#THE SYMBOLISM OF HIM THROWING THE GOLDEN HAND OFF TOO SPEAKS VOLUMES

[prince-toffee]

Villains

Part One

Hordak’s heavy steps echoed across the hallways as he marched alongside four rows of his personal guards, his most skilled and deadliest warriors, two rows on his left and two on his right. In their hands they firmly gripped stun-batons and stun-staffs. Hordak himself had no weapon except for his own bare hands, enhanced by his exo-skeleton armour, plating coating his chest, cables coiled around his thin weak arms, like a secondary thick layer of muscles, and metal boots enhancing his speed. The symbol of the red wings of the vampire were painted onto every armour of every soldier of the Horde.

The reason why Hordak had gathered his guard and set off to the Black Garnet Chamber was because of an act of treachery, and betrayal. Shadow Weaver had taken up the sword against him, so to speak. The clone lord had employed the sorceress for her professional and prideful knowledge of magic arts and his own lack of such knowledge. He was far more of a man of science, he knew things about space and machinery no one else on Etheria did. Well maybe one person did, this Entrapta seemed to be more of Hordak’s speed. He did not know much about the Princess of Dryl, but she seemed bright, she was a rare blessing among the people of the planet he was trapped on. She was a scientist, a true scientist, very little of those on Etheria. Her language he could understand. She was the only person that could hold a proper conversation with him, that was something he quite enjoyed, even though they had only spoken once or twice.

She was one of the hostages Shadow Weaver was holding in the chamber room. The other hostages frozen in place by her dark magic included both Force-Captain Scorpia, recently assigned to that division for her professional expertise to help increase efficiency, and Force-Captain Catra to whom the ex-Scorpion-Princess was assigned to as Catra seemed easily distracted, unfocused, and strangely obsessed with her archenemy. Hordak remembered appointing the Magicat the new Force-Captain, it was in their first interaction. He remembered Shadow Weaver dragged her ward into his throne room hopeing to embarrass and berate and insult her, Hordak didn’t care about such pettiness. From what he understood they were one Force-Captain down, as one of Weaver’s wards had deserted the Horde. So he simply appointed the second best fitting candidate, the records and grades claimed that even though Catra was the most absent and late person on the team, when she decided to show up she showed she was skilled in combat, strategy-crafting, leading, and thinking outside the box. She seemed right for the pick.

Hordak always had a sneaking suspicion that there would come a day when Shadow Weaver would try to betray him, but he had hoped that their promise of mutual destruction would have prevented the either from crossing the line. Weaver needed to leech off of other sources to survive, she usually resorted to people in her earlier days before bowing in front of the Horde and Hordak, afterwards she only needed the Garnet. Hordak had given Entrapta the go-ahead to study and use the Garnet in any way she wished as her experiments seemed to increase the overall efficiency of the Horde. Shadow Weaver didn’t like that. She choose to fight back.

Hordak and his soldiers reached the door leading to the Garnet Chamber. The young general reached out with his claw hand, his greyish-blue talon pressed a green button, waiting for the button to instruct the metallic door to slide up. Before the door itself could open up the metal slab burst open and peeled back like a banana, a black and crimson shadow claw grabbed him. It’s own talons tightened around him forcing out a scream from him. And he was yanked inward into the chamber, he fell onto the cold floor, or at least it should have been cold, but it was getting hotter, no doubt due to the electrical magic expelled by the dark sorceress.

He growled. Before he could get up onto his own two feet the darkness latched onto him, flinging him up into the ceiling, forcing him to crash against various wiring and cables that dislodged and fell down with him. He began to breath heavily as pain shot throw his body.

The troops moved forward to engage, but were frozen by Weaver’s magic almost immediately, like the two Force-Captains and Princess on the side, all simply looked on in fear as the Mysticore witch overpowered the Lord of the Horde. Tendrils of magic wrapping around his frame, tightening and crushing both him and his suit. He got a few good hits off on the woman, one punch braking a shadow construct, the second punch making contact with the witch and the impact threw her across the room. He knocked the wind out of her, that slowed her down as she tried to catch her breath. Bent over, eyes down, hands on her knees, she didn’t see another fist flying in her direction. The hit shattered her mask, pieces of the mask, spit and a single red droplet flew into the opposite direction of the punch. Luckily all the teeth were intact. That got her real angry.

The dark woman drew back her arm, a small black sphere appeared a few centimetres above her palm, red veins of electricity crackled around her hand and the sphere grew to the size of a bowling ball in seconds. And from it shot out a beam of black that hit Hordak directly in his chest. The pain and sensation it inflicted apon Hordak was indescribable, cold like the vacuum of space, while simultaneously burning like being in a whirlwind of a wildfire. He was pushed up against a wall and the dark beam kept him in place, the black mass spread across his body like a thick dense clay. The cold and the burning spread with it. His deep screams and yells increased in volume. Pain like a thousand knives stabbing his nerves.

“We had a deal! You stay out of my way and I stay out of yours! Simple! The Garnet is mine! No one else will touch it!” The black and red mass coiled and spiked, Hordak screamed so much he ran out of breath. “Watch! All of you!” Shadow Weaver turned to the guard troopers and the trio. “Watch as your leader and ‘Lord’ is defenceless, the conqueror conquered!” The clone general attempted to struggle against her hold, but it was all for nothing. The witch noticed the movement and had enough of this, she clamped her fist closed, tightening around the sphere, stabbing her fingers into it, and then flicked them out from the sphere. Like manipulating a voodoo doll, the black mass tore Hordak’s armour apart like plastic. “You were told to fear the Hordak, made believe that he was powerful, terrifying, a demon among men! And yet, all a lie! Look at him, your frail, weak, and sick ‘Lord’! This is the liar and fraud under whom you kneeled! Reject, banish this pretender! And pledge your loyalty to me!... or else.” She turned to Hordak for the finale time, and she blasted him out of the room through the wall, outside.

The soldiers were freed, and they quickly kneeled to the Shadow Weaver, very obviously out of fear. Catra, Scorpia, and Entrapta did so as well. And Hordak, several metres outside and below the point from which he was launched. His last moments of consciousness were that of the hole he was pushed through, a crowd gathering around him and a faint chant, “All Hail The Shadow Weaver.” And then the darkness took over.

“And how’d you make it out of The Fright Zone? All the way here? To BrightMoon?”

“That, I entirely do not know. I remember passing in and out of consciousness I... they must’ve dragged me out of my fortress and threw me out into the desert, to let the elements claim me. There one of your scouting groups found me, correct?” The trapped clone looked past the She-Ra at the BrightMoon’s angel Queen. Angella confirmed the latter half of the story, past that she had no idea. The moment the lilac skinned, feather winged, immortal Queen was given the report that some of her woman somehow managed to capture her nemesis and the leader of the Evil Horde, that moment ranked as one of the strangest in her life. She practically leaped off her golden throne and sprinted through the halls to the front of the castle. And true enough, there he was, bleeding and chained.

Hordak was thrown into the castle prison, or so they called it, but where the clone expected cold metal bars, hard floor, greys and other dull colours, and small claustrophobic spaces. Instead he was greeted with bright pinks and purples, soft pillows and blankets and armchair. He was confused. The only aspect of the location that suggested its own true function and purpose was the thin transparent glass-like, curtain, veil-like force field, a pretty rainbow effect coated the structure.

He did not know what to think of the ‘cell’. It was... nice. Even though the Queen acted like it wasn’t. He was pretty sure that the room was some sort of guest room, it looked too nice for a basement, but that was BrightMoon, they probably have storage rooms larger and grander than most rooms in The Fright Zone. “It is a prison!” The angel Queen argued. After the Queen’s long elaborate speech about how Hordak was a monster and the Horde was an evil unparalleled by anything in BrightMoon’s history, and how he should have been ashamed of his actions and that if she was like him she would’ve killed him where he stood, after all that the She-Ra entered.

“It’s just Adora.”

“Very well, She-Ra Adora.”

“Ugh.”

She massaged her templates, her very brief irritation was cut even shorter by a sharp ‘HA’ that escaped from the snickering Glimmer. “The Mighty Evil Lord Hordak, King of Horrors, the Baron of Bedlam, and the Master of Mayhem? Really? I’m kinda disappointed. You were our greatest enemy? Hahaha, can you even do one push-up? Let me guess Weaver uses your arms to pick broccoli out of her teeth? HA!” Hordak’s face remained blank, unphased, and unamused.

None of them noticed his pupils shifted as they were covered by crimson red lens, and they shifted to Adora. Curiously the She-Ra didn’t engage or enjoy the roast, even the stoic Queen and the Head-Sorceress both held cheeky smiles, but not this Adora. Her eyes remained fixed on him.

The difference between Adora and everyone else in that room was the fact that she was from the Horde. Adora had been with the Alliance for almost a year, it was only a few months ago she was still living in The Fright Zone, studying war under the symbol of the Horde. For most of her life she perceived Hordak as their leader, as a strong, righteous hero, a saint who sought to quell chaos in the world and install control, order, and peace. Adora and all the other cadets all their lives looked up to Hordak. To look down on him now didn’t come to her naturally. All her life she wanted to impress him and now she was told to insult him.

“Could you leave us?” Adora’s genuine and semi-serious question shocked everyone in the room. Glimmer was the first to argue, and was the most vocal about it. The Princess of BrightMoon found the request outrageous. Even Angella attempted to oppose her choice, placed a hand on her shoulder, told her Hordak was a manipulator and a conqueror, he could try to trick her. When she realised there was no dissuading the young woman she let off. She ended with telling the young She-Ra to be careful. Angella motioned for Casta and Glimmer to move out of the room.

Glimmer was the last individual to leave, she turned around and she stuck her tongue out, “You better watch yourself toothpick-arms! If you touch a single hair on her hair-!”

