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roosterforme · 6 months

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Adult Education Part 11 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jessica finally tells someone what happened with Brian, and maybe Jake would be just as understanding if she told him. With the fraternity fundraiser a few days away, her nerves start getting the best of her, but Jake continues to show how effortlessly he can make her happy.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing, frat boys 18+

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jessica felt so much better and yet emotionally drained at the same time. She spent almost thirty minutes telling her friend what happened with Brian, and she was pleasantly surprised to find that the other woman wasn't judgmental in the least. When Jessica was finally done talking, she sank back in her chair and fixed her glasses.

"So, yeah... that's why he's holding a grudge. That's why he won't give me tenure even though I deserve it."

She was met with a stony expression. "Just say the word, and Conley is going down. Have you... mentioned this to Jake?"

"No," Jessica replied immediately, her skin itching at the thought. "No."

"You should," she replied slowly. "I think he'd be surprisingly attentive, and I say that a bit begrudgingly."

Jessica cracked a smile as she grabbed her empty tupperware container and stood. "I'll think about it, Dr. Tits." She left the office to the sound of genuine laughter, but by the time she got back to her office, she felt exhausted. It wasn't fair that Brian had taken up so much space in her brain for so long. When Jake texted her and let her know he couldn't make it to her office hours, she felt almost relieved.

The fraternity fundraiser was this Saturday, and she'd planned everything out as much as she could. Everything was checked off her list, and she was going to meet with the Kappa Pi students at their house on Wednesday evening. The only thing she hadn't done was log into the university portal and see how many tickets had sold for the event.

Alumni weekend was a huge deal, and it was well attended and advertised, but she was still dreading checking. So she finished all of her classes for the afternoon and then ducked into the lounge to make herself a cup of coffee before her office hours started.

She looked up as someone else entered, and it was Brian's teaching assistant. The one he was almost definitely sleeping with. "Hi," she said cautiously.

Jessica just nodded at her. She wanted to warn this poor girl, but it was obvious that Brian had her in a similar position to which Jessica had been in last school year. Plus, she already knew he'd make sure both women paid the price if she did.

It was with tears in her eyes that Jessica returned to her office. That hopeful feeling from lunch was gone now, and she really wished Jake was able to stop by today after all. She plopped down at her desk and decided to just log in and see how poorly her ticket sales had gone.

"Holy shit," she muttered, nearly spilling her coffee. Over one hundred tickets had sold, and the event was still days away. "Oh my god." Tears welled up in her eyes as she did the math quickly in her head. Her event would make over five thousand dollars for the school. Hopefully the fraternity house would be able to hold that capacity.

When her phone vibrated on her desk, she was startled from her thoughts.

Jake Seresin: I miss you too much. I can't stay long, but I'll be there in ten.

She didn't even bother to respond, but she was waiting by the open door for him when he rushed down the hallway. "Jake," she said with a soft laugh as he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. He was still wearing his flight suit, and he was a little out of breath.

"I missed you," he whispered against her lips, and that made her a little bit out of breath as well. One big hand slid down to her butt as he said, "We had late training days sprung on us for today and tomorrow, and I volunteered to pick up dinner. I talked them into the Thai restaurant down the block from here." Then he froze as Jessica ran her fingers along his patches. "Were you crying? It looks like you were crying."

She shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, but it's not bad." She smiled more as Jake kissed along her cheeks. "A ton of tickets sold for my event on Saturday."

"How many?" he asked, looking at her with pride.

"Over one hundred."

"Damn, you're good, Baby."

Jessica was looking up at his handsome features and his sexy smirk while he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb lazily along her bottom lip. She kissed his thumb before licking him, and when his eyes went wide, she laughed. "You can't stay?"

He shook his head. "I'll come back on Thursday. We can go to Chippy's after your office hours?"

"Yeah," she replied, tracing his HANGMAN patch. She could already hear Luca's skateboard on the tiled hallway floor, so she needed to be quick. "Do you want to sleep over on Friday night at my place? We could head to the event from there on Saturday? I could... show you the lingerie in my closet?"

Jake groaned softly, and goosebumps rippled down her neck as he asked, "Will you let me pick out something pretty for you to wear?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed as she pressed her lips to his neck. "Anything you want."

"Yes," he gasped, and then you heard Luca whistle.

"Get it, Dr. Reed," he said as he kicked his skateboard up into his hand. "Want me to come back later?"

"No," Jessica said as she disentangled herself from Jake's wandering hands while she blushed. "He was just leaving," she said. Then she looked up at Jake's green eyes and wide pupils. "You were just leaving."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he kissed her lips softly and said, "Call me later tonight. I'll see you on Thursday."

She watched him rush back toward the elevator before she closed her door behind her. "How many times do I have to remind you not to skate in the hallways?"

"Sorry, Dr. Reed."

"Get out your notebook."

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

When Jessica heard a knock on her office door on Wednesday around dinnertime, she called out, "It's open." Really, she was on her way to the Kappa Pi house, and she hadn't left herself much time to deviate from her agenda. Hopefully whoever this was would make it quick, but then she smiled when she realized who it was. "Advanced Calculus. What's up?"

"Just wondering if you were looking for someone to tag along? I speak fluent 'frat boy', and Bradley is training late with Jake."

Jessica was shocked into silence for a beat. "Yeah. I would love that. I'm actually a little nervous about meeting them."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You've got boobs and a pretty face. They'll be eating out of your hand, literally doing whatever you want them to."

"I'm not so sure," she replied with apprehension. But when they walked across campus to the old Victorian fraternity house with KAPPA PI on the front of it and knocked, Jessica was pleasantly surprised.

A lanky guy with bad acne opened the door, and his eyes bugged out as he looked between the two women. "Dr. Reed?" he asked in awe.

"Yes, that's me," Jessica replied, reaching out to shake his head before introducing him to the other professor. When he made no move to do anything except stare at them, she asked, "Can we come in?"

"Y-Yes. I'm James by the way."

Jessica led the way inside, and she was pleasantly surprised again. The front foyer opened up to a rather cavernous living room and dining room. There were beautiful hardwood floors and rich paint colors and a fireplace. The house was clean, and she was sure the kegs and tables would fit inside without issue once the furniture was moved out onto the back lawn.

"Your house is so clean! Where are your fraternity brothers?" the other woman asked, and James blushed bright pink.

A few minutes later, there was a lineup of a dozen or so guys staring at the two women. Their expressions ranged from surprise to bewilderment, but there were two on the end who looked like they just won the lottery.

"Okay, hi. I'm Dr. Reed from the physics department, and I actually recognize a few of you. Calvin?" she asked, smiling at one of them. "From last semester?" He waved awkwardly back at her. "Right, well, I'm your advisor for the alumni event this weekend. I have a list of things you need to do before Saturday at six o'clock." She started passing out copies to each of them as she read off the list. "Move the furniture. Clean the kitchen. Fill the keg barrels with ice. And so on. Any questions?"

Five hands shot up, and Jessica stepped back in surprise. "Here it comes," Advanced Calculus muttered as Jessica pointed to the smirking guy at the end.

He nodded at Jessica and asked, "If I switch my major to physics, will you be teaching all the classes?"

"Um, no," she answered, shaking her head in confusion. Then she pointed at the one next to him who had his hand raised.

"Do either of you need a date for Saturday night?" he asked eagerly.

Jessica snorted and covered her mouth with her hand. She was about to answer when her friend said, "Both of our dates are in the military. And they're jacked. And they're mean."

A chorus of boos and groans filled the space, and Jessica had to try her best to answer the relevant questions without laughing. She showed the boys where to move the furniture, and she inspected the kitchen. Then she checked to see if there was enough room for the string quartet next to the stairs. She was determined to deliver on the elevated frat boy aesthetic since so many people seemed excited about it.

"I think we're done for the day," Jessica told the guys with a smile as they fought over who got to escort the two of them back to the front door. "My email address is at the bottom of the list if you need to contact me for anything." A bunch of hands shot up in the air, and she added, "Anything pertaining to the event. If you try to ask me out again, I'm just going to delete the emails."

The guys lowered their hands and mumbled goodbye as the women stepped back out onto the silent porch. "Jessica, all those boys are going to sign up for your lectures next semester. I guarantee it."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "No, they won't. If anything they'd sign up for yours!"

But she was laughing as she walked down the steps to the sidewalk, and Jessica followed behind her in her high heels. "Just wait until Jake sees the twenty one year old kids with acne trying to flirt with you. He'll get jealous and pouty, I can practically see it now."

Jessica scoffed. "No, he won't! And didn't you meet Bradley when he was twenty one years old and in a frat?"

She froze on the sidewalk as that familiar blue Bronco parked on the next block up. "I sure did. And prepare yourself. Bradley is going to be insufferable on Saturday night."

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

Jake could only really focus on Jessica. After that brief couple of minutes in her office before Luca arrived on Tuesday, he was sweating it out until he could get home and jerk off. He came all over his hands in the shower as he thought about coating up her glasses instead.

Now it was Thursday morning, and he leaned against the shower wall and thought about what kind of lingerie she might have in her closet. He hoped there was a little bit of everything. He could imagine her in something soft and white, almost ethereal. He could just as easily picture her in some leather with a riding crop. His groan filled the glass shower enclosure as he wrapped his hand around his cock again.

He realized by the time he finally started getting dressed that he was going to be late if he didn't seriously get a move on. He was just buttoning his uniform shirt when his phone lit up on his bed. Jessica had sent him an image. His fingers abandoned the buttons so quickly to grasp for his phone. And holy shit, his hot girlfriend sent him a picture of a dark purple lace bra and thong laid out on what must have been her light blue bedding.

"Fuck," he grunted as he glared down at his cock. He really didn't have time to get hard again right now. But... he was curious, so he wrote back.

You wearing that today, Jess?

She didn't respond until Jake had parked his new truck on base, but this time, she sent an up close photo of the tops of her breasts hugged by purple lace. He was practically drooling as he ran for the locker room with his bag.

Keep 'em coming, Baby.

He decided to keep his phone on him. It would be worth getting reprimanded. She sent him a handful of filthy looking photos as the day progressed, but it still wasn't enough. She must have taken a bunch of them in the morning before she left for campus, and Jake was so thankful.

He had to adjust his uniform pants several times that evening when he walked from his truck to her office. On his way into the building, he passed a delighted looking Bradshaw and his wife on their way out. She was practically hanging off of him as they walked, and Jake heard her softly ask, "Okay fuckboy, you want me to get your Beta Gamma paddle out when we get home?"

Bradley froze and met Jake's eyes as his cheeks started turning pink. "Hangman," he grunted, and his wife spun to face Jake with a coy smile.

"Hi, Jake," she sang as she reached for her husband's hand. "See you on Saturday night."

It was hard to still feel jealous of what they had when Jake knew what was waiting for him a few floors up. He took off toward the elevators, and then he walked as quickly as he physically could to Jessica's office. Two taps on her door, and she was pulling it open for him. He did the briefest glance around the room to make sure she was alone before he closed the door and backed her up against it.

"Are you trying to send me to an early grave?" he whispered, his voice sounding a little harsh as he smiled softly at her. But his smile vanished immediately when he felt her hand run slowly across his thigh before she cupped his length through his khakis.

"I just thought I'd keep you entertained while you were at work." She gave him a little squeeze, and Jake bucked against her hand. He glanced down to see that her soft sweater was the same purple color as her underwear, and she had on a little black skirt and black heels. He kissed her forehead and then her nose as he grabbed her ass with one hand and pushed her hair back behind her ear with the other.

"You kept me hard while I was at work. That's what you did, Professor Reed." Jake wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and kissed along her jaw softly. She gasped as he used his other hand to slowly bunch her skirt up until he could feel the round of her bare ass cheek in his hand.

"Jake," she whined, making it sound like three syllables instead of one as her hands slid up and around his neck. He kept his hand on her neck gentle and his kisses light as he grabbed her ass and slipped his fingers inside the back of her thong. "Jake!"

Her hands were grasping at his hair as he kissed her ear and rubbed his erection against her sweet body. "You're gorgeous. You drove me crazy all day. You know that? You did it on purpose?"

"Yes," she gasped as he sucked gently on her neck before soothing the spot with his tongue.

"Mmm," he hummed quietly as he panted. "You gonna let me see that pretty purple set?"

Her voice was an obscene whine that left him grinding against her harder as she moaned, "Yes!"

And he couldn't help himself as he pressed the softest kisses along her jaw and ear and asked, "You gonna let me fuck you hard on your desk?"

Jessica's eyes were wide, and her glasses had gone crooked on her face, but he kissed her lips after she said, "Yes." Her hand reached out to press the lock on her door, and then Jake carried her to her desk and set her on the edge. Her eyes already looked blissed out as she spread her thighs wide and hooked both of her feet around his calves, pulling him closer.

He tipped her chin up so she was looking at him, and then he took both of her soft thighs in his hands as she kept eye contact. "I'm crazy about you," he murmured as he pressed himself against her core. Then she pulled her sweater up and over her head before tossing it to the floor. Now her glasses were really crooked, and her hair was a mess as she reached for the fly of his pants. Jake was lost to the feel of her hand gripping his length as she pushed his pants down. Then she released him and leaned back on both of her palms with her lace covered tits thrust alluringly toward him.

"Fuck me," she commanded in her teaching voice. "Fuck me hard on my desk."

"Jesus Christ," he cursed, guiding his hands up her thighs, pushing the fabric up until that little skit was around her waist. When he tugged her damp thong to the side, he was treated to the sight of her wet pussy all ready to go. She ran her high heels up and down his thighs until he grabbed her behind the knees and thrust himself deep.

Jessica's jaw dropped open as Jake held her legs in his hands and fucked her hard, his thrusts relentless as she started to whine. He gritted his teeth, the obscene slapping sounds of his body meeting hers filling the room as he watched her pussy take him. Her tits were bouncing beautifully each time he filled her, and she just kept getting louder.

"Someone's gonna hear you," he warned, his voice a growl as he braced his feet a little wider apart on the floor. "Someone's gonna come knocking if you're not quieter, Jess."

She pressed her lips together and whimpered loudly in response as he continued to fuck her, rocking his hips into her body, his balls slapping her ass. Maybe he just didn't give a fuck if someone heard. Maybe Jake didn't care who knew that he was getting Jessica off on her desk right now. This was his girl, and she was a professional teaser. Even the way she was gripping him so tight with each stroke was too much. Her body was made for him, the way she responded to him like this.

"Jake," she keened, extending the syllables once more as he ran his hand down her calf and lifted her leg so he could kiss her ankle. The shift in position had her squeezing around him while she eased herself onto her back. Jake watched her lace covered tits bounce as her hands grappled for something to grab onto. She held the edge of her desk as she came undone for him. A few more sharp thrusts, and Jake pushed himself deep, filling her up with his cum. And once again, when he withdrew himself, he got to watch the mess he made drip down her ass only to collect on her thong before dripping to the desk.

When Jake looked up along her body, Jessica had herself propped up on her elbows with a serene smile and crooked glasses. He leaned down over her and kissed her. "I got a little carried away," he whispered as he ran his fingers through her hair and squeezed her thigh.

She looked impossibly sweet as he fixed her glasses, and she said, "I plan on getting carried away with you tomorrow night when you sleepover."

He devoured her mouth, but the kisses turned lazy and unhurried. Eventually Jake helped her sit up again on the edge of her desk, and he took in the sight of her rucked up skirt, purple bra and his cum between her thighs. "Let's get you cleaned up, and I'll take you to Chippy's."

"Sex on my desk and Chippy's? Today just keeps getting better," she said with a laugh as Jake grabbed some tissues from her shelf and wiped up her desk and picked up her sweater. Once she was in his arms, he pulled her shirt over her head and helped her wiggle her skirt back down.

When he zipped up his pants, he told her, "Why don't you grab a journal or two to take with us? We can read it together over some Sam Adams and peanuts."

Jessica's eyes lit up, and she actually clapped her hands. It was the cutest fucking thing he had ever seen in his life, and he watched as she clicked across her floor on her heels to the shelf. "I love that," she murmured. "Great idea, Jake."

He loved it, too. He loved everything about her. She was so smart and beautiful, but she was funny, too. She wasn't clingy, and she had a fascinating career. She didn't need him around, but she seemed to light up when he was, and that's what left Jake a little breathless as she turned and looked at him with two journals in her hand. "You ready?"

Jake kissed the slight bruise he left on her neck on the ride down the elevator. When the doors opened, Brian Conley was there arguing with a young woman, and he felt Jessica tense up in his arms. "It's okay," Jake murmured against her hair. Even though her posture remained a little rigid, she let him take her by the hand and walk out into the lobby, and Jake absorbed the glare that Brian shot their way so Jessica didn't have to.

