sit back down.” Nino patted the space beside him. His son let out a frustrated growl and threw himself back down to the bench with a huff. “You’re so much like your mom.”

“Dad.”

“Right. Back to my story.” Nino tried to smile but it felt too small on his face, too forced. “I found a way into the house through the roof and that’s when I found Gabriel. He was talking to Chat Noir, pleading with him, and I knew he knew about Adrien.” The memory resurfaced in hazy detail and he could almost feel the sickening flutter of butterfly wings against his skin. “I caught them both off guard and Gabriel transformed and immediately tried to take me out. I didn’t realize he’d akumatized his assistant and driver to keep guard in the house and they came after me too.”

Jude was sitting straighter now, investment in the story plain on his face. “What happened?”

“Chat and I fought them.” He was surprised to feel the lump forming in his throat; it’d all been so long ago. “Hawk Moth was determined to kill me, I think. He was at the end of his rope. The akumas kept Chat busy while he and I fought and he got in a few good blows.” Nino lifted his chin and traced the thin scar along his jaw left from the rapier from Hawk Moth’s cane. “I really did think I was going to die that day. I remember looking over and seeing Chat running towards us and thinking I should’ve told the others, I should’ve waited for more help. We were going to lose our Miraculous, maybe even die, and it was my fault”

“Yeah, but Ladybug is the one who sent you to go find him,” Jude argued. “It’s her fault you were there in the first place.”

“She was doing what she thought was best in sending me. As soon as I found Chat, I could’ve called for backup but I didn’t because I thought I could help on my own. We all made our decisions.”

“Still, she was the team leader and...and…” The younger man trailed off helplessly. “It falls back on her.”

Nino considered that and decided to take a different approach. “Did you know that I was offered the position to become Guardian of the Miraculous?”

Jude’s attention sharpened once more as he looked at his father. “Kagami is the Guardian.”

“And she’s a good one; I’m the one who endorsed her for the position. She’s an excellent judge of character, though we’ve had a few words since I found out about you.”

“So if you’d been in charge, I wouldn’t have my Miraculous. Is that what you’re saying?” Jude was falling back into sullenness. 

At the beginning of the conversation, he’d wanted to give back the earrings and now he was mad at the thought of not having them. Nino had to resist the temptation to roll his eyes. Being the adult was tedious at times. 

“I passed on the responsibility because your mom and I were going to have you and we wanted to keep you safe. We gave up Wayzz and Trixx for our family because it was the right call to make and looking back, I don’t regret it.”

“Good to know I’m not a regret.”

“You’re not listening, Jude.”

His son crossed his arms and Nino sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that you never know if you’re making the right decision in the moment. You have to take the information you have and make a call and sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean you give up.” His words hung in the air between them and Nino spotted Tikki peeking out from Jude’s jacket to give him a fond look. 

“So you’re really just saying to try my best.” Jude smirked at his father. “How very after school special of you, Dad.”

“For a sweet kid, you’re such a little punk sometimes.”

 “And who do you think I get that from, dude?”

[unforgetabelle]

FINALLY I’m getting around to editing and posting some of the stuff I’ve been working on over the last ehhh...year? (This one was started in Nov 2017 as my doc reminded me. eekk -_-)

Anywhoo, it’s a continuation of my series of stand alone stories that fit together (Coming Around Again), so I hope you enjoy!

____________________________________________

A New Start

ao3  |  fanfiction

Marinette stared down in disbelief, struck motionless by the object in her hand. Something meaningless turned precious in the blink of an eye. She almost hadn’t bought it, thinking she was just stressed...crazy...imagining things. It seemed wasteful. A waste of plastic. Was it even recyclable? She didn’t even know! Clearly she was not ready for this responsibility. Was it too soon? She didn’t feel prepared. What if she was horrible at it?

Her mind started to spiral and her knees gave out. She caught herself on the edge of the bathtub and sat there. Setting the pregnancy test on the closed toilet seat, she closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing. Then she imagined his face. 

