#interaction ; gabriel & mat
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For the longest moment he just stares at the kid with something of a sunken look. He seemed to be thinking, a million thoughts going a million miles an hour. He just watched him, wondering what thoughts were blistering through his mind. He was a broken kid, laying on top of the bones of who he had once been. Wasn't that the case for all of these soldiers? It was true, he had witnessed it more times than he could count. However shedding light on it meant that there had to be something that would stand out to make it front page news.
And then he starts laughing and Gabriel can do little to nothing but roll his eyes. Of course he would go that route. Most people didn't want to speak out about their experiences but he had to press, had to dig in and had to unearth the insides of these soldiers. Maybe he would be called ruthless but that hardly mattered when he was doing it for the better of them. All of his work would eventually show that whatever the world wanted everyone to believe would eventual fall apart.
"Don't make a joke of this." He stated somewhat dryly as he leaned back in his seat, watching Mat somewhat closely. There's a heavy feeling that dawned over him and he tried to seek out some semblance of seriousness there in the boy's eyes. "Tell me more about it. Are there…" his voice lowered then as he leaned towards the bed that Mat was on. "…are there really experiments?"
@luckhissoul xxx
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It was over. For real this time, it was done. Pink hair, darker with matted blood, splayed out on the broken gravel. The white and blue that usually cloaked the mysterious Bunnyx was stripped away, Miraculous lost in the battle.
They had known. He had known. Shadow Moth.
He had known when she would pop out of her burrow, and surprised the normally all-knowing hero. Viperion had fallen long earlier, the only reason Bunnyx had even been forced to get involved.
They lost. It was all lost.
Dust clogged the air, stagnant without any wind to send it anywhere. Suspended, in the lacking gravity that came from the battle. It hadn’t been Chat Blanc, and yet the moon was still naught but shards in a darkened sky.
There was no going back. She couldn’t find any of the Miraculous that could turn back time. Her earrings were still in, but Tikki was silent. Silent and still, where the Kwamii lay in her palms.
Plagg was awake, but despondent. He hadn’t said a word since Adrien’s heart stopped, since the transformation was ripped away from him. She wasn’t sure if he would ever speak again, the way he was looking at Tikki’s fragile, limp form.
And, as she once again was left staring at her own glass eyes and mangled body below her, she wasn’t sure it mattered. Shadow Moth— Gabriel— was dead. But so was everyone else. So was she.
The League had tried— in a fit of desperation, she had called them in. Called them to their deaths alongside her and her team. Only one remained standing, only one life still burning amongst the wreckage.
“… I’m sorry,” he whispered in the stagnant air. He was not without his own injuries, beat and bleeding to within an inch of his life. An inch that nobody else had left, but one that would still fizzle out without a hospital to tend to him.
“Maybe it’s the hallucinations that come with my concussion, or my lack of blood, but… I feel you there,” he continued his soliloquy, staring up at the rubble that once was the moon. “If I could still move, I’d grab the earrings and the ring. Constantine mentioned them before we headed over.”
She tilted her head at him, ripping her gaze from her own corpse. From what she could tell, she was the only ghost here. May as well give him the respect of hearing his last words.
“And I’d wish for a do-over. Nothing perfect, I’ve been disillusioned about getting a happily ever after. But this world deserves better. Longer. You should have had help, we should have insisted on providing more assistance— even from afar. Guidance. Something. And now look where our negligence landed us.”
She would wish, too. If she could still interact with the world. If she wasn’t intangible.
“Bruce,” he rasped. “If you really are there,” he seemed to actually find her then, staring right into her eyes. “There’s nobody for you to tell anymore. But my name is Bruce Wayne. If… if either of us get another chance, find me.”
He faded.
She waited until he was gone, no ghost remaining of him like she did. At least he could have someone by his side at the end.
She sighed, wondering why she was cursed to this lonely end. The wish… even if she could, she couldn’t grab—
A pebble shifted, and she froze.
A moment passed. She stomped down.
The gravel crunched under her foot.
The gravel.
Crunched.
She had never moved so fast in her entire existence.
—*—*—*—*—*
He looked different without a half-burned cowl struggling to hide his chiseled jaw. She watched through the window as he tiredly swept his fingers through his hair.
“Who am I meeting with, again?” He asked his assistant, who didn’t even glance at her clipboard before replying.
“MDC, the French designer who reached out about a partnership,” she recited easily. “The same woman who has been standing outside the door waiting for you to invite her in, because her appointment started five minutes ago.”
His head whipped up, and she couldn’t help but wave at him through the glass. When their eyes met, he jolted as if struck by lightning. His pupils shrunk— whether in fear or memory, she could not tell. What she did know, though, was that he scattered papers across the floor in his rush to stand.
“Y—“ he cut himself off, swallowing thickly and making a show of adjusting his blazer. “Miss MDC? Please come in.”
“Please, call me Marinette,” she insisted, finally stepping around the window and through the open door. After his assistant left and the door was closed, they stood in silence. Marinette had planned— stewed, really— for months about how this meeting would go. She had worked so hard for it, but what if he didn’t believe her? What if…
“You got it,” he whispered, a soft smile stretching across his lips as his eyes overflowed with wonder directed at her. “You got us a do-over.”
That startled a strangled laugh from her. He remembered. What kind of awful curse made him remember when not even Tikki and Plagg did?
“Somehow,” she agreed. “We have a lot to talk about, Bruce Wayne. Maybe even over dinner?”
His responding chuckle was deep and unfairly charming. “Relationships formed from trauma hardly pan out well, but why not? Can’t turn out any worse than the apocalypse.”
—*—*—*—*—*
Oh wow, maybe ao3 crashing affected me more deeply than I thought. Do I have a problem? I might have a problem lol.
#ficlet#one shot#maribat#mlb x dc#ml x dc#dc x mlb#dc x miraculous#platonic jasonette#brucinette#Marinette x Bruce Wayne#aged up Marinette#ao3 crash#this is what happens when Ao3 doesn’t work#I get angsty
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Hi there! I saw your requests were open and the fact you listed Rorke and I literally exploded when I read that line! I love Rorke so much, I’ve had such an undying crush on all the men of the ghosts game since 2013 but Rorke has just always been my man 😫
Could I request some NSFW headcanons for him? I love your portrayal of Hesh and know you’d do him justice!
I know Rorke is not clearly mentally well after being tortured after the federation, so you can write him as crazy as you feel he is. There’s no limits to kinks!
Thank you my love, have a good day!!!!!
Gabriel Rorke NSFW headcanons
A/N: Buckle up, I have a lot of thoughts about Rorke.
Rorke is very different in every stage of the story and I think how he would interact intimately would be different depending on when you met him and what not. So I've written what I think he would be like as a lover if you met him prior to him disappearing and if you met him after.
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: First half is casual nsfw headcanons, second half gets pretty disturbing. Non con, violence, drugging stockholm syndrome. This is a serious warning.
Relationship with pre 2015 Rorke
He is a born leader and strives to complete his mission at hand. He holds a lot of masculine energy and I think that holds strong in the bedroom.
I imagine him with someone who is very soft, sweet and caring. Not necessarily innocent but kind enough to remind him why his job is so important. I think of Price’s “We get dirty, and the world stays clean”.
It’s not nsfw but if you weren’t in the ghosts, he definitely hides a photo of you somewhere on his body while he’s away. If he’s preparing for a high risk mission, he probably won’t but in most cases, he likes to keep you somewhere close to him.
He had a photo of you on his body on the mission to assassinate Diego Almagro. When he was losing hope in the rubble after his team left him, he swallowed the picture in case his body was found and ravaged. To him, your safety has alway trumped his own.
Rorke is very good at giving orders. Over the phone, he’ll guide you through your pleasure. All sweet and husky. He knows you miss him so he’ll take it easy on you and be as loving as can be. He’ll tell you to be as loud as you can through the phone so he can hear you and tell you he misses how you feel in his hands and around him.
If he’s with you however, you do as he says or else. If he tells you to get on all fours atop the bed, you say yes sir and do it. He tells you to be loud, you better fucking scream. He’s not a type to put up with bullshit and he’ll call you a little brat if he thinks you’re in a mood.
It also massively turns him on to see you dress up all fancy. Low backs, cleavage, tight pants, stilettos, lingerie, perfume. All of it does it for him. He loves to see your hair and makeup done so he can sit across from you at dinner and imagine how you’ll look later with your mascara dripping, lipstick smudged and hair matted begging for him.
He wouldn’t date anyone he didn’t think deserved his attention so you better believe you’ll get the whole princess treatment from him.
This man is a dom, true and through. Of course he’d love seeing you on top but I don't think he'd ever really enjoy giving up his dominance.
Only in moments of true vulnerability would he let you take the lead. After a particularly harrowing mission or if he has a nightmare where he loses you or one of his men, the only thing he really can do is sit in your arms. He would never let any of his men see him like this, but he knows you will take care of him, take his mind off things. Those moments are always tender and slow. Sometimes all it takes to calm him is to hear you giggle while cockwarming and just enjoying each other’s embraces. That’s as intimate as the man will let himself be.
If you did try to dominate him though, he'd find it adorable. If you pinned him against a countertop, climbed on top of him on a lounge, he’d entertain you for a little while. Sit back and enjoy as you lead a passionate rough kiss, grind your hips into him. Sometimes he’ll even indulge you for a while if you wanted to hold his hands above his head to restrain him. But the moment you let out a whimper, he’d have you over his shoulder in a matter of seconds on his way to the bedroom.
“Nice try, babygirl.” he’d chuckle out as you struggled against him. Placing a couple good taps to your ass before throwing you onto the bed.
He is very much a showoff in front of you. He tends to be really competitive if you're watching, for anything. From a game of darts, to drinking, to fighting.
If you’re at a bar and someone tries to flirt with you, you have two seconds to determine which response he'll give you. Either he’ll beat the person up or he’ll carry you right out of the bar no hesitation.
He’ll flex his muscles for you, he’ll pin you to the wall or floor or wherever he can just to show you he can. Sometimes he’ll ask if he can bench press you and then continue to tell you how you basically weigh nothing to him.
I don’t think he’s a particularly boastful person, I just think he tries to impress you and isn’t afraid to be proud in front of you.
I am a firm believer as well that this man is the epitome of “vacation sex”. He is under the most extreme kind of stress majority of the time and never has the time to get himself off let alone even think about it doing so. (On the very very very rare occasion he did need to get himself off while on a mission, he had your little photo in his hand chanting something sweet and sentimental under his breath like “I miss you, babygirl.”)
So the one time you had managed to get him on a holiday, tension free and away from work (mind you, you only managed to pull 3 days out of him) his libido shot through the roof. From the moment you woke up he had to have you to the moment you both passed out from exhaustion later that evening. Barely even left the hotel room.
I think his favourite positions would either be missionary with him on top or pushing your front up against a wall. If he’s on top of you particularly, I think he’d really enjoy holding hands. It’s his way of showing affection in the act. But when he’s got you up against the wall, he loves the feeling of your ass against him and how your moans are muffled when your face is squished into the wall
If you were a ghost or served alongside him. I strongly doubt he would be risky. He definitely wouldn’t engage on missions. To him he has his own and your honour to protect. Besides he’d much rather have you to himself for certain.
I do think he’s cocky enough though to show a little PDA. So after a successful mission, it won't be uncommon for him to storm through a room to find and kiss you. But this would likely only happen around ghosts or people he can trust.
Meeting Rorke - 2027
Now if you met Rorke in 2027 once he’s returned, it would likely be if you were a ghost. The things he’s been through has pretty much turned off an empathy switch within him so he’d probably see you as an object for both himself and his men. There's still that part in him that has to provide as a leader and damn if he won't provide for his men, then what.
He’d become enamoured with you while hunting the ghosts and want you to join the federation like he does Logan.
If you were a ghost and he did manage to capture you, he wouldn’t let the federation get their hands on you like they did him. He’d probably convince them that you were a more valuable asset as you are now. Let people have their way with you as a means of torture AND to get information out of you. A win, win.
He’d have you tied up all the time to either a chair or a mattress. He would absolutely love it if you were feisty and kept trying to escape for months on end. There’s something about dominating you that brings him so much more satisfaction when you still had drive in you. The lingering thought that he could still control the ghosts at his own will even after all this time.
If he was having nightmares like he used to, he’d visit you at whatever god awful time it was to distract himself. Doesn’t matter if you had finally coaxed yourself a sleep or if another soldier was already with you.
He would enjoy watching other federation soldiers have fun with you, even multiple at a time. Sometimes when this happened and you screamed, it would draw a crowd of soldiers and it didn’t even turn Rorke on. There was just something deep down that couldn’t look away.
The longer he keeps you and the more unhinged you get. He loves to mark you. He gave you hickeys and cuts. He'll slap you and throw you onto things to leave bruises. Anything, you name it. He enjoyed for a while putting aphrodisiacs in your food and watching you squirm and eventually beg for him.
By 3 years in, your brain has rotted. You did anything anyone asked and felt nothing anymore. Except more and more often Rorke’s visits became more predictable and less explicit. He has actually just started taking care of you.
He’s feeding you and cleaning you. For so long he has treated you like garbage until you ached every moment you were awake but now he actually tried to preserve you. He’d stop hitting you and would brush your teeth instead.
It made you begin to question if you just saw the whole situation wrong because you were angry, had he always been this kind to you and you just never noticed. Was it selfish that you never noticed he was the only one showing you kindness. It's clear the ghosts aren’t coming to get you and Rorke clearly was the only person to care about you.
Now that you were becoming more cooperative with him and even giving him consent to have you, he’d leave you untied when unsupervised more often. He’d kiss all the marks he created on you and slowly stopped other soldiers from visiting you.
In his own way - however just as horrifying - he managed to brainwash you like the federation did to him and eventually he built your strength back up to join him on the field.
He started holding you in his bed and told you to call him Gabriel instead of Rorke so everyone knew you were his.
With Elias dead, Logan in a pit and you in his lap, Rorke has never felt more powerful.
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ACK I almost stepped on Jesus on my way home from church! Good thing I missed! Actually if I were writing a movie about persecuted Christians where someone tries to make them trample the cross and stuff, I'd have them say "Sure man, I'll trample the cross, I'll shit on the Bible. You think my God is trapped in there? That I step on him like a bug and he dies? Let's try it and find out!" as per the great thing they discuss in STIGMATA. STIGMATA is the one where Patricia Arquette stars as a sexy raver chick who gets possessed and then sexy priest Gabriel Byrne has to solve a religious mystery with her that changes the world. It's the best movie and you should definitely watch it.