He'd had just about enough of that asshole, and the next time he witnessed Brian being a dick or if he heard his girlfriend complain about him again, Jake was probably going to lose it. But as soon as they were inside the dive bar, Jake noticed that her shoulders seemed less tense, and she smiled as soon as Chippy waved to her.

"Hey, Reedy."

"Hi, Chippy."

He started pouring two pints as he shot Jake the look of warning that he'd become accustomed to; it was almost a part of the experience now. But the bar was absolutely packed tonight, and Jessica held his hand a little tighter as she stepped around peanut shells on the sticky floor. There was only one high top table free with only one stool at it.

Jake kissed Jessica's cheek and nudged her in that direction. "Grab the table while I get the beer and peanuts?" She took off in that direction, and Jake headed for the bar.

"So. You're here to stay then?" a disgruntled Chippy asked as he shoved a bowl of peanuts next to the pint glasses.

Jake tried to reel in his surprised laugh. "Yes, sir. I'm not going anywhere."

Chippy grunted as he took the twenty dollar bill from Jake and made change for him. He slid the bills across the bar but kept his hand on them. "If I so much as see you with another woman or see tears in that girl's eyes," he said, nodding toward Jessica, "you'll never see the inside of this bar again."

Jake waited for him to pick up his hand, and then he took all of the bills except for a few singles. "Understood." Then he could tell he'd been dismissed when Chippy started waiting on the group next to him, so he took everything back to the table where Jessica was perched on the stool.

"Literally all of the seats are being used," she told him, but Jake set everything down and then pulled her into his arms.

"Just means I get to hold you, then." He sat and then helped her onto his lap, and she settled on his thigh while he kissed her cheek and the side of her neck. "This is perfect."

Her cheeks were a little flushed, and Jake could smell himself on her as he wrapped his arm around her, letting his hand settle on her hip. This gorgeous woman was wearing panties soaked with his cum and calmly opening one of the physics journals to share an article with him. "Oh, you'll like this one," she told him, smiling over her shoulder before pointing out the title on the page. She thought he was smart, and she seemed to like having him around outside of bedroom activities, too.

"I'm sure I will," he replied, kissing her shoulder as he listened to her tell him about jet propulsion in a newly designed aircraft.

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Intelligent, self aware Jake is ruining me a little bit. Brian is a dank ass little bitch. Please send asks if you'd like to see a certain type of lingerie in her closet. Frat fundraiser is up next. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

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goodnightoilcountry · 11 days

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don't overthink when you could be loving me - sebastian aho

summary: Your inadvertent friendship with some of the Canes players was not something you advertized in your day-to-day life. But an evening of Friday night drinks changes that when you find yourself trapped in the same bar with your co-workers and one love-struck Sebastian Aho who’s determined to make it known that you’re spoken for… well, tentatively that is.

word count: 6.2k

author's note: one month in the making and i'm not even convinced that this is of any quality. but if i don't put it out now, i never will. i'm going to do another proofread but don't worry, if there are going to be any edits, it'll just be fixing up typos / grammar.

tag list: @kashee-h

You won’t lie. You weren’t always the biggest believer in keeping your personal life and work life separate.

Despite the numerous warnings about how “your colleagues are not your friends”, you couldn’t help but merge the two words into a synonymous figure. By this point in your life, you could probably ballpark that half of your closest friends were acquired from the various roles you were appointed. You’ve always felt like you’ve lucked out in that department.

The moment when your luck seemed to wear out was at your very first grad role.

With a newly minted finance degree in one hand and just about $50,000 in the other, the bar wasn’t set particularly high in terms of quality for a grad role. So when you received the congratulatory phone call from human resources, you didn’t care about the questionably low pay or how weirdly vague your interviewers were about overtime practices, you were just happy to finally have something substantial splashed across your resume.

Your first month wasn’t anything to write home about. As expected, everyone was cordial, you were given grunt work, and you would routinely eat tune rice and veg for lunch - something that was weirdly unique to the corporate world.

Where the comfort flipped was the night that the firm hosted its annual Thank You Dinner. What was announced as a company event hosted by the executives to say thank you to its employees for their efforts was actually disguised as a night of debauchery at the expense of the firm’s bottom line - but you didn’t know that yet.

So when a passing comment about the Canes turns into a full-blown conversation piece at your table, your wine-induced lips couldn’t help but let something slip.

It’s not like you ran around advertising the fact that you were family friends with Seth Jarvis growing up. But hockey culture was thriving in Raleigh and moments where a mention of the Canes wasn’t thrown into the mix rarely occurred.

More often than not, you were happy to pass on any unused tickets that Seth had reserved in your name every year. Of course, generally, nobody questions where the tickets came from the first time around - free tickets are free tickets. But by the fourth round? Who would still believe that you just accidentally purchased lower-bowl seats not knowing you already had plans?

You would eventually let up that maybe you were better acquainted with the Canes than on just a last-name and number basis. And the reactions that followed usually panned out the same way. You’d receive looks that crossed between amazement and disbelief, followed by thirty minutes of inquisitioning, and then the excitement of the news would eventually fade before moving on to something salacious that had happened earlier that week.

But the news of your affiliation that night was volatile.

Suddenly, your tickets weren’t viewed as a generous offering but rather as a right. People in different departments whom you had never met started taking you out for lunches with a casual mention of how they hadn’t ever been to a live game; your boss expected you to give them up for the sake of appeasing potential clients; girls would invite you out with the hopes of them showing up to wherever you were.

You handed in your resignation six months later.

So when you signed your letter of offer for your new role, you made a silent promise to yourself to keep that portion of your life separate. So, you distanced yourself.

Seth had noticed. He had known that you would occasionally give up your tickets when you knew you weren’t able to make a game. But as more and more weeks had passed, he had maybe seen your seats filled twice: once by a few of your closest girlfriends and the other was when your parents had come to town for a long weekend.

Outings with him and the team became infrequent as you declined to attend any sort of public event that would bear the risk of you being caught out by your new colleagues. And when you were eventually questioned why, you simply excused that your new job had you locked down.

The second person to notice your increasing absence was Sebastian.

Since Seth’s rookie days, you had been, on more than several occasions, his plus one to team events. And over the years, you had gotten to know some of the younger members who were able to keep up with Seth’s redbull-fueled energy. That included Sebastian.

The first time you had actually properly spoken to him was at a Canes charity gala. Seth and KK had been swept into a conversation by a few board members, leaving you to quietly people-watch from your assigned seat.

****

“Refill?”

You turned to find Sebastian with an arm extended out; a glass of champagne delicately sat between his fingers. You returned a grateful smile as he sat down in Seth’s seat.

“You manage to avoid the noise fest?” you lightly poked, looking over at Seth where Andrei and Jack were now caught.

He let out a laugh and shook his head while looking down, “I’ve definitely done my fair share of the sucking up.”

“You didn’t feel like joining your boyfriend?”

You choked on your drink as soon as the assumption left his mouth. You couldn’t help but begin laughing as you coughed up a response, “Oh my god, no. Seth and I grew up together back home. Our parents were close friends.”

His cheeks flushed red at the revelation.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed because you’ve come to a few of these things with him before and you’re at our games a lot,” he tried to reason as he rubbed the back of his neck to ease the embarrassment.

You shook your head with the same amused donned across your face, “he’s really never mentioned that we grew together as kids?”

“I’m sure he’s mentioned it but it’s hard to catch everything he says. He talks… a lot.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the blunt statement.

You had found it easy to talk to Sebastian. The conversation flowed seamlessly, from the standard questioning of each other’s jobs to the shared ache of missing home. Before you knew it, Seth had returned with a sheepish look on his face; apologetic for his disappearance but not missing the flash of disappointment across his teammate’s face when you said goodnight.

After that, the trajectory of your relationship with Sebastian had shifted into something more. Sure, you both became closer as friends, growing comfortable in the presence of one another. But as time went on you couldn’t help but feel like the line between you two would occasionally go hazy; blurring completely on a night out following a hard-fought win.

****

Every summer that comes around reminds you of how incomprehensible the energy can be in Raleigh.

The city came alive as holidayers passed through, the nights drew out longer, and the cool drinks were more than welcome from people who were looking to escape the heat. Which is how you found yourself sitting at a beer hall three blocks from your office in downtown Raleigh.

Unsurprisingly, the bar was packed on a Friday evening and you could only expect it to ramp up even more when your eyes fell on the sight of a band setting up stage for the night.

“Here, grab these first and I’ll bring over the rest.”

Maddy slides over 3 glasses to you and pulls out her card to start a tab for the table. You met Maddy on your first day when you were doing the round with HR. They had introduced her as your “office buddy”, to which Maddy later rolled her eyes at and reassured you that she wouldn’t be as micro-managing as they had made it out to be.

She took you to lunch and gave you her version of the onboarding special which basically involved giving you the run down of who you didn’t want to piss off if you ever wanted to be promoted.

It wasn’t long before you both became each other’s go-to person at work when things went to shit and sometimes the occasional debrief session at Thursday wines where she updated you about how her dating life was tracking.

You pull together the glasses and place them into a firm grasp between your hands before turning around to make a beeline for the table with Maddy trailing behind you. There are a few familiar faces from your team and some that you don’t think you’ve ever met before but you know that Maddy is a big fan of getting into the good graces of other departments.

Your phone screen lights up before you can even take a sip from the glass causing you to divert your attention.

Last weekend before we’re due back for pre-season training. Come out with us tonight? - Jarvy

You feel a pang of guilt with the sudden reminder that Seth just unintentionally gave you.

Your MIA-ness had begun a month before the playoffs started. Granted you still followed every game from the comfort of your home, but your continued in-person absence did not go unnoticed. Even more so after the 4-0 Conference Finals loss to the Panthers, where Sebastian wanted nothing more than to feel the comfort of your presence to ease the heartbreak.

Instead, he had to settle for an “I’m sorry.” text.

And in your defence, you had tried to see him when they returned home but the timing was never quite right as Sebastian took off for Finland a few weeks later as a last-minute guest for his cousin’s wedding.

You were able to catch Seth a handful of times before he also took flight: Winnipeg for home, Chicago for Lollapalooza, and Cabo with KK and Svech from the look of his Instagram stories.

He waved away your apologies and said he understood that you were flat out with work and that he hoped you weren’t working yourself too hard. All you could do was return a meek smile and be thankful that he didn’t press about it further.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, trying to rack your brain for an excuse that wouldn’t leave any room for further persuasion.

Sorry :( feeling too run down from the week. Next time though!

You take one more look at your phone as Seth sends you the ‘Boo, You Whore!’ gif from Mean Girls, causing you to crack a small smile.

“Better offer somewhere else?”

Your head snaps up and meets the eyes of one of the unfamiliar faces sitting across you.

“I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Charlie, I just joined the legal counsel,” he offers with a smile. And it’s a pretty damn good smile too.

You’re quickly swept up into a conversation with Charlie. You learn that he recently relocated from Boston, he has a labrador named Ollie, and that he’s heard of a fantastic restaurant down the road that he’s been “dying” to check out with someone. That last part is followed with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He’s not bad-looking, you’ll give him that much. Maybe a year ago he would have been your type. But lately, you’ve seemed to turn away from the sharp jawlines and blue eyes, and instead look for softer and warmer features with maybe a small scar carved into the bottom of their lip...

Wait, what?

You shake the thought out of your head and instead focus back on Charlie’s current story: some embarrassing run-in with your boss, on his first day.

You’re shaking from laughter at this point, “No way! Did she say anything to you later on?”

Charlie grins as he places his head in his hands, “Yeah, it was such a shame job. When I got my first official meeting with her, it was-”

You watch him trail off as his eyes dart to look at you. No, not at you. Behind you?

“Well, well, well. Feeling better, eh?”

You recognize that shit-eating tone anywhere.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath. You turn around and find Seth smirking down at you like he’s found a deer in the headlights.

“Must have been a pretty quick recovery considering you were sick only two hours ago,” he derides, sliding into the empty spot next to you. You’ve only just realized that your whole table is now empty besides you and Charlie. A quick whip around tells you that they’ve all moved to the nearby pool tables.

“Seth,” you say calmly, “what are you doing here?”

“I told you. Last weekend before practice starts.”

“Yeah, but you don’t even like it here. I’ve literally heard you call it the worst bar in the world,” you argue back.

Seth’s about to open his mouth for some quick retaliation but Charlie beats him to it.

“You’re Seth Jarvis,” he says. The look he gives is nothing short of bewilderment as he puts together that Seth Jarvis knows you.

“Hey man, how you doing? Always nice to meet a fan,” Seth nods with an outstretched hand to Charlie.

Charlie slowly shakes his hand, still reeling in from the newfound piece of information he’s just learned. “Oh, well I’m from Boston so not exactly a fan of you.”

Seriously? Who even says something like that?

You refuse to meet Seth’s side eye in an attempt to dodge the embarrassment you feel from Charlie’s unwarranted dig. He’s unsure how to respond to the hostility but the moment of awkwardness is cleared by a second voice appearing.

“Jarvy, Burnsie found a table outside - let’s go...”

Your head snaps towards the voice and you find Sebastian looking right back. He’s taken aback and stumbles on his words for a second but recomposes himself just as quickly.

“Hey, where have you b-,” he begins to step forward but falters as his eyes properly assess the scene before him. You and Charlie. Together. Alone.

“Oh. Are you in the middle of something?” he hesitates, flickering between you and Charlie; unsure of what to make of the situation.

Your eyes widen slightly before clearing your throat, “Oh, um no. This is Charlie. He recently moved to our office from Boston.”

God, you feel so small right now. Here you were, seeing Sebastian for the first time in months and you can’t even muster up the courage to properly say hello.

“Well, we’re gonna go back to our table. Find us at some point, yeah?”

Seth gives Charlie a final cautious look before he pats Sebastian on the back, guiding them both to a table on the veranda.

The rest of your group comes flooding back to the table having witnessed the sight unfold from afar. If Charlie keeps his mouth shut, surely you can play it off as a lucky fan interaction?

“Holy shit! Do you know who they were? Tell me you do because I will seriously freak if you tell me you don’t know,” Maddy furiously whispers with wide eyes.

“I don’t know, Maddy. Seemed like she’s more than well-acquainted by the look on Aho’s face,” Charlie said dryly, bringing a bottle to his lips with a raised eyebrow.

You’re a bit taken aback by his insinuation.

“Um, Seth and I grew up together back home,” you slowly let out, “it was just a coincidence that we both ended up in Raleigh.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me that you’re friends with Seth Jarvis? Are you kidding me? You’ve only heard me talk about the Canes like a thousand times,” she gapes at you with an incredulous look.

Here we go.

The rest of your group wasn’t privy to your admission, being too caught up with the sight of the team being mere yards away from them.

“Look, I don’t know. I just don’t like using his name like that. It makes me feel gross.” you sigh, rubbing your arms.

“I’d just rather we drop it. Please?”

You shoot her a look to which Maddy softens; understanding that the topic has hit a bit of a sore spot for you.

“Okay yeah, of course. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

The mass intrigue of the boys’ presence soon dies off as people slowly realize that they’re about as interesting to watch drinking as the next table is. Conversations resume back to normal and you try your best to feign interest but the knowledge that he’s the closest that you guys have been in months won’t leave you alone.

So twenty more minutes pass by and you’re ready to throw in the towel. You’ve decided that you’ll deal with the situation another day - preferably when you can string together a proper sentence. After a quick goodbye and the promise of a home-safe text to Maddy, you gather your things and start making headway for the exit.

The weakness in you can’t help but take one final look at Sebastian before you step out for the night but he’s beaten you to it. His eyes are already fixed on you with the same look you had become all too familiar with.

****

Saturday night. Seth’s Birthday. Shut-out win over Vegas. No game scheduled until Wednesday.

Individually, they’re considered lawfully good events. Combined? It’s as if someone was testing to see if Carolina even knew the definition of chaos. And when have they ever backed down from a challenge?

You let out a huff of air as you fall back into the booth. You had finally managed to escape Seth and Jesperi from the dance floor. If there was ever a case to be made about the negative long-term effects of Redbull, those two were it.

“Oh my god, how were you even out there for that long?”

Martin’s girlfriend, Nykki, opens up her arm and lets you lean in. Her leather jacket is a cool contrast to your warm and flushed body.

“Don’t let them take me again,” you whine as the ache in your feet comes flooding in. She giggles and affectionately pats your head.

Your eyes skim over the crowd, taking count of where everyone was. Brady, Kuzy and Martin by the bar. Andrei, Jack and Pyotr occupied with a group of girls. Seth and Jesperi still unabashedly dancing but now sporting a pair of shades that you had a sneaky suspicion they found on the floor. As if your eyes knew before your brain, they’re scanning the room again to find what’s missing.