Adrien when she tells him the news, shock morphing into exuberance as he picks her up and swings her in a circle...Adrien singing in his horribly off-tune voice to her growing stomach...Adrien disheveled from lack of sleep, rocking a baby in a sunny-yellow nursery...Adrien zooming a spoon like an airplane into the giggling mouth of a baby, pureed carrots somehow smeared across his smiling face...Adrien effortlessly braiding their daughter’s hair on her first day of school, the two singing along for the millionth time to a child’s song...Adrien shouting on the sidelines of her soccer game, pride in his eyes as she falls but gets right back up again… Adrien shopping for prom dresses with the keen eye of a fashion mogul’s son and spending an obscene amount of money on the one that is just perfect...Adrien clapping and cheering louder than anyone could imagine as she walks across the stage and accepts her university diploma...Adrien, gray and distinguished, walking their daughter down the aisle, tears in his eyes as his lips linger lovingly on her forehead before giving her away…

She opened her eyes and looked back down at the stick, her hands coming to rest on her still-flat abdomen and her breathing normalizing again. She may not know if she could handle this, but together, they could. 

“Marinette?” She looked up to see Tikki’s head peeking through the bathroom door. Her eyes immediately on her chosen’s face, trying to decipher the riot of emotions there, until Tikki’s gaze fell to the test in front of her and tears spring to her eyes.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked again, her tone irrevocably changed as she regarded her girl with shining eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Tikki,” Marinette said out loud for the first time, her voice shaky with disbelief but lips turning into a hesitant smile. She watched through a watery gaze herself as Tikki pummeled into her face, the two laughing joyously at the wonderful news.

Tikki floated back, her face glowing with excitement as she bobbed in the air.

“You’re going to be a marvelous mother, Marinette.”

“You really think so?” Marinette let her insecurity infuse her tone, looking at her friend with a worried gaze. 

“Of course! Is that what you’ve been doing in here so long? Quietly panicking?” Tikki fixed her with her all-knowing gaze and Marinette just grimaced in response. Her kwami rolled her eyes, affectionately tugging a strand of Marinette’s hair.

“Okay, up, up! We need to go tell Adrien!”

“What, now?” Marinette laughed, her own excitement building at Tikki’s response. “He’s on patrol,” she reminded her friend, remembering Adrien’s strict orders to stay home and rest when she mentioned feeling a bit queasy earlier that night. 

“So, find him,” Tikki emphasized her words. “Let him tell you what an amazing mother you will be instead of silently stewing here in a pot of irrational fears.”

“I’m not stewing,” Marinette muttered, letting Tikki pull her out into the living room. Her kwami just gave her a sarcastic look and Marinette sighed.

“Okay, okay, fine. You win,” she acquiesced and Tikki smiled triumphantly. “Tikki, spots on!”

Sparing a moment to glance out their back window--to make sure no one had decided today to start taking in the sights of the back alley--Ladybug  confirmed the the coast was clear before lassoing the chimney of the adjacent building and pulling herself up to roof. She broke out into a sprint immediately. Even all these years later, there was nothing quite like the feeling of running full-speed across the rooftops of her city. Feet light and wind in her hair, she craved the burn in her muscles as she pushed them to their enhanced, miraculous limit.

She wondered how this would change. She knew enough to not think that she would have to stop her patrols completely. Exercise wouldn’t affect the baby, although the citizens of Paris might be shocked to see a pregnant Ladybug swinging along the Parisian cityscape. She’d have to back off from any dangerous situations for a while, but Chat was more than capable of handling akuma victims, and she could be close by to cleanse them. Maybe Fu even had some ideas about what to do. This couldn’t be the first time a miraculous holder needed to take a brief hiatus. 

Except, it wouldn’t exactly be brief. Newborns took a lot of time and effort too, and it wasn’t like they could call a babysitter every time an akuma appeared. Not only would that look suspicious, but the pesky butterflies had a habit of picking the most inconvenient times to appear. Maybe if they lived closer to her parents…

Ladybug mind was still negotiating internally with herself when the din finally reached her; the unmistakable sound of a battle far too familiar to her ears. She ran faster, reaching the clearing and spotting Chat in no time, but this was different from any battle she’d seen before.

The streets were clear on the late summer night, no civilians even hovering at the edge of the fight to watch, and when Marinette finally recognized Chat’s opponent, she understood why. He wasn’t battling just another akuma. He was battling Hawkmoth himself, and as she watched him block his assailant’s parries, always on the defensive, Ladybug realized something worse.

Chat was losing.

~*~

Chat could concentrate on nothing other than the adrenaline that coursed through his entire body and he cursed himself for allowing the whim of nostalgia that brought him to this moment. With Marinette ill, and him patrolling along for the first time in recent memory, Chat found himself tracing an old familiar route from his first years as Chat, which inevitably took him by his childhood home. It had been four years since he’d seen his father last. After their falling out over his mother’s ring, Adrien never saw Gabriel again. He received an unfeeling card every birthday, and Gabriel had sent a gift and note to the wedding, but other than in fashion magazines, his own father’s face had become a relic of the past. So, as he vaulted past the austere stone house, Chat couldn’t help but take a quick look.