LOVE the tag line on poster #2. Anyway one of the priests who is a main reason I've been going to this great church for a year gave a homily this morning about a piece of scripture I'd heard before, but not in this way. Jesus encounters a cripple at a healing spring in Bethesda and asks him, "Do you want to be made well?", and instead of saying "OH MY GOD YES OF COURSE MAKE ME WELL IMMEDIATELY," the guy starts complaining evasively about how he can never get into the water because everyone else is faster than him. Jesus heals the guy anyway and says "Pick up your mat and walk," and then the guy instantly gets in trouble with the authorities for carrying his mat around on the sabbath, and by extension Jesus is in trouble for working on the sabbath. The Bible usually sounds pretty antique to put it mildly, and therefore kind of alien and artificial, but when I heard that story today suddenly it was like "Oh shit, people really act like this right now. All the time." Somebody asks you what you want and you don't know how to say "I WANT THIS EXACT THING AND I'M READY TO GET IT," you might not even know precisely what you want, or you're just so used to making excuses and being passive aggressive and protecting yourself from disappointment and trying not to be inappropriate that you have no ability to be direct or speak from a place of self-knowledge. And then on the part of the Pharisees, they're so concerned with the litigation of their religion that they can't even see the miraculous evidence of God appearing right before their eyes, they're too blinded by their obsession with technicalities and the pre-fabricated template for divinity to notice that what they would ultimately want is happening now. It doesn't appear in the way they expect it to, so they don't even see it. Modern people are exactly like this. You encounter all these behaviors on a daily basis if you interact with other people at all.
I love this priest and at least one other guy who is really surprising and inspired, enough that I've been going there for a year of my life. But I sometimes feel like I'm leading them on. I love gay people and abortions too much to formally convert, among other reasons. But I also realize that religion is about emotion. You're supposed to love God more even than you concern yourself with his factuality. For me religion is a bit too much of an intellectual exercise. I'm curious about the mechanics of belief, how it rewards people, what kinds of changes it manifests, what it is as a psychological phenomenon. And more abstractly I'm interested in how people seek encounters with the numinous, how they explore deeper meaning through the lens of symbol and allegory. I'm interested in the collective unconscious. Almost my whole life is more of an intellectual exercise than an emotional one, maybe I'm fundamentally not wired to be a religious person. But I do love this church and I love the people in it, and I think it's a net positive for us to get to know a kind of person/people who you don't normally encounter, and get the chance to be kind and curious toward them. Everyone is always welcoming to me even if it seems like they wouldn't like me personally and I find that moving, I embrace the chance to return the favor. I embrace them even though I know they will never watch STIGMATA with me.
#this guy also always stands up for the pharisees#they're just trying to do right by god and by their people#and he uses this rhetoric to remind parishioners not to be antisemitic#star of the sea
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About where the Adrien victim-blamers are coming from: the "salt" crowd believes with every fiber of their being that having crappy parents makes you an asshole; nobody could ever have crappy parents and be a kind person, because that's "unrealistic". Yet Adrien has the worst father in the entire show, but Adrien chooses to be a sweet person ANYWAY, just like millions of children all over the world in real life whose existence is ignored by "salters". So, they MUST make Adrien bad somehow.
That hasn't been the take I've generally seen? Admittedly I've managed to avoid most interactions with that group recently, but back in 2019 when it was unavoidable, the victim-blaming seemed to be part of a more general "he's a useless door mat" take that involved more ire towards Adrien for not being more forceful in trying to take Lila down, and ended up hitting his relationship with his father more as collateral damage. Since his approach to both his being abused by Gabriel and to Lila's lying were kind of similar (especially before "Ladybug" came out and we saw Adrien take a direct stand against Lila, albeit quietly), the group that thought him advising Marinette to let Lila be was an unforgivable sin for which he'd earned severe punishment and scorn, also applied a similar (though less severe) standard to his interactions with Gabriel, that he was being a doormat with Gabriel like he was with Lila, and that his passivity deserved to be punished.
#ask#ml fandom salt#leave adrien alone challenge#I loathe Adrien salt too but this doesn't match what I've actually seen
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Boulangérella: A Miraculous Fairy Tale AU - Chapter One
Table of Contents
Read on Ao3
Prologue
beta’d by @7wizardsshallanswerthecall, @mothmanhamlet, @ccboomer and @aubsenroute
Chapter One
The Flour Girl
Crown Prince Adrien Agreste stumbled backwards as the blade struck his chest. He hit the pommel horse and grunted as it knocked the wind out of him. With a deep breath, he lifted his helmet in surrender.
“I can only take so much of a beating from you, Félix,” Adrien laughed. He ran his fingers through his hair to restore its natural bounce after hours of being buried beneath his practice helm.
On the other side of the mat, Félix sheathed the dull practice sword and also removed his helmet. He shrugged off his cousin’s compliment and began to divest his practice gear.
The princes were not twins, though many presumed so when meeting them for the first time. They shared the same shimmering blonde hair, were of identically fit builds, and had hit their growth spurt at the same time after their sixteenth birthdays—which coincidentally fell on the same day. It was hard for anyone, even their parents to tell them apart, but those who knew them well learned that Adrien’s smile came easier, and Félix's steely gray eyes were often a few degrees colder than Adrien’s gentle green ones.
Though Adrien and Félix were not twins, their mothers had been twins, which was why the two boys looked so very alike. Neither of them took after their fathers.
A sharp, efficient knock echoed in the gym, and the door opened for Nathalie Sancouer.
It may not have been appropriate for a woman of the palace staff to see Adrien and Félix as they were, divested of the padding that protected them during sword play with their chests covered only by thin chemise, but Nathalie Sancouer had permissions in the palace that most staff did not.
Nathalie had served in the palace since the princes were children, and nearly one year ago, when Queen Emilie had fallen asleep and Duchess Amelie had been too consumed with the loss of her husband to manage the palace in Emilie’s place, Nathalie had stepped into the role with ease. She met King Gabriel’s high standards and was unmoved even in the face of the heavy gloom that had descended over the palace with the loss of both Queen Emilie and her brother-in-law.
Nathalie wore her dark hair in a tight bun, and she carried at least three scrolls under her arms. She was dressed in a red and white gown, as most of the palace staff were, along with the dark ribbons indicating their lengthy mourning for Queen Emilie. She also had golden thread embroidered along the edges of her dress and her bodice, even though such decoration was traditionally reserved for the royal family.
She held out a folded parchment sealed in bright red wax. “A message for His Royal Highness, Prince Adrien,” she announced.
Adrien hurried across the room to take the letter from Nathalie. She had not said it was urgent, but something about Nathalie’s efficiency made everything seem urgent.
“Thank you, Nathalie.”
She did not reciprocate his manners. Nathalie was a patient woman, but she did not waste time on platitudes. “Don’t forget, you’re both expected at dinner this evening.”
“With my father?” Adrien asked, hardly daring to hope.
“He has said that he’ll be there.” And with that, she was gone.
There were times that Adrien found Nathalie’s unflappable nature comforting; she was steady and dependable, and he appreciated that. There were other times, however, that Adrien found her cold and unsympathetic. She could be practical to the point of injury, and though he knew that she was only trying to protect him, it was easy to feel unheard—much like interacting with his father.
Adrien swallowed down the ache in his chest. Nathalie had a job to do—several jobs to do, in fact—and he could not linger on his hurt just because she and his father alike were not as sensitive as he wanted them to be, not as sensitive as he remembered his mother.
“Who’s writing to you?” Félix asked as he took a glass of water from one of the servants.
“It must be Chloé Bourgeois. We don’t really have any other friends.” Adrien, despite his heartache, laughed as if it were a funny joke, but Félix did not so much as smile.
Undeterred by his cousin’s solemnity, Adrien handed off his sword and examined the bright red wax stamp.
The Bourgeois family had two daughters, but one served across the Southern Sea as an ambassador, and Adrien and Félix had never even met her. Chloé was the eldest daughter, and in line to inherit her father’s lordship. She had been promised to Adrien since birth and had always been close with them as boys—well, as close as anyone ever got to the princes.
But the Bourgeois family’s crest was marked by the honeysuckle plant, and Adrien was fairly certain that the detailed swirls in this wax stamp were not petals of a flower but rather the scales and claws of a dragon.
“I don’t recognize this seal.”
Félix strode across the gymnasium to peer over his cousin’s shoulder. “It looks like it’s the Tsurugi crest. You remember them—from the Bright Islands of the East. They were at the twenty-five-year celebration of your father’s reign.”
Adrien scrunched up his nose as he tried to picture the Tsurugis. “Mother and daughter?” he asked Félix. “I hardly remember them. I’m not sure the daughter said a word the whole time she was here.”
Félix, who made a point of remembering all important contacts to the royal family and made it his business to keep up on all the gossip of not just their palace, but the palaces of other nations, said, “I’ve heard she’s incredibly, painfully awkward. The Tsurugis hardly ever leave their castle.”
Adrien laughed. “That doesn’t mean much. We don’t leave our castle either.” He broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out a letter written in impeccable penmanship. It was clear and easy to read. Adrien, who appreciated fine attention to detail, was impressed.
“What do the Tsurugis want?” Félix asked impatiently.
“Hold on, I’m still reading—” Adrien stopped, unsure that he had read the letter correctly. “Oh.” He reread it just to be sure. His stomach twisted uncomfortably and he found his mouth dry. Unable to give voice to the contents of the letter, he passed the note to Félix.
Félix raised his eyebrows. He, too, found the penmanship impressive, but the audacity moreso. “Kagami Tsurugi knows that you’re promised to Chloé, and she’s still sending you her intentions?”
“It doesn’t matter. Father’s too close to the Bourgeois to accept Kagami’s offer.” Adrien tried not to sound bitter and angry, but now that his twenty-first birthday was approaching, his impending marriage to Chloé was also becoming a much more pressing entity.
Félix folded the letter and returned it to Adrien. “A formalized relationship with the Bright Island of the East would be good for our kingdom. If anything, your father will suggest that I marry Kagami instead. Or perhaps he’ll offer me as an appeasement for Chloé, and he’ll accept the Tsurugis’ offer for your hand.”
Adrien grimaced. He was not fond of discussing his upcoming marriage, and certainly not in the irreverent and informal way that Félix did. He had never had any choice in his engagement, and if Adrien had his way, he would only marry for love. But whenever he mentioned this to his father, he was told that there was no reason he couldn’t fall in love with Chloé Bourgeois. Except there was a reason—a fairly large one. Adrien was already in love with someone else.
“Aunt Amelie has kept you out of an arranged marriage for years,” Adrien said. “I don’t think she’ll let you into one now just because my father thinks the Tsurugi family might be a better match for the kingdom.”
Félix shrugged. “There’s certainly a limit on how many favors your father will extend to my mother.” But if there was a limit, they had not seen it yet.
There had been countless offers for Félix’s hand. Chloé’s younger sister had been the first, a princess of the Northern Country of Ice had been the second, a lady of the Southern Coast had been the third, and the list went on and on. Amelie Graham de Vanily had turned down every offer for her son’s hand in marriage, even when King Gabriel had advised her to accept them.
But that small freedom had never made Félix feel any more free than Adrien. They were, both of them, confined to a strict schedule of physical training, tutorship, and preparation for royal leadership. They were never allowed out of the palace grounds, not even on the king’s annual hunting trips into the Forest of the Fay. They were as much prisoners as they were princes, and both chafed under that restraint.
One of the servants cleared his throat to get the princes’ attention.
“Your Highnesses,” he said in a low voice. He was a tall, broad-shouldered, imposing man, dressed in the black and red uniform of a guard. Though he had been a guard for the princes all their lives, they had never actually learned his name. Félix and Adrien—when they thought no one was listening—referred to him as “The Gorilla.” They didn’t know that the serving staff had also picked up on the nickname, so much so that there were actually very few staff left in the palace who remembered the man’s real name.
The Gorilla inclined his head slightly. “Excuse the interruption, but if you do not dress hastily, the king shall wonder why you are late for dinner.”
Adrien held still as a servant fastened the inky black closures that ran down his chest, while another laced the ebony silk ribbons on the sleeves. There was no color in the braiding across his breast nor in the chemise beneath his doublet. He and Félix alike dressed in pure black: Adrien in mourning for his mother who had fallen asleep and never woken up, and Félix for his father who had disappeared that same night and never returned.
The year anniversary was approaching, tragically timed to the princes’ shared birthday. Adrien was not sure how, in just one month’s time, he would be expected to doff his mourning attire, enter adulthood, and marry a girl of his father’s choosing. It was too much, and Adrien longed to slip away from the palace, even for a few hours, just to forget about the weight of what loomed ahead of him. His hand instinctively went to the silver band around his right ring finger and he twisted it anxiously.
Félix’s gaze followed Adrien’s fidgeting fingers.
The ring had appeared on Adrien’s finger the day after services had been held for Félix’s father. That entire week had been a whirlwind of grief for both boys. Félix had spent most of it consoling his mother, and was only distantly aware that Adrien had disappeared for a day and returned. When Félix had suggested to his uncle that perhaps his father might return just as Adrien had, King Gabriel had rather coldly told him that it was impossible, and had pressed forward with the memorial service.
It had been the morning after services, when Félix had finally recovered enough wits to actually look at his family again, that he had noticed the ring on Adrien’s finger.
His throat had been sore from nights crying and his voice uncharacteristically uneven, but he had managed to ask, “Where did you get that?”
And Adrien had nervously answered, “Er—it was my mother’s.”
But the ring on Adrien’s finger was not his mother’s. Adrien had actually found the ring that he wore now not long after his mother had fallen asleep. Or rather, it would be more appropriate to say that the ring had found him.
Adrien had never truly believed his father when Gabriel had told him that his mother had been ill and the illness had put her into a sleep so deep that she could not be woken. Adrien had read enough fairy stories to believe that his mother had been cursed, and if you wanted to break a curse, you went into the Forest of Fay for help. It was also an easy place to suffer a curse, but Adrien had been so desperate to help his mother that he had ignored the warnings of the stories and had only cared about the hope that they had offered.
But despite that hope, he had not found a cure for his mother, and instead had simply gotten lost. As the sun had begun to set and Adrien had begun to regret his reckless quest, a black cat had approached him. It had leapt from tree branch to tree branch and paused, looking back over its shoulder for Adrien to follow.
Adrien had thought it unnatural, the way it jumped and slipped between branches, almost like it could change its shape as it moved through the shadows. So when they finally reached the edge of the forest, and the castle loomed across the river, its walls high and imposing but a welcome sight after a day full of towering trees, Adrien had not been surprised to see the cat transform into a small, flying creature. It had retained cat-like features—the eyes, the ears, the tail—but its body was far too small for its head, and its paws folded more like a rabbit’s than a cat’s.
“Are you one of the fay?” Adrien had asked.
It had grinned wickedly, revealing two pointed fangs, and its large, green cat-like eyes had glittered in the setting sun.
Though Adrien’s heart pounded in his chest, he had asked, “Why did you help me?”
The creature had tilted its head. “Did you want to go back?” it had asked in a high, but rough voice.
Adrien had hesitated. Did he really want to go back into the palace? Did he want to spend another night at his mother’s bedside, praying for her to wake? Did he want to eat another cold, silent meal with his father? Did he want to listen to his cousin’s screams in the room next to his as he was plagued with nightmares about his father?
“Not really,” Adrien had answered.
“Then I suppose I haven’t helped you yet.”
“But where else am I supposed to go?”
“What is it that you really want?”
Adrien had bitten his lip so hard that he had drawn blood, but it was minor compared to the scratches and bruises he had suffered in his fruitless trek through the forest. “I want you to break the curse that put my mother to sleep.”
