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ravennm84 · 3 years

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Doctor’s Note

We all know how Lila fakes having different diseases and medical problems, but what would happen if she actually got sick and her mother went to the school to drop off a doctor’s note and pick up Lila’s assignments? Want the answer? Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

Greta Rossi could admit that she was a bit of a workaholic. Being the secretary to the assistant ambassador of Italy, in a city that was constantly under attack by a magical terrorist, was not the easiest job in the world either. It took a lot of early mornings, late nights, and even some weekends to make sure everything was prepared for her boss. But that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t drop everything for her one and only daughter when she needed her.

Right now, for example, Lila was trapped in bed with a nasty case of strep throat. The poor girl had a fever, white pustules at the back of her throat, and could hardly stop coughing. It was only due to some very strong medicine that she was able to stop coughing long enough to pass out from exhaustion.

She had contacted her work to let them know she would be taking the week off, and the ambassador had been very understanding. Stressing that he knew how dedicated she was to her work and that it was good for her to take time off for her family. It was only after Lila was sound asleep that she made the phone call to her school, she wanted to make sure they knew why Lila was staying home and that she would be in later that afternoon to pick up her daughter’s assignments for the next week.

The principal, M. Damocles was his name, seemed very happy to have spoken to her and said that he would have her assignments waiting when she came to pick them up. Also, if she could bring the doctors’ notes with her, that would be very much appreciated.

Checking again that Lila was sound asleep, she left a note on her daughter’s bedside table that she was running some errands, would be home soon, and to text her if she needed anything.

Arriving at the school, she was surprised to see everything running so smoothly and that the reconstruction after the two month akuma attack had been gone so well. She was impressed that she couldn’t even tell the difference between the old and new parts of the building. But then, she wasn’t overly skilled with architecture or building construction, so that wasn’t a surprise to her.

A few knocks on the door and she entered M. Damocles office. She had only met the man a couple times, but he had seemed like a decent person. It was a shame that he had been akumatized for so long and she was curious about what had happened to cause him to be akumatized, but she wasn’t sure if it was proper to ask him.

“Mme. Rossi, good to see you. I understand that Lila has fallen ill?” He asked, spinning around to grab a blue folder behind his desk.

“Yes, the poor dear has strep throat and has been coughing nonstop for days.” Greta told him as she pulled the doctor’s note from her purse. “Here’s the note you requested, do you have her homework packet?”

Damocles looked over the note for a moment before nodding and looking at her expectantly. “Thank you, do you have her other doctor’s notes?”

Greta tilted her head in confusion. “Does she need more than one? It’s just strep throat, she should be back to school after next week.”

“No madam, this is all I need for her current leave from school. I was referring to the doctor’s notes for her tinnitus, arthritis, sprained wrist, and her lying disease. That last one especially, and any information you can give me on accommodating that one so we do not have a repeat of the incident last month.”

Nothing in the world could have kept her jaw from dropping. What he had just told her? “M. Damocles, everything you just said is completely false. Lila has no such ailments, and I don’t think there is such a thing as a lying disease, unless you are referring to pathological lying.”

The man blinked back at her a few times before raising one hand to rub his brow. “Oh my, Mme. Rossi, I believe you and I must have a long discussion about the things your daughter has been saying and doing since she started school here.”

Her legs were stiff as she lowered herself into a chair, a sick feeling growing in her stomach as M. Damocles pulled a different folder out from his desk.

~oOo~

Over two hours later, many truths had finally come out.

1) The school had never closed for months due to akumas.

2) When M. Damocles had been akumatized, it had been at night and did no damage to the school.

3) Greta was not the ambassador, but a secretary.

4) Lila did not suffer from any diseases.

5) They had been in Paris since Lila had started school, no globetrotting whatsoever.

6) She and her husband were not estranged, he had simply wanted to stay at his dream job in Venice and she would never force him to leave it for her temporary assignment here in Paris.

7) Lila’s grandmother was alive and had never owned or given Lila a foxtail necklace.

8) The phone number on file was Lila’s number, not Greta’s. And the email was supposed to be ‘.gov’ not ‘.com’.

Damocles had also called one of Lila’s classmates to his office, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. When the principal told Greta about the incident from the previous month, she was shocked. Then Marinette told them her side of the story; all the lies, the threats, and finally setting the poor girl up to be expelled. Greta had never been so angry with her daughter in her life. Sure, she had been a good little story teller and actress when she was little, but she never would have thought she could be so cruel.

By the end of her explanation, Marinette was practically in tears.

When she mentioned that Adrien Agreste also knew of Lila’s lies, he was called to the office as well. He was a little more reluctant to talk about what Lila had been saying, but Greta insisted that she wanted to know what her daughter had been doing since coming to school, so he told her. If she hadn’t been disgusted before, she definitely was now. Getting Adrien’s father’s employees in trouble, lying about being friends with Ladybug all while telling Greta that she was a useless hero, sexually harassing Adrien while the boy didn’t even realize that was what she was doing to him. She had become a Gabriel model without her permission, which meant that Lila had likely forged her signatures on the contracts, so she would need to contact M. Agreste to get that sorted out. One of the things that surprised her was hearing that Lila had been akumatized, not once or twice, but three times!

Not long after that, M. Damocles dismissed the children so he and Greta could finish speaking. He told her that, due to falsifying contact records and two months of truancy, Lila was likely to be expelled. Greta accepted this, knowing that she would have done the same thing in that man’s position. In fact, she already had a plan forming on how to thoroughly punish her deceitful daughter. And since Lila had basically been quarantined for the next week and a half, she knew exactly what to do.

First, she began the paperwork to have Lila pulled out of Francois Dupont, effective immediately and asked to go speak to Lila’s classmates. After hearing what her daughter had put Marinette through, she wanted to make sure everyone knew the truth. Damocles allowed this, first pulling Mme. Bustier from the class to alert her as to what was happening. The woman was appalled to hear what had happened but insisted that she had been in contact with her for months via email, to which Greta informed her that it was not her email, but one that Lila had likely set up to keep the school from contacting her. This shocked the teacher to the point where she heavily leaned against the wall and M. Damocles had to support her to keep from collapsing.

When Greta was finally permitted to address the class and debunk the lies that her daughter had been spewing, there had been a lot of shock and questions to follow. But when a girl named Alya began furiously typing on her phone to blow up at Lila, Greta stopped her.

“I’m going to ask that none of you contact Lila from now on.” Alya and the other students looked at her in surprise, but she continued before anyone could interrupt. “I have already begun putting her punishment into motion and know for a fact that it will not be something she will forget anytime soon. So I ask that you do not call, text, or email her. If she attempts to contact you, tell her that you are busy and can’t talk. If she attempts to invite you over or make plans for the future, tell her that you are unavailable or that you already have plans. If she makes any threats or rude remarks to anyone, please forward those messages to me, I will leave my number for you to do so. Do this so that I may move forward with her punishment without her suspecting that I have discovered the truth.”

Having finally had the wool lifted from their eyes, the students realized just how much attention Lila seemed to demand on a daily basis. So, by acting like they were too busy for her or not in the mood to talk, that will drive her crazy and be a nice bit of revenge for lying to them. The class agreed.

After that, Greta headed home to find that Lila was still asleep but beginning to wake up, if the coughing was any indicator. While still having the chance, she called up her husband back in Venice.

“Pronto.”

“Mio amor, how are you? How are things at the school?”

“Ah, mia bella, the school is wonderful, though I must admit, my urge to see you and Lila grows by the minute. When will you come to visit me?”

“Very soon, actually. I’m afraid that you and I need to have a talk about our daughter.” About thirty minutes and a lot of cursing later, Ciro Rossi was now completely up to date on the actions of their daughter.

“I wish to say that I cannot believe Lila would do such things, but I can’t help remembering that boy, Roberto, from two years ago.”

Yes, Greta remembered him well. He had been a very popular boy at Lila’s school; handsome, rich, from a very well connected family, and from what she understood, completely dedicated to his boyfriend. She hadn’t paid him much attention until Lila came home crying that Roberto had attempted to sexually assault her. Greta and Ciro had refused to let such a thing go unchecked and went to the police to report him. During the weeks to follow, Roberto was put through hell; bullied at school, he was beaten up a few times, his boyfriend broke up with him, and his name slandered all over Venice. They had believed what happened to the boy to be justified… until proof was provided that he was nowhere near Lila when she claimed to have been assaulted.

She suddenly recanted her story, saying that she must have been mistaken and someone that looked like Roberto assaulted her, but the damage had already been done. The boy and his family moved somewhere far away, and Greta and Ciro were forced to pay restitution to Roberto for ruining his name and reputation. Through her tears, Lila convinced them that it had been an honest mistake and that she hadn’t meant for any of that to happen. It wasn’t long after that, Greta received an offer to be the secretary for the assistant ambassador in Paris. Lila had begged her mother to go with her, claiming that her classmates were now bullying her for what happened to Roberto. Wanting to protect their daughter, they agreed.

Looking back on it now, and noticing the similarities between Roberto and Adrien, both Greta and Ciro were disappointed in themselves for not seeing the truth. Which likely was that Lila had tried to get close to Roberto for his money and connections, and when he turned her down, she lied about the assault to ruin his life, much like she had done to Marinette. And when it came out that she had lied about Roberto, her classmates had turned on her. So when she got the chance to start somewhere new, with people who didn’t know about her lies, she took it. Not caring if she harmed anyone at her new school while repeating old habits. But they were not about to let Lila do the same thing to Adrien or Marinette. Once Greta told her husband her plan, he was all for it and began preparing things on his end. By the time Lila was done being sick, her entire life would have turned upside down.

~oOo~

It took a lot more effort than Greta had expected to hide her intentions for the nine days it took for Lila to get over her case of strep throat, but she had been making good use of that time.

She had contacted Gabriel Agreste’s secretary and asked about any contracts that may have been signed. When she told her she hadn’t signed any contract and that her daughter would no longer be modelling, the woman had no choice but to accept this and inform M. Agreste of this development. The woman also informed Greta that such a breach of contract would result in Lila being blacklisted from the fashion industry. She agreed and promised that she would inform her daughter of this once she was better.

Greta then looked into Lila’s savings and trust fund, of which she had control of since Lila was still a minor. She drained the accounts to pay restitutions to Marinette for bullying and slander, Adrien for sexual harassment; and then sent the rest of it to Roberto, along with a message that she was now completely aware of the type of person her daughter was and would be adequately punished very soon.

And to keep too much suspicion off of her, Greta began mentioning to Lila how her father desperately wanted to see her after she got better, so after the doctor gave her a clean bill of health, they would be going to Venice to see him. Now that she was watching, Greta saw the twinge of uncertainty at the mention of Venice, but quickly covered it with false excitement for going back to visit her father.

As the day grew closer that they would be heading to Italy, Greta also noticed Lila glaring at her phone with utter malice. She might not have known what was going on if Lila’s classmate, Alya, wasn’t keeping her up-to-date on what Lila was telling them. Her daughter was attempting to tell the class that she was going to be going on a trip with a famous singer after she was better, but her classmates were doing as Greta asked and treating the lies as if they meant nothing. When she accused Marinette of calling her a liar while she was sick and couldn’t defend herself, the class stopped responding.

One message that was forwarded to Greta nearly had her abandoning her plan and confronting her daughter at that moment. It was a message that Lila had sent to Marinette, who had shared it with Alya, who then forwarded it to Greta. It read:

You fugly, no talent bitch! You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Those stupid sheep were eating up every single one of my lies before I got sick, and now they won’t even talk to me! Just you wait. When I get back to school, I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself. Maybe I’ll convince someone that you tried to kill me and they’ll kill you for me. Either way, you’re dead. And even if you show someone these messages, no one will believe you over me.

Greta forwarded the message to Ciro as well. He called her right away to discuss other accommodations that they would be making for Lila in the coming days. There was something seriously wrong with their daughter, and they refused to turn a blind eye to what was happening.

When the day finally came that Lila was better and they were heading to Venice, Greta instructed Lila not to pack her more expensive clothes as she would not want to lose them if their baggage got lost. What her daughter didn’t know was that Greta was planning on selling all of her designer clothes, jewelry, her electronics, and everything else to continue paying restitutions to Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto. And it wasn’t like she would need them soon, anyway.

The plane ride was a bit nerve racking for Greta, as she worried about giving something away and Lila figuring out her plan; but if she did, it didn’t show. When they landed at Venice Marco Polo Airport, she had to resist her sigh of relief. The plan was almost ready to be put in action.

When she saw Ciro waiting for them in his dress whites, her heart sped a bit more. The man was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she’d ever met, and was the love of her life. Being away from him for so long was difficult, but what else could they do? Her husband was a Capitano di Vascello of the Italian Navy and had worked very hard to get where he was. Although he was semi-retired now and no longer served on a ship, he had followed his dream and became the Vice Principal for the premier naval academy in Venice, Francesco Morosini Naval Military School.

He had gone to the school when he was younger and always claimed that it was the best experience he could have ever wished for. That being in that school saved his life. So when he continued into the navy to serve his country, he made it his goal to one day become the Principal of the school that saved him, so that he could do the same for other students. And now, they would be doing the same for Lila.

Greta and Ciro had thought of admitting Lila to Francesco Morosini when she came of age, but quickly realized that she was not the Navy type and did not want to force her into it. That choice was no longer Lila’s and she would be staying at the military school where it was Ciro’s job, not only as a father, but as an administrator of the school, to keep a close eye on any problem children.

Ciro embraced Greta and then Lila before taking their bags and walking them to his car. Lila was talking at length to her father about all her friends at school, all the happenings in Paris, and even mentioned her boyfriend, Adrien Agreste.

“You would like him, Papa. He’s a model, a gentleman, and his father is the designer, Gabriel Agreste. And he treats me like a princess!” Lila gushed as she showed her father a picture of Lila kissing the blonde boy’s cheek. Greta had seen that picture and had even asked Adrien about it while they had spoken in M. Damocles office. Lila had apparently kissed him without permission when she took that picture, and then sent it to every girl in Adrien’s contact list to make it seem like they were dating.

Ciro played along, asking questions about her classes, Adrien, the akuma situation that he had heard about over the news, and other things to keep Lila from growing suspicious. Sure enough, she prattled on through the entire car and ferry ride to Venice. Only seeming to look around questioning when they arrived at the Naval school, rather than their apartment.

“What are we doing here?” She asked, looking at her father in confusion.

The two parents dropped the act and glared at their daughter in disappointment and anger. “I’m surprised at you, young lady,” Greta started. “Did you really think you could keep lying to us? We. Know. Everything.”

They watched as her olive skin quickly paled. “What do you mean? I didn’t lie, I sw-”

“We know the school never closed,” Ciro interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument or interruption. “We know about you lying to your classmates and teachers about having disabilities and diseases. We know about you changing our contact information on your school records. We know about you bullying and sexually harassing your classmates. We know about the threats you’ve made to that one girl. We know that you’ve been akumatized multiple times. We know the truth about what you really did to Roberto two years ago! WE KNOW EVERYTHING!”

With every word he said, Lila seemed to inch away from her irate parents and shrink into herself. At the same time, they saw the rage and contemplation in her eyes. She was angry at being caught and was already trying to think of a way out of trouble. Not that they would give her a chance to even try.

“But I didn’t li-”

“Lie number one, Ladybug is a useless superhero that let your school get damaged and spent months trying to deakumatize your principal, which is why you were out of school for two months.” Greta interrupted that time, pinning her daughter with a glare that she usually reserved for idiot interns who screwed up important paperwork at the embassy. “I personally spoke to your principal and looked into Ladybug. The school never closed. Ladybug and Chat Noir have always defeated the akumas and restored the damage thanks to their abilities. And you told the school that you and I were off globetrotting to places like Achu.”

Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. She was just beginning to stammer out an excuse when her father spoke over her.

“Lie number two, a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been bullying you because she is jealous of your relationship with your boyfriend, Adrien Agreste. We have seen the texts that you have sent that girl, the most recent saying,” Ciro pulled out his phone to read off of the text “‘...I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself…’ Does that sound familiar to you?”

“I also personally spoke to Adrien after I spoke to Marinette, and found out that not only are you not his girlfriend, but you have been sexually harassing him! You even showed us proof in that picture you took where you kissed him!”

“But that’s not sexual harassment!” Lila shot back at them as her panic grew.

“Any unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature constitutes sexual harassment. Your mother and I memorized that when you accused Roberto of assault, which is another thing you lied about! And let me guess, you wanted to use that boy’s popularity and family connections for a leg-up, but he turned down your advances since he was gay. You didn’t take that rejection well, so you told us he assaulted you. Is that what happened?”

“How did you-” Lila interrupted herself that time by slapping her hand over her mouth, quickly realizing that she had confirmed what her father had just said.

“Well, congratulations young lady. You have earned a complete overhaul on your life.”

“What do you mean?” Lila didn’t want to know, but it seemed like she had no choice but to ask.

“Your modelling contract with Gabriel is done,” Greta told her, noticing her wince since they weren’t supposed to know about that either. “I spoke with his assistant and discovered that you forged my signatures on the contracts to let you model. They were kind enough not to pursue legal action against you, but they have asked that I inform you that you have been blacklisted from the fashion industry, so that career option is completely closed off to you.”

“Your mother educated your friends at school with the truth. They know about all your lies and have kept us apprised of what you have been saying, the rumors you have been attempting to spread about going on a trip with a random music star, and were kind enough to forward that threatening message you sent to that girl, Marinette. They are no longer interested in being your ‘sheep’.”

“Not that you will be returning to that school,” Greta continued. “Your truancy has made that impossible, even if we did want you to stay there to face the consequences of your actions. Which includes paying restitution to the people you’ve hurt.”

“Paying!” Ciro and Greta watched as Lila’s right eye began to twitch as she snapped at them.

“Yes, paying. I’ve already emptied out your savings and trust fund to pay back Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto for what you’ve done to them-”

“You can’t do that! That’s my money!” She screamed, stomping her foot at her mother like a five year old throwing a tantrum.

“Money that you earned illegally modelling after forging my signature. And you are a minor, I am well within my rights to take that money to pay for the damages you have incurred. I will also be selling your laptop, tablet, mobile phone, as well as the clothes and jewelry you left in Paris. Seeing as you won’t be needing them anymore.”

As she said this, Lila clutched her phone and hugged it against her chest. “How am I supposed to talk to anyone without my phone?”

“Pen and paper, and if you need to speak with your mother, there’s my office phone or the payphone in the barracks, where you will be staying.”

The girl’s eyes grew impossibly wide as she looked at her parents in a panic. They couldn’t mean…

Ciro smiled the smile that he used to greet the families whose children were in need of discipline. “Welcome to Francesco Morosini Naval Military School, where we strive to give children an education that will help them for their future and the world that waits for them.”

~oOo~

There had been a lot of begging, crying, and screaming after that as Lila did everything she could to try and change her parents’ minds. This was a total nightmare for her. Forced to wear a uniform she hated. Surrounded by students, teachers, and her father; all of whom knew that she was a liar. No one gave her the type of attention she craved, but everyone was giving her the overly watchful attention she despised. She couldn’t even enjoy becoming an akuma anymore, as she was far out of Hawkmoth’s reach.

Greta and Ciro had gone out to dinner afterwards in an attempt to de-stress, only to get a call an hour later that Lila had tried to steal a boat and run away from the school. She was put on a 24/7 watch after that, now required to wear a tracking monitor wherever she went and was on bathroom and floor cleaning duty for the foreseeable future.

When Greta returned to Paris, she went about doing exactly as she promised. She sold Lila’s electronics, clothes, and jewelry; only keeping a pair of plastic stud earrings that her grandmother had given her. She met with M. Damocles again to let him know that everything had been taken care of. She contacted the Dupain-Cheng family to let them know that Lila wouldn’t be bothering their daughter again. That was probably the most pleasant thing she did, as they were a lovely family and sent her off with a box of assorted scones, so yummy! When she had them send a box of goodies to her husband in Venice, he called her a few days later and begged her to send more whenever she could.

Lila absolutely hated seeing her father enjoy pastries from the bakery of her rival’s family. That, along with being forced to talk to a psychiatrist three times a week to make her admit that she was a liar and to figure out why she feels the need to lie. All while wearing a horrible uniform and actually having to clean. She was in her own personal hell. How she wished that she had never gotten sick.

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#lila salt #lila gets exposed #lila lies #lila karma #lila bashing #mlbjustice #miraculous ladybug #lila's parents #parenting done right

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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

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Guarding Your Heart (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Request: THE ENDING WAS PURRRRRFECT i'm gonna miss tfatws sm. I don't know if on the raft they allow inmates to be visited but let's imagine it: you visiting zemo for the first time since he was sent there, a little angst cuz you can't have skin-to-skin contact anymore but you two talk about some things and how life is going, if everything is okay 🥺🥺🥺 (by anonymous), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Inmate: Helmut Zemo. Accommodation: The Raft. Visitors: Generally prohibited. Exceptions: Maintaining a friendly relationship with an Avenger.

Words: 3,547

Warnings: angst, jail (is that a warning?), fluff, feels, my emotions, I didn’t use any pronouns!, TFATWS spoilers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Countless attempts from your side had been ignored. You were an average citizen. No superpower, no higher-up. Ordinary. It appeared that the Raft did not think highly of such people. Not when they proposed to visit an inmate. And definitely not when said inmate was the same Baron who broke out of a high security jail in Germany. But he was yours. His imprisonment in Europe had not been as restricted. For his sake, you had moved to the other end of the world. Simply so you could spend a bit of time together every day. Your old life had been completely abandoned. And for almost ten years, Germany had been your home. Until Sam & Bucky entered your lives once again. Though you started off on the wrong foot, this time around, you were more than grateful for their presence. Without them, especially without the former Winter Soldier, Helmut would still rot away in that tiny prison cell. Your time together had been adventurous. Often hazardous. Life threatening. In the end, you made it out alive. Coming back stronger than ever before.

It could have been a fairy tale. A long awaited fulfillment of a seemingly impossible dream. Were it not for the Wakandans crushing your reverie at the worst place imaginable. The Sokovian memorial. Where you held one of his clothed hands in both of yours. Shedding tears, remembering his old life. His wife. His son. You would never replace them. At the same time, you did not even intend to. His past was part of him & made him to the man you loved endlessly. Bucky did not receive your blame. Were you mad at him for handing Helmut over to the Wakandans? Absolutely. Then again, the super soldier was the reason why he was out of jail in the first place. It was a fine line between resentment & gratitude.

Luckily, throughout the various missions you had been a part of, you gained Sam’s trust. He took a liking in you & when he saw you struggling, he was eager to help. Obviously, the Raft yielded when the Captain America himself transmitted an inquiry. Only a few hours passed & you were on your way to Helmut’s current accommodation. A small jet that had been arranged just for you. In this instant, you did not feel average anymore. For a second, you experienced what it would feel like to live this kind of lifestyle. The one of a Baron. Why you were still unfamiliar with that even though your boyfriend was rich? Truthfully, you did not touch his money at all. It was his & when he did not have access to it while imprisoned, you did not dare using it either. Loyalty. Of course Zemo suggested utilization for you but you declined politely. After reasoning enough, he swore he fell even harder for you. The staunchness of you was remarkable.

It was bizarre. Entering the Raft with multiple workers circling you. You were told that these were the security measures that had to be met if someone wanted to visit an inmate. To you, it sounded like a poor excuse but you would not speak that thought out loud. Prisoners needed social contact. Physical contact could not be provided, that much you understood. But one would go insane without having the opportunity to see another human being that was not a guard working here.

Your body was a mess. Heart hammering at your chest with such a force, you believed it would burst any second. Irregular breaths left your lips. Trembling hands fiddled with each other in order to prevent others from noticing. Weak knees that threatened to no longer stabilize your body weight with each step you took forward. To bystanders, you probably appeared as a put-together person. On the inside, there was chaos. Nothing but chaos. How would you react? How would he react? Would you have privacy? An audience? Observers? Innumerable questions flooded your mind. Seemingly, having only one purpose. To drown you. To drown every bit of you. But you would not succumb that easily. You were so close to where you wanted to be. The fight could not end now. Disappointment would cloud you. More importantly, it would cloud him.

Four guards. It took four guards to guide you through the facility. To your surprise, the insides radiated a calm, almost content atmosphere. The walk lasted an eternity. At least, that was what it felt like. Your Helmut occupied a cell at the very end of the building. No explanation had been given to you as to why they decided to accommodate him there. Maybe, with Sam’s assistance, you could change his quarters & move it further up to the entrance. That way, if you visited again, you would not have to waltz through every narrow hallway. Listening to the whimpers of some inmates. The screams. The bashing. The…pain. There was only one person here who you were familiar with. Helmut. The others? You had no idea what crimes they implemented to end up at a place as dark as this.

“He’s at the end of that corridor.” one of the guards motioned for the others to leave you alone. His hand gestured to a tall white door that had a small built-in window. Your sight was obstructed by the frosted glass of it.

“Will you join me?” you questioned, wanting to prepare for it if he had to accompany you.

“Generally, yes.” he breathed out, putting his hands in the pockets of his uniform. Then, he sighed quietly & eyed you once more. “But since it was requested you speak to him alone, I’ll leave you be.”

“Whose request was that?” your eyebrows furrowed. The Raft was not an institution for exceptions. At first, the mere thought of getting to see Helmut again was an impossibility.

“Captain America’s.” he stated monotonously. The way his face scrunched up made it obvious that he was less than pleased about this decision. As soon as you were out of here, you had to call Sam & thank him for making this feasible.

“Oh.” it was all you could muster at the moment. There was an overwhelming feeling you had to handle. And it was not exactly one of your specialties.

“The door is unlocked. Walk down the hallway & the cell will come into view. If something happens, there’s an emergency button that should be operated whe-“ you stopped him during his speech.

“Thanks for your concern but I’ll be just fine.” a genuine smile formed on your face. The guard nodded at you, still slightly uncertain, & turned around without another word. Letting the uncomfortable silence envelop you. Your legs were frozen in place, preventing you from running to him. Maybe it was the thought of having to say goodbye again. As wonderful as it was that you were allowed to visit him, the concept of abandoning him broke your heart. The difference between the jail in Germany & this one was that you could not linger close by. The trip lasted for a while. Daily visitations were out of the question.

Slow but steady steps moved you over to the door. A hand raised to the doorknob. The coldness of it grounded you the slightest bit. You had to take a few deep breaths, just like he had instructed you multiple times before, in order to reduce the fast, almost unhealthy pace of your beating heart. Your hand twisted the doorknob to one side & when you heard the lock click, you pushed the door open with your entire body weight. Otherwise, you would have been too weak to do so. Bright lights had you squint your eyes. A hand was used as a shield to block most of the luminosity. When your eyes adjusted to the different setting, you straightened your back & brushed non-existent dust from your clothes. This motion gave you something to do with your hands. It was a much needed distraction. You held your head high, looking straight forward to the very end of the corridor. At the sides, the walls were painted bright white. Almost too bright for your liking. It resembled a hospital & you had never enjoyed them. The consistency of it was broken with the glass wall you were staring at. The one which was straight ahead. His cell, you figured. But there was no silhouette you could make out. Considering the size, you should have noticed him already. But he was not there. So you no longer moved in slow motion but jogged over to the pane.

Fast footsteps echoed in Helmut’s ears. Time was fluid in a jail like that. But it had not been long since a guard brought him breakfast. Whoever visited him now, it seemed to be urgent on the basis of the fast pace they approached. He scooted closer to the frigid wall behind his bed. Something he did to mess with the employees here. At least it gave him something to do. Besides reading tons of books & listening to the radio that had been prepared for him. That was luxurious enough for an inmate. All of a sudden, it was silent. Too quiet for his liking. The next thing he heard was music to his ears.

“Helmut?” your broken voice whispered & filled the room. Was he turning hallucinational? Nobody would blame him in a place like this. But not even his imagination could recall your softness so perfectly. He stood up, carefully, & widened his eyes at the sight of you. There you were, on the other side of the transparent wall. Separating the outside world from the box he found himself in.

“(Y/N)? You’re here.” no time was wasted. Helmut dragged his body as close to yours as his cell allowed him to. One of his hands touched the smooth surface & you mimicked his actions. There were tears threatening to escape but you tried everything to keep them locked inside. “Don’t cry.” the volume of his voice had lowered. Nobody could listen to you in here but it almost felt illicit to talk at a normal volume.

“I’m sorry.” you chuckled shortly, your free hand coming to your face to wipe at your cheeks. How he wanted to be the one to touch your tender skin. To have you lean into his palm.

“What are you sorry for?” the proximity was given yet unattainable. Your gaze averted, staring at the pavement floor.

“I don’t know…For everything?” you shrugged your shoulders, laughing at how incomprehensible you sounded. Helmut shook his head. That was how he knew you. Always being the one to carry everyone’s burden on your own. Though you did not need to.

“Stop that.” it was an order but not a forceful one. One that eased the tension immediately.

“Okay.” you mouthed.

The floor was everything but comfortable but you made do. Sitting cross legged opposite of Helmut was dreamlike. In your dreams, you had skin-to-skin contact but that delight had been denied. Simply having him next to you was enough for now. Helmut had his elbows on his knees, watching your every move. Reminiscing every small detail he could get a glimpse of. But there was nothing new he came across. He remembered you like the back of his hand. Sometimes even more precisely than you did yourself. And yet, his observation resembled the first time when his warm, chocolate brown eyes fell onto your frame. Usually, you handled his stares well but something inside of you told you to inquire.

“What?” you asked with a playful, teasing tone. His eyes locked onto yours. You giggled at his confused state.

“Is there a problem?” Helmut turned insecure for a second. And people who knew him were aware that he was barely ever uncertain.