“I got this Glim! Thanks!”  Adora interjected, giving her a thumbs up. Glimmer squinted and walked backwards out of the room. And so Adora and Hordak were the only ones left. A tense silence filled the room. Neither really knowing what to say. Hordak didn’t know why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable, perhaps it was the look the girl gave him. She looked... disapproving, or disappointed. “The war could be over soon. At least that’s what all the others think, but if what you say is true, when I think the end of the war is further away than ever... You know, I don’t know if you know, but I was her ward, I think I was her pet, her favourite. It was hard to tell with her twisted version of ‘love’ if you could call it that. She certainly put everyone else down around me.”

“She certainly felt, in her mind, that you were ‘special’ in some way. She said so when I returned to The Fright Zone with you, and you two met for the fist time. Therefore I can definitely see that sort of favouritism forming.”

“...Wait... when ‘you’ first brought me back to The Fright Zone? D- Do you know where I come from?!” That exclamation gave Hordak pause. He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, he was trained in the art of war, to combat opponents on battlefields of any kind, he could withstand the void of space, and his mind altered to form battle strategies and tactics in milliseconds, of course all of those enhancements have been long lost because of his defect. But this, he was not prepared for. He adjusted his position on the soft fluffy armchair, no matter how he moved he felt his backside sink into it. He awkwardly cleared his voice, that unintentionally brought Adora’s focus back onto him.

“I... well... yes... I” Hordak was not a liar. In fact Hordak himself had no concept of lying, he didn’t know how to, the clone was loyalty personified. It was figuratively and literally beaten into him. So he had to be careful about what he revealed, he may have been truthful, but he wasn’t stupid, arguably. He didn’t want to show all his cards. So he choose to keep his portal secret, same with his origin. So as he replied he choose to leave some key information out, “I was the one who found you, my personal computer picked up an anomaly, a strange, powerful energy surge.” Hordak noticed Adora’s eyes widened, her mouth was gradually opening wider and wider, as she began to lean forward in captivation. “And, uhm, [clears throat] at the time I was not sure what I found, I did not know what you were. But in the middle of a field of quadrant PT5-5-03 in the west region of The Elder Forest, there I found a crying infant and that was you. And so I brought you back with me to The Fright Zone. I had no use for you, and the noises you were making were causing my anxiety levels to rise so I handed you to Shadow Weaver, my Minister of Magicks.”

Adora’s face betrayed the fact that she was disappointed, and the story was quite anti-climatic sooner than her raised volume did. “That’s it?! Not that I wanted you to, but I was expecting you to have stolen me from like a cradle or something. I kinda hoped you’d know where I came from.”

“I do not... I... am sorry?” That was true. He did not. Hordak’s confusion was apparent, he didn’t know how to react to the hero’s theory. And so they stood and sat there for a moment longer, neither saying anything. In that quiet moment Adora realised that the bat lord wasn’t... scary. I mean it was ‘Hordak’, so the name itself was scarier than the actual man, as all her life the name was taught to the cadets as a monstrous horror entity, ‘Hordak’ was a King who sat on top a throne of skulls and he ate hearts and everything died around his step, he had two heads, and he breathed fire. That was ‘Hordak’.

But the man that sat uncomfortably in front of her was no such thing, he wasn’t ‘Hordak’, not ‘The Hordak’ she was told to believe in, all those cadet scary stories they all told each other all kind of seemed non-sensical now, she had to admit. The man she was looking at was thin, slim, in a not healthy way. He looked like a skeleton, like a weak breeze could push him over. He himself looked weak and fragile, sickly even. Now she was getting worried just scanning over him, she thought maybe she should’ve offered him like some mint tea or warm towels or... or something.

“You’re nothing like what we expected.”

Hordak raised his brow ridge, “How do you mean?” He didn’t know why he asked, he shouldn’t have asked.

“I- no offense, but, uh, I thought you’d be a bit scarier, you know ‘a horror of biblical proportions’ something like that?”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He replied awkwardly.

“Yeah, no, no, it’s cool.” She scratched the back of her neck, “Soooo uh... oh did you say you didn’t know ‘what’ I was? I mean I haven’t ever seen your species around, in The Fright Zone or any kingdom I’ve been to while with the Alliance. Do your species n- eh, how do I not make this sound weird, not have babies? Do you guys grow out of cabbages or are delivered by storks, hehehe?” Her attempt at humour flopped as she noticed he didn’t seem to get it.

His eyes darted around the room as if he was thinking of how to articulate something, ”No we... people like me... we are not children, we are in this state all our lives, from gaining consciousness to death.”

“So where do you come from?”

“...That is enough. Leave me.” That was a shame, Adora thought they were getting somewhere, but the cold and the lack of emotion returned. He dropped the eye contact, he stared down at the floor, he turned into a statue, no slight motion betraying the fact he was a real person. Adora tried to start up the conversation again few times, to no avail. Hordak revealed too much already. So Adora left the room.

[keijikunn]

All Of Your Soul

Part of the @babythotshq mini collab!! You can check the other parts here!

Pairing: demon!Tsukishima Kei x gender neutral!reader Genre: angst, crack if you squint for like 2 seconds  Summary: Your superstitious grandmother always told you not to get involved with demons, but how could you not when Tsukishima Kei, the one you’ve summoned, was so alluring? Word count: ~3.4k

Author’s note: Happy Halloween!! I hope you enjoy this piece, and a massive shoutout to @hidden-otaku-stuff  @kaitycole  and of course @babythotshq who helped me out during the process of writing this fic! Love you all mwah mwah 💞

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, minor and major character death, yandere!tsukki, mentions of violence, mention of sex, swearing

Ever since you were a kid, your grandmother warned you about the evil creatures that cohabited the world you lived in. She was often called crazy because of it - after all, she was an old lady talking non-stop about demons. However, that topic amazed you rather than giving you chills down your spine. Your curiosity grew progressively as she told you the same thing over and over: “Don’t mess up with them, or else they’ll take your soul away”.

You always thought grandma told you those stories just to scare you off, to make sure you would stay in line. But the way you’d laugh it off at the age of 7 almost like daring the threat hinted your disbelief. 

"The entire hell can come get me, they won't be able to touch me!" you once told your grandmother, which earned you a scoff and a flick on your forehead. 

"Oh, Y/N" she cooed, almost in pity, patting your head. "You will regret it when you're older," 

And once again, you laughed at her. 

It became part of your childhood, long forgotten as the years passed by and the concept of believing in demons appeared to be silly. Your memory permanently buried it in the depths of your mind after your dear grandmother passed away, leaving this world with her tales from underworld creatures.

A long time since she passed,, you remembered the spooky way the old woman would tell you different myths when you were packing your belongings to leave for college. The old box stuffed inside the attic filled with dusty and thick books lit a lamp in your head, concluding your grandma used to tell you those stories. 

Not only did she have short terrifying ones, your grandma seemed to be way more superstitious than just believing in simple tales. Some of them had different symbols, with many side notes written - assumably - by your late relative. The barely readable handwritten overlapped one another, all information mixing into a big mess that you could hardly understand. 

“Granny was really into it, huh?” 

It wouldn’t hurt reading them - after all, it would be for the sake of your childhood. 

And just like you found yourself drawing strange patterns inside a circle on the floor of your bedroom with chalk, it hardly appeared but you didn’t mind. It’s just some made up stories, you thought, proceeding to let an airy laugh just thinking about your grandmother tossing and turning in her coffin. Your disbelief in these surely came from your young age. After that, all you needed to do was a single drop of your blood and say some weird phrases. 

“If it doesn’t work, it’s because of these freaking sentences,” you muttered, pricking your finger with a needle. As the red liquid fell on the center of the circle you drew, the difficult words slipped out of your lips.

A few minutes passed by after you finished the ritual and the bedroom was engulfed in silence. How you wished you could talk to your grandmother right now, just to rub it in her face that she was wrong - even though you had a mess to clean. Tossing the old book aside, you laughed at the situation you had put yourself in and undid a part of the draw. 

“You know, ever since you were a kid your sassy attitude got me on my nerves,” a second voice echoed, a male one. 

You have never turned your head so quickly in your life, looking for the person who just spoke to you. A tall, blonde guy stood on the other side of the circle; the black dress shirt had the first three buttons undone matching with the black slacks. He was handsome, and you wondered if it was your mind’s work to show you one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen (and imagined) in your life. “It’s rude to stare”

“I must be crazy,” you laughed, rubbing your eyes, when you opened them again, he was still there, with an annoyed look on his features. “Granny must be pranking me, there’s no fucking way I summoned-”

“A demon, actually you just did, haven’t you read the book, dumbass?” he hissed, rolling his eyes. The blonde man crouched to look at the poorly drawn summoning circle and scoffed. “I wonder how you managed to summon me, this shit is terrible, not to mention your Latin”

“Well, I’m sorry if it’s fucking hard to draw it, let alone speaking goddamn Latin!” This guy, this demon was pissing you out, and he had only been in your room for less than five minutes. “Okay, I guess you’re real, my grandma was right, go to hell”

“A lot of people have already told me this joke, and I have to remind every single human that it sucks,” he snapped angrily, before sighing in defeat and looking at you. “What do you want from me?”

“Me, nothing,” you chimed sarcastically. “I was serious when I told you to go to hell, demon.”

“Can you please not call me demon?!”

“So how should I call you? Rex?”

“Jesus, you’re so annoying-”

“I thought demons couldn’t say Jesus’ name, Rex”

“For fucks sake, it’s Tsukishima!” he said louder than he wanted, his voice vibrated inside your body sending chills down your spine. “You’re the worst human that has ever summoned me, and it was just for fun!” 

“Then stop complaining and return to hell, it’s not that hard!” you shot back, just as annoyed as him. A part of yourself, the superstitious one, the same one that had believed for a short while in your grandma, was screaming at yourself for picking up a fight with a demon, but your prideful one wouldn’t let that go easily. 

