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eulangelo · 3 years

Text

callout for @genderfluidlucifer

google docs

tw for transmisogyny + TERFs + emotional manipulation

Transmisogyny

Lucifer is a huge transmisogynist who will complain 24/7 about how TERFs hurt the ace community, but the moment @randomclustermissile , a trans girl (who is not an exclusionist at all) tries to point out transmisogyny in inclusionist circles (in the most vague and general way possible, without pointing fingers nor calling anyone names) Lucifer will immediatly jump to block her and so they did with me (another inclusionist) and i have to suppose to everyone else who agreed with that post, even arriving to vagueing about us in private group chats to suggest that we were “sympathizing with exclusionists”. all because we dared point out transmisogyny in inclusionist circles. lucifer is TME but apparently they think they’re the authority on TERFs and their talking points but actual trans women are not, according to them, since this is the stuff that they would go and spew to other people. (screenshots from @enbyoctoling)

here’s more examples of Lucifer (again, a transmasc person) going deep in detail about how according to them, TERFs/SWERFs hate aro/ace people and are an active threat to us

1. link

[Image ID: Three screenshots of a post by Genderfluidlucifer. The first screenshot is of a paragraph that reads, "Hey. So I can actually answer this. Anon your commentary about how you thought terfs would approve of sex repulsed aces is sort of it. Except...not. Basically terfs hate ace people for not wanting sex in the approved by terfs way. Terfs are actually extremely interested in [forcing] amatonormativity onto everyone. Because for as sex negative as terfs are...they don't want to actually acknowledge or change the fact that amatonormativity is at the root cause of rape culture and misogyny."

The second screenshot is a zoomed in section of the post that reads, "So yeah no I have NO idea where exclus allies are getting this idea from that terfs would even remotely care about the sexual rights of ace people. Terfs generally hate any sexualities in the LGBTQ+ acronym that aren't LGB because they can't force a gender binary onto those sexualities. At least, not as easily. That's why it's actually a massive sign of someone who doesn't call themselves a terf being a crypto terf if they use the term LGB in a positive manner. Along with the term SGA, as it is deliberately exclusive of nonbinary and not inherently SGA centric queer-aligned sexualities. /END ID]

link to the full post, these are just excerpts but the whole thing is just a very long rant about how TERFs hate ace people and so on (i think it’s worth noticing that although the actual post is kinda long, trans women are never once brought op in a conversation about TERFs issues and the only time transmisogyny is mentioned is not relevant to the conversation)

2. link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblog by genderfluidlucifer. The original poster is nothorses. It reads, "Because apparently I have to say it: Testosterone is not a 'violent' hormone. It doesn't make you 'more aggressive' or a worse person, it doesn't make you 'dangerous,' or 'toxic.' Transmascs do not need to be 'warned of the dangers of T.' We do not need to spend our transitions terrified that we're going to become a danger to those around us - that HRT is going to turn us into a monster.

Everyone experiences mood swings during hormonal shifts (pregnancy, menstruation, menopause, estrogen HRT, etc.) and while you might have grumpy moments or feel anger/frustration that you need to learn to handle differently, that doesn't make you a bad person.

Testosterone can change the way you access/process emotions somewhat, but if you're already thoughtful about how you handle your feelings and treat others, you're going to be fine. It's normal to lash out on occasion, by accident, then apologize and work to do better. It doesn't make you a bad person. Everyone on HRT is prone to this, and everyone experiencing hormonal changes is prone to this.

Getting HRT should be positive and affirming; you should not have to spend your entire transition terrified of becoming a monster."

The post then has a reblog by captainlordauditor that reads, "The big danger of T is that needle ouchy." /END ID]

here’s them reblogging from known transmisogynist user @nothorses (once again, the irony that a post about how testosterone is seen as the "aggressive hormone" does not mention transfem at all which are literally the main victims of this rethoric in the first place)

3. link (1), link (2)

[Image ID: Two screenshots of posts by genderfluidlucifer. The first screenshot reads, "Queer exclus: We're not repackaging terf rhetoric! Saying that is transmisogynistic! Also queer exclus: Remove the plus from LGBT!" and has tags that say, "I will pay these people to grow some god damn self awareness. Imagine being this dense. Queer discourse." The post has 15 notes.

The second screenshot reads, "Honestly it is so stupid and frustrating to see ace exclus continue to deny that the ace discourse was started by terfs. Proof was given countless times. And a big name terf like galesofnovember even admitted to starting it. Those of you who demand proof but ignore all of this never wanted proof to begin with." and is tagged with, "ace discourse. The post has 38 notes. /END ID]

heres another two post of theirs conflating TERFs with ace exclusionism

4. link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblogged post by furbearingbrick. The original poster is boxlizard, Lucifer's old account. The original post reads, "By the way for people still in denial about it, here's galesofnovember, a terf, admitting that she intended to start the ace exclus movement. She's taking credit for it. Normally if the victims of this behavior weren't ace/aro or other queer identities y'all be ready to rightfully lynch her. But since it's us, y'all just still wanna stamp your feet and go, 'Nuh uh!' instead of acknowledging facts." The part that says, "admitting that she intended to start the ace exclus movement" is a link to a galesofnovember post.

There is then a reblogged addition from furbearing brick that reads, "archived versions of the receipts" and has two links to the webarchive. The tags read, "Bringing this back since it's apparently still relevant. Terfism mention. Aphobia mention. Queerphobia mention. Blocklist." and has 1,455 notes. /END ID]

this is their post that ive already talked about but basically they found a 52 notes post made by a TERF in 2012 and this one person said "i dont know why i dont get to be the princess of the anti-ace-brigade" and apparently they are convinced that this means TERFs started the ace exclusionism movement and that this is one of their goals. which is insane when TERFs in real life only care about making life miserable for transfem people first and foremost.

5.link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblog by genderfluidlucifer. The original poster is yu-gay-fudo. It reads, “Just in case you happen to be unaware, some of the “radfem lite” they post to warm you up to their rhetoric, just off the top of my head:

- Ace/aro exclusionism

- Bi exclusionism or claims that bi people are “less queer” bc of “straight passive privilege”

- Saying you have to be dysphoric to identify as transInvalidating nonbinary people

- Calling queer a slur regardless of context, saying people can’t identify as queer, and saying that it can’t be reclaimed

- “Mogai hell”, “kweer”, or otherwise mocking less common labels and claiming they are “just cishets who want to feel special”

- Excluding sex workers from feminist discussions or claiming that sex work is inherently evil

- Basically anyone who thinks they can determine what other people identify as”. The tags read, "queerphobia tw. twerfs tw. no id." and has 70,727 notes. It was reblogged on March 22nd, 2021 /END ID]

another example of conflating radfems to things that, while wrong, have little to nothing to do with them because being a radfem, again, is something very specific that has all to do with transfem oppression.

Emotional manipulation

Lucifer has done nothing but block, break boundaries, spread lies and vague about people, some of which were even mutuals with them knowing they would see the posts. when confronted about it Lucifer's only answer was "just say you hate me and block me" but they actually ended up blocking everyone first, making it impossible for anyone to set some boundaries with them or even just to calmly confront them about anything.

[proof: Io(popncourse) and Lucifer had a disagreement in a shared discord server, which prompted Lucifer to vague Io in a vent post. Io confronted them, as being vagued is one of buns triggers, to which Lucifer initially agreed to delete the vent post, but then proceeded to victimize themself and immediatly blocked Io. later on, Jude(malewifedeckard) was confronted by Lucifer, then after Jude told them “I’m worried that you’ll vague me just like you did with Io” they proceeded to block Jude and vagued about him too. when Io made a post (which was not a callout, it was just bun setting buns boundaries) explaining what Lucifer did, Lucifer immediatly jumped to victimize themself, acting like they were being called out and straight-up lying, even going so far as to say that no one tried to hear them out, which is a blatant lie if you consider the aforementioned Io and Jude’s attempts at doing so, with Lucifer immediatly blocking and cutting ties with the both of them. ]

(screenshots taken by @popncourse and @malewifedeckard)

as seen in the proof above Lucifer’s behaviour is not ok because they don’t accept any kind of confrontation and immediatly jump to blocking, and after blocking, they'd immediatly go and vague about the people who confronted them pacificly, spreading more lies and painting themself as the victim and even arriving to say “no one hears me out at all” which is simply not something you can say when you block people who are trying to hear you out in the first place.

this is by no means an invitation to go and harass them, send them hate or anything like that. i absolutely don’t want anything even remotely hateful or negative to be sent their way after this post.

this post was only made because:

1. as an ace person who fully supports the inclusion of aspec identities in the lgbt+ community i don’t want to support an enviroment that costantly downplays transmisogynistic oppression in order to be taken seriously. there are hundreds of ways to make aspec activism without acting like we(as in TME aspecs)are the victims of a system that seeks for the annihilation of transfemenine people in real life everyday. i especially don’t want to support TME individuals who act transfem-friendly but then block any transfem who tries to speak on transmisogyny without a second thought.

2. Lucifer’s behaviour has hurt two friends of mine and i don’t want to associate with someone who actively breaks people’s boundaries without taking accountability when messing up.

3. i cannot associate with someone who spreads lies about me accusing me of sympathizing with exclusionists all while having me blocked so that i can’t see it nor defend me. they complain about people not hearing them out but they’re the very first person who does not try to hear people out, and instead jumps to spread baseless rumors. this is not someone i can nor want to associate with.

(image descriptions provided by @malewifedeckard)

#genderfluidlucifer #transmisogyny tw #terfs tw #ask to tag #txt #long post #ok to rb

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laundryandtaxes · 3 years

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If you’re already at the point of claiming that everyone who doesn’t agree with you about gender ideology is lying (whether maliciously or from fear or to themselves) then you’re committing yourself to operating entirely within your own echo chamber. Which is something you strenuously claim people shouldn’t do in lots of important areas in life so maybe think about what’s going on with that.

Look, you are so deep into something that you think I'm being sneaky by saying exactly what I mean out loud. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. The only way a reasonable person could reasonably come to believe an extraordinary claim would be on the basis of extraordinary evidence. It's an extraordinary claim that most people actively and strongly feel something that is noticeably similar to what a lot of queer people mean when they use the term "gender identity." Whether it seems extraordinary to the people making it, it is extraordinary. And so either they are unreasonable- that is, they believe an extraordinary claim despite the lack of extraordinary evidence, like people repeatedly mentioning this inner feeling- or they're lying and they don't believe the claim. There are plenty of people who fall into the first group. Plenty of people really do believe that not qctively experiencing a gender identity means something about the kind of person you are. But everyone who has ever tried to explain the concept of gender identity to other people and found themselves talking to a brick wall knows based on anecdotal evidence that many,any people who are not transgender in aby meaningful way don't experience this phenomenon at all. And I have to imagine that most of the people who first worked to introduce the concept of this thing as a fundamental feature of the self to the general population found themselves repeatedly running into said brick wall of other people not experiencing this thing- otherwise the concept wouldn't have needed to be introduced. I'm not trying to be mean or sneaky, I'm literally being as open and honest as it is possible to be. Other people are allowed to disagree, but I think anyone who makes this claim is either wrong, which includes plenty of people, or lying, which includes plenty of others.

The concept that I'm operating in anything like an echo chamber is genuinely laughable and you have absolutely no reason to have reached that conclusion other than presuming that it's the only way I could have reached my current position. I have friends who vehemently disagree with me on all manner of things- not just gender politics, but politics broadly, specific major policy points like guns, etc. I regularly make some efforts to talk to people I disagree with on a number of issues. Almost all of my friends are some variety of LGBT, and many are actively identified with the general queer ethos and politics which I so strongly dislike. If I'm in any echo chamber, it's one that is exactly the opposite of the strawman echo chamber you've constructed. The fact of the matter is I've talked to a lot of peoppe about whether they experience anything remotely similar to what I understand a gender identity to be, and the fact is that the vast majority have said they don't, and if people have told you otherwise I suspect they are largely lying to be nice, which is a thing people do very often.

#the amount of autocorrwct this took

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mewtonian-physics · 3 years

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Please use this to go in detail abt why you think Raiden is one of most decent and kindest of the mgs characters I need to hear from the foremost Raiden Expert(tm)

okay so first of all i'm going to print this ask and put it on my wall like a doctoral certificate, anon-certified Foremost Raiden Expert(tm) /joke but i am quite flattered by this description.

now to what you came for. i shall go into detail on this subject and i shall do it by going through his entire canon timeline. let's fucking go. reminder that this is going to get into in-depth descriptions of all the fucked up parts of raiden's storyline (of which there are many) so read with caution. if you want mood music then just put this video on loop and you're good to go

so obviously we don't know anything about what raiden was like when he was very very young before solidus got to him. presumably he was a sweet kid though. i mean he was probably like five or six when everything started going to hell. that's around the time that most kids learn to read. (although personally i hc him as getting an early start on that because the other likely option is too depressing. he's got enough going on already.) my point is i bet he was a good kid. of course then solidus happened, and we all know how that went. if anyone blames raiden for what happened at that point then they can fucking fight me, he was a scared little kid who was horribly abused, kept drugged, and probably full-on brainwashed into fighting a war that had nothing to do with him because otherwise he would die. that has absolutely no bearing on his personality except as a contrast which we will get into later. moving along to the next part of his life that we know.

so he repressed his memories of the war (with 'help' from the patriots) and tried (largely unsuccessfully) to live a normal life. we know even at that point that his view of himself was fucked up, and he was having nightmares constantly enough that he had at least vague memories, although he didn't understand them. (yet.) and yet he knows enough to hate his own past and want to keep it a secret, because even if he doesn't understand it, he knows it's awful. keep that in mind. once he was presumably deprogrammed from solidus's bullshit, he regretted and hated everything he did, and himself for doing it (even though it was not his fault in the slightest). despite everything, he becomes a very different person with a much more fully formed moral compass. rose describes him quite unflatteringly at this point in his life but let's be real. it's rose. can't take a word she says at face value unless it's backed up by someone who doesn't spend practically all of their screen time lying through their teeth. also does 'horribly cold' with a 'violent nature' and an 'empty heart' actually sound that much like raiden to you? because if it does then stay tuned, it won't by the end of this post (and if it still does then you weren't paying attention, go back and read it again)

so we reach mgs2. at this point raiden is probably around 26 years old and doesn't remember half of his life, which really does a number on your mental stability and sense of identity. keep in mind also that he did not get the opportunity to mentally and emotionally develop in the same way as the average individual, on account of, you know, being brainwashed into a remorseless killer. he had to relearn (or learn for the first time) a lot of concepts including things that most of us take as a given (the very idea of right and wrong, which certainly wouldn't have been a luxury afforded to him during the war.) some quick equations suggest that he was fourteen at the end of the war, so he's had twelve years to learn all this instead of twenty-six. (with that in mind, he's doing remarkably well.)

(note here please that i do not count optional things that the player can do towards characterization. cutscenes or it didn't happen. that's an exaggeration, but you get my point. i'm not about to claim raiden is some kind of weird sadist who enjoys killing seagulls and will cheerfully shoot snake while he's sleeping. that would be fucked up and also blatantly in contradiction of actual canon characterization.)

right off the bat he immediately displays concern for rose's wellbeing considering that she's an analyst being suddenly involved in an extremely intense field mission. actually, a lot of his interactions with her throughout the game are further evidence in his favor--he can't even bring himself to tell her that she can't cook! (maybe a bit too nice for his own good.)

he also has a memorable conversation with snake (in his disguise as pliskin) in which he displays horror at how 'pliskin' utterly brushes off the deaths of his 'friends'. he feels sadness at the loss of these men he's literally never interacted with, and is shocked that their supposed friend doesn't. this is pretty typical of him moving forward.

he even displays genuine concern for president johnson, including after what the bastard did to him. (definitely too nice for his own good.) i could get further into this scene but i don't want to talk about it. fuckin' hate it here.

next, emma. this one is a hallmark moment in terms of him being kind. it stands out. emma is terrified of water, and he needs to get her through flooded corridors in order to try and stop arsenal gear. he could be a complete asshole here and do something like knock her out and take her then, or get mad at her and tell her to get over it (which... i'm going to be real... sounds a lot more like something snake might do). but he doesn't. he's incredibly patient with her and helps calm her down and even comes up with a way to help minimize her fear so that she can get through it without even having to look at the water. he even listens to her talk about her childhood and attempts to empathize with her despite the fact that he can't even remember his own. it's a really sweet moment from him and it cannot be overlooked.

continuing on. he immediately forgives snake for turning on him (even though it could have gotten him killed) and tells olga that no one can blame her for doing horrible things while trying to protect her child. he seems truly upset at her later death. and he still worries about rose even after he finds out she's been lying to him and using him for the past two years. and he immediately volunteers to help snake and otacon again at the end of the game--if snake hadn't flat-out refused him, he might have stuck with them for quite a while.

all in all, mgs2 paints us a picture of a deeply troubled man who still shows genuine kindness and concern for the people around him, even those who hurt him, and in incredibly stressful situations on top of that. and it just keeps going!

now, we don't have a whole lot of info on what happened to him between mgs2 and mgs4 (and most of what we do have comes from rose, who, again, is the very definition of an unreliable source.) what we do know for certain, however, paints another very flattering picture.

i do fully believe that his mental health spiraled after mgs2. how could it not, after all the shit he went through? he had years of horrific trauma shoved in his face and then went through some more incredibly traumatic events on top of that. and then rose lies about having a miscarriage. for any excited future parent, but especially for someone who loves kids as much as raiden clearly does, this would have been yet another level of pure devastation. and yet in the middle of all this, what does he do? he goes to repay the woman who saved his life, takes on an incredibly dangerous mission going up against the people who used him like a pawn for years and dehumanized him to hell and back (one that snake had even said he'd handle himself) and rescues sunny. when his health starts to get worse, he leaves her with people he trusts.

and then he gets forcibly converted into a cyborg, an act which would play into his deepest fears about himself. it would have been completely understandable at this point if he'd just given up entirely; after all the horror he's been through, it's a miracle that he's even alive, much less fighting. but no. instead he turns the patriots' own actions against them and goes to protect snake.

it is important to consider that many of his actions during this game are also driven by his intense depression, ptsd, and self-hatred, along with the other plethora of mental health issues that come part and parcel with everything he's been through. but at the same time, it's impossible to deny that his actions show a genuine care for others. he doesn't have to. no one would blame him if he didn't. but he's still willing to sacrifice everything and suffer horrible pain in order to protect everyone. even when he's scared. even when it would certainly kill him in a horrific way.

also, i can't ignore the fact that he thinks of sunny and how much she cares about him on shadow moses island. he apologizes to her before cutting his own arm off. he's thinking about how upset she'd be to see him hurt. there are a thousand other things he could be thinking about, but he thinks about her, and feels guilty for doing something that will hurt her, too. (they are siblings, your honor.)

the ending of the game is another example of him being too nice for his own good because really after two games of being lied to and manipulated by rose no one would blame him for cutting her out of his life. but he doesn't. he forgives her, again. and let's not forget the love and care with which he treats his son even though they've never met before. (raiden dad of the year award. dad of the ever, actually.)

now for the most controversial part. revengeance.

this is about the point where a concerning number of people start characterizing raiden as this trigger-happy sadomasochistic lunatic who just wants to slaughter everything in his path. either that, or they're saying he has a split personality who is a trigger-happy sadomasochistic lunatic who just wants to slaughter everything in his path, which is even worse, because it's bullshit AND it's playing into harmful and completely inaccurate stereotypes. let's not do that. and also characterization-wise it's just plain wrong. (but my essay on the true nature of raiden's fragmented identity can wait for another day.)

but i counter this errant belief with the argument that in fact, revengeance is perhaps the biggest example as to why raiden is one of the most moral and kindhearted characters in the series.

from the beginning, we find out that he's taken a job with a pmc to provide for his family. not exactly his dream environment. he's trying to keep it as combat-free as possible ('one sword keeps another in the sheath') but obviously that doesn't work out so well for him.

(as a side note, the serial markings on his body in the prologue are the only ones that don't majorly piss me off. they have the numbers, but then they say 'protector'. and i know they aren't actually referring to him as a person, but... damn right he is. he's earned that label, 100%.)

people act like he totally snaps after n'mani is killed, but that's just not true. his mental health does start to spiral somewhat, but it mostly manifests in him mimicking society's dehumanization of both hostile cyborgs and himself. (he starts slipping back into treating himself as a weapon. never a good sign with him.) he's angry, but he's just as angry with himself as he is with desperado, and he isn't intentionally targeting them; it's pure coincidence that they're involved in abkhazia, and the same in guadalajara. (and by coincidence, i mean the plot sort of demands it.)

guadalajara is where things really start to go downhill, and for obvious reasons. (another side note, the fact that he had blade wolf reconstructed and freed from his restraints? seems pretty kind, don't you think? he definitely didn't need to, but he did anyway. he knows what it's like to want to be free.)

meeting george is where things get bad for him, and also where his sense of morality and care for others starts showing through. he immediately runs in to save george without checking the area at all, which results in combat with way tougher UGs than a couple of dwarf gekkos. when he talks to george afterwards, his demeanor completely changes--he starts using different speech patterns, his voice is softer, and he's genuinely concerned for george's wellbeing. he only gets intense again when he hears about the lab, after which he immediately heads for it as quickly as possible.

(the pure horror on his face when he sees the room with all the brains will live with me forever, i think.)

when he sees the kids in danger, he actually briefly panics. this isn't something we see from him very often at this point--he didn't even panic after getting completely mutilated during his fight with sam. and then when that scientist shows up with george, he's torn, up until george specifically says to kill the scientist and not worry about him. even then, raiden asks if he's absolutely sure before he makes a move.

we find out after the fact that he wasn't even thinking clearly during that scene; he was so furious that he couldn't think about anything except how much he wanted the scientist dead, according to him. except that isn't really true. he was clearly thinking about more than that, or he wouldn't have asked george if he was certain. and after killing the scientist, he immediately rushes to save george, and succeeds not only in doing so but in retrieving the other half of his body as well. despite painting himself as slipping back into his 'ripper' tendencies, he shows clear remorse for the outcome, even as george is absolutely delighted with it.

raiden then quits maverick so that they don't get dragged into his next actions, because this is where he starts actively breaking the law ('just because it's legal doesn't mean it's right'--moral compass as steady as ever!) and they don't need to be involved in it. even now he still hasn't 'snapped'. despite the denver police being horribly corrupt and working for desperado, he struggles with the idea of killing them after sam starts messing with his mind. they're literally trying to kill him, and he can barely bring himself to fight back. the amount of decency he shows to people who don't deserve it in the slightest is amazing. (it's also dead wrong and totally misguided, but i'm still impressed.)

and then we get to the part where i suppose you could say he 'snaps'. sam and monsoon push him to the breaking point (like idiots) and he gives up on himself. he slips back into the persona solidus created for him, and slaughters monsoon's lackeys along with the man himself.

this is the point where i want to bring back what i said earlier about contrast. as a child, he was trained to kill indiscriminately. no concern, no moral compass, just killing whoever he was told to kill. i've said it before, and i'll say it again--this is a villain origin story. after the amount of horror he's gone through in his life, his fight with monsoon is where you would expect him to really, truly snap and become the person solidus brainwashed him into being.

but he doesn't.

he takes great delight in killing monsoon, that's true. but despite the horror he feels at his own actions, he's completely wrong. he hasn't truly become the 'jack the ripper' that solidus created. on the surface, yes--but look deeper. look at the way he says 'no' right before it all happens. look at the way he specifically says 'i don't want this for anyone else' after the fight. look at how he still focuses on his original goal, he doesn't lose sight of it. he's not in this for the sake of killing. he's in this for the sake of protecting the weak, the innocent children that no one else will. throughout the entire game, he never loses sight of his ultimate goal: to protect the weak, and uphold the ideal of justice. all he does is accept that there is still a part of him that enjoys fighting and killing, and then channels that for good. he lets himself be furious at the monsters who are doing these awful things. he hasn't 'snapped' at all. he's just finally letting himself feel the things he's been repressing for so many years. he doesn't kill indiscriminately. he kills those who are preying on the weak.

despite the title, the game is less about revenge than you might think. it's about protection. ultimately, the things raiden does in this game are to prevent atrocities and save the people who can't save themselves. and if he gets a little enjoyment out of it, hey. that doesn't change the fact that he's still the undeniable hero of the story. he's still a decent, moral, kind person. he's just stopped extending that to monsters. and good for him, i say.

also, i have to bring up sunny while i'm talking about revengeance. i can't put into words how amazing the scene with her is, but the sheer amount of genuine affection between her and raiden is incredible.

and as a final note of evidence, remember her last available codec call? even in the midst of being beaten to hell and back, raiden shows compassion for so many people, and very specifically reassures her, trying to make her feel better and keep her from worrying about him. 'come on. let me see a smile.'