The creature had wrinkled its tiny, cat-like nose. “I can’t really undo curses. I’m better at making them. Do you have anyone that you want cursed?”
Adrien had always felt like everyone he knew was cursed in some way; he wouldn’t wish more suffering on any of them. If his mother was truly cursed, and even this creature couldn’t find a way to save her, it was hard to imagine there was much hope for him. “I guess we aren’t well-matched, then,” Adrien had said.
But despite Adrien’s claim, the creature had placed a cold, silver ring in Adrien’s palm. Five tiny, glittering emeralds were set into the band in the shape of a cat’s paw. “When you’re ready to escape, put on the ring, and I’ll find you.”
Adrien had vowed never to put the ring on, afraid of what could happen if he made a deal with such a dark creature, but he also knew it was rude to refuse a gift. The fay were sticklers for manners, so he had thanked the creature, and returned to the palace.
Of course his father had been furious, angry that Adrien had gone and angrier still that he had returned as battered as he was. Adrien’s guard was doubled, and he was forbidden from his mother’s bedside and even from leaving his rooms. It had only taken three days of confinement for Adrien to break his private vow. After a brief trip from his bedroom to his uncle’s memorial service, then right back up to his rooms, he had slid the ring onto his right ring finger and wished for some sort of freedom.
The creature had reappeared as promised and granted his wish for the small price of some cheese.
Félix had never truly believed that the ring on Adrien’s finger had belonged to Emilie Agreste, but he hadn’t had the wherewithal to press Adrien at the time. He only knew enough to think that it could not be one of the Graham de Vanily rings, as those had been gifts from Emilie and Amelie to their husbands on their respective wedding days. He also knew that it could not be the ring that signified her holdings as the Duchess Graham de Vanily, since she had passed her titles to her sister when she had married a prince. Possibly it was the wedding band that Gabriel had gifted Emilie on her wedding day, but it seemed a bit plainer than Félix remembered her wedding band, and would have been an odd piece of sentiment for Adrien to wear. Then again, Félix had never been quite as sentimental as his cousin, at least not where anyone could bear witness.
A pair of servants opened the door to the dining hall for Félix and Adrien. The princes bowed to King Gabriel, seated at the head of the table, and waited until he gave them his permission to sit. Adrien did not mind the waiting and the formalities if it meant getting a dinner with his father, who often had meals sent to his offices instead.
Duchess Amelie Graham de Vanily, Félix’s mother, sat at Gabriel’s left hand. Adrien sat at Gabriel’s right, and Félix sat by his mother. The lengthy and empty dining room table stretched far beyond them. But if the royal family took their meals together, they took them here, as if all dinners were a formal banquet that every guest had declined to attend.
“It’s too much, Gabriel,” Amelie said, reinstigating an oft-held argument as Félix took his seat beside her. “There are only four of us here, and the kitchens are much warmer this time of year. What does it matter if we give the grand dining hall and all these manners a break for one evening?”
King Gabriel, dressed in a clean, stiff black jerkin glared at Amelie with cold blue eyes. “Formality matters. We must perform to our station, including using our proper titles, Your Grace.”
Amelie sniffed, but did not complain any further. She had made her point, and the king had made his. Instead, she turned to Félix and asked how his practice with Adrien had gone.
“It went well, Mother. Thank you for asking.”
In the absence of any elaboration from Félix, Adrien excitedly recounted how Félix had beaten him in a duel, and praised how much Félix’s skill in swordsmanship had grown in the past year.
“You’ll have to do better to keep up, then, Adrien,” Gabriel said coldly.
Adrien felt his excitement and joy for his cousin’s success deflate. “Er, yes, Father. Of course.” He swallowed hard and joylessly pushed the cold vegetables around his plate. Adrien could no longer remember a time when he had ever satisfied his father’s expectations.
It was hard to say, though, if his father had always been this way. Gabriel had always been strict, of course. He was the king, and he had to ensure that his heir was safe and prepared to take over the kingdom. But he had grown colder since Emilie had fallen asleep, and some days Adrien felt like he hardly knew his father anymore.
All desire to inquire about his father’s thoughts on the Tsurugi family’s proposal left him. Gabriel would not want to hear what Adrien thought of the proposal, and Adrien would simply do whatever his father asked.
Félix, however, had not yet learned such resignation. He readily asked, “Your Majesty, what do you think of the Tsurugis’ offer? Have you decided how you will respond?”
It was not correct to say that Gabriel sneered at Félix, but something in his glare was sharper as he turned to Félix.
“So Princess Tsurugi’s letter reached Adrien, did it?”
“Yes, Father,” Adrien said softly. “I received it a little over an hour ago.”
“Empress Tomoe Tsurugi wrote to me just last week and mentioned that her daughter would be sending a formal declaration of intent. It would certainly be a good match for the kingdom,” Gabriel said.
Amelie took a sip of her wine. “It will also deeply offend André Bourgeois.”
“I’m sure he would be appeased by an arrangement between Chloé and Félix.”
It was as Félix had predicted. And Adrien had correctly predicted Amelie’s response:
“Absolutely not,” Amelie said. “I have told you time and again, Félix is not your pawn, he’s my son. He’ll choose who he is to marry when he’s ready, and whether it’s a stablehand, a noble, or a foreign royal it will be his choice.”
“You are too naïve,” Gabriel said. “You and Félix both have a duty to this kingdom.”
“If you want an alliance with the Tsurugis so badly, marry the princess yourself,” Amelie sniffed. “Or her mother—she’s widowed, too, isn’t she?”
Gabriel’s left hand tightened into a fist, and the silver wedding band glinted in the flickering light of the chandelier above them. The ring was, at first glance, a plain silver band, but on closer inspection it was embedded with intertwining white-gold vines. Its twin had disappeared with Félix’s father.
“As princes to our kingdom,” Gabriel said in a cold voice, “the two of you have a duty to carry on your family names, to raise leaders to follow in your footsteps, and to keep peace and stability within the kingdom. That means making wise decisions about who will be your partner.”
“But you’re not letting them make any decisions,” Amelie protested. “Let alone a wise or foolish one. You’re simply telling them what to do. They’ll be twenty-one in just over a month. Allow them to choose what they want for once. You know Emilie would agree with me.”
A cold silence filled the dining hall as Amelie and Gabriel stared each other down. It was an inappropriate blow, but Amelie was not wrong. Adrien kept his eyes on his plate, unable to face the fury that must be in his father’s eyes. Félix, however, waited with a measure of anticipation for Gabriel’s outburst.
But Gabriel’s anger and grief were alike cut short by the announcement of dessert.
“And what are we having this evening?” Gabriel asked in a tone of voice that sounded more like he was inquiring about a bad smell rather than a pleasant treat.
“The Duchess has ordered a strawberry-filled marzipan roll from a local boulangerie and patisserie for your enjoyment, Your Majesty,” the servant said with a deep bow.
“Very well,” Gabriel said, almost begrudgingly.
The girl who entered bearing four plates—two on each arm—was not dressed in the livery of the palace. She wore a pink apron, stitched with a gold “T & S” in a loopy, overlapping script and framed by a pair of gilded laurels. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face into two short tails and her smile looked nervous as she approached the dining table.
Adrien was just beginning to wonder what she was so nervous about when she tripped and the plates of dessert crashed to the floor.
Gabriel got to his feet in indignation and Félix stood, too, knowing that it was improper to remain seated while the king stood. Amelie stubbornly stayed seated, but Adrien rushed to help the girl stand.
“Are you all right?”
“Oh,” she squeaked, her soft blue eyes wide with terror. “Your Fineness—I mean, Your Highness, yes, I’m fine—I’m all right.” She scrambled to her feet and dusted some of the flour off of her apron, but she did not notice the streak across her cheek or the strawberry jam that had gotten into her hair. “I brought more,” she said, “just in case! One moment.” She curtsied hastily and hurried out of the room.
“She’s charming,” Amelie said with a smile.
Félix sniffed, unimpressed.
As the castle staff cleared away the debris of the girl’s tumble, she returned, this time bearing only one plate, and she set it down in front of Gabriel with a low curtsy.
“Does it please Your Majesty?” she asked, voice still high and nervous.
Gabriel surveyed the thick almond pastry rolled around a syrupy strawberry filling. “It will do,” he said coldly.
Gabriel took his seat once more and Félix sat back down. Adrien hesitated. “Will you need any help, mademoiselle?” he asked.
The girl’s face turned scarlet. “No-thank-you-I’ll-have-the-rest-out-immediately,” she said in a single breath, and hurried back into the kitchen.
Adrien reluctantly took his seat and did not meet his father’s icy gaze.
“What are you thinking,” Gabriel started in a low voice, “asking a girl like that if she needs your assistance.”
“I was just being polite, Father,” he said meekly. “You taught me to be polite.”
“Acting with decorum and lowering yourself to help a servant are two vastly different things.”
“She clearly doesn’t work here. She’s just a girl, and I wanted to be kind.”
“I think,” Amelie said as the baker-girl returned with a new plate—the girl had decided to take them one at a time to avoid another incident like the first—“that this is a perfect time to hold a ball.”
Gabriel blinked at Amelie and the abrupt change in conversation. “Excuse me?”
“Think about it,” Amelie continued, then paused to thank the girl as she set the dessert in front of her. “Emilie hosted balls all the time. We haven’t had a party since she… since she fell asleep. In one month, the princes turn twenty-one and the formal mourning period for Emilie and Michel ends. It's a perfect opportunity.”
“It sounds frivolous and foolish.”
The young girl returned with a third plate and nervously approached Adrien.
“You, baker girl,” Amelie said.
The young girl squeaked and the plate flew out of her hands, propelled by nothing except the girl’s sudden panic.
Adrien hastily caught it before it could hit the ground.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m so sorry—”
“It’s all right. No harm done, see?” Adrien held up the undamaged plate and set the dessert down on the table. “Thank you, mademoiselle.”
“Before you run off,” Amelie called, because the girl certainly did look like she was going to sprint back into the kitchen, “tell me, can you remember the last time the palace hosted a ball?”
The girl blinked. “Er—perhaps a year or more, Your Grace.”
“Do you remember if the people enjoyed the ball?”
“Oh, yes.” She nodded and her strawberry-sticky pigtails bounced as she did. “My family often prepared the desserts for Queen Emilie’s parties. And there was always work for the tailor’s guild which I am appre—er—I mean, everyone loves when there’s a large party. It’s fun, and it brings everyone good business, Your Grace,” and she quickly curtsied, though it was unnecessary. Adrien stifled a smile.
“You see?” Amelie said, turning to Gabriel. “It’s not frivolous; it’s important to the kingdom. And besides, I think it could solve another problem.”
Gabriel simply stared at Amelie, waiting for her to explain.
“Adrien’s marriage. Invite each eligible maiden in the city and allow Adrien to choose a bride. Perhaps he’ll fall in love with Kagami Tsurugi if he spends some time with her, or perhaps he’ll find an even more worthy woman. And if you write to the Bourgeois family and tell them you’re putting Adrien’s best interests first and letting Adrien decide for himself, they can hardly be upset with you. It still gives Chloé a fighting chance to marry him anyway, as the girl he knows best. They’ll be unhappy, but they’ll be hopeful. No one would be angry with you for acting in Adrien’s best interest.”
Gabriel’s frown deepened, but he considered her words. He took a small bite of the marzipan and chewed thoughtfully. It was hard to ignore the irony that even though Amelie said she was acting in Adrien’s best interests, she was only interested in protecting Félix. Still, he could see the possibilities unfolding before him.
“Very well,” he agreed. “We shall throw a ball in honor of the princes’ birthdays, and at the end of it, Adrien will be married. And I expect to see Félix engaged before it’s over.”
Félix pressed his lips together in a tight line, but Amelie clapped her hands together.
“You won’t regret this, Gabriel; I promise.” She turned to the girl in the pink apron, still standing uncomfortably in the dining hall, waiting to be dismissed. “Mademoiselle, let your bakery know I’ll be sending an order for dessert for three evenings—”
“Three evenings?” Gabriel spluttered.
“It’s their twenty-first birthday,” Amelie said, without even turning to look at Gabriel. “Will you be able to fill orders that large on such short notice? It’ll be one month from now.”
The bakery girl’s eyes were wide. Flour fell from her lashes as she blinked in surprise. “Y-yes, Your Grace.” She curtsied again. “We can manage a few hundred—er—what did you want?”
Amelie waved her hand. “Surprise us. We’re always happy with your family’s work. I’ll approve the menu tomorrow. And whatever number you’re thinking, double it. It’s not every day that my son turns twenty-one.”
“Oh—of course, Your Grace.” The young girl curtsied for the seventh time that evening and Adrien looked down at his plate to hide his laughter.
“Mother,” Félix protested.
“Oh, yes,” Amelie said, “please bring Félix his dessert before you return home.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Félix protested, but the girl was already hurrying back to the kitchen.
Gabriel stared at the large pink bow on the back of the girl’s apron as she hurried back to the kitchen to fetch the fourth plate of dessert. His instinct had been to banish her from the palace when she had dropped the first set of plates, but now he was glad that he had refrained. He did like the dessert. It was not too sweet, as he had feared. Gabriel was not particularly fond of sweet. And at least the girl had been prepared to make a mistake, which, while not a sign of perfection, was still better than failure.
While Gabriel had his reservations about opening the palace up to the people and the dangers that could bring, he had to admit that overall the idea of a ball had potential. Gabriel could make sure that Adrien and Félix were arranged into proper marriages that benefited the kingdom, regardless of who they met over the ball’s three nights. Gabriel’s authority was absolute, and the princes would heed it.
But that aside, the ball had potential for him in another way, a way Amelie could not know about. A ball where the heart of the prince and the crown of his kingdom hung in the balance would be ripe for heartbreak, and Gabriel could always use heartbreak to his advantage
#miraculous ladybug fic#miraculous ladybug#adrinette#felix fathom#ml fic#ml fairy tale au#fairy tale au
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Cursed Soul Bond
Jasonette July prompt 11: enemy mine
July masterlist
All fic masterlist
Marinette screamed in pain as Chat Noir turned her earrings over to Hawkmoth, promising her that everything would be okay. She could do nothing but freeze in agony as he removed his own ring and handed it over as well. Now before her, was her soulmate, Adrien Agreste. He had clearly figured out who she was without her ever knowing. She turned and watched his father, now revealed as Hawkmoth. Gabriel Agreste had taken off his broach in preparation for making the wish. He didn’t want to risk the other miraculous when he made his wish. It had to be the mix of the creation and the destruction to grant him his desire.
Marinette struggled and dropped fighting the grasp of her soulmate. She didn’t know how they could have worked together for so long and she never knew that her partner was her soulmate. But she couldn’t think of that now. She had to stop the man before he caused irreparable harm. A miraculous wish could not be undone. Nor could the effects. There would always be a price to pay. Adrien grabbed her again but he wouldn’t listen to what she was trying to tell him about what would happen. He was talking about his mother and how happy they would all be. He thought he had all the information so her warnings were all ignored.