“I can’t just do it when you fucking used your blood while summoning me!” Tsukishima exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you know how to read? It clearly says that blood rituals are strong, they tie your soul to me.”

“You’re telling me you, a demon, can't undo this shit?” you asked, at the sight of the male shaking his head sideways you groan frustrated. "What kind of shitty demons are you?"

"A demon that is way smarter than you, idiot." he mocked angrily.

"What am I going to do with such a pain in the ass?" The question didn't look for a proper answer from him, but either way he grunted in protest. "If I pray to whatever god, will you be repelled?"

"You're really the dumbest human I’ve ever met," Tsukishima stated as he rolled his eyes. "Of course not, what do you think I am? An ordinary demon from a shitty movie?"

"Well-"

"You know what? Don't answer it," he cut you, shaking his hand as if the gesture would shut you off. "Clean this mess, it's giving me chills seeing such a bad job." 

"Use your demon powers to clean it all!"

"I'm not a fucking fairy!"

Tsukishima was just a single demon, but his presence seemed to bring the whole hell to you. His witty and unnecessary comments easily threw you off the edge, and as if he noticed, which he probably did, the man made sure to say at least one provoking statement every single time he opened his mouth.

It wasn’t easy to get used with his presence, especially when Tsukishima made sure to remind you every minute you were awake that “it’s your fault”. 

Yet, the demon did not tell you how to break whatever bond you established with him. You came to the conclusion that his duty whenever he was summoned was to annoy people out. What a useless demon, you thought once, just to hear him screaming profanities and insults inside your head.

You have never imagined that this situation would drag for so long. Tsukishima was there on your first day at college, and he made sure to make you embarrass yourself in front of your class. He was also there to ruin your first date with a cute guy from one of your periods, Inuoka ended the night a bit paranoid about someone following him around.

“I think you told me you weren’t a fairy to do this kind of thing, Tsukki” you commented sarcastically, feeling the anger bubble inside your chest. 

“You heard it right, Y/N,” he answered, throwing himself at your not-so-comfortable sofa, stretching his legs over the coffee table in front of it. “That guy looked like a little boy scared of his own shadow!”

“Why did you do it?!” The question came out more desperate than you wanted it to be. Inuoka wasn’t the first man Tsukishima pulled a stunt on, and by the way your personal demon (as you address him) acts it’s not going to be the last. “He was so nice, he didn’t deserve this childish attitude of yours!”

“Well, he doesn’t have part of your soul like I do,” Tsukishima muttered quietly, but his eyes spoke volumes about his feelings. The possessiveness shone in his golden-brown orbs, a hint of jealous maybe, and you wondered once again if he had feelings like you.

“Tsukishima…” 

All words left your brain as the tall man walked over you, holding your face with his hand. He ran his thumb over your lips and squeezed your cheeks with his grip, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “What are you-”

“You’re mine.” He spoke firmly, not giving a chance to say anything back. “I have a part of me in you and part of your soul is mine. You are mine”

Without a warning, Tsukishima leaned down to smash his lips against yours. His movements were harsh, but it didn’t take too long for you to give in into the heated kiss. Your head was empty, and all you could feel was his mouth on yours and a slender hand travelling inside your shirt. The lack of air in your system made you pull away from the contact, locking eyes with him with a clear question mark above your head. 

“What the hell was that, Tsukki?” The anger vanished, leaving behind confusion and a bit of… desire inside of you. 

“I’m just showing you who you belong to.” 

At that moment you couldn’t see all the red flags on that simple statement. The frustration of many failed dates piled up on your nerves to the point that you were not able to see the meaning behind those words. The mere thought of a man desiring you probably the same way as you did blinded you, and that made you snake your hands around Tsukishima’s neck and bring him down to another feverish kiss.

The rest of the night passed by like a blur, Tsukishima’s touch was hot on your skin - and you enjoyed it. The sane part of your brain didn’t have enough room to question your actions: what on Earth were you doing hooking up with a demon? Were you that desperate to be intimate with someone? As quickly as those thoughts invaded your mind, the man towering over you proceeded to take your focus to himself

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but once you woke up, feeling sore as fuck, you noticed Tsukki lying next to you. His eyes were closed, yet you knew for a fact he wasn’t in a deep slumber-  he didn't need sleep. Nevertheless, you took a few moments to appreciate the view, at the same time flashes of your previous activities together came to you just like a fever dream. 

“You don’t have a brain to think too much, dumbass,” he said without even looking at you, a sly smile graced his face nicely and you wondered if he was, at some point in his life, an actual angel. “Do you know who you belong to?”

“I’m not really sure,” you replied shamelessly. Tsukishima’s eyes opened to look straight at yours, arching his eyebrows at your daring tone. “All I remember is a very annoying demon being a bitch about a guy I was interested in”

Messing with Tsukishima became one of your favourite things, because his immediate response was to pin you on the next hard surface and engage in a messy kiss. Being with him was way different than any other relationship you've had, which weren't many since that demon was on your ass ever since you started college. 

Either way, you loved the push and pull between you two. The constant bickering would eventually turn into a heated make out session, and sometimes even more than that. You completely forgot that the man you were in a sort of relationship (if you could call it that way) was a supernatural creature; your mind chose to bury the important information of who Tsukishima really was: a demon.

His actions started to change after over a month or two since you fucked for the first time. Although the snarky and teasing comments were far from coming to an end, you found yourself curled next to him every night. Tsukishima would hold you before you sleep, even if he had to spend a few hours in the same position (which never lasted long, he learned in the hard way that you toss and turn a lot). 

You also changed around him, much to your surprise. You no longer found other men at college attractive; your Friday nights were spent on your couch with Tsukishima next to you, with a random movie on the TV while the two of you kiss. He was your getaway when things got too rough for you, with his hot touches and endless desire. 

Maybe it was the attention Tsukishima gave you, or perhaps that he has been with you for so long, but he managed to win your heart completely. Every time the blonde demon hissed “you’re mine”, how he always satiates your desires and even the awkward moments when he tries to cuddle you. Every little thing this man does pull the strings attached to your heart and mind. 

And you knew Tsukishima noticed your change of demeanor as well, how you got clingier as the months passed by, the soft tone on your voice and the lack of sarcastic responses to his mean comments. You were falling in love with him, and it was the most obvious thing Tsukki has ever witnessed during his whole life dealing with humans.

“I think I love you, Tsukki” you managed to say, your body trembled due to the intense pleasure the man above you just provided. His eyes were unreadable as he looked down at you, but you could dare to say there was a hint of fondness swimming in them. “I never thought it would be possible to fall in love with in all creatures, a demon”

“Yeah?” he caressed your cheek, tracing down to your neckline and pressing on the reddish marks on your skin. “And you were the almighty kid who didn’t believe in demons”

“A pretty annoying demon changed my mind, I have to add” the smile on your face was small, but held so much meaning. However, Tsukishima didn’t mirror your feelings, displaying a rather sadistic one instead. “And you, have you changed your mind about humans?”

“Who knows?” Tsukishima asked rhetorically, letting his body fall next to yours on the bed. "You're the most… interesting human I've met." 

You laughed at his comment, pressing your face against his side in a loving manner. The fact that Tsukishima stood still instead of responding to the display of affection went unnoticed by you; he was being himself, you tried to justify his stiffness. 

Your relationship with him was just like that: you being overly affectionate and Tsukishima… being himself, the hard to approach demon with beautiful looks and with a magnetic aura. You fell easily for him, like getting used to a new daily routine. In a matter of time you found yourself being more vocal about your quick paced heart, the butterflies flying inside your stomach and even the high pitched tone of your voice whenever you couldn't retort one of his comments. 

The man, on the other hand, didn’t follow this demeanor - in fact, Tsukishima started to act the opposite way. He would avoid your touches like the plague, leaving your apartment late at night and returning near the afternoon with purple marks on his neck and collarbones. Something inside you, jealousy, lit up like setting something on fire: wild, uncontrolled and destructive. Once it starts burning, it won’t stop easily. 

“Can’t you stop fucking other people around?!” You screamed at him, not caring if the clock on the wall just hit three in the morning. “Am I not enough for you?”

“Stop making a case out of it, Y/N” Tsukishima rolled his eyes trying to pass through you, only to be blocked by your body. “Jesus, why are you being so jealous?! We have nothing between us”

“I am fucking in love with you, dumbass!” Your high pitched voice was followed by a dead silence. Tsukishima stared at you blankly while you took deep breaths in order to calm yourself, but the adrenaline of your confession didn’t help you stay quiet. “I’ve been head over heels for you for the longest time and you proceeded to hook up with other people every night… Am I that easy for you? I love you with all my heart, a part of my soul is yours- why can’t you do the same?”

All you could hear at first was your erratic breathing pattern, then the room was filled with his laugh. He was laughing as if someone had just told him the funniest joke he ever heard, the way his torso bent forward to accompany sick amusement creeped you out. Tsukishima pretended to wipe a tear and smiled at you. 

“Oh, Y/N… You’re definitely something else, huh?” He said rhetorically, stretching his arm so his hand could cup your face. You stood still, suddenly unsure about his actions and words. Tsukishima has never used such a cold and psychotic tone with you, let alone that sadistic smirk hiding so many feelings. “So you finally accepted that you’re mine, right?”

“H-How can I be yours if you don’t give yourself to me, as well?” Never in your life have you felt so terrified, something in Tsukishima’s demeanor screamed that he wasn’t joking around. He was about to do something bad, and it would be against you. “Isn’t my love enough for you?”

“Well, to be honest? It’s almost enough” he agreed, his index finger traced down your cheeks, following down your neck until it pointed directly to the left side of your chest, above your beating heart. “So, shall I claim what is mine?”