“No, not at all.” you shook your head to emphasize your words. “Just…you’re staring.” you called him out. It made him laugh, his head falling back briefly.

“Is it forbidden to stare?” one of his eyebrows perked up. “I believe most people are flattered by the attention.” though he played the serious act quite well, you could tell that he was joking.

“You’re awful.” you laughed at his antics.

“I am aware.” he saw you opening your mouth to disagree with him but Helmut was faster. “(Y/N)?”

“What is it?” you rested your intertwined hands in your lap. But he had noticed the trembles. He had noticed you struggling. And he realized that it was because of the position you were currently in.

“How is it like? Outside, I mean.” he skillfully changed the topic before the atmosphere between you two could shift in a negative way.

“You have a radio.” your finger pointed to the one sitting on a small table inside the cell right next to a stack of read-through books. “I’m sure you have an idea of what it’s like.”

“But I would love to hear it from you.” there was an encouraging smile on his lips that you could not resist, no matter what.

“Well, Karli’s dead. Sharon took care of her.” you began & watched him nodding approvingly. “Bucky finished his amends & it really looks like he’s doing much better. He’s taking baby steps but he’s doing well.” you could not suppress the small smile when you spoke about the super soldier. Helmut was not jealous. Bucky & you had become fast friends over time.

“Could you deliver a message from me?” he continued after a hum from you. “Tell James that I am happy for him. And thank him from me.” that warmed your heart. All of the previous disputes aside, they had started tolerating each other. You would not go as far as calling them friends but what was not could still be.

“I will.” you promised with certainty. “Right, um…Sam is Captain America. This job is made for him. I truly believe, with him, we’ll achieve great things.” you quieted down, not exactly knowing how to continue.

“So you established Sam’s & James’ success. But what about you?” he read you too easily. No other person saw through you like he did. That affirmed the close bond you two shared even further.

“What about me?” a phony dumfounded expression was plastered on your face.

“How have you been doing?” it was a question with so much emotion & care hidden beneath, it brought tears to the corners of your eyes instantly. Your attempts to blink them away were gratuitous. They started rolling down over your cheeks. So fast, in fact, you could not even wipe them away with your sleeves in time. Helmut’s heart broke at this sight of you. It was clear as day that you experienced a rough patch. The cause of it was him being imprisoned, that much he knew. “Talk to me.” he whispered & cursed the guards for not granting his partner access inside his cell. But they thought he would plan another escape. At the same time, they were unaware that he would not take the risk to jeopardize your safety with a second try.

“It’s…” you took a deep breath to steady your voice & avoid the wavering & cracking. “It’s been hard.” you admitted quietly. “Without you.” you finished. Your eyes flickered up to his face. His look brought you the tiniest bit of contentment. The way his body language could comfort you in such a way was prodigious.

“Love.” the nickname gained your entire attention. It was like all of your worries melted away by the simple sound of it rolling from his lips. The tears did not stop but they were mixed with happiness now. Gratitude that you shared this moment with him. You were here. Helmut was here. Similar to how it used to be. Yet, entirely different. “Please look at me when I tell you this.” & you obeyed without a second thought. “You are my world. If I could change this situation, trust me that I would instantly. I understand your struggles. And I abominate that I cannot dispose of your demons. Or make them part of my own. Your pain causes me aching ten times worse. It is painful seeing you like this. My love, you must promise me one thing.” it was hard for him to get through this speech without his voice fading at the emotions he was experiencing. But he had to stay strong for you. It would only cause you more distress if you noticed him showing how affected he truly was.

“Anything, Helmut.” your reply followed straight after. If he asked you for something, you would do your very best to make him proud of you.

“Promise me to take care of yourself. I would hate to watch you disappear because of me.” the sincerity assured you how important it was to him.

“Helmut, I don’t think I coul-“ he shushed you when he spotted what you were intending to do.

“Promise me, my love.” he repeated & you closed your eyes briefly, releasing another wave of tears.

“I promise.” your eyelids slowly opened & you could detect the relief in his at your words.

“How did you persuade them into visiting an inmate?” the atmosphere had shifted to a relaxing feel once again. And his attempt to start another conversation was welcomed.

“I didn’t do anything. Though I’ve tried multiple times…Sam came to my aid.” you chuckled at the memory & the excitement you emitted after his call. The news had been the best in a very long time.

“Ah, of course, if Captain America requests a visitation…” Helmut started.

“The chiefs are on board in an instant.” you finished his sentence & the both of you laughed at the tomfoolery.

“Means that Sam is the reason for your stay.” you confirmed his thought process quietly. “Please express my gratitude for him as well.”

“Will do.” you wanted to maintain the dialogue with him but a loud noise from behind you caught you by surprise. The same guard who had instructed your appropriate behavior inside these hallways was back. There was a look on his face you could not quite identify but it left you uneasy.

“Time’s over.” the statement felt like someone stabbed you with a knife. Not once, not twice. Multiple times to cause as much damage as possible. Helmut then stood up from the floor, gesturing for you to do the same. The moment you were on your feet again, your knees were close to giving out. Digging deep inside, you mustered all the strength you had left & fixed your posture. You did that to avoid radiating a fragile appearance. “Bid your goodbyes, I’ll wait by the door.” the guard took his place in the doorway, waiting for you to approach him. Your body faced Helmut’s & you rested both of your hands on the glass in front of you. He mimicked you & if it were not for the transparent border, you would have touched.

“I’ll miss you.” you whispered as you pressed your forehead against the boundary.

“I will miss you more.” he followed right after. “But you are always here with me.” one hand rested above his heart. Goodbyes were difficult. Especially with the ulterior motive of not returning the following day. It would most likely take a while until you would face him again. Secretly, so nobody could discern what you were doing, you pulled a small paper out of your pocket & pushed it through one of the many, tiny holes in the glass wall. It dropped to the floor on the other side. Helmut sent you a questioning glance which you retuned with a soft, gentle smile. Coughing behind you brought you back to reality. You had to leave. As much as it hurt, you turned your back to Helmut & distanced yourself from his cell. Arriving at the exit, you looked over shoulder one last time. One last time, your eyes locked. One last time, you let your tender features speak. One last time. While you walked away from him, he picked the small paper up from the ground. Unfolding it with much care, his eyes got stuck on three little words that were neatly curved in your handwriting. So when your eyes met, he returned that favor without anyone realizing it. His lips moved & you saw him mouthing that same phrase back. Your smile grew wider, as did his. And then you were gone. Of course, you would come back. And with Sam’s help, it would probably be sooner rather than later. He stared at the door where you just walked through. His gaze then turned to the paper in his hands. Never would he let go of it again. He would treat it like it was made out of gold. To him, it was. And it was worth so much more. The feeling it triggered inside of him could not be purchased. It could only be provided by a special someone. That special someone was you. Reading through the note one more time, he sat down on the uncomfortable mattress. The displeasure was ignored for now. For a minute, he bathed in the loving emotions you brought to him.

“I love you. -xo(Y/N)”

Published (05/09/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @there-will-be-p-e-a-c-e, @simply-skeletons, @weareironmanbitches, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @bibliophilewednesday, @msmarvelsmain, @takacsgram, @ya-boi-is-dead, @deamus-liv, @therenlover (thanks for your support <3)

143 notes · View notes

deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

Text

Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

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AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst writing #twst fanfic #fanfic: courtship #reader insert #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fanfiction #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #x reader

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leigh-kelly · 3 years

Text

Completions and Connections: Quarantine Christmas

So 2020, huh? Ugh. Santana and I had started the year amazingly, with Tyler turning a year old and me kind of setting up a schedule that let me go on assignment more than I had in his first year—though, so much less than I had before I had a wife and a son to want to be home with. Things were good...and then they weren’t. But obviously everyone can relate, you know, it didn’t happen in a bubble or anything.

I was in Sweden when Santana called me utterly freaking out. Because I was always pretty isolated from the news when I was traveling and she hadn’t seemed especially worried about COVID until shit hit the fan, I was taken almost entirely by surprise. She told me that it looked like everything was going to shut down, she didn’t know what was going to happen with the borders and she wanted me to come home as soon as possible. Honestly, in hindsight I should have had her bring Tyler to Sweden where there was actually a competent federal government, but obviously that’s not what happened.

I called my boss immediately and within hours, I’d abandoned my shoot and was on a plane bound for New York. Nothing else really mattered to me except getting home to them and since everyone was in a collective state of what the fuck, no one even argued with me about it. Two days later, Discover pulled all of their foreign correspondents anyway, so I pretty much got out just in time. We figured it would be two weeks, a month maybe, and then things would get back to normal. Little did we know how wrong we were.

Back in New York, things were...weird. People packed up and left the city in droves, everything looked abandoned and I immediately wished that we had a place in the mountains that we could go to. We probably could have bought something, that was true, but Santana had her practice and we both knew she wouldn’t abandon that, she’d worked too hard for it.

Yeah, so speaking of that. Tyler’s daycare shut down with everything else, I was home indefinitely, but my wife, my beautiful, amazing wife, still had to go to work every day. That was the scariest thing for us, knowing that she could be exposed at any given moment, knowing that she could bring it home to Tyler and I. We knew she was as safe as could be, she stockpiled PPE on a regular basis because she dealt with disease anyway and was super precautious about protection, but we couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough. For two days, we discussed whether she should go stay with Unique and isolate from us, but Tyler was still nursing and we thought it would really mess him up if she was gone. We had no idea if we were making the right choice, but it was a choice we had to make.

Everything was a major adjustment. Tyler and I had to learn a new routine during the day where I pulled ideas from Pinterest to do with him and ordered about a zillion boxes from Amazon full of activities. I took him out on walks in the early morning before people were outside, letting him breathe the fresh air when it was safe and taking pictures of the empty city, figuring at some point Discover might want them for a series and quite honestly, missing being behind the lens of a camera. I learned to bake bread, I made elaborate dinners and I fought so much boredom, remembering every day that it was better to be bored than dead.

It was different for Santana though. Though she wasn’t working with diagnosed COVID patients, she never knew what was walking through her door. Each night, she came home with marks under her eyes from her N-95, a band indent around her head from her face shield, and her face just so tired from doing the best she could to provide her patients with care in the midst of everything else. So I held her tight, I told her how much I loved her, how proud of her I was, but that didn’t help on the nights she heard that a patient had died, that didn’t help when she heard from contact tracers that someone had been to her office who tested positive and she shut herself up in the guest bedroom away from Tyler and me and waited anxiously for her latest round of test results.

But onto the more positive, our boy absolutely thrived. Turns out I was kinda good at the whole stay at home mom thing and I was glad that I found fulfillment in that. Plus, I wasn’t halfway around the world when he took his first steps, didn’t miss him say “mama” for the first time and all of that good stuff. We FaceTimed with my parents and Santana’s all the time, made sure they got to see him grow. When things got a little better in the summer, Tina would join us on our walks with her son and the two boys would babble away to each other from their respective strollers. And most importantly, we learned to look for the good, we tried to ignore the worst in people and see the best because it was really the only way we could get through it.

Christmas was three days away and though we wouldn’t do our customary dinner with Santana’s parents, she and I were still really excited that our boy was in love with the lights on the tree, that he was big enough to sit on the counter with us while we made Christmas cookies, could sit through half of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer before he got fussy. Maybe Christmas was really different then it had ever been before—and Christmas was obviously so important to Santana and I—but that didn’t mean that it couldn’t still be magical.

“Office is officially closed until December 27th.” Santana burst into the house that evening, her red scarf wrapped around her neck and the biggest grin on her face as soon as she pulled off her mask. “Let me shower and change and then I’m going to give you two the biggest kisses.”

Like she did every day when she came home from work, Santana immediately stripped off her clothes and put them in the washing machine and jumped right in the shower. I missed being able to kiss her as soon as she walked in the door, but we both knew it was much safer to wait twenty minutes until any surface germs were off of her. Tyler didn’t exactly get it, he still whined and waited outside the bathroom door, but he was always the first one she kissed, our sweet little boy.

“Come on, Ty, let’s make Mama an espresso so she can sit down and relax with us when she gets out.”

I took the baby into the kitchen with me and made Santana’s afternoon drink, sprinkling a little cinnamon on top, because it was almost Christmas after all and I wanted it to be special for her. When she came out of the shower, she took Tyler from my arms and kissed him all over his face, laughing right along with him and his sweet little giggles. Then she sandwiched him between us and kissed my lips, smiling as she did. I knew that her job was more stressful than ever and the five days off would do her some real good.

“What’s on the Christmas agenda tonight, Britt?” She asked, putting Tyler on her hip and taking her cup from me.

“My parents want to FaceTime, if that’s okay with you.”

“Obviously, we haven’t talked to them since last week.”

“Yeah, well, you know how my mom is.” I shrugged, thinking that she was probably a little pissed that we told her not to come for Christmas and Ty’s birthday, but it was what it was. “It probably won’t be long, who knows?”

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah I guess I’m just aggravated with her. She’s asked me like four hundred times if we changed our minds about her coming. This is like Thanksgiving all over again.”

“I mean, I get it, it sucks. Everyone wants to be with their families and I can’t wait until this is over so we can take Ty to Colorado, but we’re just not there yet.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Obviously, Britt, you tell me all your secrets. You couldn’t even hang onto my birthday gift for more than a day after you got it this year.”

“I love Christmas Eve with your parents, it would have been nice to have mine here, but I kind of selfishly am looking forward to this year being just the three of us. Last year poor Tyler was so tired when we got home from your parents’, Christmas Day will be better with him on his regular routine.”

“I agree, and I honestly am looking forward to just relaxing with you guys, no stress, no drama, no dealing with my grandmother who can’t even bring herself to look at our son.” She shook her head. “Plus, it’s our anniversary, I do love the idea of not having your parents in the apartment that night.”

“Oh really?” I smirked and she laughed, before Tyler pat her face and shouted ‘Mama!’

“I know, baby boy, Mommy and I are totally ignoring you. “Let’s go play for a little while before we have to start dinner.”

So I was obsessed with watching Santana on the floor with Tyler. It started when he was a baby and she’d lay beside him got tummy time. I could never resist taking out my camera and getting a few shots of them together, especially because he was the spitting image of her and they just looked absolutely beautiful together. Santana always teased me about how many pictures I had, but I couldn’t help myself ever. They were too much and I loved them with everything in me.

Santana got so involved with playing with Tyler that I assured her I’d make dinner and slipped off into the kitchen, leaving them on the floor playing with his ball tower. It was hard to believe that our kid was almost two, that it had been so long since she and I reunited on Christmas Eve in the grocery store. But it was perfect. It really was, even in the midst of 2020, I had nothing to complain about in my life. We were healthy, we were happy and though we’d really been isolated from everyone else, we knew how loved we were.

We had barely finished eating dinner when my phone rang and I sighed a little when I looked down and saw that it was my mother. I really didn’t want another fight with her and as much as I wanted her to see Tyler, even through the screen, it had been hard. She was a hippie at heart and she didn’t do well with feeling like the government was controlling her, so I had to explain only about a thousand times that it was for her safety and everyone else’s.

“Hi Grandma.” I held the phone in front of Tyler and he grinned and waved.

“Hi Mamaw!”

“It’s my little Ty! Oh how I want to kiss your face and squeeze you!”

“Here we go.” I mouthed to Santana who rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you think Grandma should come for Christmas? I promise, I’ll bring lots of presents.”

“Mom!” I turned the phone away from him and toward me. “Not cool.”

“It’s just me and your father, Brittany, it’s not like we’re bringing the whole world to see you.”

“We said no. We’re not seeing Santana’s parents, we’re not seeing our friends. The case count is rising and it’s only going to get worse after Christmas. We refuse to put anyone at risk.”

“Whitney, listen.” Santana took the phone from me, sensing my frustration. “I promise the first thing that we’ll do when this is over is come to Colorado, okay?”

“But it’s been a year since I’ve seen my grandson, your parents have at least seen him outside.”

“I know, and if you lived closer, we would see you outside too, but that’s just not what’s going on.”

“It just doesn’t feel like the holiday season.”

“It’s one year, Mom.” I took the phone back. “That’s it. And I’ve told you this more times than I can count. You calling and harassing us and trying to bribe Tyler isn’t going to change that.”

“I think dinner’s ready, I have to go.”

She hung up the call before I could say anything else and Santana came behind me and squeezed my shoulders. I relaxed into her body and she kissed my neck, knowing that always got my mind off of anything else. But then, Tyler started crying and I kind of wanted to punch my mom since he enjoyed talking to her so much and I didn’t think it was fair that she was taking out her frustrations on him.

“C’mere, baby.” I lifted him out of his high chair and gave him a squeeze. “It’s bath time!”

It was kind of funny how after Tyler was born, I became so much less awkward around people. Whenever I was able to stay put in New York, I had taken him to his Music Together class, to the park, wherever I could, you know, back when those things were still open and having him almost made me have some kind of common ground with other human beings so I didn’t just blurt out whatever was on my mind as often. Not to say it didn’t still happen, I was still me, after all, but I think Santana and I both really changed once he came along, in the best way possible.

The next day, we FaceTimed with the Changs, Kurt and Dave who had been working from home and isolating outside of the city since March and Mercedes, who had been pulling a real Taylor Swift and writing album after album in quarantine. While Tyler napped, Santana and I finished wrapping the last of his presents and got them all situated to put under the tree for the next night. I was beyond excited for the non-traditional Christmas, just ready to watch Christmas movies and drink hot cocoa in our pajamas and I knew Santana was too.

The next morning, Tyler woke us up before six and I told Santana to stay in bed while I went across the hall to get him. He completely beamed up at me, though his eyes were still tired, and I lifted him into my arms to bring him into our bedroom. Once he was in the bed, he crawled around, pawing at Santana’s face and she finally sat up with a laugh, kissing him all over his face.

“Merry Christmas Eve, little dude.” She told him. “You know Santa’s coming tonight.”

“Santa! Santa!” He clapped, though neither of us were really sure he even knew what that meant.

“What do you want to do today, babe?” Santana asked me and I shrugged.

“I mean, we’re doing the Christmas movie marathon tomorrow and you know, we ate all the fudge your mom dropped off...”

“So you want to make fudge?”

“I mean, you’re the keeper of Maribel Lopez’s secret fudge recipe, it only seems right.”

“If you want fudge, you get fudge.” She smiled and I did a little happy dance in the bed. The fudge was honestly so good that sometimes, when I was gone for longer than I’d like and I was hitting that homesickness point, Santana would send it in a care package. Yeah, my wife was cute like that, she didn’t stop sending me care packages just because we had rings on our fingers. The best, seriously.

So we made the fudge. Then we went for a walk in the park, where there were thankfully not too many people to have to dodge and we looked up at the sky, thinking it really looked like snow was coming. A white Christmas would be nice and probably the most un-2020 thing to happen so I really kind of was looking forward to it. Once Tyler was asleep in his stroller, we went home and Santana carried him upstairs to his bed and we went to do one last double check on the gifts.

“You’re sure you’re cool with being Santa tonight?” She asked me.

“We couldn’t take him to Macy’s and he needs to have a picture with Santa, of course I’m cool with being Santa. We got the suit and the pillows and the beard, I’m so ready.”

“You’re really the best mom, you know that right?”

“Please...you’re like super mom or something.”

“Just let me give you a compliment, Britt.” She rolled her eyes. “I hate that everything has sucked pretty bad in the world, but him having you around every day, and me not having to freak out about if he was safe while I went to work is definitely the best thing that ever could have happened.”

“It feels really good to be able to do it. I don’t know, looking at the map in his nursery showing me in New York for the past nine months has been really good, I feel like I miss a lot when I’m gone.”

“Do you not want to do it anymore?”

“No, I do, I’m just grateful for the time. And to be honest, I don’t think my job is ever going to go back to looking like what it used to, so maybe that means a lot more time with you both.”

“We’re so lucky, you know? I thought about it a lot this year, like what if I would have been single when this happened and isolated from my parents and my friends. It’s hard enough some days, but going through it alone...”

“Yeah, I know. I totally do. Even in the shittiest year, the world is a whole lot better with you and Tyler in it.”

After another hour or so, Tyler woke up and was ready to play. We pulled over his learning tower in the kitchen and he stood at the counter with us as we cooked our Christmas Eve feast. Just because it was the three of us didn’t mean we weren’t going to do tamales and a pork shoulder like we did every year at Santana’s parents—although luckily, we’d prepared the tamales ahead of time—and even though it was a little early, Santana poured bourbon into our eggnog and we started celebrating.

After dinner, I went upstairs and changed into my Santa suit. Maybe people would think it said something about gender roles or what the fuck ever that I was the one to dress up as Santa, but it wasn’t like that. I just thought it would be really fun and figured we could get our Christmas picture of Tyler. While Santana had him in his bedroom, I slipped out of the door to our apartment and waited with my mask in the hallway for Santana to open up to my knocks. When the door swung open, she held Tyler in her arms and I gave my best ‘ho ho ho’ carrying two gifts for him.

“Mommy!” He shouted, clapping his hands and giggling. “Mommy!”

“That’s not Mommy, silly boy.” Santana laughed, eyes sparkling. “It’s Santa Claus.”

“No, Mommy!”

“Alright.” I chuckled, taking off my beard and hat so as not to confuse him. “You’re right. C’mere, buddy.”

Santana just laughed and laughed as I took him into my arms and handed her the gifts. He was a smart one, that was for sure, and he patted my cheeks as I carried him over to the Lord Tubbington proof Christmas tree and sat down on the floor with him.

“You’re right Ty, Santa isn’t coming until after you’re asleep, I was just being silly. But look, we have some presents for you.”

We sat with him as he took his time opening his gifts, a new pair of Christmas pajamas and a copy of Olive the Other Reindeer to read at bedtime. He was really excited about the book and roughly turned the pages, trying to see all the pictures. Then, we took him up for his bath and got him settled into his new pajamas and into his bed. Santana read to him and I sat back and watched, just so in love with the two of them. I didn’t even bother to take pictures though, I just wanted to be in the moment and Santana occasionally looked over at me and smiled. Even with the shit year we’d had, it really was the perfect Christmas Eve and once Tyler’s eyes slipped closed, I leaned over and kissed Santana on the lips.

“Merry Christmas, my love.” She smiled.

“The merriest yet.”

#brittana #completions and connections #christmas fic

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spidercakes · 4 years

Note

Since you like mob AUs, here’s a prompt u thought of: Peter is dating Beck or whoever, who doesn’t treat him right. What Peter doesn’t know is that his bf is a mob boss. Mob boss tony kidnaps peter out of revenge towards beck or for info or whatever. Soon he realizes peter has no idea what’s going on, and decides to keep him. Peter isn’t too upset about that.

I finagled with the prompt a little bit, Tony deliberately kidnaps Peter because he has no patience for domestic violence and is basically offended that Beck sucks. The rest is true to the prompt!

Warming: mentions of violence, mentions of domestic violence, age difference, this is more preslash than anything.

Tony feels bad that poor Peter looks so damn terrified but snatching him off the street seemed less... invasive than his other options. Plus its easier to leave less evidence that way and while he doesn’t give a shit what Beck thinks he doesn’t want to deal with him deciding to harass the hell out of him about his kidnapped boyfriend either.

He leans into the table and Peter immediately leans back. Tony sighs, “you know you deserve better than that piece of shit, right?” he asks. The kid has to know, he has to. Tony has looked into him because he had to wonder how the hell Quentin Beck, smart but ultimately an unhinged jackass with a temper, landed someone so... amazing. Peter is smart, his credentials prove it, his social media is all related to various social issues he cares about so he’s compassionate, and he’s stupid attractive. Like Beck deserved someone like that even before considering the whole ‘beats his boyfriend’ thing.

Its not that Tony has morals, he doesn’t really because they aren’t useful to him, but he’s got his limits. They’re few and far in between but domestic violence lands on his rather short list so that had made up his mind. The fact that Beck would be missing Peter is mostly an afterthought to Peter being removed from a shitty environment.

“As opposed to what, you? You literally snatched me off the street!” Peter says, voice shrill but its ballsy nonetheless. More ballsy than half the supposedly tough criminals he roughs up on a regular basis. By now most of them would be begging, but not Peter. But then surviving what he did gives a person a certain kind of strength, Tony knows.

“No, not really. I’m mostly here to mess Beck’s business up, and your lack of presence does that but I might as well kill two birds with one stone by telling you that you should get out. I mean I get it if you can’t, all things considered, but I’m well connected myself so if Beck think he can outdo-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Peter asks, voice still several octaves higher than normal.

Tony frowns for a moment as something occurs to him. “There’s no way you don't know...”

Peter rolls his eyes looking semi hysterical, “well clearly I fucking don’t because I have no idea what this is and I’d really like to go home, please,” he says, voice cracking as he starts sniffling towards the end.

Across the room Rhodey gives him a look. “Keep it to yourself Rhodes,” Tony tells him.

“Just saying,” Rhodey murmurs.

Peter turns to face him, frowning. “Did he say something?”

“Not with words. Twenty five years of friendship has led to me being really, really good at reading his body language. As for home do you have anywhere else you could go that isn’t back to Beck? Seriously, that guy is a piece of shit. And a mob boss. That’s what this whole thing is about. He keeps messing with my business and I don’t really take kindly to that,” he says, sparing Peter the details. Mostly because he doesn’t want Peter to think he’ll become the details.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re a real charmer in comparison,” Peter mumbles.

He doesn’t expect Rhodey to be the one to snort but he does, “yeah he’s a murderer but he’d never hit his significant other,” he says and the unshakable confidence in his voice is touching, really. Peter slumps a little in his seat and the poor thing looks desolate. He’d try and comfort him but he’s sure he wouldn’t be any good at it given that Peter is probably, and rightfully, afraid of him too.

The last thing he expects is for Peter to burst into tears though he supposes they’ve come later than normal. Usually he doesn’t do this sort of thing, target family, because he finds it distasteful but on the rare occasion he breaks that general rule they usually cry four seconds into it, not several minutes into it. He sighs, “aside from the kidnapping thing, what’s wrong?” he asks.

Rhodey’s eyebrows would have hit his hairline if he had one but instead he just looks at Tony like he’s a god damn moron. Which, in hindsight, his question does sound really stupid. “You kidnapped me,” Peter says, voice gone back to that shrill tone he’d had before. “You fucking kidnapped me and you’ve been nicer to me for the last twenty minutes than Quent has in the last five years,” he finishes right before crying even harder.

He looks at Rhodey, who squints and lifts his hands into the air in a ‘what the fuck’ motion. Great, so he can’t expect any help from him apparently. Some right hand man he is, Pepper is going to replace him soon if he keeps it up. “Look, you don’t need to go back. Its not as hard to make people disappear as cops think it is provided you know what you’re doing. Peter Parker doesn’t even need to exist and Beck isn’t competent enough to find whatever fake name you choose, trust me on that.”

Peter sniffles harshly but calms a little at least. “I’m no- not running away,” he mumbles.

“Taking necessary precautions isn’t running away, I know you know Beck better than I do and I know he doesn’t back down easy. He will try and hunt you down,” Tony says but not unkindly. He gets it, really, he does. He and his mother lived it.

Peter considers this a moment before he sits up a little straighter, still crying but the tears are silent. “You said you had connections. Do you have any way I can stay in New York and avoid Quent?”

Not exactly given that that’s a tall order. “Stay here as long as you want, we can work out the details later when you’re in a better position to land on your feet. And when I get the time to consider the logistics of that. I highly doubt Beck will bother you here though, I have a reputation and even he’s not stupid enough to test me.”

Peter knows Tony has to be dangerous, it comes with the whole mob thing and Tony isn’t shy about referencing violence at all. Peter doesn’t think he’d be shyer if he actually had to follow through on his words either, there’s just something about the easy way he talks about inflicting pain on people that Peter thinks is experienced. He has yet to see any evidence of it though and its been a month, he’s had time but Tony has been nothing but kind to him to an unusual degree if the reactions of everyone else around him is any indication.

Everyone from his business partner, Pepper, to Rhodey seem to find Tony’s fascination with him odd but Peter doesn’t so much mind if he gets to benefit from it. He’s wanted to leave Quent for a long time but he’d always suspected that he hadn’t reached his peak of violence and that’s partially why he stayed. The other part was not knowing where to go and he knew damn well that Quent wouldn’t just let him go.

So it was kind of convenient that Tony showed up when he did and he’s held up his end of the bargain. Peter hasn’t had to deal with Quent since Tony pulled him off a random street and he doesn’t mind that he has to take Natasha with him everywhere he goes. Its inconvenient but he’ll take that over having to deal with whatever Quent would try if he managed to find him again. Or gain access to him, he’s sure Quent figured out where he went by now when he hasn’t really been shy about it.

And that’s how Peter knows in his heart of hearts that Tony’s reputation isn’t just to be believed, but to be actively feared. Quent is mean and possessive and Peter never thought he could just walk out of their relationship but thanks to whatever it is that Tony does to people he managed.

“What?” Tony asks, probably sensing Peter staring at him.

“Why are people so afraid of you? I’ve never even heard you raise your voice,” he says. He’s seen Tony pissed off and he’s got a habit for mumbling in Italian but he doesn’t seem much for raising his voice even when actively livid. Peter finds it hard to be afraid of him even if he knows he should be.

Tony laughs a little, “you haven’t heard me yell because I’ve purposefully never yelled around you, not because I don’t. And people are afraid of me because I’m single minded in my goals and have a nasty habit of achieving them no matter the cost. They’ve grown wise not to get in my way.”