“He stepped away to the bathroom.”

Your eyes tear away from the crowd and you sit yourself up, pulling the closest drink to your lips to avoid the direction Nykki is heading.

“He was watching you all night, you know? Didn’t listen to a damn thing I said,” she nudges with a knowing smirk. You didn’t think it was possible for your face to heat up anymore. Your continued silence doesn’t deter Nykki though as she decides that she will get you to admit something that you’re not even sure you’re ready to admit to yourself.

“Why are you both dancing around this? It’s obvious that he likes you. And maybe you won’t ever admit it to me but I can tell that you like him,” Nykki softens, acutely aware that Sebastian could return to the booth at any moment.

“Do you…” you hesitate, swirling the remnants of your drink in the glass. “Do you ever feel like you’re too exposed sometimes?”

She furrows her brows, “What do you mean?”

“There’s this thing that happens, and maybe it’s not often but it happens, where people expect things just because of who you know.

And if it’s true for just simply being friends with Seth, will it be worse if you’re involved with them?”

“A hockey player definitely wasn’t my first choice,” she says after a moment. “And maybe I wish I knew what it would have meant to be with him.”

“But,” she quickly recovers, watching your expression fall, “I wouldn’t change anything. It’s not about the world that he can offer me like everyone thinks it is. It’s how he always shows up for me, even when he’s 3000 miles away. It’s those private moments that are enough to make me forget the world is watching us.”

You catch the glowing adoration that’s etched into her face when she gazes across the room, watching her boyfriend laughing with Brady. You’re so wrapped up in ruminating over Nykki’s words that you almost don’t feel the way the cushion sinks next to you.

“Are you done with that?”

Sebastian’s voice grounds you back to reality. “Oh, I am but I’ll get another soon.”

Before you can stop him, he slides back out of the booth again and flags down a bartender. And Nykki doesn’t take a beat to do the same, “I think I’ll join the others,” sending you a small wink.

Sebastian slides back in setting down three glasses, two for you and one for him. “I thought you’d want some water too. Jarvy didn’t look like he was going to let you leave at any point,” he offers with a smile.

You let out a laugh and shake your head, “The trick is to run the second he turns his back. Trust me, works every time.”

“Did you have fun tonight?”

“Me? What about you? 3 assists and a goal? Surely that’s what we’re really celebrating tonight,” you whistle as you twirl the straw between your fingers.

You don’t miss the way he almost immediately shies up, turning away with the crack of a smile threatening to take over.

“I couldn’t have done it without the guys, they make all of it happen,” he notions.

You roll your eyes immediately, “I forget how well media-trained you guys are sometimes.”

“You should be able to enjoy your successes. It’s not about the other guys not being talented, it’s about being able to reflect on how far you’ve come. All of this is the culmination of your dedication, Sebastian. It’s important to remember that.”

The silence he returns suddenly fills you with regret. Did you say too much? Was it even your place to say anything at all? You need to backpeddle.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -” you sigh, pushing away your drink.

“No,” he quickly cuts, “I guess I’ve just never thought about it like that. But it does feel good to hear it.”

“I like having you at our games” he smiles. “You know you’re part of my warm-up routine?”

“I am?”

“Yeah, I play this little game where I try to spell people’s names as fast as I can with the puck. I tried yours once and we won, so I did it the next night and we won again. Now I do it every game to put a little luck into the ice.”

Fuck. His confession renders you speechless. If there were any more doubts about your feelings for Sebastian, they were well and truly effaced now. And suddenly you gain a partial understanding of what Nykki meant. For every game, whether you’re there or not, Sebastian carves a part of you into it.

You swallow, giving yourself a moment to recollect. “I didn’t think that I was such a game changer,” you softly let out.

You’re not exactly sure when or how it happened but you notice the proximity between you two has significantly lessened. And the arm he has strewn behind you on the top cap suddenly feels misplaced - like they would feel more at home around you.

And for a brief moment - between the silence you’re both too afraid to break - his eyes break away from yours and flick towards your lips.

He inches closer, “You are… everything.”

Your breath hitches. Before you can even stop yourself, your hand rests against his neck, gently pulling him in and Sebastian is more than willing to follow. This is it.

“Guys! KK said his friend can get us into this new club!”

Your eyes close shut and your hand drops down Sebastian. An agitated sigh leaves him as he reluctantly pulls back. You both look at each other, still caught in the moment that’s now fleed at the sound of Seth’s voice.

Seth shakes Sebastian, forcing him to break away from your gaze.

“Did you hear me? KK’s calling us an Uber,” Seth bounces. Not a beat later, Nykki appears and attempts to forcefully pull him away. But it’s Seth. And of course, rightfully so, he wants two of his best friends to come with.

You quickly down the rest of your drink and step out of the booth, not wanting to bask in the awkwardness any longer. As you step outside, the chill of the wind grounds you back into reality, and you instinctively wrap your hands around your arms. In the peripheral of your vision, you see Nykki rush towards you.

“I’m so sorry. I tried to grab onto him but he just moved so quickly.”

You return a small smile, “It’s fine. Really.”

You link arms with her and she guides you to the Uber that Martin is standing by with the door open. As Nykki climbs in, you turn your head and find Sebastian watching.

He almost looks hopeful that you’ll follow him. That you’ll both leave the mess of the group behind and find solitude someplace else.

But you don’t.

Instead, you give a small shake of your head and follow Nykki, with Martin firmly closing the door behind you.

****

In the years you’ve watched Seth play in Raleigh, you’ve never once seen a game from the suite before.

But the Monday morning after your run-in with the group, you find yourself opening a calendar invite from your boss to the first home game of the season with a few key clients. So now, you’re perched by the glass, watching the spotlights dancing around the ice and the crowds of people getting settled in for the night.

“You know we’re meant to be chatting up the clients, right?”

Of course, Charlie managed to be invited too.

“I still haven’t been able to swing by that new restaurant I was telling you about. Could be fun to check it out afterwards,” he says, looking out towards the rink.

“Thanks, Charlie but I think I’m just going to head home the game’s done,” you respond dryly.

He cocks his head with a raised brow, “You know they organized a meet and greet after the game right? The whole reason why we’re here is because the CEO’s son is a huge fan.”

You don’t love the way your body freezes up at the newly shared information. You appreciated that your friendship with the team hadn’t made it past Maddy and Charlie’s lips, but you weren’t confident that would stay the same after tonight. And that’s the only thing that runs through your mind through all three periods. You can barely converse with the clients as you’re half-distracted by the get-away plan that you’re attempting to draw out in your mind, and it leaves your boss shooting you looks of “get your shit together”.

The horn sounds off as soon as the clock hits zero. It’s evident that you’re not getting out of this and the only prayer you have left is that the players who join you are the younger rookies who have little to no idea who you are. But you know the chances of that are slim to none.

You try to push away the anxiousness by listening to a conversation between your boss, Charlie, and the client.

“All I’m saying is that the reason Boston didn’t make it past the first round was because of how shit some of the calls were against them,” Charlie rambles, oblivious to the unimpressed faces.

The door of the suite swings open and you find Jordan, Brady, and Sebastian filing in. They’ve all clearly come straight from the showers, still dripping droplets of water from their hair onto the floor. They make their way around the room and shake everyone’s hands, thanking them for their support. Brady is the first to spot you as he gives you a surprised look followed by a welcoming smile. But he reads the panic in your eyes and - being classically perceptive - nods in understanding.

It doesn’t take another second to pass for Sebastian to register your appearance and amongst the earlier crowding, you’re only now able to fully take in the way he’s dressed. His compression shirt sculpts against him, with the soft lines of his muscles pressing against the fabric. Shorts barely hanging loose against his thighs. A backwards cap sported to tie it all off. It’s enough to make you want to break your silent promise.

Your eyes can’t help but fixate on him the entire time they circulate with everyone in the room. And while Sebastian tries his damn hardest to remain polite and focus on the conversation at hand, he can’t help but flicker his eyes towards you, making sure you won’t disappear on him again.

“Thank you so much for your time. We won’t keep you guys any longer, but best of luck with the season ahead. Bring one home for us, hey?” your boss beams. Everyone else has headed home, leaving just you and Charlie waiting for your boss to let you go.

“Goodnight guys. I’ll see you Monday.”

And with that, it’s just the five of you left in the suite with a few people on the Hurricanes team off to the side.

“Well, we better get going if we want to make it to that restaurant,” Charlie says turning towards you.

Sebastian tenses at this and you see the way Jordan and Brady shoot each other a look.

“I said I’m going home, Charlie.” You’re shutting this down.

“I’ll give you a lift then,” he presses.

Before you can open your mouth to counteract, Sebastian interjects, “You’re not far off from my place, I’ll take you.”

“Yes, please!”

You’d be embarrassed with how quick you are to jump at his offer if it weren’t for the fact that you so desperately wanted to avoid being confined in a car with Charlie.

“Thanks bro, but we’ve got it from here.”

“Actually, I don’t think you do, bro.”

Charlie looks between you two. Growing annoyed at the situation, he grabs his coat and retreats out of the suit. “Whatever. See you Monday.”

A sigh leaves your lips and you don’t realize how taut your body is until it eases under the feeling of Sebastian's hand on your shoulder.

“You guys all good if we take off?” Brady asks, expectedly. Sebastian nods and you all bid goodnight.

“I just have to grab my things but if you’re tired I can just come back for them tomorrow,” he offers, as Brady and Jordan make their way out.

You shake your head, “I can hold on, you’re doing me the favour.”

It doesn’t take long to get back to the locker room, and you can’t help but think about how good he looks when he emerges with his hockey bag hung over one shoulder and a garment bag thrown over the other.

As you lean against the passenger door, waiting for him to throw his things into the boot, you can’t help but start to grow nervous at the realisation that Sebastian may want to talk about that night. But your nervousness is cut short by Sebastian moving in front of you with a small disc in his hand.

A puck.

He looks down at it, fiddling with it between his hands, “It’s from the warm-up. I thought you might like it.”

It’s the puck.

Your mouth falls open slightly, as you gingerly take it, as if you’re afraid it’ll break if you handle it too hard.

“I can’t believe you still do that,” you breathe, turning it over, feeling the ridges where the ice has chipped the edges.

“Of course I do. It changes the game.”

Your eyes dart up at his choice of words - he remembers.

“Why did you stop seeing us?” he puts forward.

You sigh and lean back against the car, turning your head away.

“Was it because of that night at Jarvy’s birthday? Did you not want to…” he trails off. Even he’s not sure what that night was meant to be.

“This world that you’re in Sebastian, I just don’t know if it’s for me.”

“I know that we’re away a lot but I-”

“It’s not that,” you quickly cut off. He returns a confused look and you know, as his eyes search you for an answer, that you owe him this explanation.

“Before you came back to the table, I was talking to Nykki about how difficult it can get to be involved with a hockey player.”

“But you’re already involved with us? You were friends with Seth already” he presses.

“And look where it got me last time. I was forced to leave a job after six months because all anyone cared about was being closer to the Canes than me,” you lamented.

“I just don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling like I’m second to the person I’m with; I want to feel equal to them. I want to know who is genuinely trying to be my friend. I want to exist outside of my relationship. I don’t want to have to hide in public because I’m scared to run into people from work.”

You close your eyes, feeling exhausted by the flood of words leaving your mouth, and you half-expect Sebastian to get into his car and drive off.

“I didn’t know.”

You nod in understanding. How could you expect him to know?

“I would never put you in a position where you wouldn’t feel safe,” he says softly.

“But if that’s what you really want, we can move on from everything. But I need you to know how I feel first.” His hand wraps around the side of your jaw and pulls your gaze towards him.

“I wanted to know you the moment Seth pointed you out our game for the first time. And then we spoke at the charity gala and I only wanted to know you even more. And then you were around us more, and I got to know you beyond just being Seth’s friend. And what I know I know is that you’re smarter than you let on but you’re still kind. You’ve remained so grounded that you see me as more than just this job. You make me think more deeply than I ever have with anyone else and I don’t want to go back to a life before I had that.”

You don’t know whether to cry or charge forward. Because after the endless rounds of almosts and what-ifs, you’ve finally caught each other. And the confessions that pour from his mouth left you knowing one thing for certain: you had both waited long enough.

And for the second time, you bring his neck down and finally close the gap between the two of you. Sebastian presses you against the car with his hand wrapping up to rest on the back of your neck, his lips deepening against yours. You never doubted it but his arms feel secure around you, afraid to let go and let the moment be over.

But you pull away just long enough to let out a murmur, “Take me home, Sebastian”

****

Six gruelling months pass by and you find yourself at a potential playoff-clinching game with your colleagues.

Granted your relationship with Sebastian was still very much under wraps, but you had learned to navigate your feelings of discomfort towards the publicity of his job. Sebastian had accommodated your cautiousness. Careful to never spend too long in your section during a pre-game warm up. Made sure to drive around the quiet side of the arena to pick you up afterwards. He had never pushed you to do more than you needed to.

But even though he’d never tell you, you know he’s quietly envious of the way the guys can openly skate with their partner at family skates. Or how they can sit and openly touch at company events. He had afforded you comfort at the expense of his wants. You wanted him to have more than this. And more importantly, you wanted to show him that you wanted more.

So when the buzzer sounds off and the Canes skate away with another return to the Stanely Cup Playoffs, you can’t help but let go of the discontentment you have about being found out. So before you even know it, you find yourself moving towards the ice where Sebastian is wrapping up his post-game interview, ignoring the calls of Maddy asking where you’re going.

And when you reach the board that separates you and your boyfriend, he doesn’t hesitate to skate over, collecting a puck from the equipment manager on the way.

“Always nice to meet a fan,” he winks, offering his pre-game puck.

You grin, pulling him forward by his jersey, “I appreciate it but I’ve gotta tell you that I’ve got a boyfriend.”

His eyes melt at the sound of your public announcement and he catches your lips against his, “I love you so damn much.”

#jo writes #nhl fic #nhl imagine #sebastian aho fic #sebastian aho imagine #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes imagine #sebastian aho x reader #nhl writing #sebastian aho fanfiction #sebastian aho fics #sebastian aho imagines #nhl fics #nhl imagines

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uc1wa · 9 months

Text

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, frats, alcohol

songs i think r cute w this: champagne coast, les, no. 1 party anthem

rush, bidding, and pledging have finished! you know what that means, it’s formal season!

dick grayson was a proud brother of his fraternity, repping his greek letters in either crewneck or t-shirt form at least once a week. he held a position, so of course he advertised the brotherhood he was apart of. his free mornings, afternoons, and nights were consumed by volunteer work or party planning, as any good brothers would be.

and how lucky are you to be in a 9am class with the man? it wasn’t a secret that he liked you. during syllabus week, he made effortless small talk, learning your name, major, and clubs you were apart of.

dick forgot a pencil? well there’s only one person he’d care to ask to borrow one from, and it was you who sat right beside him. needed somebody to review your paper for the class? dick was already offering you his email for you to send it.

study sessions went by, grabbing breakfast after class together, and finally he was planning his first formal of the year with his brothers.

"i don’t know if you’ve ever been to one, but would you wanna be my plus one to my formal?" he asked you as he took a bite from his breakfast sandwich after class, sitting across from you at the table in your student union.

no, you’ve never been to a formal, but you knew what they were. frats renting out a bar or taking a weekend trip out of your campus city, dressing up, having dinner, dancing. it was clubbing but formal and an invite only event.

"are you asking me out on a date via your frat, dick?" you ask your friend and classmate, and he grins. "would there be a problem in that?" your head shakes and now you’re mirroring his smile.

the man gave you the details. since rush just finished, this was the lower key one, one that takes place in town rather than the one that’s held in spring in which their frat takes them to a beach a few hours away. it was at a higher end bar that was going to be rented out by them for the night and occupied by brothers and their dates.

you recognized a few of the faces of dick’s friends when you walked in, having classes with some and being in clubs with others as he dapped them all up when he walked in, hand in hand with you.

"i didn’t know you were all cooped up, grayson," a senior says to the man who has a smug smile on his lips and a shrug of his shoulders. "first date..?" dick says, and it sounds more like a question that makes you laugh.

"one hell of a place for a first date," another one of his friends says and he rolls his eyes, continuing to make his way into the bar that’s more crowded than you expected.

while brothers weren’t supposed to have alcohol at their events, it’s not like anybody was posting about the bottles of svedka their president brought in and was pouring with his back to the bartenders, offering to you and dick once he saw the two of you.

dick looks at you, to which you reply with an approving nod and take a shot with his hand still holding yours. some introductions are given to you before you both are sitting at a high top, smiling at each other stupidly.