The time seemed to be slowed down, your heartbeats were loud in your ears and your limbs were numb - you couldn’t move them at all. Regardless, it would be impossible for you, a mere human, to stop Tsukishima from slamming his hand against your chest. You didn’t feel physical pain, but the sensation of something, someone wrapping slender fingers around your inner self made you scream. 

“Tsukishima, w-what are you doing?” Your trembling voice made him laugh, the same hand he used to hit you fully on display for you to see him close it. The immediate reaction of you was a shriek, as if the demon was squeezing your insides. “What the fuck, Tsukki?”

 “Why are you so surprised?” Tsukishima asked with fake innocence, wiping the tears you didn’t know you shed. “You just told me you loved me with all your heart, that a part of your soul is mine… So I’m claiming my belongings, after all, this is the kind of demon I am: whenever a stupid little human like you summons me with blood, they sell their souls to me. It’s a matter of time for me to get it”

“I… I trusted you, Tsukki…” Your sobs interrupted your own speech. All the intimate moments you two have spent together were pure acting, meaningless, just to make you give your everything spontaneously to him. 

Your grandmother was right. You regretted every single interaction you had with Tsukishima, the demon you summoned before entering college. 

“Well, it’s your own fault.” With that, Tsukishima harshly pulled his hand backwards, leaving behind only an empty body with no soul. 

TAGLIST

crossed users are the ones i couldn’t tag!

@jovialnoise @paripedia @angmarwitch @shinhiromi @mariachiiii @elianetsantana @moonlightaangel @vicassa @boosyboo9206 @shrimpypenis @sunshine-hina @kozupresh @humanitysbiggestsimp @atsumubabe​ @sachirou-senpai

[providentially-demonic]

Miraculous Mystery Skulls: Chapter Eight

First Arc: a Spellcaster, a Ghost and a Mechanic walk into a bar Paris

Summary: On their honeymoon in Paris, the City of Lights, the trio of Vivi, Lewis and Arthur encounter more than sightseeing… in the form of monsters, supervillains and a pair of teen superheroes. Sometimes, miraculous things can happen, when you least expect it.

(A Mystery Skulls/Miraculous Ladybug crossover event)

A/N: This all started with this fic by @phantoms-lair and the silly idea of them running into Chat Noir and Ladybug while there. It grew…

It’s a tale of heroes, miraculous, found family and more (with a healthy dose of puns). Co-created and written with assistance from @phantoms-lair, so she deserves some of the credit and a lot of the blame! :P

Back to Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight: Un-kamen Sense

Arthur had just gotten out of the shower and emerged from the bathroom with a towel in hand, carefully drying his scarred shoulder and the connection port for his arm. Vivi was sprawled on the bed, wearing only a towel, and humming in pleasure as Lewis, hovering over the bed with his legs folded under him, gently combed through her wet hair. Zippi was amusing himself by jumping on the buttons of the remote, rapidly changing the channels on the tv. Thankfully someone (probably Lewis) had turned the volume down quite low.

Mystery was asleep in the chair. He’d woken long enough to scarf down an enormous meal sometime in the early morning hours and gone back to sleep. Vivi had just smiled fondly at him and said again that he had worn himself out and would probably sleep the rest of the day away. Arthur smiled as Vivi waved him to sit in front of her. She took the towel from him and took over the task of carefully making sure every drop of water was gone. He’d only made the mistake of putting his arm on right after getting out of the shower once. It had been shocking, to say the least.

Lewis suddenly made a startled sound. “Zippi, stop!” He commanded, dropping the comb and grabbing for the remote. Arthut and Vivi turned their attention to the tv as he turned the volume up. “— mak reporting on the Akuma attack at the Arc de Triomphe. Ladybug and Chat— LOOK OUT!”

Rubble filled the screen, huge chunks of stone tumbling down around the hapless reporter and her cameraman. There was a pained scream. The camera janked sideways and the image blurred, finally clearing to show a cockeyed view of the pavement. “Gerard, get up, we need to move!” The reporter’s voice cajoled from offscreen. “I— I can’t. I think my leg is broken!” The responding voice was strained with pain.

The camera was jolted again. “Son of a—” the reporter hissed. “Okay, okay. You stay put here and—” 

“Give me my camera back. I can still film.” The camera jerked again before focusing shakily on the reporter’s dust-streaked face and worried eyes.

By now Arthur had attached his arm and was throwing his clothes on as fast as he could. Vivi was already mostly dressed, kicking into her shoes and muttering angrily under her breath. 

“The akuma, calling themselves Big Boomer, has been leaving a trail of destruction all along the Champs-Élysées from near the Louvre to the Arc de Triomphe.” The reporter continued, crouched near the cameraman, who panned the camera to show the swath of shattered buildings. “Ladybug and Chat Noir are keeping Big Boomer occupied, though they have yet to strike a decisive blow—”

Lewis had already dropped his human guise and waited by the balcony doors. Arthur trotted over to join them, blinking as Lewis shoved a metallic-looking gold and black mask made of spectral energy into his hands. “I don’t want anyone seeing your faces.”

He was just as quick in passing a second mask to Vivi, stylized in silver, white and ice-blue. She made a delighted sound and put it on at once, throwing her arms around Lewis’s neck. He tucked his arm around her and held out his other arm for Arthur. Zippi darted over and tucked himself into the collar of Arthur’s vest.

Arthur wrapped his arm around Lewis’s waist and let Lewis lift them both from the balcony, the reporter still talking on the tv behind them.

“—deserve hazard pay for this—” the cameraman grumbled to the mostly empty room.

~~~~ 

It hadn’t taken all that long to deal with Big Boomer. Ladybug’s lucky charm had been a large wrench and with the addition of a nearby fire hydrant and Vivi’s ice powers, he had been frozen in place long enough for Lewis to snag the stopwatch around his neck and toss it to Chat to destroy. Arthur had been on crowd control, herding civilians out of the way and helping the injured cameraman out of the range of further injury.

Ladybug’s Miraculous cure swept over the area, repairing the destroyed buildings and swirling around the cameraman’s leg. He tested it after the ladybug swarm had gone, cautiously resting his full weight on it after a moment. “It’s better, thanks.” He waved off Arthur’s hand, grabbing for his camera. “Hey, are you one of those new heroes?” He motioned frantically at one of the people talking to Ladybug. “Did you come to help Ladybug save Paris? Will you do an interview? Ms. Chamak will be so hyped! Can I get your name?”

“Um—” Arthur almost flinched away from the deluge of questions. Vivi was more used to being the face of their investigations, the one who did most of the talking to clients and the occasional police interview after a case. But he forced himself out of his almost instinctual reaction and smiled for the cameraman. “No, thank you, on the interview. Maybe some other time.”

The cameraman looked slightly disgruntled. “Not even a couple of questions? You haven’t even told people your names!”

Arthur reached up and fingered the edge of his mask. A wicked smirk curved his lips as he saw Lewis heading in his direction, probably to rescue him from the media attention. “You can call me Kamen Sense.”

Lewis stopped dead in his tracks, spectral eyes blown wide. For a long moment he did not move.

Arthur deliberately winked at him. 

That did it. Lewis doubled over, laughing so hard he lost control of his voice and that strange spectral echo shadowed his delighted laughter. 

His ghostly laughter sent a visible shiver up the cameraman’s spine and he turned slightly to gape at Lewis, convulsed in helpless mirth.

“Did you say your name was common sense?” The voice at his elbow startled Arthur and he jerked around to stare at the curly-haired girl beside him. After a moment his brain connected and recognized her as the one he had saved at the museum and Marinette’s friend, Alya.

Another whoop of laughter escaped Lewis, and Arthur grinned. “Kamen,” he corrected, stressing the slight difference in pronunciation. “It means ‘mask’ in Japanese.” “Is that supposed to be a pun?” She squinted at him suspiciously. “I should introduce you to my friend Adrien. He’d love you.”

“Speaking of common sense, though, how bout you exercise some, and stay out of danger?” Arthur fixed her with a stern look. “You could be hurt. Again.” “I’m a reporter,” she retorted cheekly, “I go where the story is.”

“And the life threatening injuries,” the cameraman muttered, trying again to flag down the woman, who had turned her attention to Chat Noir. Arthur took the opportunity to head over to Lewis’s side. Despite his lack of a need to breathe, he was still wheezing from the fit of laughter. “You okay there, big guy? Didn’t think it was that funny.”

Lewis looked up, flickers of pink flame at the corners of his eye sockets attesting to just how hard he’d been laughing. “You—” he started, but shook his head, another spate of laughter escaping him.

Arthur chuckled and patted his arm. “If you can pull yourself together, shall we get out of here before those reporters descend on us too?”

That sobered Lewis quickly and he nodded.

Arthur tipped his head toward a nearby alley. “You grab Vi. I’ll meet you over there.”

With a nod, Lewis drifted towards Vivi, who was talking with Ladybug now that the reporter had focused her questions on Chat Noir.

Arthur slipped away quietly. Vivi and Lewis were more about showmanship, but Arthur preferred to stay away from the spotlight when possible. 

It didn’t take long for Lewis and Vivi to join him, and after making sure there were no prying eyes, Lewis lifted them both for the flight back to their hotel.

Back in the safe haven of their room, Arthur pulled off the mask and weighed it in one hand, staring down at the stylized face. It was gold, black, and silver, swirls that bore a strong resemblance to interlocking gears arcing away from the blank eyeholes and down the cheeks. The ends curved down where his cheeks would be, leaving his mouth bare and coming together to a gold-trimmed point on his chin, covering his goatee. Set directly above the brow of the mask was a stylized sunburst, mostly in gold but with a silver crescent overlaying the right side.

He looked up from it to the one Vivi still wore. Hers was asymmetrical, curving down in a crescent over the left side of her face, etched silver with blue and white swirls, like stylized clouds, that formed the eye and swept out across the bridge of her nose to cover her right eye. It curved up just under her lower lip, coming to a point on her right cheek. Suspended from the right eyehole, like a golden teardrop, was a tiny replica of the sunburst on his own mask.

The symbolism was not lost on him and he turned an eye on his husband, eyebrow climbing up. “Really?”

Lewis, back in his human guise, ducked his head and scratched sheepishly at the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want this Hawkmoth character to be able to identify you. Your safety depends on anonymity.” Arthur snorted and set the mask aside, “You big sap. Do you think I can’t see what those mean?” He flicked his mechanical hand first at the discarded mask and then at the one Vivi was taking off. “You are such a dramatic.” He stepped close enough to  reach up and slide his arms around Lewis’s neck. Lewis’s arms automatically went around, holding him flush against his body. “The sun and moon, huh?” His voice lilted teasingly.

Lewis sagged a little and pressed his forehead against Arthur’s, his energy tickling like static over Arthur’s skin. “You are, you know,” he spoke softly, lips turning up in a sweet smile. “You and Vivi are the lights in my existence. Without you, I’d still be lost in the dark.”

Arthur’s eyes prickled but he managed a laugh that wasn’t too watery. “Okay, but in that case, even though the colors fit her better, you’d have been better calling her the sun. I’m a pale reflection—”

“Hey, none of that!” Vivi squeezed herself under Lewis’s arm until she was pressed against them in the embrace.

Arthur huffed at her but dropped one arm to slide around her shoulders.

“Vivi’s right. None of it. You are the one who wouldn’t stop searching. You are the one who led me back out of the dark. Vivi’s the light in the darkest hours, but you’re the warmth of the sun.” Lewis’s voice trembled, wavering between spectral and human. “And both of you are my light.”

“You’re a sap,” Vivi sniffled. “But you’re our sap.”

Arthur could only nod agreement, his throat too thick for words.