Maybe it was curiosity or some lingering nostalgia for a time when the house had held some joy, but Chat found himself hopping the fence and taking in his old surroundings with the strange disjointed view of his older self. Approaching the house from a completely different angle than he ever had before, his gaze caught a flash of purple light from the rose window at the rear of the property. Strange, he thought, how you could live somewhere for so long and completely miss design elements. Chat must’ve noticed that window before, but he couldn’t conjure it up in his memory. He supposed he’d spent so many years trying to escape this place, he’d never really gotten to know his own home. 

Movement in the window caught his eye again, and Chat couldn’t help but give into his curiosity, scaling the large plane tree in the back yard until he had a clear view into the window.

What he saw there changed everything.

The man on the other side of the window stood in the center of the barren room, framed dramatically in the light of the moon through the ornately shaped glass. His eyes were immediately on Chat.

Whether it was the movement in the tree or his glowing green eyes that gave him away, Chat didn’t know, and he didn’t stay to find out, jumping from the tree and vaulting as far away as he possibly could. When he reached a small empty plaza on the edge of the arrondissement where he currently lived, he finally stopped, mind reeling with what his eyes just witnessed.

That’s where his father found him

Chat didn’t know how long he’d stood in that empty plaza, but when Hawkmoth appeared, he finally began to function again, the rage pouring through his body.

“How could you!” Chat spat, fists clenched and eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

Hawkmoth didn’t even flinch at the venom in his voice, though his eyebrow quirked in consideration, studying Chat like an interesting specimen.

“I suspected this years ago,” he intoned finally, hands resting casually together on his cane in front of him. “I thought I had disproved my theroy of you being Chat, but I should have known when I saw that ring on your finger. Apparently, my affection clouded my judgement.”

“Affection,” Chat repeated, rage giving way to pure disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

Hawkmoth sighed in exasperation.

“I’m not in the mood for one of your tantrums, son.”

“No,” Chat raised a hand, his mind finally clear. Resolve infusing in him as he regarded the man in front of him anew. This wasn’t his father. Not anymore. He’d made that choice long ago for both of them, and while it stung to know his father had been the antagonist of his entire life, it also filled him with pity. What must his father’s existence truly be like?

“No,” Chat repeated. “This isn’t about us. This is about your actions for the last decade, and it ends now.”

He took a step towards the man who was his father and held out his hand.

“Give me the miraculous, Gabriel.”

Hawkmoth’s eyes narrowed slightly as he appraised the man in front of him but made no move to surrender. 

“I did this for us,” he finally said, his voice taking on an unfamiliar soft tone, and Chat steeled his will against the explanation he knew would follow. “For our family. This was the only way to save us.”

“It’s too late--”

“To save your mother.”

Hawkmoth’s words stopped Chat’s next words, but he refused to let himself be taunted with the impossible. His father was clearly unwell. This man had unknowingly and then knowingly put his own child in direct danger of akumas for years, and now he expected that same son to believe it had all been for him? For their family? Chat just shook his head sadly.

“Maman is dead,” he replied.

“Not forever,” Hawkmoth finally took a step towards him, an unnatural gleam in his eye. “I just don’t have the power yet, but with your miraculous--” 

“Hawkmoth--”

“--and Ladybug’s, I’ll be able to perform the ritual--”

“Gabriel--”

“I’ve preserved her for years, planned for years--”

“Father!” Chat finally shouted, bringing his mad ramblings to an end. The shell of his father looked at him again, confusion coloring his expression when he didn’t find his own excitement reflected on his son’s face.

“Adrien, she’s not missing, that’s just what I told everyone. I can bring her back.”

“No,” Chat shook his head, voice strained as he pushed past the pain of the final confirmation that his mother was truly dead. “No, you can’t”

“I can.”

“You won’t,” Chat amended. “It’s not natural, and she wouldn’t have wanted it. I won’t allow it.”

“Allow it?” He hissed in return. Hawkmoth’s eyes morphed, tilting dangerously in a split second, and Chat finally realized just how broken his father had become.

“Give me your miraculous, father.”