And there it is again, that slightly threatening nature but its hard to reconcile that with the guy who, after kidnapping him, immediately told him he deserved better than the treatment he was getting at home. Its hard to believe someone can sit on extremes that large, that someone would offer a perfect stranger a home and protection for literally no reason in one second and then do some kind of great violence the next. Rhodey said Tony was a murderer and that statement was confident, fact, but Peter just doesn’t see how Tony could do it. But then apparently he’s gone through the trouble of making sure Peter didn’t have to hear him yell.

“Why would you do that?” he asks because he knows Tony has some surprisingly kind reason for doing that.

He shrugs, “I figured after being yelled at as much as you have you probably didn’t like hearing people yell now. Probably triggers a stress response so we all freak out when you aren’t in the room.”

We all. Peter frowns because it isn’t just Tony, he’d made that order to everyone and he knows they’ll all listen, even Natasha even though she’s the most likely to tell Tony no. Partially because of sibling rivalry and also because she seems the least afraid of him next to Rhodey. “You told everyone not to yell in my presence because you didn’t want to stress me out? I can handle yelling, I’m not glass.” He doesn’t know why he’s prickling to this when its actually incredibly kind of Tony, and so unexpected the way all his kindnesses have been.

Tony doesn’t look ruffled though, instead he looks almost a little proud. “Oh I know you aren’t glass, and this isn’t a question of whether or not you can handle something. Its more making sure you don’t need to, not when you’re clearly still waiting for the shoe to drop. After that you can be fair game if you really want it,” he says, lips twitching up a little.

Peter loses that sharp edge of feeling he’d had and relaxes. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you don’t need to do any of that.”

Tony shakes his head though, “basic care, its not an issue and its always kind of a funny test of self control. You don’t understand Italian though, so I do most of my venting that way.”

So Peter has noticed. “I have a hard time reconciling this with someone who’s supposedly dangerous,” he says, blurting it out accidentally.

Tony doesn’t take offense to it, he just looks Peter up and down. “People aren’t as simple as we like to think and being capable of murder doesn’t make me incapable of not being a dick. I wouldn’t hurt you, I don’t have reason to, but I’m known as the Merchant of Death for a reason.”

Merchant of Death, he’s heard that before but he can’t remember where. Doesn’t matter know because he can figure out what that means at least in part. “Why do you keep doing that, reminding me that you’re like... dangerous or whatever?”

“Because I don’t want you to be surprised,” Tony tells him. “Its a lot easier to make sure that doesn’t happen if you know what to expect.”

“Why does that matter to you though?” It shouldn’t, Peter isn’t his responsibility and he’s surprisingly caring for someone who has no reason to be. Peter has had friends that went less out of their way to accommodate for him than Tony has with zero connection to him.

“People fear me, but that doesn’t always mean that they won’t test me. Apparently Beck didn’t even tell you how he made his money and that’s a bad idea, keeping someone in the dark like that. God knows what would have happened to you if I had more bad intentions than screwing with your ex’s life.”

Peter frowns again because its hard, figuring out what the hell is going on in Tony’s head. “So you’re being honest with me in case what, someone else kidnaps me? Because that seems unlikely.” What are the chances he’d be kidnapped by another mob? He didn’t even know he was affiliated with the first one in any way so it seems a bit much to be kidnapped by a third.

“Or worse, yes. And its not as unlikely as you think, none of us are exactly pleasant to piss off and I’ve got an impressive talent for pissing people off. Everyone who’s around me is a target but you’re the only one who refuses to carry a gun.” Right, Peter had forgot about that. He hadn’t anticipated reacting so strongly but given the circumstances he thinks his meltdown wasn’t as bad as it could have been and Tony dropped the idea of him carrying around a gun for protection real quick.

“My uncle Ben got shot and killed in a robbery gone wrong when I was a teenager,” Peter says. “And I didn’t like guns before that either. Or anything lethal.” Expect Quent, if Tony’s hinting is to be believed but then he’s always had a thing for bad boys. Women? His taste is normal and results in pretty good relationships in his experience. Men? He seemingly can’t pick them any worse than he has previously and Quent is a whole new level of garbage for him.

Tony looks him over for a moment, “you should learn some self defense though, if for no other reason than it being generally useful. Natasha would probably be happy to teach you.”

Peter wrinkles his nose, “can I get someone less terrifying?”

He doesn’t expect it when Tony cracks up laughing but it looks a lot nicer on him than the air of seriousness that usually taints his presence. “She might be the least scary we’ve got,” he tells Peter and starts laughing harder at whatever face he’s making.

“If that’s the least scary you’ve got I feel so bad for anyone who tries to fuck with you.”

Peter doesn’t take to self defense well and Natasha clearly doesn’t know what to do with that, but that makes it kind of fun to watch. “None of this is difficult, what is so confusing to you that you?” she asks Peter, who is on the floor breathing hard.

“Nothing, he just doesn’t want to hurt you,” Bucky says from the other side of the room where he’s watching. Tony raises an eyebrow but Bucky only shrugs.

Natasha rolls her eyes at Peter, “trust me, there’s no way you can do any real damage to me. First of all you’re weak, second of all you have almost no skills, and third, I have a high pain tolerance anyway. Get up and stop worrying about doing damage you can’t even do,” Natasha tells him.

Its easy to see Peter isn’t suited to this, at least not the way Natasha is teaching it. “Just give him a basic lesson in self defense moves, none lethal ways for him to buy himself enough time to get out of a given situation,” Tony tells her. “He’ll be resistant to learning much else.” Peter has made it clear he has a distaste for hurting people in any manner but especially the kind of brutal manner Natasha is used to and desensitized from.

“You can get out of a situation faster if you stab them,” Natasha tells Peter specifically and he does that thing that he does sometimes when he’s reminded that he’s in an environment that’s more violent than he agrees with.

He gives Natasha an unimpressed look with a surprising amount of steely strength in his gaze. “I’m not stabbing people because you think that’s the only way to get anything done,” he snaps. His response clearly comes as a surprise to Natasha and Bucky but not so much to Tony. He’d been that immediately brave off the bat with him and he didn’t lose his confidence when he found out who he was. Peter has a quiet kind of strength that Tony admires and Natasha doesn’t know what to do with given that people don’t often test her. She’s unnerving at the very least, its why Tony chose her specifically to be his lead enforcer. That, and people are stupid enough to underestimate her because she’s a woman.

Natasha looks him over for a long moment, “alright, then.”

For the next hour Natasha does a slightly better job teaching Peter how to break holds and other simple self defense moves that he picks up on a little faster than how to properly maim someone. Peter doesn’t like it any, that much is obvious, but he does pay attention to Natasha and does his best to pick up what she’s trying to teach at least until Natasha gets bored enough to dismiss him.

“What, don’t like that this one didn’t immediately think he could take you out?” Tony asks her as she walks over. Across the room Bucky snorts and laughs probably because he’s seen people try and fail about a million times. Hell, at this point he’s failed at it a million times too. He might have trained her but she’s better at killing people than he is, try as he might. Probably because he actually likes people and seems to feel the fallout of having killed someone in a way Natasha doesn’t. Tony isn’t sure if she’s good at compartmentalizing or if she actually doesn’t feel anything about it and he doesn’t care either, her skills suit him.

Her lips quirk up a bit at the corners and she shakes her head. “No, actually. Its refreshing to have someone in here who immediately knows I can kick his ass and have something to teach. I approve,” she tells him.

Tony frowns, “what?”

“Of Peter, I approve. We all do, but Rhodey seems to think you’ll listen to me the best for whatever reason. I think you’d listen to him but what do I know, I’m only your sister,” she mumbles, shaking her head and walking off.

“Not that you admit that out loud often,” Tony calls after her in a teasing manner.

“Like you admit you’re related to Howard often either, you should understand,” Natasha tells him, grinning at him as she leaves the room.

“God, she’s fucking unsettling when she smiles,” Bucky says, coming up beside him.

Tony looks him over and he’s got that stupid lovestruck look on his face like he always does. Tony rolls his eyes, “just ask her out, god. What the fuck are you waiting for, Judgement Day?”

“You don’t even believe in God,” Bucky points out.

“Yeah, exactly. You’re waiting for a moment that’s never going to come so make your own moment. And what’s this about approving of Peter?”

Peter doesn’t expect the clothes, or the shoes, or anything else Tony must have done research on to get right. Everything is exactly the kind of thing he would have picked up for himself if he had the chance and its sweet, if a little unnerving at the same time.

“This is cute,” Natasha says, picking up a dress as she walks in without bothering to knock. He’s learned that she’s a bit of a pest when she likes people, but it takes her a lot of time to warm up to them.

“I can’t imagine you wearing a dress,” he tells her. All he’s seen her in is all black outfits that looked a bit like she was ready to rob someone and after mentioning her style choices to her once he discovered they were purposeful, and also a bit of a joke. She’s got a weird sense of humor but Peter can deal with that.

“I wear dresses all the time, you just don’t see me in them,” she tells Peter, grinning. “You should wear this later,” she adds, handing him the dress.

He takes it, frowning. “O...kay? Am I supposed to be going somewhere?”

She nods, “yes, on a date with Tony because he’s never going to ask you and we’re all tired of waiting around.” Peter must look more confused and it makes Natasha roll her eyes. “Look, normally I stay out of anything that isn’t a stabbing but the fact that you guys are a good match is clear and I doubt another good match for Tony is going to just show up. He’s difficult to get along with.”

Peter has never found that to be true. “I don’t see how he’s even still single. I mean yeah, maybe the guy runs a mob and he’s like... a little overdramatic and whatever but he’s really generous.”

Natasha laughs, “no, he’s not. He’s mean, cruel, sometimes even delights in it, and generally speaking an arrogant asshole. Usually you have to know him to get past all that but its like you skipped that and went straight to part where you find out he has personality traits that aren’t threatening to kill someone. And he listens to you.”

She says that like its important but Tony listens to everyone. “I don’t see why you didn’t try and get him and Rhodey together if that was a concern.” Rhodey knows him better than anyone, that much is clear so it seems to Peter that he’d be a better choice.

Judging from the look on Natasha’s face its not as good an idea as he thought it was. “He’s married to Pepper. We need to work on your observation skills if you didn’t notice the ring. Its not exactly like its hard to see,” she says. Now that Peter thinks about it he had noticed a silver ring, but hadn’t clued in to the fact that it was on his ring finger. Maybe Natasha has a point about his observation skills.

“What makes you think Tony even has an interest?” He knows he’s an unusual case but he’s not a total dunce in the observation department so he knows its because he’s got this thing with domestic violence, has no patience for it. He’s not so sure his... appreciation goes beyond that.

“You tell him ‘no.’ Trust me there’s nothing Tony values more than people who aren’t afraid of him. Even if he’s acted like a total Bond villain in an attempt to seem all dangerous or whatever. You should know that I’m actually the dangerous one, Tony’s like a grumpy puppy. He seems mean but he actually just wants a treat,” Natasha says, grinning.

Bucky is right, it is unnerving when she smiles. “What makes you think I’m interested?”

“The fact that you took this long to ask that,” she points out.

Alright, he’ll give her that. So he smiles a little, sitting on the edge of his bed, dress still in hand. “He does kind of act like a Bond villain. You know people are afraid of him because no one points it out,” he says, snickering.

Natasha snorts and starts laughing and just like that its like he’s like he’s broken through some kind of barrier that makes Natasha chatter and a hell of a lot weirder, but not in a bad way. Peter finds her less intimidating when she’s not staring through him like she can see his thoughts, and he also finds he likes her sense of humor when he’s not just getting bits and pieces of it.

“You don’t think this is too soon, do you?” he asks her as she leaves.

She shrugs, “probably, but the good news is that Tony has a bad habit of being one hundred percent in or one hundred percent out, he doesn’t do middle ground well. So if you let him, he’ll be more than devoted to you and you know what that looks like,” she says.

Yeah, he does so he nods. “Okay.”

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #mob au #starker mob au

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

Text

Legend of the Three Cablleros: Nazca Racing and Mexico A-Go-Go

Saludos Amgios and welcome back to The Ride of the Three Caballeros! And we’re almost at the finish line! After this reviews only 4 episodes, 2 reviews and a top 12 list/celebration of this long and fun as hell journey, this one for free to thank kev for paying for all these reviews and because without him this probably woudlnt’ of happened for some time and I thank him for that. Point is we’re so close I can taste it to being finished here so with nothing else to cover, after the cut we’re diving right into adventure.. literally.

Nazca Racing:

So we open at the outside of Sheldgoose Manor as while we’re not at the scene of the action YET, the show has kept it’s tendency to have intresting intros as it goes on. Point is Xandra is incredulous about the guys claims of a magic barrier.. for some reason. Seriously Sheldrake is a powerful sorecerer, has a lair, even if they don’t know about that part, why WOULDN’T his place be shielded from you guys? Still she has to test it punchiing it , arrowing it and throwing a rock at it.. and the rock does take out a window prove it even if i’ts vandalism but that wasn’t a crime thousands of years ago and no one saw them so we good.

Our heroes brainstorm back at the Cabana what to do, ignoring the girls suggestion that since the cabs can’t get through the barrier they can but are ignored because ... I dunno. I seriously dont’ know, they haven’t treated the kids like this before or since. Also if you were wondering why not humphrey, spark of life. Too risky. But this discourse is interupted as there’s a signal in peru. The trap has been sprung and the girls warn it might be since they KNOW the cabs will show up where they are and have time to plan but are brushed off. We also get the start of a thread with Jose as he gives all his money to some kittens who are actually con artists. Turns out that’s WHY he’s poor: he gets money easily but donates it all to bogus charities. You know like Louie’s kids or PETA. It’s a nice character trait, showing despite being a lady’s man and having a bit of an ego.. he’s still a very good guy if very, VERY gullible. Hopefully it comes up againa s this smacks of a flaw brought up and solved in one episode, and while ti’s adressed her it really dosen’t get resolved, but with 5 episodes left after this I HIGHLY doubt it.

So our heroes are off to the Nasca lines of having gotten there with the help of a shady pilot... instead of you know.. porting there.. but given the Nazca Lines are best seen from air according to wikipedia and best shown off that way, as well as the fact it’s revealed you can enter the realm the creatures represented in the lines inhabit via plunging into it, it does make sense. She could’ve TOLD them all this before going but this is one of her off days. The Nazca Lines are a real life set of geoglypys that look really damn cool, and show up in all sorts of works, the two off the top of my head are Mega Man Starforce 2 where their used as the basis for the villians, and Yu-Gi-Oh! 5ds, where there used for the basis for the earthbound immortals.. also villians, a series of powerful and evil gods, and naturally represented by cards, that bring people back from the dead to serve as their avatars, known as the dark signers.

As you can see they also look really fucking awesome. Sadly I have not had a deck with them as I haven’t really thought about it and you need a field spell to keep them alive, but still good stuff. Really need to watch that arc in full some day.

Point is the plane starts to fall apart because the pilot swindled them, or rather Jose, and they have to jump without a parachute as there’s only one. Xandra of course leaps first forgetting her friends don’t have god strength or durability and will just go squish if her logic doesn’t pan out. Panchito naturally leaps without thinking and Jose decides why not and sky captain and the crappy plane he bought for 5 bucks decides to snatch the parachute so Donald’s forced to leap. It does work though and we do get one of the best parts of the series thus far: our heroes are drawn in chalk which is beautiuflly animated and a really creative idea. Granted the magic chalk thing dosen’t make a LOT of sense given the lines are carved in.. but at the same time we’re talking about three talking birds and a goddess chasing after an overweight one percenter, his talking staff and said talking staff’s son/lover/donkeybatmonkeyrat. Exact accuracy to real life can be waved just a smidge. Point is they find Mono, a monkey and one of the guardians of the lines, who Feldrake apparently trapped, though Xandra is suspcious. NOW, after their already in the trap basically.

But yeah Mono tells them Feldrake is going after the Nazca Gyroscope, a device at the center of the earth that keeps the earth orbiting the sun.

Point is our heroes have to stop him though Xandra is again suspcious as Feldrake wants to conquer the world not destroy it.... forgetting the whole lava lizard scheme... just.. seriously what was his plan there. rule over a pile of ashes.. actually given Feldrake’s competence and intellegence so far. that’s probably exactly it. Why is Sheldgoose the one getting called fool a lot again?

So we get another really stellar Musical Number, draw the line as our heroes progress through the Nazca world. Also I forgot to mention but earlier, in a nice bit of setup, we set up both that jose is a talented artist, which comes in handy here, while donald struggles and doubts himself. Can.. .can relate. Say that a lot but REALLY can relate. They end this wonderful song easing on down the road while our villians watcht hem.. instead of you know going ahead up and erasing them as is their plan.

Meanwhile, the trips sneak into Sheldgooses mansion trying to find some sort of evil scheme or lair or some clue they can use. But instead june, looking for some secret in the money vault, instead is caught by security so a chase insues and our heroines spend the episode barely outrunning the security dogs.. who SHeldgoose apparently raised.

Don’t.. DON’T want to think about THAT any longer than I have to. Point is they find Feldrake’s hidden lair we saw in the second episode where Sheldgoose found the staff. Not bad stuff, just really not something I need to spend an hour recapping.

So our heroes continue along encountering Hanzy, another guardian with giant hands who they free from a finger trap.. and her reasoning is both adorable and chucklesome, as Sheldgoose, having a piece of the chalk, drew a finger trap and never having had one in her size she just had to try it. So the party gains another member as they tread carefully past the spider, the final guardian and one who will eat them without a second thought. With that they reach the gyroscope.. and Mono turns on the cabs revealing Sheldgoose tricked him into thinking they were the bad guys and this is naturally a trap. And that is part of the episodes problem: the tension from “well their walking straight into a trap” is kinda.. nonexistant. OUr heroes ran in blind, and even when suspicious in the liens being on their guard amounts to nothing and we know from last episode this is a trap. It’s one thing to have a plan turn out to be a trap for the heroes or for the villians, as we’ll see later this week, that’s fine.. but either the audience isn't aware or there’s general tension from our heroes not knowing. Here there’s none of that.

So our heroes are trapped in a cage while Sheldgoose and Feldrake head up top to erase them, as if their drawings on hte line, the way they came in are erased so are they. It’s a good plan.. and the tension is dissipated again as hanzy just casually tosses the cage off, mono apologizes and our heroes use the chalk to draw themselves flying machines, with Donald only having a balloon and a basket. Comedic gold. Despite once again any dramatic tension this episode evaporating like ..t ears in the rain? I dunno I don’t have a metaphor that works here. Despite this the race is genuinely thrilling with sheldgoose busting out a shark rocket launcher since neither Feldrake nor Xandra’s magic work in the lines. Nice touch by the way. But he runs out of chalk (”You should’ve learned how to conserve space!”) though our villians reach the exit first by unleashing the spider, who Jose tries to smooth talk into not eating them.. and Donald, like me afriad of spiders, iconically shouting “KILL IT, KILL IT WITH FIRE!”

The heels erase Hansy, which is genuinely sad. Our heroes do escape in time though before he can get them and while Feldrake makes a speech in an awesome moment, Xandra just.. ignores it and fills him full of arrows.. well the g rated equilvent about that, I don’t think any of us want to see Wayne Knight bleed buckets. I”m still not over that scene from Jurassic Park where we saw nothing but I imagined it all right.. I.. imagined it *shudders*

So i’m scared for life but our heroes are free and revive hanzy with the chalk and we get a really sweet payoff to Donald’s trouble drawing as his new finger for her is a bit crooked but she loves it. It shows even if your art isn’t as good as other people’s it’s still worth something. A nice message. Feldrake once again berates Sheldgoose who points out the cabs can escape death again and again... giving Feldrake the idea to go talk to death personally. And yeah these teases... while I get this series was made for streaming.. they keep hurting the story slightly like they did here. Though I will give them credit this one.. ends up ratcheting up the tension next time so props.

Final thoughts on Nazca Racing: This one was decent. The animation was gorgeous and always the jokes were top notch, and the subplot was a nice opportunity for the triplets to take the stage and have an adventure.. but the plot banks a lot on our heroes walking into a very obvious trap and that just sours things for me. Still it’s not a bad episode like “World Tree Caballeros” or “No Man is an Easter Island” for the reasons stated above. And there was no daisy for an episode so while I badly wanted to find out how she’d react to the events last episode, we also got a break from her being bitchzilla, queen of monsters for an episode.. for an episode. “Sigh”

Mexico-A-Go-Go:

Okay back on form. Our heroes return home to find.. a conspiracy board all around the house.

Sadly it’s not that but it turns out the girls haven’t slept since the mansion and while Donald objects to their breaking and entering, they soon reveal what htey found: The Sheldgooses have all been linked to eveyr major disaster over the centuries... ever since Feldrake, who we see as a mortal for the first time, holding his OWN book as a counterpart to the heroes. They also uncovered a connection to Clinton coot and the sheldgooses but don’t have time to elaborate before Donald waves them off to check his messages. Unsurprisingly it’s Daisy who says “In light of recent events” i.e. you know seeing Donald’s friend save her life, dapper abandon her and seeing donald fight an evil sorcerer and wrangle a bear, to give him one more second chance.

Yeah i’ve spent a good chunk of this series complaining about Daisy.. and given she appears in the final two episodes i’m probably not finished. But this is just.. wow. So now she KNOWS, if not all the details that Donald and his friends are entangled in something big and scary, that involves a lives bear and actual fucking magic, so that his ducking out on her last time was NOT him being irresponsible or going to hang with his pals or something stupid, but probably something pretty important, she’s not fully aware of everything but she’s aware ENOUGH to know Donald really is making something of himself or at least is trying and really didn’t mean to mistreat her.. and she STILL is giving him fucking ultimatums!

I just.. i’m so done with this whole fucking subplot. All of it. Not just Daisy, Donald constnatly having a moan about loosing her and whining about going on missions to save the world instead of keeping this ungrateful, bossy, self esteem shattering, shrill, selfish, gold digging, impossibly high stand’s keeping big gulp full of bitch.

Donald.. buddy YOU CAN DO BETTER. Xandra’s right there and even if she’s not interested there’s a WHOLE TOWN of rich, eligible ladies. Go woo one of them! it’s hard getting out there, believe me I know, it’s VERY hard and i’ll probably die alone.. but your a good man, you have good friends. Friends who’ve screwed up yes but good friends to wingman and wingwoman for you. Just... leave Daisy behind. It’s not good for your mental health to keep bending over backwards for someone who wants you to be something you’ll NEVER be. Who wants someone sophisticated and with a steady job.. and the latter part’s never going to happen now your a Caballero, and given that’s more important.. good! If she can’t see what you do or won’t take the time to fucking listen... MOVE. ON. I know moving on’s hard but you have to. For your own health. Staying stuck in place over a person just hurts you and them.

And as for Daisy.. this is easily the worst version of the character. And I went into this FULLY KNOWING this version was bad, FULLY KNOWING she was going to be grating and some of the things she’d pull like Dapper thanks to spoilers. It’s why I held off watching this for so long.. and turns out while it was worth it, the series is quite good, my fears were JUSTIFIED and no amount of reading it could prepare me for how terribly written and horribly damaging this all is. And I do mean damaging: Kids pick things up from media. And while I should’ve caught on sooner, can’t fully blame a cartoon, I did as a kid and teen get my idea of romance from cartoons and tv and thus got the idea that pining after someone in secret was okay and they’ll come around eventually and starring at them and what not is entirely fine and not creepy. Of course it isn’t, of coure you have to say something, and of course you have to let it go if there with someone else. I know that NOW, and there have been much better geek gets the girl plots. .but it still seriously fucked with my autistic brain’s view on friendships with women, something I still struggle with at times. And that’s why I take this shit seriously: Because while thankfully I never bought into THAT , shit where “it’s okay if it’s a WOMAN, abusing a MAN”. Men can be abused to. It’s why we had SO SO MANY unfunny stalker characters in the 2000′s, and so many plots like this where the guy is wrong.. because h’es male and his partner being domineering and expecting him to change everything without doing anything for them or treating them as an equal.. is just not okay. And it speaks to a bigger problem.. out of touch writers who assume because THEIR wives are only with them out of obligation that’s how ALL relatoinships work, when no it’s not get a divorced please god. The Duckverse REALLY doesn’t need this According to Jim, My Wife and Kids, George Lopez, Home Improvement, Cleveland Show, King of Queens, Dinosaurs, Rick and Morty, Glen Martin DDS, etc all bullshit. People break up and Donald deserves better. And I genuinely blame both EP Matt Daner and Tony Anselmo for this. And I have a LOT of respect for both guys, i’ve made that very clear.. but Matt as EP and thus the one in charge fo the overall storyline is clearly the one who thought of this and Tony, who helped write for Donald this series, didn’t either get Tress, whose been doing daisy for two decades and is as knolwedgle for her as he is for donald the same courtsey or chime in given he should know daisy better. Both of these men should know better. Danner wrote for Xiaolin Showdown, that had great female characters for the most part and Tony is a grown ass man whose worked with women and is married as far as I know. Figure it out. This Daisy thing has EASILY been the worst part of this retrospective as a whole, the worst part of this series and probably the worst thing i’ve seen in a duck property.. and again I saw daisy ACTUALLY HIT DONALD.

And this is worse. Because instead of one moment of terrible writing and misplaced slapstick that comes off as abuse, it’s just a constnat barage of emotoinal abuse treated as if i’ts DONALD’S fault. Donald did nothing wrong to her and his only crime is obessing of this hellspawned hardian. Fuck this entire plot with a garden rake lined with acid.

Also just a quick note before we speed through Daisy’s screentime to get to the good part of the episode, there’s, at least no yet NO proper reaction to Donald’s new life and it bothers me it bothers me a lot. She learns he has this whole secret life and has no fucking questions just more of the same old bullshit. “SIGH”

So yeah this b-plot: Donald wants to stay for Daisy

And the others drag him along though this time.. Donald comes off as the asshole because he KNOWS they need him, knows he’s useful and knows this is more important but drags his feet anyway for someone who again, has done NOTHING good for him. And even with the girls saying the’ll help and telling him to keep the mirror handy, he still keeps complaning up until the plans reveaeld.

The plan, which.. May I think, the orange one. I know June is purple, but while May isn’t on board for this, the plan is to have April and June do the totoem pole trench and have donald be the face. So the entire plan is basically this

They have an actually nice date till the ruse is revealed, and while he says “I can explain” which he can.. she PUNCHES the mirrror saying explain this.

So our heroes need to go to Mexico, Panchito’s homeland and somehow, in a series based on and starring primarily south american characters... one of the two times we visit the region and the only time we visit one of the cabs two home countries. Now the latter part i’m fair on since they were likely saving Brazil for the season 2 that never happened and didn’t want to blow their load just yet. The other part.. not so much. I’m not saying set the entire series there, there’s a lot of world, but most of the locations aside from the world tree are pretty common for globetrotting adventure: Easter Island, Stonehenge, Mt. Rushmore, The Pyramids, the Moon, and coming up Camelot and Shangri La. These aren’t BAD settings mind and are used creatively and probably will be in the two I haven’t seen, and the setups involving king arthur and a yeti spa do sound like they wont’ dispoint, but you had a real opportunity to teach kids, and my grown man self, about South America and ya blew it.

But we’re in Mexico where after meeting a spooky cloaked guy who says they might not leave alive

So our heroes enter the temple and the other side and find a bunch of chickens who see Panchito, who insisted on the trip due to his luchadores code of always helping the incident, as a god and their chosen champion for the goddess of light as the preistess explains. So we get a montage of Panchito getting pampred while the other cabs get pushed around, ending at a restraunt. Xandra is naturally suspcious as the locals are being AWFUL vauge about what’s going on here, and this is getting pretty midsomar. Donald is distracted by daisy and Jose is distracted by a beautiful senorita, leaving Xandra to TRY and get panchito to think.. before being distracted herself by a mysterious handsome latino gentleman in black. Though during the dance with thier respective partners, Xandra and Jose both remark that it’s weird.. but are distracted by the sexy long enough for it to be revealed what Panchito’s duty is: as the champion of life.. he has to fight the champion of death. No Prize for guessing who. Though unlike with “Nazca Racing” where the teaser removed all tension since we knew it was a trap, here the teaser last episode helps, as we don’t see Team Feldrake till this moment, and we know something involving death itself.. and finding out panchtio’s representing life just ratchets up tension: we know the bad guys are involved.. but we don’t know how or what they’ll do.

And the how is simple: A one on one wrasslin match!

Or lucha match since we Panchito’s a luchador and we’re in mexico. He’s wearing his usual outfit while Sheldgoose is wearing standard wrestling tights.. so a superstar babyface versus a heel comentator... but actually entertaining this time. As you can tell I love wrestling. While i’m more of a casual fan, I watch OSW and some other wrestling youtubes and don’t really watch the product at the moment, I do love and respect the sport and love a good wrestling episode or series of television as a result, so this hits the spot.

So the match goes on and Panchito has the clear lead as Sheldgoose is playing by college wrestling rules and Panchito is playing by pro wrestling rules. And while you can use standard holds well you gotta mix the two together kurt angle style. Eventually Xandra decides to confront the sexy bird and sexy boy, and finds out, in a twist I didn’t see coming they ARE the god of life and god of death, respectively. While I knew this was a fight to the death, as death explains, a symbolic battle between the two with real stakes to keep ballance, I thought these two were just illusions brought up to keep Xandra and Jose from leaving or digging deeper. Instead they were just doing it on their own and as the god of death shows, they were genuinely intrested. I mean... why not get some while preparing to have your champions do battle. God for you death god, multitasking like that. Same for you goddess of life. Get it girl, you get after it. Jose is a fine man. I’d tap that if I could. Get after it. So Xandra warns Panchito who finds taking life against his code and Jose again shows his awesomeness by pointing out the obvious: the match is timed, so if they run out the clock it’s a draw. Might lead to something but it’s better than nothing. So Panchito TRIES this, but Sheldgoose has leopold “Throw mommy to daddy” (One of my faviorite gags of the episode), and wacks him with feldrake before the whole thing becomes a brawl. And the god of Death does not take DQ’s or outside intefernce well and instead kills them all for breaking the rules.