#ask #anon #i could write a lot more on this probably but it's 2 am and i think i got the major points down. god i love raiden #snake who. raiden is the hero of metal gear solid

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opinated-user · 2 years

Text

it just occured to me that i never fully explained how deeply wrong this ask (https://lily-orchard.tumblr.com/post/692207852489703424/as-a-trans-man-i-really-dont-like-that-you-paint) actually is.

As a trans man, I really don't like that you paint hair cutting as something that's just a bad trope. I and a couple of my trans/nonbinary friends cut our hair during our gender exploration. I can't speak for them, obviously, but it was a huge moment of euphoria for me. Obviously there are bad reasons for a character to cut their hair, but cutting it for gender exploration makes sense.

LO answered: I get that, but the trope is so ubiquitous and so many characters start with unique and interesting designs only to be given the same two or three haircuts that it bothers me on a fundamental level.

It’s not that it’s a bad trope, it’s that so many people’s idea of character development starts and ends at “Okay but like… what if they buzzed their head?”

what LO actually did here was to tell a trans man that cutting hair ruins an interesting design for a female character. this is annoying already because, as we know, the only change rey's LO has in comparison with the original is that now she uses her hair loose but otherwise there's no actual design at all. all the credit still goes for whoever was in charge of the costumes in the movie. LO's lying on that front. but then she doesn't realize or cares to think about the implications of telling any of this to a trans man who was already uncomfortable with her handling the issue. i can't speak for that anon, but if trans women are punished by society for trying to approach feminity (like by negating them having long hair, like LO claims is her case) then trans men are punished for rejecting feminity (refusing to have long hair). of course that every trans man has their own style and long or short hair is not the end all when it comes to gender or presentation, but a common experience for that demographic is to be told things like "you were prettier when you were a girl" by people who refuse to accept their identity. transphobic groups and people might even go so far as to lament how trans men/non binary afab people have "ruined" their bodies by transitioning or how they must have "internalized misogyny" to do something like that. this is a different kind of transphobia that trans women are usually exposed to but it's very insidious and normalized. when LO says that a gender non conforming masculine rey (non binary or trans man) will never have short hair because that's misogynistic and it would be inherently worse for her looks, she's invoking the same rethoric and narrative from those groups. again, can't speak for that anon, but if any trans person felt uncomfortable with how LO goes about this issue this is the reason why. she's not just reaching for anything to try to make her point more valid, she's actively participating on a form of transphobic microagression the more she tries to justify her preferences. once again, just for clarity's sake: none of this would matter if LO just said it's her preference or that she's uncomfortable writing about cutting hair because of her own experience. nobody would judge her for that. but when she uses that specific kind of argument, that female characters should embrace longer hair or else their interesting designs are "ruined", all i hear are the kind of women who post on social media about how Elliot Page now is ugly, looks unhealthy and was a lot more attractive as a woman. the fact that she said that to a trans man speaks volumes of the kind of ignorance that LO carries with her about anyone that isn't what immediately concerns to herself.

#lily orchard

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icerosecrystal · 4 years

Text

Daminette - How to Fail Being a Parent 101

(3rd Person POV)

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The girl that went from having everything to nothing. At least, that’s what it felt like right now. She still had Jagged and Penny, supporting her. But her parents threw her out of the house after the believed Lila’s lies. The shiny new thing over their daughter! Her friends also thought of her as a bully. At the age of 17, Marinette had no friends and no family. But little did she know that everything was soon going to change for her.

(Edna Mode’s POV)

Enda Mode was a great designer. But, she wanted, no needed an apprentice to carry her legacy. When Jagged Stone, along with his assistant Penny and Clara, told her of their designer MDC, she was ecstatic. And her designs were beautiful. Yes, MDC had the right amount of talent to be Edna’s apprentice. All she had to was find her.

She was walking to the bakery in Paris, where Jagged said his niece would most likely be. She arrived at the bakery and opened the door walking inside. There were two people inside. She asked them, “Hello, darlings. Do you, by any chance, know where Marinette is?”

She watched as both of the people stiffened, and then the female replied, “No, we used to be her parents, but we no longer consider her a daughter!”

Edna was confused by that. As far as Jagged said, Marinette’s parents had a good relationship with her. So what changed? She then once more asked, “Do you where I might be able to find her, darlings?”

Marinette’s supposed mother grew angry, “Who cares where she is! And if you’re trying to find her. You must be one of the bad influences that Lila was talking about, so get out of our bakery!”

Edna huffed and turned on her heel, walking out of the bakery door. Once she was outside, she pulled out her phone and called Jagged. “Jagged, I tried to go to the bakery, but her parents said that they kicked her out. Or at least they implied it by saying that she was no longer their daughter.”

“What?! That’s so not rock-and-roll! Hmm, well, Marinette did buy a safe house. If I remember correctly, the address is nineteen dauphin bleu. Good luck, and let me know when you find her.”

“Sure sure, darling,” Edna replied before ending the phone call. She quickly went to the address in hopes of finding her.

(Marinette’s POV)

Marinette was not sulking! She swears she isn’t! She’s just sad that her parents didn’t believe her. And hadn’t been doing anything for the past two days other than eating and watching shitty rom-coms… Okay, maybe she was sulking. But could you blame her! Her parents believed a liar over her, plus she had shitty coping skills with Hawkmoth still around. Before Hawkmoth, she would have cried for hours on end while eating strawberry ice cream. Now, she couldn’t do that at risk of an akumatization, and she was Ladybug. Fuck Hawkmoth, fuck Lila, fuck her stupid hormones.

The doorbell then rang. Marinette dragged herself to the door, not stopping to look through the peek hole. She regretted that because once she opened the door, on the other side, she found THE EDNA MODE. Marinette jumped in surprise and started to try and fix her appearance while rambling, “Oh my god, you’re Edna Mode. I’m so sorry! I didn’t know it was going to be you at the door! Otherwise, I would have made myself more presentable! Oh my god, it’s you!!! Most consider you better than Audrey Bourgeois, Style Queen herself. It is such an honor.”

Edna cut off Marinette’s rambling with a hand to her shoulder, “Please, darling, the pleasure all mine. I’m so happy to meet the famous MDC that Jagged, Clara, and Penny have been telling me so much about.” At hearing those words, Marinette looked seconds from passing out.

Edna followed Marinette to the couch and told her, “Now, I went to your parent’s bakery, but they said that they were no longer your parents. So, I want you to tell Auntie Edna everything! Okay?”

Marinette nodded, still in shock. She quickly shook her head to clear her head and then went on to explain about Lila. “There was this girl that came to my school three years ago. She claimed that she had an amazing life. And it would have been believable if all the things that she mentioned weren’t false. For example, she said that Jagged Stone wrote a song for her when she saved his cat from an airport runway. Jagged never had a cat. Civilians aren’t allowed on airport runways. And she’s making Jagged look like a pedophile, she’s underage, and he’s an adult. If she continues claiming this, Jagged could go to jail. There are a lot more unbelievable claims that she makes. Anyways, I knew she was lying, so I tried to disprove her lies. But, she covered it up. I went to the bathroom to cool down. Lila then came inside and confronted me, saying that she would take all my friends away. I didn’t think she would do it, I mean, I had faith in my friends.” Marinette’s voice cracked, and she started sobbing.

Edna waited for Marinette to continue talking. Marinette inhaled sharply and then continued, “My friends believed her over me. They knew me so much longer. But they picked the shinier thing. They bullied me every day, and Lila told them that I was bullying her. She made them beat me up, steal, and destroy my stuff. I thought that my parents would at least support me, but no, the wish of them supporting me was too much to ask. My parents also believed Lila over their daughter. THEIR DAUGHTER!!! They raised me, loved me, and then they believe someone else over me. At first, they started neglecting me, but then Lila came over one day and told them that I had given her death threat. After that, they kicked me out. I didn’t tell anyone not to feel weak. Now, here I am.”

Marinette finished talking and cried, letting loose all of the tears she had been holding in, but she then stopped. Enda looked at Marinette and told her something that shocked the daylights out of her, “Just because your Ladybug, that doesn’t mean you can’t let loose your emotions. If you bag all of it up, you will be at a larger risk of an akumitization. But, if you let your emotions out little by little, you won’t be as subjected to an akumitization.”

Marinette started stammering out excuses, shocked that Edna had figured it out, “O-oh I’m not Ladybug, I-i’m too clumsy to be her. L-ladybug has to be someone a-amazing to do what she d-does.”

Before she could continue, Edna held up her hand, effectively shutting Marinette up. “Marinette, darling, you don’t have to lie to me. Only an idiot would not be able to figure out your Ladybug. You look so much like her. (I did watch the NY special. And they did say that the magic of the miraculous is interfering with finding the identity of the heroes. But let’s pretend that the magic isn’t interfering, and everyone is just clueless. Well, they are clueless, but more clueless if possible.) Anyways, the reason that I was seeking you out in the first place was that I wanted you to be my apprentice. Would you like that?”

Marinette nodded, unable to speak. It was like a dream come true to her. When she rejected Audrey’s offer for an internship, she still had a reason to stay in Paris. Now that she had nothing left, this was the perfect way for her to get a new start, to leave her old life behind. Plus, who in their right mind would turn down being the apprentice of Edna Mode. Not an intern, an apprentice.

Edna clapped her hands together after Marinette gave her consent for being an apprentice. “That’s great, darling. Go pack everything you need. We’re leaving tomorrow at 6:00 AM.”

Marinette nodded, “Where will we be living?”

“Gotham City, New Jersey.”

(Time skip of a year)

(Edna’s POV)

It had been a year since Edna had gone to France to seek out Marinette or MDC. Since then, they moved to Gotham City, and Marinette made a name for herself there. She was an incredibly talented and a hard worker. She worked well under pressure and took criticism well. A lot of times, Marinette’s designs would bypass even her own. It would surprise Edna, but she was proud of her little coccinelle. She wanted to adopt Marinette, but she first wanted Marinette’s approval. For all Edna knew, Marinette wouldn’t want to have a parent figure again after what happened with her parents. Even if Edna didn’t adopt Marinette, she wanted Marinette to be the heir to Mode companies.

Today, Edna was meeting up with Bruce Wayne. He wanted him and his sons to get some suits, so today was the fitting. Marinette was with another client today so, she wouldn’t be meeting them. She heard the doorbell rang. That must be them, she thought. She opened the gates for them to enter the premises. A minute later, they were knocking on the front door. She let them in. When Edna saw them, she huffed at the height of all of the Wayne boys.

She went up to Bruce and beckoned him to bend down. Once he did saw, she greeted him with a kiss to each cheek and exclaimed “, Darling, I’m so glad that could make it. It’s so nice to see you and the rest of your boys.”

Bruce cleared his throat, “It’s nice to see you too, Edna. So, are we just doing measurements today, or are you also going to give us a design for the suits?”

“Ah, Bruce dear,” Edna started, “Art takes time. Plus, my amazing new apprentice will be designing your suits.”

Dick and Jason started laughing. “Look Bruce,” Dick guffawed, “She’s pulling a Bruce.” Tim laughed along with the other two, while Damian looked to be seconds away from smiling.

Bruce sighed, rubbing his forehead, “I’m sorry about them, Edna. You would think that a grown 30-year-old man would have some respect. I swear he has the maturity of a five-year-old.”

Edna waved him off, “Ah, it’s no harm done, Bruce. Dick is also right. I fully plan to adopt my apprentice. I only need her approval before I do so. I mean, she did turn eighteen only recently.”

Bruce looked shocked at this revelation, as did his sons, who were joking, not thinking in the slightest that it could be true. The great Edna Mode had never taken in an apprentice in her life, nor would she ever think of adopting someone. It was so out of character for her. “What happened to the girl that you feel this way,” Bruce asked.

Edna sighed, “Other than being a brilliant designer, who designs could rival my own, my little coccinelle has had a hard life. There was a girl who lied about her. This girl made all of her friends bully and isolate her. The worst part was when my coccinelle’s parents believed the liar over their daughter. They threw her out. When I heard about her designing from Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, I went to Paris to seek her out. When I went to her bakery, her parents were rude. I called and asked Jagged where she could be. He gave me her address. When I went there, she was a mess. I offered her the apprenticeship, she accepted. And a year later, here we are.”

The Wayne’s looked shocked at this. They then snapped out of it and, Edna then took their measurement and took note of any extra preferences they might have. She also asked what color they wanted for the suit jacket, shirt, and pants. Edna then asked whether they preferred a bow tie or a necktie. Finally, she asked what color they wanted the lining of their suits to be.

On their way out, Bruce asked Edna, “Would you and your apprentice like to come to the Wayne gala in return for making the suits in such short notice. Oh, and it is in two weeks.” Edna agreed and saw them out. Once they left, she sighed deeply. She then smiled to herself, thinking about Marinette’s reaction to the gala and having to design Wayne’s suits.

(Marinette’s POV)

Marinette was having a mental breakdown. WHY? Because Edna decided that having Marinette design Wayne’s suits was a good idea, as was going to Wayne Gala. So right now, Marinette was having a meltdown. And what was Edna doing? She was watching Marinette become a stuttering mess and trying to figure out how she was going to do something like this.

“Marinette, calm down! Just do your best and, you’ll figure the rest out,” Edna told her.

Marinette nodded and went to her room to start planning the designs and creating them. For almost two weeks, she worked tirelessly on end to complete the designs, and make a dress for herself. And by the day before the gala, Marinette had completed the suits. Alfred came to Edna’s manor to get them for the Waynes.

Once Alfred picked them up, Edna went to Marinette’s room and knocked. Once Marinette said to come in, Edna opened the door and walked in. Marinette looked at Edna, wondering why she was here. But, she then asked a question that Marinette so happy, “My little coccinelle, would you like it if I adopted you?”

Marinette couldn’t answer from happiness. Instead, she jumped on Edna with tears in her eyes and kept on chanting, “Yes, yes, yes!” They both sat like that until Marinette fell asleep, happy that they were now legally going to be family.

On the day of the Wayne gala, Marinette wore a burgundy dress with silver details on the upper part of the dress. She wore silver shoes that had a glass flower on the toes and a silver handbag. Marinette, also matching silver earrings and a necklace. She decided to let her hair loose into beautiful waves.

Edna wore a simple black dress with some white pearl details along with a black handbag with silver and black shoes.

They then left for the Wayne gala. Once they arrived at the Wayne gala, they spotted the Wayne’s wearing Marinette’s amazing designs.

Once the Waynes spotted Edna, they walked over in hopes of meeting her apprentice. Edna saw them coming and Marinette to them. “Boys, this is my apprentice Marinette Mode. Marinette, this is Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian.”

“Wait, so you legally adopted her?” Tim asked.

“Yes, I did, yesterday,” Edna replied.

Marinette smiled brightly at the Waynes and said, “It’s nice to meet you all. I hope that you like the suits that I made.” The Wayne’s gave their gratitude for the suits. They then all dispersed, except for Damian. He was still staring at Marinette, as Marinette was staring at him. They both started talking at the same time,

“Hi, it’s nice-”

“Hey, I rea-”

They both laughed, and Marinette said, “You go first.”

“I was going to tell you how fond I am of this suit. You did an acceptable job.”

“Thank you,” Marinette muttered, “I was going to say that it’s nice to meet you. So tell me about yourself.”

And the pair went on to talking about anything and everything together. Marinette couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. How his beautiful tan skin glistened in the light. How soft his dark, silky hair looked, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes were the best part, a perfect balance between jade and emerald green, giving it a shine, but not making it look toxic. He was so handsome. As she continues talking with him, she realized, she liked him, she wanted him to kiss her, hold her. But they had just met. Little did she know that Damian had similar thoughts running through his head.

(3rd person POV)

Damian thought that Marinette was absolutely beautiful with her silky raven hair. Her pink pouty lips along with her glistening bluebell eyes. Her fair skin was showered with little freckles that made her even prettier. Words could not describe how beautiful she was.

From an outside view, Marinette and Damian were looking like lovesick fools. Laughing, talking, never leaving each other’s side. By the end of the night, they separated with each other’s phone number, and a promise to meet again for a date.

(Time Skip of three months)

(Marinette POV)

It had been three months since the gala. The day after the gala, Damian took her to Gotham park for a nice picnic. On their second date, they went to the rooftop of one of Bruce’s buildings and watched the sunset from there. Their third date was the date where Damian asked Marinette if she would like to be his girlfriend. He took her to an expensive restaurant and after they walked on the pier. There he took out a necklace with a silver chain and “I love you for always and forever” written on it. The pendant was in the shape of a heart. He gave it to her as he asked her to be his girlfriend. She jumped on him kissing him with so much force and passion and then pulled away, breathing out a, “Yes!”

Since then, they had been inseparable. Damian and Marinette told each other everything. Well, almost everything, she still hadn’t told Damian about being Ladybug. And Marinette knew he was also hiding something the way he would get bruises for no reason. She didn’t know what he was hiding until she stumbled across something when she was at the Manor one day.

She had gotten lost again. The Wayne Manor was huge. Marinette knew she was going to get lost, but she always had someone to help her. Marinette then heard some noises. She stumbled towards the noise. The sight that she was met with made her head throb. There in front of her were the occupants of the house. But not as the Wayes. No, they were there as the Bat-Family. The Waynes were the BAT FAMILY! Of course, she would end up falling in love with a vigilante.

Once they caught sight of her, all noises ceased. They didn’t do anything until Damian let out a feeble, “Beloved?”

Marinette turned her attention to Damian, “When were you going to tell me about this? And no, I am not mad. But you should have TOLD me. I shouldn’t have had to find out by myself.”

Damian sighed and told her, “I didn’t want to endanger your life.”

She snorted, “Yeah, like I don’t do that daily.”

“What?!” Everyone screamed at the implications that she was giving.

“Yup, I’m a hero from Paris. Tikki, Spots on!” She then transformed into Ladybug. Once Marinette transformed, she looked at the opened mouth vigilantes. “In Paris, my old partner and I protect the citizens from a guy named Hawkmoth, who preys off of people’s emotions to turn them into his minions, I’ve been fighting him for about four years now. I did send a message to the Justice League, but Green Lantern told me to stop prank calling. I’ve been fighting him by myself for two years because my old partner was harassing me.” She then went on to explain different akumitizations and went more in-depth about her powers.

“Spot off”, she said. She held her hand out and let Tikki sit in it, “This is my kwami Tikki, she is the one who lets me turn into Ladybug.” Everyone, surprisingly, took her reservations well.

By the end, Batman told her, “We would like to help you defeat Hawkmoth. We can start by uncovering who he is. We can do that by taking his voice and running it through some voice scanners until we find a match.” Marinette nodded, happy that they were getting somewhere.

She pulled up a video of Hawkmoth speaking while telling Batman, “By the way, Mom’s going to be here in ten minutes.”

They looked at her, bewildered, “What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes and handed them her phone with the recording, “What I mean is that she knows that you are the Bat-Family. She figured it out like she figured out my identity.” They all nodded, dumbfounded that someone knew their identity.

Tim or Red Robin ran the voice through the scanners before they found a match. “Gabriel Agreste”, Marinette breathed, “I suspected him before, but he got akumatized. He must have akumatized himself to throw off suspicion.”

That’s when Edna arrived, “Did you figure out Hawkmoth’s identity”, Edna asked. Marinette nodded and pointed to the screen. Edna looked at it and scoffed, “Of course it’s Gabriel. I always knew he was a psychopath!” Marinette started laughing at Edna’s reaction and hugged her. Edna’s face softened, and she stroked Marinette’s hair lightly.

The bat family watched the scene with growing bewilderment. Damian cleared his throat, bringing the attention to him. “As much as I love to see how much my angel’s and Mode’s relationship is growing, we have more pressing matters. How are we going to catch Hawkmoth.”

Marinette thought about it before saying, “A distraction.” She turned to Edna, “Mom, you are going to set up a meeting with Gabriel and distract him. While you’re doing that, we’ll break into the house and go to his hideout. Actually”, she turned to Tim,“ Tim, could you look into the security cameras and see if there is any footage of him disappearing in some way. Or could you get a layout of the house?”

“Done and done,” Tim answered. They watched Gabriel push three specific buttons on Emile’s portrait, which Marinette took note of. They then saw him disappear underneath the ground. Tim pulled the layout of the house up. “This is the layout, based on it, we can conclude that he was going to the room beneath the house.”

Marinette nodded her head, “Okay, this is perfect. Once we sneak in there, we’ll look around, gather some evidence, and then sneak up on Gabriel and take the brooch from him.”

Everyone cheered and then left to do their own thing. Damian stopped Marinette from leaving. He pulled her to him and said in a sexy, gruff voice, “I’m glad that I know every part of you now.” He then dove for her lips, prompting a squeak from Marinette. After a few seconds, she relaxed in the kiss, pulling Damian closer by wrapping her arms around his neck. He put one hand around her waist, and the other one was in her sweet-smelling raven hair. The kiss felt amazing. His warm, soft lips against her luscious, sweet ones. Her lips tasted sweet like sugar, making Damian want to kiss her longer and harder. But, humans need to breathe. They pulled away panting heavily, faces flushed in passion. They stared into each other’s eyes for a little bit before kissing each other once more, this one being chaste rather than hot and heavy. They then let each other go and went to prepare for the demise of Hawkmoth.

The next day, they followed through with the plan. Edna first entered the house and talked loudly to Gabriel, demanding that he bring his son and Natalie to the meeting so that they can all catch up. Once the occupants of the Agreste household were out of the way, Ladybug and the Bats made their way to the picture of Emile. There they pressed the exact buttons and went underneath the house. There they found hundreds of white butterflies along with a horrifying sight. Emilie Agreste being preserved in a coffin and in what looked like to be a coma. Marinette was convinced that she could heal Emilie, went up to the coffin, and set to work. She closed her eyes and put her hands to the outside of the coffin. She then let her power flow through her body until they were at her hands. She then kept her glowing hands to the coffin until she heard a cough. She opened her eyes to find Emilie sitting up, looking around in shock, “Where’s my husband?” she asked, “Where’s Adrien?”

Marinette put her hand to Emile’s shoulder, “We’ll explain everything to you after ma'am. But, we first need to do something.” She walked over to the platform and rose herself to the upper floor, along with everyone else. She then saw Edna, Gabriel, Adrien, and Natalie already there. Everyone positioned themselves and got ready to attack. At the count of three, everyone moved. Marinette grabbed the brooch from Gabriel, Bruce grabbed the peacock brooch from Natalie, and Damian grabbed the ring from Adrien. The Agreste’s and Natalie turned to the heroes in anger, but then froze when they caught sight of Emilie.

Emilie, now understanding that her family must have done something bad, for these people to take away their miraculous, started sobbing. Marinette went up to her and comforted her while telling her everything that she missed. Edna called the police, while the Bat-Family made sure that not of the Agreste’s nor Natalie escaped.

(3rd person POV)

When the police arrived, they were surprised to find that designer Gabriel Agreste, his son, and his assistant were guilty of the terrorism in Paris. They were going to jail. Then, reporters arrived, broadcasting the defeat of Hawkmoth to the world, but then Gabriel said something that made some happy, while it froze the blood in many others, “Lila Rossi was also part of this! She was an accomplice to my schemes! Lila was trying to push Marinette Dupain-Cheng to an akumitization because I realized how powerful of an Akuma Marinette would become. So Lila went to great length to make her suffer, but then she left Paris, and I wasn’t able to akumatize her. If you should be arresting anyone else, it should be Lila Rossi!”

In her house, a liar was growing pale as the authorities banged on her door. When she didn’t open up, they kicked down the door and arrested her. Lila then let out a scream that the whole world would have heard.