Gabriel wasted no time waiting to see how the young couple handled the reveal or the betrayal. He donned the ring and the earrings and spoke the words. Time froze for a brief interlude as he made his wish. Marinette was aware that everything froze but she was unable to do anything else but know, trapped in her mind, as Gabriel controlled the ultimate power and was bestowed with one wish with no concern for the consequences.
When she returned, her soul mark burned on her arm. A searing pain that felt like it was ripping her away. Adrien looked stunned, watching as it flashed bright. His own brightened at the same time but he appeared to feel nothing. When the light faded, his mark did as well, leaving a patch of skin that looked untouched, no longer bearing any mark. He watched his former soulmate still in agony as the light went from shining to dark black. It was not reflective, it seemed to suck in all light.
Marinette dropped to the floor in failure. They had lost. She had lost. She had been betrayed by her soulmate and she had felt the bond tear away from her. It seemed to pull from every part of her body at once and left her weak. Adrien watched in shock, holding her until the agony ended. He seemed to feel nothing as his mark simply faded away. She could feel his arms lift her off the cold floor. She tried to pull away but her muscles didn’t cooperate. Everything felt so strange. Even being carried in his arms to the nearest fancy couch in the Agreste mansion felt numb.
He pushed her hair back from her face, it was matted to her sweaty skin. She was aware of shuffling nearby and was cognizant of Nathalie approaching with a cold cloth. She looked so worried as Adrien applied the cool cloth to her head. His hands felt so hot, like she was burning again. She shifted away from him. Her breath started coming in rapidly and she struggled to get away. She was so weak.
Adrien had backed away from her. He didn’t know how to react to her struggling against him and the sudden signs of sickness. Every few minutes he would place a straw near her mouth. The only feeling that helped at all was the cool water in her mouth and down her throat. She could not hear and could not speak. Her ears were filled with buzzing. She had no concept of time but suspected it had been an hour or so before her very worried parents showed up. As her dad carried her to a car driven by the Agrestes’ bodyguard, Adrien's hand held hers one last time as he passed her the peacock and butterfly miraculi as well as the jewelry that formerly held the powers for the kwamis of creation and destruction. They were now just symbols of her failure.
No one else seemed to know or remember about the threat of Hawkmoth. Gabriel had changed Paris and the world. Adrien said it was for the best. Now he had his mother and they still had each other. Marinette disagreed even though he begged and pleaded with her to reconsider. She would not even let him take her hand. She never wanted to see him again. Plagg and Tikki were the only ones she wanted to be with. Plagg felt responsible, and Marinette partially agreed with his assessment. He knew Adrien had a tendency to jump in with no consideration for the consequences and he had done nothing to temper that trait. Adrien didn’t know there would be a cost to the use of the wish because Plagg hadn’t mentioned it him when he already had so many other burdens in his life. That is why he didn’t feel the soul bond destroyed as she had. He didn’t know what he was doing was a betrayal even as it destroyed Marinette.
---
Nearly ten years had passed since Marinette had her soul bond destroyed. She had finished out her remaining school years in a small private school. She couldn’t connect with the others in her class anymore. She had been through too many things that they had no memory of. It was even a struggle to connect to her parents but they were loving and supportive even if they didn’t understand her sudden change. She suspected they thought Adrien or his father had done something to her. She couldn’t explain what had happened. So they harbored an anger towards the Agrestes thinking that there was some deeply personal incident but Marinette couldn’t explain that it was all of Paris and maybe the world who had been wronged.
The change of school helped her escape Adrien’s insistence that they could still be in love. For him it was as if the soul bond had never existed. He was still in love with her but she felt sick even remembering him. She could not stand to be near him. It took a long time for her to realize the twinge she would get in her dark soul mark was because when the bond had severed from Adrien it had attached to another soul. From what Plagg and Tikki could tell her it was a soul touched with dark magic. Cursed magic that only became possible as a consequence of the wish that now bound her soul to another.
She knew that it was her responsibility as a guardian and the only one who knew of the connection to fix this cursed bond. She would have to in order to finish binding Tikki and Plagg to new miraculous jewelry. They would fade otherwise and time was running out. It took her time to figure out where the other side of the bond was tethered. She wasn’t sure if that was because the other soul was moving or because she was still unskilled in this version of magic. Miraculous magic was natural for her but other forms of magic took a lot of training and drained her quickly.
She knew when she stepped off the plane that she had found the right place. She could feel the bond activate. Rather than absorbing all light, the outline of her mark reflected a bit of red back to her. Tikki’s color. She took that to mean she was in the right place. She only had the carry on with her and rolled it along behind her. She had some clothes and the miracle box. She needed nothing else. She would never return to Paris.
---
Jason rarely felt the pits anymore. Occasionally he would get the rage but it didn’t feel like he was doing anything different. It was almost as if for a brief moment something else was controlling what was happening. His wrist was often covered by a sleeve or glove but one night as the feeling of the pits drained back out of him he noticed a reflective bit on his wrist. It wasn’t just the UV mark from the club but it reflected the UV light flashing around just the same. He had a soulmark when he died as a teen, but it had disappeared. He assumed because he died. Now he wondered if the Lazarus Pit could change a soul mark.
He didn’t really have anyone he could ask about it so he started quietly looking for more information about soul marks. The basics of how to identify your soul mark and find your soulmate was readily available, but it did not interest him. Most people were able to find out that on their own. The information he needed was far more obscure and might not even exist. Chances are that his soul mate had felt his original death and had moved on with their life. It was hard for many at first but not impossible.
---
Marinette wasn’t very concerned with what job she had but she did have to find a job. Her interest in fashion had not gone but she had no interest in pursuing it as a career because she didn’t want the inevitable interaction with Gabriel brand. She severed every connection to that family and had no interest in interacting with anyone from her former life, even her parents as much as she loved them. She could not get past the memories of betrayal and her failure. She didn’t have to move forward, but she couldn’t look back.
She ended up running a used book shop that had a large number of very old looking texts that were almost never looked at. People came and went buying and selling their textbooks, classics and current best sellers. Marinette always had an eager smile to help them, but once they had gone she would be back perusing the books that seemed to call to her.
They were not listed in the computer at all. She had even tried to look some of them up and found no information on them, but they were exactly the kind of information she was looking for. Not all of them were useful to her but all were full of various sorts of magic she was previously unfamiliar with. It seemed that it was possible soul bonds were originally created or discovered by mixing different forms of magic. The book that mentioned it did not specify but she suspected that miraculous magic would have been involved based on her knowledge and what had happened with her own bond.
She started keeping careful records of all she had read and labeling the books so they could be found again rather than the haphazard pile the owner of the shop kept them in. He was rarely there and did very little to check up on her. She had originally gone to him about an ad for a place to live. He was a little surprised. He said the sign had been there quite a while and that no one even seemed to notice. He then asked if she needed a job and offered the position at the shop to her. She tried to remember if she had even given her name at this point. She was fairly certain she had not and that he had accepted her living in and running his shop knowing nothing about her.
---
Jason was getting a little frustrated in his search. He never seemed to have the time to do much and he couldn’t really delegate this task. Being a crime lord had its perks but down time was not one of them if he really intended to keep Gotham safe. There was a line of shops that his militia couldn’t seem to enter to recommend their services for protection. Every time they reported their income they seemed to even forget the buildings existed. One claimed that he had been there to the shop, but when he entered the door moved and he was no longer inside.
The rest of the crew was far more amused by the tale than Jason was. He sent them all out and decided he would have to pay the shops a visit himself. The first one was a small second hand shop. They didn’t seem to have much of value and little business. Jason learned that they did what sales they could but mostly the money went right back out. They gave away most of the clothes and served food in the evenings. They didn’t get much foot traffic so it was mostly internet sales from the donations.
He didn’t want to ask for protection money. He felt at peace when he entered. Except for a tug. He flipped the book of figures closed and walked over to the jewelry case. There were hair clips with blood red rubies inside that he felt drawn to. He had the old woman show it to him. He flipped it over and then lifted it to the light. He didn’t even think it was particularly valuable. The woman confirmed. She said that it was very lovely but she couldn’t sell it.
“You seem like such a nice young man. Why don’t you just take that one with you. Maybe you’ll find yourself a nice young lady to give it to.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Jason could feel the soul mark warm on his skin at her words. She didn’t seem to notice his distraction. She walked away from the counter and towards the back of the store with her ledger. She didn’t return. When Jason walked out of the shop, he remembered his purpose in going. He turned to go back inside, but the door was no longer where he had exited.
---
Marinette was tired after work today. She hadn’t even had much of a chance to organize the old books today. She needed to get out of the shop. She rarely ventured away except to replenish groceries. She lived and worked in the shop and spent all her free time reading and cataloging the volumes of magic. She followed her gut and went out into the town. She wandered around for several hours, drew in a park appreciating the fresh air and checked out a few shops. She was almost home when she was drawn to a shop a couple doors down from where she lived and worked. She knew there were shops along the same building she worked in but she had never paid much attention to them. She entered the shop to find a second hand store.
She walked through the shop, trying to recreate the feeling that drew her in. Nothing really popped out at her. She glanced through the racks but there was nothing that really interested her. She tended to make most of her own clothing, occasionally getting fresh ideas or a few signature pieces to give her original designs a pop. Nothing here really even inspired her. She turned to wave at the older lady carefully cleaning the counter before she left through the door she entered but she paused.
There was an ankle bangle that drew her attention. It was a simple design, black with a small emerald cat attached. Usually she avoided black and green as reminders of her past betrayal but she felt a light pressure in her soul mark. It flashed in her eyes for just a second before fading to barely visible. The lady at the counter had not spoken but Marinette startled when she handed her a small package. She hadn’t realized she had lost herself in thought. The ankle bangle was missing so she assumed it was in the box.
“For you Dear, it isn’t doing anyone any good in here.”
The lady walked off with her cleaning rag and did not return. Marinette exited the shop but when she turned back to look at the building the door was no longer visible where it had been.
---
Jason was still frustrated with himself for how his visit in the shop had been. He actually was not interested in demanding payment from the shop. He had a soft spot for the places that fed those who needed it. He had used them a lot when he was very young and food was scarce. He even funneled money towards a few that were more reputable and not connected to Wayne Enterprises. He hid his involvement but it was essential to keep people fed to help with the crime. Every bit he controlled made all of Gotham safer. He wanted the children to grow up with enough food and options so they did not need to resort to crime and drugs. He would consider himself a success if he was able to put himself out of business as a crime lord.
He looked down at the hair clips from the woman at the shop. He didn’t know what it was about the rubies gleaming up from them. He was drawn to them as if he were looking into the eyes of the most intoxicating person. He picked them up to look closer but still they seemed entirely ordinary aside from his unnatural fascination. He slipped them in his pocket and headed out the door. He chose to go as Jason to check out the other shops before making an appearance as Red Hood. When he got to the location he felt a tug towards one door. He headed there first before he had even realized he had made a decision.
---
Marinette heard the little tinkle of the bell on the door while she was just about literally buried in a pile of the magical books. She had been switching back and forth feeling like she was on the verge of understanding something big so of course someone was in to buy a copy or Eat Pray Love or Alan Watts just to pull her away from her possible discovery. She tried to holler that she was on the way at the same time as she extricated herself from the pile but it didn’t quite work. She tumbled over into the pile of musty, dusty books. She groaned. There was nothing magical about the number of bruises she felt developing on her side and back. She halfway pulled herself out as she heard firm boot steps headed her way. She looked up at the man towering over her. He looked only briefly before he reached down and hauled her up by her arm. He dropped it like it burned him and she pulled away from him and the tingling spot where his hand had touched her. They both felt it at the same time and they had a matching glow from the soul marks on their arms. The glow flashed bright for a moment connecting them with a beam of light and then it went into the skin leaving the mark silver and lightly reflective.
“So, I guess you are my soulmate? I’m Jason.” he said.
“I’m Marinette, and If that is what you call your warped necromancy binding to my severed soul bond to you, then that is exactly what I am.”
“You had a soulmate before? I thought mine would have been lost when I died?”
“My original soul mate betrayed me and caused a rift that detached the bond. Your dark magic attached the bond to you.”
He just stared at her for a moment.
“It is only a matter of time before I figure out how to work around your warped magic.”
“Hey, I did not do dark magic. I was murdered and brought back as a child. None of whatever you are pushing off on me is my doing. Maybe I could help you. I have been looking for answers since the mark reappeared.”
“If you say so.”
She turned and walked away. He took that as a dismissal and decided to leave and come back later. She didn’t seem very interested in him leaving any sort of contact information so he decided to head home and return later. He didn’t make it all the way. He pushed on the door and the little bell jingled but the door did not open. He checked the lock and it wasn’t locked so he tried pushing again.
It stayed sealed so he looked back to see what she was doing. Maybe she had magic she had figured out how to use against him. He noticed the glow from his pocket when he turned back. He pulled out the hair clips and looked down at them. The red gems were shining brightly against his hand. He looked back at her and she seemed to be having a similar issue with a bangle with a dangling emerald charm. It was glowing brightly like the hair clips.
Their eyes met and a dark mist fell over them inside the shop. Marinette knew what this was. She worked her way through the mist to find the books she needed and her miraculous grimoire. She motioned for him to sit and she placed the bangle on the table. She tried to connect with Tikki and Plagg in her mind. It had become increasingly difficult but she hoped the mist would guide her thoughts so she wouldn’t have to take the time to do the full ritual. The mist swirled around with the red and green auras appearing and then forming together in the air before settling over the table with the jewels. Marinette used the book she had to read out a few unfamiliar phrases after the mist settled.
Jason was confused but he felt warm and comfortable rather than uneasy so he followed her lead. He didn’t know what was happening but his soulmark was glowing and putting out a green beam of light that went across the table to twist with the red glow coming from Marinette’s soulmark. He couldn’t help himself when he reached out and picked up the bangle she had set on the table. He watched her move almost at the same moment to pick up the hair clips he had brought. The red and green in the air swirled together to make one small cloud of red and one of green as the black mist faded. The small clouds became an almost definite shape, like fairies. The black filled in around until they were creatures with eyes and mouths. The black went into each of them making them no longer solid colors but the red appeared similarly colored to a ladybug and the green appeared as a black cat with bright green eyes.
Marinette lifted the clips to the ladybug fairy and the creature pulled it inside itself. Her hand was empty. He did the same with the bangle with the cat fairy. He still had no idea what he was doing, but it all felt right. When the bangle connected with the cat fairy he felt it lift the bangle out of his hand as it pulled and it disappeared inside the form. The soul bond was tugging him. He followed the pull and ended up right in front of Marinette. Her eyes were full of hurt and concern but she allowed him to pull her to him. All at once exhaustion rolled over him. He dropped onto the cushioned armchair near him and Marinette sat right there with him.
Continued below
Taglist
@jasonette-july-event | @theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf | @vixen-uchiha | @trythisagainlove | @trippingovermyfeet | @tbehartoo | @adrestar | @zynna
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Haven’t met you yet
As always. I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.
A/N: This is a TRR AU. Liam is already married, but see’s Riley and wants his cake. If the readers are receptive this might turn into more than a mini series.