Not kidding. The main cast is DEAD minus Xandra, as Death still wanted to bone her, but she refuses. So now Xandra is left while al lher friends are dead while the god and goddess head off in his caddy to go knock over mailboxes I guess.

Final Thoughts on Mexico-A-Go-Go: Outside of .. certain parties, this was a REALLY fun one, with a great wrestling theme, a great mystery and the awesomeness that was the god of death, who was smooth, cool and thoroughly interesting and I wish there was a second season and his and xandra’s dynamic was really interesting. One of the series best, helped by the fact the Daisy bit while thoroughly irritating, was religated to a pretty funny subplot, with May being understandably skeptical of the plan, it somehow working and the sheer redicuonsess. It dosen’t make daisy tolerable, but it makes the episode better.

#the legend of the three caballeros #donald duck #jose caricoca #panchito romero miguel junipero francisco quintero gonzalez #panchito pistoles #xandra goddess of adventure #april duck #may duck #june duck #humphrey the bear #the arcuan bird #ari #baron von sheldgoose #lord sheldrake #ride of the three caballeros #the three caballeros #ducktales #donsy

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nobodyfamousposts · 5 years

Text

Gabriel’s Lament

Posting this here in reference to the previous ask, and because I apparently neglected to do so before.

________________________________

Be careful what you wish for. Wasn’t that the old saying? He hadn’t considered it before—never bothered to in the face of his wish. Because how could saving someone so wonderful and pure be a poor choice? How could acting out of love be wrong?

He had gotten his wish and seemed all the better for it. His wife was alive and by his side. His son was safe and had no secret life as a superhero nearly getting himself killed on a regular basis. And with his family whole and as it should be, Gabriel had no need to become a villain. He had no need for any Miraculous. As such, he had no concern that the Butterfly Miraculous was no longer in his possession—and may not have fallen into his possession in the first place. He had no need for it, after all. His wish was granted, his life was complete, and he finally felt satisfaction.

He was able to maintain that satisfaction for two months before it all started to fall apart.

A super villain appeared. One with the ability to turn people into monsters. One bearing the symbol of a butterfly. One calling himself Hawk Moth.

Only it wasn’t Gabriel.

He should have acted sooner. He should have thought things through. He had been too caught up in his own happiness that he hadn’t considered the full effects of the changes.

He got what he wanted. But it didn’t stay that way.

His wife was alive, but he was constantly at risk of losing her again with each time she tried to resolve the latest upset. Since she didn’t suffer her previous fate, she remained a hero and was regularly putting herself in danger to fight akumas that were no longer at his command.

His son wasn’t Chat Noir, which he had initially found relief in. But without the protection of the Miraculous, Adrien was more susceptible than Gabriel had realized, and he was now terrorizing Paris as an akuma under the mask of Chat Blanc while his wife desperately attempted to free him.

There was no Ladybug to hinder his plans, but now that they were complete, there was no Ladybug to save anyone and restore order either.

He no longer had the Butterfly Miraculous—or any Miraculous for that matter. He was forced to watch from the sidelines as his wife and son fought each other—completely incapable of doing anything and leaving him with a sense of powerlessness that he hadn’t felt since losing Emilie the first time.

He thought he had won. He HAD won. He had finally gained both Miraculous and used their combined power to complete his one goal. After all of that effort, after all that heartache, he thought that was the end of it. But it’s never that easy, is it? He’d gotten his wish, but not how he wanted. This new life was a mess. His family was in tatters. He was helpless to act.

And the only thing worse was being stuck here with the cat.

“I can hear you, you know.”

God, he hated that cat.

“You’re not on my list of top favorite people either, buddy.”

The kwami was much different than Nooroo had been. It was snarky and all too eager to delight in his misfortune. Where Nooroo was gentle and submissive, this new kwami was more direct in its vocalization of disagreement with Gabriel’s choices and much more inclined to act if it didn’t like them. When it wasn’t causing chaos in its disruptions and so called ‘accidental bad luck’, it was being infuriatingly lazy—particularly when it came to finding a solution to this nightmare they were both trapped in. One would think the creature would care about its former holder.

“Funny.” The creature had snapped back at him. “I would have thought the same of you about your son.”

Gabriel held himself back from reacting. Less because the creature had a point and more because he knew full well that’s exactly what the little devil wanted and the last thing he needed was for someone to burst in out of concern only to find him seemingly yelling to himself.

Again.

________________________

When it had first appeared, he had hoped that the little kwami’s arrival was indicative that he would be granted a Miraculous he could use to try to rescue his son and save his family.

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA—OHMYGOD, OH MY GOD—AHAHA—YOU-YOU ACTUALLY THINK—HAHAHAHA—I MEAN, YOU? HAHAHAHAHEEHEEHAHA—OH MY GOD I CAN’T—AHAHA—I CAN’T BREATHEHEEHEEHEEHOO—HOO—hoo—”

Needless to say, that hope died rather quickly with the resulting boisterous laughter that was both needlessly exaggerated and gratuitous, leaving Gabriel glaring at the thing in increasing annoyance which did nothing to stifle its cries. If anything, it only got worse as it became loud enough to get his wife’s attention and nearly led to them both being caught had Gabriel not somehow convinced her it was just a phone call with an overly enthusiastic client.

The fact that the cat’s laughter didn’t stop until well after she left certainly didn’t help his first impression of the thing. Or his desire to shove it into a shoebox.

The fact that it wouldn’t leave him alone afterwards only compounded that.

He had come to learn a couple things after this less than pleasant initial meeting. That the little creature before him was, in fact, the Black Cat kwami. That its name was Plagg. And that it hated him.

A lot.

“You can stop laughing at any time.”

“Can’t. Heehee—not until it stops being funny.” It replied, wiping away a tear.

“This is hardly humorous!” Gabriel seethed.

It only continued to grin at him. “An egotistical screwball thinking I’d actually partner with him? That has to be the world’s best joke!” It gave another chuckle. “Thanks, I needed that laugh.”

Gabriel glowered.

“And if we’re being honest,” the little kwami added, rising from the fancy mahogany desk and lazily floating around Gabriel and ending at his impeccably quaft hair. “You wouldn’t look good in the suit anyway.”

Oh now that was just uncalled for.

As far as first meetings went, it was easily among the most aggravating—which seemed to be the intent. And it was only the beginning. What came to follow was by no means a partnership or indeed anything resembling an amiable relationship. For all that they should have been allies, their relationship was less than mutually beneficial and more than once did Gabriel question why he continued to host the damned thing.

Then he would have the unpleasant reminder shoved in his face (either by Plagg’s words or his own traitorous thoughts) that this was his fault in the first place and that he really had little choice in the matter.

It quickly became evident over the course of their interactions that the kwami remembered everything from prior to Gabriel’s wish. While that was fortunate in that it meant he wasn’t alone in his knowledge of the world being altered, that also meant that it knew full well that he was the one responsible. And the damn thing wasted every bit of time and effort it could to verbally lambast him for it as much as possible.

If the knowledge of what he had caused wouldn’t drive him to insanity, he was sure this creature would.

“I would be able to do more to fix this if you would just work with me.” Gabriel grumbled at one point, increasingly frustrated after multiple failures. And why wouldn’t he be? He had finally gained a glimpse of hope only to have it torn away by a vindictive little brat of a kwami.

The thing continued to chortle a bit although its laughter had finally gotten under control. “Even if I were inclined to help you—which I’m not, you would still need my Miraculous to do any good—which you don’t have.”

This gave him pause. “Where is the Black Cat Miraculous?” He had wondered but hadn’t chosen to ask before given the kwami’s blatant ire.

“With the new big bad. Why do you think I’m hiding out here?”

He stared in surprise. “You can leave your Miraculous?”

It shrugged, uncaring. “We’re not supposed to, but yeah. Got any cheese?”

Stunned and somewhat overwhelmed by the strange turn this entire situation had taken, Gabriel numbly paged his assistant for some cheese—vaguely realizing that the little black thing taking up residence on his desk had apparently been the cause of his son’s sudden and rather bizarre requests for Camembert. Things were starting to make more sense now, except that it was only after all of it ceased to matter.

That was how he had come to be the reluctant caretaker of a similarly reluctant but much more antagonistic kwami. Keeping it hidden was difficult enough. Keeping it appeased so it wouldn’t do anything foolish to undermine his attempts to hide it was even more so.

He had hoped to have an ally in resolving this mess—even if it did not come with a Miraculous he could use. Instead, he found himself carrying more of a millstone quite intent on being dropped on his foot even to its own detriment. It would not speak to him if it could help it, and even on the occasions where it did (usually only after multiple offerings of its favored and horribly expensive cheeses), it offered nothing useful—simply more scathing remarks and less than helpful commentary on his failings.

And there were many more of those than he would like.

The kwami, on its end, seemed to care very little about Gabriel’s disappointment or even the situation in general as it continued to gorge itself on the disgusting cheese he had been forced to order for it just to get it to even talk to him. When it wasn’t eating, it would either ignore him or meddle in his attempts to keep some semblance of normalcy in his life.

And such was how the time passed.

________________________

“Can’t you tell me anything?”

“No.”

________________________

“Would you just tell me?”

“Still no.”

________________________

“How about a trade?”

“Camembert for information?”

“Yes!”

“No.”

________________________

“What will it take?”

“Not for all the cheese in Wisconsin.”

________________________

“Fine! Then I will handle this situation myself!”

“Yeah, because you’ve done a great job of that so far.” It replied with a roll of its eyes before it went back to its nap.

________________________

The kwami raised an eyebrow as Gabriel entered the room with a black eye.

“How’s progress on the whole ‘handling the situation yourself’ plan going?”

“Shut up.”

________________________

“Aren’t you supposed to be out there?”

“Emilie didn’t want me to be involved.”

“So?”

“She locked me in the house.”

It fell to the desk and started rolling around in laughter.

________________________

It takes a lot to force Gabriel to drink.

“Well, it could be worse. Your wife could divorce you and take your kid with her, though from the looks of it, that possibility isn’t off the table just yet.”

“Surprisingly enough,” Gabriel growled, “this isn’t helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to be helpful.”

This is enough to call for another bottle.

________________________

“…”

“…So…?”

“Not. One. Word.”

________________________

Another day, another failure. His wife had survived another skirmish, but had come no closer to saving their son. Her being unaware of his knowledge of her identity only hindered his own attempts to aid her or his work to rescue their son. She was so concerned for getting him out of the conflict that neither of them had been able to effectively act to the best of their ability. The two of them ended up unintentionally impeding one another as he attempted to reach his son while Emilie was trying to purify him.

He had been so close, though. Close enough to try to talk to Adrien for all of a few minutes at least. But if anything, that only made the situation worse and Gabriel was regretting acting so rashly as to attempt to confront him directly.

On his own, Chat Blanc was confident and mischievous, acting out of a juvenile and destructive sense of “fun”. But as soon as Gabriel made his appearance to try to appeal to him, his attitude had completely changed. And the longer he remained, the more unsettled the boy appeared to become. He had thought at the time he was making progress, but things quickly escalated despite Gabriel’s attempts to calm him as Chat Blanc became more incensed and his ferociousness increased. It was as though the boy lost all rational thought—hissing and spitting much like the creature for which he was named.

He had expected some anger or aggression—an akuma was the emotional state made physical, after all. But he had never expected Adrien would ever raise a hand to him, yet here he was, covered in bruises and nursing the headache that came with colliding with the ground when the boy finally had enough and literally threw him into a billboard featuring his own fashion line.

Gabriel groaned, covering his face in his hands and trying to mind the growing bruises. “This is a disaster.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Came the caustic reply he really should have known to expect by now. No sympathy, of course. The damned thing wasn’t capable of it.

“So there was a miscalculation—”

“MISCALCULATION, he says!” It barked out with a laugh. “Did somehow the whole ‘godlike powers’ not work out as you expected?”

He tensed, anger coursing through him. “I had no way of knowing this would happen! The Miraculous didn’t come with instructions!”

It crossed its arms, clearly not buying his claim. “They came with kwami! Who told you not to do it! You even had an entire freaking instruction manual detailing what would happen! The only thing you DIDN’T have was the common sense to figure out why messing with the laws of nature would be a bad idea!”

It wasn't wrong, though that didn't stop Gabriel from wanting to throttle it. However, he needed information, not an argument. So it seemed Gabriel would have to attempt to be the rational one here. “I know you’re unhappy with me.”

“Unhappy is putting it mildly.” It said with a huff.

“And I understand why.”

If looks could kill, Gabriel was certain he would have been dead a hundred times over from the creature's expression.

“No, I really don’t think you do. Because altering reality isn’t even beginning to touch the list of reasons why I despise you.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “And I suppose you’re going to be the one to tell me?”

“Would you listen if I tried?” It asked with a shrug before turning away from him to go back to nibbling on the cheese he was regretting to have ordered for it. If he’d believed the thing was capable of feelings beyond spite, he’d almost have said it sounded melancholy at that. Nothing further was said as it simply shrugged at any further inquiries and remained silent.

Attempts at conversation or any sort of legitimate answers or planning ended similarly. Usually with the kwami huffing and turning away like it had any right to be the one vexed by the situation.

Having gone through more than enough for one day, Gabriel chose to return to his own room for rest and left the creature to its petulant silence in his office.

________________________

More days. More attacks. Nothing changed and Gabriel would have been inclined to pull at his hair if he wasn’t already finding himself becoming depressingly used to the current state of things.

So this was what his life had come to. Stuck watching matters get progressively worse from the confines of his office where the only one he could talk about any of this to clearly hated him and would be all too happy to spend the days mocking him. It made him miss Nooroo, and not for the first time he wondered how the little kwami was doing under the new Hawk Moth.

Which begged a question.

“Where did Hawk Moth come from?”

“Well,” came the smarmy reply from the still very angry and in no way sympathetic black cat kwami, “When some asshole finds a Butterfly Miraculous and decides to be reeeeaaaaaaally stupid—”

Which begged the insight that he should perhaps stop trying to ask questions.

But he hadn’t gotten this far being ‘smart’, apparently.

“Where did this Hawk Moth come from?”

“What, you changed reality without thinking anything through and actually expected everything to be better? What kind of cotton candy dreamworld do you live in and where can I get a ticket there?”

Although even that would still involve insults.

“How is there a Hawk Moth at all in this new reality?” He rephrased. He had come to learn over time that while the kwami would needle him relentlessly given the opportunity, it would at least answer questions honestly—but only depending on how he asked. So he had to watch his wording and phrase things specifically to get a real answer, though even that would still take multiple attempts before it would relent and actually answer in any way appropriately.

“Isn’t it obvious? You never lost your wife, so you never went searching. Someone else was bound to get ahold of Nooroo eventually. You were just too lazy to follow up on that this time.”

“Do you at least know who it is?” If he can know the new Hawk Moth’s identity, he can target the other using non-magical means and hopefully help to end this situation all the sooner.

But the creature shook its head. “No clue. We kwami don’t automatically know who the other holders are. And now that my Miraculous is compromised, I can’t risk getting close enough to find out or else I’ll end up like Nooroo, and things are already bad enough as it is.”

“Then…why come here?”

Its eyes snapped up to glare at him. “I was trying to get back to my kid. But it looks like I was too late.”

He bristled at that. “He isn’t yours.” And Adrien never would be if Gabriel had any say in things.

“Isn’t he? I cared for him, consoled him, supported him, actually spent some fucking time with him—which is more than anyone can say for you!” The creature hissed back at him. “He’s more mine than he ever was yours!”

It floated up and jabbed a paw at his nose. “I stayed by his side through everything! When he was sad, when he was lonely, when he was scared or uncertain, I was there! When he was being attacked—by YOUR minions, I was the one who offered protection! I was the one who actually worked to keep him safe! And where were you?”

“I was trying to bring her back!” Gabriel shouted, taking a swipe at the damned thing because how dare it suggest he wasn’t there for his son!

“Don’t you even start trying to say you were doing it for him! You were trying to drag back the past instead of looking at the present!” It countered, spinning away from his reach and gesturing widely. “You went further than any rational person would—more than anyone SHOULD, looking into magic and fairy tales you didn’t know were actually true for an answer to get back someone who was gone while completely ignoring the people you still had!” It turned back on him, making Gabriel jump. “Your wife was gone, but your son was still there! He was always right there behind you, just waiting for any scrap of affection from you! So he waited and he worked, only to be disappointed time and again. But he still kept holding on to that hope and trying to earn your acknowledgement—more than anyone should have had to and certainly more than you deserved!”

It shook its head, glaring at Gabriel in sheer disappointment. “It’s no wonder he was akumatized this time around! If one good thing came out of this new timeline, it’s that he’s finally had enough of your treatment.”

How dare he? To question Gabriel’s parenting and his devotion to his family? “I did what I had to! And he wasn’t an akuma last time!” He huffed, angrily.

“Sure wasn’t.” It agreed, flippantly. “But things were actually better over there, so…”

This gave Gabriel pause, drawing his focus back to the main issue at hand. “So how could the events vary so drastically but still be the same?”

“Wibbly-wobbly timey-whimey.”

He drew back in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

“Wait—you mean that’s not a thing here?” It asked in surprise, only growing more vexed and pointed at him threateningly. “Oh, heaven help you if your screw up did anything to ruin that series!”

Now he was completely lost. “What series?”

“You know. That series? The one your son used to like before he was TURNED INTO AN AKUMA!”

“Enough! A television series is not relevant here!”

“Your son being an akuma is!”

“And I am trying to fix that and make things right!”

“No, you’re only trying to clear away a portion of the mess you’ve made so you don’t have to deal with it! If it weren’t for the fact that this is affecting you directly because of your wife and kid, you wouldn’t even be discussing this right now!” It shouted, throwing up its arms in frustration.

Gabriel slammed a fist on his desk, sending a tablet clattering to the floor though he ignored it in favor of the irritant before him. “They’re the only reason I even did this in the first place!”

“And look how that turned out! You prevented yourself from losing them one way only to risk losing them another!”

“And what would you do then?!” Gabriel demanded, growing frustrated and desperate to end this conversation if nothing else.

It only gave him a look like it thought he was an idiot—which he had no doubt it likely did. “Your wife is a Miraculous user. You know she’s a Miraculous user. Tell her what’s going on!”

This actually took Gabriel aback. A simple answer, and yet one he had not previously explored. One he had not wanted to. Emilie loved him, and like him would do anything for family. But if she knew…

“And say what?” The fashion mogul uttered in a defeated tone.

“The truth.” It responded. He could almost hear the ‘duh’, like it should have been obvious.

In retrospect, maybe it should have been.

Gabriel froze, actually uncertain for the first time. His analytical mind plotting out the possible course of events that could follow.

It was the most straight forward solution, clearly. If Emilie knew he knew about the Miraculous and her involvement, they could work together instead of clashing when they each try to act. Emilie was distracted in the conflict because he kept getting in the way. He was similarly distracted when trying to act on his own because he was so fearful of her finding out.

But that brought back the matter of why he did not want her to know.

A mother would die for her son. But to find out that he did this—caused their son to become this just to save her?

He wasn’t sure she would forgive him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to in her shoes.

“I can’t.”

Plagg frowned at that, but didn’t seem surprised. “These things have a tendency of getting out, and you’re far from subtle—about as subtle as a brick to the face.”

Gabriel sighed and leaned back, resting his head on the back of his chair, but didn’t comment.

________________________

Time passed and animosity remained. At the very least, the stodgy silence was diminished. Gabriel continued with his paltry efforts to little effect. But at the very least, his unwilling companion had ceased to endlessly mock him for them. With each day that went by with no change, it grow more weary. If Gabriel had believed it capable of feelings, he would have thought it to be concerned.

A thought occurred to Gabriel at one point as he was overlooking the latest news report about the heroes facing yet another akuma. They were different heroes from the Ladybug and Chat Noir of before, but there were still two of them and the akuma they fought appeared familiar to him.

This gave him pause and made him stop to consider something he hadn’t before.

“Why did things turn out this way?”

“You mean besides the obvious?” It shot back before taking another nibble of the Camembert.

“No, this is serious.” Gabriel frowned at it, pointing to the screen. “This is a new reality. New Hawk Moth. New heroes. But for all that things should be different, they’re still somehow the same.” He had heard the saying the more things change the more they stay the same, but that couldn’t the case, could it?

To his surprise, it actually put the cheese down and turned to face him from its seat on his desk. “You knew there would have to be a balance.”

“Yes, I was aware—”

“No, clearly you weren’t. Did you really think people could be traded so easily? That it’d be as simple as your wife being restored to life in exchange for some random stranger you’ve never met and won’t have to deal with the fallout from? No! No, no no! It’s hardly that self-contained!” It scoffed with a shake of its head. “See, the universe likes balance and hates it when people try to mess with that balance because they think they know better. But balance isn’t just about the number of lives or the perceived importance of individuals to a single person—that’s much too small minded.”

At his look of surprise, the kwami floated up until it was eye level with him before continuing, gesturing widely with its paws for emphasis.

“It’s the series of events, the roles people play, the overall impact! It wouldn’t be enough for you to switch someone else’s life for hers and have that be the end of it where you’re happy, they’re sad, and everyone simply has to deal with that. Because it wasn’t just one life that was traded, it was how everyone else was affected by that life as well! The missing wife, the grieving husband who turns to villainy, the heroes who step forth to stop him, and all the shenanigans and drama that arise from the ensuing conflict between them! You know, the good ole status quo!”

It did make a strange, twisted sort of sense. Though he hardly wanted to admit the cat was right, he had indeed believed it would be a simple matter of reviving his wife with no other effects. He hadn’t even been aware another life would be taken, and honestly, would hardly have cared even if he had known.

Seeing that it had his attention, it continued. “Why do you think we try so hard to prevent anyone from doing it? It’s because it becomes a cycle of continuous world-changing that alters reality as we know it while never actually resolving anything! No solution is made! Nothing moves forward! And it’s a major pain to be stuck living the same year over and over regardless of any changes made to it that are actually pretty damn minor in the wake of an eternal time loop!”

“So there is still a Hawk Moth.” Gabriel asked, turning away from the annoyance to his desk to glance through the book he fortunately managed to retain possession of through the change.

“Yeeeeees.” Came the annoyed drawl of one who was dealing with someone abnormally slow.

He dutifully chose to ignore it. “But because I wasn’t the one to lose anyone and go searching for the Miraculous, it’s not me.”

The cat rolled its eyes and settled down on the edge of the desk where the cheese was still waiting. “Given that your hideout is missing and some other lunatic is making akumas without your input, I’m gonna guess you’re not.”

Gabriel ignored the sarcasm and smell of cheese as he flipped through the pages of the book until it settled on one in particular—the Fox, if he was accurate. He needed to focus and work this out if he was going to be able to come up with a suitable plan. And right now, he needed to clarify the full extent of the changes. “And there are still heroes.”

“Obviously."

“But they aren’t Chat Noir and Ladybug.”

“Clearly they aren’t.”

“Nor are they Adrien or his former partner.”

“Them either.”

“But why?”

Plagg shrugged. “Different circumstances lead to different choices. I can’t speak for the girl who was Ladybug, but your kid was chosen after he escaped your suffocating and overall horribly misplaced sense of overprotection. If dead mom wasn’t dead, he may not have had reason to do that.”

So he had affected more than he thought in regards to his son’s destiny and prevented him from becoming a Miraculous user. He wanted to be pleased to have spared his child that stress and pain, but the fact that this led to him becoming akumatized instead gave him very little to be happy about among everything else going wrong with this situation.

“Then why are there different Miraculous active as heroes instead of the Black Cat and Ladybug?”

Here, the cat kwami sent him a dry look. “Part of it may have to do with the fact that since a certain someone used our combined powers to alter all of reality, we’re pretty drained and far from in the best condition to try to fight or use any of our powers to prevent someone else from doing the same. Guess who we have to thank for that.”

Gabriel was hardly impressed. “And yet you’re here.”

“Not by choice, mind you.” It sniped before taking a bite of the cheese. Clearly it was a petulant little demon.

“You’re active.” Gabriel reiterated. “You’re not dormant and sleeping in your ring.”

“Wish I was, but with the ring being part of an akuma right now, that wouldn’t be wise."

“But you’re able to help that.” As much of an irritation as the creature was choosing to be, it said something that it was able to be active and had been able to abandon its Miraculous. Though why it chose to come to him of all people if it hated him so much was a question all its own.

“You should be grateful. If I wasn’t, Chat Blanc would be an unstable self-destructive mess instead of simply Hawk Moth’s favorite lackey at this point.”

For the sake of his own sanity, the father had to try very very hard not to think further on that.

“So how are you active if you are so drained?”

For once, the small cat creature actually appeared pensive instead of looking like it wanted to tear Gabriel’s head off. “Tikki took the brunt of it.”

“Tikki?” How curious. That was not a name he’s heard yet. “Is that the Ladybug Kwami?”

The smaller being didn’t answer, merely turning away and giving every indication that he didn’t want to speak further. Unfortunately, this discussion was not over and Gabriel needed more information if he was going to be able to take any steps from here.

“Why is Adrien an akuma?”

“You mean besides the fact that his father is a horrible excuse for a person?"

“You know what I mean.”

“And you know I’m angry with you and not feeling sensitive to your needs.”

“This is important.”

“So is my mealtime.”

Gabriel sighed and set down yet another container of that blasted product the thing so enjoyed.

“Now then, let’s try this again. Why is Adrien an akuma?”

“Akumas still function the same.” It stated as it popped a piece of the cheese into its gaping mouth. “He got upset and one was attracted to him. That is kind of what akumas do.”

“How is Adrien an akuma when he’s Chat Noir?”

“Should be plain to see. He wasn’t a Miraculous wielder this time around—for obvious reasons.” Here he shot a knowing glare that Gabriel chose not to respond to. “So no, he’s not technically Chat Noir, and no Chat Noir means there was nothing to protect him from the new Hawk Moth.”

“That doesn’t explain how he is still an akuma. It has been over a month and he is still Chat Blanc. None of my akumas ever lasted more than a day.”

“Does that say more about the heroes or you?”

“Just answer the question!”

Plagg rolled its eyes. “The shorter answer is that the balance of the universe means the plot has to stay the same and the roles still have to exist despite the switch in players. Only problem is—other than morals and time/space shenanigans—just because new people have been stuck with these roles doesn’t mean they’ll be nearly as good at them. Or as bad in the case of the new Hawk Moth given that he’s already one Miraculous away from rewriting the world a second time when it took you over a year to even get that far.”

“I am well aware of that issue, thank you.” Gabriel bit out through gritted teeth.

“Really? You sure? Because I’m sure I could put together a slide show if you need me to.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Or a puppet show, since that seems more up your alley.”

“Enough!”

“Hey, I don’t judge.”

He absolutely does, the little devil.

Nooroo had been passive. Quiet, skittish, and eager to placate Gabriel in the midst of his many failures. He had been downright pleasant in comparison to this.

It, in true cat fashion, ignored his growing ire and continued. “This time, we’re in a reality where someone competent is Hawk Moth.”

“I was—”

“I said someone competent!”

Gabriel frowned at the insult but still mulled over the rest of the kwami's words. For all that it may have had a point, there was something off.

It couldn’t be enough that there was simply a different Hawk Moth. His various akumas had managed to bring all of Paris to its knees. He’d come close to success multiple times. The public was easily cowed. The police weren’t even a speed bump to his goals. There was not even so much as an obstacle to his takeover. Even without the Miraculous, there had been plenty of akumas that had successfully gotten him control of the city. Nothing ever seemed to truly stand in his way.

Nothing except—

That’s when it hit him.

“Ladybug…"

His eyes widened. Of course! Why hadn’t he considered it before?

His multitude of attempts in his time as Hawk Moth were always subverted—not because of himself or Chat Noir or circumstances, but because of the girl who was Ladybug. She had been the central cause of the failure of his plans back then. With nothing more than a random object summoned by her creation powers, she was able to defeat his warriors time and again. She was the one who constantly restored the city to normal and undid any of the damage caused. If she was active now, it could change everything!

“Ladybug!”

The cat blinked up at him. “Eh?”

“That’s it! That’s the solution!” Gabriel exclaimed. “It’s Ladybug!”

“Right away, no.” Immediately it realized what his ‘solution’ entailed and tried to nix that line of thinking.

“Every time! Every plan, every akuma, every attempt—it was HER!”

“Stop this. Stop this right now.”

“If I can just find her—”

“She’s not Ladybug anymore!” The cat tried to insist nearly in a panic. “You won! She lost! She doesn’t have her Miraculous anymore and none of her memories or experience carried over with her!”

The creature flew up right to his face, jabbing angrily at his nose. “If you go after her, she’s just going to be a normal girl.”

“She was a normal girl before as well. She became something greater. She can again.”

“Let me reiterate: a normal girl who is going to be freaked out that some stranger is coming after her wanting her to run around the city in a spandex suit with magical powers which—in case I have to remind you since I’m sure I do—SHE DOESN’T HAVE ANYMORE!”

“If Adrien still had his Miraculous, then it’s fully plausible that Ladybug may have retained hers as well!” Gabriel continued, ignoring Plagg’s outburst.

“Would you just listen for ONCE in your life!” It shouted at him in a desperation that actually gave him pause.

Seeing that it had his attention, it grabbed his cheeks and looked him straight in the eyes. “She’s not Ladybug anymore! She is just a scared girl trying to survive as best she can in a city constantly under siege!”