“You think you can command me?” he laughed, shaking his head erratically. “You’ve always been an insolent--”

“Gabriel--”

“MY NAME IS HAWKMOTH,” he shouted with abandon. “And this ends now.”

[thewritewolf]

Rekindle Chapter 1: No Powers

Hello! In this story that I’ll be telling over the next month, Adrien and Marinette haven’t seen each other since graduation, which was several years ago. One chance meeting during an akuma battle has Adrien thinking about his old friend, but after everything that’s happened, he’s sure that she doesn’t want to see Adrien Agreste anytime soon... Chat Noir, however...

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30  31

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Ducking an errant beam, Adrien swung his baton into Mega Drain. Behind him, he heard it hit a car, killing the engine inside. “You feline up for a fight, metal head?”

The name was fitting since today’s akuma looked like a poorly put together metal robot slightly bigger than Adrien was, moving on treads. With how slowly it moved and how short its arms were, Adrien was feeling confident even though Ladybug hadn’t arrived yet. And why shouldn’t he? Nearly a decade of being Chat Noir had honed his reflexes and combat power to a fine point.

“CHAT NOIR WILL SUBMIT HIS MIRACULOUS TO MEGA DRAIN.”

Adrien winced at the volume. His enhanced senses could be both a blessing and a curse sometimes. “Tell you what.” He paused for dramatic effect. “No.”

That didn’t seem to be the right choice since Mega Drain began rapid firing beams at him. So far, he’d only seen it hit electronics, but every time they’d immediately shut down. That alone was enough reason for him to avoid getting hit, even if he wasn’t sure that he would actually be affected by the beams. If nothing else, Mega Drain seemed to think something would happen.

It wasn’t actually that hard to avoid the rays, but it stopped him from getting close to the akuma. Ah well. At least that means he’d get to see Ladybug, itself an increasingly rare event. He suspected that she was going to university, but who knows? He was just glad she hadn’t left Paris and given her miraculous to someone else. Despite all the rejections, he couldn’t bring himself to stop loving her.

A flash of black hair caught his attention. A sly greeting died on his lips when he realized it wasn’t Ladybug he’d seen but someone he hadn’t laid on eyes on in a couple years - Marinette Dupain-Cheng. His elation at seeing a childhood friend was matched only by the pang of sorrow he felt at what had happened the last time they’d seen each other. They tried to keep in touch, but after their talk on graduation day, life had gotten in the way of their friendship. It really was a shame. He missed having her in his life.

He ducked under another beam, but his wandering mind had made him less aware of his surroundings. The beam reflected off a metallic object and right back at him. He felt his strength leave his muscles and his limbs become more sluggish. Just as his senses deadened, he realized what had happened - the power his miraculous granted him had been drained- Oh. OH. That’s why he called himself Mega Drain.

Feeling almost as upset with himself taking that long to realize the meaning of his name as he was mad at getting hit, he ducked into an alleyway. All he had to do was shake off the akuma and he could - theoretically - detransform and recharge. He was thankful that Plagg was able to hold on and keep the Chat Noir suit on. Recharging was easy, but losing his secret identity would be irrecoverable.

His plan to escape wasn’t going well. Mega Drain was right behind him and the alley reached a dead end. Drawing his baton, he turned to face the akuma, locking his eyes on the single red lensed camera on the akuma’s face.

“YOUR MIRACULOUS IS MINE.” The akuma charged up his beam and Adrien tensed, ready to jump out of the way. He may not have superhuman reflexes, but he still had his training. He just had to wait for…

...A trash can to be shoved roughly onto its head from behind, apparently. Blinking in surprise, he looked past the flailing akuma to see Marinette motioning at him wildly. He took the opportunity for what it was and rushed over to her side, only for her to grab his arm and start running. They’d gotten a fair distance away before they heard a metallic roar. Marinette quickly unlocked the door to an office building and locked the door behind them.

Hands on her knees, she took a few deep breaths. “That… was a close one.”

“I’ll say.” Adrien took his tail in one hand and began idly twirling it. “What were you doing out during an akuma attack? You don’t strike me as the reporter type.”

She stood up straight, her breathing now under control. Adrien let himself be impressed - blindsiding akumas and making mad dashes through the streets can be exhausting. She’d kept herself in shape over the years. Crossing her arms, she glared up at him, “You’re welcome, you ungrateful cat.”