When the government saw that two accomplices for Hawkmoth were in the same class from Francios Dupont Highschool, they had to school investigated. They investigated both the principal and Madame Bustier. They found out that both would take bribes and were enablers. They then investigated the students in Madame Bustier’s class. They found that the students were being sued which wasn’t that bad. But, they were being sued for slander, defamation, and more, by not only Edna Mode but also Bruce Wayne. The government looked at security cameras and found many forms of breaking and entering, abuse, bullying, and found many forms of slander online. All of the students along with the teacher and principal were going to have to serve jail time. But, it would be nowhere as long as Lila’s, Adrien’s, Natalie’s, or Gabriel’s jail time.

(Marinette POV)

Marinette was staying in the Grand Hotel when her ex-parents came knocking at her door. They were all smiles, “Marinette, now that we know that we actually raised you right, you can come home with us!”

Marinette just scowled back at them, “As much as I appreciate the offer, you aren’t my guardians anymore. Edna Mode adopted me and I am legally Marinette Mode. Have a good day!” She then slammed the door shut in their faces. She leaned her head against the door and sighed deeply.

She felt a pair of arms wrap around her and kiss her neck gently, “You going to be okay?”

Marinette turned around and smiled at him, “Yeah, I am.”

Five hours later, when Marinette turned on the news, it showed Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng going to jail. They were charged for child neglecting and abuse. Marinette shook her head, chuckling, knowing that it was Damian who did this. She inhaled deeply, oh well, all’s well that ends well.

(Time Skip of 15 years)

A thirty-three-year-old Marinette put the baby in her hands down in the crib. After everything that happened in Paris, Damian and Marinette had continued dating. Damian proposed on their one-year anniversary and the got married a year later. They now had an 11-year-old daughter named Amira Beth Wayne, a 6-year-old boy Grayson Abbas Wayne, and 1-year-old Sadiya Cathy Wayne. Marinette was now the CEO of Mode Companies, while Damian ran Wayne Enterprises along with Tim as Co-CEOs. As Marinette looked at her children she couldn’t believe that she managed to have such a good life. She felt Damian behind her so she leaned back into him. He kissed the back her head and whispered huskily in her ear, “I love you and I promise that I and the kids will be by your side. Forever and always.”

Marinette snuggled into Damian and squeezed his hand whispering, “Forever and always.”

487 notes · View notes

miraculouswolf99 · 4 years

Text

Shadow Fox

"Good morning, Adrien," Lyon greeted, walking up to the model outside the school.

"Hello, Lyon," Adrien smiled at his Greek friend.

"You waiting for someone," Lyon asked him.

"Would I sound too much like Cat Noir if I said you," Adrien smirked.

"Cat Noir's got nothing on you, Sunshine Boy," Lyon snickered.

"Ironic," Adrien thought.

"Hello, boys," Vallia approached them. "You two flirting with each other again?"

"Maybe," Adrien smirked.

"It's so obvious as well," Lyon shook his head. "How is it that so many people in this school still think Adrien is straight?"

"You were the one that pointed out their lack of common sense when we first got here, brother of mine," Vallia says.

"Oh, right," Lyon accepted her logic.

"At least Marinette was already dating Luka when you two started flirting in public like this," Vallia said.

"I was so blind to her crush," Adrien sighed. "I must have looked so insensitive to her."

"Adrien, crushes are pretty much a blind spot to all guys," Lyon tells him. "I know some girls back home had crushes on me that Vallia had to point out for me."

"It's true," Vallia giggled. "You can't exactly be rich, good-looking, and not expect people to get a crush on you."

"Celebrity crushes are the worst," Lyon shook his head.

"Don't I know it," Adrien out his head in his hands.

"Awe, poor kitty," Lyon playfully patted his head.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, wolfie," Adrien slapped his hand away lightly.

"You are so lucky that I don't have archery practice today," Lyon playfully glared. "Otherwise, you'd know the exact consequences of calling me wolfie."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Vallia says. "Have you guys seen the latest post on the Ladyblog?"

"Vallia, you know I do not care for blogs," Lyon reminds her. "Most people with blogs like that believe that it gives them actual rights as 'real' reporters. Please, most blogs are basically just wannabe reporters throwing around their opinions."

"You never hold back when stating your own opinion, do you," Adrien asked.

"Why should I," Lyon raised an eyebrow. "Free speech exists for a reason."

"Point made," Adrien shrugged.

"Take a look," Vallia showed them her phone.

New Lead On the Identity Of Ladybug was plastered as the lead story on Alya's blog. Adrien and Lyon looked at each other before returning to the story. It was some theory story that seemed to be more like a conspiracy theory as she compared old photos of Hippolyta, Joan of Arch, and some statue that she seemed to us an app to add ladybug style armor to as a basis for her theory that the current Ladybug was also a heroic person under the mask. She was guessing volunteer workers, teaching assistants, and any other female teenager that liked to help people.

"I thought Ladybug told her months ago to stop trying to find her identity," Lyon did not like what he was seeing.

"Did being akumatized into Lady Wifi not teach her anything," Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose.

"From what you guys told us, that was more Chloe's fault," Vallia reminds. "Yet Chloe didn't even have a reason until Alya went a little too far when she thought that brat of all people was Ladybug."

"May the gods help that girl," Lyon shook his head. "I have never been so happy that there is no god or goddess of blogs."

"Hephaestus is the god of technology," Vallia reminded.

"But a blog on its own is not technology," Lyon countered. "It may be created with technology, but that is not part of his domain. The internet is a thing all on its own."

"Maybe Marinette can help Alya by being the voice of reason," Adrien suggested. "She usually is."

"She shouldn't have to be," Lyon says.

"Alya, Ladybug has repeatedly told you not to look for her identity," they heard their favorite bluenette's voice.

"Speak of the devil," Adrien said. "Or rather, speak of the angel in this case."

"Relax, Marinette," they hear Alya's voice. "It's not like I gave any specific people to look at."

"Alya, you are endangering her family and friends by trying to figure out her identity and putting your 'clues' on the Ladyblog," Marinette says.

"Hawkmoth won't attack her family or friends," Alya waved her off.

The two girls approached the school, consumed by their conversation. They hardly noticed the other three walking up to them.

"What even makes you think that Hawkmoth wouldn't attack her family," Lyon asked. "There doesn't seem to be anything he wouldn't do."

"Hawkmoth did akumatize a baby," Vallia pointed out. "Poor little August."

"Well, Hawkmoth didn't attack Lila," Alya reasoned. "And if he didn't attack Laydybug's best friend, he wouldn't attack the rest of her friends or family."

"Ever consider that Hawkmoth didn't go after her because he knew she was lying," Lyon asked, in his scary calm voice.

"What is your problem with her," Alya glared at him. "What do you have against Lila to accuse her of lying without proof!?!"

"My proof is that she was stupid enough to broadcast her 'friendship' all over Paris on your blog," Lyon crossed his arms. "Anyone that publically says that they are best friends with a superhero is like asking for villains to attack them. It's pretty obvious she is claiming so to get attention."

"How dare you accuse Lila of that," Alya yelled at the Greek, not that he seemed to care. "She would never lie."

"Except that she has," Vallia says. "Pretty much since the day that she got here and every day since then."

The Greek twins then walked away without another word. That was another thing that Adrien liked about them. They took no nonsense from anyone and would tell you if you were doing something, or were about to do something, stupid.

And they certainly took no nonsense from Lila. But they especially did not after she told a lie about Clara Nightingale stealing some of her dance moves from her. It was well known, since Clara's last visit to Paris, that the pop star was very good friends with the twins so they automatically knew that was a lie. And they made their anger very well known. They didn't care if it got them some glares in return, but they always made people know that they believed that Lila is a liar. Which was true, but not everyone knew that.

"You can't say that those two are not blunt," Adrien commented to Marinette.

Marinette giggled in agreement.

The two walked into the school before Alya could go on another of her "defending Lila' rants. They got old very quickly.

It had just been the end of the school day when the Akuma Alarms started to go off. Lyon and Valiia did a disappearing act while Adrien and Marinette both made bad excuses in order to get away from everyone to transform.

"Tikki, spots on."

"Plagg, claws out."

"Frostbite, freeze over."

"Flutter, wings up."

Ladybug, Cat Noir, White Wolf, and Beautifly were soon all heading toward the newest villain that Hawkmoth created.

"What in the name of Zeus," Beautifly swore.

In front of the four heroes was a psychedelic killer clown. With the poofy red and orange jumpsuit, giant black shoes, red and orange clown/Santa hat, and purple skin, he looked like the long lost twin to the Ghost Clown from Scooby Doo. And he was also very unnerving to look at. His weapon seemed to be a giant clown horn.

"I have never liked clowns before, and this is not helping," White Wolf stated.

"You're afraid of clowns," Cat Noir raised an eyebrow under his mask.

"Not afraid of them, I just don't like them," White Wolf corrected. "I find them to be creepy and weird-looking."

"Looking at this guy, I am actually on Wolf's side for this one," Ladybug says. "Not that I am surprised that Hawkmoth made a clown akuma, at all."

"One was bound to show up eventually," Beautifly crossed her arms.

"Lucky us," White Wolf complained.

"I'm guessing he is either a birthday clown who got upset, or maybe a class clown that got in trouble for his jokes, or someone pranked with no sense of humor," Cat Noir guessed.

"Those are actually some really good guesses," Beautifly says.

"Fight enough akumas, you get good at figuring out what type of person they were under the mask," Cat Noir said.

"Good thing they don't have attached glamours like we do with our miraculous," White Wolf says. "That would make things a lot more difficult."

"Chloe's first time as a villain was certainly easy to figure out," Cat Noir said. "All that changed about her was putting her in a Ladybug suit with reversed colors. He was a lot more creative with Stormy Weather and Evillustrator."

"What else can you say about those with purple skin," Ladybug giggled.

"I may like the color, but purple skin is not something I would ever like to have," Beautifly says. "I'd look like a human lavender flower."

"He looks ridiculous I'll give him that," White Wolf looked at the clown.

"I am Jokester," the clown yelled. "If others can't appreciate my sense of humor, I will make them laugh."

"I think Cat Noir may be right about the prankster getting into trouble theory," White Wolf said.

"Finally, someone sees my genius," Cat Noir laughed.

Jokester brought out a cliche clown horn. He aimed it at the heroes.

"Heads up, guys," Beautifly warned.

She used her wings to fly up and out of the way. The other three jump out of range as the clown blown the horn. Out came a sound blast of yellow sound waves. While it missed the heroes, the sound did wash over some civilians that were farther back on the street from them. They all started laughing immediately.

"I am suddenly reminded of the Joker," White Wolf commented.

"Even with all the crime, I still actually have always wanted to go to Gotham," Cat Noir said.

"Don't let him hit you with that sound wave," Ladybug called to them.

"Where's the songbird miraculous when we need it," Beautifly tried to joke.

"We'll see how this plays out, Fly," White Wolf tells her.

They all dodged another sound blast sent their way. White Wolf landed on the roof of a nearby building. He notched an arrow in his bow, letting it fly at the akuma. The clown dodged the arrow, letting it freeze the ground where it hit.

"Anyone want to take a bet on whether the akuma is in the horn or not," Cat Noir calls out, dodging a blast sent his way.

"At least it isn't hidden on a ship like Captain Hardrock's was," Beautifly says.

"Please don't mention her," White Wolf requested. "My ears still have a slight ring to them from her sound cannons."

"Not the quietest akuma we've ever faced," Cat Noir agreed.

"Try and surround him," Ladybug ordered. "He might get confused and not know where to aim the horn."

"Good idea," Cat Noir agreed.

The four separated, going in different directions. White Wolf kept the most distance so that he could properly aim his arrows at the clown. Beautifly stayed off the ground, her wings fluttering so that she could easily fly out of the way. Ladybug and Cat Noir were on opposite sides of the clown, both with their weapons out and ready to strike. Altogether, they formed an X around the akuma.

"You should surrender," Ladybug tried talking to Jokester. "Whatever Hawkmoth is telling you is a lie. He can't offer you anything real."

But the signature butterfly outline appeared over the clown's eyes.

"Do not listen to this teenage heroine," Hawmoths tells the villain in his head. "She only wants to take away your new powers and prevent you from spreading laughter and fun. I can help you spread real fun all throughout Paris while she can not."

"I could not agree more, Hawkmoth," Jokester replied.

He aimed his horn directly at the ground. Beautifly had seen this before when an enemy would aim their weapon right at the ground.

"Get out of the way," she yelled.

She immediately flew up, further off the ground. The three heroes on the ground followed suit by jumping or using their weapons to get onto rooftops. Jokester blew the horn right at the ground. The sound wave came out like a sonic boom as it boomed out in all directions on the ground. A few more dozen people all started to laugh uncontrollably. Jokester shot into the air and started flying just like when Rose was Princess Frangrance doing the same thing with her perfume gun.

"I hate it when we have to chase them," Cat Noir complained. "Can't they ever make it easy for us."

"Trust me, if I had it my way, Hawkmoth's lair would have a giant Las Vegas sign on it with 'come arrest me' spelled out in neon," White Wolf tells him.

"This is why I like having wings," Beautifly giggled.

She took off, flying after him. The rest followed after her. White Wolf aimed another arrow at the clown, firing when they jumped to another roof. But Jokester managed to dodge it and who knows where the arrow landed after that.

"I need to practice my aiming while I am running more often," Wolf said.

"What I would give to be a flying cat," Cat Noir says.

"I will have to look to see if there is a jaquin miraculous," Beautifly giggles.

"A what," Ladybug asked.

The butterfly hero flew faster, getting in front of the clown. She launched her razor flower at him. Jokester was forced to head back to the ground. He landed on a random street somewhere by Le Grand Paris.

"I will make you, heroes, see the joy of laughter," Jokester yells.

"Laughter is overrated," Wolf stated, firing another arrow.

He blew his horn at the arrow, blocking and destroying the arrow. They all then jumped out of the way as the sound blast almost got to them after destroying the arrow.

"Even with four of us, he has us on the ropes," Beautifly says.

"If we end up laughing non-stop, we won't be able to call upon our power or detransform because we wouldn't be able to form words properly," Ladybug said.

"Even separately, the sound wave is too big," Cat Noir noticed. "He needs to be distracted away from us so we can get the akumatized object."

"So we need an allie," Wolf said. "The stag or python miraculous might be able to help us. Or maybe even the songbird."

"Sonic scream, sound shriek, or paralyzing," Beautifly listed the powers of the three miraculous. "Any of those could help us."

Ladybug was about to respond when she saw Alya off to the side. She was on her phone, as usual, most likely filming the fight for the Ladyblog. Her blog had recently opened up to Lyon and Vallia's homeland of Greece because of White Wolf and Beautifly joining the battle against Hawkmoth. Google translate was probably very useful to them.

"I know what to do," Ladybug says. "I'll be right back."

With that, she left. Cat Noir was the first to get what she was doing when he saw that Alya was there as well.

"We better handle the clown gone wild until she gets back," Wolf says.

They separated again, dodging more sound blasts.

Ladybug destransformed into Marinette before she headed into Master Fu's building. She had a feeling that he was expecting her, like always. How he did that was a little creepy, but what did she know about Guardians of the Miraculous.

"Master Fu," she greeted when she came in.

"Come on in, Marinette," Fu says.

"I need the fox miraculous," Marinette tells him. "The illusions it can create will be the best distraction for this akuma."

"Of course," Fu said.

He went over to his phonograph and punched in his code. The miracle box soon rose out of it. He picked up the box and put it in front of her.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, pick an ally you can trust to fight alongside you on this mission. Choose wisely; such powers are meant to serve the greater good. Once the mission is over you will retrieve the Miraculous from them," he tells her.

Marinette immediately picked up the foxtail necklace. But then she hesitated when she looked at it.

"Marinette," Wayzz asked, concerned.

"What is it, dear child," Fu asked her.

"You know that I usually give this to Rena Rouge, right," Marinette started.

"Yes. And if I am correct, she is your best friend, Alya, correct," Fu guessed.

"Yes, she is," Marinette didn't even try to lie. "But... you know that Alya also is the creator of the Ladyblog."

"I mean no offense, but blogs are still quite foreign to me," Fu admitted. "But I do understand what you are talking about."

"Alya is a good reporter," Marinette started. "But she sometimes does not know when to let a story go or if a story will have unexpected consequences. Alya has been trying to figure out my identity. She's almost been obsessed with finding it pretty much since Ladybug's first appearance. The search was what started the events that caused her to be akumatized. I have told her to stop, but she hasn't."

"And you are worried that Alya will find your identity if you continue giving her the fox miraculous," Fu guessed.

"No, I'm worried that she will put us in danger when she figures it out," Marinette says. "She keeps saying that the people deserve to know who I am, who all us heroes are, even when that puts us all on Hawkmoth's radar. She's convinced that he won't attack us because a liar has been telling her that she is 'Ladybug's' best friend and she believes her. She thinks that since Hawkmoth had not attacked 'Ladybug's best friend' that he will not attack Ladybug."

"I see," Fu says.

"I have even told her, as Ladybug, to stop looking for my identity," Marinette continued. "Multiple times, I add. But she is still looking. Alya is a great friend, but she tends to listen only when it is something she wants to hear. I am not sure if I can trust her enough with the fox anymore."

"Heroes are not always set in stone, Marinette," Fu tells her. "Not even the ladybug and black cat are only compatible with one person. I trust that if you know when there is a good fit for a temporary hero, then that person will indeed be a good one."

Marinette seemed to calm down after that. But that also slightly made her curious about who else would be compatible with her miraculous. When they did that accidental miraculous swap and she became Lady Noir, she and Mister Bug actually did pretty well. Even if they did not have much practice with the powers that they literally had for less than fifteen minutes.

She quickly left and transformed, jumping over rooftops. She had to think of someone that could be a good match for the fox miraculous. She knew that Alya loved being Rena Rouge, but this was also a chance for her to see that her actions had consequences. To teach her that there are some things that are not worth a story. Also, do not believe everything you hear. That second one was more a jab at Lila than anything else.

The more Ladybug thought about it, the more she was thinking of a personality that would match the fox and its powers. Alya was hard-headed, stubborn, and liked to charge in. That was not the type of personality that would match with subtle illusions and an animal that is known for being sneaky and quiet. A fox should be sneaky, know when to observe before taking action, and should also know what will work best when in the shadows.

And now that she really thought about it, there was one person she knew that would be a far better fit for the fox.

Ladybug landed right near a very familiar boat on the Seine. Her Ladybug luck must have been working because the exact person she needed was right on deck.

"Juleka," Ladybug called, jumping onto the boat.

"L...Ladybug," Juleka stuttered, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help," Ladybug stated.

"M...My help," Juleka looked even more shocked. "What can I do? I'm not cut out to be a hero."

"You are more capable than you think, Juleka," Ladybug pulled out the box. "Juleka Couffaine, this is the miraculous of the fox, which grants the power of illusion. You will use it for the greater good. After the battle is over you must return the miraculous to me. Can I trust you?"

Juleka was a lot of things. She was shy, sweet, kind, had a good head on her shoulders, and had a dream to become a model. She never would have imagined anything like this ever happening to her.

"M...Me," she was beyond shocked at this point. "I...I'm no hero, Ladybug. And... what about Rena Rouge?"

"Rena has... lost my trust," Ladybug admitted. "She has been permanently retired and won't be returning."

"Oh," was all Juleka could say.

"Juleka, there is no bravery without fear," Ladybug tells the shy girl. "Being a hero does not mean being fearless and always jumping into danger without a second thought. It also means being careful and going in with a strategy. You are naturally quiet and observant, a perfect match for the fox miraculous."

"I'm not a hero, Ladybug," Juleka was still reluctant.

"We all have a hero inside of us, Juleka," Ladybug gave her a reassuring smile. "You do not need to be fearless to be a hero."

Juleka looked at the box that Ladybug was offering her again. She wanted to be confident, to be able to stand up to people if she has to, to put herself out there more. Now, she was being given that chance.

"Okay, Ladybug," she took the box and opened the lid.

A ball of light came out, flying around the goth girl. To her credit, she did not stare at the ball of light and exclaim "what is that thing" like Alya did.

"Hello, there," Trixx greeted, not showing how surprised he was at not seeing Alya.

"Rad," Juleka gasped.

"Not easily shook, is she," Trixx asked Ladybug.

"Guess with magical superheroes around, these things are being seen as more normal," Ladybug shrugged.

"Alright, then," Trixx turned back to Juleka. "My name's Trixx, and I will be your kwami."

"Kwami," Juleka was not as informed as Alya had been.

"I'm what gives my holders their powers," Trixx answered. "I am the kwami of illusion. To transform, you say 'Trixx, let's pounce.' Detransform, it's 'let's rest.' To call my power, play your flute, think the illusion you want, and say 'mirage."

Juleka put the necklace on, but she still looked nervous about doing this.

"You'll do great, Juleka," Ladybug smiled at her. "I know you will."

Juleka nodded. "Trixx, let's pounce."

Trixx was pulled into the necklace and Juleka transformed. Ladybug immediately noticed that her hero outfit was a lot different from Alya's.

For starters, her colors are midnight black and dark purple. Her torso was similar to Rena's but was dark purple where it was normally white and black where it would have been orange. But that was where the similarities ended. Over her torso clothing was a black leather jacket with streaks of purple on it. She also wore knee-high black boots that had no heel and matched the dark purple gloves on her hands. Behind her was a real fox tail instead of Rena's fabric one. The same difference was the real fox ears coming out of the top of her head. Her hair remained mostly the same but grew to where the tail started to come out of her. Over her eyes was a dark purple mask. Her flute also changed to purple and black and was strapped to her back.

"Wow," Ladybug gasped. "This might actually come in handy if we ever have another akuma at night to deal with. There would be plenty of shadows that you could blend into."

"This feels so awesome," Juleka looked at her costume.

"So, what will I call you," Ladybug asked.

"My name can be... Shadow Fox," Juleka chooses a hero identity.

"Cool," Ladybug smiled at her.

*****

Meanwhile, back at the battle, the three other heroes were trying their best to keep other civilians from becoming laughing messes. They already had to save Alya three times because of her need to film the fight even when it was a risk to her safety.

"Alya," Beautifly yelled in warning.

Make that four times.

The butterfly hero dived down and picked up the blogger. She just managed to fly out of reach of another sound blast from Jokester. She set Alya down on the roof of a building further from the fight.

"Hey, I need to be closer to the fight," Alya protested where she was put down. "I would never be able to get a proper video from here."

"Your life is not worth a simple video," Beautifly scolded. "Either stay away from the fight or just learn to dodge on your own. We can not keep saving you. It distracts us from defeating the akuma."

"I need this for my blog," Alya continued to protest.

"A blog post is not worth your life," Beautifly snapped at her.

She flew away before Alya could attempt to argue more with her. She saw Cat Noir and White Wolf standing on opposite sides of Jokester, hoping for at least one of them to get a hit in.

"Take this, Mr.Big-Nose," Cat Noir yelled, jumping at him while spinning his staff.

Jokester focused his attention on Cat Noir, raising his horn to make him laugh as well as blast him away. White Wolf fired an arrow when he was distracted. And this one finally met its mark. The arrow hit the horn and ice erupted around it, encasing his hand and the horn at the same time. That lead to the akum only being able to jump out of the way of Cat Noir's strike.

"Finally," Wolf says. "There is no worse feeling to an archer than constantly missing their target."

Cat Noir had to laugh at that, making the wolf hero playfully pout.

"Aw," Cat Noir looked at him. "A pouting wolf. How adorable."

"Call me adorable one more time and I will shove an arrow so far up your..." Wolf started.

"Don't want to be called adorable, then don't pout like that," Beautifly smirked, interrupting him.

"My quiver literally never runs out of arrows, you really want to tempt me," Wolf shakes his bow at them in a threatening manner.

"You're still cute, Wolfie," Cat Noir winked at him.

"Do not make me shoot you, Kitty," Wolf playfully threatened.

"You two are made for each other," Beautifly giggled.

"Am not," the two heroes could not hide their blushes.

"Someone needs to tell that Ladyblogger to take down that LadyNoir ship name," Beautifly giggled again. "Because that is obviously not happening."

Both male heroes were really going red, but their fun moment was ruined by Jokester.

"I will make you laugh if it is the last thing I do," he yelled.

"You'd think a clown would appreciate our senses of humor," Cat Noir commented.