“She can change that!” Gabriel exclaimed as he pushed away from its hold to return to the book that had offered him so much insight.

Not to be deterred, the kwami flew down to sit right on top of the book and glared up at him, pointlessly continuing the argument when his mind was already set. “You don’t know that!”

How could he make it understand? Much to its annoyance, he lifted the creature from the book with one hand and used the other to turn to the page that featured the spotted heroine. "Ladybug is the bearer of all the powers of creation. If anyone can counter Chat Blanc's destructive nature, it would be her!"

The kwami forwent a response in favor of swiping at the hand holding it, forcing Gabriel to release it. But he was not to be deterred. Everything was right there, even if he couldn't read it completely, he knew this was the answer he had been seeking.

“Don't you see? The situation isn’t beyond salvaging!” He insisted, gesturing to the picture of the warrior on the page.

Unimpressed with his claim, it started ticking off claws as it counted. “Your son is an akuma. Ladybug is in no position physically or mentally to purify him. The current Hawk Moth has a tighter grip on the city than you ever managed, and seems particularly fond of using Chat Blanc as one of his top enforcers with very little intent to loosen that control. The ‘Situation’ as you call it is way past salvaging at this point!”

“But she can help!”

“And how exactly do you expect that to work, huh? Go around stalking a teenage girl, trying to convince her she’s a magical girl in another world with the power to make everything sunshine and rainbows?!”

“It would at least be a starting point!” He exclaimed, not willing to let go of perhaps the one decent plan he’s been able to turn to since this entire mess started. “As Ladybug, she is the greatest force to counter the akuma and the only one who can fully restore order! The entire reason I failed as much as I did in the previous timeline was because of her!”

“Yes, because it had absolutely nothing to do with you being an overall crappy villain. Or the fact that the very first thing you decided to do with a Miraculous was become a supervillain.”

He intently ignored the snipe. “There’s every likelihood that things wouldn’t be to the state they are now if she had still been one of the heroes this time around. She was the reason that Paris was able to function as well as it did with the constant attacks since she could undo any of the damage! She is what we need right now! You know that! If you could just tell me who she is—”

It turned away in a huff. “I’m bad with names.”

“I can bring you photos and you can point her out—”

“I’m bad with faces, too.”

Gabriel glared at the cat kwami. “You are going to be insufferable, aren’t you?”

Plagg glared right on back. “If you think this is what insufferable is, then clearly I have to up my game.”

“You know I’m right!”

“Whether you’re right or not,” the kwami hissed, not willing to in any way agree with the man, “the problem is that you think you’re entitled to this! You’re trying to play things again! Using people to fulfill your needs and obsessing over things you can’t change! Instead of moving on or going forward, you try to force your will on everything else to get the result you want even if it’s not healthy for anyone!”

Gabriel simply ignored him and left the room. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t need to hear this from some know it all magical creature with an axe to grind about his parenting.

________________________

So he attempted to locate the girl on his own. But without a current Ladybug being active, he had no leads. And he had little information to go on from what he knew prior to the change. He soon realized—or rather was forced to acknowledge that for all his current resources and efforts, he had absolutely no way of determining the identity of the girl who was once Ladybug in a world she no longer was. Too much had changed, and he was unable to reconcile anything he knew of the hero in the previous timeline to any specific individual in this new reality. If not for Plagg’s vague comments, he wouldn’t even be sure she was still alive.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was stuck. Not for the first time, he cursed his short sightedness and that he didn’t take steps to verify Ladybug’s identity when he finally obtained her Miraculous. Eventually, he gave in to his desperation and turned back to the insufferably smug creature in a vain hope at obtaining answers.

“Isn’t there something you can tell me? Anything at all?” He did not beg. He was not so low as to beg for answers. But damned if he wasn’t close. For his son…yes, he would beg if he had to, but everything in him railed against showing weakness to this creature and his pride and anger kept him from that final step. He knew full well it wouldn’t make a difference even if he did.

To its credit, it seemed to consider his words.

“She should have been mine, did you know that?”

Gabriel blinked in surprise at this strange response, uncertain what the kwami meant and what it was getting at.

Plagg on the other hand, smiled softly to itself. “That girl made for a pretty good Ladybug, don’t get me wrong. Optimistic, supportive, nurturing, and all around more inclined to the ‘high road’ that Tikki so loves. She took to the fortune and creation powers like a champ and was generally able to come up with the best plans and ways to use what she had to the greatest effects—to the point that she could have accomplished just as much outside of the mask as she could in it.”

It paused, looking up wistfully and thinking of things that could have been. “Yeah, she was a good pick for Ladybug, but she had all the makings of an amazing Black Cat given the chance. Protective, sneaky, graceful, territorial, cautious, observant—everything a good Cat should be. And she had a sort of resiliency in facing bad situations that would have made her perfect for the bad luck of the Black Cat Miraculous. I could have molded her into something extraordinary if she’d been put in my hands.”

It nodded contemplatively. “Similarly, Tikki would have made something good out of your kid as well. She’s all about order and structure and whatnot, and your kid was always by the book in that regard—you made real sure of that.” It added with a brief glare in Gabriel’s direction before softening again. “With their personalities, they would have gotten along splendidly. She would have made an amazing Ladybug out of him.”

It smiled, almost fondly for a brief moment before remembering where it was and growing somber.

“But the thing about the Miraculous is that when it comes to picking and choosing who we go to, we tend to wind up with the people who need us rather than the other way around. And of the two of us, Adrien needed me more.”

Gabriel bristled at that. “My son did not need some miscreant who encouraged him to put himself in danger on a regular basis!”

“He needed someone who helped him to assert himself!” Plagg countered.

“He was perfectly able to be assertive!”

“Only when it didn’t inconvenience you!” It sneered at him. “And lets not mince facts, he was always an inconvenience to you! You barely spoke to him! Hell, you spoke more to him through that secretary of yours than anything! You dictated every aspect of his life without so much as a thought to how he felt about any of it, and you willfully ignored any of his attempts to protest. Anything he tried to say fell on deaf ears. His wishes, his hopes, his desires for what to do with his own life didn’t matter! And through it all, you were completely blind as to just how miserable he was!”

They both glared at one another for a good half minute before the kwami chose to continue its initial point. “It doesn’t matter who would work best with the powers, but how they can grow the most with the kwami. Tikki’s a pillar of stability. Stern and motherly and lecturing—always with the lectures, I kid you not. But other than the spurts of creativity she tends to inspire in her bugs, Tikki wouldn’t be able to offer your kid anything except for more of the same he’d been dealing with up to that point. More responsibilities, more structure, more order, more nagging. Sure, she’d be a bastion of support for him—and certainly more than anyone else in his life at that point had been giving him, but Tikki’s thing is that she tends to try to caretake for her holders and push them to the straight and narrow, and Adrien’s had more than enough people doing that for him.”

It looked up at Gabriel, a stormy look in its eyes.

“I went to Adrien because he needed me. Tikki’s girl needed someone who could rein her in—help her focus and look past her initial impulses. But Adrien needed someone who would push him out—to encourage him to break out of the cage he was trapped in and actually have fun for once in his life. You know, fun? That thing children are supposed to have? I honestly didn’t think you did, since you never let Adrien have any. But then you went and fully encouraged it in all of your minions—and what does that say when you’re encouraging everyone else BUT your own child to have a good time?”

“I will not have one of you creatures speak to me in such a way!” Gabriel thundered.

“You mean like how you talk down to everybody else in general? And not even because they’re doing anything wrong, but just so you can upset them enough that you can use your dark powers on them? It kind of says something when your child’s happiness or well being ranked as less important than making people miserable so you could manipulate them!”

“That’s not true!"

“You refused to let your son have a freaking birthday party just to upset his friend enough to turn him into one of your minions! Do you have any idea how that made Adrien feel?”

“I was not going to let a number of unknown miscreants in my home!”

“So you couldn’t let them arrange something elsewhere? There are events and plenty of places that would have been happy to host them, but you refused to let him even celebrate the day of his own existence! And that’s not even getting started on the birthday gift. You know the one, right? Hah! I’d be surprised if you did, seeing as how your assistant stole it from one of Adrien’s classmates to claim it was from you because you couldn’t be bothered to get him anything yourself! Hell, it says something when the girl clearly cared more about his feelings than you did since she never told him the truth just to let him be happy!”

That the gift he ordered Nathalie to get was stolen was not something he was aware of, and if this was that same world, he likely would have stern words with her about that. But that did beg the question—

“How do you know who it was from?”

The pest shrugged and looked away from him. “I could smell it.”

He rolled his eyes because of course the little monster could.

“She made that gift for him with her own two hands. Every part—from the materials to the time and energy she put into it were all for your child solely with him and his happiness in mind. It was more thought and love in one single gift than you’d shown him in years, and she never said a word even after she discovered what you’d done! She stayed quiet and let you take the credit just so Adrien could believe that his father gave a damn about him! What the hell does that say about you?”

“Nathalie was supposed to have—”

“Nathalie is not his father!” It shouted at him. “She’s not the one who he desperately wants attention and approval from! And she’s not the one who is supposed to be raising him! THAT’S YOU! But where have you been?”

“I’ve been trying to make my family whole—”

“By neglecting the only one you have left! And what if it hadn’t worked, huh? What if you’d managed to get both miraculous and it still didn’t bring her back? What then? Would it still have been worth it or would you have neglected and outright tortured your own son for nothing?”

Gabriel froze.

Plagg saw this, but didn’t relent. “You were a terrible father! The absolute worst! And that’s not even counting all the times you nearly killed your own son with your antics! Hell, how many of his friends did you turn into monsters without a thought of whether he would be in the crossfire?”

“I never meant for him to be a target!”

“But you never really tried to see if he was even potentially in the line of fire!”

“I didn’t know he was Chat Noir!” He had suspected at times, but for the most part he hadn’t actually known until the end.

But that didn’t matter to the cat.

"I'm not even talking about when he was Chat Noir!" It shouted, actually knocking the cheese reel aside to Gabriel's surprise. "It was when he was Adrien! Just plain Adrien going to school or events where you set your akumas to attack people without considering he would be there!"

He didn't always know his son's schedule or where he would be, but he had been certain that he could reign in his akuma if Adrien was in danger. And even if anything had happened, he would have been able to fix it once he had both Miraculous in hand. "I would have protected him. I could easily have freed him from anything the akumas did. I would not have allowed it if I was not certain he would be fine."

It gritted its teeth in frustration. “How could you have been so certain? You didn’t hold back! You didn’t even try to change tactics! And when you did know, you put him in danger!”

“It was just to prove if he was Chat Noir” And it turned out that he was, so it wasn’t like he was wrong.

“YOU HAD HIM FALL TO HIS DEATH TO PROVE A POINT!” It bordered on shrieking, possibly the first time he had ever seen it truly angry and not simply spiteful.

He looked away, hiding his hands and their growing tremors. “He wasn’t in any true danger.”

“You could have KILLED him!" Plagg shouted, pointing at Gabriel accusingly. "And what if he HAD transformed? What then? He would have revealed his identity in front of the entire world! How well do you think THAT would have turned out? He’d have an even bigger target on his back since people would know to go after him as a civilian! Did you even think of that?!”

“I would have protected him!” Gabriel insisted, ire growing.

“Because you’ve done such a wonderful job of that so far!” It hissed, unimpressed.

“I was simply trying to confirm my suspicions!” He argued. And really, Adrien should never have been out there in the first place.

“And that makes it okay? What if he transformed, then what?”

“Then I would know."

“AND SO WOULD THE WORLD!” It screeched back.

Silence.

The two glared at each other, as if attempting to will the other to burst into flames with mere thought.

One of the two might very well have been capable of that.

Fortunately, it instead took a breath in an attempt to force itself to calm. “If I’ve learned anything from my time with you, it’s that you don’t think things through. You create grand, overly elaborate plans but don’t consider the consequences. Say Adrien is revealed to the world—then what? Just keep him locked in his room for the rest of his life?”

Gabriel forced a neutral expression. That hadn’t…not been a possibility he had considered.

As if it could read his mind, it glared up at him. “Even if he isn’t allowed out into the world, the world is still going to be after him. What would you even be able to do against real criminals, huh? Can you protect him from poison? A sniper? A BOMB? Plenty of people out there have even less scruples than you do—if this new Hawk Moth should have taught you anything, it’d be that!” It started off speaking lowly but was shouting again by the end, pulling at his—its ears in frustration. “What lengths do you think people would be willing to go to in order to get ahold of that type of power? Do you really think murdering a model is really beneath them? That they wouldn’t be perfectly willing to take his life if they thought it was the only thing between them and all the powers of a Miraculous at their command?”

“I would have confiscated the Miraculous once it was confirmed.”

“And you think that would have made him safe? People are stupid! They won’t care it’s gone, they’ll care it was there and assume he’d have some means to getting it again.”

Gabriel frowned at that. “I would have sent him outside of Paris. They wouldn’t know where to find him.”

It shook its head. “Even if you did, do you really think he would be grateful? His friends and family would be all the more in danger for it because desperate people will do anything, target anything, lash out at anything to get what they want! And that’s not even getting into the mess it’d have left Ladybug with. Not only would she have been stuck dealing with your akuma alone, but she’d have everyone else homing in on her as well now that the people know for sure that their heroes are just kids.”

“She wasn’t a concern.” Or at least she wouldn’t have been for long. Every advantage was necessary to defeat her, and under those circumstances, even the reveal of his son would have been to his advantage. Once he had her Miraculous and altered reality, none of it would have mattered anyway.

It seemed to catch on to his train of thought as it glowered at him. “Right, right. Because that would have only been to your benefit.”

“It ceases to matter anymore regardless.” Gabriel stated flatly. Because going over what-ifs and could have beens are pointless in this new world and served no use other than for the kwami to try to instill a belated sense of guilt for actions he did not regret.

No matter how badly his hands were shaking.

________________________

Another day. Another failure. And he was only growing ever more desperate.

He had managed to get close to his son again—enough that they were able to speak. He had tried yet again to encourage Adrien to return home. But despite his heartfelt words, nothing he said could pierce Chat Blanc’s rage.

And he certainly did rage. The things he had shouted at him hit Gabriel hard. And as much as he wanted to simply chalk it up to the akuma’s influence, he knew full well from his time as Hawk Moth that anything the akuma said or did was still based on everything the victim felt.

That meant that everything Chat Blanc said, Adrien truly believed.

As much as Gabriel tried to force the encounter from his mind, he could still vividly hear the words his son had shouted at him, leaving him with tremors he couldn’t calm.

While he somewhat suspected Adrien might have held a level of resentment towards him, he still found himself shaken by the encounter and the things that were said. He had thought that Adrien perhaps remembered the previous timeline or that some other irritation in his life had resulted in the akuma targeting him. He hadn’t given much thought to how his own attempts to keep Adrien safe would have negatively impacted him. Once he had realized a new Hawk Moth had risen, he had tried to take steps to protect his family—increased security, limited their travel beyond the walls of the mansion, and rejected public school in favor of private lessons for Adrien. And to think that his very attempts might have been the cause of his corruption…

Had he really caused this like he had caused everything else?

No, no, no! He found himself turning to the Book for answers, searching for anything—ANYTHING that would give him guidance and hopefully tell him this claim was wrong.

Seeing his frazzled state and how he immediately rushed for the ancient book he should already have memorized by this point, Plagg rolled its eyes. “Looking for another trick to pull?”

Gabriel didn’t even look up at him from his fevered searching. “There has to be some way to fix this!”

“Haven’t you figured out anything yet?” It hissed at him. "You can’t keep turning to magic to fix your problems!”

"Given that magic is the source of my troubles so far, it seems an apt solution if not the only one." He snapped his gaze up to the kwami. “If you would just tell me who Ladybug is, this could all be over by now!”

“Could it really? Or is that just wishful thinking on your part?” It jeered, disgruntled.

“Of course it could!” Wasn’t that obvious? “If I know who she is, I can locate and explain the situation—“

Plagg cut him off. “So you’re telling me you would rather talk to a teenage girl than your own wife?”

“YES!” He froze, realizing what he just said. “NO!” He gritted his teeth and grabbed at his hair. “How did you get so awful?”

It grinned cheekily. “Your son’s friends. You know, back when he had friends at any rate.”

Gabriel grumbled under his breath. “I knew they’d be trouble.”

“Really?” Plagg asked with a smirk. “Because I thought Adrien was quite the good influence on them.”

How ironic was it that while it was the other who was supposed to be the cat of the the two, it was Gabriel who was feeling rather inclined to try to claw someone’s face off.

“Listen.” Gabriel started, trying to be the reasonable one and get back to the original point while holding back his growing anger. “It’s been months. MONTHS. And nothing has improved."

“I am aware.” It replied, neutrally.

Seeing they had at least that in agreement, Gabriel continued. “Hawk Moth has Chat Blanc as a constantly active minion now and isn’t inhibited in making another akuma in addition to him! The heroes currently active are barely able to handle just one akuma, and that’s even with my wife helping out despite her experience and training. None of them are a match for Adrien as he is and they certainly aren’t going to be able to purify him anytime soon. They need help.”

But Plagg only shook its head. “Throwing another kid into the mix isn’t going to help matters.”

“But we could find Ladybug and—”

“And what? Restore the world to how it was? Would you really be satisfied with that?”

He bit his tongue, unable to respond. He didn’t have an answer for that. How could he? After everything he’d done and even after the harm it had caused, would he really be willing to give it all up?

“This is the reality you asked for, so this is the reality you have to face.” It told him, calmly. “You need to think long and hard about what you’re wanting to accomplish here.”

What he wanted to accomplish?

He forced himself to relax and mull over the ancient being’s words.

What he wanted was simple.

He wanted his family whole.

He wanted his wife safe.

He wanted his son restored.

That was what he wanted. That had been all he’d ever wanted. If he could at least rescue his son from the akuma possessing him, he would be satisfied. Even if—

He froze, realizing.

Even if it meant Adrien became Chat Noir again.

Yes. He despised the thought regardless, but he would gladly take Adrien being Chat Noir over Chat Blanc any day.

And there was only one way to accomplish that.

Only one person who COULD save him…

“Could Ladybug resolve this?” He finally asked.

It sighed, weary. “Trying to ‘fix’ things won’t cut it. It’d cause more problems if we did.”

“But could Ladybug resolve this?”

Plagg hesitated.

Gabriel continued, steadfast in his resolution. “What it comes down to is that this is the reality we must now live in, even if there are things we don’t like about it. Adrien is an akuma. Neither you nor I have the power to save him. But in another lifetime, Ladybug did. And in this lifetime, Ladybug can.”

It was unfair. It was cruel and unfair and horribly selfish of him, he knew that. To bring a girl into this battle because of a life she now never lived because of him in the first place was horrible. But if it saved Adrien, wouldn’t it be worth it?

And if she was still Ladybug—or even anything like the Ladybug she had once been, wouldn’t she feel the same?

“You’re not thinking this through.” The cat warned him.

He closed the book with a sense of finality. “No, I think perhaps I’m finally seeing the situation for what it is.”

“No, you’re not. Because you’re still focused on Adrien.” It looked up at him, solemn. “And I get that, I do. I don’t want him to stay like this anymore than you do, but there’s something you need to consider.”

“Right now, I’m more worried about saving my son.” Gabriel retorted, angry that even now the creature would try to impede him. It had been months. He could tell the kwami had been growing more worried as time passed and the situation remained unresolved. The bite of its spitefulness dulled with time and if anything, there were a few points where it almost seemed to want to help him. That may very well have been wishful thinking on his part, however, as even now it refused to help him.

It simply shook its head. “Here’s what should worry you. You’re trying to bring the Ladybug back into the spotlight without considering what it will mean. See, bad enough if this new Hawk Moth rewrites history again and starts everything over in a new cycle and thus setting off yet another game of ‘Miraculous Merry Go Round’." It started, waving a claw in a circle to emphasize the last point. It looked up at him with a shrug as it continued. "Maybe you’ll remember this time. Maybe you won’t. But what should really concern you if he wins isn’t what will happen the next time around if he does make the same wish you did, it’s what will happen THIS time around if he chooses NOT to."

He didn’t understand what it was talking about. Something told him he should, given the slowly creeping feeling he was getting of something terrible in the works. How it could be worse than the current state of things, he didn’t know. But he needed to if they were going to be on the same page. “What do you mean?”

“You wished that your wife never left.” Plagg explained. “So she didn’t, and history changed to accommodate that new route with someone else vanishing in her place. But different people respond differently to situations and wish differently for things if given the opportunity. There’s every chance this new Moth could reset things and we’ll be going through this all over again. But there’s also every chance that he DOESN’T make the wish to reset everything again—in which case, we’re going to end up with a super villain with ultimate power and a world to play in.”

He still didn’t see the issue. He had already been in that position and when both Miraculous were in hand, the thought to not use them for his original wish never crossed his mind. Surely this would be the same?

“What are you talking about?”

“You immediately chose to become a super villain and decided to get the Miraculous not only to get your wife but to rule the world in true super villain fashion.” It gave him a dry look. “Seeing as how this is a much more intelligent villain than the one who came before him, he could decide he rather likes having a city under his thumb and two Miraculous users at his beck and call. He’s already got one in Adrien, and the Black Cat and Ladybug were specifically meant to be a team—and an unmatched one at that.”

Gabriel felt something inside him go cold at that realization. He hadn’t wanted to think of what could happen if the madman won before now, and certainly hadn’t even considered what said madman would choose to do. He was dangerous in a way Gabriel had never been—had never wanted to be, and was already one step closer to success in half the time it had taken Gabriel as Hawk Moth to accomplish.

He had thought finding and restoring Ladybug to some capacity could undo the damage—and perhaps she could. But once in the open, the new Hawk Moth and Chat Blanc would have a direct target. Instead of spreading out over a city, they could focus in on the Ladybug holder. The last piece they needed—in more ways than one.

It finally hit him just how badly things could go.

“If he gets the Ladybug Miraculous—”

“He’s going to get Ladybug, too.”

Ladybug, who was the main instrument of his defeat time and again with nothing more than her wits and random luck. Ladybug, who was the only one able to truly purify the akumas and save those possessed and their victims. Ladybug, who had the power to restore the world to its previous state and was the only one who could keep things in some semblance of order even in the middle of the worst of attacks. Before the change, she had been the biggest hurdle to his victory. Now, she was the only hope he had of saving his son and protecting his family. But if the new Hawk Moth got to her as well…

That was not an enemy he wanted to face. Not like this.

He clenched his hands in an attempt to hide how unsteady they were. “But she doesn’t remember being Ladybug! You’ve even said as such!”

“She doesn’t right now, no. But trying to bring her back when she still doesn’t remember anything won’t help matters. It doesn’t protect her now and it won’t make her not just as dangerous if Hawk Moth gets to her. Chat Blanc is already evidence enough of that.

He felt he was grasping at straws at this point, but there was one benefit to this mess, it was that he was the only one with clear knowledge and memory of the timeline before. He almost felt himself starting to calm as he remembered this. “At least she’s an unknown variable at this time. We could find her and start training her in secret. Hawk Moth has no knowledge of her and no one even knows to start looking.”

Plagg didn’t seem heartened by this. He simply looked up at Gabriel solemnly.

“But Adrien does.”

Gabriel froze, eyes widening in horror at the realization. Because of course Adrien would recall his partner—he had a Miraculous still and had been downright obsessed with the girl previously. He was fully aware of how much Adrien spent on her merchandise. Any free moment he had was spent on the Ladyblog or other internet sites discussing her deeds and debating her identity. And how many times had he put himself in danger for her sake? His love for her was clear to everyone except the heroine herself and worried him in how similar it had been to his own love for his wife.

Adrien loved that girl. And if some things truly carried over, his feelings would no doubt be one of them.

Plagg nodded, seeing that Gabriel finally understood. “The Black Cat Miraculous is a half of a whole. Romantics would call it fate or destiny, soulmates and the like. Which sounds all nice and overly cheesy in theory—and not the good kind either.” It shook its head and looked back up at him. “But what it comes down to is that if Adrien retains anything of his time as Chat Noir, he’s going to know at the very least that he’s supposed to have a partner. Even under normal circumstances, he would have every inclination to find her and restore that previous balance. And as an akuma, he will have no inhibitions or restraint keeping him from trying to get that back.”

“So you’re saying…”

“The instant she becomes Ladybug again, Chat Blanc is going to know. And he will stop at nothing to find her." He rose up to eye level with Gabriel, arms crossed and looking quite possibly more serious than the man had ever known him to be.

"So if you really want Ladybug’s help, you’d better hurry.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thank you for reading! Please check me out on Ko-Fi.

#ml au #Gabriel's Lament #gabriel is an idiot #hawk moth wins #hawk moth is an idiot #gabriel agreste #akumatized adrien #emilie agreste #plagg #poor plagg #the wish #it doesn't work like you'd expect

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enigmawrappedinhypocrisy · 4 years

Text

Wellness- Rex- 3

*Fandom- Star wars

*Pairings- Captain Rex x Togruta ofc/reader

*Warnings- NSFW - Oral (Male receiving) - Fingering - M/F intercourse- Fluff- Lots of cute feels.

*Summary* Rex Escorts Vela, the Togruta girl, home only to be invited up.

**A/N** Can be read alone but probably best with part 1 and part 2 enjoy, thanks.

❀✦ Master List✦❀

The walk to Vela’s apartment was a short one. Which was good because Rex was beginning to get more and more nervous as time went on. This wasn’t exactly something he did on a regular basis. What if he wasn’t good, If he hurt her? So many worries ran through his thoughts but beside him the girl looked so sure.

She asks him to “come up for a drink” and he doesn’t even remember agreeing, but here he was. In her apartment, sitting on her couch as she scurried around.

Vela rushed around making sure nothing embarrassing was visible, and giving herself a once over in a mirror… Hoping to appear pretty and confident, like she wasn’t the mess of nerves she really was. Before long she returns with a pair of glasses trying not to spill the bright liquid.

She hands Rex one and takes a seat next to him. Just a little too close for what would be polite, but nowhere near as close as either of them really wanted to be at the moment.

There’s silence before Vela breaks it. “I Haven’t been completely honest with you” She confesses looking sheepish, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

Rex looks at her with concern though, and waits for her to continue. “I’ve been thinking about a lot more than I told you..” She tries to sound composed but her cheeks darken.

“Oh? Like what?” Rex takes a sip hoping to the maker he sounded suave and not terrified.

“Well…” She moves closer, thigh brushing his, “I’ve been thinking about your hands…”

“My hands?” He blinks, not expecting that answer. He watches with wonder as she takes one of his rough, calloused hands in her soft ones, playing with his fingers gently. Stars, they dwarfed hers.

“And your lips…” She continues looking up at him through her lashes. Rex grins, catching on, “What else?”

“I’ve been dreaming about you holding me, touching me…”

Rex blinks and she’s suddenly in his lap, straddling him. When did that happen?

“Kissing me…” She leans in, but keeps just far enough away to tease; her warm breath fawning over his lips, which were parted in anticipation.

The poor clone captain was currently using every last ounce of control to keep calm, play cool, don’t fuck it up! His hands cling to her hips, holding her to him, and using her as an anchor. Don’t hurt her!

“I’d dream about you…” She continues, nuzzling into his neck. She too needed something to ground herself, but quickly found this to be a mistake. His scent was overwhelming, and sent her mind spinning. She begins kissing him here, her body taking over at this point.

Rex groans, her gentle touches, her softness, her warmth… it was too much. “I’d- Dream about you- too” he pulls her hips tighter against him, needing to feel more.

Vela pulls back ever so slightly, a look of wonder in her eyes, “Yeah?”

Rex nods, “Yeah.”

“In my dreams you’d come to me, lay me down, fill me-”

Rex couldn’t take it any longer, his hand moved to grip the back of the girl’s head, he pulled her to him; lips capturing hers in a heated kiss. It was quick and needy leaving both panting by the time they pulled away.

“You consume my every thought” he confesses, leaning forward so their foreheads are touching, chests heaving.

He was so sweet, and Vela knows she should take this easy, but is unable to help herself. She wanted him… needed him…

With a smile and a quick kiss Vela pulls back, climbing off of the man. He looks at her, wounded, but she simply smirks offering him a hand.

“How rude of me… I haven’t given you a tour yet” She teases, and Rex knows she wasn’t really planning on showing him the full apartment. After all she was pulling him quite undoubtedly towards one room in particular. The bedroom…

Upon entering the cozy room Vela turns towards him, catching his other hand now as well. The room was comfortable, warm, and bathed in a soft glow from an accent light.

“We don’t have too” Rex tells her softly, not really sure why, and desperately hoping she doesn’t take him up on it. He wanted this, more than he wanted almost anything, but he also wanted her to want it. He didn’t want her to feel pressured or afraid of him.

Vela frowns, “Only if that’s what you want…” she looks up at him, hope in her eyes matching his own.

Rex shakes his head and Vela smiles resuming her tugging.

She pulls him towards her bed and motions for him to sit. Complying, Rex reaches towards the girl, pulling her back onto his lap. Arms wrapping around his neck Vela begins a session of soft kisses that seem to go on forever.

She giggles when Rex chases her as she pulls back. He’s soon distracted, though, as the togruta girl pulls off her top and bra. He feels like this whole thing is a dream he’ll wake from at any moment; and finds himself gripping her hips in an attempt to find purchase.

Giggling again Vela leans forward giving the man’s jaw a little nip, “You can touch me you know” she reminds him beginning to kiss his neck again.

“I am touching you” he counters, squeezing her hips as proof.

To explain her point, her hands move down his arms gently taking hold of his hands again. She brings them up to her breasts, coaxing him to explore the fleshy mounds.