Disclaimers: Most characters are property of Pixelberry
Warnings: NS*FW (+18) don’t read this fic if you’re a minor; period.
Word Count: 1887
Prompts: @wackydrabbles prompt #88 “I meant every word.” will appear in BOLD
Pairings: Drake & Riley
Song inspiration: Haven’t met you yet -Michael Buble
Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.
A replay of the Royal wedding of King Liam and Queen Carsyn of Cordonia was playing in the background as she packed her clothes in the small carryon. She giggled when they kissed. Although it was rumored that the king was into black women, something seemed off when he kissed his bride. She had watched this wedding a half dozen times and still couldn’t really put her finger on it. She was headed to New York to stand up in the wedding of one of her sorority sisters. After landing her dream job in Dallas, Riley couldn’t wait to meet her sorors in New York to celebrate. After all, Norah was about to marry the man of her dreams and Riley was truly happy for them.
There was currently no man in Riley’s life and no prospects. Maybe she’d meet someone in Dallas or maybe she was destined for the life of a career woman. Maybe there would be no happily ever after for her. She turned out the lights in her new downtown Dallas apartment, and grabbed her carry on dragging it to the door as she headed to the airport.
She opened the door to see her latest amazon purchase on the door mat. She took a moment to retreat inside to open the box. She was hoping it was delivered before she had to head out. Her pink Bedroom Kandi toy was still packed away lost in the sea of boxes crammed into her guestroom. She knew that she would not survive this long weekend in NYC without some form of sexual entertainment. She was disappointed when she opened the box to find her new toy was smaller than the picture made it look. Her flight left in 2 hours and her uber was downstairs so she shoved the disappointing toy in the side of her bag and headed down.
After the uneventful three hour flight, she finally landed at JFK. Mack was supposed to pick her up from the airport. She stood to the side as people herded to baggage claim to send a quick text. A group of men came from the opposite direction. One was this tall, very attractive Asian guy who looked alot like King Liam. He was with a few other men but there was one in particular who caught her eye. He was beautiful, he had dark hair and the most beautiful blue-grey eyes. The guy who bore resemblance to King Liam smiled and winked at her, while his brooding friend who definitely glanced at her, kept moving. She was snatched from her day dream when Mack texted to say she was outside.
They checked into the Crown Plaza in Manhattan, freshened up and changed into their little black dresses before meeting the girls at a local rooftop lounge for appetizers and drinks before the bachelorette party.
The sounds of Dua Lipa’s “Don’t start now” played in the background and encouraged a slightly inebriated Lauren to shake her body on the empty dance floor. Still licking the wounds behind a very fresh break up she intended to use this weekend to drink her troubles away and vowed to nail a stranger.
The hostess seated a group of gentlemen at the table directly behind the ladies giving Riley, who never sat with her back to the door the best look at the group. It was them. The men from the airport. When they were settled, Riley’s eyes met with the Asian guy’s who was smiling and licking his lips. She rolled her eyes and turned to Kourtney.
“So, how is Gabrielle, is she two now?”
“Yes, she’s great. Busy, but great. That was real smooth. You have an admirer.”
“Ugh, I saw those guys in the airport when I landed. He smiled at me then too.”
“But now there are two of them looking at you like you’re a steak.”
Riley coyly glanced at the group again, this time noticing the dark haired man looking. She blushed and turned back to Kourtney right as the server approached with a whiskey sour, complete with a phone number written on the cocktail napkin.
“How did he know what you drink?”
“Girl, I have no idea. Should I drink this?”
“Sure, they wouldn’t have served it if it had been tampered with. But the real question is are you going to call him?”
“Me? Noooo. What would I say?”
“What do you have to lose?”
“Wait, you have never dated a white guy before have you?”
“Well, no. Not that they aren’t attractive. I just never had one interested. Not all of us find our Prince Harry.”
“You do now. Besides, Chris is no Prince Harry, but he does treat me like a queen. I have always wondered if there are people who would rather be alone than to date outside of their race. Chris is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I definitely would date outside of my race if it were the right person. He is gorgeous, I’m still not calling this guy. He’s going to think i’m desperate.”
“You are!”
“I am not!”
“When was the last time you got laid? Mack told me about your toy.”
“Remind me to kill her later. It’s been 8 months, 3 weeks and 5 days. But who’s counting?”
“Exactly,” Kourtney cackled, drawing the attention of the men at the next table.
Maroon 5’s, “Moves like Jagger” started to play as they continued to chat.
“May I have this dance?”
Riley was disappointed to find the King Liam look alike.
“Thanks, but my feet are killing me.”
“That’s too bad,” he said as he flashed her a sexy smile.
Just then she glanced across the rooftop to see him whisper something to his brooding friend. In an instant the guy with the beautiful eyes headed over and slipped the DJ a tip and whispered something in his ear before heading Riley’s way.
“Kourt, shit! He’s coming over here what do I say?”
“Don’t. Let him do the talking.”
He held out his hand and smiled at her and she was sure her panties were ruined.
“Hey, did I get your drink right?” he asked placing her hand in his.
“Actually, yeah you did. Impressive.”
Just then the DJ changed the song to Silk Sonic’s, “Leave the door open.”
The stranger pulled her to her feet.
“Let’s dance.”
His scent was intoxicating, his arms where strong and she could get lost in his eyes. He held her with a familiarity that made her feel at home in his arms.
“So are you going to tell me your name?”
“Drake. And you are?”
“Riley.”
“We don’t have to talk right now. Let’s just dance. Just use my number when you’re ready.”
“Their bodies swayed slowly to the song before her friends pulled her away to the next leg of their night.”
Two weeks later
After a very long weekend in New York, Riley was back in Dallas. She had been there for almost a month and hadn’t met anyone at all. Well, there was Will from work. But she doesn’t date co-workers and she is pretty sure he is gay. In her freetime she goes to the gym, and eats at new restaurants a few times a week, which leads her back to the gym. After a particularly long work day, circuit training and an hour on the treadmill Riley came home and poured herself a very large glass of wine. She filled the tub, lit some jar candles and grabbed her toy and the romance novel that she was currently reading.
She was soaking in bubbles up to her neck when her phone rang, it was Kourtney. Out of all her friends she probably checked on Riley the most. She dried her hands and pressed the speakerphone button.
Hey Kourt,
Hey Ri, what’s new?
Not a thing, work, the gym, dinner, wine repeat.
That’s sad. No human interaction?
Not really. I’ve hung out with Mack and Ben twice but I always feel like a third wheel.
Remember when I told you to call the guy from the rooftop?
Yeah.
I meant every word.
I will think about it. I gotta go. Early morning. Love you.
Whatever, I know when I hit a nerve. I love you too.
Three days later
Riley was as lonely in Dallas as they come. She thought about online dating but wanted something more organic. Kourtney’s words lingered in the back of her mind. Maybe she was right. Riley had nothing to lose by reaching out to the handsome stranger who sent her the drink in NYC. She decided to take the plunge.
The next morning Riley sat on her balcony reading the paper and sipping amaretto flavored coffee when her phone rang.
Hey Mack!
Hey, I am running into church and I know it’s short notice but Ben is out of town next weekend and my college roommate is getting married down in Waxahachie. Please tell me you don’t have plans and you’ll be my plus one.
I’ll have to check my planner. She laughed.
Who am I kidding? I don’t have plans. Free booze, food, and maybe a groomsmen to have a fling with. Count me in…
Yay! She squealed. I will pick you up Saturday morning and we can ride down to the ranch together.
Saturday
The doorbell rings and Riley grabs her clutch and the wedding card she got for the newlyweds before heading down to meet Mack. They catch up while they take the 30 minute drive out to the Walker Ranch where the ceremony is to be held. Mack talked about feeling like an after thought when it came to her boyfriend. Riley mentioned the need for human interaction, more specifically from a man and how the one man she met in New York lives in Europe. When they arrive Riley takes in the vast land and the beautiful event space.
“Savannah’s family owns this ranch? Wow, it’s massive.”
“Yeah, I know at one time they were really struggling to keep things afloat. But it definitely looks like they are doing well for themselves now.”
“Right? I love when family businesses do well. It’s really a gorgeous day for an outside wedding. But we should probably take our seats. The ceremony will be starting soon.”
Mack led Riley to a couple seats on the bride's side. Before long a very serious looking groom and an officiant that Riley could only describe as a King Liam look-a-like stood under a wedding trellis decorated with blush colored blooms. The violinist started to play a beautiful arrangement as the attendants began to descend the aisle.
“All rise and receive the bride.”
They guess all stood and turned to receive Savannah. She was a stunning bride. Then Riley laid eyes on those hypnotic blue-grey eyes. She instantly broke out into a sweat. She couldn’t ever mistake those eyes for someone else’s. He was as beautiful as the first tine she saw him. She swallowed hard and her mouth went dry. Her heart seemed to be pounding out of her chest, she was shaking when she gave Mack’s hand a firm squeeze.
“What’s wrong Ri?”
Before she could answer, his eyes met hers, he bit his lip and her knees buckled.
“Um Ri?”
“It’s Drake from the rooftop in New York..”
@txemrn @pixie88 @secretaryunpaid@khoicesbyk @blackkingliamstan @mom2000aggie @shannonwrote @hopelessromanticmonie @fanjessfic @rideordiechronicles @lucy-268 @dcbbw @darley1101 @maurine07 @burnsoslow @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @kingliam2019 @schnitzelbutterfingers @lem-20 @choicesficwriterscreations @wackydrabbles
TRR: @twinkleallnight @bebepac @mainstreetreader @romereadingshop @romewritingshop @lem-20 @texaskitten30
#choices fanfiction#choices#the royal romance#fanfic#fandom#fanfiction#drake walker#drake x riley#follow shewillreadyou#kim reads#kim writes
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Prisoner
Reaper/ Gabriel Reyes x Injured! Reader
A/N: You’re an ex Overwatch agent that got captured by Talon and they want information of where the other agents went when Overwatch shut down.
Warnings: Injured Reader/talk of injures and hurting the reader
Word count: 930
Pain, it’s the only thing I could feel as I lay on a cold mat. My ribs ache and my legs and arms are both covered in buries. I ache all but I know this isn’t the end. More beatings and torture will happen till I give answers they like. Though I know nothing, even though my pain-filled thoughts I know for sure I know nothing. But my cries and pleading don’t make them stop hitting me or torturing me. It doesn’t stop till their leader says something, and always looks at me with anger in his eyes. I know one day, I’ll close my eyes after our “meetings'' and I’ll never wake up. My pain will be gone forever.
I close my eyes and think of my old memories of my team. These are the only things keeping me together. Keeping me from closing my eyes and never waking again. I hold on to the fond thoughts of Halloween and the summertime with all my friends. How we would all relax and celebrate something to cheer ourselves up or to have some downtime. Though the memory that really keeps me going is of Gabriel. He and I were very close and almost a couple, but when he passed I lost it all. I choose to live on and stay alive to remember him, no one should be forgotten and so I push on to make sure I can remember him. Though, I do wish I could close my eyes and wake up to him and not this hell hole for once.
A small creak from my door makes me open my eyes and glance over to the door, I could see a dark male figure standing there. This man is my savior, he always brings me painkillers and bandages when I need them.
“I got you pain killer and water.” His voice sounds gruffer than normal but my only guess is he was yelling a lot before coming here.
“Why the harsh voice?” I ask my question as I push myself up the best I can. He assists me the rest of the way up so I can sit up.
His response was sharp and fast, “An argument broke out.” I nod along thinking that was all a lie.
“I see.” A long pause sets in as I sip on my water and he bandages up wounds from my last beating or “integration” as they say. It was normal to have very short chats but they felt so intimate. It feels like I know him and he knows me. Though, I could always feel this since I barely get true human interaction.
“Y/N?” I snap out and look over to him quickly. His blank mask stares back at me and no emotions could ever be shown.
“Yes?” I pause then realize what he had said, “Wait. You know my name?”
He stares for a long moment before nodding. No words, just a nod. This causes questions to arise in me but I didn’t know how to vocally ask him.
Panic starts to form in my gut as I watch him act normal and gather the leftover supplies, “Please don’t leave me.” All my thoughts stop and all I want to do is to beg him to stay. He doesn’t stop his normal routine with me till I grab his wrist. “Stop, please. How do you know my name? At least tell me that. I deserve that.” The tears I’ve held back for so long finally broke free and ran down my cheeks.
He pauses and raises one hand up to my cheek and wipes away some of the falling tears. “Y/N, I knew you. You knew me. We worked together,” He stops almost like he is trying to get his thoughts in order, “We were on the Blackwatch team together.” I tilt my head a little before connecting the dots together. He is the man I’ve held on to for so long. The man I thought was dead.
“You...You’re dead!” I scream. I felt betrayed to know he, the man I grew to love, is on the enemy side now. I want to hit and scream like a child during a tantrum but I can’t do anything. All I can do is sit here in pain and stare all my anger at a blank mask.
“Everyone in Overwatch and Blackwatch thinks that and it will stay that way.” He stands up and looks down at me. “Y/N I always loved you. But I’m sorry you got caught. I may help you with your injuries but I can’t ever get you out.” With that, he turns his back to me and walks out.
I watch him leave and close the door behind him. I kept looking at the door even though it was locked and there was no way of opening it. After a few more minutes I look down at my cup of water and let my tears drip and fall into my water. Knowing Gabriel is alive is amazing news but finding out that he no longer is a good guy breaks me. I have given up, the real Gabriel is dead and this man claiming to be him is just a shell of him.
I place my cup next to my leg and lay down. This is it, I’ve given up. Maybe one day I can see the real Gabriel again. I close my eyes. I began to focus on my breathing and try to sleep so I could see the real Gabriel again.
#Overwatch#overwatch fandom#overwatch fanfic#overwatch gabriel reyes#gabriel#gabriel reyes#gabriel reaper reyes#reader input#reader insert#oneshot#one shot#overwatch one shot#xreader#x reader#overwatch x reader#reaper#gabriel x reader#gabriel reyes x reader#reaper x reader#fanfic#fanifiction#fandom#writing#injury mention#injured reader
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caitee’s 200 followers celebration
in light of recent events(the quinn & brock thing:/) ive decided to post this now. i haven’t quite hit 200 but im only three away now and we all need something to keep our minds off of the recent news(at least i do) and so im really hoping yall will participate:) you all can send requests for the rest of the week for this(just if its in a few days lmk what its for) anyways on to the fun stuff !!!
okay chari gave me this idea! on my last milestone celebration, i did things like “🌊- cast your mutuals as...” and im doing the same thing just using hockey players names. & the names arent in any particular order, i tried to keep players with the teams theyre on but some i forgot and remembered like halfway through and added them towards the end.
if you have any questions about any of the names and what they mean just send me an ask and i’ll explain it better! also! it doesnt matter if you do anon or not! if youre more comfortable sending an ask by anon then thats okay! but dont feel obligated to send any asks at all!! i just thought this would be a fun thing to do since i hit 200 followers and i didnt think i’d get here:) and if you do participate please include the players name so i know which ones which:)
tagging moots!