The ice around the horn began to crack.

"Oh for the love of Hades," Wolf swore.

They all shot in different directions when the ice exploded with a sound blast that would have directly hit them.

"Looks like I need to layer on the ice," Wolf notched another arrow.

"Someone call for back-up," Ladybug's voice called.

Not even a second later, a black figure shot at Jokester and hit him with... was that a flute? The clown was knocked right into a nearby wall.

"That was the akuma I just hit, right," the figure asked, her voice telling them that she was female.

The rest of the team got their first real look at Shadow Fox.

"That is most definitely not Rena Rouge," Cat Noir immediately said.

"You can call me Shadow Fox, kitten," Shadow responded.

"This is an interesting development," Wolf commented.

"Indeed, it is," Beautifly agreed.

Alya, who had finally managed to get close to the fight again, was unbelievably shocked, not to mention angry.

"I'm Rena Rouge," she thought, angrily. "I was right here, why would Ladybug give someone else the fox miraculous. She doesn't even look like a fox."

The three did a quick look, up and down, of Shadow Fox. She was certainly a lot more different than Rena Rouge in terms of looks. And the way that she was able to just shoot at Jokester and nail like that meant that she was comfortable with being quiet even when attacking.

"That was a good hit," Wolf complimented. "Probably one of the few that have happened in this fight."

"Uh... thanks," Shadow said.

"I'm more happy about there now being three heroes with dark-colored outfits compared to the two with bright colors," Beautifly remarked. "We outnumber them, now."

"Finally," Cat Noir cheered in agreement.

"I resent both of you," Ladybug pointed at them, playfully glaring as well.

"At least the two of us stand out more," Wolf smirked.

Jokester than started to get up. He noticed that there were now five heroes against him instead of just the three he had been fighting.

"Oh, look," he gave them a creepy smile. "More people to join in my plan of spreading laughter. Goodie."

"This guy is really creepy," Shadow stated.

"See, she agrees with me," Wolf said.

They all dodged another sound blast.

"Okay, time to end this," Ladybug says. "Lucky Charm."

She threw her yo-yo into the air, calling whatever object that was going to appear. It came in a flash of light as usual and then fell into her hands.

"You have got to be kidding me," Beautifly said, looking at the object.

It was one of those ridiculous fake clown flowers. The ones with a small pump at the end of a tube to squirt water out of the flower.

"What in the world am I supposed to do this," Ladybug looked at it.

"You better figure it out quickly," Wolf called out to her.

He was running across rooftops along the street, continuously firing arrows at the demented clown. But none of the arrows met their mark because they were all destroyed by Jokester's sound blast.

"I'll try and give us some more help," Beautifly says. "Nature's Heart."

Her razor flower spun around her, landing on her hand in front of her. Out of the center of the flower appeared a blossom. This one was oddly known my Shadow Fox.

"That's a water lily," she said, making Beautifly look at her. "I grew up near the water, so I have a lot of aqua facts up my sleeves."

"Okay," Beautifly says. "Then I know exactly what this does. And it does make sense. Sound can not move through the water. Everyone out of the way!"

The butterfly hero took the flower and raised it in front of her. Jokester barely had time to look at her when a powerful torrent of water came shooting out of the flower. She loved her ability to call enchanted flowers, even if she never knew what she was going to get.

Jokester shot another sound blast, but the water was too powerful for it. The sound blast was now acting more like a shield as it tried to keep the water at bay. The heroes all stood on different roofs to avoid the torrent.

"I have never loved flowers more than right now," Cat Noir said.

"That's my partner for you," Wolf grinned.

Ladybug looked around, using her Ladybug vision to work out how to use what she had. Shadow Fox was the first to flash in her sight, then the water gun flower, then White Wolf's bow and arrows, and finally Cat Noir. She now had a plan.

"I can't hold this for much longer," Beautifly shouted.

Ladybug quickly made her way over to Shadow Fox.

"When Beautifly stops her attack, that is when you need to call your illusion," she tells her.

"But... what do I even create," Shadow asked, holding her flute tightly.

"Trust in yourself," Ladybug says. "You'll know what to do."

Shadow Fox nodded, holding her flute. Ladybug then went over to White Wolf and Cat Noir to explain their parts of the plan.

It was not long before the water stopped coming out of the lily that Beautifly was holding. She looked at it, frustrated for a second, before having to take off again as a sound blast nearly hit her. When Jokester went to fire his horn again, Shadow Fox put her flute to her lips and played the tune that activated her power.

"Mirage," she whispered, throwing the ball of light.

In a flash, there were many copies of the heroes along the rooftops. And no two groups were in the same positions, so Jokester could not work out which was which based on how they looked.

"NO," Jokester yelled, confused on where to fire.

Having been looking up, at all the copies, Jokester did not notice the flower that Ladybug had managed to sneak in front of him. When he stepped onto the pump, the flower squirted water right into his face, further distracting and confusing him.

Hidden in two different alleyways were Cat Noir and White Wolf as they waited to do their parts. When Jokester had his back to White Wolf as he was trying to blast all the copies while still trying to wipe the water off of his face and out of his eyes. The icy hero came out as quietly as he could, raising his notched arrow. Aiming as carefully as he could, he fired. The arrow sailed through the air, making contact close to the bottom of the horn, freezing it and knocking it out of Jokester's hand.

"My horn," he cried. "I need that to spread laughter."

Ladybug was quick to jump out of her hiding place and use her yo-yo to wrap around his legs and trip the villain.

"Cat Noir, now," Ladybug yelled.

"Cataclysm," the black cat called, his hand bubbling with black energy.

He jumped up, touching the frozen horn with his hand. The horn instantly turned to dust, falling into icy pieces. A black butterfly flew out of the remains.

"No more evil-doing for you, little akuma," Ladybug opened her yo-yo and threw it at the insect. "Time to de-evilize."

Ladybug released the butterfly, the creature now being white. She then threw the fake flower into the air, letting her Miraculous Cure sweep over the city. As the swarm of ladybugs vanished, three of the heroes started beeping because of the timers on their miraculous for using their powers. Ladybug and Shadow Fox were left with four minutes and Beautifly had three left. Cat Noir was probably close to having four minutes left but White Wolf did not use his power so he was not on a timer.

"LADYBUG," Alya shouted, running toward them.

"And... that is our cue to leave," Wolf stated. "I am not getting involved in this."

"Me neither," Beautifly agrees. "I'd rather fight the spirit of one of the furies."

The Greek heroes flew/ jumped away. Cat Noir then looked at Ladybug.

"I don't really know why she is angry, but I'm not getting involved in whatever happened that made her so mad," he tells her.

"Can I come with you," Shadow asked before he could leave. "I can hide and give you the miraculous so that you don't find out who I am."

"I'm cool with that," Cat Noir responded.

The two quickly left as well and Ladybug was left alone with the blogger.

"Yes, Alya," the hero knew that this conversation was going to happen.

"How... How... You replaced me," the Ladyblogger managed to get out. "I was right here, how could you replace me?!?"

"Because, Alya, you have lost my trust," Ladybug stated.

"Lost your trust? But I didn't do anything," Alya protested.

"Really? Because I recall telling you, multiple times, to stop trying to figure out my identity," Ladybug crossed her arms. "And yet you continue to try. I saw your latest blog post. That not only puts me in danger if your theory is even correct, but it also puts innocent girls in danger that anyone thinks could be me."

"The people deserve to know who is protecting them," Alya argued.

"And does that fact that my friends and family will be targeted by Hawkmoth mean nothing to you," Ladybug glared at her.

"Hawkmoth will not attack them," Alya tries to argue.

"And what reason do you have to think that," Ladybug was not going to back down. "Do you have him on speed-dial? Do you have a video of him saying that he would leave them alone? What proof do you have that he will not attack my family and friends?"

"Well, Lila is still..." Alya was interrupted.

"Her again," Ladybug shook her head. "I told that girl months ago to stop saying that she knew me and that we're friends. It was annoying then and it's annoying now."

Alya was undeniably shocked.

"But... she said..." Alya was interrupted again.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear," Ladybug says. "The only way that me, Cat Noir, White Wolf, Beautifly, and any other hero in Paris knows Lila Rossi is when she has either been akumatized, been chased by an akuma, or has been the cause of one. Neither me, nor any other hero, is friends with her and she needs to stop lying by saying that she is."

"You're just saying that to protect her," Alya was in denial at this point.

"This is why you no longer will be given the fox miraculous," Ladybug remains glaring at her. "You are so in denial about the truth unless it suits you and what you believe. You go running head-first into danger, not caring about your safety or how it distracts me and the other heroes when we constantly need to save you. You also only ever publish what gets you more views on your blog. Lila Rossi's video, your theories about who I am, and I noticed that you still have not taken down that story you posted that accuses Cat Noir of stealing the Mona Lisa. That was a villain called Copycat, who was akumatized to look just like Cat Noir. We told everyone that, yet you still have not taken that article down or posted an apology to him."

"But... But... I..." Alya was speechless, for once.

"There is more to being a good journalist than clickbait articles," Ladybug got her yo-yo out again. "Looking for facts is also a big part of being a reporter. Maybe you need to think about that. Bug out."

Ladybug then swung away to retrieve the fox miraculous that Shadow Fox gave to Cat Noir.

#ml salt #alya salt #lila salt #original heroes #original akuma #original miraculous #original character #miraculous #miraculous ladybug

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melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Because I was following him

I rewrote the CoI scene where Alastair comes to Thomas’ rescue from Alastair’s POV a while back.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31310876

Alastair cursed underneath his breath when he witnessed what happened at the Golden Square. Of course Thomas had to let himself get caught by Inquisitor Bridgestock. Now everyone thought he was the killer, and Alastair was the only one who could testify on his behalf.

He quietly followed the Inquisitor and his patrol, who were dragging Thomas along with him. None of them had any idea he was there and Alastair intended for it to stay that way. Bridgestock did not like him much and might even use his presence as an excuse to accuse Alastair of the murders. Better to wait until the Consul was there, and then testify.

He had never intended for anyone to know about him following Thomas. He knew it wouldn’t change anything, he knew Thomas would not forgive him. Nor did he deserve that. But he would still do the best he could to keep Thomas safe, to make sure his recklessness wouldn’t get him killed. He could live with Thomas hating him, but he could not live with the idea of him dying. How any of those fools were still alive, Alastair had no idea.

He followed Bridgestock’s party into the Institute. None of them noticed he was there as they dragged Thomas to the sanctuary to lock him up there while Alastair stayed behind, and that gave him the time to think. He couldn’t go in like this, his hair was a mess and he looked very distraught. He would need to compose himself, to put on the mask from the academy, otherwise everyone would be able to tell that he loved Thomas.

He needed a good reason why he’d been following Thomas too, no one would believe him being there was just a coincidence and he couldn’t tell anyone the real reason he’d followed Thomas. As far as anyone else knew, he disliked Thomas as much as the Merry Thieves disliked him. Of course, Cordelia did like those boys. And he figured that was a good enough excuse. Cordelia was fond of Thomas, he was one of her husband’s closest friends after all. He’d made sure to keep Thomas safe because he didn’t want his sister to lose a friend.

Alastair slipped into a nearby bathroom, trying to fix his hair and his clothes, but no matter what he did his hair wouldn’t lie flat. Some of the black dye had faded and left a few patches of blonde is his predominantly black hair. He sighed. He guessed it didn’t matter, he looked like he had been on the streets all night, sleep deprived and messy. Some day soon he’d fix his hair but right now he had other priorities.

He took in a deep breath and made his way to the Sanctuary. Thomas’ friends had made it there already, and his older sister Eugenia was standing outside the door. She eyed him suspiciously.

‘What are you doing here, Carstairs?’

‘I’m here to get your brother out of prison,’ Alastair said.

‘How?’ Eugenia let go of her hostility.

‘I saw what happened. I’ve been following him ever since he started going out on these patrols alone. He didn’t kill Lillian Highsmith.’

‘You realize Bridgestock might try to pin suspicion on you instead, or claim that you’re lying on his behalf. He’s in quite a state and refuses to admit he’s wrong about having found the killer.’

Alastair shrugged. ‘That’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

‘Why were you there anyway? Thomas was caught very early in the morning, why would you be out at such an hour?’

Alastair sighed, letting go of the mask. ‘Because I was following him.’

‘You were… why would you do that?’

Alastair hesitated. He couldn’t exactly explain why he had been following Thomas to his sister. Nor to the Consul and Inquisitor. Good time to try his excuse. If Eugenia didn’t believe it, he’d know he’d have to think of something better.

‘Cordelia is fond of him and his friends, someone had to keep him safe. I figured it was the least I could do.’

Eugenia didn’t seem suspicious, at least. ‘Thank you. Alright, go in.’

Alastair put on the mask again and walked in. Chin up, posture straight, making sure he looked every bit the arrogant bastard he used to be. He hated that person, hated that mask, but it was a necessary evil. Everything so they wouldn’t realize he loved Thomas.

‘Dear God,’ said Matthew Fairchild with obvious loathing. ‘Could this day get any worse? What the hell are you doing here, Carstairs?’

Alastair glared at him. Even now Matthew Fairchild always managed to get under his skin.

‘Alastair,’ said the consul, ‘I’m afraid I must ask you to go, these are private.’ She frowned at Thomas’ father, who looked angry. At him, or because his son was wrongfully imprisoned? Alastair hoped it was the latter. ‘Has the front door become unlocked?’

Alastair glanced at Thomas for only a moment, he was absolutely terrified and Alastair suspected that was because of him. It stung, but Alastair kept his chin up. They wouldn’t see.

‘No, the door was not unlocked,’ he said, ‘at least not when I came in. Which was some time ago. You see, I followed Thomas here and came in with the Inquisitor and his patrol. I witnessed miss Highsmith’s death, the entire incident.’

Matthew Fairchild sprang to his feet. ‘Alastair, if you’re lying, I swear on the angel-‘ His mother didn’t let him finish that sentence.

‘Stop!’ the consul yelled, her hand up. ‘Alastair, say what you mean. Now.’

‘As I said, I was in the Golden Square when Thomas was passing through. I also heard Lillian Highsmith scream. I saw Thomas run to help her. She was already dying when he got there. He never harmed her. I’ll swear to it.’

Matthew sat back down. Alastair dared once more to look at Thomas, he seemed confused but at least he was no longer scared. Thomas’ father seemed rather pleased, which only made Alastair feel ashamed. Gideon Lightwood likely had no clue of the past between him and his son, and ought to hate him as much as the Merry Thieves did.

‘Er – what?’ Christopher asked.

The Inquisitor sneered at him. ‘So it’s a coincidence on top of coincidence, then. Tell me, Carstairs, what possible reason could you have had to be in Golden Square at the same time as Thomas Lightwood.’

Alastair looked disdainful at the Inquisitor, making no effort to conceal his hatred for the man. ‘Because I was following him. I’ve been following Thomas for days. I knew he was going out on these insane night patrols by himself, and I wanted to make sure that he was safe. Cordelia is fond of him.’

Thomas looked as him as if he was watching water as it burnt. ‘You’re the one who’s been following me?’

‘You knew someone was following you?’ Matthew shouted. ‘And you didn’t say anything? Thomas!’

As much as Alastair hated to admit it, Fairchild had a point. But Thomas was bloody stubborn, and of course he’d continued his patrols even knowing someone was following him. It might just as well have been the killer. How any of these Thieves were still alive today, Alastair had no idea.

‘Everyone be quiet,’ Charlotte said, calm but determined.

She reminded him of Charles right now, a thought that made him nauseous as he always was when he thought of his former lover. Determined not to show any emotion, Alastair studied his nails.

‘This is preposterous, Charlotte. Carstairs is lying to cover up for his friend,’ Bridgestock said.

‘They’re not friends,’ said James. ‘One of us might lie for Thomas. Not Alastair.’

That wasn’t quite true, Alastair would certainly lie for Thomas if it would save his life. Fortunately, he didn’t have to.

‘Then he’s probably mad with grief over his father’s death. Either way he’s not credible,’ Bridgestock snarled, looking at him with a rage that made Alastair suspect this was personal to him somehow.

‘And yet we are going to hear him out, and Thomas as well, because that is the task that is appointed to us,’ Charlotte Fairchild said, her tone cold as ice. Again she sounded just like her oldest son. ‘Thomas and Alastair both will be held here in the Sanctuary until they can be tried by the Mortal Sword.’

Alastair suspected something like this might happen, but did not look forward to the prospect of being locked up with Thomas Lightwood. He wasn’t sure he could take Thomas’ anger, even if it was completely justified. He would have to wear the mask until the consul came back.

‘You cannot make that decision without me,’ Bridgestock said. ‘I would try them right now, if not for the fact that the Mortal Sword is currently in Paris.’ Alastair couldn’t place the loathing in the Inquisitor’s voice when he said Paris.

‘Fortunately, Will and Tessa will be here tomorrow morning with the sword,’ said Charlotte. ‘Now, Maurice, I fear your eagerness to make your arrest known has only stoked panic. You had best come with me to the courtyard, to communicate that the Enclave has the matter well in hand. The identity of the accused will not be released until the Mortal Sword is employed tomorrow.’

Bridgestock gave one last furious look at the consul and then stalked out of the room. Alastair wondered, if someone did manage to break in here and take matters into his own hand, would they come for him first? Certainly, he looked a lot more murderous than Thomas.

Cordelia slipped through the entrance before the Inquisitor closed the door. Had she been here all this time? Alastair hadn’t seen her.

‘I heard,’ she said, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. ‘I was outside with Eugenia. I heard everything.’

‘Ghoseh nakhor, hamechi dorost mishe,’ Alastair said, stroking Cordelia’s back. Everything will be alright.

He lowered his voice. ‘Listen to me, Layla. I haven’t wanted to fret you, but Maman has been told by the Silent Brothers to keep to her bed, for the sake of her health and the baby’s. I do not think we should worry her more. Tell her I’m spending the night at the Institute to keep Christopher company.’

Cordelia blinked, Alastair could tell she was trying to hold back tears. ‘Yes, I’ll send a runner with a message, but will she believe that? You hardly know Christopher.’

He kissed his sister’s forehead, closing his eyes, letting go of the mask for a moment. ‘She’ll just be glad to think I have a friend, I suspect.’

His mother was always so concerned about his lack of friends, and Christopher was at least believable, he liked anyone who was willing to listen to his ramblings about science. Thomas had told him as much when they’d made the antidote together all those months ago.

‘Alastair,’ Layla said.

The consul didn’t let her finish. ‘This room has become entirely too crowded. All of you, save Alastair and Thomas, clear out. You too, Gideon. We must be seen to be cooperating, you do understand that.’

‘Indeed,’ Gideon Lightwood said, but Alastair wasn’t so sure he understood.

He smiled at Thomas, and it hurt to see the way they exchanged looks. What was it like, to have a father like that? Someone who cared enough to defend his son when he was accused of murder, who was offended at the idea of Thomas being locked in here.

“But it’s ridiculous just leaving them here, they need blankets, food, they’re not being tortured, Charlotte.’

‘Indeed not. They’ll have everything they need. Now Gideon, Christopher, Matthew, James, and you too, Cordelia, you must go.’

Reluctantly, all of them left, stopping next to Thomas for some encouraging words. Cordelia released him reluctantly and left with the boys. She turned around one last time. ‘If they don’t have the Mortal Sword here by tomorrow morning, I’ll break you out with Cortana.’

Alastair guessed that was something to look forward to.

‘I heard that!’ the consul scolded, but Alastair could see a faint smile on her face that was very much unlike Charles.

Everyone left, with ultimately the consul locking the door behind them, leaving him behind with Thomas. Good thing he’d brought a book, as he’d need to avoid Thomas’ anger for some time.

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Eugenia Lightwood #Charlotte Fairchild #Gideon Lightwood #Matthew Fairchild #James Herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #The Last Hours #tlh #Chain of Gold #Chain of Iron

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sly-merlin · 3 years

Text

KILLING ME - 4

(minor friendly chapter)

pairing : law student! Reader + yuta

Genre : angst, mafia au/arranged marriage au

Warnings : none.

Words : 5k

Summary:

"life's never fair y/n. Realise it as soon as you can. It is the only secret for living a regretless life."

"curiosity got the cat hitched"

K.m masterlist

A/n : this series is totally minor friendly now. ✨

Previous morning in Taeyong’s office

“What was that for!” taeyong questioned jaehyun, clearly annoyed by his previous hostile mannerisms towards you. Jaehyun was on the receiving end of taeyong’s infuriation immediately after you departed from his office with doyoung.

“What!?” Jaehyun tried to act oblivious to Taeyong's accusations.

“Why were you trying to scare her? Escort ring! For fucks sake Jae, I expected better from you.”

“But it wasn’t a dead loss. And even you went along in the same wagon, so don’t put everything on me alone.” Jaehyun justified himself by shrugging his shoulders lightly. “And admit it! She was giving you a hard time. That bitch was not buying anything!

Taeyong knew jaehyun was right. Your unsatisfied replies and never ending enquiries were exasperating him, but he would rather preserve his precious ego than admitting that to jaehyun.

He ruffled his well-made hair before replying to Jaehyun, who was expecting some gratitude with a smug face.

“I-- just be careful and refrain from doing and saying anything that might put a dent in my plan. It’s a chance Neo would never get again. So be patient and don’t go around opening your mouth about this to anyone.” jaehyun reluctantly nodded,not hearing what he wanted but his affirmation calmed taeyong’s nerves. He couldn’t trust jaehyun entirely but his options were limited.

All the pieces were in the right place, for now. Nothing could go south right!

But jaehyun couldn’t completely understand the rationale behind Taeyong’s design.

and nor could the figure standing outside, completely hidden from the insiders.

The dread of the forthcoming finals substantiated the shortage of vacant seats in the kwanjeong library. You tried your best to arrive as expeditiously as possible for a person who partied, got abducted, arranged her own marriage, and again partied in grief, all in spam of about 34 hours. Finding no available seat, you decided to settle down on the floor. You gulped your cup of Americano in one go and began with the donut. As per a wise saying, Caffeine and sugar were the best combination as a breakfast for someone trying to get through their day with only 4 hours of sleep, the intellect being none other than your own self!

Yesterday was a pretty long day. Though you were worn out from the adventures with wonwoo last night, your brain wasn’t exhausted enough to shut down properly when you tried to close your eyes.The flashes of the events had shrouded you with a mixture of regrets and worries. What was the guarantee that you won’t end up dead tomorrow! What if taeyong was lying! But the fact regarding moon industries was absolutely legible. Maybe you should get a restraining order or something! But the existence of a person is necessary for that and yuta was a fucking corporate in the public eye and you were sure taeyong held some powerful position in the rich hierarchy as well, otherwise, covering the shits without revealing their true identities was not the job of some measly gang leader. There was more to taeyong than what someone could perceive just by looking. Will you be considered one of them now! After the little stunt that landed you straight into yuta’s life, you weren’t sure that he’d not strangle you in sleep. And What were you going to say to them? Chelin, yeom, guk, yeong.

and your thoughts spiralled from taeyong,yuta towards chelin and your friends and didn’t rest anytime before 4a.m. Waking up at 8 sharp , you took a shower and made your way towards the library.

And now you were here. 2 students passed your figure indicating that there were 2 vacant seats. Finally, after 15 minutes. They might have been the overnight students, you thought and walked inside before anyone else could claim the treasure. You had to find a new topic of thesis and do some research for an international paper your professor was writing, and you being his designated so-called subordinate had to help him, involuntarily of course. But in this world, the student who could refuse their professor’s demands was yet to be born! Marking the place by placing your bag, you started the search for last month’ law journals and digests. One and a half hours passed, but you couldn’t find anything on the international court of justice i.e. what your professor hadn’t already included. The urge to go out was profusely weighed down by your own sentiment of avoiding your friends. So you decided in favour of swallowing the bitter pill.

5 hours passed. The vibration of the timer in your phone prompted you to run off and get some food. It was already 2:30 and the lack of real food was making the tasks harder than they already were. Stepping outside into fresh air, instant regret of not bringing an umbrella washed over you. The sun was too bright unlike your mood and walking all the way to your favourite canteen would end up in you getting another headache. But you silently wished that every being from yesterday’s party was suffering from the same treatment of the over-the-top optimistic planet. why to suffer alone!