“You’re beautiful” he tells her softly; and when she looks at him he’s gazing into her eyes with such affection Vela moans and blushes. No one had ever looked at her that way before and it made her feel things.

Rex reaches one hand up to grasp the back of her head, and pulls her into another kiss, allowing his other hand to explore her chest, feeling the soft skin there. Once his finger brushes against her nipple she whines, and he can’t hide his grin. He repeats the action, bringing his other hand from her head to show both sides equal attention.

Soon she’s panting into the kiss and tugging at his shirt, desperately needing to be closer to him and hoping he gets the hint.

Pulling away with a smirk, he hastily removes his top. Hoping to quickly get back to kissing her.

Once the shirt has been removed, Vela pushes Rex back on the bed. She begins a path of kisses along his neck, shoulders, and down his chest. Sometimes adding a lick or nip along the way. It seems she decided it was very important for her to memorize every inch, and found herself quickly obsessed with the taste of his flushed skin.

His scent, his taste, everything about this man was addictive…

Laying back, eyes closed, the clone captain allowed himself to get lost in the pleasure of her explorations; his skin warming at her touch. Rex decides she could do just this forever and he’d be happy.

Soon the girl reaches the edge of his pants, and his eyes open. His hands move to grip hers quickly, unsure why he’s stopping her.

Blinking up at him, the girl waits patiently for a sign, any indication he wanted her to stop or continue. Once his hands release hers, she takes the cue sliding to the floor in front of him. He sits up to watch her, once again mesmerized by her as she looks up at him.

“We can stop any time you want” she tells him, her hands gripping his thighs, cheeks flushed, pupils blown.

“No, I just-” he begins but, she was rubbing his thighs gently and her hands were so warm, the man found himself unable to focus.

Vela leans forward and places kisses below his sternum, over a faded scar. “Anything you want,” She assures him. “I’m here for you.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” he tells her voice strained.

She continues kissing him as her hands return to his pants. He helps her remove them while she wiggles out of her own. Looking up at him through her lashes the girl resumes her touches, massaging his thighs some more and teasing just a little.

Once she decided he was worked up enough, Vela allowed her hand to brush gently over the man’s still clothed member, he apparently didn’t elect to remove his grays. He stiffens but doesn’t stop her from reaching in and pulling him out.

He was already so hard, and better than anything the girl had conjured up on her own in the wee hours of the night.

Rex watches her with wonder as she begins to slowly touch him, her focus entirely on her task. He moves to stroke her face only to grab the sheets by reflex when the girl leans down to place a loving kiss on the tip.

She makes eye contact with him as she pulls back slightly and licks a deliberate line up his shaft ending with a gentle swirl of her tongue on the head.

Twitching beneath her, Rex quickly finds himself overwhelmed. When she suddenly wraps her lips around him, taking his already over stimulated cock in her mouth, Rex swears.

“Kriff! Vela-” he almost whines.

She ‘hmms?’ around him smiling as he twitches in her mouth. Her hands grip his thighs trying to keep both him and her grounded in the moment, as she pulls back paying special attention to the head before sinking down again.

He looks to the ceiling as he tries to keep himself quiet, but kriff if this wasn’t the best thing he’d ever felt.

She had hoped she was doing a good job, and if the man’s flushed skin and labored breaths were any indication, she was. And stars if his precum wasn’t just as addicting as everything else about him.

“Vela” he repeats after a bit, sounding slightly strangled.

“Yes love?” She smiles up at him, pulling back to nibble on the tip gently.

“Come’re” he orders, voice gruff with need. He was using his “Captain Voice” on her and she loved it.

Vela does as commanded, standing up and moving to climb back onto his lap. Rex had other plans, however and, with a quick motion he has her flipped onto the bed, looking up at him with wonder. The switch in behavior both surprised, and delighted her.

He leans down and kisses her, a hand sneaking lower. Brushing a finger over the girl’s exposed slit Rex smiles at the small surprised sound the girl made. Pulling back slightly the man catches the girl’s wide eyed look. Repeating the action, eyes glued to her face, Rex watched as she bit her lip trying to keep quiet.

“You’re so wet” He tells her with a smirk.

The girl blinks up at him. She was glad he was feeling more confident, and kriff it was hot but she couldn’t hide the redness from forming on her cheeks.

“What’s got you like this?” He asks, teasing her folds.

When did he get so bold?! Was the sweet innocent thing an act?!

A look at his face told her the answer, he was feeling more comfortable. Sure in his actions, and most of all the captain was enjoying himself. She couldn’t help but adore this man more and more the longer she spent with him.

“Hmm?” he prompts her to answer his question, punctuated with a firmer swipe over her opening. “Was it my cock?”

Biting her lip, Vela nods.

He brushes his finger across her clit, causing the girl to yelp and arch at the sudden sensation. Rex leans forward kissing the girl as he begins to rub tight circles against her clit. Once she’s panting he lets up moving back to tease her entrance, maintaining eye contact as he slips a finger inside her. It slides in easily and Rex can feel how warm and soft her insides are.

“So wet for me” he teases, voice a thick honey, as he begins pumping his finger into her in an exploring pace. Watching her for any sign of discomfort Rex picks up the pace, soon adding a second finger causing the girl’s whines to pick up pitch.

She quickly throws her arms around him as best she can, clinging to him as he begins working her towards her orgasm. By the time he adds his thumb, brushing it against her clit, the girl comes apart, pussy clenching around him tightly.

Removing his hand from her womanhood, Rex lays next to the girl, holding her to him as she recovers.

“That was… wow” Vela grins up at him, a little ‘cum-drunk’ at the moment.

Rex finds himself a little too pleased at her complement, he was happy to be the one responsible for her current slightly incoherent state.

After a few more moments of rest Vela surprises Rex by climbing on top of him. She brushes her hands down his chest before lining herself up with his cock. As she sinks down, slowly taking him in, they both let out a gasp followed by a sound of satisfaction.

Rex closes his eyes in an attempt to control himself, resist the urge to buck up into her. She was amazing, so warm, so soft. How was it possible that everything she did felt better than the last thing?

Vela leans forward using the man’s chest for a bit of support momentarily allowing herself to get used to his size. He was everything she had hoped for and felt so good, filling her completely. She watches his face, scrunched in concentration and flushed in pleasure. She starts wiggling on him a bit, checking that she had grown used to his size.

Rex’s hands move to grip the girl’s hips. His eyes shoot open when she begins grinding against him slightly. He knows she’s trying to adjust, but the motion was driving him crazy. Just feeling close to her was affecting him deeply and this was closer than he could have ever imagined being. And kriff was she warm!

Vela leans forward, gives the man a quick kiss before sliding herself up his length, sinking down with a whine. She soon finds a pace that makes both of them happy and keeps at it for a bit, Rex’s firm grip aiding her. She was appreciative of his strength as he was able to take a good amount of control even being underneath her.

Before long she finds herself faltering when Rex moves one hand from her hip to tease her clit. Leaning forward again Vela’s grip on the man tightens as she loses herself to the overbearing pleasure. She is too distracted to notice when the man changes their positioning. Placing her beneath him, back to the warm bed, all the while somehow never slipping from her warmth.

Hovering over her, Rex kisses the girl deeply, his hand stroking her face. He lets her catch her breath again, walking her back from her almost orgasm. Breaking the kiss, Rex pulls back and finds a position the girl was comfortable with.

Her legs wrap around him, keeping him close, as he begins a dominating pace, thrusting with a power that excited her. He quickly brought her back to the edge, and with a cry her insides tighten around him.

Hissing at the sudden constriction Rex continues, doubling his pace, extending the girl’s orgasm. His eyes were glued to the girl’s face, watching her closely. He quickly found himself very much in love with every little thing about her in the moment. The way her lips part with quiet whimpers, how her cheeks darken, her pupils were blown as she looked up at him with such amazement and adoration.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her.

“I need you” she whines, begging.

He answers her with a kiss slowing his pace to focus on feeling every inch of her twitching pussy.

“Don’t stop” she encourages in a breathy voice.

Nearing his own compilation, Rex leans back into a seated position, pulling her with him. From here his hands grip her bottom and her begins dragging her up and down on his cock. His face nuzzles into her neck, kissing her there and muffling his moans.

“Oh Rex, I’m close” she clings to his back, tears beginning at the corner of her eyes.

“Me… too… cum for me again, cyar'ika” he orders, gripping her harder.

It only took a few more thrusts before she was constricting over his cock once more, the force of it pulling him with her.

The pair clung to each other in post orgasmic bliss before recovering enough to pull apart. “You’re amazing” she tells him breathlessly.

He responds by pulling her into a deep kiss, never wanting it to end.

Vela pulls Rex back with her to the bed, quickly wrapping herself around him, head resting on his chest. She begins tracing some of his scars.

Rex pulls the covers over their nude and cooling bodies. He holds her in silence, not quite sure where they go from here. Would she want him to leave? Would she want to see him again?

Suddenly she jumps up with a noise of surprise. Rex is suddenly on edge, ready for a fight.

“I gotta check something!” She scurries out of the room, returning after a few moments with a sigh of relief.

Rex gives her a questioning look, asking for an explanation, trying not to stare at her nudeness.

“Oh… I wanted to make sure I had something for us for breakfast,” she blushes crawling back in bed with the man.

“You don’t have to...” he begins, not entirely sure why or where he planned on going with the statement.

Vela blinks at him with a frown, “But- but you’re staying tonight right?”

Her tone and the big hopeful eyes she gave him made it impossible for Rex to resist… even if he wanted to…

Rex nods but tells her he’ll have to leave before it gets too late in the morning. Vela seemed satisfied with that answer and nuzzles back into his side. Rex holds her and feels his chest well with the softness of the moment. The normalcy. He needed it… craved it… wanted more. He hoped she’d want to see him again after tonight, if he was ever able to pull himself away from her in the morning, that is.

Soon, they drift off to the best night's sleep either had ever remembered having, content in each other's arms.

❀✦ Master List✦❀

A/N I know this took so long to finish… sorry… i’m bad at doing things in a timely manner… But I hope it was worth it <3

#Star wars #Clone wars #Fanfiction #Captain Rex #Captain Rex x reader #Captain Rex x #Captain Rex x Togruta girl #Captain Rex x ofc #Captain rex x you #Story #Wellness

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thisispurpleyam · 4 years

Text

Surreptitious Candor part 4

A beautiful lounge singer and Napoleon Solo cross paths during U.N.C.L.E.’s mission in New York.

Napoleon Solo x WOC oc

I thought that this fic would only need 4 parts, but apparently it calls for two more...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Playlist

*****

Knocking out and tying up the owner of the invitation was much simpler than Gaby and Illya expected. The man was the personification of nervous, awkward, and clumsy. He tripped over his own feet and started sobbing immediately after Illya kicked his door down. When Gaby suddenly appeared behind him, the poor guy just couldn’t take it and passed out. They finished the job quietly and swiftly before their oblivious victim’s neighbors noticed something was amiss. Shortly after, they set off to the rendezvous point the team had agreed on.

At the soiree, Napoleon was blending in with the crowd perfectly, being the usual charmer he was. Amalia and Bernard didn’t even recognize him, as he had anticipated. So, when they paused to ask him who he was, he flawlessly delivered his story of being Alan Sinclair, the only child of the late Mr. and Mrs Sinclair. Everything else would have gone smoothly if it wasn’t for the gossip filling the room unnecessarily dragging out his job.

“Leon?” he heard a familiar voice call out to him, distracting him from his thoughts.

He turned around and faced the singer whom he had recently become very well acquainted with. “Ah, Eula. Fancy seeing you here.”

“After last night, who would have thought we’d run into each other again so soon?” she responded with a suggestive smirk.

Napoleon knowingly smiled back, taking pride in the secret only they had the privilege of knowing. He took her hand in his and kissed her gloved knuckles. “Fate has its ways.”

“I thought you didn’t like to dance, though?” Eula slyly asked, making a point of darting her eyes toward the dance floor.

“I suppose I could make an exception for a certain chanteuse again, considering how well my night ended the last time I did,” he replied with a wink, taking the lead and joining the pairs swaying to the music.

As the two of them moved in time with the song, it dawned on Eula how much time she had been spending with Napoleon. She preferred to be detached from people, being the independent and self-sufficient woman she was. Every involvement she ever had with a man, and they were very few and far between, only lasted a night. All of them, she either met at the lounge or worked with during one of her side jobs before she became a regular at the diner. She seldom let things get far as breakfast. Yet here she was, in her highest heels and most expensive dress, dancing with the devilishly handsome spy and enjoying his company for the fourth night in a row.

“Alan,” Amalia Fernsby called out. “I see you’ve gotten comfortable enough to partake in the festivities.”

“Mrs. Fernsby,” Napoleon greeted as he pulled away from Eula, noticing her expression sour the moment they heard Amalia’s voice. He pretended to not notice and settled for an arm around her waist instead. “I couldn’t possibly say no to such a lovely dance partner.”

Amalia turned her focus to the singer and remarked, “you never told us the two of you know each other.”

“I prefer to keep our conversations on a need-to-know basis,” Eula responded curtly, flashing an artificial smile to emphasize her point.

Bernard sensed the tension and stepped in, “I’m really glad you and Alan Sinclair are getting along well, though. His mother really meant a lot to our family. She was a wonderful tutor to you, and we’ll forever be in debt.”

“She absolutely was. Maybe you could come over for dinner sometime, Alan,” Amalia excitedly added. “How your mother didn’t talk much about you, I will never understand. If I had a son as handsome as you, I would-“

“Mother,” Eula sternly cut in. “Let’s not make our guest uncomfortable, shall we?”

Before the conversation could get any further, their assistant came to inform Bernard and Amalia that their presence was requested by an important guest.

Napoleon waited for any woman’s reaction whenever they realized a man had been dishonest with them. He anticipated Eula’s rage or tears, but neither came. Instead, she took her parents’ absence as an opportunity to get away from the crowd.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said as she grabbed him and pulled him to an empty hallway, leading him to the fire exit door. She looked both ways to make sure the area was clear before dragging him inside the stairwell.

Napoleon lazily raised both of his hands and offered Eula a sheepish grin, “Alright. You got me.”

“Relax, Alan,” she said in sarcasm and leaned her back against the door. “I’m trying to help you.”

Napoleon incredulously eyed the brunette. “You are?”

“Yes! So you better listen carefully before anybody notices anything out of the ordinary,” she responded all in one breath.

Still doubtful, Napoleon inquired, “but why? Considering you just found out I used you and lied to you, the last thing you should be feeling is generosity.”

Eula rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Leon, I knew. From the moment we first met, I knew you weren’t who you presented yourself to be.”

“Alright, humor me then,” he challenged. “What do you know about me?”

“First of all,” she started, taking steps closer to him and meeting his piercing gaze, “I know that you’re a conman. You always don designer suits that only the upper class of New York can afford, yet your hands are way too rough to belong to a man of wealth. Hell, even your car is more expensive than any I’ve driven before. As far as I know, no man can get that rich off physical labor alone. Hands like yours could only mean being heavily exposed to either field work or combat. My suspicions were proven right when I saw your scars last night. I’ve had my fair share of men, and I think I can tell the difference between a puny heir with no backbone and someone who had to do whatever he can to survive.”

Napoleon could only look at her in wonder. None of the women he had been with were as observant. They usually swooned over the smallest things and bought whatever persona he sold to them.

“I also know that you’re a thief. A good one, I might add, who would have gotten away with stealing my bracelet if I didn’t know the contents of my jewelry box like the back of my hand. After all, how can my bracelet disappear after I first spoke with you and suddenly turn up in my jewelry box after you spent the night?”

Napoleon snickered. “A good thief probably shouldn’t return items they’ve stolen.”

“Even if you hadn’t given it back, I still would have figured you out,” Eula confidently retorted.

“Oh really? Why’s that?”

“Simple. You’re not at all the type of man to stick around. You’re the type who leaves after you’ve had your fun. And if the object of your desire doesn’t take you up on your offer right away, you move on to your next conquest. With me, you actually waited for three days and even visited the diner despite barely knowing me. What other reason would you have to stay other than the fact that you’d already figured out who I really was?”

Napoleon hated to admit it, but he was impressed. The CIA and U.N.C.L.E. had done a good job covering up his criminal record, yet Eula was able to glean that much information simply by paying attention. She might not have figured out the exact circumstances, but she got pretty damn close. “You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that.”

“Alright, then. My turn to ask now. How did you find out I was a Fernsby?”

“Your bracelet,” he answered nonchalantly.

“My bracelet?” Eula asked in puzzlement. “But it’s a unique design that never reached the market.”

“Precisely. At first I considered it was a knockoff brand, seeing as it had an emblem vaguely similar to the Fernsbys’ trademark logo, but the quality was way too high to be that cheap. Then I found out that in every photograph taken of the Fernsby women from different generations, each had that bracelet in common. I gathered that it was a jewelry unique to every woman in the family.”

Eula shook her head and scoffed. “I knew I should have thrown that stupid thing away. It never did quite fit me right.”

“But there’s just one thing I couldn’t quite figure out.”

“And that is?”

“Every single Fernsby woman of the last three generations have their photographs in the paper, except for you.”

“I don’t really like to associate with my family. That’s the whole reason why I left the day I turned 18. I’ve been working at the lounge since then and even took up graveyard shifts at the diner.”

“So that’s why you’re helping me? Because you hate your family?”

“Don’t mock me,” she firmly told him. “They’re not as ‘glamorous’ as they make people think. I may not know the exact details, but I was groomed to be the company’s heir and trained to understand the ins and outs. I know they’ve been caught up in human trafficking and drug dealing of some sort. I can’t exactly report them to the cops because even they can be bought by our family name alone. The money from the business my ancestors started deserves to be put to better use.”

“And you think I won’t misuse the money?” he sarcastically asked.

“I think, you’re not doing this heist completely out of selfish reasons.”

“What makes you say that?”

“When you left the diner, I saw what you did to that young news boy. I saw how you bought all of the papers he had left just so he could go home. I also know that on the evening we met, when it was a really slow night at the lounge, it was you who tipped every single server on duty. Leon, you’re not as terrible of a person as you seem to think.”

“You’re trusting me way too much, Eula” Napoleon warned her.

“Well, I’d rather trust you than my manipulative and controlling parents. At least I know you’re capable of helping people on your own free will. They only do it for show.”

“If you hate them so much, why’d you come to the soiree?” he questioned.

“Because it’s part of the deal,” Eula bit back. “I promised I’d show up to every stupid gathering they’d hold in exchange for them getting their ‘henchmen’ off my back. It doesn’t guarantee my safety from the tabloids, but it’s worth a try…”

Napoleon wordlessly studied the brunette. All the years he spent in his trade taught him to recognize dishonesty, and Eula showed no sign of it. “Fine,” he gave in. “When do we start?”

“We? I can’t go with you. I go on stage in a few minutes. You’ll be on your own, so you have to pay close attention to everything I tell you.”

“Alright, what do I have to do?”

Eula looked around the fire exit staircase to make sure no one could overhear and hurriedly instructed, “go into the janitor’s closet at the end of the hall. The wall on the left side of the door is hollow and has a hidden elevator behind it. You’ll need this,” she took off her bracelet and handed it to Napoleon, “because the emblem on the pendant unlocks the elevator doors.”

“Ah, so this ‘stupid thing’ has a use after all,” Napoleon teased.

She let out a dry laugh and answered, “yes, but I won’t be needing it anymore, so you can keep it. The elevator takes you to the most restricted area of the building. When you get there, you’ll see a steel door with a passcode. I would tell you the code, but they change it every 12 hours. You get past that, and then there’s a safe you gotta crack.”

“Lucky for you, safe cracking is a part of my skill set. But I suppose you already knew that otherwise you wouldn’t be telling me all this.”

“I didn’t really know. But considering the magnitude of this larceny, I just figured.”

“Hmm, fair enough.

“Best be on your way before people start to miss you,” Eula ordered him. “Oh, and the password for unlocking the steel door from the inside is ‘awanggan.’ It’s Tagalog for infinity.”

“Listen, Eula,” Napoleon began hesitantly, “I’m sorry for-”

“It’s okay,” she interjected with a genuine smile and joked, “I always knew you weren’t a ‘coffee and breakfast in the morning’ kind of guy from the get go.”

Napoleon began to make his way to the door until he paused in his tracks and turned back around. He caught her off guard by pulling her in and capturing her lips with his. After she got past her initial surprise, she eagerly responded almost immediately; each of them moving with an amount of aggression to ensure neither would easily forget the physical memory of the experience. He gave her bottom lip a soft bite before slowly pulling away.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he smugly teased.

“Whatever you say, Leon. Now hurry!”

#Napoleon Solo #the man from uncle #The Man from U.N.C.L.E.#tmfu #tmfu fanfic #napoleon solo fanfic #napoleon solo x oc #woc oc

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alitaimagines · 4 years

Text

“we’ve gotten boyfriend turned ex boyfriend angst with bnha, aot, and hetalia, but do it now with daiya no ace or you a coward.”

ex! miyuki kazuya, umemiya seiichi x fem! reader

fandom: ace of diamond / daiya no ace

note / song recommendation: what I will not be called is a coward bc I AM NOT A COWARD. also i am so sorry Haruno, I love you but I had to use you. please remember that requests open on Monday! / division - aly and aj

“do it again, I dare you to do it again in front of me.” you whispered as you looked at Haruno and Miyuki with disgust. “You know what? Nevermind, please continue your little affair and I’ll make sure to return after your done.”

Miyuki stayed silent as Haruno already had tears spilling from her eyes. “You know you could’ve done the right thing and just broken up with me instead of cheating on me with one of your managers.” You had no tears falling from your face. You were more angry than upset.

Mikyuki climbed off his bed and tried to follow you. “Listen, that meant nothing, it was a heat of the moment thing, I promise.” You chuckled sadly as you turned around to look at him again.

“Really? Because from the looks of it, you were clearly cheating with the intention of not getting caught! You had her in your dorm, Kazuya!” You screamed, not intending to be loud. “So if that wasn’t the case, explain it to me.”

Miyuki stayed silent as you gave him a look. If they could kill, he would be dead where he stood. “Exactly, now let me ask you a question.” You said trying not to scream again. “If I hadn’t walked in, would you have gone all the way? Is it because I’m not on the team and you spend more time with her or what?”

“No but I hardly see you! We could’ve spent more time together if you signed up to be a manager!” Miyuki tried to say but it came off more as a questionable answer than a statement.

You gave him another deadly look. “I want to repeat your words, “don’t sign up for a managerial position because I don’t want my girlfriend to be caught up in my mess”, or did I make that up?” He felt his throat drying as he swallowed thickly.

“You know what?” You said as you grabbed a sweater that was stuffed into your book bag. “Take this, give it to Haruno.” You handed him the Seido sweater he gave you on each others first date and walked away without giving him a second look.

“You’re leaving Seido because of Kazuya!” Kuramochi screamed before you clamped a hand over his mouth and whispered to shut the hell up before anyone heard. “You’re lying to me and what you’re telling me is a joke.”

You shook your head no as you slid him the papers that confirmed your enrollment at Ugumori High School. “It’s not all because of that idiot you call a best friend. My mother got a better job in East Tokyo so why not take the opportunity? I start after summer break if you’re wondering.”

“Are you dorming at Ugumori?” Kuramochi asked as the two of you sat down on the bench. “Who else knows? I’m assuming just me?” You nodded in response to both questions.

“You better be telling the truth. If I find out that you left because of that idiot catcher, you’ll be wrestling me on sight every time I see you.” Kuramochi threatened.

“If I did move schools because of that, it’s no ones business anyway so be lucky I even told you.” You exclaimed. “What makes you think I want to go to a school with my lying cheating ex boyfriend? I can’t even stand to see the sight of him without getting the feeling of jumping him on sight.”

Kuramochi let out a laugh before realization dawned on his face. “Wait, today is the last day before summer break.” You gave him a saddened smile as you hugged him. “When’s the next time we’ll see you?”

“Maybe if you guys play Ugumori?” You said questionably. “I know it’s super sudden but might as well take the advantage of starting fresh, you know?” He nodded understandingly.

“Just promise me you won’t say anything!” You told him as you got up from the bench. “Especially to Miyuki because I don’t want that idiot thinking that I moved schools just because of him.”

Kuramochi knew the minute you left him, he would be going to Miyuki’s dorm and catching him in some wrestling move but all he did was give you a nod before hugging you again and watching you leave.

“You idiot!” Kuramochi screamed as you slammed the door open. Sawamura, Kominato, and Nori jumped from fear as they watched their shortstop march up to Miyuki and give him a swift punch to the face. “All because you decided to cheat!”

Miyuki had never once seen this anger accumulate into Kuramochi before. “What the hell are you talking about?” He screamed as he pushed Kuramochi off him.

“( your name )! Yeah, your ex girlfriend, she moved schools!” He screamed as the entire dorm fell silent. Miyuki tried to move but Kuramochi caught him again but this time by the collar of his t-shirt. “Congratulations, your ex girlfriend moved schools because of your cheating ass!”

Miyuki looked up at Kuramochi and tried to determine if he was lying or not. “How do you know? She could be lying!” He mentioned as he pushed Kuramochi off him again.

“She showed me the official papers you imbecile!” Kuramochi screamed as he pointed his finger at Miyuki. “Had she not caught you cheating, she would still be here!”

“No one asked her to move! She decided that on her own.” Miyuki screamed back as he moved Kuramochi’s finger out of the way. Kuramochi gave Miyuki a surprised expression. “I can’t believe after you cheated on your own girlfriend, the one who actually kept you from acting like an ass most of the time, you’re sitting here playing the victim. Maybe not today or tomorrow but you’ll realize what you lost by cheating on the one consistent person in your life.”

Miyuki growled. “Why are you so riled up about this? Did you like her or something?” Kuramochi noticed Sawamura starting to stand in the middle of the both of them, maybe out of fear that this would actually turn physical.

Kuramochi couldn’t help but laugh offendedly. “No but I actually learned the emotion called sympathy. You wouldn’t know that, would you? Next time you decide to get into a relationship, make sure it’s someone you actually like and not someone you’ll throw to the side when you start getting bored of them.”

With a slam of the door, Nori, Sawamura, and Kominato watched the green haired boy leave as Miyuki stood looking at the ground. He knew Kuramochi held several good points but if it was one thing, Miyuki knew his pride was his biggest flaw.

During your winter break, your heart started to heal itself from the heart broken feeling. You knew with starting at Ugumori, it would give you a breath of fresh air and the ability to start all over again. You weren’t exactly looking to get into a relationship while you attended Ugumori but if it presented itself, you wouldn’t mind it.

You looked up at your classroom as you knocked on the door softly. The door slammed open and the teacher immediately started scolding the student who opened it so harshly.

“Ah, ( your name )!” She said as she gave you a smile. “Welcome to Ugumori!”

The entire class waved as she pointed to your seat and decided to save you the embarrassment of having to introduce yourself.

You knew exactly who was sitting next to you. Being that you were Miyuki’s ex girlfriend, you had heard of the infamous Umemiya Seiichi. The monster pitcher with a wicked curveball.

He gave you a wink, making you blush as you set your bag next to you. She immediately started talking about how all students who weren’t signed up to a club should do it before they got reprimanded for it.

A sheet with all the vacant club positions was passed to each student. It was on a first come first serve basis and considering the sheet was given to you first, you got the first chance at any club.

“Girls soccer.” No. “Body Improvement Club.” Absolutely not. “Ceramics.” No. “Boy’s Baseball Manager.” You thought for a moment before checking yes and handing it off to the person behind you.

“Welcome to the team, I’m Umemiya but you can call me Seiichi.” You jokingly rolled your eyes as he turned his desk to look at you. “You transferred from Seidou, right?”

You nodded as a light flared up in his eyes. “So why did you move?” You realized that you had to be honest instead of lying to the poor boy. “My parents got relocated to East Tokyo and I figured I might as well just transfer schools instead of traveling to Seidou everyday.”

“Wow, so since you are our new manager, we meet everyday after school until seven. After that, we usually all catch dinner together before we head to our dorms.” Umemiya exclaimed excitedly. “I can introduce you to our other manager, Matsubara!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his excitable attitude. It reminded you a lot of Sawamura, if you wanted to be honest. If you remembered correctly, Umemiya was the one who asked Sawamura if he was God after he ran out of toilet paper once.

“Let me see if we have the same schedule, I could show you around instead of having some awkward interaction with a student leader.” Umemiya mentioned as you fished your schedule out of your book bag and handed it to him. “We do! That’s awesome! I get to hang out with the cute new girl all day today!”

You could tell that Umemiya was very much the kind of person who didn’t hold his words back, even if that included making himself flustered because of it.

“Well, I’m glad that you’re aren’t bothered with having to show me around the school.” You mentioned as you gave him a small smile. You could tell that you made Umemiya’s heart start beating faster as his face turned a bright red. “So, want to head to Modern Lit?”

Umemiya nodded as he helped you gather your things before telling the student leader that he didn’t have any problem showing you around.

As the weeks kept rolling, so did your time with Umemiya. Being their manager did come with a lot of responsibilities. Not only did you manage the team but you also did have to help the student section with their cheers from time to time.

You also gained a strong friendship with Matsubara. Umemiya had told you the story about the accident he was involved in. As he told you the story, you couldn’t help but tear up at how passionate Umemiya got about giving Matsubara his last three years of high school to play baseball.

You had sent the entire team, including Matsubara, to dinner a few minutes early. You knew that they were starting to overwork themselves with the fall preliminary games starting up and you didn’t want any of them catch a cold before they started.

They were playing a few scratch games with any surrounding teams in Tokyo before the actual prelims started. You had the unfortunate luck to find out first that Seidou was going to be one of the scratch games Ugumori had to play.