"forgot to tell you how pretty you looked tonight," he smiles at you, looking from your heels up to your hair that was pinned back. "had to dress for the occasion," you smile before motioning to him, "i didn’t realize you could clean up this well. i’m used to hoodies and sweatshorts," and he laughs.

for a frat event, the evening went smooth and comfortably. slowly getting a bit more buzzed, you and dick went from dancing to making small talk to dancing again.

dick’s surprised himself. never did he think he’d have a crush on somebody, but he sure was slowly falling for you. the way you were getting along with all of his friends, how pretty you got for his event, and the feeling of your skin on his when holding hands and dancing.

"have any plans after this?" he says in your ear, one hand on your hip and the other holding the skin of your exposed back, moving his body against yours.

and you have to laugh at that, knowing exactly where this was leading, "yeah, told my friend i’d go to his after," you say with a smirk, tilting your head with a hand on the side of dick’s neck.

now dick hasn’t kissed you yet, after all, this was sort of your first date. but he can’t help but lean in real close, his lips feathering yours to say, "yeah? want me to drive you to his house for you, pretty girl?"

pda isn’t exactly favored at frat events, but a little kiss won’t hurt.

so, you break the space between the two of you, and dick is eager to pull you closer, tongue swiping your bottom lip until he’s pulling back with a devious smirk.

the taste of each other made you both hungry for more. you wished you could’ve held out until you were back at dick’s place, maybe to have a more romantic first time with him. but, you were thinking with your pussy and dick was thinking with his dick, and the bathroom was actually really nice, and dick was pressing you against a wall that was a full length mirror, his lips biting your shoulder and his hands fumbling to pull your dress around your waist… so what could you do?

"wanted to take this off of you as soon as i saw you," he says breathlessly, your small moans filling the small space as he continues nibbling against your skin. his lips are soft and hot against you, some of your lip gloss that were remnants on his lips now being put back onto you.

once your dress is bunched up, dick’s swiping your panties to the side and slipping two digits into your entrance, pulling his head back from your skin to gauge your reaction. and when your neck is tilted back and you’re moaning his name, he’s smiling while his chest is heaving. "yeah? you like that baby?"

"mhm," you moan, your grip loosening on him as your body is falling into a sweet bliss that only dick grayson could put you into.

hell, he wishes he could’ve fucked you in a place that wasn’t some bar at his shitty frat’s formal, but he promises he’ll make up for it later. promises he’ll take you on an actual date and take you back to his place to have a slower and sweeter pace. but for now, he doesn’t see you protesting and can tell you want this just as bad as he does.

his free hand is fumbling with his belt, and the sound of metal clinking brings you back to reality and how unfair it is that dick’s fully clothed. "please," you whine, your hands pushing his blazer off while he shrugs his should, his finger slipping out of you.

dick pauses, his fingers moving towards his own lips and he’s quick to suck on them without any hesitation. "jesus," is all you can mutter out, watching the way he’s sucking everything you currently gave him like he won’t get another taste.

"you know i’m gonna treat you right, pretty girl," he says as he sees your reaction, smile tugging his lips while his shoulder shrugs his blazer off, hands undoing his belt. your eyes meet his, "wouldn’t be here if i didn’t have expectations," you reply back, catching you breath and leaning back on the mirror behind you that’s growing an inappropriate amount of smudges.

his hands are tugging his belt off, setting it beside his blazers and the growing collection of clothes sitting on the sink. your hands are slipping the straps of your dress off, revealing your bra which is next to follow dick’s clothes.

blue eyes are taking in your figure. taking in the parts of you he’s never seen before while he’s dropping his pants around his ankles. "prettiest fucking girl," he whispers making you grin.

your hands find their way to the buttons on dick’s steamed white top, unbuttoning them while his eyes continue eating you alive. "patience," you breathe, unbuttoning him deviously slow.

dick groans playfully, a short laugh following it until his chest and abdomen are showing. now it was your time to take him in. his pecs were whorishly defined, the muscles making the muscles plump. your eyes continue traveling down, his abdomen following down to his waist that is tiny and helps to define his muscles.

"i’m all yours," he reminds, genuinely meaning it in comparison to the times he’s said it to his previous one night stands.

he’s quick to have his hands on you again, the same way that you are as his lips bring you two back together. the kidding is feverish—like this is the last time the two of you will ever kiss. teeth coaching and biting each others lips, tongues sucking one another’s.

a big hand grips your waist, turning you so that your chest and breasts are pushed against the mirror, and your backside is pressed against dick’s. his boxer clad member pressing against your clothed backside making both of you groan.

"you okay?" he asks, finger pulling your underwear down your legs, followed by him taking a step back and pulling his boxers down, hand still holding your hip.

once again, you moan, "mhm," and he’s coming close again, lining his member up with your slicked entrance that’s drooling for him.

his first moments are slow, allowing you to get adjusted to his size and the feeling of him buried deep inside you.

"fuck, you feel fuckin’ perfect around me, y’know that, baby?" he’s muttering to himself, beginning to speed up. the hand that’s holding your waist goes to the middle of your back, pressing down so that your arching all pretty for him, his other hand moving to the back of your neck, pushing you against the mirror while holding you in place.

the rough pace isn’t allowing you to think straight, but all dick can do is groan and lean into your ear, body on top of yours as he’s whispering the dirtiest things to you.

"pussy was made for me, pretty baby. filling you up perfect," he’s groaning, lips moving to bite your ear harshly which lets a chorus of high pitched moms escape your throat, eyes closing from the ecstasy that is dick continuously touching your sweet spot.

the steam from your breath was fogging up the mirror and dick’s thrusts felt like they were shaking the entire room you both were in. neither of you caring how loud you were because the music and chatter outside the bathroom was even louder.

it’s only a few minutes later that dick’s asking, "where d’ya want me baby?" the knot forming in both of your lower stomachs synced up to a tee.

"mmm," you moan, biting your own lip, one hand holding yourself up against the mirror and the other reaching behind you to claw at whatever ounce of skin you can get of dick’s. "inside, inside," you rush to say, and he’s following your request as soon as you utter the words, warmth filling you on top of dick resting his sweaty and hot body against your back.

you can only whimper at the feeling of his arms wrapping around you and him still keeping his place from inside of you, his warmth beginning to leak out of you as he pulls out.

there’s a minute of recovery, quick breaths making both of your chests rise and fall with a quickness.

"meant what i said," dick says, attempting to wipe himself off with the tissue in the bathroom, throwing it away and grabbing some to softly wipe between your legs, illiciting a whine from your lips. "remind me what you said."

he chuckles, his hands slowly wiping the inside of your thighs and the outside of your entrance. "about me thinking you’re, like, the perfect girl," you honestly don’t remember him saying that, but once he’s finished, you turn around with a grin.

"uh huh," you tease, fixing your bra straps and dress straps to fit on your shoulders correctly. your eyes watch as dick bends down, pulling your underwear back up to your hips comfortably and pulling your dress back down, smoothing it out with a wide smile. "i’ll take you on a real date, i promise," he assures, pulling his boxers and pants up in one go.

you help to button his shirt back up, the white tip filled with wrinkles that tell an embarrassing story. "i’ll have to check my schedule," you smile smugly, leaning back once he’s slipping his blazer back on, his hand pulling your hips so that you’re side by side, looking into the mirror.

"i’ll make sure it’s cleared," he winks in the mirror to you, "we clean up nice." and though both of your hair is disheveled and some of dick’s is sticking to his forehead, wrinkles are on both of your attires, and the mirror has a disgusting amount of smudges from you both, you walk out of the party with confidence that only two college students would have, and are making your place back to dick’s apartment for your first night together.

this is my formal apology for asshole one night stand frat boy dick

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing smut #nightwing

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prototypelq · 4 months

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Today, is the first day in 23 months when I finally heard some good news from within russia, about politics no less.

As you probably haven't heard, because this theme is being agressively ignored by all possible media, 15-17 march is the date of next presidential election in russia. If you have laughed after reading this statement, then congratulations, you pretty much know everything about it, hence why no media coverage. But there should be.

Ekaterina Shulman, who has a PhD in political sciences, who has been one of the most enlightening sources on all matters russian-politics and autocrasy-related, has been handedly calling the oncoming election an 'electoral event', meaning the current system will not allow any real election to take place (and it never really did), but will instead make an illusion of the 'winner' being fair.

(btw 'election' advertisements and notices have been going under the banner of the letter V, which you can consider fair since 'election' is 'выборы' in russian, so using the same letter makes sense, but we all know who this big letter references, don't we, same way as all the militarist zealots are uniting under letter Z)

Yesterday, she held a stream with Boris Nadezhdin, who is currently running for presidential candidate by trying to gather citizen votes.

The reason you should care about this, is that Nadezhdin is the only candidate, who is openly critical of Putin,

he has been the public voice of opposition for the russian autocracy for more than 20 years,

the stream he held with Ekaterina could be considered an extremely risky move, enough to send him to jail for this move alone, since she has been declared a foreign agent for a long time (current brand of quality for russians),

he has opened up multiple vote booths across the world, so that political refugees (which is exactly what all the russians abroad are) could safely vote, as the government has already considered denying them their constitutional right to do so,

and he has presented the plan for his presidential reign, starting with: releasing all the political prisoners and immediately starting peace talks with Ukraine.

If you think that those are just empty words, well, they might be, though I can only pity the person who would dedicate more than 20 years of their life on empty promises, especially ones that can easily get you imprisoned for life or killed. I am not joking.

The reason there is 'unanimous agreement' of russians and the media of russians regarding the Invasion of Ukraine and other political topics, is that the political filed in this forsaken country has been carefully curated and all unsactioned-by-Kremlin opposition immediately eliminated for longer than I have been alive.

I live with the weight of just living my life in this country being a daily contributor to committing war crimes in Ukraine, and inside Russia. The reason I'm writing this in english on tumblr, which, hey, lgbt is considered extremist propaganda and will get you in jail, and tumblr even markets itself as the most lgbt-friendly social site, is that there is no way to talk about this in russia. And each time, I browse the politics or russia tags here I see the same zealous aggression which russians are called terrorists for, directed back at all russians. I took it for a long time, because there was no way to dispute this claim, I felt and continue to feel shame for this forsaken country or being related to it, and because every day this country exists ukrainian and russian people are forced into the meatgrinder.

No more. or well, no more feeling shame over it, the guilt will remain long after even the end of the Invasion.

Boris Nadezhdin's (btw his surname almost literally translates to Hopeful) electoral booths have been having full rows of people wishing to sign a petition to make him electable for presidential run. People in Siberia stood in line in -40 C (granted, normal siberian weather, but still, you wouldn't want to be out and about for too long in that kind of cold, even when accustomed to it) to sign a petition for him. At the moment of writing he has reached around 70k, out of 100k needed to be legally allowed to petition for presidential run (sidenote: that number is astronomically high for a number of reasons, so him getting that close is a big win too)

youtube

(this video covers the current news of Nadezhdin's campaign pretty well, it also has hand-done english subs)

So yes. You're not allowed to call all russians terrorists any longer, untill they are proven Zealots. There are literally thousands of russian people voting against Putin's reign, they are donating money to this campaign to help it grow too.

In a country, which has never really been a free space to be able to discuss politics, much less actively participate in them or have an informed opinion on them, and which has spent decades curating political apathy in it's people, these events are WILD.

Granted, the possibility of Nadezhdin being allowed to actually run for president is astronomically small, the country is still an autocrasy. Still, participation this high is anything-politics related is phenominal, and I wish to celebrate that, whatever may come in the future.

Here are some additional russian sources available to english-speakers to learn more:

The Russian State of Mind, a brilliant lecture by Ekaterina Shulman, PhD in political science, updated with data from october 2023

Maxim Katz channel, he covers politics and subtitles his videos by hand in english, I've linked another video of his above

Meduza newsletter has an english department

Tamara Eidelman covers history, mythology and related topics, her lectures are fascinating to listen to and have english voiceover

Yuri Dud does interviews with english subs

Any content creator with the (obligatory) foreign agent (иностранный агент) warning is good to listen to. This means the author said something not to the current governmen'ts liking, or not Enough liking of russian system, so good for them for having an actual opinion.

#first voting in my life and this is the stakes im working with yaaaay #i get why people are calling russians terrorists but i am so tired of it #now i have literal prove it's not true and you should take a closer look at the facts #the problem with politics is that they are just too complicated for any ordinary person to make sense of #but when the question is 'do you support killing people' there is only one answer #russian invasion of ukraine #russia #ukraine #russia is a terrorist state #i hope one day that tag changes to putin is a terrorist state #putin #he is a definitive war criminal and must be judged in world court #Youtube

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wingedcat13 · 2 years

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Synovus: Villains Never Retire

[As requested, an addition to the first story about Synovus and Menace - this is a followup that should be readable on it's own, but you can check out the first installment (and next) here! If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, you can also check out this story there. This installment was inspired by the prompt: "You’re a retired villain. You’ve been enjoying your peaceful life, but now a bunch of new villains are terrorizing your land, and the heroes seem powerless against them. So you take up the mantle once again. After all, if you want someone properly killed, do it yourself." Due to length, this one has been cut into two three parts. This portion alone is about even with the first installation, so it's still chunky.]

There are sirens wailing, somewhere. The few who have not been cut off already, cut silent as the screams of the living have been, one by one and in waves. The hush that should follow is denied by the high pitched whining of machinery and the sound of burning things. There are sparks, and pops. Something like words worn smooth in the background, run over so many times that they're part of these floorboards that are now cracking and failing, released again at the moment of unmaking.

You focus on the sounds, because you cannot see the devastation. You focus on the sounds, because you cannot smell the burning. You focus on the sounds, because if something does not force you to confront it, you do not know how fast or far away you would be running.

You are 90% sure this is not what was advertised, when you first said you were planning on retiring.

---

You honestly hadn't been sure whether your quasi-apprentice would be disappointed or thrilled that you were stepping back from the Villain scene.

On the one hand, Menace had only just made her debut as your shadow. Some of the jokes suggested that was literal, given your abilities and the equally dark all-covering clothing you both wore. (Hers was probably more fashionable, but yours had a cape.)

Anyway, the point was, you'd only taken her to a few meetings and negotiations with other villains so far.

But on the other hand, when not under her (custom designed and hand made, thank you) helmet, Alexandria was still a hero's daughter. Just the one, these days, since Legionnaire had disappeared from the super-map, and admittedly you and Athena had a weird ceasefire agreement ever since you'd more or less adopted her daughter, but you'd gone 'round the carousel of morality too many times to expect either of them to suddenly become accepting of things like mass casualty events.

So you hadn't done any for a while. And you'd realized that it was... kind of nice?

"It's up to you, boss." Oflok (Our Fair Lady Of the Kitchen) had told you, shrugging as she cooked a single serving's worth of rice for you at three in the morning.

"I had been thinking about asking for a vacation." Doll had admitted, even as the two of you scraped barnacles off the underwater docking bay doors.

"So long as you don't kick me out!" Rosie had laughed, as though you could afford to lose your head gardener and only source of self-sustained food supply in the event of an apocalypse.

You wound up telling Alexandria while she was in the middle of some exercises you'd designed for her - which is why you weren't surprised when a heavy weight clattered to the floor from an unreasonable height.

"Wait, what?" She demanded, floating approximately three times her height off the floor.

You looked up from your Rubik's cube, half-solved. "Retirement." You said casually, letting your helmet handle keeping the thread of unease private. Flight and super strength were recent arrivals, but super hearing hadn't made an appearance in Alexandria's arsenal. Yet.

"Can you even do that?" Alexandria asked, floating down a little to hover closer to eye level with you. Given you were propped at the top of a climbing wall, that still left her airborne.

You nodded your approval at her increasing level of control, and held up a hand, flat with the palm down, to wiggle as answer to the question. "Sort of. We do communicate, even if we don't have an overarching governance. Retiring is just... putting up a 'do not disturb' sign. Setting your status to offline forever."

The past few months had been a constant education in villain politics and etiquette - namely, the lack of organization in either - so your student caught on pretty quick.

"So.. you get a free pass to attack anyone who shows up, and they know they can come talk to you or ask you for things at their own risk?"

"Correct." You spun the cube, promptly undoing all of your progress. "So long as no one asks me for another fucking submarine, I'll probably let them visit."

A grin showed that Alexandria remembered her field debut very well. After the debacle with a fire-villain named Igneous (he ordered a submarine from you, then tried to kill you, and wound up dead instead) there'd been a mini-bidding war over who would actually buy the damn thing. Igneous's official rival, another villain named Heathen, had tried to demand it for free as 'retribution' for your unsanctioned murder of Igneous.

So, once Alexandria's super strength had manifested, you'd had an idea.

Heathen had his submarine. It was just lodged on top of his mountain fortress, where it would be just as useful to him as it had been to Igneous.