“Shortie” you lifted your head, spotting the combo of buy 1 get 1 free, heading your way.

“Where were you the whole day? And if you aren’t going to pick calls then please do that poor thing a favour and sell it!” yugyeom barked while running his hand through his hair.

You shrugged jungkook’s elbow from your shoulder and replied “I was busy with prof. Joong’s work. And I have to be somewhere after 4 so I was a bit-

“Joong should adopt you already man!” Jungkook interrupted, nudging your sides with his fingers.

“ but I thought he wanted to be her sugar daddy!” At that gyeom gave a serious and stern look to kook, pretending to ponder over his statement for a second and then suddenly they both started laughing, hands hitting you everywhere to support their doubling figures.

“Get away from me, idiots!” you shouted, trying to get away from them. Once they were done with showing their exaggerated emotions, you all giggled together in unison. they were wearing their fundraiser t-shirts, you noticed.

“When is the fundraiser?”

“At 5. But you won’t be there to support us cause you are busy with your daddy!” kook exclaimed while bumping your shoulder with his arm.

“I didn’t say I’m going for Joong’s work and no, he’s not my sugar daddy, doofus. I’m busy with tutoring. I missed someone’s Saturday class so—

“Okay, chill tiger. You need to breathe. It’s a boring event anyway.” gyeom said in a comforting tone, interjecting your rapid fire speech.

“I’m gonna have lunch, are you two going?” you suggested.

“Yeah, it’s our break and Yeong and Minjun have eaten already, so that leaves you!” kook pouted when gyeom mentioned his boyfriend’s name.

“Let’s go! I want my sugar” your dramatic pout made yugyeom pet your hair lovingly and the three of you started walking on a stone pathway on the way to the canteen.

“Where’s your umbrella?” jungkook asked you. He knew how much you hated walking under the sun after the drinking escapades.

“I forgot but let’s not talk about it. it’s making me grumpy.”

“Okay! but why don’t you cover your head with that scarf instead.” he said pointing towards the silky material around your neck.

“Naahh, it ruins my fashion” they gave each other a puzzled look, shrugging their shoulders for they both couldn’t gather the reason for your weird behaviour.

At lunch, you talked to them about the fundraiser and gave your own contribution for the noble cause. The conversation with them progressed too easily and for about an hour you forgot about the turmoil in your life, which was still unknown to them.

After parting away, you went straight to your professor to show him your progress. He took note of the materials you found on recent cases and dismissed you without showing any gratitude. Not even a word of appreciation.

A ping!

Jaemin: noona, doyoung hyung is picking you up at 4 but he won’t enter the campus. Be out at 4!

You let out a frustrated groan at his text. You had only met him once, when he conferred upon you the honour of connecting your phone to his server but that was not the only favour you received! He also saved his contact number with various hearts that you obviously removed after reaching home. you could only pray to heavens that he won’t be there today as well!

You made your way to the library again, this time to work on your thesis. The time passed faster than you thought. The alarm you placed earlier vibrated, indicating it was 4 already! You hastily made your bag and ran out of the library. It took 10 minutes to reach the gates of the campus. When you passed your dorms building, the idea of ditching doyoung and going to bed sounded tempting but as usual, nothing was going your way these days. You felt like the old catch 22 was in action.

You passed through the gates and looked around the road to find doyoung's car but he was nowhere to be seen. While you were scanning the whole area, a low voice called your attention.

“What are you finding, I’m right here under your nose” a voice said through gritted teeth.

Yes, he was indeed sitting in the car right in front of you and the only one you missed apparently. You walked around the car to sit on the passenger seat, the tinted windows hiding you from the outside funfair.

“What took you so long? It's 4:15 already.”

“I don’t have a car like you so I walked myself here and it’s not like I did it purposely anyway.” You contended, the annoyance in your voice matching his own.

“Whatever, we are already late so turn around. Taeyong would be mad.”

“No I’m not turning around. First that cloth bag, then the handkerchief you tied on my eyes yesterday, its painful man. I’ll lose my eyesight this way. And I can navigate the whole city from this place, you can’t hide your dungeon from me now” you reasoned. He didn’t tie your hands yesterday but your eyes were still covered.

“Then give me your scarf. I’ll cover your eyes with your own choice of article. It’s not painful or else you won’t be wearing it right! he said mockingly, pointing towards your neck.

“Umm, this scarf is act-

“Give me that already. I have some other things to handle as well.” assessing your options, you hesitantly removed the scarf, turning around to face the window immediately. Doyoung tied it across your eyes, checking the knot twice and tapped your shoulder. As you turned around, doyoung’s doe eyes widened, if that was even possible. Your collarbone and neck, which was visible through your v neck top, was covered with pretty purplish bruises. You fidgeted with your hands, flustered, feeling his eyes on you. But he remained quiet, focusing on the task at hand.

The whole drive was quiet and though your hands were not tied, you kept them on your backpack, hesitant to start any conversation. The car stopped finally, the mixed feelings coming back. The same process followed. He guided you inside but this time you passed only one door and the walk was quite shorter as well.

As doyoung was about to remove your scarf, a hand stopped him, or that was what you understood from the movements at that time.

“Silky scarf, blindfold and hickies haan! Being kinky doyoungie. She’s your sister-in-law. Show some respect boy!” a voice remarked, the air around your face suddenly filled with chocolate and coffee. You hiccupped all of a sudden, earning a chuckle from the unknown presence.

You tried to reach for the blindfold, but your hands were caught mid-air, the said hands removing it. You blinked your eyes a few times to make out the figure’s face. He was standing, mostly bending to match your stature, face smiling to show all of his teeth.

Yuta.

You, surprised, took a step back but instead bumped into the one behind you.

“I’ll take over from here, doyoung.” but fortunately, he didn’t budge. Your hold on the backpack tightened, your eyes lowered to avoid his gaze. The only thing in your view were his baggy pants and white sports shoes.

But yuta could see only you and nothing else. Taeyong wasn’t the only one awaiting your arrival. Yuta was equally anticipating you. His night was just as sleepless and anxious as you. He was afterall at the other end of the rope.

He raised your head, fingertips lightly grazing your chin. His hooded eyes roamed around your face like he was expecting you to show some contempt , hatred,nervousness! He straightened up abruptly and started tying the silk around your neck. You flinched at his touch but he remained void of any reaction. His half denim jacket and white t-shirt hid you from the surroundings, his arms almost engulfing you. He repositioned himself to match your height again, arms crossing against his chest.

“Looks like someone had a fun night.” and in a second, his honey smile changed into a smirk, letting go of any trace of earlier softer expressions. And the look on his face was enough to scare the shit out of anyone.

“Stop yuta” a taller man you recognised from yesterday as Johnny, pushed yuta aside from your view. It was then you saw that everyone was there. Including the one you were yet to encounter.

Your eyes wandered from one side to the other. Johnny let you inspect.

“Doyoung, what was the need to cover her eyes?” Johnny whispered to doyoung, breaking your trance.

“Why is everyone nagging me so much” he whined in a screeching voice.

“Karma bitch” Johnny pointed his forefinger towards him before giving his attention to you.

“Hey, how are you y/n.” he asked, his cheerful voice totally in contrast with the weather of the room.

“I’m- ummm.” you cleared your throat before continuing. “I’m fine Johnny. As fine I can be.” you mumbled the last part but he surely heard you.

“You remembered my name!” he clapped, his eyes turning into crescents. You gave him a tight lipped smile in return, waiting for some instructions. As if on cue, taeyong’s loud voice graced your ears.

“Come y/n. make yourself comfortable” he indicated towards the couches that were almost already occupied. Johnny gestured to you to proceed, walking with you. You passed yuta who was still smirking and sat on the single seat available next to taeyong. You placed your backpack on the large table in the middle of the room. It looked like a normal living room for guests, just with too many couches to accommodate the gang. You felt like an uninvited because apparently everybody was watching you like a hawk. Their stares changed sight only when yuta came to take a seat on one of the couches, exactly opposite to yours. You met his eyes briefly before turning your face towards your bag again.

Who knew the rusty zips of your bag were so interesting!

“So y/n I thought you should meet everyone. You are going to be part of this family soon. Better get acquainted with all.” taeyong addressed you while he sat on his couch majestically like a king. You heard a dry laugh and if you had to guess it had to be from jaehyun or yuta.

You didn’t understand why he wanted that. You were just a risk till yesterday and now means to discipline yuta.

And why all the formalities if you were gonna leave anyway.

“I’m going to leave anyway, taeyong. So I don’t see a need to do it!

You were too consumed to notice how your sentence turned all the heads around you. Some started giving side eyes to each other. There was something they were all missing.

“I said you could leave. But not without my permission. So, you’d be stuck for now, maybe till months or years.”

You gulped at his words. Taeyong turned your only hope into a distant dream. Maybe you were too foolish to gauge the situation.

“You want something to eat or drink before we continue” he asked in a sincere voice. Shaking your head, you rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands to stop them from moistening. There was nothing more embarrassing than to cry in front of a bunch of strangers who didn’t give a shit about you.

“No, please continue.” you emphasised again to not draw any more attention to yourself than already was. And you internally thanked Taeyong who continued as if you weren’t just gonna cry!

“You will move in with yuta on Saturday,” it was Monday. “The wedding ceremony would be held in the morning. So you have a few days to prepare, everything from your dress to every other thing you need shall be arranged. Just name it and you’ll have it!”

Wedding ceremony! That was not on the plate!

“I don’t want a cerem-

“Leave the bullshit ta-

You and yuta both cut off each other simultaneously. You glanced at his side, finding him already piercing his gaze into yours.

“There’s no need for it. The paper signing is enough. It’s not like we are in-

You knew taeyong understood what you were trying to say, so you didn’t continue. But you were already having a feeling of superiority over yuta for being the first to offer your opinion. It felt like a payback for flustering you earlier. You refrained from facing him again, your body turned towards taeyong only, but you felt satisfied with the thought of him being riled up.

“Oh, but I want a ceremony taeyong and mark is going to be the best man. He’s so excited. You can’t do that to him!” yuta emphasised through the variation in his voice. You knew he changed his argument purposely , but you maintain your cool, opting to ignore him . bear and forbear.

Taeyong raised his eyebrow at you but you shook your head again.

“I don’t think it’d be a good idea. It’s not a normal one anyway so why pretend!” you held your ground.

“You aren’t getting married to a mannequin.” yuta retracted. “I’m getting married as well and don’t anyone dare say that I made a mistake and blah blah. At last I’ll be hitching so I want a ceremony and Japanese at that!”

Oh yeah, he was Japanese. You have missed that as well.

All the other men in the room, 9 to be exact, were nodding at everything that was being said. They were unable to decide whose argument was worth taking side for. Finally Johnny spoke-

“I think y/n is right” looking at nowhere in particular, he continued. “What’s with pomp and show when it’s nothing more than an agreement”

“But if yuta hyung wants it, then why not. They are going to live together, he should have his say as well.” It was Mark who took yuta’s side. He didn’t know why but watching yuta losing ground urged him to support his brother.

You looked briefly at the boy who just argued with Johnny.

“He’s mark y/n.” taeyong said the answer you were looking for. “And he’s Jungwoo, jeno, doyoung, you have already met him, then jaehyun, johnny, renjunie, hendery. Others are busy so you’ll meet them some other day probably.”

A few waved towards you, including Mark, who shyly withdrew his hand quickly. They all probably hated you as there was no other reaction towards a person who almost put your life in danger!

“Can we get to a middle ground now? I’m already getting tired of this” jaehyun grumbled, leaning into the couch.

“Ok so, he wants a celebration of a lie! What about me then? You are all here but I have no one. I’m alone and probably will be. Because taeyong, you haven’t told me how am I going to reveal this to my friends? I may not have a family, but still there are people close to me. They are my best friends, roommate, and many others who need to know! How am I going to explain to them that their friend who didn’t even have a boyfriend, is getting married suddenly? I don’t even have parents to cover it with an arranged marriage. How to convince them? Give me a way and I’ll agree” you pointed out the very important detail that they were missing. But they needed to know that there was other side of the paper as well and your reasons were not just a cry in the wilderness.

Nobody made a sound. Everything went quite like a dark night until-

“I hope this is not the calm before a storm!” you looked over to see the person who broke the silence. It was another young man coming with a food trolley, probably from the kitchen.

“I thought we have a guest so I prepared some coffee and donuts. I hope you like sweets y/n” the man was smiling ear to ear, seeming too happy with your visit.

“I-

“I’m kun.” he introduced himself and you shook his hand. He seemed too polite for a criminal. “Have this and tell me how it is” he forcibly handed you a dessert plate with a chocolate glazed donut. You took it out of politeness but felt a bit weird to be the only one eating it. You watched him with quizzical eyes as he took one for himself and sat on the arm of your couch. Everyone was now staring at your movements.

“Eat it, eat it. These are for you and me only.” he cajoled.

You decided to take a bite and then place it back just to stop the awkwardness.

As you bit it from one side, your brain short circuited. “Holy shit, bro. What is this sorcery.” your genuine and innocent reaction made Kun laugh loudly, some of the others joined in as well.

“Thank god, you like it! I’m so glad you aren’t one of weight conscious ones, otherwise it’d have been weird.” he started munching on his own piece.

“I’m a sugar bear. I can’t live without sugar. I just had a donut in the morning but it was bleh compared to this. You are a master chef bro.” and for a minute you forgot the previous tense environment. Everyone was glad that Kun came to save the situation and except to you, it was known that obviously he heard everything from the kitchen.

“You ate one in the morning! Then it’s the last one you’re getting. Everyone help yourself. She’s not having any more!” as if they were waiting, everyone except mark and yuta picked them up.

“Mark” Kun motioned towards the tray and he grabbed one as well.

“What if I was allergic to chocolate, kun” you asked him while finishing your treat.

“Oh please! Even ten eats it.” he laughed to himself at his reference, which went over your head.

“Now coming to the point.” Everyone looked at taeyong who was already done with eating. “Y/n doesn’t want anything special so it’ll happen like that. No!yuta, lemma speak. And you y/n, it’s upon you to make your friends believe. Make up a story or do whatever you want. You don’t want to tell them about the wedding. Fine with me but do let them know at least that you have a boyfriend that you are moving in with! It’s on you both to make this arrangement believable.

“okay , sho now I shuggenly hab a voyfiend” you started speaking without even finishing the bite in your mouth. you continued once you chewed it.

“won't they be suspicious. They know exactly what I do and what I don’t. It’s almost impossible to put a façade in front of them.”

“Oh please, don’t tell me they even know from where you got those hickies” jaehyun’s curt statement was a hit below the belt. Kun was about to scold him when you elaborated his statement further to prove that he was doing nothing but burning his own fingers.

“Yes, actually they happen to know. When, where and from whom I got these. Anything else you want to ask?.” he rolled his eyes on your reply, busing himself with the delicacy instead.

“They don’t know yuta. So if you want you can introduce him to your people. He won’t be posing any problem, take my word for it.”

“I’ll go with you if you also accompany me,that I guess would be a problem for you. You don’t want to be seen with a criminal, or do you!” yuta jabbered. He was trying to push your buttons to measure your limit. But little did he know that you were far from being that easy.

“I just said I don’t want a wedding. I’ll agree to anything that is reasonable and is not degrading to me.”

“Ok then, nobody would force you to do what you don’t want.” Taeyong decided to take matters into his own hands now. “And we’ll organise a small, very intimate gathering at taeil’s office to celebrate as yuta wants. And you’ll be introduced as Mrs. Nakamoto to our corporate world.” taeyong finished gauging both of your reactions. The surname was foreign and cringing to you. But it was going to be yours, so there was nothing you could do, for now.

“What do you mean ‘our’ corporate world.” you got puzzled at his choice of words.

“You’ll find out soon and it's nothing scary, don’t worry.” Kun responded on behalf of taeyong this time, handing you your cup of coffee. “Tell me if it’s cold, I’ll-

“No it’s totally fine.” you assured him, without even taking a sip. He was being nice enough already.

“If my opinion has no value, then what am I even doing here!” yuta shouted, getting up from the seat.

“yut-

Before Kun could say anything, he stormed off. Mark tried to follow but taeyong stopped him from doing that.

“Don’t mind him. He’s a hot head.” Johnny laughed in between his bites.

You only nodded, sipping your coffee. You were glad he was gone. Sugar has always done wonders for you and it was having the same effects now as well. You were able to think more rationally now.

“One more thing” you furrowed your brows at taeyong. What was left now! “Do you want any specifications in the house? It’s my responsibility. A wedding gift you can say. If you need anything like extra closet, a more spacious kitchen-

“Kitchen?” you let out a brief chuckle at that. Everyone’s eyes were on you now. “It’ll be totally fine if I don’t even get a kitchen. I can’t cook anything besides ramyeon and salads. So I won’t even need that.”

“You are a student. Don’t you know anything basic.” It was Jungwoo who spoke in the sweeter voice than Kun's.

“No. I grew up in an orphanage and they provided us everything. I left when I started law. So all in all, I never had anyone to teach me. That’s why if you want to know best food trucks and restaurants in the city, I’m your best option.but, if that yuta knows how to cook, ask him about the kitchen.” you spoke nonchalantly .But you didn’t realise how uncomfortable the air had become. a heavy silence took over the light atmosphere.

“I’m sorry noona” Jungwoo apologised sheepishly.

“It’s fine. After all there are some things that your hacker can’t find out. only I can tell you those.” saying that, you faced taeyong again. “But if you insist, I can always use a study room.” you tried to enlighten the mood again.,ppp

“Ok. I’ll find something suitable for you both.” you hummed, not knowing what to say anymore.

“Can I go back now?”

“Yes, doyoung will drop you.”

“No, I’ll go with her.” Johnny said, grabbing your attention. He didn’t look sulky like doyoung so, it’d be fine, you guess.

They said you goodbyes. Mark seemed hesitant to even look at you, but you couldn’t care less. He was just a stranger after all.

Yuta couldn’t realise why everyone was trying to be so nice to you. Till yesterday, he was allowed to put a gun on her head but now every being was against him. He didn’t know why he was so furious at Taeyong, to force him to marry you or for dragging Mark into this mess. Taeyong knew how to play dirty, but yuta never thought he’d use his own brother. There was no option for him as well, as taeyong has said. He showed interest in a fucking celebration to contradict you, but you were not backing down and that felt like a punch to his gut.

He drove towards his stress reliever. The infamous Japanese club, the only place where he could drown his sorrows.

The club was packed despite it being Monday. That was one thing he liked about it, you’ll never be disappointed in this place.

“ゆた!” The hostess chimed seeing yuta. “久しぶり” [ long time, no see!]

He signed her to give him 2 shots. She did as told but her gaze was following yuta’s, which rested on her cleavage. He came here only for 2 things after all.

He gulped the drink in a second without blinking an eye.

“バックルーム” [ back room]

She wasn’t someone to be told twice. She handed her hand towel to her co-worker and followed the path. Who was she to reject him after all?

He drove back silently again. The relief he felt was all dissipated now. Instead his mind was already wandering towards you. Your headstrong attitude was troubling him. his plans were all down and out. He hated you , from the moment he laid his eyes on you. You acted like you were invincible but he knew it was just a mask to protect yourself.

He had noticed how you rubbed your eyes to hide your disappointment for you didn’t want to appear weak. All he had to do now was to find a vulnerable part of you, to hit you where it’d hurt the most. It’d be last time he lost to you.

Afterall, beginning is always easy, it is continuing that’s hard!

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct mafia #nct series #nct fluff #nct angst #nct x reader #nct arrange marriage #yuta scenarios #yuta imagines #yuta x reader #yuta mafia #yuta arrange marriage #yuta angst #yuta fluff #nct fanfics

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thefinalcinderella · 3 years

Text

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 8 - Winter Comes Again (Part 1)

Full list of translations here

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A team with only ten runners had passed the qualifiers and was now in the Hakone Ekiden.

This spectacular achievement accomplished by the residents of Chikusei-sou was widely talked about, not just by the university athletics world.

Since the Hakone Ekiden began being televised in 1987, there was hardly anyone who didn’t know the name of this event for student runners in the Kanto region. Whether it was due to the grueling nature of the race or the glamour and glitz that aired on New Year’s Day, the Hakone Ekiden never failed to attract attention.

Only ten people were taking on that famous competition. Why would they think of doing such a reckless thing? What would happen if someone got injured or sick on the day of the event? What kind of daily training regimen did they follow, and how did they live?

Curious locals and students who wished to join the team began to visit Chikusei-sou incessantly. Most of the students had no experience in track and field, but when they found out that the team had passed the qualifiers, many of them asked to join the team in a temporary rush of excitement.

Kiyose carefully wrote on a piece of paper that he would turn down all visits and stuck it on the door of Chikusei-sou. He appreciated them wanting to join, but the Kansei University boom would soon die down, they couldn’t enter without an official record, and Chikusei-sou was already full. After much deliberation, Kiyose decided that it would be better for the ten of them to concentrate on training and unite to compete in Hakone rather than take in any new members.

With regards to the locals, the shopkeepers of the shopping district told them to not get in the way of training and most of the locals were now content to just peek at Chikusei-sou from over the hedges. The exceptions were the old people who quietly supplied produce from their fields.

As Kakeru was leaving for his morning jog, he noticed napa cabbages and pears placed outside the door. Is this some kind of repayment? He thought. Nira, who had watched the old people’s actions without barking, only wagged his tail at him. In the end, without knowing who did it, the residents of Chikusei-sou filled their stomachs with the produce that was often left at their door.

Of course, requests for interviews flooded in from the media. Not just track and field magazines, but also weekly magazines, newspapers, and TV; every kind of media outlet they could think of had been trying to contact them. Kiyose and Shindou investigated them all carefully and refused almost all requests with “We want to concentrate on our training.”

However, they agreed to an interview with Monthly Track and Field’s Sanuki and Yomiuri Shimbun’s Nunoda, who had been supporting them since the summer training camp. The two understood the psychology of runners well, so they watched them train without interfering and briefly asked them the most pertinent questions. Favorable articles about the people of Chikusei-sou were then published in the respective mediums.

The twins and King were over the moon and insisted on accepting more interviews.

“We’re actually going to Hakone, you know? It’s better to be noticed,” Jouta said.

“It might even help with getting a job,” King said.

“Instead of thinking about that, you need to get more serious about training. Otherwise, your pathetic running will be televised all over the country, and you’ll get attention whether you like it or not.”

Even when Kiyose flatly rejected them, the twins and King didn’t give up.

“No? We wanna be on TV. TV, TV!” they yelled. Kakeru was astonished as he watched the offense and defense unfolding at the dinner table.

Just the thought of competing in the Hakone Ekiden was enough to make Kakeru nervous and elated. But on top of that, the twins wanted the “extraordinary” experience of being interviewed on TV. Were they too simple-minded, were they greedy, or were they just fearless?

Until that spring, the twins had lived without having any connection to long-distance running, so they might not have had a clear idea of the significance of the Hakone Ekiden.

The Hakone Ekiden, which began in 1920, took place every year with the exception of a few years during the war. Even amidst the food shortage after the war, the runners put on their sashes and aimed for the mountains of Hakone—that's how important it was as an event for runners, with more than eighty years of tradition.

The Hakone Ekiden was what student runners yearned and dreamed of; the twins might not have fully understood the meaning and value of participating in such an event. But even though they didn’t understand, they trained and had the ability to claim their place to take part in it, so they were no ordinary people. Kakeru was impressed and amused by this.

Between them, the twins continued their appeal with Kiyose, who was silently moving his chopsticks.

“Hey, hey, let’s go on TV at least once.”

“We can have that perk, at least. After all, Haiji-san, you’re…”

“What about me?” Kiyose's chopsticks stopped moving. Jouta and Jouji suddenly closed their mouths and squirmed like they wanted to say something, but finally shook their heads.

“Nothing.”

In the end, Kiyose gave in and they ended up accepting a TV interview: on the evening news, in a five-minute topic segment, the lives of the residents of Chikusei-sou were going to be introduced.

TV cameras came and filmed Prince’s room full of manga and Nico-chan’s room full of small quit-smoking dolls that were scattered around his futon that he never put away. They also filmed their training in the field and interviewed the members.