@kempe @mxltifandoms06 @hymarners @calesykar @moritzseider @jackiesquinn @bestestbenn @vinceduhn @damndunner @dunnerbarzal @dunnwithlyfe @teenagekook
mat barzal-ask/tell me an embarrassing story
anthony beauvillier- ask me about anything (just please no political stuff)(it can be like “where did you come up with your username?”)
anders lee- blurbs (chari will be helping me & i normally dont write anything so dont judge pls)
tyler seguin-send a number between 1-250 and i’ll show you what picture that is in my camera roll
jamie benn- send your assumptions about me
jamie oleksiak- send me something you’ve needed to get off your chest, wether it be anon or not doesnt matter
roope hintz- cast your mutuals( ex: cym with harry potter soulmates) (i’ll do it with obx,harry potter&hockey players)
nolan patrick- moodboards(i’ll look at your blog and make one i think would suit it, also you could send one for mine if you wanted)
travis konecny- spotify wrapped, pick a number say what the song in my 2020 wrapped playlist corresponds with your number
cale makar- abc game, if you dont send it anonymously i’ll pick songs that start with the first letter of your username and so on(ex: anthonybeauvy i’d go a-always you by louis tomlinson then n-no control one direction then continue like that)
tyson jost- ask me for any advice
nathan mackinnon- send or ask for a random storytime
matthew tkachuk-biggest fear(ask what mine is/ something im scared of)
vince dunn- if money wasnt an issue what would you buy(ask me what i would buy or tell me what you’d buy)
elias pettersson-if the pandemic was magically over, we didnt have to worry about it anymore, what would you do, dont have to worry about money or anything(tell me what you’d do or ask what i’d do)
brock boeser- where would you travel if money wasnt an issue? (tell me where you’d go or ask where i’d go!!)
quinn hughes(now im changing it and if you’d like please send sindey crosby instead <3)-where would you live, anywhere in the world , if you could!
mitch marner- whats something most people dont knoe about you? (ask me or tell me)
tagging some moots:)
william nylander-if you could only drink one drink for the rest of your life, what would it be?(ask me or tell me)
pierre luc dubios-favorite book?(ask or tell me)
andrei svechnikov-if you had to live in another time period, what would you choose?
erik johnson- if you had to choose a time period to live in, what would it be? why?
gabriel landeskog- tell me about about something you’re passionate about?
andre burakovsky-if you could choose a fictional universe(ex:marvel,obx,harry potter,star wars) to live in, what would you choose,and why?
mikko rantanen- what are your three biggest pet peeves?
welcome to the appreciation part of this post. in gonna tag some of my closer moots and basically tell them how much i care about them:)))
@kempe we’ve been mutuals for a while now, and im so glad i met you. you have been so so kind to me and we’ve grown so so close! i hope to never lose you ever <3 i love you so so much also remember you are so stunning holy shit zoe youre the light of my life<3
@calesykar arianna babe i literally love you so much, im always gonna be here for you, wether you need help with a fic or something personal i’ll help you!! youre so sweet and im so glad we met! and you’re absolutely gorgeous babes
@hymarners im so glad tumblr let you finally get back on and you found my account somehow, you are so amazing and kind and i am so glad we managed to meet, i love you<3 i may not know what you look like but im sure you are insanely gorgeous
@vinceduhn you are such a kind person, youre an amazing writer and i’ve been following you for a while, and im glad we started interacting ilysm<3
@moritzseider thank you for everything youre so amazing and i love you so so much<3 remember always you’re gorgeous and im always always always here if you need anything bub
@mxltifandoms06 thank you so so much for helping me with this, and anything else youve helped me with!! i love you so so much!!
@jackiesquinn i really appreciate you, im do glad we are mutuals and im literally always here for you<3 remember youre STUNNING and i love you so much
@bestestbenn you are such an amazing author and a kind person bot to mention insanely gorgeous like?? i could never! but im always here to help with whatever you need and im super glad we met i love you<3
@dunnwithlyfe youre so sweet and i know we started talking after all my friend drama but im super glad we started you are amazing !!! ilysm!!!
thank you to anyone who may participate, if not thank you anyway! im super thankful for almost 200!!
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about and navigation
hi here’s a mobile about/navi you can look thru in case you’re new to my blog and wanted to gtk me ♡
name: ally
age: 20+
pronouns: she/her
sign: virgo
mbti: entj
teams:
main: islanders, penguins, avalanche
i live blog so you might want to filter the ff just in case bc we tend to clog up the dash during game night: #isles lb, #avs lb, #pens lb
important links:
→ find me at: solaange
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this is only a side blog. meaning, i don’t follow and like thru this blog at all. my main is at solaange so if you see that user lurkin’, don’t fret cos that’s me!
tagging system:
my stuff (writings/creations)
→ edits, op, gif sets, interviews
→ imagines, blurbs, headcanons
→ barzzal: fic recommendations
personal posts
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everything hockey related
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a few things to know about me:
— living the barzal and crosby life -ˋˏ religiously ˊ-
— i write imagines and make gifs! / do not repost and or steal any of my work + gifs (no matter how bad they are) on other platforms ie. twitter, instagram, inc. tumblr
— the realest hockey quote is still the one where joey said “hockey was a big mistake” bc hun, it is. i dove head first and never came back up
— i love mat when he’s speaking french cos he kinda looks like a smol bèbè. however, tito speaking french? don’t ask me about it i have a weakass pussy
— i’m an adult poc so pls pls lmk if you’re a minor before you interact with me. i don’t mind chatting with yalls but i tend to say things that would for sure get me to jail and i don’t think i’ve watched enough prison break for me to escape that shit
— i have a soft spot for captains ang goalies but i’ve never wanted anything else than to be dicked down by a d man. (ryan graves, i’m talking to u)
— forwards are cute too but they do be sloppy sometimes,, mathew i’m looking straight at you don’t you dare look away
— my ass is pretty much owned/legally allowed to be railed by mat barzal, sidney crosby, tyson jost, andre burakovsky, and sebastian aho only.
players and teams you’ll often see on my blog:
in alphabetical order / (*) main hockeys
carolina hurricanes
andrei svechnikov* | xxxvii
sebastian aho* | xx
colorado avalanche
andre burakovsky* | xcv
cale makar | viii
mikko rantanen* | xcvi
nathan mackinnon | xxix
tyson barrie (i know i know. but for the sake of my sanity, let him stay here)
tyson jost* | xvii (simply can’t deal w this rn)
the whole roster actually
dallas stars
braden holtby
dennis gurianov*
jake oettinger
jason dickinson
roope hintz
tyler seguin | xci
montreal canadiens
carey price | xxxi
new jersey devils
nico hischier
ryan graves* | xxvii
pk subban
new york islanders
anders lee
casey cizikas
anthony beauvillier* | xviii
ilya sorokin*
jean gabriel pageau
mathew barzal* | xiii
matt martin
noah dobson
oliver wahlstrom | xxvi
pittsburgh penguins
evgeni malkin
kris letang
pierre-olivier joseph* | lxxiii
tristan jarry
sidney crosby* | lxxxvii
philadelphia flyers
philippe myers | v
travis konecny* | xi
vancouver canucks
elias pettersson* | xl
zack macewen
seattle kraken
jordan eberle
st. louis blues
colton parayko
tampa bay lightning
mathieu joseph* | vii
toronto maple leafs
mitch marner* | xvi
travis dermott | xxiii
what in the fucking fuck is this fuckery
marc andre fleury
disclaimer: for obvious reasons, players that have openly or have been exposed of their bigotry, oppressive and privileged tendencies, esp. those that have faced issues concerning assault/abuse, are off this blog. this is a safe space for all, so if you support men that are racists, bigots, abusers, and/or oppressors of any kind, please do not interact with me nor hit the follow button.
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Good Omens Headcanon
Angels (and therefore also demons) can grow the hair on their human-mimicking corporations at will. A little bit of concentration, a slight time-bending (demonic) miracle, and >poof<: longer hair. They cannot, however, shorten it. It must be cut, and looses all divinity when it is severed.
The Host were all created with human-mimicking corporations that featured long hair. When the rebellion came, though, the Soon-to-be-Fallen took their weapons, their swords and daggers and spears, the tools that they were meant to use in defense of God and Her Children, and severed their locks, self-harmed their corporations, in defiance.
This is why you see Beelzebub, and Hastur with roughly chopped hair, uneven and hastily done, and others like Ligur with their hair shorn scalp-short, or into deliberately showy punk-peaks like the utility demon. Once they’d Fallen, and became lizards or frogs or swarms of flies or snakes, the corporations they created to puppeteer so they could interact with humanity proudly bore the signs of that first act of rebellion - the short, chopped hair. And they will not grow it out.
But Crowley, who did not Fall so much as Saunter Vaguely Downwards, did not shear himself.
Crowley was just asking questions. He didn’t choose to Rebel. He did not align himself with the Morningstar. But because he was hanging around with the Wrong Crowd, he was cast down all the same, long locks and all.
In defiance of Hell, and perhaps to prove to Her that She had wronged him, he kept his beautiful curls. Let Her watch a demon that still looks like an angel seduce and tempt Her bright new toys. Let his hair be the reminder of all that She forced him into, by refusing to just Answer.
And Crowley, the Flash Bastard who has Gone Native, enjoys making his hair fashionable. Whatever the era, whatever the new look, he’s happy to jump to it, especially since everyone else in Hell has short hair and keeps it that way.
It’s his way of saying, “I don’t belong to Hell. I don’t belong to Heaven. I belong here, with the Humans.”
Alternatively, the Angelic Host, part way through the Rebellion War, realized that long hair rather got in the way during fighting, and either put it up like Michael or cut it off as well - but this time in a clean, neat military style like Uriel or Gabriel.
Aziraphale’s hair was styled into a tight military cut - short sides, top just long enough to push back and keep off his face. It grew a bit during the eons of fighting, only because he was selfish and missed the joy of the wind through his hair as he flew. A little bit longer, a little bit curlier, a little bit fluffier wasn’t going to harm anyone, would it? And Aziraphale is a hedonist at heart - he enjoys savoring every sensation his corporation can experience. He misses the way his curls would bounce and tangle in flight.
And then the First War in Heaven ended.
Hell opened in a chasm, demons were cast down, and Aziraphale was so horrified by everything that had happened that his corporation suffered a terrible shock - and his once-dark curls turned bright white.
Not his eyebrows, those stayed dark. So did the rest of the hair on his body. But the battle-ragged, divine-blood-matted, flaming-sword-singed hair on the top of his head was shocked utterly colourless.
He was relieved when he was sent to the Eastern Gate of Eden, because it meant he was away, away, away from the terrible aftermath of the battle in Heaven. He wouldn’t have to clean up the remains of those who had once been friends, siblings, family - on both sides.
But when he tried to regrow his hair, to recapture some of who he was before battle, and blood, and burning came to define him, the new hair came in dark.
He stopped growing it immediately.
There was just enough of the dark hair for it to be seen against the curve of his scalp, a shadow against his head. He could have kept going, grown it out long enough and then chopped off the horrible white hair.
But then he realized if he did, he’d effectively be erasing the proof of how he had reacted to the battle. The War had scarred him. It changed him, literally. And in honor of those lost - and perhaps to rub it in Her face a little, because what kind of Mother allows Her Children to behave so vilely, to perpetrate such egregious acts against one another, whom they were supposed to love - he chooses to keep his hair white. And to never grow it out again.
And so, our story begins, as it will end, in a Garden.
With an angel with shorn hair, and a demon with luxuriously defined curls, standing at the top of a wall daring their Mother to look down on them on the edge of Eden, and see them for what she had made of them:
A Demon who is Nice enough, deep down, to wear his hair like an Angel.
And an Angel who is hurt enough to be a bit of a Bastard, wearing his like a Demon.
#Good Omens#Headcanon#Aziraphale#Crowley#Hair#also known as#in-canon explanations#for why Michael Sheen's roots were always showing#Angels are Lady Lovely Locks#Now I've Made Myself Sad
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Business Man From Origins But He’s He’s Chat Noir
@the-navistar-carol @eve-valution
So Eve was watching origins and saw that business man that just walks right on past Fu and was like “what if he helped Fu? He would’ve been Chat Noir!”
So here we are. Nothing motivates someone like procrastination and finally, I am out of my writer’s block so maybe I’ll get my prompts done soon.
No salt, except Gabriel Agreste hatred, as usual
I had no idea what I was really doing until half-way through, there will be a second part to complete Origins, which I also have no idea what I’m gonna be doing with
Also, I promise that ending is v much innocent, why are adult-teen friendships hard to write?
Gabriel had places to be. Things to do. Cases to win. Oh, you thought this was Gabriel Agreste? No. This was Gabriel Durand, a powerful lawyer who ruled the court with an iron fist. He knew more details about you than you did. If you faced him in court, you might as well tell the judge that you forfeit, you’re going to lose anyway.
Now, Gabriel thought of himself as a humble man outside of his ruthless court tactics. He tried to help people on his way to and from work and his research projects for work. So when, even when a little behind schedule than normal, he came across an old man on the sidewalk trembling as he reached for his cane, he stooped down to help pick the man up and set him back to his feet.
However, before he could ask if he was alright, the screeching of a car drifting right in the middle of the street to pull up on the sidewalk as a young blond began running up the stairs. Two adults got out, one scarily huge and the other Gabriel was familiar with due to her standing in for the recluse that shared his name. So that must be Adrien Agreste…
Gabriel’s face set. Gabriel- the fashion empire- had always been something that set him off. He switched his phone on to record- they were close enough that recording the altercation from his pocket would do fine. The couple of seconds long interaction found Gabriel with new information. What exactly was going on in the Agreste household?
He turned to the old man who now had a pensive look on his face. “I’m sorry about that- Are you alright, sir? Did you hurt yourself when you fell?” He asked.
“Oh, I’m quite alright,” the old man gave him a sating smile. Gabriel had been around enough snakes to spot a smile meant to placate hiding behind the facade of being genuine.
“Is something troubling you?” Gabriel asked. “I don’t mean to pry, if there is something.”
“Oh no- I just noticed that you tried recording what happened with that young man there. Why?” The old man’s brow furrowed.
“That was Adrien Agreste and two of Gabriel Agreste’s employees. I’ve always thought something was off with that family, but I’ve never had proof of my thoughts. Funny how you employ your son as a model for everything you make and keep him hidden in the house.” Gabriel looked to the school’s stairs, remembering Adrien’s plea. What was the wrath of Gabriel Agreste like?
“Ah, I understand,” the old man hummed, leaning forward on his cane. “You worry about that young man?”
“Indeed,” Gabriel nodded, turning back to the elder. He checked his watch and nearly choked. “I’m so sorry, sir, but I’m running late for work, I must go!” Gabriel wheeled around and ran for it.
And then there were the tremors in the earth, the walls nearly caving from the measured shakes. Fearing an earthquake, the court ran. It didn’t matter about the case- they had just finished up. As Gabriel slid under a bench, he noticed something off about his briefcase. It was soft, meaning he could see if there was a lump in the leather. And indeed- there was a lump. Pulling it out, the lump turned out to be a hexagonal black box with an intricate red design on the cover. Now wasn’t really the time to check out strange items in your briefcase, so he stuck it back in. Just at that moment, a police officer barged into the courtroom, allowing for its occupants to hear the screaming outside. Declaring there was a monster outside, the officer required everyone to run for an inner hiding place.