Idiot.

"It could be cool." Alexandria shrugged, "You do you. Whatever you want."

You had nodded solemnly, as though those words were sacred. And then you'd left, to deliver your retirement notices by hand to the villains that mattered.

The rest could read it on your Twitter feed like any other civilian.

---

"You retired?" The skeptical question, half a demand, came from Athena when she landed on your balcony, having launched herself out of the ocean. "Via Twitter?"

You thought that the arc of water she made when she did that was very pretty, and so you made sure to be there every time she came to visit. You pretended it was because you are protective of your island. Anyone who pointed out those things are not mutually exclusive would've just gotten ignored.

"Shockingly, there was no pension plan." You shook your head in mock disappointment. "I might have to go rummaging through my old friends' accounts."

Athena gave a pointed glance at the rest of your private island, then sighed. "If you find a spare retirement package while you're... rummaging." She said dryly, "Toss it over to our side of the fence, would you?"

At first, you had cackled. Then you'd noticed the tightness around her mouth, and checked to see how far off Alexandria was. Still missing - you were fairly sure she was still talking to Rosie about some flower she wanted to try and grow.

And yes, you and Athena had tried to kill each other before this weird co-parenting schtick. But she'd come to you, since Alexandria had started living here. Quietly, to ask what signs she had missed, and how to do better.

You still didn't like each other, but you did respect that.

So you'd sighed, and leaned against the railing. "I did send off that last work crew." You'd said idly. "So I suppose we are currently below capacity."

Athena raised a brow at you - at least, you were pretty sure, hard to tell with her mask covering everything from her cheekbones up - and gave you a wary look. "Is something wrong with Alexandria?"

Once, there'd been a hitch between the syllables of that name. Now, it was fluid. Habitual. You felt a funny warm feeling at that and promptly ignored it.

"She's a transgender teenager with superpowers." You said instead, flicking your hands for emphasis. "What the hell does that have to do with anything."

Athena exhaled, and lifted a hand in a silent half-apology. "I just assumed - if you were inviting me to live here, perhaps it was because..."

She fell silent, staring longingly through the glass doors into what is alternatively called 'the brunch room' and 'the dungeon' depending on who you ask. You've never actually kept captives there, but your minions like to play different board games. The name is supposed to be related.

One of the board games must have been left out, because Athena's gaze found it, and softened. "Really?" She asked you, amused. "Monopoly?"

You realized, belatedly, that Athena had probably wanted to know if Alexandria missed her.

"Obviously." You snarked in return, lifting your chin. "It instills anti-capitalist values, destroys friendships, and encourages subterfuge and cheating. Clearly the best game for a villain to play."

"Retired." Athena corrected you.

"Yeah." You sighed again. "Retired villain."

---

You'd insisted that Alexandria still spend some time on the mainland. She didn't have many friends, but you knew what life was like when you were cooped up somewhere, regardless of how high speed the internet connection was or how good the private Oflok.

Sometimes, you'd even gone with her. In your civilian guise, of course. At least, one of them.

"That's - wow." She'd said, when you came out of the changing area of the 'lair' you kept on the mainland.

(You refused to call it a closet. There were too many closet jokes in your past, present, or future for you to willing walk into any of them. Or out of them. Damn it.)

You'd shrugged, looking down, and twirled as though that would have much of an effect in what was effectively nondescript clothing. Pants. A shirt. Blazer. Scarf. Hair actually brushed instead of in whatever shape it had gotten half-stuck in while in your helmet.

"No, really, you - I don't know how you go from... from that to just. A normal person." Alexandria had studied you as though she were taking notes. It made you vaguely uncomfortable.

"I'm always a person." You'd corrected her. "And never 'normal,' so your analysis is flawed. Also, today I am Henry."

"Alright Henry." Alexandria had laughed, recognizing the name as one of the main characters in the last movie you'd been to see together - and this, too, had easily become a ritual, since you have only ever been Synovus. "Let's go see another shitty movie."

Later, she'd suggested that, for her birthday, you should go out to eat on the mainland. Maybe she could invite a guest?

Intrigued, you had agreed.

---

The guest turned out to be Athena.

Of course, neither of you were aware of that until you met up outside the restaurant. You'd pestered Alexandria about her 'friend' in all the ways you knew to be good-naturedly teasing, and she'd continued to play coy in a way that made you hope she was growing more confident. For all you knew, Athena had done the same.

But, staring at each other between some freshly-misted hedges, you had found you weren't sure why you were balking.

Neither of you were in costume. She was in a nice, simple sheath dress with light adornment. Her hair was loose - and even, which meant it had finally grown back out after you'd given her an unasked-for haircut a while back. You were pretty sure those sandals were the same as the ones she wore while fighting though.

"Even here." Athena had muttered, staring at you, "You have to have a cape."

You'd put your nose up on reflex, half curtseying, half bowing to her in your own dress for the evening. It had a capelet you'd liked the feel of, and if its dark material reminded her of your costume, well. So be it.

"All the better to sweep your daughter away in." You'd said with a smile that showed your teeth, lifting the loose cloth as though to hide your face, Dracula-style.

"Oh look." Alexandria said, holding up the reservation box. "It's vibrating. I think that means our table is ready."

You had picked your way through an appetizer that was awkwardly shared. If there was a possibility you and Athena would reach for the same portion, you both refused to even attempt it. Alexandria, at least, had no such compunctions, and devoured anything you two didn't lay claim to fast enough.

"So...." Athena had eventually offered, as a lead-in that immediately died. She frowned at you. "I don't know what to call you."

A number of responses had come to mind. Most were not appropriate for the setting, including your actual name. "Sy-bil." You picked at random. "Or just Sy, or Syn."

"I am not calling you Sin." Athena had said flatly, as Alexandria choked and coughed. "Sybil will work. And..." She hesitated, twirling her fork idly in her salad, "Shall I take that to mean I should use the... feminine forms of address for the evening?"

You wanted to respond flippantly, you really did. But Alexandria was beaming. "That would be appropriate." You said diplomatically. "And in return?"

Athena's eyes narrowed, just a fraction, before they widened again. "Ah. Feminine forms of address for me as well, which you may assume for the foreseeable future."

You weren't wearing your helmet, so the whole damn restaurant could probably see your blush and terrible attempt at hiding a smile. Stupid helmet. Always covering your facial expressions so you never learned how to actually hide them.

Alexandria sniffed. You passed her a packet of tissues from your bag.

"I actually meant your name," You responded casually, "Though I am grateful for the clarification, and will endeavor to remember it."

At this, Athena had actually stiffened. "Athena will be fine." She'd said, punctuating the sentence with a bite of salad so she couldn't be expected to continue.

Next to you, after clearing her nose, Alexandria had groaned, "Aw, mom, and we were doing so well."

"Athena it is." You had agreed, inclining your head, because it was Alexandria's birthday, and you understood wanting to keep a part of yourself away from the world. Or even just your unexpected dinner partner.

You were fairly certain neither of them could tell that it had actually hurt.

To both of your credit, you made it all the way to the dessert course before the violence broke out.

The violence wasn't even at your table. It was further down the long row of booths, a mild commotion. Still, Athena's eyes narrowed at you, and she placed one hand on her bag.

"What did you do?" She demanded, and for once, her gaze traded off between you and Alexandria.

"Nothing!" Alexandria had protested immediately.

"Ordered a brownie." You had replied, leaning over to see what was going on. "Perhaps it was too 'sinfully succulent' for the wait staff-"

(Yes. You had ordered it because of the pun. Alexandria had snickered.)

"- or, ah, no. Wrong direction. Something out of the windows?" You'd straightened in your seat, indicating the window side of your table where you'd all left the blinds down to keep out the setting sun.

Athena had moved towards the cover on the blinds.

She never quite reached them.

When you woke up, you hadn't been sure how much time had passed. The ringing in your ears had suggested a few minutes. The fatigue pressing down on you had suggested much longer.

Or maybe that wasn't fatigue. Something solid, and heavy. Blocks of some kind...? Ah, concrete, your old nemesis, must be. Except it was on your skin, and something about that wasn't right. Above you was cracked, exposed scaffolding, a roof about to fold inwards -

Below you, something had squirmed.

"Menace," You gasped, suddenly aware again of your surroundings. Dinner. Alexandria. Athena. You twisted around, and were relieved to see that Alexandria's eyes were open and alert.

"Synovus? What - Mom!"

You had experience being thrown by people with super strength, which was probably all that had saved you from worse injuries when Alexandria had panicked and shoved you. Nothing broke, but you were pretty sure that shoulder was going to be purple for a while.

And honestly, you didn't blame her. All you could see of Athena, at the moment, was an arm coated in gray dust.

As soon as your breathing had returned, you had moved back to help your panicked protégé move rubble. But this wasn't the first destroyed room you'd ever been in, and Athena wasn't your mother, so you had noticed a few things Alexandria had missed.

For one - no one else was moving yet. All three of you had super-something, and you'd reflexively shoved Alexandria behind you. Potential outcomes: that blast had been enough to kill everyone else, or you three had just recovered first.

Two - no sirens yet. You'd heard Alexandria, so your hearing wasn't shot entirely. That meant either the response force wasn't on its way, or it wasn't coming. Or it was already here.

Three - the wall was now open to the street, and the street was occupied. Three individuals, standing upright. One of them was pointing at you.

You had been a villain much too long not to know what that meant.

At this distance, with the lighting being what it was, you couldn't tell if they were costumed. Admittedly, that didn't mean as much as it once had, the costume was more of a thing than a requirement. But you were without yours, and so was Athena, and so was Alexandria. If you were lucky, they hadn't seen your faces.

"Get her to Oflok." You told Alexandria quietly, ducking so that you were blocking her from view.

Alexandria had looked up, too shocked to cry, and between you and her parents she also knew what this scenario meant. "You don't have a costume." She whispered.

You smiled, but it wasn't the reassuring warmth of a hero's smile. It was your coldest, when the shadows were already beginning to fill your eyes. "I do not need one."

When you stood, and turned, the shadows fled the rubble to coalesce around you. They coated your limbs, formed the familiar shape of your helmet over your head. You were still exposed - this took a lot of energy, and you didn't have any of the padding or armoring you usually did - but not visible in the sense of identifiable as a civilian.

You were both very visible and very identifiable to the three individuals you were stalking towards.

"Lord Synovus." One of the three called, and it was a little jarring, to be identified by that moniker when you were in the other, but it didn't matter much right this moment. "Having a lovely evening?"

You briefly considered tearing them to pieces where they stood. "I'm about to." You called cheerily, letting the implication of an unhinged threat carry.

These three were either too stupid or disrespectful to heed that warning.

"You are welcome to join us, of course." A different one spoke. This one had white hair. You immediately ignored everything else about them, and mentally designated them White. "We are happy to indulge our elders."

"Is that your family?" The first speaker asked, sounding vaguely delighted. They were in a costume, one that was mostly blue. Okay, Blue it was. "Oh my, is that why you retired? Going domestic?"

This was going to be all over the fucking villain gossip vine. But that was a problem for future Synovus. Current Synovus needed to make sure those individuals weren't identified as Athena and Mercury/Menace.

You weren't above using silences to prove your points for you, but you could tell these three would just build off of each other if you didn't intervene.

"If you believe retirement has softened me." You said softly, ominous as the shadows stirred at your feet. "I invite you to test that assumption."

Something finally broke through to them about that. The third one spoke, the one who had been pointing. There was something about their eyes that you didn't like. "By your own admission, Synovus, this is not your territory anymore. We are within our rights."

You immediately pegged that one as the ringleader. "Oh, I've no intention of stopping a pack of puppies from romping." You said, the false cheer filling your voice again. "You can and will do as you like - but as you have so assiduously pointed out, I am retired. And you, aware or not, have attacked my person."

You are still deciding how to begin when the Ringleader steps back. "Time to go."

"There are three of us and one of him." Blue protested. "We can-"

"Time. To go." Ringleader says pointedly, moving rapidly away. "Synovus is stalling. I can't see the reason. We're leaving."

On a hunch, you throw a spike of shadow at them. You are unsurprised when Ringleader dodges neatly. "A clairvoyant." You identify with disdain. "And you two? Ice or Lightning?"

"Come and find out." Blue hissed, though White was the one who tried to swing at you - only to find Ringleader clutching their wrist.

"Now." You hear Ringleader say, before they raise their voice. “Is there anything I can say to make you leave?”

Blue hadn’t taken their eyes off of you. Now, they cracked their knuckles, and spread their hands as fire sparked to life and curled around them. "I'm no coward." They growled.

“So be it.” Ringleader said.

In the next heartbeat, Ringleader and White were gone. Teleportation? Ugh. But you’d deal with that later.

You smiled again, spreading your footing. "I would hate to disappoint."

---

When you finally get back to your island, you are exhausted. The dress you had liked so much before is smoke-soaked and starting to feel wrong, you'd lost one of your shoes, and despite all of the evening's violence there's still a feeling itching in your veins that wants more.

Still, the days when you could've just gone straight to your bedroom and forbidden anyone from disturbing you for a few hours are gone.

"Menace?" You call in a smoke-raspy voice, as you enter the small medical facility buried deep in the island's bunker. There are several beds here, in case more than one minion or work crew member gets injured on the job. Rosie and Oflok trade shifts when you don't have other medical staff on call.

Both of them are here now, and it's Oflok who holds up a hand to stop you while she inspects you. "Asleep for now." She answers, all business, prodding experimentally at your bruises.

Rosie is preparing a selection of pills for you, "She's in bed three. Athena is awake though. She only agreed to sit still until you got here, so -"

"I'll talk to her." You say tiredly, taking the small handful of pills and offered bottle of water. You down all of it before moving to the back corner, where they'd stashed Athena.

You find her sitting up, with her leg in a cast, and mad as hell.

"This is your fault." She hisses, turning the tablet one of your staff must've given her to show news reports. There's a nice, slow pan across the crater you'd left Blue in. They won't show Blue themselves - they were too injured for this particular news site, which you knew had some strict guidelines against gore - but they do give their name: Cobalt. "Because of you, those people are dead. And you killed that girl-"

You have a hand raised and your mouth open before you can catch yourself. The thunder of the fight still roars, and the pulse of it feels like something begging to be let out. It would be easy to hit her. A transfer of energy at its most basic. It would be easy to yell at her. Expulsion of these emotions as air into the space between you, to drown her out, to invite her to escalate or capitulate.

You bite your own hand instead and turn away. Surprised, Athena falls silent.

You close your eyes, and very gently press your forehead against the coolness of the wall. You think of the waves against the shores of your island. You think of Rosie when she's telling everyone about how well the garden is doing. You think of the way the shadows can feel like silk in your hands and the time you tried to braid them into your hair.

When you no longer want to punch something and scream, you do not turn around, but you do speak.

"I didn't kill them." You say it quietly enough it shouldn't wake anyone, but loud enough that Athena will hear you. "I hurt them. Badly. But they are not dead. Neither are the other two who were there."

The silence hums with anger.

"If you want to blame me for the deaths at the restaurant," You straighten, and do finally turn around to meet Athena's eyes, "Then I cannot stop you. I imagine it feels better than blaming yourself."

Athena's jaw works for a moment. It can't feel comfortable, with the bruising and swelling up one side. Between you, the newsreel keeps going. It's a quiet buzz that keeps this silence from deepening.

Finally, Athena looks down. She squeezes her eyes closed. "Thank you." She says, voice reluctant and raw with unshed tears. "For saving my daughter's life. And for mine."

You are prepared to leave it at that - but she looks up at you again, and there is still determination in her eyes, but it's no longer blind anger. "My name-" She clears her throat, starts again, "-my name is Minerva."

You don't really know what to say to that. So you just nod, "You're welcome to stay here until you're recovered, Minerva."

Neither of you says anything else as you stumble off to find your own place to sleep.

---

Cobalt was known for running with two other villains - Dymania and the Jester. Dymania would've been the one you dubbed Ringleader, while Jester was the one you've been calling White. Their combined gimmicks of fire, teleportation, and clairvoyance have made them difficult opponents for the lower level heroes who usually wind up dealing with them.

They're the first group to show up to try and claim what used to be your turf, but they won't be the last.

Cobalt, at least, is out of the equation for a while. It's theorized that Jester has some degree of emotional influence mixed in with her powers, but you're not convinced - people thought that about you too for a while, and you're just annoying.

Dymania is the undoubtedly the real threat. You don't know what type of clairvoyant they are, and no one else seems to either.

You spend the next morning reading all you can find on them, while soaking your shoulder and fielding messages from other villains who’ve also seen the news. Some of them just want to laugh at you. Some of them have genuine questions. Some express disgust that someone was stupid enough to attack you, a supervillain of significant renown, less than a year after you’d retired.