~~~~

Later that evening, Ladybug and Chat Noir turned up for the training session that had gotten cut short the other evening. This time, with four sets of eyes leveled expectantly at him, Arthur announced he would take a walk, promising he would be back in an hour. With Zippi tucked into what had become his favorite hiding place in the collar of Arthur’s vest, he headed out. Wandering down a quaint street filled with shops, he browsed windows, stopping once or twice to pick out small tokens he was sure Vivi and Lewis would like. At a tiny Asian grocery, he found a bag of dried bonito flakes and another of dried squid. Glancing sideways at his passenger, he bought both and headed back for the small park where they had met the kids last time.

He settled in an out of the way spot and opened the bag, chuckling under his breath at the squeak of joy Zippi made when he passed the kwami the first bite of the squid. Chewing on a piece of his own, he couldn’t help a laugh at Zippi, with his cheeks stuffed full, enthusiastically trying to fit the rest of the piece Arthur had given him into his mouth. 

“Well, at least you have good taste,” Arthur chuckled. “Wish there was a place around here that made Surf’s Up Surprise. You’d love that, I bet.”

Cheeks bulging, Zippi looked up and made an inquiring sound.

Still chuckling, Arthur explained his favorite pizza to the kwami. Zippi’s bright eyes widened further with every word, until he launched himself into a dizzying spiral around Arthur’s head. “Want, want, want wantwantwant!!” he caroled. Landing on Arthur’s head he tugged pawfuls of hair. “You have to let me try that!”

“If we weren’t over five thousand miles away from the only place I know that makes it, I would.” Arthur reached up to detach Zippi from his hair. “Lewis make a pretty good version of it, if I beg him to, but, well, we’re not home...” He rolled his shoulder in a shrug and opened the bag of bonito shavings to let Zippi investigate. “And right now, we can’t leave Paris. And Fu...” he hesitated. “Even if we could go, I’m not sure he’d let me take you there.”

Zippi, with his mouth full of the fish shavings, looked up. He deliberately swallowed before speaking, high-pitched voice solemn. “You’re my bearer. I knew you the moment you touched my miraculous. He can’t separate us, because I’d find you again. And again and again, if I had to.” Zippi stuffed another mouthful of the fish in his cheeks. “So there.”

Arthur sighed. “Zip, I wish the world worked the way you believe it does.” “Oh, it does.” Zippi smiled, and honestly, Arthur thought it was a little blood-chilling. “Kwami are elemental forces of the universe, remember. We let ourselves be bound to the miraculous stones, because we like being able to interact with and help you.” He made a soft chirruping-sound that was at odds with the serious look, “If I were really determined, there’s no force he could level to keep me from finding you.” “Besides—”He laughed, the heaviness in the air fading like shadows in the sun. “Plagg and Tikki might be the oldest, but I’m the cleverest!”

Arthur shook his head, chasing away the last of the shadows. “What exactly am I going to do with you?”

Zippi stuffed more fish in his mouth. “What you’re supposed to! Use my miraculous! Be the hero you can be. It’s easy and so much fun! Together, we can jump and run anywhere. No walls to hold us!” He left the bag of flaked fish and whirled in the air. “You should try it! Please, please, please? I’m sure you’ll love it!”

His enthusiasm drew a chuckle out of Arthur. “Maybe.”

After he was sure a little more than an hour had passed, Arthur packed up the mostly decimated remains of the seafood and whistling, headed back to the hotel. He tapped softly on the door, just in case they weren’t done. Vivi opened it, and grinning, let him in. “They finished a bit ago,” she said softly. “But Mystery woke up and is being interrogated by Adrien.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

Arthur dropped a kiss on her upturned lips and slid past her into the room. Marinette was sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, Tikki resting in her cupped hands and munching on a cookie almost as big as she was. Marinette was a little pale, but looked otherwise unscathed. Plagg was perched on her shoulder, holding on to a wedge of cheese, but not eating it. His ears were back and his tail lashing in irritation.

Seated on the floor in front of Mystery, Adrien looked like he’d just won the lottery, asking question after question about japanese creatures in general and kitsune in particular. 

Mystery was trying to answer the rapid-fire questions, but looked more than a little lost. His ears were canted sideways and he shot a pleading look at Vivi.

She snorted laughter, sliding one arm around Arthur’s waist. “Don’t look at me for rescue, bucko. Your princess didn’t need it, after all.” She stuck her tongue out at the dog.

While she was delighting in teasing Mystery, Arthur glanced down at Plagg. “What’s got your fur all ruffled?”

Zippi stuck his head out of Arthur’s collar. “He doesn’t like dogs.”

Plagg hissed, but didn’t go after Zippi. “Shut it, fuzz for brains. Anyway, that’s not a dog. It’s even worse than that.”

“Oh?” Arthur inquired, smiling as Lewis came through the door, a bakery box in one hand and a plastic bag in the other.

“It’s a fox,” Plagg said sourly. “Foxes are just dogs trying too hard to be cats.”

Arthur stifled laughter as Plagg’s tail fluffed up.

“Excuse you!” Mystery yipped, ruff bristling. “Says a kwami pretending to be a cat!”

“Don’t make me separate you,” Vivi threatened.

Lewis passed pastries and bottled juices to the two teens. “Eat those. You may not think it does, but fighting metally like you were doing drains your reserves as much as actual physical combat would.”

Adrien didn’t hesitate, gulping down half the juice in one go, before stuffing a half a pastry in his mouth, quickly scarfing it to ask Mystery, “So why exactly are you pretending to be a dog? I mean, with powers like yours— You could go anywhere, do anything; not be bound by— by leash laws or cages or... or anything!”

Mystery flattened his ruff. “I— I think you’re perhaps letting your own— biases, shall we say— color that question.”

Plagg snorted. “You have no idea.”

Mystery shot the kwami a look, before turning his attention back to Adrien. "It’s not a matter of being bound, child. Rest assured, I am held by nothing I do not choose. No leash can hold me, no kennel could cage me. The only things I am chained to are those I choose to be tied to," He looked to Lewis, Arthur and Vivi, and it seemed his eyes lingered on Vivi longest. "And if I chose not to be bound at all, well, it would be quite the lonely existence." He rose to his feet and padded over to put his forepaws on Adrien’s lap and butt his head into Adrien’s chest. “You choose the bonds and ties that hold you.”

His grin turned cheeky and suddenly in Adrien’s lap, there was no longer a dog but a black, white and red cat that primly licked one paw. “As you see, even my form is nothing I am bound too.”

Plagg hissed and streaked over to perch on Adrien’s shoulder, growling at the not-cat in his lap. “Mine!” he hissed, tail a bottle-brush. “Get your own!”

Something softened in Adrien’s green eyes and he reached up to scratch behind Plagg’s ear. “Silly. Don’t get in a catfight over me.”

Plagg leaned into his hand, but didn’t lessen his glare at Mystery. 

With a saucy flick of his black tail, Mystery stepped out of Adrien’s lap and strolled over to Arthur, placing both forepaws on his pant-leg until Arthur bent and picked him up. “And there’s one of your bonds. Does it tie you down?” he asked from his new perch in Arthur's arm.

Adrien relaxed minutely. “No. No it doesn’t.” Marinette reached over and patted his arm. He rested his hand over hers and relaxed even more. He smiled at Mystery. “I get it.”

“Good.” Mystery nodded. “Remember that in the future. No bonds can keep you but the ones you choose to allow.”

Arthur set Mystery down In Vivi’s lap and took off his vest, leaving Zippi on the bed with the remains of his fish snacks. He perched on the arm of Vivi’s chair and slid his arm around her shoulders. “He has a good idea every now and again.”

Mystery, shifting back to his dog form, huffed up at him. “Every now and then? I—”

“You ran here from Texas, doofus,” Vivi chided. “That is hardly a ‘good’ idea.”

“It seemed like one at the time,” Mystery grumbled, curling up in a ball.

Artur glanced down at Mystery and then back at where he’d left his vest, and it’s occupant. There really hadn’t been a chance to introduce them. “Before we devolve into another argument, I think maybe we should introduce you to someone, Mystery." He reached down to caress Mystery’s pricked ears. “Being that’s he’s made it pretty clear he’s not going anywhere. Zippi?”