The twins and King took the lead in the interview. We don’t know if things just followed their course or if it was because we were threatened by Haiji-san, but we found ourselves aiming for Hakone. We eat lemons soaked in honey every day to avoid catching colds. We don’t do any special training. We believe we have the same kind of regimen as the track clubs in other universities.

Kakeru, as usual, stood meekly in the corner, just far enough away that he was partially cut off by the cameras.

“Why are you hiding, Kakeru?” Yuki asked.

But Kakeru only smiled vaguely and dodged the question with, “No, I'm not really.” Nico-chan, who was watching over the interview, looked back at him.

“You’re not gonna tell us that you’re a wanted fugitive, are you?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

That’d be cool, though, Nico-chan said and gave him a suspicious look.

“Putting that aside, there’s been a strange mood lately, don’t you think?” Yuki said. Nico-chan nodded, I guess so.

Kakeru had also noticed it; it had become somewhat strained within Chikusei-sou. The first-floor residents were the same as before, and most of the people living on the second floor were practicing with the same attitude as usual. The twins, however, seemed to be clearly depressed. To be frank, it was regarding Kiyose.

They didn’t argue with him or act defiant towards him. However, they tried to keep a subtle distance. Although Kiyose treated Jouta and Jouji as he always had, they couldn’t seem to be open with him for some reason. For some reason, their trust in Kiyose seemed to have faded.

This awkwardness spread through Chikusei-sou, and a somewhat uncomfortable atmosphere had persisted ever since the qualifiers ended.

“I wonder what’s going on,” Nico-chan said. “Kakeru, you’re in the same year as them—ask them casually.”

“What do I ask?”

“About what’s in their heart, of course.”

“Aah…yes.”

Although he answered with that, Kakeru honestly felt that it was a heavy burden.

Training was becoming more and more voluminous and dense. They slowly ran the first 5000 meters of the 12,000 meter run in 17 minutes, then increased the pace and ran the last 1000 meters at a pace of 3 minutes and 0.5 seconds. After that, they did five 1000 meter runs of 2 minutes and 55 seconds with a 200-meter interval in between.

Kakeru did his best to think about his own running. Was the swinging of his arms, the angle of his feet when he landed on the ground, the relaxing and tensing of his muscles okay like this? His consciousness stretched around every inch of his cells and he checked his running with every step.

Of course, he had to attend his university classes in between training sessions, but it was hard to have to pay attention to other people as well.

One time, he happened to be in the Tsuru no yu public baths with the twins. When the twins went to the washing area, Kakeru and Kiyose soaked in the bathtub with their backs to the painting of Mount Fuji, and conversed with the plasterer who happened to be there.

“How’s it going, Haiji? How are the Chikusei-sou guys?” the plasterer asked. He was sitting in the hot water with his back to the washing area, so he didn’t notice the twins. The twins, who would usually call out to them, saw Kiyose by the bathtub’s faucet and only slightly bowed without a word.

“They’re doing good,” Kiyose answered the plasterer.

“The first-years did pretty good.” The plasterer pulled his hands out of the water and rubbed his face. “Kakeru did great too, but look at those identical twins—they’re pretty fast too, aren’t they?”

Kakeru fretted over how Kiyose would answer. Behind the plasterer, Jouta and Jouji were straining their ears to listen. Perhaps because he was distracted by the conversation, Jouji lost control of his hands and spilled a large amount of shampoo on his head.

“They really are,” Kiyose smiled. “I can’t say it in front of the people themselves, but they run well.”

“Really?” Jouta stood up from his chair in the washing area, and the plasterer looked behind him with a start.

“What’s the point in lying?” Kiyose rose from the bathtub. “Sir, we’re raising promising runners, so please continue to support us from the shopping district. I will be taking my leave now.”

He walked past the twins’ backs, opened the sliding door of the baths and disappeared into the changing room.

“He only praised us ‘cause we were here,” Jouji muttered to no one in particular. But he couldn’t hide the fact that he was happy. He shampooed his head so vigorously that it was covered in dense bubbles in the blink of an eye.

“What’s with you guys? You didn’t even say hello.”

After the plasterer compared Kiyose’s and the twins’ words and actions, he turned to Kakeru, who was still in the bath. “Are they fighting by any chance?”

He was asked that in a whisper. “Well,” Kakeru sank up to his shoulders in the water. “I don’t think that’s the case.”

The twins might have been dissatisfied with Kiyose in some way, however they couldn’t hide it within themselves forever. If anything, he would say that it was because they had openhearted and naïve personalities; he was sure that they would let their emotions erupt at the earliest opportunity and directly vent them to Kiyose. It wasn’t too late to try and solve the problem.

Kakeru decided to leave the twins alone. He shouldn’t intentionally nudge a dormant volcano; when an eruption occurred, they would naturally discover where the crater is. After carefully assessing the location and wind direction, they could take shelter and wait for the overflowing lava to cool. That was what he thought.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

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moonrabbitisgay · 4 years

Text

Alright so I’m writing a Teba x Link x Revali fic, and it was originally supposed to be a 1000-2000 word oneshot, but...well, let’s just say I’m at almost 3000 words now and only about 10% of the way through the plot, so. Yeah.

Anyway, I’m impatient and want to share, but I don’t want to break this up into sub-2000 word chapters, so...I’m just posting a big ol’ chunk of it as, uh, a really long teaser, I guess! I hope y’all enjoy :)

___

Teba knows he’s fucked from the moment he meets Link.

He’s met a few Hylians before, but this one stands out. He’s more...colorful than any other Teba’s seen before, with his golden hair and electric blue eyes and the strange hoops adorning his pointed ears. Teba can’t help but think that he’s far prettier than a Hylian male has any right being, a thought which he immediately pushes out of his mind with an angry huff.

At first, it’s easy to ignore. They have business to attend to, and if he feels a twinge of worry every single time Link narrowly dodges one of Vah Medoh’s lasers, that’s just because he can’t live with another injured warrior on his conscience. The ache in his chest when he leaves him alone on the deck of the Divine Beast is just disappointment in himself, for being foolish enough to get himself injured, and for leaving what should be the business of the Rito to a Hylian stranger.

(The genuine worry in Link’s eyes makes him feel a little better, though.)

When Vah Medoh perches directly above the village, there’s a flurry of panic. After a few minutes, as it seems content to simply sit there with its beak pointed toward the castle, the mood turns to conspiracy, which is only elevated when Harth and Mazli fly up to investigate and return with the unconscious bodies of Link and a Rito male that no one in the village recognizes. Teba misses all of it, laying on a small cot and staring dejectedly at the crossed wooden beams of the infirmary ceiling, and by the time Link and the stranger are brought in he has fallen asleep.

He awakens the next morning to see Link curled up on a cot a few feet away from him, clutching the blankets, a hole the size of his hand burned into his shirt on the left side of his stomach and charred flesh underneath. On the other side of the room, a mess of dark blue feathers lies crumpled in a hammock.

Saki and Harth drift in and out of the room all morning, fussing over the three of them. Link wakes around noon, bringing a hand gingerly to his wound and wincing. Teba sits up and clucks disapprovingly, and Link’s gaze swivels around to him.

“How’s your leg?,” he signs, and Teba huffs.

“Better than your side. What the hell happened in there?”

Link laughs, a breathy little sound. “There was a monster, possessing Medoh. I managed to kill it, but it was a hard fight.”

Teba nods slowly. He finds it hard to believe that this tiny Hylian single-handedly calmed the beast that had shot so many of their finest warriors (including himself, he thinks with a grimace) out of the sky, but according to Saki, it had been completely still for the roughly 16 hours since it landed. And, on some instinctive level, he trusts that Link is telling the truth.

“So who’s this?,” he asks, gesturing at the hammock, and Link looks over. His eyes widen, and he starts to push himself up before falling back onto the cot with a small whimper. A flood of worry rushes through Teba, and before he has time to think about what he’s doing he’s on the floor next to Link, carefully placing a wing on his chest.

“Hey now.” He intends it to be soft, comforting, but it comes out gruff. He tries again. “They’re gonna be okay. Saki and Harth will make sure of that.” Link relaxes a little, and Teba nods approvingly. He stays there, watching carefully, until the silence stretches on for a little too long and he coughs awkwardly and shuffles back to his cot. “...So?”

Link frowns, glancing back over at Teba. “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me.”

Teba raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t believe you when you said you could calm Vah Medoh, and yet here we are.”

“I suppose.” He fiddles with the hem of his tunic, looking uncomfortable. Teba watches with a slowly growing sense of trepidation, wondering what could possibly make him so hesitant to answer such a simple question. Eventually, he spells out a name.

“Revali.”

“...Revali.”

Link nods.

“As in—”

Link nods. Teba can feel the feathers on the back of his neck rising. “This stranger had the gall to claim to be Master Revali, one of the most celebrated Rito warriors in history, who lived one hundred years ago...and you believed him?!”

“He didn’t claim anything. He was barely conscious enough to land Vah Medoh. I...recognized him.”

Teba just...stares. He recognized him? What the hell does that mean? Link swallows and looks away, and Teba starts guiltily.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and Link gives him a thin smile.

“I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, I just-” He shakes his head. “You recognized him? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Link shrugs. “I could explain that too, and then you’d really think that I’m off the deep end.”

“Try me.”

Link laughs again, louder this time (and Teba’s stupid heart flutters, just a little).

“If you insist,” he responds, and Teba nods. “One hundred years ago...I was the Princess of Hyrule’s appointed knight. I knew all of the Champions, including Revali.” He grimaces. “After we lost, I was...my body was taken to a shrine on the Great Plateau. It healed me, but took away my memories. I’m only just starting to get them back...”

“Link,” Teba says quietly, and he looks over. Teba hesitates for a moment— it feels cruel, somehow, to question what he says, as wildly unbelievable as it is. He forges ahead anyway. “Do you...do you have any proof of this? At all?”

Link gestures helplessly. “I know it sounds insane. Your Elder, he recognized my Sheikah Slate. He believes I’m a descendent of the Hylian champion, which I guess is a lot more believable.”

“I guess.”

They sit in silence. Link looks at the ceiling, then over at the hammock, then back at the ceiling. Teba thinks about his tunic, a shade of blue more vibrant than he thought possible to make fabric in, an unsettlingly similar blue to Vah Medoh’s lasers. And the eye on the back of the strange slate he carries, identical to the eyes of Vah Medoh’s cannons.

Saki pokes her head in. “Oh, good. You’re awake. And you—” she points at Teba, “you should be lying down.”

“I’m not putting weight on it,” he counters, “and it’s healing quickly. It was a shallow wound.”

“Hm.” She doesn’t push, and he’s grateful for it. Instead, she walks over to the hammock, bending over to carefully examine the unconscious Rito. “I may have to ask Amali to make him another elixir. His external wounds seem to be mostly healed, but his breathing is still shallow.” She turns to Link. “How are you feeling?”

She dresses the wound on Link’s chest and worries over Teba’s leg before leaving, and a few minutes later Harth comes in with two plates of steamed salmon. Link insists that he can feed himself despite not being able to sit up, and it’s not until after he’s dropped three entire bites of salmon on the floor that Teba insists upon helping him. He apologizes profusely, but Teba waves it off. He’d done the same for Harth last week. Link goes back to sleep not long after eating, leaving Teba alone with his thoughts again. He watches for a few minutes, wondering at the strange sense of protectiveness he feels toward this strange Hylian he met only yesterday.

He doesn’t think Link is lying. Even to him, it’s clear as day that he believes every word he’s saying. Which means that either he actually did wake up in a strange shrine on the Great Plateau with his memory gone, or he’s horrifically delusional. Teba knows which one of those answers he prefers.

Then there was the strange tablet— a Sheikah Slate, he’d called it. On his hip, it appeared to be a plain stone slab, elaborately carved and painted but otherwise ordinary. Teba knew, though, that on the side facing inward it was not stone, but a strange, smooth surface that started off dark and lit up when touched. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but Link had mentioned that it let him fast-travel to any of the shrines he’d visited before.

At first, Teba had shrugged it off as some fancy adventurer’s technology, but now that he thought about it, it was...strange. He’d only ever seen two shrines, the one just outside the village and the one near the Flight Range, and they had both essentially just been elaborately carved hunks of rock for as long as he or anyone else could remember. They’d both flared up with mysterious orange light about a month ago, the same day that mysterious tower had risen in the east and Vah Medoh had appeared, circling ominously close to the village. Maybe he should ask Link what he knows about them...

He sighs and turns away, moving back to his cot and collapsing backwards, suddenly aware that he’s tired as well. He should get some more rest, hopefully be able to leave the infirmary by tomorrow and get back to training within the week. He’s not 100% convinced that Vah Medoh won’t start causing problems again, and if it does, he needs to be ready for it, with or without Link’s help.

It’s difficult to fall asleep— he’s not used to sleeping in the same room as other people, it feels weirdly invasive— but after a while of turning the same thoughts over and over in his head until they dissolve into mush, he manages.

He wakes up to dark skies and Saki holding a platter of meat skewers and three elixirs. She hands Teba and Link one each of the former and puts the platter down between them, before moving over to the hammock and carefully pouring the third into the unconscious Rito’s mouth. She briefly examines Teba’s leg as he eats and tells him that he should stay in the infirmary overnight. He nods.

“Thank you for everything,” Link signs as she re-bandages his wound. She nods in acknowledgment.

“Thank you for helping Teba,” she responds, “and our village. We are all very grateful.”

Link flushes, and Teba tries not to think about how cute it is.

He can sit up now, albeit with a bit of a pained expression. It fades as he eats, but he still collapses back into his pillow as soon as he’s done. “You guys have good food,” he signs, and Teba chuckles.

“Amali is a good cook.”

“How’s your leg?”

“Healing well.” He frowns. “You’re in much worse shape than I am, you shouldn’t worry about me.”

Link just shrugs.

“Well, I do,”

he responds, and Teba has nothing to say to that.

___

Fuckin uhhhh yeah

Keep your eyes peeled for the rest of this in like, three months or something IDK

#breath of the wild #teba #revali #link #revali x link #revalink #teba x link #tebalink #teba x revali #tevali #teba x link x revali #tevalink #yes i just made up three ship names don't @ me #my writing #i'm writing these tags like 1000 words in #and oh my god this is going to be so much longer #and have so much more dialogue #than i was planning #edit: i was right

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dyketubbo · 3 years

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Wilbur is a Prince of Heart fucking bite me

*clears throat* now that i have your attention please watch as i become mentally ill and explain why wilbur soot is a dirk strider kinnie. all /rp of course. analysis under the cut because i talk. so much.

basic summary: wilbur is destructive about emotions, he destroys others emotionally and most notably destroys himself for being emotional, he wants to be in control and spirals when he loses it but ultimately falls down mentally from broken trust and a misguided want to care for and about others. he lashes out at perceived flaws and puts people into titles, such as putting himself as a villain, and perceives himself as a negative force overall but is unable to stop caring and as such can often turn to using how much he cares into a destructive force. he needs to learn how to healthily let go of control and how to trust others. he used to care healthily and needs to relearn how to do so, but the fact that he is growing into becoming a healthy heart player when he fell due to untreated destructive tendencies is a signifier of being a prince

oh classpects my beloved <3 as a heart player (thief of heart :]) wilbur is absolutely a heart player and anyone who says otherwise is Wrong. anyways what people not super into the classpecting buiz dont know is that while aspects can have certain aesthetics tied to them, they arent defined by those aesthetics, and sometimes themes present in characters is uh, just them being characters and doesnt have anything to do with classpects. thats why every canon heart player in homestuck has something to do with romance (especially failed romance), but being a heart player does not mean youre inherently tied to romance, not really. also characters are often influenced by others and that can mess with things, but classpects are an ultimatum, you have to look at the whole arc of a character to classpect them, and thats hard in a story thats not done yet like the dream smp

but anyways. aspect is more about worldview, its how you see things, and it can either be something youre born into or something you grow into (which is determined by your class- for example, tommy is a knight because hes always had a connection to blood [which is also why i like knight more than thief, because as a thief, thief classes take their aspect and did not always have them, but tommys always been connected to blood, to relationships, in a literal sense he protects {knight} his relationships {blood} and sticks by them {also knight}]) which i think is why it can be so hard for people to agree on one aspect- you have to consider whether or not that character always embodied it or if they grew into it. in a world of unreliable narrators, worldviews have to be actively read into and you have to often push what a character says aside because they may be straight up lying. and because theyre lying, that can affect how they come off and their actions and words may seem disconnected when they arent

wilburs hard to get a handle on his class because of how often he contradicts the fuck out of himself, his aspect is easier to figure out because we've known him long enough to see how he fits into the heart mold- he cares about others, definitely! but he does have a vaguely inherent selfishness about him (calling l'manburg *his*, destroying it because he cant have it, because he's paranoid and doesn't think theres a chance of it ever being what it was meant to be, even when hes given the chance to have it again he destroys it instead because he doesnt want to try and fix it, claiming he doesnt care even though he destroyed it because he cared too much). unhealthy heart players can be cunning but impulsive, perceptive but emotional and falling into gut instincts. exploring their own identities and others identities as well, placing importance in titles and roles and all that jazz, and what parts of this are played into or not is determined by class

wilbur is a prince because princes have a significant projection of self importance. but because princes either destroy their aspect or through their aspect, and are active destroyers, they can often destroy things (or people) if they believe its not working correctly, or if theyre losing control. unhealthy princes can often lash out and destroy others and themselves for perceived weaknesses, and will often focus on themselves. unhealthy princes often start thinking theyre the root of why theres so many shitty things going on. princes in general also try really hard to compensate for insecurities and do by justifying what happens to them with narratives that they deem to be correct. they arent actively malicious, but if they see a perceived flaw it can often piss them off and cause them to lash out

wilbur loses control (and i must note here, he also loses trust, and accepting that you can trust others and that its okay to not be in control is a sign of a healthy prince) and spirals because of betrayal and paranoia, and that only makes him want more control over what happens so that he cant be betrayed again. he tries to destroy his own emotions, becomes distant and untrusting, tries to destroy others emotions by stating his own current worldviews and stating that they cant trust others and that hes going to destroy what and who they care about. however, because wilbur is still emotional and still cares, as a apart of his character, he still often backs out of destruction (or offers himself up to be destroyed instead, "if youre going to kill anyone kill me"), its in his most conscious moments that he shows that hes not as malicious as he wants people to see him as. he sees himself as a villain and as the cause of all bad things, and encourages pursuits of power because he sees control and power as good things

tommys quote of "he treated other people badly because he wanted to be treated badly" (paraphrased of course) works well here for why wilbur is a prince. he destroyed because he wanted to be destroyed, destroyed lmanburg and hurt others and drove them to hurt others (the pit) because he saw himself as a destructive force needed to be taken down. he wanted to be in control of his life, his safety, others safety, of his possessions and of the narrative, and it all swirled into him wanting to be in control of his own death. bards are too passive, they invite destruction rather than cause it, wilbur can be mistaken as a bard because of how he often acts with tommy, but that can also be seen as a princely thing of trying to be in control of who he cares about

also the lying about what he cares about feels very prince of heart lol. bitch saying he doesn't care about l'manburg then staring wistfully at the van.. yeah. he cares. but it serves his goal more to pretend he doesn't. l'manburg itself was a decision driven by emotion, it's an emotional priority, and that's why wilbur cares about it (heart move), but wants to destroy it because he feels like the original emotions he put behind it are gone and corrupted and that he and others no longer deserve it (prince move). as such, he clashes with tommy, who cares about it because he got a family from it (blood move) and wants to protect it and keep everyone involved safe (knight move)

you could argue that wilbur fits classes like witch because of how he manipulates emotions and others but i think that lays way into how revivedbur is currently acting and not how wilbur is as a whole. he's too driven by impulses to be a witch, and i think a witch wilbur would be way more actively villainous than a prince wilbur, however surprising that may sound. princes are destructive sure, but ultimately their downfall comes from whether they trust others or not, and wilbur only trusting tommy (and maybe phil? im waiting to see more interactions between them to see if wilbur is going to really be open to phil or not) isn't enough to save wilbur from his spiral. he needs to learn how to healthily release control and how to trust others, how to step back and snap out of thinking he knows best. also i feel that it's a bit easier to see when princes are full of shit than it is to see when a witch is full of shit lmao, at least from a personal perspective, of course when you're a viewer of the story it's easier to see manipulation than it is when you're apart of the story

#dsmp #hs #wilbur #dsmp analysis #dsmp classpects #mask mews #implied suicide #ask to tag #also ghostbur is absolutely a splinter ala hal #i think ghostbur would probably have a different class but still be a heart player. maybe ghostbur is the witch? hmmm #idk. ill think about it maybe #oh wait tommys talked about pretty often here #tommy

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egelantier · 4 years

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Yuletide Recs

Having had two days of more or less nothing but reading fics, I come bearing recs!

First of all, my amazing gifts:

The Goblin Emperor

For Thy Principles

The nohecharei of Edrehasivar VII were unparalleled in their defense of his person, but there were limits to even their prowess. When Maia first developed the fever, Cala quickly determined that it was not the end result of a magically-based assassination attempt – and from there it had to be left to the court physicians.

Maia falls ill, and Csethiro protects him as best she can.

Beautifully gentle Maia sickfic, with Csethiro holding him together. For me all for meeee.

Benjamin January Mysteries

Dry as a Bone

“Oh. Well, I’ve been better, maestro, been a hell of a lot better to tell truth.” Shaw stared at him for a long moment, and he was stunned to see honest to God grief in his eyes. Even when Shaw had just lost his brother he had been so much more himself than this lost man currently standing before him. “Not that I mean to put anything extra on your shoulders, I’m sure you’ve got enough of your own shit going on at present moment, but it seems like I’ve just lost my job.”

Shaw loses his job, and finally confronts Ben about trust (and lack thereof) between them. It’s GREAT.

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards

A Distraction Worth Losing

They may never be together, but the gods would have to move heaven and earth to split Rune and Brand apart.

Brand, Rune and The Kiss incident. (Poor messed up babies, somebody save them.)

And fics of the collection:

17776, Astreiant, Raksura, Frederica, The Gentlemen, The Goblin Emperor, Hades, Innkeeper Chronicles, Jeeves, Kate Daniels, King Arthur the movie, My Next Life as a Villainess, Nirvana in Fire, No. 6, Psmith, The Secret Garden, The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty, Swordspoint, The Tarot Sequence, Teixcalaan Series, The Temple of the White Rat verse

17776: What Football Will Look Like in the Future

so far, so fast

When Manny gets a craving for some fancy meal he had once, over ten thousand years ago, Nick decides he’s gonna fulfill that craving, no matter how hard it is. Because real romance is about making the impossible happen for his husband.

Goddamn transcendental.

Go Get It

Sometimes you start out just planning to get some groceries with your husband, and next thing you know, you’re committing to join the most hopeless team in college football.

Nick and Manny decide to play. It’s perfect.

Afterlife

A young man dies six months before the end of human death; his loss saves five lives, which end up much longer than anyone expects. (A series of worldbuilding vignettes about original characters in the 17776 setting.)

Made me cry, in a very cathartic way.

Astreiant Series - Melissa Scott & Lisa A. Barnett

April dressed in all his trim

A quiet evening in spring.

Sweet little slice-of-life with lovely sensory details.

Books of the Raksura

The Second Consort

“When Glow arrives, be friendly and welcoming,” Ember said. “Not scary.”

“Why does everyone think I’m going to scare him?”

Chime said, “They can see your face when you look at him.” He paused, glancing over at Moon. “That face, that’s the one.”

Ember sighed. “I remember being in his position. It’s pretty nerve-wracking coming to a new court and not knowing what’s going to happen to you there - whether they’re going to welcome you or shun you, whether you’ll make new friends, whether a queen is going to claim you…” He came and put a sympathetic hand on Moon’s shoulder. “Glow is probably worried about all of those things, and missing his home and clutchmates, and it’s our job to try and help him relax.” For a moment Moon thought he was just being soft-hearted, until Ember added, “He won’t open up and tell us what’s really going on unless he’s relaxed.”

Jade takes in a new consort, on Moon’s permission, and everybody is delightfully adult about it.

Frederica

Lady Alverstoke

Frederica commences her first Season as a married woman by planning a ball, promising most straitly that her husband will have nothing whatsoever to do …

Sweet and funny slice-of-life post-happy-ending for canon.