“Hey, what are you doing out here? It’s dark and it isn’t safe for a girl to be walking to her dorms by herself at night.” You heard Umemiya said. You rolled your eyes knowing he meant nothing malicious by what he said but you knew how to take care of yourself. “I’m not a child, Seiichi. I can walk back by myself just fine.”

He could tell that something was bothering you. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” You sighed as you sat down in the dugout. You handed him the folder with all information on the scratch games.

“Read out the team you guys are playing first.” You mentioned as you watched him scan the paper. “Oh hey, we’re playing Seidou! That’s great but why are you upset about it?”

You sighed as you watched him sit down next to you. “Well, I never got around to mentioning this to you because I figured that it wasn’t important. Another reason why I left Seidou was because I dated their catcher for quiet a long time.” You explained. “Miyuki and I dated right before I transferred and right before I caught him cheating with one of the managers. I mean, I’m over him now but I really don’t feel like seeing his face.”

Umemiya laughed as he rubbed your back soothingly. “Well for what it’s worth, you deserve a lot better. Your a cute girl with a lot of potential and if he wasn’t able to see that, I know a lot of people who do.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you jokingly asked who did. “Well for starters, me.”

You whipped your head up at him. “What are you getting at?” He took your hand softly. “I don’t mean to insert myself into this narrative but I’ve been having Nao give me the courage to ask you out. I was thinking that we could go trick or treating this weekend together? Ugumori has a tradition of trick or treating around the dorms every year so we could coordinate costumes if you’d like?”

“Of course!” You said giving him a bright smile. “We can talk about our costumes tomorrow. I actually have rights to leave campus considering I live on this side of town so we could sneak out and get dinner if you’d like.”

Umemiya nodded as he gave you a kiss on top of your head. “That sounds perfect.”

The day that the trick or treating around the dorms landed, the both of you decided to go as baseball player. How cliche. You bought a cheap random girl baseball costume from the nearest halloween store and added the Ugumori patches on them.

Umemiya even gave you the option to wear his first year sweater as the two of you walked around the dorms. His number was slapped on the back and his last name was engraved onto the front.

The skirt that came with the costume was too short for your liking so you paired the skirt with baseball legging that went up to your knees. To say that Umemiya had to hold himself back from kissing you was an understatement.

The two of you even convinced Matsubara to join in and he dressed up as a catcher as Umemiya intentionally made himself the pitcher. By the time the trick or treating event was finished, the school faculty invited the students to have a halloween party in the gym.

Both you and Umemiya decided to go as Matsubara excused himself to find the rest of the team, claiming he didn’t want to continue third wheeling the date.

“Today was fun, wasn’t it?” You asked Umemiya as he nodded. Your hand had already made its way to holding his so you weren’t too subtle on the compliment. “I wish Seidou had done this.”

Umemiya gave you a smug look. “They might be one of the greatest baseball schools in Tokyo but Ugumori has a great party reputation as well as a great baseball devision.”

You laughed as the both of you took a turn to make the walk to the dorms last a bit longer. “Yeah, and there’s more where that came from if want to go out again.” You let out a mixture of another laugh but this time you couldn’t contain your squeal. “How would I look denying my boyfriend another date?”

This time, Umemiya was surprised at your sudden surge of confidence. “Well if that’s the case, my girlfriend now has to agree to every date I take her on.” You gave him a half sarcastic look. “Yeah unless they’re to places I dislike.” You countered as the both of you started laughing.

The both of you sat down on one of the benches as you cuddled up to Umemiya’s side. His hair was flowing in the wind as you jokingly tried to push it down. “You know that the 1950s are over, right?” He gave you a sharp look. “I like my hair. It’s what attracted the ladies before you came.”

“Yeah and your hair does not attract me but I’ll let you wear it because you’re so cute.” You said as you looked up to him. He gave you a smug look that made you want to melt in his arms.

Umemiya leaned in and gave you a kiss but all he was expecting it was to be a quick one. Once you deepened it, he was surprised to say the least. You slowly transitioned yourself to sit on top of his lap as he wrapped his arms around your waist as your legs wrapped around his waist.

The kiss continued on before you heard a scream from the dorm. “PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION ARE BANNED FROM THE DORMS STARTING RIGHT NOW.” You heard Matsubara say with an undertone of disgust. “NO ONE WANTS TO SEE BOTH OF YOU MAKING OUT IN PUBLIC!” You heard Kondou yell back.

The two of you started laughing as Umemiya screamed back, “DON’T BE JEALOUS BECAUSE I GOT THE HOTTEST GIRL IN SCHOOL!” They all yelled some form of profanities at him before you got off his lap.

“Let’s go to sleep before your teammates kill you.” You whispered as you gave him one quick kiss before walking towards the side of the school where the girls stayed. “Goodnight, Seiichi, have fun not getting made fun of tonight.”

The day of the prelim game with Seidou came. You were in the locker room with the boys after the coach gave you the clear that they were all dressed and waiting your instructions.

“So, this game is just a scratch off game but make sure you try your best because you know Seidou always does.” You mentioned as you let Matsubara continue take over.

He gave a few instructions to the team before all of you stood up and walked to through the doors of the stadium. Umemiya making sure he held your hand as the team walked into stadium. The cheers from the Ugumori stands were as loud as ever as all of you waved at them. They had cameras towards all of you as you were being broadcasted on the digital board.

“Hey, it’s ( your name )!” Sawamura exclaimed as they all whipped their head up at the board. “Oh look, she’s holding hands with Umemiya! Good for her!” Kuramochi mentioned as he gave the side eye to Miyuki.

He stayed quiet as they all went to the field to shake Ugumori’s hand. You sat next to Matsubara, talking quietly as players from both teams shook hands with each other.

“Hey, have a great game today!” Umemiya said to Miyuki as he got close to his ear. “Because you know ( your name ) is here and she isn’t cheering for you.” He whispered before pulling away and giving him a shit eating grin.

Umemiya knew this was his chance to give Miyuki his small piece of revenge and every time it was his turn to pitch, he made sure hit his hardest in order to give Miyuki a sore hand tomorrow morning.

You had no idea of his evil scheme but once the game finished and he told you, you couldn’t help but laugh. You had promised Kuramochi that you would tell him hello before he left so as you scanned the crowd for Kuramochi, Umemiya stood next to you.

“Hey Yoichi! How have you been?” You exclaimed as you gave him a smile. “You know Umemiya!” Kuramochi nodded as he gave a quick ‘bro’ hug to Umemiya.

“So are the two of you dating now?” Kuramochi asked. You nodded enthusiastically as you gave Umemiya quick peck, making the cheetah gag. “Yeah, I didn’t need to see that.” You and Umemiya laughed as the three of you chatted amongst each other.

“Yo, we need to head back to the dugout!” Matsubara screamed to you and Umemiya.

You gave Kuramochi a quick hug before telling him to text you when he got back to Seidou.

As the team was loading up the bus to head back, he couldn’t help but notice Miyuki’s dejected look. He knew that Miyuki seen the kiss you gave Umemiya and he knew you had every right to rub it in his face.

Kuramochi didn’t feel a bit sorry for him and knew that this would be the way Miyuki would learn his lesson.

ALITA

#Ace of Diamond #daiya no ace #daiya no ace x reader #ace of diamond imagine #ace of diamond x reader #daiya no ace imagine #miyuki kazuya #miyuki kazuya x reader #miyuki kazuya imagine #umemiya seiichi #umemiya seiichi imagine #umemiya seiichi x reader

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bookburnt · 4 years

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Going over the transcript of 102 (tw for bugs, body horror in that link) has got me... thinking thoughts about the Gertrude - Gerard dynamic.

There are three things that stood out to me in this episode with regards to Gertrude and Gerard. And yeah I’m about to get into all of them now. Buckle up.

First off - in the very same episode where Jon discovers his newfound ability as a universal translator, the statement specifically mentions that Gerry's grasp of French was "significantly better" than Gertude's, enough so that he acted as her translator when speaking with the statement giver (which serves as the basis of this headcanon over here).

As we later learn, Gertrude had much the same abilities as Jon, but hated using them. The only reason she would need to rely on Gerard's translation was to keep as much distance between herself and the Eye as possible. Maybe maintaining this distance helped her retain the ability to hide certain things from Elias (though, given what we know about Elias in the wake of S4's finale, how much reason do we have to trust him when he tells Jon that Gertude managed to hide her plan for dealing with the Unknowing from him?) or maybe it was really nothing more than a matter of distaste. Either way, no need for her to bother with it when her assistant could take on the duty instead.

Which then brings us to the matter of why Gerard was so capable in French. It’s possible, of course, that he learned French the old-fashioned way - he did grow up travelling with Mary quite a bit, after all, and there’s no reason to believe that the woman who taught herself Sanskrit would skimp on the linguistic elements of her heir’s education - but we also can’t rule out that Gerard’s fluency had some connection to the Eye’s habits as translator. He’s shown capacity for Knowing before; see ep. 012, for instance, where he manages to simply know the passcode to a locked door in an unfamiliar hospital. That sort of focused, intentional Knowing is something that doesn’t come easily to Jon, even well into his journey as the Archivist - meaning it must be a sign of a pretty impressive connection to the Eye, considering Gerry wasn’t even approaching the Eye through the gates of the Magnus Institute. Given that, I think spooky translation powers would be well within Gerry’s wheelhouse.

But we also know that Gerry wasn’t feeding the Eye. At all. And that can’t have been good for his health, given the results we see when Jon falters in feeding it. At the time of the statement given in ep.102, Gerry was less than six months away from his own death. (Maybe it was just a tumor like any other tumor. People die of cancer all the time, after all, and even if Gerry wasn’t old, he wasn’t exactly young, either. Maybe, despite every horror in his life, Gerard Keay somehow managed to live long enough to die a normal, natural death. Or maybe he didn’t.) Gertrude knew he was dying. And if she knew why - well, either way, it wasn’t enough to get her to translate for herself. Spooky French or no spooky French, he didn’t have long left on the world anyways, and she had a plan for what came next. (More on that here.) And Gerard - well. Even if he had any idea what was happening to him, he was never any good at the kind of self-preservation that requires stepping back from another person.

Secondly. Gerry wanted to burn the building touched by the Hive down to the ground. Gertrude disagreed, preferring to hand the matter over to the cops instead. (I doubt that was all she did about it, that being said, but whatever her methods were in this instance, they stopped short of torching the whole place.) I don’t have quite as much analysis on this point as I did on the first, but it’s interesting to see a situation wherein Gertrude “Ruthless” Robinson was advocating restraint while Gerard was voting for total destruction. (There are consequences of total destruction, of course. Bit messy to clean up in a populated area, and people ask questions.) The statement giver shared Gerry’s opinions on eradicating whatever remained, but ultimately, Gertrude had things her way.

Thirdly - this last one is more of a big picture thing. The statement in this episode is about... a false sense of family, really. Poor, lonely Benoît Maçon, finding company at last in the Hive’s embrace. His beloved wife, his darling little ones - all parasites worming their way into his life through the pretense of family, of belonging, of love.

Like many people who met Gertrude and Gerard traveling together, the statement giver assumes at first that they are mother and son. However, at the time of giving the statement, he is under no such illusion - he speaks of the assumption in past tense, and refers to Gerard as your associate, your young colleague. It’s not specified exactly when or why he stopped believing the two were family; they were both in the habit of going along with the charade for others, so I doubt either of them told him. I wonder if it had anything to do with the main focus of this statement - the moment of seeing the true face of Benoît’s loving family as they crawled over him. I wonder what he saw between Gertrude and her associate, after that.

And I wonder what Gerry saw that made him so eager to burn it all down.

#//for those of you who are new to the swidblog experience: welcome to the [sprawling meta exploded from moments of seeming irrelevance]#// slash [info posts linked to other info posts] slash ''more on that later'' zone #//things will only continue to happen from here.#I'm writing this letter and wishing you well | RE: GERTRUDE ⚿#a heart attack in black hair dye | CHARACTER ANALYSIS ⚿#//i really need a tag for me going off the shits with the theorizing

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clairen45 · 5 years

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About that Dark Visions comic...

I think it’s fair to say that when Marvel’s Dark Visions miniseries about Vader as seen from a different perspective was announced, everybody was excited. We have been hammered on the head since ROTS that “there are heroes on both sides” , and with the expectations concerning the end of the saga as a massive redemption and hope plot, you were bound to be curious about what they would come up with. TBH, I was not expecting to see a softer side to Vader. It would be wrong to expect anything like that, and it would somehow diminish from what happens to him in the OT. He is supposed to be more machine than man. So, no, I definitely did not expect him, or wished him to be the kind of guy operating as the Death Star Secret Santa, knitting socks for the poor and needy, or rescuing people’s pets. It was not my understanding that he was much loved by his Imperial “colleagues” either. When we first see him in ANH; he is derided and dismissed both by a colleague (sorry, forgot the name but you all know whose faithless person I am thinking of) and Leia. Respected for sure, because of the fear he instills in people. So if awe is obviously the right word to use, in the most etymological sense of the term, that is to say “ a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder”, how many people found Vader awesome? Besides the audience. There had to be. And as a concept, it was pretty cool.

That being said, if you think of the title for the series, there were already many ways of interpreting it. Dark Visions... Visions of the power of the Dark Side? The way some people saw Vader? The way Vader thought people saw him? Did the stories happen for real or are they just what the title imply they are: visions. Images. Fantasies. Daydreams or nightmares? Possibly just the imagination of some deranged mind. There is something there that implies that we are not dealing with something too objective. But rather something unhinged and disturbing.

Now, I intend to keep this in mind about the issue that has been raising so much concern: “Tall, Dark, and Handsome”. I think malaise is really the word we should settle for. This issue is problematic in many ways.

For those who haven’t read it or just heard about it through social media and people complaining about it (possibly people on the other side of the spectrum fanning about it), this is how you can sum it up: this is the first person narrative of an unnamed nurse, working on the Death Star for Vader’s personal doctor. The nurse has developed an obsessive infatuation for Vader that has her snoop around him and collect bits and pieces about him (mostly gorish remains of his time at the medical bay) that she hides in her room. She keeps on daydreaming about him and the connection she thinks they have, until one day she musters up her courage and goes to talk to him in his private quarters in order to let him know of her love for him. He cuts her off in all the meanings of the word, both interrupting her speech of eternal devotion and undying love, and piercing her through with his saber. Last moment we see her is lying dead on the floor while he moves away and asking for the sanitation to rid him of the “garbage”.

Ok, that’s a tall order. Here are points that I find entirely problematic.

1.The Question of Agency:

The authors decided to give a voice, a narrative agency to a character that is presented as inconsequential to the story. She is an anonymous nurse, a dot, in the bigger picture of the Empire. Much, let’s say, like our current ST heroes: Rey, Finn, and Rose, who started as “nobody”, even more so in the case of Finn and Rey who have literally been deprived of their identities. You could think it’s cool to thus give a voice to this nurse. Even more so when you consider that throughout the comic, she is presented as downtrodden, poor, pushed over, abused physically and verbally, dismissed, and despised. Her employer disrespects her constantly, calling her “fool”, “idiot”, or “stupid”. He shoves her around, and also diminishes her job, calling it “not a real job” or insinuating that she does not do her job correctly. Cases in point:

And what do we get in this story? A female nobody who starts asserting herself. Wow.

She tells her own story. First person narrative. She becomes an agent.

Look at the evolution of her daydream fantasies. She starts from damsel in distress who needs a man to protect her from her daily abuser

From nurse whose job means something, to a solid professional, and equal partner to her fantasy Lord:

And finally a powerful woman in her own rights, even overshadowing her partner, and who is able to defend herself.

Which then matures into her mustering up the courage to speak for herself, and tell her feelings to the (unwilling) object of her affection.

Except that.... well...she is just presented as a massive psycho. And, ok, it’s fair, we all know that there are female stalkers, and that her obsession for Vader is totally crazy because she doesn’t know anything about him, and she actually fell for someone who was treating her as poorly as the others. But there is the malaise there... The mix of female empowerment and batshit craziness. That’s what put a lot of people ill-at-ease. I wouldn’t even call that subversion, because, dudes, what are we subverting there exactly. It’s not like women are not daily abused and treated poorly at work and in their relationships on a daily basis... And are we supposed to take that as a cautionary tale about fangirl craziness? Because, there again, why did they need to have that girl get such a shitty treatment all through the comic. It is like the comic says that she deserved it. In the end it’s not just Vader calling her trash. It’s also the doctor calling her trash for most of the comic, and even have her literally waddle in a trash compactor. Cause this was supposed to be subtle?

Like, fine, if it were only Vader calling her garbage because the man is just dead inside, which, fairly, is represented in the comic. But it’s just not Vader, it is the way the character is presented through the eyes of the doctor AND even through the eyes of a cartoonist who keeps on representing her with the stupidest darned faces.

And there is no other viewpoint. Family, friends, other nurses or colleagues who could give us another idea about her. Or explain why she is like that. Nope. Basically, this woman is given a voice just so she can be cut off mid-sentence and made... fun of... I guess? Was that the author’s goal? Is it what we are supposed to feel? About this pathetic character and her pathetic life, dreams, goals, feelings, and eventual demise?

The “Subversion” of Female Romantic Tropes

Like ... LOL... How is that “subverted” anyways? But, ok, let’s go through them. It has all the classic elements of female literature.

The Cinderella story: nobody falls for high lord and expects to be swooped off her feet. Complete with ball scene, because, yes, why not? I give them a point, though, for the cool reflection on the ground which has her in her regular scrubs... BTW, Beauty and the Beast in the mix as well.

the nurse complex! Otherwise known as the Florence Nightingale effect. You know, woman is going to take care of the guy... They even made her a real nurse! Again, so subtle. Couldn’t make her any other profession and still be victim of this complex.

the reference to so-called “trashy” female lit, think bodice ripping, Harlequin, and their infamous covers. Even the title of the comic: “Tall, Dark, and Handsome”

The effing Phantom of the Opera!

and of course all the female discourse about love, because, yep, trashy: “kindred spirits” etc...

And again, how are we supposed to interpret it? Well, hang on, this woman, remember, is a bat-shit crazy deluded psycho, who has delusions about life and love. Oh, and the doctor says she is trash. And he throws all her stupid gory, disgusting trickets in the trash. Oh and also Vader says she is garbage. Well. Ok. So, I guess all of that which mattered to her, all her ideas, all that she loved, was just that. Trash. Garbage. Well, take that, you female reader!

But wait, it gets even better...

Star Wars is just trash!

Yep, because on closer look, most of the fantasies this woman has are very Star-Warsy. I am floored that they are actually trashing these:

Anakin and Padmé’s Naboo scenery, green, lush, terrace, nightgowns...

The scene when Anakin learns about Padmé’s death:

and of course, the one that you were not expecting... Reylo... “You are not alone”

Again, why is this problematic? In itself, it is fine and fair to be making fun of trashy female literature and campy romance novels, it is also fine to make fun of crazy stalkers, and it is also fine to be making fun of Star Wars. So why does it feel so icky in this comic somehow?

You can’t help but feel disgusted when you consider how poorly this woman is represented. There is not one aspect of her life that is not ridiculed. And again, this is about a woman who has NOTHING. They could have the girl fall in love with Vader and being killed by him because he is a cold-hearted machine. He killed his wife, the love of his life, so yea, of course he will feel not a pang of remorse or hesitation at killing this nobody who thinks she is in love with him. But they did not need to make fun of the very little she had in her life: her dreams. Her effing dreams. Plus the crazy stalker psycho. And the crazy face. And the fact that again we are talking about a woman, who had NOTHING. No family, no connection, no friends, no respect at work, not many possessions except her sad little Vader treasure chest.

And again, context. Here we are, reading a Star Wars comic where a lot of fanboys have been using the EXACT same terms to ridicule women in the fandom. Especially in the Reylo context. Trash. Garbage. Crazy bitches. Ridiculing theories about ... well, well, ain’t it a sweet surprise... Phantom of the Opera, or Beauty and the Beast parallels with Reylo. I’ll be damned. It feels crazy awkward, if you ask me. I mean, again, it’s all fair, but you don’t do that when you are in the midst of a toxic fandom war.

So why do I give zero F... about it in the end?

If some antis in the fandom saw that as validation, well, let them have their moment of happiness. It won’t last. We can give them that.

One, I don’t think for one second that it means anything about what will happen in the ST as far as Reylo is concerned. Again, they are even making fun of Anidala in the comic, and dude, that thing happened. As my good friends from @lordsofthesithpodcast would tell you after their glorious SWCC panel : Romance, these ships belong in Star Wars.

Two, as I highlighted in the introduction, this belongs in the Dark Visions series. It is meant, in my own opinion, to be disturbing and unhinged. Not sugar coated. So maybe the whole point was shock value. Mission accomplished. It was poor taste again given the context and the awful treatment THEY (and not just Vader) give their female character, but yea, dark visions. Not Star Wars Adventures. You have to look at the target audience and everything.

Three, if it were not for the in-your-face references to female tropes, I actually took most of it as a critique of fandom in general. The problem is not that she is a fangirl. There are some crazy obsessive fangirls, mind you. The problem is that they are making fun of all things female on top of that. But, remove the romantic aspects. Couldn’t that apply to fanboys as well? I could totally picture a cadet, or some other young imperial, developing the same crazed obsession over Vader. And it was just as toxic. And, tbh, it could very well be. Collecting trinkets is not just a girl thing, and after seeing with my own eyes the tons of merch purchased by fanboys at the recent SWCC convention, or the obsessive way some guy could talk to you about Vader and the minute trivial details in his life, or that they are the only ones understanding the guy, well yea... it works...

I’ll even go a step further. I wondered for a sec if the whole thing was not even a critical meta about the franchise as a whole. Let me explain. Some fanboys have complained about the femininization of the franchise, that is “polluting” the shades of Pemberley, I mean Star Wars. Claiming that what is happening right now is utter garbage. Also also, I have another possible reading which has the nurse representing the current state of the fandom and how crazy obsessed they can be over a franchise that some currently view as tired and dead inside (especially since it has fallen into the fold of Disney). Representing the unhealthy relationship between the two. And guess what, it doesn’t end well for the fandom. Who will never get what they want.

I will finally quote this from Chuck Wendig who was fired from the project and came up with that particular comment on Twitter, and which actually seems to go with how I tried to read it myself:

Apropos of absolutely nothing, my issue three of SHADOW OF VADER was about a toxic fanboy (a morgue attendant on the Death Star) who became obsessed with Vader. (And it didn’t end well for him. Er, obviously.) I thought it was good and I’m sorry you won’t see it! Onward we go.

I think they kept some of the original idea from Wendig, but it took a turn for the worse. It would be great if the authors cared to explain about their intent for this piece if any. I am not saying they should. I actually totally respect and support full freedom of speech and authorial choices. It is our choice, then, as a reader to read or not the material we don’t care about. I am just curious to know their opinion I guess, and I was not able to find any comment online. If anyone has a reference, I am interested...

In any event, I think everyone should read the comic for themselves if they are curious about it. Better to make your own opinion about it.

#reylo fandom #star wars comics #dark visions #darth vader dark visions #tall dark and handsome

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lurafita · 5 years

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It’s not easy to kidnap Spiderman

There are so, S.O., many fanfics that have normal, human, non-enhanced criminals successfully kidnapping Peter Parker. And I may have ranted about how people always noob Peter down too much, but it just baffles me every time.

And you can of course always make the argument that Peter isn’t willing to risk his secret identity, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use a fraction of his abilities to incapacitate his kidnappers and get away.

So, keeping that in mind, I wrote a little crack piece. By the by, Tony hasn’t sold the Tower and I am completely and blissfully ignoring Infinity War. Thanos can chuck himself into a freaking volcano.

Tony was in his workshop, deep in an inner debate with himself about re-enabling the BabyMonitorProtocol. He knew that, in a way, it was an invasion of privacy and might even be interpreted as distrust in Peter’s abilities and resposibilities as a hero. And that was definitely NOT what he wanted to convey. Peter had a unique and diverse skillset. With the right training (it had taken 3 weeks for them to figure out what actually worked for Peter) he had come a long way in properly using and controlling his powers, without having to compromise himself by holding back too much in a fight. Peter knew when a situation required back up and would never risk the safety of civilians by entering a fight that had him hopelessly outmatched. Peter knew that Tony would always, always, come when he called. (They had had a very, v.e.r.y. long discussion about that. ) Tony trusted the kid.

BUT, that didn’t change the fact that what the kid was doing, was dangerous.

Spiderman didn’t just swing around tall buildings (at speeds and altitudes that gave Tony heart palpitations), or rescue little kittens out of trees.

Spiderman caught out of control vehicles in busy traffic. Spiderman leapt into burning buildings. Spiderman got fucking SHOT AT!

Tony had, of course, improved the suit and made it as sturdy and safe as humanly possible. But considering that the material couldn’t be too thick, so as not to impede his sticky appendages, nor too hard, so as not to restrict his super-human flexibility, there were simply limits to what could be done. One of those limits, frustratingly, was that Tony hadn’t yet found a way to make the suit bulletproof.

And yes, Peter had the ability to dodge gunfire (thank god for the spider-sense), but that didn’t automatically make things safer. Superheroes were just as likely (sometimes even more so) to make mistakes as the next person. Sometimes you underestimate your opponent. Sometimes you zig, when you should zag. Sometimes things just go wrong.

Add to that how Peter liked to hide injuries from his aunt as well as his mentor/dad (because Tony had signed the shit out of those adoption/shared custody agreement papers as soon as May Parker had given her blessing), and it was really no wonder that Tony found himself counting new grey hairs on a weekly basis.

He would just feel that much better if the BabyMonitorProtocol was back up and he would be appraised of every little scuffle, altercation and injury as they happened, all the time, 24 fucking 7. No, he was not an overprotective helicopter parent, stop laughing Rhodey!

“Incoming call from Peter Parker.” Friday’s voice cut suddenly through his thoughts.

Tony took a deep, apprehensive breath. Just because the kid called right then didn’t have to mean he was in trouble. This could be a purely social call. Get it together.

“Put him through, Fri. Hey Pete.”

“Hi Mr. Stark!” Good, the kid sounded neither distressed, nor hurt. There was no gunfire, screaming or sounds of explosions in the backround. Just a social call then, thank god.

“Whats up, kid? Someone treat you to a churro again?” He smirked at hearing the put upon sigh from the other end of the line.

“Is anyone ever going to let this go? She was a nice lady and it was a yummy snack. I regret nothing.”

“Of course. So, what’s shaking? You are not calling to bail on me for our lab time later, are you?” He leaned back in his chair, relaxed smile on his lips.

“Oh god, please, no one says ‘what’s shaking’ anymore, Dad.” Peter whined and Tony’s smile grew. They had a weird relationship with names. For Tony it was Kid, Spiderling, Underoos, any variation he could come up with for the name Peter, and (the newest one) Son. While Peter liked to cycle through Mr. Stark, Tony, and more and more regularly, Dad. If Tony’s eyes were a teeny, tiny bit wet the first time Peter called him ‘Dad’, no one had to know.

“Anyway, the reason why I’m calling is,... uhm... well....” UhOh. That was Peter’s ‘I may be in trouble’ voice.

Tony snapped back upright in the chair, as the kid continued.

“...the thing is, I’m currently in the office of the Captain of the New York Police Department, and-”

“WHAT?!” He sprang up off his seat. “Friday! My suit! Now!”

“No, no no no no. Wait! Tony, wait! Calm down. It’s nothing bad”

Yeah, he was NOT reassured. The kid had once stumbled into the tower after patrol, hand pressed against a six inch long stab wound gushing blood, and claimed it was ‘nothing bad’.

“What happened? Why are you in the Captains office? Are you hurt?” The Ironman suit continued to assemble around his body as Friday opened one of the floor to ceilling windows for his take off.

“Not hurt, I promise. It’s just that Captain Stacy thought this call would better be made in privat and the bullpen was kinda loud, though there was this really cool guy who-”

“PETER!” This kid! (”5 minutes until you arrive at the NYPD, Sir.”)

“Right, right, sorry. So, I was just on my way home, minding my own business, and maybe hoping that that cute german shephard would be out in his yard again and I could play with him a little and NOT THE POINT, sorry, so, me just walking along the street, totally innocent, and then suddenly this white panel van parks a few feet in front of me.”

Oh god. That was exactly how crime and horror movies started, wasn’t it? Was now the right time to have a panic attack? (”4 minutes to destination.”)

“And then this man gets out, pretty buff and tall and I was just a little bit jealous, because like, I can benchpress a french frying* [*earlier post on how Peter avoids a ‘language lecture’ by swearing using food names] bus with no sweat and still have total noodle arms, and how is that fair”

“PETER!” This KID! (”3 minutes to destination”)

“Sorry! So, the guy asks me for directions to cityhall, but he doesn’t get it when I explain it to him, so he asks if I would ride with him and show him. And, like, my spidey-sense is this low buzz, like, this guy is probably up to no good, but not a real threat to me, right? And he said he would drive me back later and that he had some candy as a thank you, so-”

“You got into the van?!” Forget the panic attack, his fucking heart was about to stop!

“Did you not hear me mention the part where he promised me candy?”

Which arm was supposed to hurt again when you got a heart attack? This fucking kid! (”2 minutest to destination.”)

“Anyway, I climb into the passenger side and the guy starts the engine and all of a sudden my spidey sense is blaring and I slip down in the seat, before the guy that was hiding in the back can press his knife to my throat.”

Oh god oh god oh god.