You respond to the first group with clips you’ve saved of their own public disgraces, the second with answers that have so many meanings as to be functionally useless unless you like them personally, and the third are invited to do something about it.

You send your replies the same way you receive the messages - scrawling them onto the papers that appear in bursts of flames, tying them to a pigeon’s or owl’s leg, or mostly, over email. You don’t even check your Twitter, just open it long enough to send, “stay off my fucking property, I’m retired, not dead.”

Around noon, Alexandria comes in to see you. She knocks on the doorframe. You open the door with your shadows so that you don’t have to get out of bed.

“Menace,” you call in greeting, voice stronger than it had been. “Welcome, to the innermost layer of my defenses, the pinnacle of my most secure bunker, impenetrable defenses of-“

“The window is open.” Alexandria says wearily, coming over to flop onto the extra space of your bed. While you gasp and feign sputtering disgust at such a lapse in security, she stares blankly at some of the news screens.

“I heard you and Mom talking last night.” She says abruptly, and you stop your act. Desperately, you rewind what you remember of that conversation. Mostly you just recall biting your own hand and something about a name.

Alexandria shifts, looking up at you. “Do you think… is that why they were so mad, sometimes?” She asks in a small voice. “Was it.. did they blame me, because it hurt too much to blame themselves?”

You fiddle with the tablet in your hands for a moment. “I’m not trained for this, Alexandria.” You warn her, “but… it is easier, to make other people responsible for our mistakes. It doesn’t solve the guilt, but it does let us avoid it, for a while. Sometimes that means we yell at things that aren’t the reason we’re upset, or pick fights with people we love.”

She isn’t meeting your eyes, and you don’t force the issue. When she glances at your shoulder, you nod and make a ‘come here’ gesture.

With that encouragement, she shuffles up the bed to sit beside you, and leans her head on your shoulder. Too late, you recall your bruises.

“Are you hurt?” Alexandria asks. She sits up again, worriedly turning to look at you, and in the process catches the loose fabric of your robe sleeve. It’s pulled down, revealing the nebula of bruises across your shoulder.

Any hope you have of passing it off as a wound from the fight ends at the expression in her eyes.

“Alexandria.”

“I did this.” She whispers, horrified.

“Alexandria.”

“When I saw mom, I - I panicked, and-“

“Alex.”

“- you - you threw yourself in front of me, you protected me, and I -“

You finally reach over, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look you in the face. “No.” You tell her firmly.

Her face is ashen. There are no tears yet, only horror. “I’m just like them.”

You sigh, and try to find a way to stop the spiral. “Oh? If you’re my parent, I think we have a few other problems on our hands.”

Alexandria finally does look at you at that, but you’re not sure this is much of an improvement. She yanks out of your grip, “Don’t.” She warns you in a warbling voice, “don’t pretend it’s any different.”

“Menace, it is different.” You sound annoyed, and try to curb that. “You are a child. They were adults. You are not responsible for me and my well-being. You didn’t hurt me because you were angry or frustrated, you were scared.”

You can’t tell if she wants to believe you or not.

“And,” You point out, though it’s ashes in your mouth, “this has happened once. If the difference in our power is not enough to convince you this is not the same, if the difference in scenario is not enough I convince you this is not the same, let it be a single event, and let that be the end of it.”

“And if it happens again?” Alexandria asks quietly.

You shrug with your good shoulder, “We deal with it then. I knew the risks, little menace. I’ve been fighting your parents for a long time.”

After a moment, she moves to your other side, tucking against you while she stares unseeing into the middle distance. “I never asked you how that started.” She murmurs, leaning her head on your shoulder. “Will you tell me?”

“It’s not much of a story.” You remark, “And your mother probably remembers it differently. But, if you insist -“

—-

You had all been fairly early in your careers - this was, what, twenty years ago? Sheesh - but it wasn’t your debuts. Actually, the territories you normally covered didn’t overlap just yet, with you only starting to stake your claim on a county in California and their stakes generally being further north, more over in Washington state.

You had still been trying to make a single gender stick in those days, and you’d decided that “Lord Synovus” sounded more imposing, so that was what you were known by. You’d heard of Legionnaire, but never met him. Athena, though she’d made a few appearances by then, was new to you.

But you were getting ahead of yourself - it started at the bank.

This was back when you still did most of the legwork for your own crimes. You had chosen this particular bank because it was near a cliff, which you planned to leap off of with your stolen loot once you escaped.

The first part of your plan had gone brilliantly. You’d changed into your costume in the bank’s employee’s only bathroom, cut the lights, and thrown shadows over all of the windows and the doors.

When you’d seen someone reaching for a panic button, you’d laughed. “Go ahead!” You’d invited them. “Really. Do it.”

You meant it, but something about your demeanor scared them. They didn’t press the button. So you had walked over, taken their trembling hand, and pressed it together.

“Always better to commit, my friend.” You’d told them.

“Pretty sure that’s not your friend, pal.” Had come the bravado-infused rebuttal from somewhere behind you.

(You learned later that he had given the building a new skylight, free of charge.)

“I’m not your pal, bro.” You’d responded fluidly, drawling as you released the citizen. “Pals know each other’s names, and I have no idea who you are.”

Sometimes you could get the heroes with that one, when they were puffed up on fame. Legionnaire - because yeah, you did know who he was, actually - didn’t take that bait.

“That’s a shame.” He’d said coolly, “How about I give you something to remember me by?”

And that had been the end of your lead-in banter. He’d thrown his shield at your head, you’d ducked and gone for a sucker punch. You focused on dodging and slipping around the furniture, while he used it as projectiles and occasionally cover.

When you’d worked your way back to where you had stashed a bag full of stolen credit, you’d said something about shadows and light - no, really, you didn’t remember, it wasn’t because it was cringey in hindsight, that would be ridiculous Alexandria - and dropped the window coverings to make good on your escape.

—

“Wait.” Alexandria says, back in the now, eyebrows furrowing, “I think I have heard this story, or at least part of it - didn’t you drop the bank on him?”

“Am I telling the story or not?” You asked, tugging a lock of her hair.

—

Okay, yes, you had dropped the bank on him. Part of it. You had weakened some of the structural integrity of the outer walls, and once you were through, you collapsed the way behind you.

You knew it wouldn’t stop Legionnaire, what with his super strength, but it would force him to choose between you or the civilians still inside, and nine times out of ten heroes chose the civilians. This time, Legionnaire didn’t prove to be an exception.

As for the civilians if he had chased you, well. They’d had the whole fight to crawl away while you were distracted, and if they hadn’t taken that opportunity, that was on them.

You had thought you were home free, as you made it to the cliff just like you planned. Then, a geyser of water, with water droplets that scattered and spun to a halt around a woman in a white chiton (luckily dry).

—-

“And then your mom punched me in the face.” You sigh.

Alexandria was losing the battle against her own grin. “Knocked you flat in one blow, as I’ve heard it.”

“Knocked me flat? Try broke my jaw. I couldn’t even banter as I scuttled away. It was humiliating.”

Alexandria giggles, “The way Dad told it, you were struck dumb by Mom’s beauty.”

“Since when has being dumb ever kept me from opening my mouth?” You ask her, quirking a brow. “Anyway, I thought you said you didn’t know how we’d all met.”

“They never said it was you.” She explained, shrugging. “Just a villain they encountered.”

You scoff, genuinely offended, but Alexandria pats your arm and says, “They were kinda distracted - they had come down that far south for their honeymoon.”

“Really?” You ask skeptically. “Weird place for a honeymoon.”

“I think they were still traveling.”

“Well, that would make more sense.” You concede.

“Mom says now that should’ve been an omen.” Alexandria remarks, watching an advertisement that’s come on while you’re talking. “You showing up like that. She’s said before that you have a habit of showing up around important events in her life - I wonder if she blames you for the divorce instead of me?”

You shift to stare down at her, “They got divorced?”

Self conscious, Alexandria gives you a tiny shrug. “A few months ago, from the sound of things. Dad’s not doing too well. Did you really give that villain a spiral fracture?”

The topic change comes as the news reel returns, this time with more updates on Cobalt’s condition, leaked by one of the surgeons, probably.

“Yeah.” You admit, frowning. “But some of those are bogus, or at least not from me. I only broke the left arm because they kept trying to choke me and shove fire in my face. If their right wrist is broken too, that’s on them.”

“How did you manage that?” She asks, sitting up and turning to look at you.

You shake a finger at her, scolding, “Don’t you deflect conversations about emotionally fraught topics into requests for physical violence demonstrations. I’ll have you know I’m immune to those.”

“Is that why it’s worked the past few times?” Your menace asks, wrinkling her nose.

“I may not have meant immune, I may have meant the other thing, but it doesn’t matter.” You declare, turning off the news. “Because we… have birthday celebrations unfinished. To the dungeon!”

—-

Your minions are just as fond of Alexandria at this point as they are of you. Ergo, of course they would’ve wanted to celebrate her birthday at home.

Jumping out from behind corners or blowing kazoos in the dark is generally a bad idea when dealing with super powered individuals though, so it wasn’t quite a surprise party in the most traditional sense. You were pretty sure Alexandria was okay with that.

Instead, most of the furniture in the dungeon/brunch room was cleared out of the way, so that everyone could fit inside without shuffling awkwardly along the walls or getting pushed out onto the balcony against their will (or over the balcony, but that had only happened the one time).

Oflok and Doll had made the cake, Rosie had filled the room with flowers and wove a crown of them into Alexandria's hair. Heather, your quartermaster, was hawking over a table full of presents in what you honestly thought might've been a draconic instinct. Theo, your usual tech guy, was already asleep on a lounger on the balcony, but you knew from personal experience he'd be awake whenever the cake was served.

And you'd made sure to have someone fetch Athena - Minerva - in her reluctantly-accepted wheelchair, to bring her down to the festivities too. You'd be lying if you said you weren't looking forward to showing her you were better at throwing a birthday party than she was.

After people had had time to do their rounds, and claim their favored chairs, you moved to the empty space at the center of the room, and pressed your hands together. The room grew quiet. Expectant.

"Menace." You address your protégé with a small flourish, indicating the space in front of you. "Alexandria. Stand before me."

Alexandria took the few steps without too much hesitancy, though she did seem a little nervous. You hoped that meant no one had told her about this particular tradition.

Drawing on all of your sense of gravitas, you spread your hands before you. "You have spent several months residing in my domain, and been welcome all throughout that time. While it makes my heart glad to extend such an invitation indefinitely, you have served me loyally, and such service deserves recognition. Therefore -"

You raised your voice a fraction, enough to draw in your crowd a little more. "- I offer you the chance to claim this house as your own. To make this no longer my sole realm, but one shared, as our time and goals have been."

Alexandria hitched in a breath, searching your face. "And the price?"

You were so proud of her it was ridiculous.

"There is but one cost." You said solemnly. "You must prove your skill. You must defeat me, here and now, and in so doing, make your claim unwavering."

Doubt flickers across her face, consternation, but you aren't finished. "I am inviting you, Alexandria, Menace, my student and my friend - to engage in a revolution."

You point past her, to where your minions have parted to reveal the screen and dance boards you'd sent Theo to set up earlier. As she turns, you declare, "A dance-dance revolution."

---

As per tradition, you do wind up winning.

While you are good at the game, you think this time you had a truly unfair advantage - Alexandria could hardly breathe to put up a fight because she was laughing so hard. Your minions heckled you mercilessly, you ignored all of your normal sense of grace or dignity, and after you had won, while you were crowing about an undefeated crown, someone pressed a pie tin filled with whipped cream into Alexandria's hands.

She got you square in the face.

"Ah," You'd remarked, doing your best to wipe the confection out of your eyes and only managing to smear it into your hair, "Like mother like daughter, I see. She's inherited your aim!" You call to Minerva, who looks aghast at the entire scene.

Rosie took it upon herself to console Alexandria after her 'loss' by explaining that this was a tradition, and that no one had beaten you yet - and then turned around to place a bet on who would win between Doll and Oflok, as they stepped up to the plates.

Once you were satisfied that the tournament was in full swing, you stepped back to find an actual paper towel. You wound up standing next to Minerva.

"I cannot believe," She said slowly, watching the current bout while you scraped your eyelids raw, "That after all of these years fighting you, all I had to do to defeat you. Was win at an arcade game."

You look up long enough to flash her a grin, and drop into the chair next to her. "What a shame you can't compete now." You lament, indicating her leg. "Perhaps one day, Lady Athena, we will end our dance."

Minerva snorts. You're both quiet for a moment, watching the rest of the party. It brings you the closest thing you've ever managed to peace, watching this family of yours - not that you'd ever say that out loud - engaging in the age-old tradition of attempting to out-ridiculous each other.

"I actually started playing the game as a form of physical therapy." You admit. You're not sure why. "After that time I got crushed by that mound of a hero - what was his name?"

Minerva gives you a look, raising a brow. "Thunderhawk?"

You groan, "Yes, that was it - not sure how I managed to forget, with how often he liked to shout it."

"He did favor... self-advertisement."

You roll your eyes, "He didn't know the root of his name either. I tried to educate him. It went right over his head."

As you sigh, Minerva considers something. "You do - or did - that a lot." She remarked. "Tried to lecture while mid-fight. I never did learn why you were spouting all those vocabulary words at us that time in Reno, though."

"Ah, that - I'd been hiding in the library down the street waiting for a hero to show. I got bored, so I decided to ransack the shelves for forbidden knowledge."

"And wound up with a dictionary?"

"Thesaurus, actually. I was saving the dictionary."

"Well, I'm glad we could save you from such a dreary fate as education."

You're almost sure that's a smile, and that she's more amused than disdainful.

Then something changes. She blinks, rapidly, and her hands tighten on the arms of the chair she's in.

"Minerva?" You prompt her quietly, offering a hand. You don't feel anything out of order, but perhaps her senses reach further than yours, particularly tied to water - when was the last time you'd had someone check the alarm sensors?

"Don't." She says in warning, and you immediately withdraw your hand. "I can't - I can't be in this room right now."

You nod. "Balcony or hall?" You keep your voice soft, angled so that you're talking only to Minerva, your body forming a barrier between her and the rest of the room.

"Balcony." She whispers.

You gesture to the wheelchair's handles, "May I?"

Once she nods, you swiftly rise, sweeping your chair out of the way with one leg while you take up your self-appointed duty as chauffeur.

"Really, you're quite wrong." You say cheerfully, at a loud enough volume that you could be overheard as you begin to forge a path towards the balcony doors. "I promise you, we're at exactly the right point for the Orion constellation to pass overhead, and I can prove it-"

You continue your spiel as you reach the doors, for all appearances intent on proving yourself right in a nonexistent debate on constellation patterns. Once you've made sure no one else is out here to overhear you, you fall silent.

The air out here is balmy rather than cool, but the sea breeze is still pleasant. You lean on the railing, head tilted back, and watch the stars.

You pass a few moments in silence before Minerva breaks.

"I don't understand." She says, and it's more like a cry, though for what you don't know. "How can you do this?"

You shift, resting your weight on one arm to look at her more directly, "I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific."

Minerva gestures at the party behind you, "All of it! Yesterday we were caught up in a terrorist attack, last year we were trying to kill each other, and now we're - we're what, sharing cake?!?"

Her voice breaks, and you lower yourself to sit on the balcony, legs poking out through the breaks in its railing to swing in the open air. You give her a chance to continue, and she does.

"I thought - I thought that all of these people, you were manipulating them. That you had hunted them, found them at their lowest, so that you could - could make them love you, be loyal to you, so that you could use them. I thought that was what you wanted with Alexandria, what you wanted with me. I thought that - that anyone who knew what you were and supported you must be-" She cuts herself off, making desperate motions as though the words can be drawn from the air.

You lean back until you're laying flat on the balcony, staring up at the stars. "Must be evil."

There's a silence.

"You know I'm a liar, Minerva." You say, "You know I have kept things from you. I am a killer, on scales small and large. I have kidnapped, extorted, tortured. There are holes in my moral foundation that would put the Grand Canyon to shame."

Absently, you pick out the patterns of constellations. "But that does not mean I cannot love. Nor does it mean I must forgo the lesser kindnesses. We, you and I, and all of our cohorts and enemies, live with a casual violence humans were never meant to. You couldn't have done anything to save those people yesterday. And you would still kill me, kill most of the people in that room if you had to."

You roll your head to look at her, "If you're asking me if that makes you evil, I can't help you find that answer."

While you watch the sky, she is watching the waves. "We're all someone's monster." She murmured.

You lift your hands briefly, then let them fall back to your chest. "And we're all someone's idea of happiness."

"I thought you would mock me." Minerva says suddenly.