With a delighted chattering sound, Zippi abandoned the vest and darted over to hover over Arthur’s shoulder. “Hi hi hi. I’m Zikikii.”

Mystery’s red eyes narrowed on the little kwami before turning to fix on Arthur. “I feel like this is something I should have known about before.”

Vivi barked a laugh, poking Mystery with a finger. “There was hardly time to tell you when you decided a roadtrip where there were no roads was a good idea.”

Quickly she and Arthur gave him a rundown on what had happened, Arthur carefully leaving out how badly he’d been hurt in the incident. Mystery tended to get a little worried when he got injured, all things considered.

Zippi had perched on Arthur’s shoulder during the story and capped it with, “And he’s the holder of my miraculous now.” His tone made it clear that he didn’t care if Mystery objected.

Mystery’s hard gaze at Zippi held for a long moment that felt like an eternity. “You had better protect him, kwami, or I will use you as a squeaky toy.”

Zippi made an ugly sound, glaring down at Mystery. “I protect what’s mine.”

“Hey!” The harsh bark of Arthur’s voice made both Mystery and Zippi freeze, turning their attention to the object of their contention. Arthur picked Zippi off his shoulder and left him hanging in the air, turning so he could face both of them squarely. His thin face was set in hard, determined lines. “Boundaries, boys. Remember that I have them. I agreed to being friends, Zippi. That means I don’t belong to you. I belong to no one except myself. Not even Vivi and Lewis. I married them, I didn’t give up myself to them, so it would do you well to remember that.” 

He focused on Mystery. “We’re friends, Mystery, and I know you consider me part of your family, but that doesn’t give you sole responsibility for my decisions and safety.” He gestured sharply with his metal arm. “You tend to make bad decisions when you get scared, as if running all the way across the ocean to get here wasn’t proof enough. We’re family, Mystery. That means you can’t lose my affection. I’m still here, bud, and still your friend.”

Mystery whined softly and bracing his forepaws on Vivi’s arm, stretched his head out toward Arthur. “Sorry.” His voice was so low as to barely be audible.

Tension drained from Arhur’s frame and he stepped close and dropped his hand to caress Mystery’s head.

Zippi hung in the air, his eyes stricken.

Arthur sighed and held out his hand toward the kwami. “That doesn’t mean we’re not friends, Zikikii. It just means I won’t let you two get possessive, okay? I have problems with anyone thinking they can control me. Hawkmoth got a headache trying.” His smile was weak and lopsided.

It was enough for Zippi, who darted over to cling to his shirt.

Arthur sighed again and traced a finger over the stripes on Zippi’s head. “We’re okay,” he breathed. “Just remember that the next time, deal?”

Zippi nodded, still clinging tightly to Arthur’s shirt. “I won’t forget again.”

Vivi caught his eye and glanced significantly at his discarded vest and back to Zippi, who was merely hanging on to Arthur, quietly. Her eyes cut to Marinette and Adrien and the two kwami that accompanied them, Plagg was studiously smoothing his ruffled fur, but Arthur caught the glint of one leaf-green eye. Tikki wasn’t even trying to hide her concern.

Arthur bit his bottom lip. He really wasn’t entirely on board with the whole miraculous bearer thing, but right now, his concerns on the matter paled next to Zippi’s obvious distress. “So— um, you want to try the thing—?”

“Thing?” Zippi echoed.

“The magical moon make-up schtick? The what-do-you-call-it, transformation bit?”

Zippi’s huge blue eyes went even rounder, and a wordless squeal escaped. “Really? Really really you mean it?” He practically vibrated in place.

"Yeah. Might as well give it a go." Arthur was sure his smile looked a little forced, but he didn't think Zippi would notice. "So how do we do this? Anything I have to do?"

"You have to put my miraculous back on and say the words 'Zikikii Scamper', and that should do it." Zippi twirled excitedly.

"If you say so." Arthur's misgivings were clear in his tone but he went to fetch his vest and put it back on. He glanced at Adrien and Marinette, giving them a lopsided smile. "I'm gonna trust you two to keep me from doing anything too dumb."

Marinette smiled at him. "We will, but I don't think you will. Adrien and I are more reckless than you."

Arthur took a deep breath. "Zikikii Scamper."

The small kwami made a thrilled noise, bouncing before being sucked into the badge. 

Arthur felt a wild rush of power go through him. Strengthening him; making his every sense sharper.  His left arm reached up for the brooch.

No! I wasn't thinking of moving my arm! No wrong—  GETOUTGETOUT GET OUT!!!!

Zippi was suddenly flung from his miraculous, hitting the pillows on the bed faster than he was comfortable with. "Arthur, what—" The little kwami's words cut off as he saw his bearer.

Arthur was white as chalk, his eyes wide and terrified. No sound escaped him, but his mouth was twisted in a silent agonized scream. He'd flung himself backward, away from where he'd been standing, and he was clawing frantically at his robotic arm. He probably would have hurt himself if Vivi hadn't lunged forward to detach it while Lewis grabbed and held him tight. 

The moment it was off, Arthur collapsed, the tension in his frame gone. Lewis followed him to the floor, still cradling him tightly. Vivi barely had time to grab the wastepaper basket before everything Arthur ate that day came up.

Marinette was pale enough to have been Arthur's twin, but she gathered her wits and headed for the bathroom to wet a washcloth, her lips pressed so tight they were white.

"My arm....it moved...I didn't move it— but it moved." Arthur sobbed, shaking so hard his teeth were rattling.

Vivi, her expression grim, accepted the washcloth from Marinette's trembling hand and wiped Arthur's pale, sweating face with it, her motions slow and careful.

Marinette retreated and clung to Adrien's hand so tightly her knuckles were white.

"It's okay, Artie," Lewis soothed, running his hand through Arthur's hair. "We're here. You're okay. No one got hurt, I promise."

Zippi shrunk into the pillows, shaken. That wasn't true at all. Arthur had gotten hurt. This wasn't humility or apprehension. This was something very wrong. Something he didn't even know if Tikki could fix. He shot a pleading look at her.

Wide-eyed, she shook her head. Her creation magic could heal and work miracles, but this was a whole different level of trauma.

For a long, breathless span of time, there was no other sound in the room beside Arthur’s shaking, sobbing breath and the soft murmurs of Lewis and Vivi as they worked to soothe him.

Marinette could only cling to Adrien’s hand. What had Arthur gone through? She thought she had at least somewhat understood when Piano had possessed her, but it was very clear Arthur’s trauma ran far, far deeper than she had even guessed at.

Fur brushed against her legs and she jumped, a startled squeak escaping her lips. To her surprise, it was Mystery. She’d have thought he’d have joined in the soothing after the confrontation with Zippi, but instead he was pressed against her and Adrien’s legs, jerking his head silently towards the still-open balcony doors.

Quietly, they followed him outside, silent kwami trailing after them. Zippi cast one last despairing look at Arthur and followed too. It was his fault that Arthur was so scared and he didn’t dare try to help calm him.

Mystery nudged the door shut behind him and returned to where Adrien and Marinette stood together, feeling altogether like lost ducklings. “It’s best if I am not there, either,” he said softly, twining around their legs again. “As much as I want to offer comfort, in this panicked state, he will not see it as comfort, only another level of hurt.”

“C-can I ask you what happened?” Marinette whispered, her throat tight. She shivered, and not entirely from the cool spring night.

Mystery sighed, lowering his head, ears flattened against his fur. “I suppose it’s fair. What do you know?”

“Just that he was possessed once.” Adrien murmured, moving to press against Marinette’s side.

“And that there were fatal consequences,” Marinette’s voice was small, frightened.

“There was a cavern, rumored to be haunted, and we went there to investigate. There was a malevolent spirit there, something steeped in long years of blood and hatred. I sensed it, but was too late to stop it from seizing on the most vulnerable of us. It took him over, slowly, forcing his hand— quite literally. Taking control of his arm first, it sought more blood to strengthen it, by using that hand to—”

“To kill someone.” Plagg said suddenly. He tapped the side of his head with a tiny paw. “I could almost sense something, but it was muddled, I thought by the presence of the ghost. Death and decay are a part of destruction.”

Mystery nodded ponderously. “You have the right of it. Arthur was an unwilling, terrified participant in the murder— of his own best friend.”

Suddenly, it all clicked— a possession, an unwilling murder, and a ghost— and Marinette’s knees gave out. She sagged against Adrien. “Lewis! The spirit— it made him kill Lewis.”

Mystery’s head lowered even further. “Clever girl. Yes. With that death, the spirit would have had enough strength to completely subsume Arthur’s own spirit and leave the cave in his body, to wreak more death and despair elsewhere. To prevent it, it became necessary to remove the point of infection— his arm.” Mystery whined softly, looking away from them. “The possession itself, incomplete as it was, damaged his memory of the events, but he remembers well enough the feel of a body that answered to another’s will. It is a wound in his psyche that will not heal.” 

Marinette made a soft sound. She could still hear Arthur's ragged gasps and the soft voices of his spouses breathing reassurances. Every instinct she had was screaming that he needed help, and it was clear she was not the only one. Tikki flitted back towards the door. 

"Don't." The toneless words came from Zippi, huddled in the darkest corner of the balcony. "Leave him be. He’s scared, scared enough to throw me out mid-transformation. That’s not something— something words can fix.”

Tikki turned away from the door and went to Zippi’s side. “Zikikii—”

“I hurt him.” He turned his eyes up to her, his expression one of misery. “I hurt my own bearer. I’m not supposed to do that.”

Tikki sent a look back at the rest of them before pressing against the small brown kwami. “You didn’t hurt him—”

He barked a bitter sounding laugh, pointing back toward the room. “Tell me I didn’t.”