“So then I grab the hand and twist it just a little, until he has to let go of the knife, and he screams and the knife falls right beside the hand brake. But then the buff guy driving makes a grab for it, so I punch him in the face, right? But I may have punched just a little bit too hard, cause next thing I know, he is unconcious and his head has fallen on the car horn in the middle of the steering wheel. And now the van is still going, but no one is steering and I still have the other guy’s arm at this angle that must have been incredibly uncomfortable for him, because he just keeps on screaming and the donuts* car horn is really french frying* loud and it’s all giving me a headache. So I pull back and knock the guy behind me out, too, and grab the wheel and yank it to the other side, because we were about to hit a tree. I get the buff guy off the steering wheel, and thank god, finally some quiet, but his foot is still on the gas, so I grab the hand brake and yank it up. And then the tires are squeeling and the engine is stuttering and I might have knicked my hand on the knife that had fallen there earlier, so I’m a little startled and yank the wheel again and then the van crashed into a parking police car.”

There is a moment of silence, Tony can see the NYPD building in the distance. (”30 seconds to destination, boss. May I suggest some mild breathing exercises to slow your heartbeat down some?”)

“But don’t worry! By that time the van had slowed down enough that the damage wasn’t too bad. Though Detective Mahoney spilled his coffee all over his shirt.” Ironman landed in front of the station, drawing quite a few looks all around him. “So I explain everything to the Detective Mahoney and his partner Detective Sanchez, who is like super cool and promised to help me study for my next spanish exam.” The suit dissembled around him and formed into a suitcase in his hand as Tony Stark, clad in a faded band shirt and soft blue pyjama pants (it was supposed to be his day off and he had, for once, slept in), ran up the stairs (as if he would waste time waiting for the elevator) to where he knew the Captains office was (Thanks Friday). “Turns out, these guys have been kidnapping kids like this for the last four weeks and were waiting to get two more to ship off to some kind of slave trade ring in a foreign country. So the Detectives interrogated them and got the location for where they are hiding the poor, missing kids and like half the precinct is on their way to free them.” One more floor and he would be there. At least now the heavy breathing could be attributed to running up so many fucking stairs. “I tried to slip away and get in the suit and follow the police cars, make sure the kids are alright and all, you know? But then the Captain came up to me and clapped me on the shoulder and was like ‘Good job, kid. That was very brave, but now lets call your parents and make sure you get home safe.’ And then he led me into his office and sat me on his couch, which is nowhere near as comfy as the ones in the tower, but whatever, and told me to call someone and that he would come back to talk to us a little later.” It wasn’t every day that Tony Stark bursts through the doors of the Major Crime unit of the New York Police Department in the clothes he slept in, so the officers in the room could be excused for any open mouthed gaping that may have taken place. “And, you know, Aunt May just came off a double shift in the hospital and I really didn’t wanna wake her, so I thought I better call you instead. So, can you come over to the NYPD? But like, don’t stress. If you have something important to do, that’s totally okay. I can just hang around for a few hours until May has gotten enough sleep and call her then. And maybe Detective Sanchez will-”

Peter was interrupted from his call when the door to the Captains office nearly flew off its hinges as Tony ran right in, a desperate, slightly manic look in his eyes. “Oh, that was quick. Hey Dad.”

THIS FUCKING KID!

And yes, fine, it may not be much of an exaggeration when Peter later complained that Tony cuddled him on that couch for the better part of 20 minutes. It may also be true that he threatened to sue everyone and their mother more than once, everytime someone from the police department tried to interrupt his, very justified, fussing over his kid. He also makes damn sure that Peter doesn’t leave his direct proximity for the entire time they stay at the station. Peter gave his official statement, they got to watch when the freed kids were reunited with their overjoyed, tearful parents, who all come over to thank Peter in person for his part in finding their children, and Detective Sanchez gave Peter her card and personal number for those spanish lessons. During all that time, Tony has managed to inform May, Pepper and Happy about everything, and the three soon join them at the station. While May and Pepper take over fussing over Peter and hugging him to death (the kid sends him a very nasty look over the womens shoulders), Tony is already on his phone, programming Karen to reengage the BabyMonitorProtocol and sending the code to one of his Stark watches that he is going to fucking weld around the kids wrist so he can never take it off. He doesn’t even care how much Rhodey laughs at and calls him an overprotective helicopter parent again later.

#peter parker #tony stark #iron dad #spider son #tony is a stressed dad #attempted kidnapping #peter is a badass #bamf peter #iron man #spiderman #op lurafita

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diningpageantry · 5 years

Text

First Days

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672919/chapters/44630452

Chapter 2/12 of Proximity (The Collision of Lonely Men)

Word Count: 2451

Chapter Summary: Simon makes a friend, and maybe an enemy at the same time.

First days send me back to being a teen.

The anxious new faces and tired, sagging ones of upperclassmen trying to get around them. The pushing, the shoving. The new class schedules, and the confused kids who don't even know who they are, much less what they're doing.

Thankfully, now, I get to watch it from afar. Although I feel like I'm locked up in a tower.

This is the shittiest fairy tale I could imagine.

Brushing my hands over the stack of papers laid out on my desk, I let the day's weight ease onto me. I only have five appointments today, but that doesn't mean I won't get bombarded by students trying to change their classes last minute. I know how it is, I shadowed a public school counselor for a year.

The pile of work out in front of me is a bit dense, but easy. New students, all second or third year transfers. And… lunch is in four hours. That's, at least, something to look forward to.

Well, except for being thrown further into that teenaged “Who do I sit with” bullshit. I haven't left my room much in the past week, and I highly doubt Mr. Stick In The Arse will let me sit beside him (though, I wouldn't be shocked to find that he sits alone). That, of course, leaves me with no other option that the fact that I'll be standing alone, waiting to find the furthest spot from everyone else.

Brilliant.

I get halfway through my morning before the Dean stops in, standing at my doorway as I'm rearranging a student's schedule. He knocks once, sending me jumping before I straighten up. “Oh, hello. Good morning sir--David.”

His nose turns up unimpressively. “You'll be introduced before lunch so that the faculty knows you beyond a welcome email.”

Well, there's no yes or no to that. Guess it's an order. “Okay. I'll be there.”

After nodding briefly and flicking his wrist watch out for a look, he turns on his heel and leaves me without another word.

I know I've never had a father, but he's the closest thing to a disappointed, high standards parent I think I've ever gotten, and it's only been a week.

Checking the time doesn't prove to be much of a spirit lifter. 10:48. Lovely.

I stare out the window, pen clicking impulsively in my hand as I follow a few leaves fluttering across a sidewalk. Empty. It's all empty. Locked away classrooms and borderline solitary confinement for me.

I introduced myself to the other counselor. She's in her late 60s and seems very cold. I doubt I'll talk to her much except for good mornings. That, of course, leaves me knowing three people so far. The Dean, Professor Pitch, and her.

I might as well count the pigeons I fed last night as friends too. They've paid more attention to me than anyone else around here.

Exhale. Slow, steady exhale, blowing out through my mouth.

It feels like a century before lunch finally hits. It takes me a bit of navigating, but I finally find the building after roaming the grounds for a good 10 minutes. Once inside, I steer myself towards the lunch line, avoiding the watchful eyes of students and faculty alike, starting to fill up the rooms.

I'm guilty of stuffing as much food as possible onto my tray, swiping my ID, and scuffling back to the staff dining room. It's empty, all but for the Dean, who's pacing towards the back. Such an odd man. “David?” I manage out, weight shifting nervously from foot to foot.

His head perks up, fingers resting upon his chin. “Ah yes, Mr. Snow. Thank you for being early. Come, sit.”

Following orders is easy to do. Take a seat and stare at my hands as others filter through. I worry that I'm sat in someone else's “spot” as a short, unamused woman takes a seat a few chairs around away from me. She gives me a familiar once over, looking through the top of her glasses before she shoves down a mouthful of salad.

A hand clasps over my shoulder, snapping my from my trance and jolting me standing. It feels as though the entire room is staring (they probably are). Scurrying quickly, I find myself standing feet away from the Dean, nervously picking at the pills of my jumper. Everyone falls silent at the wave of his hand--it's like magic.

“I'd like to take this opportunity, as we're all already gathered, to allow our new guidance counselor, Mr. Snow, to introduce himself.” Introduce myself?

“Uh, yes. Yeah. Thank you.” I stumble over my words, eyes scanning the crowd as I pull at my sleeve. I'm absolutely shit at public speaking, on top of barely being able to form a solid sentence in the first place. Brilliant. “I--uh--hi. Hello. I'm Simon. 26, just moved from London. I-I was a social worker for kids in the system, helping them get proper care and whatnot. I took this job to save up a bit, though. Social work isn't really lucrative, and I have bills.” I try laughing, but it comes out more as a nervous chuckle. “Besides that, I-I'm always up for a chat. I quite like football, I suppose. So yeah. That's… that's pretty much it.”

My hands rest on my thighs, back hunching in the slightest as the Dean looks over, nodding and finally letting me go back to eat without all the eyes in the room on me. Except, when I do sit, the woman with cat-eye glasses is staring at me again.

Slowly, I open my mouth, trying to formulate a response. She cuts in before I can.

“You don't have to move, you're fine here.” Oh well, that's lovely information.

“Thanks,” I exhale, squinting at her ID. “Penelope, is it?”

“Call me Penny,” she shrugs off, picking up her napkin and wiping her face. The rings on the fingers shine slightly in the dull light, catching my eye as I count them off.

“Are you engaged?” I ask rather bluntly, eyes following her right hand. There's a rather nice ring on her finger--I can see it closer now, as she extends her hand and offers a look.

“Mmhm,” she begins. “He lives in America, though. He was studying abroad in uni. He flies out every summer to see me. This year, I flew out to surprise him in more than one way.” She admires the glint, and I can't help but study her. She's interesting. Smart. Large personality, larger hair.

“What's his name?”

“Micah.” Her hand settles back on the table. “Anyway. Enough about me. Who the hell are you, really?”

I hold back a careless snort, poking at my food. “I'm… nobody important, really.”

“That's bullshit if I've ever heard it. Where are you from? Your accent doesn't sound like London.”

Good question. “Here and there,” I shrug. It isn't exactly a lie. “I settled for secondary in London, though, and that's where I stayed through uni.”

She side eyes me, taking a few bites as I shovel in my own food. I'd be more embarrassed if it wasn't for the fact that my back is to most of the room. Still, she's looking at me the same way Agatha would at fancy dinners--like I have no table manners (because I barely do).

She lets me finish before she starts up conversation again. Given it's me, it doesn't take long for that to happen. “So, who'd they put you up with?”

“As in, my roommate?”

She nods, peering around.

“Well, uh… Mr. Pitch. I don't really know how to say his first name, but--”

“Basilton?!” She whispers hushly, eyes raising before she laughs. “Oh you poor bastard, they put you with Mr. Prick.”

“Mr. Prick…?”

She waves a hand dismissively, sipping her coffee as she holds back a grin. “That's what the students call him. Rightfully so, I'd say. He's quite the wound up loon, if you ask me.”

I can't help myself from looking around, trying to find him to get a good look. I catch him, eventually, sitting in the near back, alone at a table with earbuds in and a book in hand. He's got the signature scowl on his face. “What's… he do? What's the deal with him?”

She's rolling her eyes when I look back. “Tenured in. Did they not tell you what he does?” I shake my head. “Brilliant. Well, he's head of the English and Literature department--I teach 10th and 11th year Lit and Creative Writing--and everyone who has him says he's an absolute nightmare. It's a shock that anyone takes his Queer Lit course.”

“Queer Lit?”

She nods dramatically. “See, fun as all hell course. Wilde, Shakespeare, Nin! I'd campaigned to teach it, but he got first call on it, being the teacher for the Gender Sexuality Alliance.”

I stop, cogs turning as I stare down at the grease streaking my plate. It processes slowly, then all at once. “Is he… you know…”

She laughs again--this time, it's a big, snorty laugh. Once she calms down, she gives a final chuckle. “Are you asking if Mr. Pitch is gay?”

I give her a shrug, blinking back to reality. “I-I mean, there's nothing wrong with it! Nothing at all, I'm just… I didn't know, and--”

Her hand settles over mine. “Don't get your knickers twisted. He is. Just thought it was evident, given literally everything about him.”

I glance back again, and I swear on my year's salary that he was looking at me. “I don't like to assume,” I add back into the conversation.

“There's a difference between assumption and context clues, dear.” The bell rings, cutting her short as she sighs. “Well, fuck. I've got a group of clueless 15 year olds to yell at. I'll save you a spot at dinner.”

And with that, I think I've made my first friend (well, besides the pigeons).

It's a pain to drag through the rest of the day. Even though the classes usually wrap in the mid afternoon, my office hours are locked into staying until half an hour before dinner. Basis of this? Fuck everything, and I need to buy snacks to hide in my desk.

I spend roughly half of it staring out the window or playing solitaire on my computer, and the other half was spent reworking schedules to the stuck up kids whimsy. I wonder if part of my job description is “doormat”, and I just hadn't read it clearly enough.

When I'm finally able to lock up and go to eat, I'm feeling half starved and completely exhausted. Thank God Penny seems to like talking, because she spends the entirety of our meal wholeheartedly ranting about how much young boys are the absolute worst group to teach.

“I should've taken the job at the all girls prep,” she huffs, practically throwing down her soup spoon. “Imagine how much happier I would have been not having to ask a boy to not replace ‘rump’ with ‘asscheeks’.”

“Why didn't you take the job?”

“Same reason as everyone else--money.”

I nod solemnly, taking another mouthful of baked chicken.

She keeps going. Long enough for me to get the occasional word in, but not so little that I have to talk often. By the time everyone's starting to file out, she's finally wrapping up her story about her least favorite student so far.

Thankfully, there aren't many students out and about once we're done. They're all scuffling off to the library or any other hang out on campus.

Penny and I part ways by the dorms. As per usual, Mr. Pitch has me locked out (or is it Basilton? Is what what people actually call him?) When I step in after scraping my keys around to find the right one and actually get in, I find him sitting right by the door on the sofa, doing work. That bastard.

He looks up, lips curving distastefully as I carefully close the door behind me. And thus, I'd assume, begins our nightly routine of avoidance. I lock myself in my room, and only step out for maybe a glass of water.

Tonight, though, I suppose I have something to attempt a conversation. “So…” I begin, fiddling with my glass as I stand in the kitchen. The light's off, but the soft yellow of the living room lamp washes over us, making the room feel all toned down. “You teach English, yeah?”

He doesn't turn, still seeming to stare ahead. “Yes, Snow. Astounding conclusion.”

“I… I'd meant that Penelope told me--”

“So you're all pals with Bunce then. Good. She's been sat alone for some time now.”

It hurts a bit, coming from him. As if he's assuming we're both too much of outcasts to be friends with anyone but each other. I worry that, maybe, he's right.

I inhale slowly before continuing. “She said you teach Queer Lit, and that you run the GSA. That's…” I think for a second--a long pause--trying to find the right word.

It's a second too long in his eyes, because he whips around quickly and stares me down. “Don't bother finishing that sentence, Snow. I don't need to hear semi coherent blubbering about how brave I am. Yes, I'm gay. So kindly fuck off.”

I freeze momentarily, glass squeezed tighter in my hand as I stand bolt-still. He stares back, sighing exaggeratedly after a minute before going back to his work.

Taking the glass back, I try not to slam my bedroom door.

Does he have to be an absolute dick about everything? Jesus Christ, this is why they call him Mr. Fucking Prick. Maybe he deserves it. Maybe I'm not actually mad, and he's just ridiculously mean.

I scratch my arm absentmindedly, settling down my glass before falling face first onto my bed. My mind runs over things to do, body working up into a red flashing anger. Who's it for? I don't even know.

It's just… unfair.

Everything's unfair. I thought it'd be livable--I thought I could be optimistic.

I push myself up, then kick down onto my mattress, hitting my fists against my pillows.

Rat bloody bastard wants to be a little dick and yell at me. Fine. Fine. I'll just avoid the shit out of him. Let him be fucking alone, for all I care. He seems to do that to himself anyway.

I manage to sit myself up, chest struggling to heave a full breath in and a full breath out. In the corner of my eye, I see myself in the mirror. Hunched, reddened. Sad. I'm so fucking sad.

Fucking hell. What am I doing?

#carry on #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #snowbaz #mine #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz pitch #simon #baz #proximity (the collision of lonely men)#p(tcolm)#chapter update

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nowitsdarkfic · 4 years

Text

chapter twenty-three (the manhattan affair)

December 26, 1988. Somewhere underneath the northern side of New York City.

I can't shake the image of the boy with no hands from my mind as we're rolling along the pitch dark railways underneath the City, from his lack of a face to the fact he had no hands which were cut clean off at the wrists.

Okay, I'm curious about him now, and also the fact that the subways are indeed haunted. I wonder what else lingers in the wires and cables of these black stone tunnels. If the boy with no hands is just one example, I can only imagine what other type of spirits are here. Could this be where Mrs. Snow hides out during the summer months? That would be understandable, given it's cool and dark down here where it's as hot as a rain forest back up north.

I hold onto the rung over the crown of my head; Lars is huddled right up next to me with the collar of his coat popped up towards his face. He has his left hand stuffed into his coat pocket and his right arm pressed up against his body as he's holding onto his cane: seems rather pointless given it's nice and warm in here from the heater vents overhead at the moment. It's just us here on this car: there's an elderly couple in the one in front of us and a couple of other people in the one behind us. Awful quiet here in the big city, especially given it's the day after Christmas.

“You know, there's a recording studio over in Rochester,” Lars breaks the silence right then.

“Oh, yeah, that's right! Music America!”

“I could probably get you some space there in the new year… we recorded Kill 'Em All there. In about two weeks, no less. I just now thought of that, too.”

“Okay. Maybe I'll ring them up once all is said and done here. What I want to know is—and I was thinking about this on the way over here, too—what're we gonna say to Candace?”

“What're we gonna say to Candace?” he echoes.

“Yeah, like—how are we gonna introduce ourselves to her? 'Cause the whole time I was thinking 'man… she's a writer. She's gonna want a proper intro otherwise we're just come across as a couple of goons off the street.'”

“Well, you are not wrong about that, Joey,” he assures me, “arguably speaking, we are a couple of goons off the street. I took a cab and your car broke down. We came off the street, but—you've read about Candace, haven't you? How Maya was going around looking for her and everything?”

“Yeah, she's Maya's foster sister, and she left home when she was sixteen, and ran off to Denmark.”

“Hang on, hang on—to Denmark?”

“Yeah, that's what the—” I stop myself. And then it dawns on me. “Ah, shit.”

“What's the matter?”

“I left the file folder in my car. It's under the seat, too.”

“Wait, what file folder?”

“After Angeline and I were at the Morlente's house in Boston, she gave me a file folder filled with everything that she and Dominique have found about Maya and also Candace. I took it with me when I went to my parents' house on Christmas Eve and I stuck it under my seat 'cause I—didn't wanna keep it in my coat forever.” I refrain myself from telling him about the copy of After the Watershed Maya had given me the night of the accident.

“Did you at least lock the car?” he asks me.

“Yes.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“Anyways, that's one of the things I read about Candace. Everything else that we heard about her was totally made up.”

“Huh. Wow. She was in Denmark.”

“Yep, Copenhagen. She was laying low there for the greater part of a decade and came back here to the States not even a year ago.”

“See, I got a phone call from Dominique telling me Angeline told her that Candace is here in New York City and then she gave me the address. I wanted to come here for my birthday today and I wondered if you were up for it, so I called your place just two days ago and didn't get a reply, and I only assumed that you had already left.”

“Nah, I was down in Camillus spending Christmas with my parents,” I point out. “You must've just missed me, too, 'cause I didn't hear my phone ring at all. Wait. Two days ago? When'd you call me then?”

“It was like—middle of the day, like lunchtime. You didn't hear the phone ring at all?”

“Not one time.”

He knits his eyebrows at me and the screech of the brakes catches my ear. We must be getting close to Grand Central. I let go of the rung over my head and flex my leather clad fingers.

Indeed, I see the first glimmers of golden light around a corner in the tunnel.

Within a matter of seconds, we're bathed in the rustic warmth and spindly high arches of the Grand Central Terminal. It's always exactly how I picture it, from the brass pipes jutting out of the walls and leading down to the furnaces underneath the hard slate floor, the cold metal over our heads, the frosty glass in the windows, the heavy dark oak wood in the railings, and the partially shiny silvery machines here and there down on the floor. Next to every single hinge is a set of gears like the ones we see on the fire escapes. Each of the platforms is made of clean brick and reinforced gilded poles. Everything either has a brassy sheen to it or has a great deal of gilding to it, even the big black and white clock perched over the ticket booth. As the train is grinding to a stop, I can see the snow outside of the station has picked up. Well, at least we don't have walk far.

The double doors open and Lars and I step out of the car into the cozy warm train station. I almost don't want to leave here and head out into the snow given it's so warm and comfy. But we're on a mission of sorts.

As we're walking across the floor to the big doors on the other side, I take a glimpse up at the high ceiling. I usually picture every inch of Grand Central being so clean that I could probably eat my grandma's lasagna off of the floor. It's the shiny, polished metal and brick and mortar corner of the otherwise rusted and stone raw City.

But I'm seeing a lot of… stringy kind of stuff hanging off the particularly high parts of the ceiling. It looks like cobwebs, but it's not, though. It almost reminds me of that little bit of lace I found on the lampshade in my living room that one time. After Maya cleaned my apartment, she missed that little piece of what resembled to lace. That's what this stuff looks like.

More of that lacy sort of stuff. Stuff that looks like a big bundle of cobwebs dangling down from the rafters.

Makes me wonder now…

“Joey, this way!”

I drop my gaze down to find Lars guiding me away from the the line into the ticket booth, which I was about to walk into. He leads me to the front doors, and I tug my scarf over my face once again. Lars covers his face with the collar of his coat as we proceed to walk down the snow covered sidewalk.

“So where does she live again?” he calls out to me over the noise in the street.

And I point up the sidewalk. I'm pretty sure this is the right way: I recognize neighborhood after hanging out here with Anthrax and of course from the Soundgarden show. And there's the bar that we went to, the one Maya works at and resembles to an ice cream parlor. I lead Lars to the building next door, an apartment building with a low, partially collapsed stairwell and a long string of gear powered fire escapes running up the walls. I push open the black wooden front door and we're in the warm front lobby with a pair of elevators on one side of the room. I pull the scarf down and give my head a shake as we head on to the doors closest to us.

“Let's see, she lives on the fourth floor,” I recall from the file folder. “Can't remember the number, though.” I reach out to push the upward button .

“Never been in an apartment building that doesn't have a door man before,” Lars mutters aloud.

“I know. It's… kind of unsettling, actually. How easy it was for us to get in.”

The doors open and we step inside the dim lit wooden elevator. The cables above the ceiling squeak at the feeling of our combined weight, and it makes me a little nervous. I lean against the narrow brass railing as Lars pushes the button for the fourth floor. The doors close and the rickety thing lifts up the shaft: I hear the gears grinding down below at the bottom of the shaft.

“Man, this thing has seen some better days,” he remarks at the stains and the rust on the railing behind me.

“Yeah, no shit! I pity the poor bastard who's over two hundred pounds who's gotta commute with this sort of thing on a regular basis.”

“I think the two of us combined are over two hundred pounds.”

“Yeah, I think we are. This thing sounds like it's struggling.” I swallow down at that thought.

But within time, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors grind open. Lars darts out first and then I follow him into the hallway with the ash gray walls and the pitch black carpet. There's nothing lighting this place save for a row of golden light bulbs surrounded by silver wires on the ceiling over our heads. The doors slide shut behind me and we glance either way down the corridor.

“This is it?” he wonders aloud.

“Yeah.”

“There are no doors, though.”

“There is one way the hell down there, though—” I point down the left side of the corridor and I lead him all the way down the hard black carpet, all the way to the very end, where there's a black door contrasting the ash gray. He ducks around me to reach the door first.

“You wanna knock or should I do it?” I ask him.

“I'll do it,” he offers me. He raises a hand and knocks three times on the panel right in front of his face. I linger right behind him with my hair still soaking wet from the snow. I give my head another shake when there's a soft click on the other side, and we're greeted by a short, kinda chubby young lady with reddish brown hair and wrapped in a black cardigan. She's got a round, full face, an upturned nose, and big eyes that look like they're about to leak tears at any given second.

“Yes?” she greets us in a gentle voice. “Can I help you guys?”

“Hello, Candace,” Lars replies. “My name is Lars, and this is Joey. Er, we wanna talk to you about your sister.”

She knits her eyebrows together at the sound of that.

“Maya? Did—something happen to her?”

“A number of things happened to her,” I explain.

“We,” Lars starts again, “have had some help of the New York Times and a young, aspiring journalist in Seattle in figuring things out because it's better if we do it and—not have to deal with the police.”

“Oh, that's—I totally get that.” She closes her sweater over her prominent chest. “Um, please, come on in! You guys want some coffee? You look cold.”

“Yes, please!” I take it up as we step inside her little studio apartment, the walls of which are painted a nice soft green. There's a little soft blue sofa right in front of us next to a small black bookshelf chock full of books and a tall bright red floor lamp that's lighting the whole front room here in soft yellow light. On the other side of the lamp is a door hanging ajar: figure that's her bedroom. I turn to find a row of hooks next to the door once I close it behind me. She's got all manner of knick knacks and things on her shelves, including a little bamboo plant in one corner of the room, right next to a heavy writing desk with a typewriter in the middle of it.

“Hang up your coats, take off your boots, and make yourselves at home here,” she encourages us as she walks into the kitchen right in front of us. I strip off my coat and take the hook closest to the door; I sling my scarf over the collar and, once I make sure it's not going to fall onto the floor, I take off my gloves and cram them into the left pocket. It's nice and warm in here so I unfasten the top two buttons of my shirt.

“So how'd you guys find Maya?” Candace starts us off as she takes a couple of mugs out of one of the cabinets.

“Well, actually it was me who found her,” I tell her, running my fingers through my wet curls. I set my hand down on the side table next to the desk, one with a black clay statue of a rooster standing on one foot.

“I ask because—” She stops at the sight of Lars as he's taking off his coat.

“I'm sorry, where have I seen you?” she wonders aloud at him.

“I'm Lars Ulrich from Metallica,” he states with hesitation.

“The song that closed Denmark,” I throw out there as the statue falls off the table. I drop down with it in order to catch it before it hits the floor.

“Be careful with that—I got that in Stockholm,” she warns me before turning around to pour the both of us mugs full of coffee. “Anyways, I ask because part of the reason why I came back to the States was I got word she was missing. By the way, how do you guys like your coffee?”

“I like a little cream,” Lars tells her as he hangs up his coat on the hook next to mine.

“Black, baby,” I join in as I set the statue back onto the table.

“I ask you about yourself, Lars, because you are absolutely everywhere in Copenhagen.” She opens the fridge for some cream for his cup of coffee. “So you just look familiar from my living there for so long.”

There's a clanking of a spoon and then she picks up the mugs and walks back into the front room with them.

“Come on, sit!” she orders us as she sets down the black mugs on the coffee table before the sofa. Lars and I take our seats there while she sits down at the chair before her desk. She turns to us and fixes her sweater again.

“So,” she starts, eyeing me and the pinky ring on my right hand as I'm reaching out for the mug, “how'd you find her?”

“I live out in a little town called Oswego.”

“Oswego… oh, I know where that is. That's—Rochester area, isn't it?”

“Rochester, Syracuse—it's right on the shore of Ontario.”

“Wow, she ended up way the hell up there?”

“Yeah, and the leads we've gotten so far have said she was trying to find you, like she was following a book tour or something or other.”

“Funny, 'cause—my last book tour was like two years ago and it was in the British Isles. Does—she know where I live?”

“As far as we know, no,” Lars answers, picking up his mug and taking a sip.

“She does work at the little bar next door, though,” I point out after leaning back in the comfy sofa.

“She works there?” She's genuinely shocked by that.

“Yeah. You didn't know that?”

“No. I only know about the time she ran away from home and we picked her up down in New Orleans, but that was it. She ran away because she—” She stops herself and bows her head.

“What's the matter?” I ask her.

“This part's always hard for me to stomach because the wound's still raw.”

I swallow down my first sip of rich black coffee before turning to him. Guess Maya running away really got to her.

“Well maybe—Lars and I can change your mind,” I tell her in a low voice. She knits her eyebrows together and eyes me with a bit of scorn.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“…no,” I reply to her. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, it's just you've got kind of a come hither look in your eye.”

“He always looks like that, though,” Lars points out.

“I really do.”

“Oh. Well. Then it's understandable—I mean, if you've got it, flaunt it. But you have what the Scandinavians refer to as 'kavorka'. You might not see it for yourself, Joey, but you are—very sensual. You've got this almost sexual vibe to you from the big earthy brown eyes to the disheveled curls to the fact that even though you are quite svelte in build, almost scrawny in fact, you've got a lot going on in your hips and your thighs. Not to mention, you are obviously bringing attention to your chest with the unfastened buttons on your shirt. You're—a very earthy man.”

“I am part Native American after all,” I explain.

“Well, it's just—Europe is so liberated and free that it's almost jarring to see it here in the States.”

“What do you mean?” Lars frowns at her, taking another sip of coffee. She fetches up a sigh.

“Those kind of vibes are almost pushed to the side and they have—” She pauses again. “—horrible effects.”

“Still don't understand,” I confess.

“I always knew why she ran away to New Orleans, but I could never tell my mom, though. It would break her spirit. It's because Maya and I—we were—”

“Yes?” Lars asks.

“It's okay,” I encourage her.

“—we were abused. To of great extent. I took the worst of it and… my guess is she didn't want to be around that. So, she ran off.”

I almost drop the mug of coffee at the sound of that.

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