"What?" You blink at her, "For having questions about morality? That's-"

"At the restaurant. If I told you my name then." You realize she's picking at the cloth of her borrowed shirt, and decidedly not looking at you.

You frown, "Well, I mean, it did answer a question I'd had for a while." When she glances at you warily, you explain, "I had always gotten the impression that you had modeled your persona after Legionnaire's. Given his preference for all things Roman, I assumed you would've taken the Roman aspect. But if 'Minerva' was your real name..." You shrug.

Minerva stares at you for a moment, pressing her lips into a line. "You're going to mock me." She says grimly.

"Is it that bad?"

She sighs, "Albion thought 'Athena' sounded sexier."

Earlier, you had told Alexandria that you'd never been struck dumb-silent. Now, you'd have to revise that answer. Because there are many layers to this that you have to mentally unpack, while your facial expression does heavens-knows-what, until you stuff your hand into your mouth to keep from spouting out something terrible.

"Albion?" You squeak, when you're sure you won't burst out laughing instead.

"Legionnaire."

You take a very deep breath. Then you let it out. "Oh. Oh that man never had a snowball's chance in hell, did he. And he-" You snort, and bite your lip to contain the fit of laughter, condemning it to silent shaking.

"I told you." Minerva muttered, resting her head in one hand.

You might be crying. It is Alexandria's birthday, but you have been given a gift.

"My dear Minerva." You say, once reason has returned to your vague area code, "Your ex-husband. Is one of the stupidest men I've ever met. And I have met a lot of stupid people."

You're fairly certain Minerva is blushing.

"Well," She says, after a pause, "I suppose I can't refute that."

"In particular," You comment as you get to your feet, brushing off any grime from laying on the ground, "He is incredibly wrong about your name."

Definitely blushing.

"I -" Whatever Minerva was going to say is lost, as Alexandria throws open one of the balcony doors.

"Synovus!" She calls, face flushed, "I want a rematch!"

---

[Part two of this installation in the Synoverse coming soon!]

#synovus #synoverse #Happy Pride Month #This one is slower than the first #Time to explore some character development #My apologies to anyone named Albion IRL

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ohblackdiamond · 1 month

Text

the story of mandate (conclusion)

Part I is here. Here is the completely signed magazine.

I went to a Paul event thanks to my dear friend @elrohare and I was a woman on a mission. This was my holy grail, my twelve labors of Hercules, my ultimate sacrifice of good sense, my Mandate, if you will. Paul is a man of constant sorrow who's seen trouble all his days. Paul had not known trouble until he saw my face again a mere two months after his last time.

Unlike Gene, who will randomly set a date to hand out his crap for hilarious prices, Ace, who will appear at any 500-1000 seater across the country and balefully advertise his meet and greets onstage, and Peter, who will roll out of bed every six months for a horror convention, Paul does his events at Wentworth galleries across the country. Paul is basically like Pokemon Red's Porygon. You can get him, but he'll take everything you have.

I was prepared. I had done the legwork and the paperwork. Part of my purchase included an autographed item. (Please note that this is not nearly the entirety of the, uh, Paul Stanley Experience, if you will-- this is only the Mandate aspect of it. There was more!)

Paul remembered both of us. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah, couple months, since February, yeah." I'm actually sort of not shocked he remembered us since neither of us look like typical KISS fans. There is also a very large height difference between us, so we are distinctive. We talk. I manage some conversation, some of which is sort of funny. But I'm not here to provide Paul with wit and candor. I'm here for Mandate, which he has already by that point seen the back of even with me trying to cover the naked men in the tub with my phone. He has already also seen the front of it, with its doodled-on-by-Gene cover. He has seen it open, because I had to set it down in order for us to take our picture together. He has probably spent the whole rest of our conversation leading up to this determining what to say to the lone weirdo that has not given him RARO, his solo album, his other solo album, the KISS comic book (mint condition), or various and sundry other KISS collectibles.

He has hit on it. He gestures to the president of Wentworth who is, incidentally, the one that's borrowing my phone to take our pictures. He comes closer as Paul shows him the magazine, along with me.

"Gene drew on it [the front cover of my copy]," I say.

"Mandate... this is the very first magazine we were ever in." (Peter said the same thing in his first book. They are both technically incorrect, but far be it from me to correct Paul Stanley on things that happened before I was born-- and to be honest, knowing what I know about how slow it could end up being to go from writing a feature for a monthly magazine to it actually being published, it wouldn't surprise me at all if they'd done the magazine some months prior to it being on the shelves).

"Our manager at the time said he could get us into a magazine. We didn't know it was a gay magazine. I mean, whatever you're into, but... ["I wasn't," basically, though I don't know if he said those two words specifically]....." as he flips, completely needlessly, through the pictures, sort of slowly, until he gets to page eight and page nine, where all three of his bandmates have signed in black Sharpie. "Of course, they blew me [the photo] up. ... And Gene drew on it."

I finally manage to pipe up.

"Yeah, Gene texted you about it, purportedly, anyway...."

"Yeah, he did."

"He did? Really?"

He looked like he was weirdly thoughtful. Well, sounded like he was. Maybe even a little bit amused. I had a hard time looking too hard at him while this was going on, and I found myself looking more at the naked men he was flipping through. But I had my plan and I would not be too distracted. I had brought my own black Sharpie, since I knew he had a penchant for signing in silver (this is because his Wentworth artwork always comes with an inscription on black paper that he writes on in silver). The Sharpie was right there and, possibly because he was keenly aware of my level of distress at the thought of Mandate being signed in a different color, he obediently took it and signed it and shut it, and handed it back to me. My smile could've broken through my dimples.

Triumph complete. Thank you, @elrohare for again allowing me the pleasure of coming with, and I was glad to plus-one and for once, return the favor.

Thank you, Mr. Paul Stanley of KISS. And thank you to Peter, Gene (especially Gene!), and Ace. I hope Mandate gave you all an unexpected blast from the past, and I really wish I'd told Paul that Peter quite appreciated the ass on the guy on the front cover. Maybe next time.

#kiss the band #paul stanley #peter criss #ace frehley #mandate magazine #gene simmons

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mc-lukanette · 7 months

Text

If being embarrassed was a sport, Marinette would've won the game all by herself. If being embarrassed was a river, she'd be carried violently downstream screeching "Why did I do that?!" If being embarrassed was the goal of the night, she'd have succeeded with flying colors.

It was not, in fact, the goal of the night.

All Marinette had wanted was to spend some time with Nino at a charity event, make a few jokes about the guys who were auctioned off as temporary dates, and go about her life after a mildly fun night where nothing of interest happened.

Clearly, that was not the case, and it was all she could do to find the quickest opportunity to sneak out. It felt vaguely like she was abandoning Nino, but she suspected that he had similar plans.

Unfortunately, she'd barely made it out into the hall before a familiar and unfairly smooth voice called out, "Hey, Marinette."

"Eep!"

She jumped. The hallway was so empty and quiet that his voice seemed extra surprising, and Luka just stood there, casually smiling away like she hadn't just made a complete fool out of herself.

Maybe if I pretend not to know him, he'll go along with it, she thought desperately.

Only it was too late, Luka idly toying with his bangs as he admitted, "I didn't expect you to buy me."

Her face flushed pink. The sound of her hitting the table and shouting out her price probably could've been heard throughout all of Paris, right? She could already see the news articles about it: Desperate Woman Has Superhuman Vocal Chords.

And did he have to word it like she bought him and not a date with him?!

"W-well..." She dropped her gaze to the floor, rubbing against the rug with her foot. She debated on whether to claim I just acted, or I wasn't thinking, or it was just a joke, but ultimately decided to admit, "I didn't want anyone else to have you?"

She dared to peek up and saw his brows raise in surprise. Feeling the intensity of the auction come back, she stomped at the floor her foot and clarified, "B-because all those people don't know you, and you don't know them! You can't know what their intentions are!" With a small 'hmph', she crossed her arms and added, "And they were even advertising you as Jagged Stone's son, not Luka Couffaine!"

"I'm probably not a popular face, even with my dad," Luka replied, having the audacity to defend them.

"But you're a kind face!" Marinette protested, committing to her argument and pointing at him. "They kept bidding weak prices for you and I couldn't let them get away with that! It was like they didn't even respect your time!"

He choked out a laugh, covering his mouth to stifle the rest of it.

"D-don't laugh! I'm serious!"

"I know," he said through his giggles, clearing his throat to try and cut himself off. "I just feel lucky."

She faltered, confused. "Lucky?"

He nodded, smiling at her. "Thank you for looking out for me, Marinette. I really appreciate it."

"Really?"

"You're right. Maybe I could've been in danger."

She relaxed her shoulders, seeing that he actually understood. Of course, she knew she had "other motives" to buy a date with him, but at her core, she couldn't help worrying about him. She worried about everyone.

"...Still." She rubbed the back of her neck shyly, adding, "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just bought you like that. I know it's for charity and I'm glad the money's going to it, but—" She covered her face to whine into her hands. "—I've never done this before! It feels like I'm claiming you! You don't even have to go on a date with me, really!"

There was a pause, followed by Luka letting out a slow breath. She tensed, sensing what she was fairly sure was disappointment, only to then feel Luka's fingertips against the back of her hands. He caressed downwards until he could grab her wrists, gently tugging to make her reveal her face to him.

"Disappointment" was not what she saw in his expression.

"What if I told you that it was okay?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

She blinked, then looked around to confirm that they were still alone. No one else was around, so her only guess was that Luka wanted to ensure that this conversation was only for them.

Blush intensifying, she swallowed and asked in reply, "F-for me to feel like I'm claiming you, or for you to go out on a date with me?"

He grinned instead of answering. "I'm looking forward to it, Marinette."

"Me claiming you, or going out on a date with me?" she asked again.

He continued as if he didn't even hear her, "I'll have to try my best to give you the kind of date you deserve."

Is that just... a yes?!

Before Marinette could respond, the two heard rapid footsteps approaching them. They looked just in time to see Nino fleeing the scene of the event, Adrien following closely behind and calling after him.

Chuckling sheepishly as she watched them go, Marinette noted, "I guess he'll have to explain it like I did."

"You didn't buy a date with Adrien?"

Luka's tone had shifted entirely and it occurred to her that he must've been elsewhere when the date with Adrien was up for auction. She turned to look at him, replying, "No? I didn't bid for him.... ah—" She waved her hands desperately, realizing that she'd just trapped herself. "—not that I think he doesn't deserve protection! But... um..."

"Hm." He hummed, a sparkle in his eyes like something had clicked in his head. Reaching out to press his hands to hers and intertwine their fingers, he added, "Don't worry. I think I get it."

She tilted her head to the side. "Y....you do?"

He followed along, tilting his head in the same direction. "I'll call you later so we can schedule our date. I'll pay, of course."

"Wait—no!" She pulled away. "You didn't ask to have a date with me!"

"I don't have to ask to want one," he retorted without missing a beat, unusually direct.

What did I get myself into?!

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #((implied Adrino but I don't think it's strong enough to tag it as such))

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into-september · 7 months

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"Destruction" is the worst episode of Miraculous Ladybug

Oh hey guys, remember way back in April or something when I said I was doing this? Well, the one year anniversary of its premiere is a suitable time to post this, particularly since yesterday saw the airing of the last piece of canon to come out in a while, which happened to be set immediately after these events.

With the always obligatory reminder in place that I generally think that “Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir” is in fact a good TV show whose appeal potentially reaches beyond its merchandise-mandated target group, it has an unflattering pattern of introducing the juiciest story threads and then just… do nothing about them.

The topic of today’s sermon isn't in isolation the worst offender. But it is thanks to this that the worst offender happens at all, so I'm not gonna be nice about it.

Scroll past to skip the negativity.

So, “Destruction”, possibly the most eagerly awaited episodes of out S5 if you don’t count all the false advertisement that was “Revelation”. I remember finding this episode uncharacteristically charmless for this show when I first watched it. They've been onto heavy topics before, but those episodes still had that je ne sais quoi that gives this show such heart. But re-watching "Destruction" I found it lacking already from the first scene, and felt it only in glimpses. It's just not fun.

The episode is also poorly paced, no way around it. It is inexplicably a flashback to two episodes ago which is not evident from the start. More than half the runtime technically consists of Marinette and Alya having a sleepover. The battle and its game-changing outcome is over at 12 minutes into the episode, which is barely past the halfway point. After that, we spend five minutes - a quarter of the episode's full runtime - on a flashback re-playing the same battle but now with verbal exposition explaining Marinette's clever plan. Mind that the confrontation between Marinette and Gabriel lasts for all of seven minutes, meaning that the flashback is nearing the length of the battle itself.

To top it of, it's bogged down with lengthy exchange between Gabriel and the kwamis just to make clear that the haters on the twitter were totally wrong when they bitched about Orikko being OP because actually its powers were something else than we established last season. Here's a bonus plot hole which has nothing to do with everything else I'm going to nag about: Orikko allegedly can't give out the powers of time-travel because no kwami can replicate another kwami's powers. Except for Nooroo and Duusu, I guess, who have done so on several occasions. One of the more remarkable being the episode which first heralded the event that "Destruction" set in motion: "Timetagger".

And who can forget that this was the second time in three episodes where Ladybug and Cat Noir had Monarch at their mercy but spent so much time giving triumphant speeches that he gets away.

Or that that in fact was the second time on the same night.

But while those things certainly make the episode poor, they are not what makes it the worst.

What makes this episode the worst isn't its technical failures, but about the way it leaves its feces all over the themes and the character arcs it seemed like the show had been building up until this point. Moreover: in the role it plays in S5 and the Agreste storyline, and how the show's refusal to touch it again creates a black hole in the season at large, and arguably in the show as a whole.

I. THE INESCAPABLE CONTEXT OF WHAT CAME BEFORE IT

The art of telling a story is the art of highlighting what matters and leaving out what doesn’t. In a well-crafted story, no matter the medium, no detail is insignificant. Every word is carefully chosen, every line or hue made with intention. The curtains aren’t blue just because, and Miraculous Ladybug has made too many meta jokes to hide behind the claim that it’s just a silly rom-com for kids. It has trained its older audience into looking for context and connections; after “Mr. Pigeon 72”, you can’t insist that nothing that happened earlier in this show matters for what happens later. Titles matter a lot in a show where episodes are titled after the villain-of-the-week who usually is the thematic mirror to what our heroes are going through.

“Destruction” is the fourth episode somehow named after Adrien, and the third somehow named after Plagg. You bet this matters.

As some might know, "Kuro Neko" is not my favourite episode. That's not to say I don't like it! It's cute! It's playing a really interesting scenario! We get Plagg hanging out at chez Marinette! But to enjoy it, I have to willfully ignore the storytelling incompetence it flagrantly displays. Because the moment you peek beneath the surface of the events happening to consider theme, motifs, and narrative parallels, it's just

"Kuro Neko" is the second episode that is named after Cat Noir. The first one was "Cat Blanc". There is a thematic connection between the two; not a very clear one and probably not an intentional one, but all the same: both episodes are about an alternative to Cat Noir. One is the result of his father's violence; the other is Adrien's own attempt to become more like the person he presents around his father. They also both show us Plagg and Adrien negotiation Adrien's relationship to Ladybug, and how Ladybug and Cat Noir negotiate that same thing.

"Cat Blanc", for all its apocalyptic visions, starts and ends with hope. It starts with Marinette’s hope at confessing to Adrien, to Adrien’s hope in finally knowing Ladybug’s identity and knowing her like he’s yearned for for three seasons. Those hopes lead to disaster, but the episode ends with Ladybug finding Cat Noir on the Montparnasse Tower, where he is singing his lullaby about the kitty being "all alone without his Lady". As is fitting, Marinette breaks the pattern: after having just witnessed a world turned to destruction because the two of them loved each other, she leans her head on his shoulder in perhaps the most romantic gesture she's ever given him.

"Kuro Neko", in contrast, starts with Adrien resigning the job when he realises that Ladybug no longer needs him and that makes him feel bad. It ends with him coming back and verbally accepting that Ladybug doesn't owe him any exclusive treatment; he isn't her unique partner, just one of many. Where the final scene of "Cat Blanc" seemed to confirm that Ladybug is indeed the answer to Adrien's solitude, the final scene of "Kuro Neko" and its continuation in the first scene in "Risk" both make clear that the opposite is now status: Adrien has to accept the painful fact that as much as Ladybug might be the most important person in his life, Cat Noir does not hold a similar space in Ladybug's.