**The Gentlemen (2019) **

Even

The week after he intercepts Fletcher, that squirrelly little cunt, outside the London Miramax office, Raymond reluctantly ventures down to Brixton.

Under normal circumstances, Raymond tends to give this part of Brixton a wide berth, but he has unfinished business that needs attending to. Of course, that doesn’t mean he has to like being accosted by the overwhelming smell of greasy fish and chips when he pushes the car door open, doesn’t mean he has to be pleased about stepping into a piece of chewed-up gum the moment he sets a foot on the kerb.

But then, he can always take a shower after an errand in Brixton. The deep-seated discomfort of unfinished business doesn’t wash off that easily.

Raymond tries to pay Coach back for saving his life, and it doesn’t quite go as planned :D

The Goblin Emperor

The Archduke’s Discovery

Prince Nemolis goes on a journey, and learns a bit more than he wanted to know.

Really great point of canon divergence, and true and precise character voices.

Hades

all the spaces between us

For a place full of the dead, crammed with ghostly shades and nothing but the endless lull of eternity unchanging, gossip sure travelled fast in the Underworld.

Or, Zagreus mulls over his relationship with Thanatos while the rest of the Underworld get overly invested.

Slow, slow, slowest of burns.

Innkeeper Chronicles - Ilona Andrews

A Quick Trip

“It’ll be a quick trip,” Maud said, more to herself than to Arland. “No one will even notice we’re gone.”

Pirates are plaguing an ally, just outside of vampire space. Maud and Arland don some aesthetically beat-up armor and try to get more information from the pirates themselves. Of course, plans only last until you meet your enemy. Or your enemy’s giant alien attack boar.

Excellent canon voice, action/adventure sprinkled with badassery and hilarity.

Jeeves & Wooster

August Thirteenth

Discovering that this is not the first August thirteenth that he’s lived through, that certainly was a head scratcher. Luckily Bertie has the stalwart presence of his man’s man, Jeeves.

Very, very great and satisfying use of the time loop.

Kate Daniels - Ilona Andrews

lookin’ like a snack (cake)

It took Barabas a while to figure it out, because he wasn’t used to not being taken seriously.

Barabas considered several ways to phrase it, and finally settled upon, “Do you have a thing for twinks?” Christopher knocked his head back against the headrest: once, then again. “Is that a yes?”

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

When Goosefat Bill finds himself in a difficult situation, the last thing he wants is the King to show up and “help”, in his own unique and unexpected way.

Goosefat Bill does not need to be rescued by his King. But he might just enjoy it a little.

My Next Life as a Villainess (Anime)

All I Have To Bring Today

Catarina and Sophia had been discussing the latest in the Devilish Count series, and Sophia had mentioned how romantic the surprise picnic the count had planned for his lover was and how she wished for someone to surprise her like that.

“What about you, Catarina? Have you ever wished for someone to sweep you off your feet?” Sophia had asked.

Catarina makes a choice! As sweet and as hilarious as the canon.

Nirvana in Fire

Adverse Event

What a pitiful man must he have become, if the only thing he could provoke in bed was a monologue on his character flaws.

: or, the famous strategist mei changsu plays xanatos speed chess against truth serum: the fic.

Mei Changsu gets hit with an accidental truth serum; it doesn’t stop him from lying to himself, but it does buy Jingyan a clue.

Records of the Land of Xiang

There was something of Xiao Jingyan there, in the firmness of his jaw, the unforgiving slash of his brows, and most clearly in the eyes that neither saw nor conveyed deception. But Long Zhan was not Jingyan, could never be, no matter how much Changsu might wish otherwise, because Jingyan was dead.

In service to a very-much-alive Prince Qi, Jingyan dons a Jianghu-typical disguise and infiltrates the Jiangzuo Alliance to suss out this Mei Changsu fellow and see if he might be useful in helping them re-open the Chiyan conspiracy case. Basically, a slightly ridiculous premise where everyone is running around the Jianghu with masks, multiple identities, and secret agendas.

Fascinating and fun AU scenario that delves, among other things, into Mei Changsu the jianghu chef, not Sir Su the court schemer.

suffering as I suffer you

The first time Jingyan stays the night at Su Manor, he discovers an uncomfortable truth about Mei Changsu.

Excellent extrapolation of Mei Changsu’s illness into his nightly routine - with Jingyan watching…

Here, In Our Arms

With the world put to rights, however briefly, Xiao Jingyan and Mu Nihuang take the opportunity to make a fuss over their beloved Lin Shu, and will not take no for an answer.

Sweet moment of comfort.

Find the Coals Amid the Ashes

Despite Changsu’s assertions, Lin Chen is a well brought up person. He would never violate his host’s privacy during a social call. It would be inexcusable, for example, to break into a marquis’s private alchemy lab in the middle of said marquis’s birthday party, in order to search said alchemy lab for certain hard to find medicinal herbs, which one has reason to believe can be found therein. These would be the actions of a man without honour, of a man who has only desperation to his name.

Lin Chen crashes a party and makes a new friend.

The best team up ever :D

Dead Letters

Mei Changsu isn’t the only schemer in Da Liang.

Fei Liu fixes things, in the most Fei Liu way imaginable, and it’s great.

No. 6

All Good Things

In the midst of a crisis for No. 6, Nezumi returns to Shion’s side.

A reunion! And cuddling.

Psmith

The Psky Is The Limit

“As this ship’s Orator, my mission is still as it was in the beginning and shall ever be, world without end. It is to hail any message sent by comrades from outer space and pass it on to you verbatim. Well! The hour, I say, has come. The Word has come into being. Here comes Psmith, bearing news of great mirth: the intercom has spoken.”

(A Mike and Psmith Space AU)

Psmith in space! Hysterically funny Psmith in Pspace, at that.

Psmith Pops In

Psmith reached over and solicitously loosened Mike’s scarf, his fingers brushing the skin of Mike’s neck, and that young man, to his horror, felt heat creeping up from where gloved fingers brushed his bare skin. Really, this blushing nonsense was getting out of hand. Ever since Psmith had tried to take the blame in the case of the painted dog, Mike had developed an inexplicable habit of turning hot and cold around him, and these odd responses had become more and more frequent.

Very funny! And then very tragique! And then jussssst right.

The Secret Garden

The Space Garden

When Meri La Nix was sent from the Mars colony to live with her aunt at Missiles Wait Manor, nobody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. But some of them thought it.

Beautifully inventive space retelling - with gardens, still.

The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty

The sky spinning above him

In which there’s a jewellery thief on the loose, Tang Fan plays dress up, gets a mild concussion and also a boyfriend.

Frothy, sweet, well-grounded and hot. Also hilarious (check the end note!)

truth in fiction

Three days after Wang Zhi leaves the capital, bits and pieces of his extensive library begin arriving at Sui Zhou’s house.

Sui Zhou is really committed to research and accuracy in Tang Fan’s porn. It’s delightful.

Time don’t fool me no more

“The electrician is a Tang dynasty spy,” he says, dumping some of his eggs in Tang Fan’s bowl.

Tang Fan nods, shovels more food in his mouth, and starts talking again.

Past or future, Tang Fan has Priorities. And Sui Zhou is weak.

Meeting at the End

Sui Zhou knew he never should have let Tang Fan go alone. He knew he should have gone with him.

Really, really great and desperate whump. Super satisfying.

clever boy

Tang Fan never spares a smile for any of the girls at Wang Zhi’s establishment, he’s noticed. That’s alright, though. It means Wang Zhi gets his attention for himself.

Wang Zhi falling, falling hard; it’s delightful.

a bold and brilliant sun

“You’re sure you didn’t do something to it? They don’t usually stall out,” Sui Zhou says. He looks away from Tang Fan, out the windshield at the endless rust-red of the planet.

Tang Fan pouts at this, and slumps down on the edge of the console, feet propped up at an absurd angle against the pilot’s seat. “You think I’d fake a mechanical issue just so that they’d send a sexy Fleet crewman out here to rescue me?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he giggles. “Okay, I would do that, but I promise that this time the problem is real.”

Space AU! Most excellent space AU condensing all there is to love about the canon in one perfect package.

Blind Taste Test

Wang Zhi invites Tang Fan to evaluate Joyous Brothel’s chefs — but it’s Tang Fan and Sui Zhou who are really being tested.

Wang Zhi, ever helpful :)

Authorial Intent

Sui Zhou and Tang Fan end up in hot water yet again. Kinky sex ensues.

Hilarious, kinky, heartfelt, and in character.

Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner

Chrysopoeia

It struck Alec that this would have been much easier if their positions were reversed. Richard would have known what to do if he’d been dragged back here with a hole in his gut. He was quite simply not supposed to be the one on this end of the equation. In fact, it was possible he had done something very bad to deserve this.

Richard is wounded, and Alex is coping. Excellent h/c and excellent bloodplay and sharp, painful slice of Alex’ POV, excellently rendered.

At first — this was just like him — he thought he was hearing god. But it was only the man in the bed, whose face had turned toward him on the ragged pillow.

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards

Third’s a Charm

Addam asks a favor of Brand.

Addam asks Brand for help, which ends up being exactly what Brand and Rune need.

Pretty good

Five times Brand crawls into Rune’s bed and one time Rune crawls into Brand’s.

Brand and Rune, through the years.

Teixcalaan Series - Arkady Martine

Also in the Act of Reaching

When Three Seagrass arrived at Lsel Station, she was, officially at least, traveling as a private personage. She had missed Mahit and the possibilities they’d both chosen to turn away from. She also had– would always have– a gaping hole in her life where Petal had once stood.

It was simply that, left on her own, Three Seagrass wouldn’t have let either absence drag her to the ass-end of beyond.

Reunion, metaphors and realigment. Subtle and clever and just right.

The (concept of the) World Was Wide Enough

Yskandr Aghavn comes to the world like a drowning man comes to shore, but he is living on borrowed time. Teixcalaan has so many wonderful things to choke on.

Teixcalaan has had his heart for all of his life, has elevated him, corrupted him, and discarded him.

It is Lsel that he thinks of as he dies.

Temple of the White Rat Universe - T. Kingfisher

If Grace Is Too Much

Zale is given a case by Bishop Beartongue which turns out to be more complicated and personal than a holy advocate-priest would prefer.

Clever and sweet and carefully shocking, but in a very right way.

Outreach

“We don’t generally assess the… cursédness… of objects, trees or otherwise,” Beartongue said.

Utterly delightful.

#17776 #astreiant #books of the raksura #sleuth of the ming dynasty #nirvana in fire #white rat universe #telxcalaan series #the tarot sequence #swordspoint #the goblin emperor #psmith #the secret garden #benjamin january mysteries #yuletide recs

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scribbleseas · 4 years

Text

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter I: The Princess of Germany’s First Kiss (Prologue)

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault (once in the prologue), objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Author’s Note: If you have any questions or concerns about these warnings, please don’t hesitate to contact me! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the first installment of TIP!

-Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

. . .

DECEMBER 12TH, 1883

SCHLESWIG-HOLSTEIN, GERMANY

“Her Highness is missing again, haven’t you heard?” a woman spoke over the incoherent mumbling of men and women who were in the process of boarding the SS Mary- a steamship that was preparing to go to London, from the main port of Schleswig-Holstein. Their words were muffled to a girl as her lithe figure was contorted into a crouch between restrained boxes of cargo on deck. She trembled as they did nothing to compose the unforgiving draft of December air.

Her eyes were downcast, staring at the soiled silk of her petticoat. The sight of it caused her lips to twitch in amusement, the brown grime and recently melted snow did well to spread up the skirt, which made the elaborate dress more worthless than it had been coming out off the seamstress’s thread and needle.

“Who, Princess Helena? They ought to put her in her place when they find her- the rest of them are nothing like that hellchild,” another woman’s voice carried a heavy disdain, highly resembling Governess Lydia’s admonishing words- the verbal equivalent to the crack of a punishing whip. However, she missed the hateful German language as instead sported a thick, English accent, much like the first woman’s.

The girl’s grip on one of the thick gold chains in her pocket bag tightened as she twisted it around her finger and back again. Every bit of gratification the blemishing of her fine wardrobe gave her was quickly dispatched- made to be as bitter as the cold that stung at her nose. “How they managed to corrupt one of those children out of- what, four? Frightens me. Princess Marie should have a sure enough influence on her.

Naturally, the virtuous Princess Marie Louise of Schleswig-Holstein was a necessity to speak of to make a proper comparison. Though her visage was identical to Princess Helena’s, she couldn’t never have the grit that her sister’s character possessed. Marie was the perfect girl- obedient and soft-spoken, which was why she was so loved amongst the public and the royal family. She had the attitude of a sprouting tulip or a fleeting butterfly while her sister had broken nearly every custom a royal ought to obey.

The mere thought of Marie herself caused the girl’s features contort into a frustrated frown, as if she’d tasted something sour. Something undesirable, quite like herself, she’d come to realize.

“At least we’ve got on before the Peelers could start searching ships, heavens knows- that one is smart enough to climb aboard,” the woman continued, “what she’d do in the country of her grandmother is lost to me.” The woman’s doubt was quite an inspiration to the girl. There was plenty to do in London. How the girl hated being underestimated.

“Reckon the brothers will join the next massive search party?” The first woman asked, referring to the eldest siblings of the Germany royalty- Prince Christian and Prince Albert. Prince Christian was the heir of the throne, much to the public’s relief, considering he was the most disciplined- the most honorable, though he was only sixteen.

“Of course. They’re Princes. They must, no matter how fruitless the search is,” the second responded, her reproachful tone caused the girl to shudder again, perhaps pitying the small infant that was smothered in soft blankets. She could hardly make out them between the thin opening in front of her, her person was tall and slender, her skirts perky enough to suggest that they were made of light, shiny silk. It seemed he was militant because she was a noblewoman.

A deeper male voice interrupted, “shut your sauce-boxes! The princess doesn’t mean nothing to the royal family, so why would she be of any more public concern?” he asked, clearing his throat, the scent of his cigar sharper in the cold. The girl wrinkled her nose in equal part concern and disgust- gentlemen were never to smoke around ladies.

“Oh, Arthur. Put that thing away, you’re an embarrassment,” the tall woman gestured to the sleeping infant as she turned her back to the man who adjusted his grip on the detailed carpet bags as he followed the two women with ease before stopping to begrudgingly do as he was told.

“Of course m’lady,” he scoffed, putting out the cigar in the astray that was near the railing as other men seemed to do so in suit. The man picked up the bags again to follow his companions out of the girl’s earshot.

“Besides, you know Her Majesty fancies her grandchildren as much as her own summer home. She’s to make everyone care, you tool.”

. . .

DECEMBER 13TH, 1883

LONDON, ENGLAND

“Your name?” An officer demanded, his face stoic as he squinted at the girl, trying to get a proper look at her face as she concealed it with a burly scarf. There were dozens of officers by the port, each asking the same question to the incoming travelers. While most provided them with an answer, the girl simply stared at the man, her optics wordless as she pretended to claim unfamiliarity with his language as opposed to her own native tongue. “I asked for your name. Are you deaf?”

Under her scarf, she pursed her chapped lips. “Ich spreche kein Englisch,” (I don’t speak English) she mumbled, her ears reddening with the lie, though they were concealed by her elegantly braided bun and the limp hood that covered her head. She watched the guard, his stance straightening before shaking his head in disdain. His old face was keen, though he evidently lacked the energy to question her any further.

“Wait for your mother next time,” the officer commented, impatiently gesturing for her to move along. His frown passive enough for the girl to assume that her passage into the city was acceptable.

London was crowded, the cold air stale with the far off stench of horse muck and smoke. Carriages passed through the streets, the sound of the hooves of horses sounded on the uneven cobblestone. The conversations of pedestrians polluted the atmosphere, boys with the latest papers were sure to badger each passerby. News of the missing Princess came to London faster than SS Mary had been able to, which meant that Her Majesty had to have been notified of granddaughter’s disappearance already.

The girl followed the pavement, appreciating the lack of cracks and the polite, genuine society around her- until she was interrupted already, within a matter of minutes of leaving the sport the SS Mary had docked in.

“Buy one of me papes, Miss, please!” A freckled boy scurried over to the girl, whose hand paused as she considered pulling down her scarf. It was too soon, though she reckoned that exposing her bun like a proper lady would do well to keep her inconspicuous. No one would know that her dress was of German make and housed heavy, jewelled accessories under the multitude petticoats she sported.

The boy was shivering, his cheeks red. He was too thin for his jacket, and his gloves were fingerless. The girl had no money, yet she found herself fishing a certain ring out of her pocket bag, it was emerald- her birthstone settled in a polite rose gold. It was likely worth more than the company that managed to produce the paper that the boy was distributing. His eyes followed her gloved hand, widening considerably as she offered the ring to him. Selling a paper for a few coins was no use to anyone.

“Sell this, for no less than... fourteen hundred pounds. And wait a week, at least,” the girl ordered, her accent was more pronounced than what she would have preferred, but her point was deliberate enough to make up for it. The winter was too harsh for such a young boy (who couldn’t have been much younger than herself) to only look out for himself during. No heedful mother would allow her son to leave home in such ill-fitting clothes, which suggested that he was alone. When he hesitated, she pressed the ring into his palm.

“I-I..I can’t take this,” he protested with a regretful sigh that was visible as his warm breath collided with the air. He tried to give it back, his hand still and outstretched, but the girl led his fingers over the ring with her own hand. “Just buy some pap-”

“Spring is months away. Buy yourself an overcoat that fits,” the girl was smiling under her scarf, though it was only visible through her eyes as they squinted around the sides.

“With...fourteen hundred pounds?” the boy repeated his voice in a dramatic whisper. His brown eyes were welling up with grateful tears as he pulled her into a cordial embrace. It was inappropriate, though they were around the same age. He gave her a tight squeeze, trapping both of her arms in it before letting go and running off, his satchel dropping papers in his wake with every bounding step. “Thank you!” he exclaimed over his shoulder with a half-wave, though he’d nearly bumped into a woman in his ignorance. He stumbled to the side of the pavement and took off his hat for her, since she was escorted by a man in a tailored coat and cane, statues of wealth.

. . .

DECEMBER 27th, 1883

LONDON, ENGLAND

“I saw Princess Helena! She was here, in a scarf-” the girl’s eyebrows were knitted as she stared to the side, away from the Peeler that she attracted with her concerned screeching. Her apron was in a muss of batter and the remnants of an egg yolk. To match, her hands were caked in the unidentified substance as their wild gestures failed to exaggerate her point. She too, was young, not too much older than the girl who was currently hiding herself between two buildings, her scarf hanging low around her neck. She could feel sweat beginning to perspire through her shift and her stay was too loose and floppy with each significant move she made. Dressing herself had proven itself to be more of a challenge than she anticipated, especially with navigating the cross ties that required the deftness of fingers she did not possess yet.

“Please Katherine, all of that sugar has made you delusional. Get back to work and wash your face, would you?” the Peeler scoffed, gesturing to any onlooker to carry on. He rolled the girl’s paper into a thin coil, resembling his own wooden truncheon as he tucked it into his boot.

“You bloody mutton-shunter! She came in wanting a loaf of bread! I swear it!” Katherine defensively rubbed her cheekbone, unconsciously spreading more flour on it. She gave the street adjacent to her one more long look before returning to her parents’ shop. “Don’t give me that rubbish.”

“Her Highness has been missing for…’bout two weeks. If she was going to show up, she woulda done it by now. See yourself off, now,” he waved the adolescent away from his post at the end of the street. Vaguely, he could recall a comrade of his speaking of a strange girl in the port, alone- her face covered. Perhaps...he shook his head. The media ought to stop this witch hunt for the poor girl, it seemed to be getting into his old head.

Meanwhile, the girl found herself in a difficult position. For two weeks, she had been able to live off of the wealth her jewelry had sowed, renting a room along with new petticoats and boots, while vendors in the market square had time to ruminate amongst themselves. They refused her further business unless she unraveled the uncouth scarf that concealed her nose and lips and in spite of her protests (the damning weather, potential ugliness), but to no avail. Concealing her face was unseemly and unladylike. Evidently, the result of her obediently removing her scarf was having to dash off and hide, all because of the papers. It would have been effective to fake her own death before she had boarded that bloody steamboat.

In her hunger, she could hear her stomach protesting in a chorus of low growls. The scent of bread in the bakery had been too tantalizing to describe as her most recent full meal was nothing but a distant memory. She rested her head against the bricks of the building, strands of her hair clinging to the porous material and causing her bun to fall more than it had previously. Her chest rose and fell as she stared at the grey sky. Snow was going to fall again, for the second time that morning.

“Ey- you there,” a male voice was getting closer, his silhouette unveiled as he entered the girl’s sightline. A smart grin was playing at his lips, pronouncing the smile lines that were on either sides of his eyes. “You gave that girl a serious fright, didn’t ya, Your Highness?” He was holding a paper, the headline facing outwards: PRINCESS HELENA OF SCHLESWIG- HOLSTEIN; YET TO BE FOUND. The man was scruffy and as he drew closer, as did the trailing scent of a cigar. His suit was plaid, the jacket unbuttoned to reveal a white undershirt.

The girl’s first instinct was to start off again, though she knew in her state, she wouldn’t get too far. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and stood up straight to face him. “What’re you, eight?” He continued, “I ain’t much into the royal scene, but I remember old Helena getting married to old Christian a coupla years ago.”

The girl tensed as he stopped at a respectful distance before her, while he disrespected the parents of the missing princess. Their eyes met, his being a deep, confusing green. His hair was a russet brown that slicked back, exposing the aged wrinkles in his forehead as well, a matching set to the lines near his eyes. “Ten,” she corrected him, her arms reluctantly uncrossing. This man was intelligent for a commoner, she could see it in that childish stare of his.

“You’ve got a gift, then,” he commented offhandedly, “well, Your Highness,” he laughs at the wry pleasantry, his shoulders jumping along. “I reckon we can help each other out a bit.”

The girl raised her chin, a request for him to elaborate as he continued to speak, each word visualizing in the cold air. Around his mouth and over his jaw was the making of a beard, barely poking out of his skin. It managed to suit the indigent man. “Have you heard of a confidence trick?” The girl was silent, which he took as a discreet ‘no’. “You’re gonna need to take off the scarf and play ‘long, then, alright? Come with me,” he gestured towards himself as he led the girl out of the alley.

It was unwise of her to trust a strange man, yet the girl’s ample intellect was undermined by her curiosity and inevitable starvation. She unwrapped her scarf, wrinkling her nose as it was exposed to the biting wind. Small snowflakes fell, wetting her hair and face before leaving trails down the beige stomacher and gown she dawned. The man lingered at the foot of the alleyway, merely watching the street before fixating on a pregnant woman and a man, presumably her husband. He led the girl to the pair, his face contorting into a desperate, doleful look of despair.

“Please, good sir- good lady, my daughter has fallen ill and I’ve…” the man looked down at the girl, who had the sense to cough into the sleeve of her shift, her shoulders tense as if every breath was hard to take in. “I’ve lost me position to the boss’s son.”

“You have our sympathy, good sir,” the husband started, only to be interrupted by his wife’s glare. Her hand was on her distended belly, sourly reminding him that their own child could be ill in the girl’s place in the future. Their exchange was wordless, yet brief. The look the woman shot at her husband was akin to the look the girl’s own mother gave towards everyone around her. With a sigh, he offered the man a large bag of coins, “today’s wages. You best get to the physician before he closes for the night,” he dismissed with a nod, arm in arm with his satisfied wife.

“Do find yourself a tenement. This cold won’t be doing your girl any favors,” the woman frowned, shouldering her furs as if they’d disappear suddenly.

“God bless!” the man simpered with a bow as he waited for the couple to show themselves further ways down the street before turning his attention back to the astonished girl. “Well?” he asked, “call me Baxter. And your name, kid?” There was a knowing smile defining the old lines in his face as he handed the heavy bag of coins to the girl, who was silent for passing beats as she tried to decide if Baxter was the man’s first name or his surname, if either. She’d never know.

“Y/n,” she mumbled, accepting the heavy bag in her small hands.

“Pleasure’s mine, Y/n,” Baxter laughed, “let’s fetch somethin’ to eat before we starve, yeah?”

. . .