That got a laugh out of him. He didn’t remember her being so spunky, but then again, he knows why she was never herself around him, doesn’t he? “Sorry, sorry.” Bowing deeply, one arm held out, he added, “My deepest gratitude. Saving the feline in distress was very noble of you.” She snorted and rolled her eyes, but he pressed on. “And while I do very much appreciate what you’ve done so far, I have one more favor to ask.”

That got her curiosity. “And what’s that?”

“Go away.” He grinned at her shocked expression. His voice softened a little as he added, “Find somewhere safe to hide. I need to recharge and I can’t have you peeking at my secret identity. Besides, I’d feel better knowing such a kind civilian were out of harm’s way.”

She nodded and pointed behind him. “There are bathrooms over there that lock from the inside. I’m going to uh, sneak out the back way.” She started jogging away, and yelled back at him over her shoulder, “Good luck!”

He watched her go until she darted down a hallway. He knew there were more pressing things to be thinking about, but he felt a pang of remorse. Maybe if their last meeting hadn’t gone the way it did, they’d have worked harder to keep in touch. A warning beep sounded from his miraculous, shaking him out of his thoughts. No use dwelling on what might have been. He ran towards the bathrooms Marinette had pointed out, eager to recharge and get back in the fight.

-------------------------------

Adrien landed in his room with the sun setting behind him. It was a smaller space than his childhood home, but he had to make some concessions if he wanted to be living on his own. Father wouldn’t rent or let him rent his own mansion and Adrien wouldn’t want to even if he did. He’d had more than enough of large, empty spaces for one lifetime already. At least now the empty spaces were smaller.

“Claws in.”

Plagg emerged from the ring and crash landed on top of his private refrigerator. “Geez, kid. You’re overworking me here! And could you at least tryto not eyeball every pretty civilian you come across? Unless this is some weird way of moving on from Ladybug.”

Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose will Plagg opened up his fridge. “First off, I don’t oogle random people. That was Marinette. You know? We went to school together.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember Pigtails alright. Even if the name doesn't match anymore. Real awkward parting words at your graduation.”

His heart was heavy for a moment as he remembered her confession… and how he had to gently reject her. It was the last time they’d seen each other face to face, and he hated the hurt he’d seen in her eyes. But what else could he do? Which brought him to...

“Second - you know I can’t just move on from Ladybug. I’ve tried, you know it as well as I do, but…”

“Blah blah heart blah blah the pain of unrequited love. Yeah, you’ve mentioned it a few hundred times before.” He shoved a wedge of cheese in his mouth and talked around it. “At least you have something in common with Pigtails.”

“I guess we do,” Adrien replied in a sad whisper.

While they were never the closest of friends, Adrien keenly felt Marinette’s absence in his life. The energy she always had, the confidence she had not only in herself, but in everyone around her. Just being near her was usually enough to get people motivated - something she often took advantage of as class president. The certainty she had in what she wanted to be was something he could really use some of right now. He felt like his life was in a holding pattern, just working for his father while being groomed to take up the management portion of the Agreste business.

But what could he do? While they made a slight effort to keep in touch, he had no idea how she would react to seeing him again, face to face. Has she moved on from him? Did she come to resent him? Who knows? Somehow he doubted that she’d appreciate him showing up on her doorstep.

While watching Plagg do his absolute best to scarf down an entire wheel of camembert, a smile dawned on his face. While Adrien might not be met eagerly, who wouldn’t love a visit from the local superhero?

“Finish up quick, Plagg. We’re going out tonight.”

While his kwami complained, Adrien pulled up the discord channel the four of them had made to keep in touch. Wading through the conversations - mainly between Alya and Marinette - he eventually found what he was looking for: An address.

-----------------------------------

Half an hour later, Adrien landed on a balcony that he hoped was Marinette’s. He’d made a detour to buy some sweets to bring over. After all, it was rude to show up unannounced and empty handed.

The lights were on. He breathed a sigh of relief - that was a good sign. It had become painfully obvious to him that he didn’t know much about how her life was going now when he didn’t even know where she was working, let alone her hours. He peeked into the window to check if she was actually home.

The room seemed to be some combination of a work space and living room. There was a TV turned down as it played some show that she only glanced at occasionally. A familiar, old chaise, a couch and a couple armchairs, but there was also mannequins, reams of fabrics, and a table littered with pins, sketchbooks, and a sewing machine. Working at the sewing machine was Marinette herself, only occasionally glancing up at the TV from a jacket she was working on.