Gabriel ran for his office. The earthquake wasn’t an earthquake, rather the steps of the stone monster, so while he waited for whatever to happen, he decided to finally check out the contents of the box. He froze when a green light appeared and floated around him. He only blinked when a cat-like bug-thing materialized out of it.
“Oh, fils de pute.”
“Oh, do you kiss your maman with that mouth?”
Gabriel didn’t like this. Why did he let Plagg convince him to do this? Here he was, standing on a rooftop of all places, dressed in something he would never normally were. A lawyer, Plagg had mused and decided this would be fun. Here he was, in a black suit, black button-up, black bowtie, black loafers he wouldn’t normally wear that had grippy cat paw pads on the bottom. Now if the gothic suit wasn’t enough, he was wearing a masquarde-esque black mask that reminded him too much of the Batman masks, with their pointy “bat ears” sticking up from them. He tried tugging it off. Turns out it was like the mask was superglued to his freaking face.
Now, if Gabriel thought he looked ridiculous, it had nothing on the stupid belt tail and, upon looking in a mirror, his cat eyes. His eyes were normally brown, but now they were a glowing amber.
Unbelievable.
No, what was even more unbelievable was that whoever gave him this miraculous, didn’t find another adult. No. They gave it to some young teenage girl. Who stuttered and had confidence issues. He wasn’t a dad! He was bad with kids! How was he supposed to help her?!
“Uh, don’t worry too much,” he tried a smile. She still looked at him with wide, scared eyes. “I mean, I’m also new at this. I don’t even know the first thing of what I’m doing right now. Plagg, my kwami, told me a few things, but he didn’t really give me a confidence booster besides telling me-” he mimicked Plagg’s voice “-it’ll be fun! Loosen up, law-boy!”
It seemed to work, the girl giggled at his impression of Plagg. “A-ah, thank you.”
“So, what does your miraculous do? Perhaps we can plan before shoving ourselves into that situation,” Gabriel asked, grabbing the black-matted chrome bo-staff he had been trying to figure out when the girl ran into him. One of the golden paw-pads slid a screen up, and he finally found out that he could read his powers on there.
“Uh, Tikki told me it was…” the girl frowned. “If I say it, even in a sentence, will it activate it?”
“Probably,” Gabriel grunted. “It looks like I’m your support though. I can destroy things at a touch, I can also send a ball of destructive energy out, but I’m not too sure about trying that right now.”
“My power is something lucky. I have to tear the item the Akuma is hiding… and…” the girl’s face started to show panic again. “What else was I supposed to do?!”
“Don’t worry right now,” Gabriel crouched so that he was looking up at her. “Let’s prioritize. There is an- what did you call it?” He had heard her, but he wanted to keep her grounded.
“An Akuma,” the girl answered, her fists still clenched tightly.
“Okay, so we need to find that. We need to break it. In words, it sounds easy. I’m sure with your power, it’ll either give us great luck or give us something helpful to increase our chances. So now, the words sound a little more plausible. If anything goes wrong, we’ll fall back and regroup and plan. Does that round alright?” Gabriel asked.
“Yeah…” the girl nodded. “Um… What do I call you?”
“Hm…” Gabriel hummed. “Well, my miraculous is the black cat, yeah? Call me Chat Noir.” He didn’t ask the girl, and perhaps he should’ve, but he felt she would’ve panicked on finding a name.
They found Stoneheart at the DuPont stadium, chasing a young teen. Gabriel vaulted off the wall, extended his bo-staff to slam down between Stoneheart and the teen.
“Don’t you know assault and property damage is illegal?” he found himself asking, buying the teen time to run while Stoneheart was focused on him.
Having no clever words, Stoneheart instead decided to try to squish him underhand. Swinging his bo-staff at Stoneheart, he tried to trip him. Instead, the staff bounced off and Stoneheart grew in size.
“Merde, merde, merde,” Gabriel muttered, finding himself flipping away. Where did his sudden athleticism come from? He was a lawyer, for God’s sake! And where was his partner? Please don’t say she bailed on him, he would more than likely kill Stoneheart than “free the Akuma” if he used his power on Stoneheart.
Speaking of which, the monster picked up a soccer goal post and tossed it at him. Unaware of his surroundings, he batted it away, only to then realize there was a person in the way. He tossed his staff, sending it flying after pressing the extend button. Right before the goal post hit her, the staff reached and the civilian was unharmed. However, that left him without a weapon, and Stoneheart grabbed him.
“What are you waiting for, super red bug? The world is watching you!” The civilian called, and Gabriel found solace in that. The girl was still there, but she was perhaps still on the verge of a panic attack. He didn’t think that would help her; in fact, he thought that would only send her further down the rabbit hole.
However, suddenly the teen slid under Stoneheart’s legs and had a brave smile on her face. “Animal cruelty? How shameful!” And with a mighty tug, Stoneheart was sent onto his back and Gabriel went flying into the goal post on the other end of the field.
“Sorry I took so long, Chat Noir,” the girl fretted.
“It’s alright,” Gabriel grunted as he rolled to his feet. “You were nervous and that is fully understandable. But we’re together now, aren’t we?”
The girl gave him a beaming smile before looking back at Stoneheart with a frown. “Any plans? He gets bigger with every attack… We’ll need to do something other than attack, right?”
“I think it’s time to use your luck,” Gabriel nodded to her.
The girl made a sound of confirmation and tossed her yo-yo into the air. “Lucky Charm!”
A wet suit fell into her hands.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” She shrieked. “How am I supposed to break anything with this?”
“He’s made of stone…” Gabriel began to analyze their opponent. “His right hand is clenched, he only uses his right. You think he’s holding his Akuma?” Gabriel suggested.
The girl perked, her eyes taking in other things while Gabriel kept his attention on Stoneheart. “Here’s my plan!”
Gabriel spared her a glance. “Anything you need me to do?”
She poked the hose at their feet into the wetsuit and then wrapped her yo-yo around his legs. “I’m sorry- do you mind being bait?”
Absolutely he minded! But, he only gave her a nervous grin before he was tossed towards Stoneheart. Now caught, he turned his attention towards the girl, confused as she called towards the monster. “Catch me if you can!”
And she was also caught, but he noticed the purple wadded ball of something fall to the ground. She turned towards the girl that he had saved earlier. “Alya, the tap!”
Did she know the girl?
But either way, the girl- Alya - turned on the hose and his partner popped out of the giant’s hand. She stomped on the paper ball, and a purple-black butterfly fluttered away. Gabriel fell to the ground with the disappearance of Stoneheart and the appearance of a rather large teen.
“Are you alright, boy?” Gabriel found himself asking, sitting on the ground and folding over his knees.
“I- What happened?” The boy asked.
“You were… I guess the word would be Akumatized,” Gabriel offered. He felt bad for thinking of him as a monster- he was only influenced by the Akuma! Would all so-called monsters just be victims of Akumas? “But it’s alright. My partner and I helped you.”
The sound of his partner’s voice brought the two out of their conversation- she was reading the paper that had held the Akuma.
“Kim wrote it,” the boy sighed. “He’s always making fun of me.”
“You know, you shouldn’t get so bent out of shape about that. There’s no shame in telling someone you love them, Ivan.”
Was this girl a classmate? She knows the name of two teenagers- of which there were probably a million in Paris- and knew a lot more about the situation than he was.
“How do you know my name, miss?”
That sent the girl into a nervous giggle fit. Thankfully, she was saved from answering that. Alya was recording them at an uncomfortably close distance.
“Uncanny! A-mazing! Spectacular! Are you gonna be protecting Paris from now on? How did you get your powers? Oh, I’ve got a ton of questions to ask you… uh?”
Gabriel looked to his partner. He wasn’t about to promise anything she was too nervous about. The girl met his eyes and nodded. Gabriel stood, helping Ivan to his feet as well.
“Ladybug. Call me Ladybug,” the girl held her head up.
“Chat Noir,” Gabriel dipped his head. “We’ll protect you and find the source of this phenomenon.”
Gabriel found he kind of liked the whole experience, once the threat of death was gone. Ladybug was a nice girl, he hoped she stuck around despite her anxiety.
#mlb#miraculous ladybug#business dude in origins#I thought naming him Gabriel would be funny#Adult-teen friendships are possible and that is what I intended with that ending please don't crucify me over that
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“Come on, then! Hit me!” ( from genji, ow-era )
ஃ ➡ sparring starters // @pafallende
the blackwatch operatives are not HIS to train—their schedules are overseen by REYES, training matches allotted in appropriate time slots, rarely corresponding with recruit training hours——but jack chalks his visit up to ‘ typical leader-role obligation, ’ plotting reasoning to his peering in on blackwatch training on the off-chance he’s to run into the COMMANDER—
—yet gabriel’s presence is NOTICEABLY lacking, something for which seems to give the agents the CONFIDENCE to beckon jack over, insisting he show them some of the tactics HE picked up in the SEP ; he insists much of what he learned had been by gabriel’s guidance, yet STILL there’s operatives urging him to face them on the mat.
it’s all in good fun, & doesn’t take too much TAUNTING for him to concede.
AGENT AFTER AGENT take their turns being PERSONALLY & REPEATEDLY introduced to the padded flooring ; a handful at ONCE in some cases, & jack can’t lie & say he isn’t the least bit GIDDY to prove himself to gabriel’s division—not that he thought they lacked RESPECT for him, it’s just… everything’s been so MUDDLED as of late, & gabe’s constant ( & frankly UNSUBTLE ) efforts in keeping jack distanced from blackwatch have done NOTHING to HELP—it’s NICE, this chance to prove himself to those of whom he gets limited interaction with. they’re all of the SAME GOAL, yet sometimes it feels as though they’re wholly different organizations altogether.
—over half an hour in & in come gabe’s top two agents ; they seem content to sit back & WATCH for the time being, up until shimada steps up to the mat, an act for which clears all others off INSTANTLY——THIS is something jack had been EXPECTING.
—THE SPAR persists longer than all others before it had, genji’s agility & sharp motions enough to lead jack around the mat, dizzying him & allowing openings for genji to dart in with a well-placed blow—but it’s not enough to take down the strike commander, & while jack may not be quick enough to CATCH genji, he HAS managed to snag the cyborg at one point & physically THROW HIM across the mat.
—it’s not long before genji gets him BACK, surprising jack with a feint & coming around to smash metallic fist against the strike commander’s NOSE—& in the next moment, there’s a BLOOM of red that leads to a HALT in combat.
a beat for SILENCE, the room quiet where previously recruits had been chanting & cheering ; before this jack’s intention had been merely to STAVE OFF the cyborg, but it seems genji’s genuinely out for BLOOD—it’s jack who reintroduces noise to the staggered training hall, swiping a wrist beneath his nose & spreading blood across his cheek ;
“ ALRIGHT THEN - no more playing around. ”
#If You're Going All Out Than So Will He ;;;;#ஃ ➡ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ʲᵒᵏᵉʳˢ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵐʸ ᵖᵒᶤᶰᵗ ( answers )#i wrote half two days ago & half five minutes ago & i haven't proofread it because i can't read. ;;#pafallende
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The Question
This is my first Destiel fanfic! If you want to read it on ao3 by any chance, here’s a link :) x
The first time someone asks Dean The Question, he's only in Kindergarten.
The culprit is his pigtail-wearing best friend Charlie, who's never been afraid to ask him anything.
"Do you love Castiel?" she asks.
Dean takes a moment to think. He and Castiel are friends, of course. They've been sitting at the same table since the beginning of the school year. Dean used to have trouble pronouncing Castiel's full name, so he gave him the nickname Cas. Every time Dean uses the name, Cas smiles, and it makes Dean happy. All the same, Dean's not really sure whether he loves Cas or not. He knows he loves Charlie. He knows he loves his family, especially his baby brother Sammy. But Cas?
In the end, Dean asks a question of his own. "How do you know if you love someone?"
"When you're always happy to see them," Charlie replies back immediately.
Dean ponders it a little longer, eventually deciding, "Then, yeah. I love Cas."
Charlie grins. "Me too. Let's see if he wants to play now."
The second time someone asks Dean The Question, he's in third grade.
Charlie is again the culprit. She may have outgrown the pigtails, but she never outgrew that strong sense of curiosity.
She asks him while they're both sitting at their desks during free time. Dean's been coloring a birthday card for Castiel, who's already turning nine in the middle of September. He's in the middle of making a joke about how Cas is as old as the Tyrannosaurus rex he loves to read about when Charlie interrupts.
Dean looks up from his card, shooting a Duh look at Charlie. "Of course I do. Do you even have to ask?"
Charlie looks like she wants to say something more, but eventually she just shrugs. "Guess not."
The third time someone asks Dean The Question, he's in sixth grade.
Surprisingly, it's not Charlie who asks this time. It's their friend Dorothy.
"Uh, what?" Dean asks, eloquent as ever, tearing his eyes away from where they'd been glued to Cas's movements.
The three of them are at one of Cas's karate tournaments, and he's currently sparring against another green belt. Every time he's unable to block a punch or kick, Dean sucks in a sharp breath. He knows that there's not much chance of real harm—especially since Cas has been doing this since he was six years old—but he can't stop himself from worrying anyway.
"I asked if you love Castiel," she repeats bluntly. "You haven't taken your eyes off him once since he stepped on that mat."
So Dean wasn't being subtle at all, evidently. He feels his cheeks heat up. "Yeah, well, it's hard to watch that scrawny nerd go up against these guys." He refrains from mentioning that he's watched it several times, knowing that wouldn't help his case.
Even so, Dorothy looks at him skeptically. "He's pretty good, Dean. You sure that's it?"
That's the problem. Dean's positive that's not, in fact, it.
Dean knows he loves Cas. He loves it when Cas smiles at him, particularly the exasperated-but-fond smile Dean receives most of the time. He loves how Cas interacts with Sam, forever patient and willing to answer any questions the inquisitive eight-year old has. He loves any time that he spends with Cas, even if all they do is lay around playing video games.
To tell the truth, Dean's a little afraid of his feelings. He knows they're different than anything he feels for his other friends, or even his family. It's not that they're deeper, exactly, but they resonate in a different way. They're always there, just under the surface, steady and unwavering.
Dean realizes he still hasn't answered Dorothy's question, and she's still looking at him expectantly. Finally, he just shrugs and says, as casually as he can manage, "Cas is family."
It's both an answer and an evasive tactic, but it seems to appease Dorothy, who turns back to watch the two opponents battle.
When Cas wins the match, the three friends cheer so loudly that a lady in front of them actually turns around to give them a dirty look.
And if Dean's cheeks flame again when Cas directs that smile his way, well, that's nobody's business but his.
The fourth time someone asks Dean The Question, it's because of freaking Truth or Dare.
It's the first time Cas is with him and close enough to hear. Charlie, Dorothy, Dean, and Cas are all sleeping over at Cas's house. His parents, who are pityingly oblivious and somewhat old-fashioned, ordered that Dean and Cas sleep in one bedroom while Charlie and Dorothy sleep in a separate one.