OCTOBER 11TH, 1885

LONDON, ENGLAND

“A lady is more than capable of giving a man a good collie-shangle,” Baxter said, his sleeves rolled up as he faced the girl. “The world’s all chuffed with this idea of stronger, faster, fatter- whatever,” his baggy shirt was billowing in the gentle wind as they were fixed in the shielding wood of their shabby home. The wind was feeding through the open window to the side. “This is what matters, Y/n,” he gestured to his forehead, with the intent to help her see that he was adhering to his brain, or intellect, “understand?” Her natural English was still a work in progress.

The girl was twelve, and this was about to be her first of many defense classes. The conman had finally decided that she was ready as in the streets, a proper knowledge of fist to cups was as necessary as breathing. She nodded slowly, digesting each syllable the man had said. It was the complete opposite of the royal way, where she’d be shoved into dresses and ignored, like an abandoned toy. Baxter never ignored her; he was more of a father than hers ever was.

“Your mind is always gonna be your greatest weapon,” the girl’s eyes traveled down to his belt, where there was his usual handgun sheathed to it. Baxter had taught her how to shoot it, though she had yet to lay so much as a finger on it. It was for emergencies- life or death situations. Baxter cautioned that violence was always the last resort- the ‘time out’ in a hopeless situation. “This is just training you how to apply it to useful combat. How you’ll be able to take out someone bigger than you.”

At the time, this would apply to nearly the entire world’s population, considering the girl had hardly rounded out from the higher quantities of food she’d been consuming, and only grew a few inches since the day she departed Germany. “I- that’s...have you gone mad?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing. The crown of her head was hardly adjacent to the midline of his bicep.

“How’d you go about it, kid?” Baxter asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he waved his hand dismissively. “Think.”

There was no thinking about it. Besides their height difference, it was his strength versus hers. Even his arms were longer, which meant that he could defend himself simply by using her own force against hers. Biting her lip, she was pleased to comprehend what he had meant by her strategic rationale being her primary weapon, though next to a fist of a hand that could cover the entirety of her face, she couldn’t see how it was relevant. Her only virtue would be her agility and speed, which were also useless in a spar.

“Draw ‘em in by giving ‘em an opening to come in close,” Baxter said. “You’re small, so they’re gonna try n’ use that against you by getting in real close and pushing you around,” he explained by example, starting towards the girl and gently pushing her back by her shoulders. It wasn’t enough to force her to move, but it was enough to demonstrate.

“Won’t they be pushing to injure?” The girl questioned, her nose wrinkling in frustration.

“No one pushes to injure- not in the streets. That’s for ol’ church-bells in their fancy skirts and we ain’t having none of that. ‘S a waste of our time,” the conman shook his head, as if the fact was obvious. “Pay attention now,” he gestured for her to step away again. “You’re gonna use your height to your advantage. You’ve full access to vulnerable points, like me throat n’ me torso. Now come back in.”

“Use your hand to drive me back,” Baxter directed, merely pointing her into the right direction. She’d recall the answer better if she found it by her own hands.

The girl’s small hand curled into a fist for a moment. He told her to drive him away, not to strike. With an open hand, she surged her arm upwards, spreading her thumb and index finger to accommodate the stretch of Baxter’s throat as she gave the hold a short push so as to not hurt him.

Baxter was smiling now, “brilliant, ‘n right after, you’ll wanna finish it with a knock er two. Since you’ve ‘em stunned, they’ll be mindless weight that you’ll be able to draw in. Drive in, push the throat, pull in ‘nd bring your knee in, ...where, Y/n?”

The girl followed each step, visualizing it as Baxter explained them. Drive in, push the throat, pull in, force her knee...if he was mindless weight, he’d be slouching at his waist...leaving his whole middle defenseless! “Your midline,” her lips turned up at the sides as she smiled. He liked to say that she inherited his ‘troublemaker’ grin while she told him that they liked to call her the Devil Child behind her back in the castle. It’d made him laugh.

“Exactly. Now try it,” Baxter directed, bracing himself as the girl drove her small hand around his throat, the other pulling his arm away by the sleeve, a welcome addition. With a huff, she (attempted) to pull him in, but for model purposes, he allowed her to, which left him open to getting hit in the upper groin area with a surprising amount of force. “Good,” he grunted, planting his shoes into the ground to avoid putting his full weight on the girl. “Go high again,” he instructed.

“Your throat is at a poor angle,” her hands were getting clammy as it clutched onto either of his sleeves.

“Then don’t use it. Unnecessary movements can be suicide,” he scoffed, but it came out as more of a wheeze when her palm forced his face back, causing his tall frame to arch back as he moved with her, suddenly. “You’ll finish off with your elbow and other hand.”

“Right,” the girl nodded in confirmation, pulling his body down by the sleeve with one of her hands as she used her other arm to simulate butting his head with the bony joint of her elbow. She released the conman, who stood up after bending himself back to crack his spine, vertebra making consecutively loud exclamations. He was beaming at her again, the wrinkles on the outside bits of his eyes curling with his lips.

“Now we ought to run it until you break me into bits. Buck up,” he said, extending his arms to his starting point.

. . .

AUGUST 12TH, 1887

ALFRISTON, EAST SUSSEX, ENGLAND

Spending the summer out of London was an understated relief. In Baxter’s shoebox of a countryside home (he said he’d inherited it from his father), the girl was able to let her hair down from its bun and loosen the tight strings of her stay, even going as far to muddy her boots, all of which would have caused a riot within her former life.

By then, the German princess, Helena had been missing for nearly four years. Her Majesty had been heartbroken to establish her granddaughter’s funeral in 1885, though it seemed she was the only individual of royal blood to truly mourn. Even Princess Marie-Louise, the twin of Helena’s, was quite stoic as they lowered the empty coffin. And thus, it was quite simple for the girl to remove her scarf and freely introduce herself as Y/n L/n, the foreign girl who stood at the side of the cunning conman- who was also the kindest of anyone she’d ever encountered.

Baxter, within their four years together, had aged considerably. His dark locks of hair had begun to gray as it fell past his eyebrows that morning, the wrinkles next to his eyes were more defined with every squint as he took a long drag of his cigar. He exhaled, blowing the dark smoke into the cloudless atmosphere of Alfriston as they reclined against the cool stones that made up the walls of the building behind them. It was a textile shop, but it wasn’t open quite yet- the owner was on his way.

The girl was staring at her cream colored boots as they peeked out from under her skirts. They were the cleanest pair she owned, and thus, employed to help orchestrate their plans for that morning. Dimly, she could recall stealing them from a whining daughter of a baron. Her crying was more shrill than a highest soprano in an opera house. It was Baxtor who told her that any spoiled maid could be distracted by something better than they already had. He was proud to watch on as the girl waited for the baron’s daughter to remove her boots in awe of a new pair.

Now, they were worn by the girl under a first hand gown, bought with an abundance of coins from different pocket bags and wallets. The gown was a gloomy shade of blue, enlightened by the gold lining that kept it secured to the stomacher. It was regal enough, given the pretenses of the meeting.

“Remember, liars stare off and shrink away. You’ll do neither,” Baxtor affirmed, to which the girl nodded, steeling herself. “You’ll look right into the bloke’s eyes... and take all he’s worth,” the man chuckled derisively as he coughed from the dryness that the cigar had put in his throat. The girl smiled, the corners of her lips twitching. “He’s gonna be mad as hops too, thinking he can outsmart you because you’re a girl.” Baxtor always spoke in a way that resided between both a common man’s tongue and that of an aristocrat, which naturally influenced the girl’s own English- in addition to her accent that tended to turn her ‘th’ sounds in most words into a noise akin to a ‘d’, ‘s’, or ‘f’. ‘Their’, as an example, tended to verbalize as ‘deir’, which was nearly impossible for the girl to differentiate. In short, her English accent would never be completely flawless, despite the conman’s efforts.

You’ve taught me well enough not to waste your breath on filling silence,” the girl moistened her lips, her grip on the large envelope in her hands was tight as she accidentally wrinkled it.

“Have I?” She could feel Baxter’s meticulous gaze on her for the moment.

He was more than aware of that fact, seeing as the girl was quite astute to begin with and paired with his wide field of knowledge, the incoming baron simply couldn’t stand a chance.

Speak of the devil; a dark carriage rode up to the building, rolling to a stop as the driver pulled back on the reins of the horse. He proceeded to open the door for a top heavy man, suited in a high top hat with a matching jacket. His mustache twisted at the ends, in contrast to the unconvincing smile that his thin lips twisted into. Baron Steven Wright- the owner of one of the most competitive textile companies in Europe, for the time. His factories were working double time as he was desperate to find a way to edge out the rest of his opponents.

His desperation was what made him a viable target for this sort of schematic. Baxter liked to compare ravenous businessmen to the little, cattish girls of ruffles and pink. All they wanted was more- they took and stole until they could find something better. Tricking them out of their own fortune was easy enough- it was blameless, considering they were the ones stupid enough to let their own greed drive them.

“Lord Wright,” the girl lowered her gaze and dipped into a proper curtsy. Though it had been years since she followed the proper social etiquette of addressing a titled man, the movement was still of second nature.

“Miss Hartmann,” Wright moistoned his lips, his steely gaze meeting the girl’s as she returned to her proper stance. “Pleasure,” his hand was in the deep pocket of his jacket, it was a heavy fur and the beads of sweat that dripped down his forehead were signs that he was merely wearing the burly thing in the middle of the summer to show off his status. They were quickly dabbled away by a handkerchief before he continued to fish a key out of the pocket.

“Johanna, please,” the girl corrected with a smile, immediately attempting to lower the man’s weak guard. She was a girl, and she’d merely use that to her advantage. Baxter was silent at her side as he played the role of a defensive escort for a clueless daughter of a German baron whose body was recently dug into the earth. The girl was to sell him a false land deed in Dosenmoor under the pretenses of his erecting more factories within the industrializing country. By the time the man traveled to make note of his spoils in the flesh, Baxter and herself would be back in London- knee deep in new plans.

“What a shame it is, your father passing so suddenly,” the man started, pushing his key into the padlock of the shop’s door. “Your grieving must’ve been cut short, being the head of his trade now. What is it, agriculture?” It seemed the man thought he was cheating a thoughtless, grief-stricken girl out of prime land.

“Of fodder beet and potatoes, yes, my Lord,” the girl nodded, her lips relaxing into a content line as the baron turned his back to her. Briefly, she met Baxter’s eyes as he nodded once, a prompt for her to go inside after the chubby man. “My mother...didn’t fancy the truth,” she was less cautious in watching her accent for evident reasons.

The baron was laughing, though it sounded like a series of strangled wheezes- likely from too many cigars. The girl noticed that Baxter must have finished his off between Wright’s arrival and then, as it was improper for a servant to be smoking in the presence of a female. “True love at its purest, my dear. Being unable to cope when he parts first. Deciding to join him for fear of being alone. My, you’re so young, running such a manly business in your dainty hands.”

There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she bit her tongue. At least the walls of the shop took them out of the rising sun and humid air of the countryside. She appreciated the scent of old wood as the baron led them up a rickety flight of stairs to a room at the end of a hall. In the room, there were shelves of books and in the middle of it all, a neat desk, as opposed to the tables of assorted fabrics, threads and partially woven clothes on those they had passed.

“Perhaps you’d consider handing it off to someone,” Wright mused, the implication as conspicuous as his mustache, or even the pink in his face that surfaced with the effort that took him to climb the short staircase. “Johanna,” he urged, the girl’s lack of eye contact leading him to believe that her attention was elsewhere.

“My Lord,” she needed to bring the matter of their meeting back into focus, though easily, she could weasel the man out of more of his fortune. This wasn’t about being greedy. The girl allowed the man to pull a wooden chair out from under the table for her to sit in. Baxter was lurking behind her. The girl smiled again, in order to mask the directness behind her next comment, “what keeps us from the matters at hand?” Wright sat himself on the opposite side of the table, a grunt passing through his lips as he gauchlessly righted himself. He was making a show out of what needed to be a five minute meeting in order to try to rouse the girl, an acting beneficiary of hundreds of free acres of land into giving him more than he paid for. Little did he know, Wright would be getting much less than he was emptying his bank for.

“Right, stay the course,” the man was too amused with her, as if he was cooing at a cute stray kitten. It was a mockery that caused the girl’s blood to curl in frustration. “Why don’t we start with sorting those out?” He requested, gesturing to the envelope in the girl’s hands with his chin.

. . .

FEBRUARY 3RD, 1888

LONDON, ENGLAND

There was a loud knock at the door, truculent and intrusive. “Johanna Hartmann!” Each knock was stiff, causing the door to wobble as it threatened to give in. “Open in the name of Baron Steven Wright! This instant!”

Their home was small, hardly larger than the first floor of a tenement within the heart of London. The main room served as the kitchenette and Baxter’s bedroom as he gave his (the room down the short corridor) to the girl. The fireplace was on, the heat crackling and filling the vicinity with warmth as it fought off the frosty draft of February.

Baxter stirred from his light slumber with a start. Johanna Hartmann? Vaguely, he could recall the name form one of their older scams- from the summer their offseason. They made quite a profit off of his greed, more than triple what they made off of working class pedestrians. The fallout was late in meeting their doorstep, however.

Baxter was confident that he could diffuse the situation without waking the girl. She needed her rest after their long day of practice- teaching her how to unarm a gunman was a necessary skill, especially for a girl as she strode into her adolescence. He wouldn’t always be around to guide her, after all.

Baxter stood from his arm chair, quickly looking from the empty hallway and to the door again. Thankfully, she wasn’t awake yet, which gave him time to turn this man away. Opening the door, he was met with three men, each much younger than the baron. By the way their hands lay protectively on their belts, he was able to conclude that they were carrying some form of a Remington shotgun. The lights were too low for a proper shot.

He forced himself to smile, his shoulders dropping as he mirrored the body language of the other men. Improper posture was telling of their backgrounds- it was something he had to have the girl unlearn to survive the streets, amongst many other things. “Is there something you lot needed?”

“Put away y’re gigglemug, if you know what’s good for ya,” the man in the middle said, his words thick with a cockney accent. “Where’s the lass?”

“Lass?” Baxter repeated, moistening his lips as he feigned contemplation. “I haven’t the slightest-”

“Don’t sell us no dogs-” the man scowled, a wrinkle forming between his bushy eyebrows. With the slightest nod of his head, his accomplices pushed past Baxter, causing the door to slam against the plaster wall. “Just hand over the money and we won’t have to blow no one’s brains outta their skulls,” he continued, pulling out the gun that Baxter had predicted. It was pointed in his general direction, a threat. Vaguely, he could hear the soft whining of the wooden floor as the girl started down the hallway, her lantern chasing the dark away as it revealed her face.

“Johanna Hartmann,” the man laughed dryly, cocking his head, an arrogant smirk contorting his tan face. “Well? Cough it up. Every coin of it,” he ordered, aiming at her, rather than Baxter. “Before I get angry,” he added.

“Y/n, get out of here,” Baxter ordered, fixating his assertive stare on her as her lips set in the indignant pout that she assessed situations with. “Now.”

“One step and I shoot this bloke. Then yourself.”

“Sir, I don’t know anything of a Miss Hartmann,” the girl started, biting the inside of her lip. “Perhaps you could go to the Peelers?” she suggested, purposely widening her eyes in false innocence as any simple girl would advise a stranger to go to the police. “Her name sounds...quite German?”

“If anything, you lot seem to be more likely to steal- barging in during the wee hours and waving them guns about,” the conman started, tutting in disapproval. Evidently, he was switching tactics, since the men were not buying into their act of innocence. It wasn’t wise to challenge three impatient men with guns in their hands, and the girl knew this as she communicated through her eyes in a warning side gaze.

Met with angry scowls, he continued in his play to distract the trio. “I’ve got our papers. I’ll prove that she ain’t no Heathmen or Hartman, or whatever-” Baxter rolled his tired eyes before turning on his heel. He was in nothing but his nightshirt, similarly to the girl, who was merely glad in a sheer shift. It was improper for her to be so exposed in a knee-length, cotton gown.

The girl watched on as the conman stalked towards their cupboard over the kitchenette. She assumed he was after a knife to defend himself, though it was fruitless. These men were well into their twenties at least- likely paid off by the baron to do his bidding as he sucked on a silver spoon.

“I’ve had enough of this. He’s insolent, Pete. Let’s just shoot ‘em and search the house,” the man on the left flank said, moments before he was shot in the side by...Baxter, whose face was steely calm, his lips in a dead serious line as he recoiled from the force his gun exerted against him. The sound of the bullet rang throughout the small house as the man’s body fell in a cursing heap.

Baxter wasn’t quick enough as immediately, the favor was returned to him by so called Pete- the snarling man in the middle. “Y/n!” the conman yelled, as before the gun went off, he’d assumed the bullet was to fix itself into her flesh, rather than his. Thankfully he’d been wrong as instead, the white-hot pain in his stomach spread through his body as blood began to soak his clothing. He was grateful that he was able to keep from eating his words- an unecessary movement was suicide. At least the girl was able to learn that firsthand.

Screaming, the girl was trembling more than the conman as she thrust herself to his side. The sound of her anguish was almost as deafening as the dispatching bullets were.

Her breathing was labored- she could feel her heart racing in her ears as unborn tears stung her eyes. She balled up his shirt, pressing it into the bleeding wound. “You can’t,” she urged, her accent flaring as it tended to do when she was stressed, or upset. “Don’t please-” her hands were shaking as through the dirty lens of his new glasses, Baxter could see tears running down her cheeks. He hadn’t intended to leave her like this, but their time was limited. His time was limited while hers was a mere bullet away from being so.

“Y/n, listen here,” Baxter’s voice was weak, though his eyes carried the same impish spirit that he had met her with all of those years ago. He whispered, gesturing for her to come closer, her ear to his lips, “trap the gun,” he said, in which she nodded, a lump forming in her throat as his cold hand wrapped around her wrist, pushing it away from the fabric of his with a confident nod. “Trap the gun, Y/n.”

“I-” she started through labored breaths as she wiped her eyes, staining her face with his blood by accident. There were too many words. Too much admiration and respect...familial love, but not enough time.

“I know,” he said, tears pooling his eyes as he weakly waved her away to face the two standing men with shaking legs and tears that left tracks as they fell down her face. Her heart was heavy with grief because not even Baxter, the strongest of any man could survive such a wound without care and she- a mere girl could survive two men with guns to her back, as it seemed.

Trap the gun.

The girl mustered the remnants of courage and rationale in her panicked conscience. She was this conman’s legacy, as far as she knew. She wasn’t going to die in their hands. They were not going to take her. Rage began to run through her veins in the form of adrenaline.It caused her heart to stammer faster, her hands to curl into fists as she faced the two remaining men, the third being dead on the floor. Neither of them seemed to care about him- poor bastard.

Trap the gun.

She wiped fresh tears off her flushed face with the back of her hand, choking on a sob. Draw them in. “I’ll..I can do anything- please don’t sh..sh..shoot me,” her breathing was labored as she focused on formulating a plan, throwing her heart into every tear, each new gasp for air that was unpracticed, unlike the pathetic script of words that escaped her lips.

Trap the gun.

“James, I reckon we can find a way to get this little tramp to pay back every bit of the coin she owes the boss,” Pete smiled, his cold eyes exchanging a sick smirk with the standing accomplice. “We oughta show her the ropes right here. Sweet thing’s beggin for us in that getup.”

Draw them in.

They were trailing forward, the hair on the girl’s arms standing standing at attention from both the cold that the open door was inviting in and the intensity at which the men were staring into her flesh. “Look at her, she’s a beaut...even with all of that blood on ‘er. She’d go for a pretty penny after we break her in, Pete,” James agreed, the girl only comprehending pieces of their words, half listening to keep herself from moving too soon. They weren’t close enough.

The man who had shot Baxter- Pete- was less than arm’s length away as the barrel of his gun was dipping and he didn’t stop his pursuit until the muzzle of the gun was resting on the girl’s hipbone as a looming threat. James, meanwhile, scoffed, “don’t be coy with us- take this off,” he ordered, tugging firmly on the soft material of her shift. He was behind the girl, his own prowling fingers working on top of her bloody ones to do so.

It was cold between the clothed bodies of the men, they were damp with melted off snow and rough with the common material they were made out of. Pete was playing with the necklace around her neck, twisting it around his finger whilst James’s calloused fingers continued to wander; grazing from the girl’s sternum, down her stomach- until it was between her thighs, gently caressing. His hands were cold. Everything was cold.

James’ lips were attached to the juncture between her neck and shoulder, suckling the skin after pushing her hair out of the way. The pad of his finger was insistent on rubbing around a specific margin of her womanhood, causing her to exhale, the sensation growing warm as it was hard for her tremulous legs to carry her. Pete was kissing her, his lips predatory and slick with saliva.

“Hmm, Pete, feel her,” James praised, his coarse hands on either of her thighs, urging them apart as he supported her with his thigh. “Wet already.”

“Has she already been broken in? Lord knows what she was doing here with that old bum,” Pete mused before grunting in approval as his fingers ran from the spot James had been rubbing, down to her lower entrance. His gun faced the floor as he was more occupied in exploring her formerly sacred womanhood.

“Doesn’t matter, she’s ours now, isn’t that right?” James asked, forcing one of his fingers past the girl’s saliva-slick lips. “Speak, whore,” he forced another slender finger into her mouth, pressing down her tongue.

The girl choked on the two digits as they threatened to touch the back of her pharynx, her face flushing in equal parts embarrassment and rage. Reflex tears formed in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. The man retracted his fingers with an amused laugh. Her nails dug out small crescents in her palms where they dug in.

“Oh, she’s crying. What a little princess,” Pete sneered, “wanna bet she tastes like one?” he asked, his own laugh was shockingly similar to James’ as he brought his intruding fingers into his mouth with a groan. Princess. If only they had known- the looks on their faces, the fear would have been invaluable.

Trap the gun.

Adrenaline sprinted through the girl as she ignored any lingering hesitation in her body. Her bloody hand took hold of the barrel of Pete’s gun as she forced it to the side, trapping it in her grasp. The man faltered, yelling in surprise as the unclothed girl stepped in (away from the line of fire), forcing the firearm down to face the floorboards. Her arm was completely straight as her other hand came around to help pull the gun away with all of her strength, paired with the strongest knee to his groin that she could manage with her shaking limbs.

Dammit, James, shoot ‘er!” Pete yelled, his face pale with fear as the girl unlocked the gun, her heart beat growing rapid as she met his eyes for the first time that morning. The sun was rising behind him, painting his skin a luminous orange and enlarging his shadow behind him. He would have made a fine man- tall and broad, his facial hair kept to a clean fade. The girl was doing him a favor.

She could hear James pulling out his own gun again, mumbling a curse under his breath. They should have killed her when they had the chance as in her stead, she shot Pete without further hesitation, the first bullet digging into his stomach and the second, his jugular as he fell. The sound again, reverberated throughout the room, the scent of gunpowder at a new peak. As it had before, the recoil of the gun caused her to stumble back, her arms involuntarily being forced up.

“You bitch! You’ll, you’re going to bloody p--” James screamed, glowering at her as he struggled to get his fumbling hands in place. But he was too slow.

With another fearsome blast, the girl was pushed back again, causing a stinging pain within the muscle of her shoulder. James was evidently, in worse shape as he fell to the ground. Blood began to blossom near his lower ribs, which was far off from where she had initially aimed. The sun was shining on him, his ashen skin and closing eyes. For the next few moments, she could hear his labored breathing, growing rapid before it stopped, suddenly.

The girl was breathing heavily herself, struggling to recollect her thoughts as she felt a warm, unidentified slick run down her thigh, Baxter’s blood drying on her hands and under her nails, making her skin feel stiff. Her ears stung, as if someone had forcefully shoved fabric into them. Her arms were heavy and the air was thick with gunpowder.

She pulled her shift back over her head, her eyes reluctant to leave the corpses of her attackers, as if they could reanimate and try to impose themselves on her again. Her fingers rubbed at her tear-stained cheeks, the lump in her throat was finally beginning to settle down again.

Someone had to hide the bodies.

. . .

Tags:

#ciel phantomhive #ciel x reader #black butler #strangers to lovers #anime fanfiction #sebastian michaelis #murder #angst #historical romance #historical fiction #victorian era #black butler fandom #black butler fanfic #the indignant pawn #ciel phantomhive x reader

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