“You didn’t,” Plagg heaved a put-upon sigh, flitting over to join them. His bright green eyes caught the dim light from the streetlights below and flashed in the darkness. “What hurt him was his own mind. Yeah, you triggered it, by accident, but it’s his own mind doing the hurting.” At Zippi’s disbelieving look, Plagg rolled his eyes. “You think I haven’t seen this before? Tch, I’m the embodiment of destruction. Not— not all of my bearers were strong enough to deal with that.”

“Stinky—” Tikki’s voice was soft.

Plagg shrugged, still talking to Zippi. “He’s hurting, yeah, but it’s not you doing that hurt, not like it was me. I was the reason some of my ki— bearers were— not alright. There were times when Tikki and I hadn’t been active at the same time. She’s my balance, the exact opposite of me. Without her to mitigate what they had done— well—” Plagg looked away. “Just be glad your bearer’s still alive, Zippi. It doesn’t always work that way.”

Adrien came over and scooped Plagg out of the air, cuddling him close. Normally the feline kwami protested such gestures of affection (but accepted them anyway), but this time he leaned into Adrien’s hands. “You won’t lose me, Plagg.”

A rough purr vibrated Plagg’s whole form. “I know, kitten. I know.”

At that moment, Vivi stuck her head out the balcony doors. “You can come back inside now, it’s too cold to lurk out here. Arthur’s calmed down now, for the most part.”

Still holding Plagg tight, Adrien looked up to meet her eyes. “Are you sure? He— he might not want us here.”

Vivi puffed her lips out in a sigh. “He does. He wants you to see he’s— well, not okay, but getting there.” She reached out to Zippi, still hiding in the shadows. “You too, Zippi. He wants to see you especially.”

Zippi’s look was desperately hopeful. “He does—?” The hope in his voice was heartbreaking.

Vivi scooped him up, kissing the top of his head. “Yes. I promise, he does.”

Cautiously, they trailed her back into the hotel room, still uncertain of their reception, in spite of her words.

Arthur had been settled in the center of the huge bed, his back propped up against a pile of pillows. He looked too small, and pale enough that the pillows behind him had more color, except for the bruised-looking bags under his eyes. His arm was still where it had been discarded and his sleeve pulled down to hide the metal port where it attached. He offered a wan smile. “Sorry, guys. Wish you hadn’t had to see that.”

“Are you—?” Marinette cut herself off. He didn’t look, in any way, okay.

Arthur’s smile was a trace more real. “Not yet, but trying to get there.”

“Um— Mystery told us what happened. Don’t be mad at him please. We were worried.” Marinette rushed to say.

“Scared, you mean. No. I’m not mad at him. I’m still just sorry you had to see me like that.”

Adrien shook his head. “Don’t be. Yeah it was scary, but we understand what happened— now,” He glanced significantly down at Mystery.

Arthur huffed, not quite a laugh but close enough. He looked at Zippi, huddled miserably in Vivi’s cupped hands. “Sorry, Zippi, if I hurt you when I freaked out. I didn’t mean to scare you either.” He stretched his only hand out toward the kwami. Marinette could see how badly it was shaking.

Zippi peered over Vivi’s fingertips. “You— you didn’t hurt me,” his voice was small and uncertain. “I hurt you. I didn’t mean to!”

Arthur crooked one finger in a beckoning gesture. “C’mere, Zip. You didn’t hurt me. Something else did, a while ago, and it was the memory of that freaking me out. Not you.”

Zippi left Vivi’s hands and darted to the bed. He slowed as he reached Arthur and crept forward slowly to cuddle in his outstretched hand.

Arthur lifted his hand to bring Zippi close enough to nuzzle his nose against the top of the kwami’s head. “Still friends?” Arthur asked softly.

Zippi nodded rapidly. “Friends,” he confirmed. “I won’t ask you to do that anymore, promise.”

Arthur smiled. “I know.”

Lewis came out of the bathroom, a cell phone propped against his ear, and holding a hot water bottle that he gently settled against the shoulder of Arthur’s missing arm, dropping a kiss on Arthur’s brow as he did.

Arthur made a face. “Please tell me you’re not—”

“Do you have any idea what time it is, Kingsmen?” The rich feminine voice was loud enough to be heard in the quiet of the room, carrying a clear note of annoyance.

“You did,” Arthur groaned.

“Sorry, Dr. Quyn. It’s Lewis. I forgot the time difference “

“Lewis.” Dr. Quyn’s voice sharpened. “What happened? Is Arthur alright?”

“Not really,” Lewis said at the same time as Arthur raised his voice to say “Yes!”

"Cut that bullshit, Kingsmen. Your husband wouldn't be calling me at ass o'clock in the morning if something weren't wrong."

Lewis yelped. "Dr. Quyn, language!"

"It's aforementioned ass o'clock in the morning, so I am exempt from proper language. Now, being that you have woken me from my well-deserved slumber, what's wrong?"

Arthur clamped his lips shut, expression mulish. 

Lewis just sighed, turning the phone on speaker. "Something triggered a grand mal panic attack. Bad enough that he tried to claw his prosthetic off. He— well, it was a very, very bad moment. It took a while to talk him down, and well, he doesn't look good either."

Lewis turned the phone in his hand. The sudden light of the flash made them all jump. He tapped a few buttons, his mouth set in a thin line.

"Lewis—" Arthur groaned. "Do not text her my picture!"

"Too late, Kingsmen. You look like shit. Tell me what happened to trigger you that badly. From the top." There was no arguing with the command in her voice.

"My arm moved, but I wasn't the one moving it." Arthur wasn't arguing, precisely, but he was not going to make it easy.

"Hmmm—" Quyn's tone was thoughtful. "That is a very good reason for a panic attack, given your history. But stonewalling me is a game for people much, much older than you. You might as well talk."

Arthur looked helplessly at Marinette, Adrien and the three kwami before shaking his head and clamping his lips shut. “I can’t.” He drew his legs up, an almost instinctive attempt to hide.

“Arthur,” her voice softened and for the first time she called him by his given name. “You know who I am and what I am. Also the vows I have taken. Let me help you.”

“It’s not my secret to tell.”

Tikki left Marinette and flitted over to sit on Arthur’s upraised knees. Her gaze was steady. “I can’t help you. I don’t know how. My magic can do a lot of things, but not this. If she can, then let her.”

“I know that voice... Tikki?” Quyn’s voice was full of very real surprise.

“Ye—sss?” Tikki’s eyes zeroed in on the phone like she could see who was on the other end of it and she tilted her head to the side like a curious cat.

“I thought that was you. Kingsmen has gotten himself mixed up with kwamis now, eh? I don’t wonder why he’s being recalcitrant.” Quyn’s laugh was light and silvery, like the tinkle of windchimes. 

“Do I know you?” Tikki asked bluntly.

“Ah, sorry... I suppose it has been a while. When we first knew each other, I didn’t have a name, but you called me Dawn Fire. I go by Una now,” Quyn laughed again.

“Dawn Fire!” Tikki’s squeal of delight made Arthur flinch. She left his knee and spun gleefully in the air. “Is it really you? I thought... well, you vanished a long time ago!”

“Reports of my vanishing were greatly exaggerated.”

“Doc, you know about kwami?” Arthur’s tone was high-pitched and more than a little unsteady.

“Arthur, breathe.” Quyn’s voice turned calming. “Vivi, if you’re there, help him with a count.”

Vivi was quick to obey, sitting on the bed. “Artie, love, you heard your doctor, Breathe with me. One, two, three, and out. Three, two, one and in.”

Slowly, Arthur’s ragged breathing eased to match hers.

“That’s good,” Quyn soothed. “Just keep that up until you’re steady again. I won’t pry for the moment.”

Arthur just nodded in time with Vivi’s counting and Lewis relayed that aloud.

“Arthur, I’d like you to take something to help you sleep tonight. Do you still have your prescriptions with you?” Quyn asked.

“He does,” Lewis affirmed. 

Arthur made a thin sound of negation that was ignored. “Good. I know he’s taking the lowest dose he thinks he can get away with, so I’d like you to see that he takes a full dose before he goes to sleep. That and a sleeping aid. He’ll need them, all things considered. He said you could soothe him out of nightmares, yes?”

“Yeah, I can.” Lewis agreed. 

“You’re on nightmare duty then. Tonight will probably be a bad one.”

Marinette could agree with that. She had a feeling none of them would be sleeping particularly well tonight. She knew she wouldn’t be. Her stomach was in knots and she could feel the tension in almost every muscle. Adrien looked almost as wired, nervous energy making him bounce on his heels.

“I’ll make sure they don’t trouble him tonight.” Lewis promised.

“Good. Tikki, we’ll catch up another time. My client needs me.” Quyn said. “Arthur, keep breathing with Vivi, okay? Let me know when you feel okay to talk. I need you to tell me how you are feeling, when you can.”

“On it.” Vivi said in a pause between counting. She had caught Arthur’s hand and, after resettling Zippi on Arthur’s shoulder, she lifted his hand and splayed it over her breastbone. Arthur sagged a little more, some of the tenseness of his muscles easing.

Feeling like she shouldn’t be here, Marinette caught Adrien’s eye and started easing toward the balcony. Teeth in her pants leg brought her up short. Mystery released the fabric. “Stay. You’ve all had a pretty unpleasant shock tonight. No one should be alone.”

Marinette shook her head. “I can’t. My parents trust me and staying out all night would break their trust. I hate having to lie to them so I can save the city as Ladybug already.”

Adrien shook his head. “My father won’t notice unless I’m not in bed when Nathalie comes to get me up for class, but— I don’t want to get you in trouble, Ladylove.”

Marinette bit her lip. She knew she should go home, but she had a feeling she’d wake up screaming at least once tonight. She’s already had more than her fair share of nightmares. Dreams of being unable to save people she loved, nightmares of Hawkmoth turning Paris into an apocalyptic hellscape in whatever mad scheme he had for using their miraculous, among the usual anxieties of mundane life.