(The end of “Strike Back” of course claims to remedy this, but those words don’t ring very true when to Marinette’s knowledge, nothing of what went wrong today had anything to do with her keeping secrets from Cat Noir. More damning: Marinette never follows up on her purported regret. In all of S5, she never once sits down to share all those secrets with Cat Noir. Status from "Kuro Neko" still stands, and Adrien is fine with that now. This has nothing to do with the many problems “Destruction” creates, but talking about “Kuro Neko” by necessity means talking about how it wasn’t fixed even if they put the words in Marinette’s mouth. And now back to our scheduled programming)

"Cat Blanc" and "Kuro Neko" by their very existence bring up a thorny topic: That Adrien being Cat Noir isn't wholly unproblematic, and that both Adrien as an individual and Ladybug as the Guardian might have legitimate reasons to question that choice. This has always been obvious to the viewer who knows Hawkmoth’s identity, but the show itself eventually starts calling attention to that from an entirely different angle - namely that of his powers.

Lest we forget: The first episode of S4 that aired wasn't the first episode chronologically: It was "Furious Fu", wherein we learn that The Order of the Guardians has it out for Plagg specifically, and where Ladybug's status as The Guardian is almost revoked on the grounds that she's letting him run around unsupervised. This question of Plagg's whereabouts comes up again in the only episode that is named after Adrien sans Plagg: "Ephemeral", a re-play of “Cat Blanc” except not good. This whole subplot is quickly forgotten, though it being the only one of Su-Han's complaints that weren't about him being a boomer, it's also worth remember that "Destruction" technically happens a couple of hours after he made his last appearance. One might expect that his one consistent lesson would be important enough to echo a bit in the episode where it’s proven to be justified.

"Destruction", as not only one very early episode of the season promising to finally bring about some significant and not the least permanent changes to their lives, but indeed an episode happening on the same night as Ladybug's declaration of regret and Cat Noir's renewed declaration to be her partner, would by its title and its topic seem like the obvious place to finally resolve what "Cat Blanc" and "Kuro Neko" both asked us to question: The existential terror of Plagg's powers, why it is that Adrien is uniquely chosen to temper them at Ladybug’s side, and how Adrien feels about being the one to carry that responsibility.

Yeah. Well.

II. ADRIEN'S PRESENCE IN "DESTRUCTION"

Where "Kuro Neko" and "Cat Blanc" place significant focus on Adrien Agreste in his civillian life, in "Destruction" he appears on screen for a total of 25 seconds - most of which are another flashback to a previous episode, and whose purpose is to highlight Gabriel's hurt from the cataclysm, not Adrien's thoughts about what is happening.

Cat Noir's presence is also marginal. Three minutes of screentime pass from his first appearance until the battle is over. Said battle is the turning point in the war between the heroes and Monarch, thanks to neither Ladybug's powers nor Monarch and all the kwamis, but Monarch using Cat Noir's powers for an impulsive act of self-mutilation. Cat Noir is distraught over this, turning desperate when Monarch first start toying with the idea and being near tears after he carries it out.

I'll get back to the impact of this event, but for now I'll point out that the aftermath is brief: After Monarch escapes, our heroes have this exchange:

LB: We had him, we almost had him! The kwamis were safe, they were right here! CN: I cataclysmed him! I can't believe this, I just cataclysmed someone! Granted it was Monarch, but - there was a real person behind that mask, and it must have hurt him terribly! Milady, you gotta fix this! LB: Cat Noir, Monarch just ran away with my lucky charm! Without it, I can't fix anything. I can't call on my powers and undo the effect of the cataclysm. There's nothing I can do...

We then cut to the slumber party, where Marinette tells Alya that she and Cat Noir "split up" immediately after, and Alya comforts her. From this point in the episode, Cat Noir and Adrien only appear in flashbacks. First a fifty-second flashback wherein Marinette sets up her convoluted plans, then a few seconds of him moving his statue in the wax museum before Monarch appears.

In the episode that more than anything should thematise Adrien, Plagg's powers, and his relationship to his father, Adrien is on screen for a whooping four minutes and twenty seconds.

And because I am that devoted to proving my point, I went and timed all of Alya's on-and-off appearances, which clocked in at a total of five minutes and six seconds.

Alya is of course core to the slumber party which frames the setting of the entire episodes. Moreover, it is with Alya that the emotional arc of the episode ends: it starts with Marinette tormenting hersef watching a Ladyblog report about Monarch's recent win, for which Alya chastises her. The last scene (before Gabriel pulverises the miraculous) has Alya reassure Marinette that she will get the kwamis back. When she regrets her lack of superpowers, Marinette in turn reassures her that Alyas true superpower is being her friend. The journey of the episode was for Marinette to stop blaming herself for messing up, and learning to rely on Alya's support in the new turn the war has taken.

...

IN THE EPISODE WHERE ADRIEN KILLS HIS FATHER.

III. SIR NOT-APPEARING-IN-THIS-FILM

In the episode where Gabriel commits suicide on his son's miraculous, here are some things that got more screentime than the son forced into using his only source of liberation to kill his father:

Flashbacks to past events (four minutes and fourty-five seconds)

Alya (five minutes six seconds)

The kwamis (six minutes and nine seconds)

Bet you can't guess which one is the only kwami who doesn't appear in this episode!

...okay, and Duusu, but you get the point. In the episode detonating the nuke that is the gruesome potential of Plagg's powers, and the potential damage Adrien might deal with them, Plagg never appears on screen.

In the episode highlighting the presence of the kwamis and their importance to their holders, the kwami whose presence is the most thematically tied to his holder's character arc is completely absent.

In the episode irreparably going into the only kwami whose powers is straight up murder, the kwami who The Guardians have singled out specifically as particularly dangerous, the kwami whose irresponsible nature has previously caused problems both to Adrien privately and Cat Noir professionally, said kwami is never even mentioned.

It's almost as if we're not supposed to remember that it is because of his presence that this whole tragedy was possible.

IV. THE EXISTENCE-DEFINING HORROR OF A CATACLYSM GONE WRONG

And ain’t that a funny one, when the gruesome potential in Plagg’s powers was the driving factor in Adrien’s first true crisis as a hero?

Marinette faced her moment in "Origins", where she gave up on her miraculous after the first disastrous attempt. She knows that she is the only one who can do something about the situation, but refuses out of her own lacking courage. She only becomes Ladybug of her own choice when she realises that she can save Alya's life. After this, Marinette never again questioned her place. She would grieve the burden on occasion, but she never once thought anyone else could do better.

Adrien, as we all know, was the polar opposite: he jumped right into it without reading the manual, had to have Ladybug pick up the pieces after a rash cataclysm, and never doubted his calling again until he realised what Plagg’s powers could do when used on a living being.

The NYC special has Adrien quit for reasons that had nothing to do with being unsatisfied with Ladybug's HR policies. It is in part because he effed up his duty as Paris' substitute guardian, but it's certainly also because of the recent horror he just witnessed: his hand forced by someone else nearly killed Ladybug, and killed Uncanny Valley instead as she stepped between them. Adrien just saw a mother weeping over her daughter's corpse, and how only the lucky presence of Ladybug's powers could undo the damage caused by his, unintentional thought it might have been. Adrien would of course never kill anyone on purpose, but Uncanny Valley’s temporary malfunction was a brutal display of what would happen if he stumbled the wrong direction with the gun loaded. Ladybug might have the duty to protect Paris, but Cat Noir has the duty to not to disintegrate people on touch.

The show never before discussed the weight of this burden in Adrien’s presence. “Cat Blanc” did it from Marinette’s side, but this never was a consistent story thread, only briefly brought up as her remembering why his knowing her identity is a bad idea. The sabbatical in “Kuro Neko” has nothing to do with Plagg or with Adrien’s sense of duty, and where you’d think this would be where Marinette finally brings up the issue bridging the NYC special and “Cat Blanc”, neither of the two are as much as alluded to. That Adrien has the power of murder has yet to be explicitly discussed in the show proper, but in combination with his personal relationship to Hawkmoth being a ticking irony bomb, the question of can he even bear it is inevitable.

That Adrien’s post as Cat Noir wasn’t as given as Marinette’s as Ladybug is echoed in the amount of times that Adrien has either quit or at least contemplated doing so (“Syren”, NYC special, “Wishmaker”, “Kuro Neko”). He likes being Cat Noir more than Marinette likes being Ladybug, but he lacks her iron certainty in the role. It is notable, then, that THE ONE TIME where Marinette questions her part, it is after Cat Noir has quit. She says this, out loud, in words. When Cat Noir’s powers become too heavy for Adrien to carry, then Ladybug, too, disappears.

So surely "Destruction" must be the point where this is finally comes together - where Adrien's history of quitting meets his ultimate crisis, where his powers abused on a human being of flesh and blood forces him into confronting the potential cost of being this particular hero, which will foreshadow the ultimate choice he’ll have to take: between being Cat Noir and being his father’s son. And where his choice, in turn, will define whether Ladybug can exist.

Or not.

Maybe we'll never again have Adrien think about how he probably murdered a man. Maybe we'll just - oh I don't know.

Have him start trying to cataclysm people?

Repeatedly?

While showing none of the horror at himself which he clearly had in the aftermath of accidentally cataclysming the villain responsible for his later victims’ possession?

And in the end, after never calling attention to Adrien’s new and trigger happy ways, we’ll have him give in to his fear, claim that he isn’t strong enough to responsibly use Plagg’s powers, and send his miraculous away for Ladybug to use alone, because it turns out that “Kuro Neko” was right and the NYC special was wrong: she can be Ladybug without him.

Growth, amirite.

V. IN THIS HOUSE WE DON’T TALK ABOUT PATRICIDE

Dramatic irony was the main engine driving "Miraculous Ladybug" from the start, and it was Adrien who bore the brunt of it. Not only did he spend four and a half seasons in unrequited love with a girl who rejected him for himself; he spent five seasons doing weekly battle against his own father.

The superpower war between father and son isn't just a source of story tension, however: it is inextricably mirrored in their relationship as family, where the father is openly abusive and the son is magically incapable of protesting. The show repeatedly makes A Point about how the freedom Adrien so wants, is one that he only gets through being Cat Noir, and the only way Adrien is capable of fighting his father - albeit ignorant of it - is with Plagg's powers.

Cat Noir defeating Hawkmoth was necessary not just for his story as a superhero, but as his character arc as a normal boy.

And in "Destruction", this is exactly what happens. Thanks to Plagg's powers, the path to Adrien's freedom is finally paved, in the most gruesome and unwanted manner possible. Adrien might not get the big cathartic show-down with his evil father, but technically he was the one to bring him down.

But we don't talk about that. Except for his one (1) line after Monarch escapes with Ladybug's lucky charm, Adrien never again brings up the fact that his being careless with a cataclysm certainly maimed a man, by precedent (Aeon) possibly killed him. Rather than a story arc about Adrien being afraid of his own powers, it’s only now that he starts aiming it at people when he’s under emotional duress. This could of course have been one hell of a story point if it was intentional, but by all accounts, it wasn’t. When Adrien never again reflects on his having probably murdered a man, or reasons that Monarch is probably fine since he’s clearly still around so maybe a cataclysm isn’t so bad, and he never dwells on his nearly murdering two of his friends, there can’t have been any connection intended here. Moreover: when Adrien is scared of his miraculous towards the end, it’s not about its capacity for normal murder when he’s having a bad day, but its capacity of ending the world if he happens to be akumatised.

Gabriel is likewise disinterested in the cause of his impending disintegration. You’d think the man would feel some kind of special resentment towards Cat Noir and his powers, you could think this was where he’d get to re-thinking his relationship to the two people who are sitting on the keys to solving all his problems. Maybe he’d start doubting himself now, bearing the ultimate testament to his magical hubris. But no. The cataclysm wound is there and it’s a problem, but the reason it happened is completely irrelevant to the man who did this to himself and unknowingly, to his son.

That is almost as mind-blowing as the fact that they really had a straight up patricide happen on screen. Sure, death was never the intention of either of the two parties, and Adrien certainly holds no blame for what happened. But Gabriel must have at least known what he was risking, and even if the soft-hearted Adrien would somehow reason away the gravity, Plagg would certainly now. By its very nature, this one cataclysm drags out and distils a plethora of questions about both Adrien’s role as Cat Noir, about Gabriel’s vision of himself and his goals, and about their relationship not as father and son, but as villain and hero. The gruesome narrative irony looming over all this is in that regard just the icing on the cake.

There is certainly an Oedipal layer to the drama of Gabriel and Adrien, though the often more scandalous incestuous angle is considerably downplayed here. Even so: By the denouement of S5, Adrien has successfully killed his father and set up a home with his mother. That really happened, but we’re sure not going to investigate how this influenced the relationship between two nemesis, between father and son, between Adrien and his kwami.

The cataclysm in “Destruction” turned Adrien from anguished shoujo love interest to the hero of a greek tragedy, but the show is dead set on pretending that it didn’t.

VI. SO THEN WHAT WAS THE POINT

In isolation, "Destruction" comes across as weird more than anything. It's named after Adrien's kwami, it spends an inordinate amount of screentime on Adrien's father, it reaches back to Adrien's perhaps most defining moment as Cat Noir as it fundamentally changes the game between our heroes and our villains as one of them is finally dealt a damaging blow - which in turn sets Adrien's life down a path towards tragedy that must be interfered with for him to have a happy ending by the end of the season.

And yet, Adrien is a peripheral presence in it. Marinette and Gabriel dominate the screentime, Alya and the kwamis are consistently present as the thematic chorus at their respective sides throughout, the episode plays its events twice in order to make it clear that Ladybug is too clever for Monarch's miraculous, the emotional arcs that are followed are the follow-up on where Marinette and Alya stand after the disaster in "Strike Back" as well as Gabriel's renewed vigour. Adrien's only contribution to the episode is to follow Ladybug's instructions and to make clear that his relationship with his father is still awkward. The episode depicts probably THE most important event of the show, but this event is treated almost as an afterthought, and the horrors of it are confined to one (1) line of dialogue from Cat Noir.

The only thing in “Destruction” that is brought up in later episodes is that Gabriel is now actively dying. If they wanted for Gabriel to live on a countdown for his date with the grim reaper, there were countless other ways about it: Have it be his use of too many miraculous which backfires, have him having used the peacock before it was fixed, have it be too much evil on the hands of Nooroo, have him get a serious call from his doctor, have him screw up Tomoe's machinery, have him develop a drug problem. This is a fictional narrative; its twists and turns are absolutely in the hands of the writers, teenage girls being irredeemable or not. It was never vital that this happened by cataclysm specifically.

So what was the point, then? Did we truly turn our magical girl show into a Greek tragedy for the shocked pikachu faces only?

The one thing I somehow haven't seen people bring up, is that "Destruction" makes it impossible for Adrien to learn Monarch's identity. According to the writers themselves, the reason lies in two of the other episodes named after him: "Cat Blanc" and "Ephemeral", wherein he learns his father's identity and is promptly akumatised. This is of course bullshit: both these cases relied not on Adrien learning his father's identity, but on Gabriel specifically scheming to traumatise Adrien with both the Hawkmoth reveal AND the fact that he's been living in the same house as his mother's dead body for the last year or two (timeline here is spectacularly contradictory). There was anothing inevitable about this. You're the writers. You could've set up a scenario where Adrien didn't learn about his father's crimes as an act of psychological warfare, and where he'd have the time to absorb it, to grieve and to find support by the time he'd confront him with it. Having every person close to Adrien keep life-defining secrets from him “for his own good” is, by god, not a good look on anyone involved here. Still it’s understanable, at least for those who aren't either adults or gods of destruction.

"Destruction", however, serves as an explanation for the gaping plot hole in the epilogue: Marinette tells Alya, she tells Su-Han. The one she doesn't tell, though?

The partner who was at her side before Alya or Su-Han ever appeared, and stood by her in far worse storms. Because telling Cat Noir the truth would mean telling Cat Noir that he dealt Gabriel Agreste the killing blow, and ain't that a nifty way to ensure that Marinette won't. Because if Adrien does learn Monarch's identity and the truth about his fall in future seasons, Emilie better hide those garment pins.

The truly damning part of "Destruction" isn't so much what the episode itself does. It's what it doesn't do. It's the storylines it cuts short and leaves behind, and it is the storyline it by its very existence introduces, but which the show refuses to touch.

Per title and content both, "Destruction" should be the culmination of thematic storylines from "Cat Blanc", the NYC special and "Kuro Neko". It’s not; it’s not even about Adrien, and Plagg isn’t even present in it. Moreover: its lacking presence on future episodes make it painfully evident that ambitions, there were none. Those storylines were either aborted like Adrien picking up Felix's spyglass in the S4 finale, or the show never did mean for there to be such a thing as "layers" to this story about a boy who becomes a hero to unknowingly break free from his superhero father.

The real reason why "Destruction" is the worst episode of Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir is that it obliterates the most cohesive character arc this show had going for it, and that this was done on purpose.

#miraculous ladybug #ml criticism #mlb meta #blah #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste #storytelling #mira

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