Satisfied that she was at least present, he tapped at the glass. Softly at first, but becoming more insistent when it became clear that she was too focused on her work to hear him. Even then it took her a few moments to realize just where the tapping was coming from. It was all worth it though when he saw how her eyes went wide at seeing him at the window. He grinned as she rushed over to the window.

“What are you doing here?! Do you realize how late it is?” She hissed at him. His smile faltered. This wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting.

“Well, I was in a rush earlier, so I couldn’t thank you properly for your help today.” Seeing her dubious expression, he pulled out the big guns and moved his basket of snacks in front of him. “I brought chocolate croissants?”

She glanced between the basket and him, torn. Just before she was about to speak, her stomach growled. Blushing, she opened the window wide and said, “Quick, get in before I change my mind.”

Adrien didn’t need to be told twice. Slipping inside, he took another look at the room around him, now using all his senses. It was messy, with several projects in various levels of completion scattered around the room. There were a few pictures on the walls, mostly of her and Alya, plus a few older ones from lycee and one from graduation. But nothing recent. His heightened smell backed him up - the only scent he could pick up was Marinette’s. Did she not get visitors?

“Sorry I haven’t cleaned up recently. I wasn’t expecting guests.” She rubbed one arm, embarrassed at the state of her apartment.

His cheeks heated up. It hadn’t been his intention to show up just to gawk at her living space. “No, no! Its fine.”

A few more moments of awkward silence passed. Why did he think this was a good idea again?

“Uh, Chat?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, eager for any conversation starter.

“The basket…?”

“Oh! Sorry, here you go.” The goodies changed hands and Marinette took a look at them, inhaling the scent of the baked goods with a blissful smile. While she was busy, he pressed on. “So… anyway. I wanted to say I really appreciated the help. It was very brave of you to get involved like that. That could very well have been the end of me as Chat Noir.”

She smirked as she looked back up at him. “Yeah, then Paris would have to get a new Chat Noir and a new Ladybug and it would just be a mess. I figured I might as well save us the trouble.”

“Well, a new Chat Noir definitely, but why would we need a new Ladybug? I’m sure she would have been fine handling Mega Drain on her own.” Which was true. A lot of the time he felt like he was more a bodyguard for Ladybug, or sometimes emotional support.

“Do you really think Ladybug would want to go on without you?” She raised an eyebrow and smiled at him, a smile that quickly vanished when he said:

“Yes, no question. It might be rough for her at first, but there’s no doubt in my mind she’d be able to move on.” He shrugged. “And who knows? Maybe the next one would be better at this than I am.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “But they wouldn’t be you.”

Laughing, he replied, “Yeah, that’s the point.”

Silence stretched between them again as Adrien stared at nothing in particular and Marinette fidgeted with the basket in her hands. Just as he was about to say his goodbyes, she spoke up.

“You know, you really shouldn’t have gotten this many. I don’t think I should eat them all on my own.”

“Oh?” That sounded like an invitation, but he didn’t want to make assumptions.

“Do you want to stick around? I could put a new movie on. It always helps me be productive.”

It was at this point that Adrien realized he hadn’t actually known what to expect when he came over here. But right now, spending time with a friend sounded much better than sitting at home alone.

“Sure, I think I can do that. So long as you don’t mind me commenting during the movie.”

Shaking her head with a smile, she said, “I should’ve guessed the famous Chat Noir is a movie talker.”

-----------------

One movie had turned into two, then three. Granted, they weren’t particularly long movies, but it was well past midnight by the time Adrien began making his way for his window escape. Despite how tired he felt, even now he was leaving reluctantly. He’d had a great time laughing and eating and talking, and he from how often he’d coaxed laughter out of Marinette, he thought she was enjoying herself too.

It made leaving feel bittersweet. A taste of the friendship he’d never gotten to have. And now he had to go back into his strict, regimented life as if he hadn’t just had the most fun in ages.

“Hey, Chat?”

“Yes, purrincess?” He grinned at her eye roll. The nickname had stuck while they were watching the Princess Bride, much to her feigned displeasure.

“I was just going to say… tonight was nice. If you wanted to come over more often, I’d appreciate the company.”

“You sure I wasn’t too distracting?”

“Are you kidding? I made more progress on my pieces today than I have in the last two days combined. Something about an empty space drains motivation, you know?”

Smiling back at her, he replied, “Yeah, I think I get what you mean. I’ll come visit again soon. I promise… purrincess.”

He leaped out of the window and made his way home, smiling all the while.