(Dean had to fight hard to keep his laughter to himself. Oh, the sweet, naive Novaks. Dean could practically feel Charlie's glee. She's had a crush on Dorothy for two months now, and she's been waiting for a good opportunity to make her feelings known.)
It's almost midnight, and it's Dean's turn to pick Truth or Dare. He's already had to jump on Michael's back (who just sighed and promptly dumped Dean onto the couch while the rest of them laughed), draw a dick on a napping Luke's forehead (who they could faintly hear shouting "Fuck you, Cas!" behind his closed door twenty minutes later), and steal three bags of M&Ms from Gabe's "secret" stash in the empty Frosted Flakes box he keeps in the pantry (which legitimately terrified Dean a little, especially since Gabe is extremely protective over his sweets and might actually kill him if he finds out).
He feels like Cas's older brothers have been tortured enough, and to be honest, he's still casting wary glances towards Gabe's door, so he picks Truth.
Dorothy looks between him and Cas, then whispers, "Do you love Cas?"
Yeah, Dean's not equipped to handle this. Because he can tell Dorothy doesn't mean the platonic kind of love, but at the same time he's not going to confess his feelings in a cheap game like this. If he was ever going to confess his feelings.
Just thinking the words "confess his feelings" gives him a headache.
So, even though he knows it's a cop-out, he answers, "Well, yeah, of course I love Cas." Dean slings an arm around Cas's shoulder casually. "He's my best friend."
Cas grins at Dean, and Dean smiles back. Honestly, if Dorothy thought he was going to answer any differently, then she doesn't know him at all.
Dorothy seems disappointed, but not surprised, as if she knew Dean would intentionally misinterpret her question. "I meant do you—"
She's interrupted by Gabriel's voice booming, "Who took my M&Ms?"
Dorothy never finishes her thought, because the four of them exchange wide-eyed, terrified looks, quickly abandoning the living room and sprinting to the relative safety of Cas's bedroom upstairs.
(Dean spares a moment to mentally thank Gabe for disrupting what could've been a disaster. And then he hauls ass, because he's taking up the rear and if any of them are dying tonight, it's not gonna be him, thank you very much.)
The fifth time someone asks Dean The Question, he's genuinely conflicted on how he should answer.
What's the protocol for when your best friend is sobbing because her girlfriend had to move away earlier that day, but you feel like you might genuinely explode if you don't tell her you think you're in love with your other best friend?
"I mean, I know you're best friends," Charlie continues, sniffling, "but I've seen how you look at him, Dean. And Dorothy—she saw it too." Just saying her name is enough to send Charlie into a fresh round of tears. Dorothy and Charlie had been together since seventh grade, even managing to survive the first year of high school together. But then Dorothy's dad got promoted, and suddenly she had to move across the country. Unwilling to do long-distance because she claimed she didn't want their relationship to fizzle out over a few months, Dorothy broke it off with Charlie a couple weeks before she moved. Charlie agreed that was probably best, but of course it still hurt.
She'd held off on the tears until today, though. As soon as Dorothy left, that's when the waterworks started. There's even a pint of mint chocolate chip on the nightstand next to Charlie's bed right now, along with a box of tissues.
Dean realizes that he doesn't want to burden Charlie with his feelings, not while she's dealing with her own troubles. So he lies through his teeth and says, "Charlie, Cas is like my brother."
He's not sure Charlie believes him, but she seems too upset to say anything else. When he suggests they watch Star Wars together, she nods and quietly retrieves the disk to put in her laptop.
She falls asleep on Dean's shoulder thirty minutes in. He kisses her forehead and lets her sleep.
The sixth time someone asks Dean The Question is the first time he answers completely honestly since Kindergarten.
It's most likely due to the alcohol in his system. Dean's the type of drunk with no filter whatsoever, and normally he has Cas around to censor his thoughts and make sure he doesn't get punched in the face. But Cas went off with Meg Masters earlier, disappearing into some dark hallway, and Dean saw the vodka and figured that was better than actually dealing with the ugly emotions brewing in his gut.
He's currently in the middle of pouring himself a fourth cup when Charlie seems to appear out of nowhere. "Dude, I think you've had enough," she says, carefully plucking the cup from his grasp.
Considering he can still see the image of Cas's fingers tangled in Meg's hair, Dean has had nowhere near enough. "Where's Gilda?" he says back, eyeing the cup. Charlie notices this and swiftly pours it into a nearby plant. Dean shouts indignantly at the waste of perfectly good alcohol.
"She went back home because she had a headache," Charlie says, scrutinizing Dean with her eyes slightly narrowed. "But enough about my girlfriend. Are you okay? You seem weirdly tense."
"I'm fine," Dean says roughly.
Charlie, obviously and with good reason, doesn't believe him. Then she seems to notice someone's missing. "Hey, where's Cas?"
"With Meg Masters," Dean answers, the name leaving a horrible taste on his tongue.
Charlie raises an eyebrow at him. "I thought they hated each other."
"Then maybe they're hate fucking, who knows," Dean spits out, realizing too late he should've made it seem like he doesn't care.
Charlie looks taken aback by Dean's outburst. But then she gets this look in her eyes that only ever means bad things for Dean. Like when she managed to drag him into LARPing, and as if that weren't enough, made him her handmaiden. Sam fell off the couch laughing when Dean stepped out of his room in the costume. To this day there's a picture of Dean decked out in his LARPing gear, frown on his face, on Sam's bedroom wall.
Charlie leads them towards the backyard, to an abandoned fire pit where they don't have to raise their voices to be heard. "Dean," she begins carefully. "Why are you so upset?"
Dean hates her tone of voice. Charlie's not timid; she's the type of girl to push him and push him and push him until he gives her the answer she was looking for. If she's using such a gentle tone with him, she knows that this is something big.
He knows that if he opens his mouth, he's not gonna be able to lie about it, so he stays quiet. It doesn't stop Charlie from continuing. "It's because of Cas, isn't it."
It's not a question.
"Do you love him?"
And there it is. Dean spares a glance at her, searching and earnest and no judgment in her eyes whatsoever, and the fight goes out of him. He slumps back against the back of the chair he's sitting in.
"I'm in love with him," Dean finally admits. "Have been for a while now, actually."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Charlie asks. Dean knows the question is made only out of genuine curiosity, not because Charlie is hurt that he kept something from her.
He shrugs. "I didn't tell anyone. It's not that important."
"Not important?" Charlie's looking at him like he just said that Hermione should've been killed off in the last book. "Dean, I'm pretty sure Cas has been in love with you since he knew you."
Dean looks at her flatly. "Charlie, you don't have to make shit up to console me about the fact that he's probably screwing Meg right now. I'm a big boy. I can handle it."
"I'm not making anything up, Dean! Literally anyone that knows who you two are can see it. When Sam was younger, he even asked me if I thought Cas would ever ask you out."
Dean's oddly offended. If anyone's doing the asking, it's him.
Wait, fuck, that's not the point. "I'm going inside," Dean says with a tone of finality, rising from his chair. Charlie recognizes this as the clear dismissal it is and huffs, but doesn't say anything else.
Good. Dean's had enough sharing and caring for tonight.
The seventh time someone asks Dean The Question, it's Castiel himself.
"You love me?" he asks, his blue eyes wide in shock.
Well, that's not how Dean planned for tonight to go. He'd finally decided to get his shit together and ask Cas out, and he'd even enlisted Sam's help for ideas on how to do it. Together, they'd decided on burgers at The Roadhouse, then a movie afterwards, then back to Dean's house, where he'd finally come clean to Cas. Honestly, besides the part about him admitting his feelings, it's not any different than when he normally hangs out with his best friend.
Except the burgers and movie didn't happen. Because Cas came over to Dean's house to grab a sweater that he'd left behind, and then he stayed to find a new book to borrow from Dean's bookshelf, and something about the way he looked with his head tilted as he examined the books with reverence, tracing the spines idly with the tips of his fingers—something about that made it impossible for Dean not to say "I love you."
Which is why Cas is now looking at him, not moving, his mouth slightly ajar.
He looks so stupid that Dean can't help walking towards him and kissing him.
He faintly registers the book dropping as Cas immediately kisses him back.
When they pull apart, Cas looks stunned at first. But slowly, a wide smile takes over his face, the gummy one where his eyes crinkle at the corners. He's looking at Dean with so much love in his eyes that Dean almost doesn't know how to process it.
Suddenly, however, the smile drops, and he looks horrified. Dean's about to freak the fuck out when Cas looks at the floor, where the forgotten book lays.
"Do you think I dented it?" Cas asks, looking back up at Dean with genuine worry in his eyes.
Cas, lover of books. Cas, who in the immediate aftermath of kissing his best friend (and, if Charlie and Sam are to be believed, long-time crush), turns to an inanimate object because he's worried he dented it.
Cas, who Dean loves so deeply that sometimes he doesn't even know what to do with it.
Dean can't resist pulling Cas in for another kiss.
The eighth time someone asks Dean The Question, he's immediately suspicious.
"Dean, you love me, right?" Cas calls from elsewhere in their apartment, probably the living room.
Dean, from where he's lying down on their bed listening to music, narrows his eyes. "What did you do?" he calls back.
"Nothing!" Cas replies quickly, which obviously means the exact opposite. Dean sighs heavily and reluctantly gets off the bed, walking to the living room, talking as he goes.
"I swear, if you brought another stray cat into our apartment, which you know doesn't allow pets—"
Dean stops in his tracks. Cas shrugs casually. "Well. It's not a cat."
Yeah, thanks, Cas. Dean kind of got that when he saw the giant golden retriever sitting obediently at Cas's feet, tongue hanging out, tail wagging excitedly. And now that Dean's taking a closer look, he realizes he recognizes this dog. "Wait, is this Bones?"
"Sam asked us to take care of Bones for the weekend while he takes a vacation with Jess," Cas says. Except Dean knows Cas, and he knows all his tells. Like the way he's shifting on the balls of his feet right now. Cas may have one hell of a poker face, but he can be an amazingly shitty liar sometimes.
"Sam knows they don't allow pets in our apartment." Dean sends a challenging look at Cas.
Cas holds his stare. Eventually, he squares his shoulders and says, "Sam may have been telling me that they were trying to find a dogsitter for Bones, and I may have volunteered our apartment. At which point Sam may have tried to decline, knowing about the no-pets rule, and at which point I may have forcibly insisted to the degree that he decided it was in his best interest to leave Bones with us."
Dean takes one look at Cas standing there, an embarrassed look on his face but a defiant stance in his body, and he knows that nothing he says will change Cas's mind. He also knows that he doesn't even care if their landlord finds out, because there's no way in hell Dean is robbing Cas of anything that makes him as happy as Bones does (even if he might bitch about it just because).
"You're lucky I love you," Dean says, rolling his eyes.
Cas, the shithead, just grins back. "I know."
The ninth time someone asks Dean The Question, he almost doesn't even hear it. He's too busy pacing the room in his tuxedo, trying not to puke.
Sam's there as well, trying to calm him down. Dean guesses that Charlie's in Cas's room right now, doing the same thing, otherwise she'd be in here as well. It's oddly reassuring, thinking that Castiel is just as nervous as he is. Still doesn't stop him from circling the room with a nervous energy. "Dean, you love him, don't you?" Sam asks in a placating tone.
"No, Sam, I'm just in it for the money," Dean says, deadpan. Sam gives him the patented Bitch Face.
"Just saying. You know you love him, and really, that's all that matters." Dean makes a face at Sam, who doesn't say anything else. But he does stay in Dean's room until the ceremony's about to begin, which helps soothe Dean's nerves greatly. Honestly, Dean really lucked out with Sam as his little brother. He ruffles Sam's hair as they exit the room.
The final time someone asks Dean The Question, it feels like it couldn't have arrived any sooner.
Actually, it's not exactly The Question. It's a longer, more rambling version. But when you strip it down to its very core, it means the same thing.
"I do," Dean says, smiling as he slips the ring on Cas's finger, unbelievably elated.
The officiant turns to Cas and asks the same thing. Cas full-on beams, putting the ring on Dean's finger as he answers, "I do."
They kiss to a room full of their friends and family cheering, but neither of them even registers it.
All they register when they pull apart is each other, and how lucky they are to be able to spend the rest of their life with their best friend.
~
(There's only one time that Cas remembers being asked his own Question, because his answer has always remained the same.
"Do you love Dean?" Kindergarten-Charlie asked, sweet and innocent with her pigtails and pink dress.
"Of course I do," Cas said back, without hesitation. "I always will.")
#destiel#destiel au#high school au#destiel fanfic#dean winchester#castiel#charlie bradbury#sam winchester#dorothy baum
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Re:ground
@wzzm13: Hidden poetry 'You can only discover on purpose' turns project into passion for Michigan artist
1.7.21 • 8:52pm • Twitter
Gabrielle Eisma decided to turn the city of Grand Rapids, Mi. into a canvas. She stamped poems written by classmates into hard-to-find places around town.
GRAND RAPIDS, Mich. — You know that feeling when you find something that you weren't really looking for?
An art student in Grand Rapids has made the city her canvas to share her classmate's poetry, but finding her work will require one to really pay much closer attention to their surroundings.
"I like an intimate interaction with my art," said Gabrielle Eisma, who is a junior BFA in Studio Art and writing double major at Calvin University. "I wanted [my project] to be something that maybe was an art that didn't need to be seen."
In a typical year, one where COVID-19 isn't forcing students to have to study remotely, they'd be creating their graphic design projects for an indoor gallery space, but because nobody can gather, Eisma decided to think outside the box.
She wanted people to discover things.
Her project, called 'Re:ground,' has been described as a 'poetic geo-caching experience.' She enlisted 16 local artists, mostly comprised of Calvin University professors and fellow students, to write poetry with the voice behind it speaking for the ground beneath our feet.
Once Eisma had all 16 poems in hand, she decided to take her college project a step further. She took the poems, along with a hammer, sitting mat and a set of 1/8" die stamps, and set out on a 'poetry pilgrimage,' stamping each poem into locations within nature.
She stamped a poem on a a dock overlooking a lake by her house. She also engraved one on the inside wall of a culvert, as well as on a piece of wood attached to a silo near the Gypsum Mine in Grand Rapids.
"I wanted to put myself in each poet's shoes and experience the poem that they've written," said Eisma. "I think if you were on a hike and you accidentally discovered a poem written on a tree, you'd likely be way more interested to stop and read it than if you read one in a book.
"You might reflect on what it means for you in that place, how it got there, are there more or is this alone."
Eisma says if people find her poems, it'll more than likely be by accident.
"There has to be something within that's needing to discover something," added Eisma. "If people do find one, I can't wait to hear about it."
16 stamped poems can be found around West Michigan near random parks and parking lots, gardens and playgrounds and on a few felled trees.
"I think I'm comfortable with the fact that each place I stamped a poem now has a voice," said Eisma. "I also hope that the people who saw [a poem] were the ones that needed to see it.
"And even if I end up being the only person who sees them, I think that still makes it worth it."
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