“I— I don’t want to wake Mama and Papa with my nightmares again, but—” she canted her head toward the bed. “I don’t want him to suffer either.”

Mystery shook his head. “Lewis— all ghosts are beings of memory— I’m sure you’ve heard of ghosts that appear, endlessly repeating some moment of their life or death. Nightmares are memories of a kind too; distorted fragments of things we know, things we’ve seen. Lewis can shift those memories into pleasanter ones, and thus ease the grip of night terrors.” He gave them a canine grin, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. “Do you think he would want you to dream of what has happened tonight either?”

The thought of not suffering nightmares was appealing, but Marinette shook her head. “I don’t want to take his attention away from Arthur. He’s the one that suffered most.”

Lewis, who had passed the phone off to Arthur, now that he was a little calmer, glanced over. “I think Mystery has the right of it. If you don’t mind me messing with your dreams, that is?”

“Mind?” Plagg snorted. “If the kid wasn’t too embarrassed to say so, he’d thank you!”

“Plagg—” Adrien hissed. “Shut up!”

“Make me.”

“I still need to go home,” Marinette shook her head. “As much as the thought of no bad dreams sounds lovely, I can’t do that to my parents.” 

“With a little help from your kwami, I can make it so they won’t even know you’re gone.” Mystery said smugly.

Marinette’s eyes widened. That could be useful. “How?”

“Kitsune, remember?”

“Master of illusion,” Mystery and Adrien said in the same breath.

“I can make an illusion spell strong enough to touch, as long as there is someone to carry the spell. Tikki, if she agrees, could pretend to be you long enough to go home and to bed, thus making your parents believe you are there all night.”

“I could do that myself,” Marinette protested. 

“But she can get out easier, with less chance of being caught. You are rightfully tired after tonight’s training and could far too easily make a mistake.”

“But—”

Adrien caught her hand and simply held it, and her. She couldn’t pull away. “Milady, let him. I—” He clamped his lips shut and glanced away, a hint of red shading his cheeks.

“Do— do you want to stay here?” She found herself asking.

“He does. And so do you, honestly.” Arthur’s voice was still shaky, but he seemed more himself.  “Frankly, I’d feel better with all of us under one roof, at least for tonight. And you guys need to stop pretending today didn’t shake you up almost as much as it did me.”

“He can be taught,” came a laughing voice from the phone still held loosely in his hand. 

Vivi snickered and kissed Arthur on the forehead. “Now you know what you sound like, love, when you act like you’re fine even when you aren’t.”

Arthur wrinkled his nose at her. “Shush.”

“Can’t make me.”

“If that’s all settled,” Mystery broke in. “Tikki, are you willing to play Marinette for a bit?”

"Marinette?" Tikki asked.

Marinette bit her bottom lip. "Only if you're okay with it, Tikki."

"Normally, I wouldn't be, but these are hardly normal circumstances. More than anything, except getting Nooroo back and defeating Hawkmoth, I want you safe, in both body and mind." Tikki glanced over at Lewis. “If he can help your nightmares, even for just one night, I consider it worth it.”

“Yeah.” Was Plagg’s contribution.

Marinette kissed Tikki on the forehead. “You are wonderful.”

Mystery settled himself in a corner of the room and transformed, becoming the huge multi-tailed creature of last night. He nodded at Marinette. “In front of me, if you please. I want to be sure to have every nuance right.”

Nervously, Marinette went to stand where he indicated. He nodded and used one paw to indicate she should turn around,so he could study her from every angle. Awkwardly, she obeyed.

He turned his attention to Tikki, hovering near Adrien. “Ready?”

Tikki nodded firmly. “Ready.” She floated closer to him.

Mystery’s tails rose up behind him, weaving sinuously in an ever changing pattern. He breathed out and from his muzzle came a cloud of gold magic, laced liberally with sparks of bright red. It swirled around Tikki, eclipsing her from sight. All his tails swept forward like a fan, and the mist blew away. Where Tikki had hovered was a perfect duplicate of Marinette down to the tiniest details.

Tikki looked down at herself, and poked her own arm with a pink-painted fingernail. “Oh, wow. This is new!” She giggled and turned to Marinette. “Now that I’m this size, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.” Tikki reached out and reeled Marinette into a firm hug, squeezing tightly for a moment. 

Marinette hesitated for only a second before hugging back, burying her face in Tikki’s shoulder.

Tikki kissed Marinette’s temple before releasing her. “Best hug ever!” She grinned and turned an impish smile on Plagg. The cat kwami yelped and tried to hide behind Adrien, but she caught him and cuddled him to her cheek. Plagg yowled, struggling to escape. Still giggling, Tikki kissed his forehead before letting him go.

Plagg darted back to Adrien, glaring daggers at Tikki. 

Marinette giggled softly herself, leaning her shoulder into Adrien’s. 

Some small measure of her usual happiness had come back into her eyes, and Adrien was glad of it. Any other night Adrien would have reacted with glee at the sight of two of his Ladylove, even knowing one was her kwami in disguise. Tonight though, he was just grateful for the extra level of comfort Tikki was providing. He only hoped he could provide as much tonight, when Tikki was away on her deception. He clipped his hand over Marinette’s and squeezed her fingers lightly. To his gratification, she returned the gesture, twining her fingers with his and leaning her head on his shoulder as Vivi let Tikki out and called down to housekeeping for more pillows and blankets

~~~~

Lewis woke them both in the pale light of dawn, so they could sneak back home before anyone knew they were missing. Thanks to him, neither had woken up with nightmares, and felt almost well-rested. They parted ways on the rooftop of the hotel, Marinette giving Adrien a quick, shy kiss, before transforming and leaping away and back to the bakery. Her parents were already up, of course, but she slipped in through the skylight unseen and began her morning routine, though far less hurried than normal. She padded downstairs to greet her surprised parents and was sent off to school with a box of fresh pastries to share with her friends.

After school she walked home with Alya, listening to Alya’s running commentary on the views her blog had gotten since the reveal of the ‘new heroes,’ and laughing at some of the ridiculous names people had already submitted on her poll.

They had just turned a corner when what sounded like the rumble of thunder made them look up, but the sky was cloudless and bright. They barely had time to exchange a confused glance when the earth beneath their feet jolted.

Marinette yipped and clung to Alya as the pavement bucked like a startled horse underfoot. All up and down the street, cracks opened in the sidewalk and pavement while windows rattled or shattered. It sounded like a low constant growl of thunder as the ground tried to shake itself to pieces. People staggered and fell, screaming and crying out in panic. “Wha—?”

Still holding onto Marinette, Alya dragged them both into the shelter of a doorway, tugging her down to her knees and hunching over her. “Earthquake! Stay down, Marinette!”

Marinette shank as dust and tiny chips of mortar showered down on them. It was several minutes before the shaking and heaving of the ground stopped. The rumble of the shaking abated, leaving only panicked cries and the shrieking of varied alarms. Marinette struggled to get her feet under her, but Alya hung on tightly. “Stay down,” she said urgently. “There might be aftershocks—!”

As if in punctuation, the ground heaved again.

[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part XV

Nefarious They

Trigger warnings: Canon violence/language/gun use. Mature content *throws lemons* so look out

Game spoilers

Please enjoy!

 “It was deliberate. A direct attack on Sanctuary.”

Hancock idly flipped his tricorn, “Hmm. I’d say more like it was a attack on you, sunshine.”

“What do you mean? I wasn’t even here.” Wraith, who had been examining gouges in some of the trees that bordered Sanctuary’s fence, now turned to the ghoul, confusion on her face, “I thought that they waited until they were sure I wasn’t.”

“I don’t doubt it; you’re too terrifying to mess with directly! But you’re hurt if your loved ones are hurt, you feel me?” His smile was pitying, “If someone wants to punish you, make you suffer, than the best way is to kill your people.”

Confusion turned to anger and then swiftly to fear, “To hurt me…”

“Trouble is your people are very strong. MacCready and Danse alone could take out a score of… whatever they got.”

“They… who are ‘they’?”

After returning Valentine to his wife and appointing a new Quartermaster to Diamond City, Wraith had made good on her promise to Edward Deegan; offering her support and condolences as they delivering the remains of Emogene and Virgil to the Cabot house. Afterward she had continued on with her interrupted schedule by travelling to The Castle to check in with Preston. A few weeks had passed since the incident and Wraith would have had nothing to go on but hearsay had Danse not taken pictures.

As soon as he had known Panther would recover, he had taken the settlements camera to the breach. The photos documented the unmistakable Mecanum wheel tracks left by a sentry bot leading to and from the massive hole in Sanctuary’s defense as well as boot tracks from the aforementioned ‘They’.

“I suppose the robot dragged the caged deathclaw here too.” Wraith was running her hand back and forth over her freshly clipped hair, “Why didn’t anyone hear it? Or see it? I supposed they could have rigged it up with a stealth-boy and waited until Mac’s class started… Rust Devils? They certainly would have the knowledge…”

“They ain’t particularly stealthy though. They like it when their victims know whose victimizing ‘em.” Hancock took her fidgeting hand in his and squeezed it gently, “And if they knew to wait for MacCready’s class to mask the noise then that means there’s been a spy skulking round for a bit. Seen any new faces lately?”

“I haven’t been here… I should check in at the gate and the Rocket; talk to Tina, she was a Devil.”

“I don’t get how they could have dragged a caged deathclaw cross the Wealth without attracting some attention. I realize the population ain’t exactly dense…” Hancock paused, smiling to himself on his phrasing, “Somebody had to have seen somethin’.”

“You up for playing detective with me?”

“I’m always down for some roll-play.”

 Tina shook her head emphatically, “No ma’am. The Devils would want you to know it was them. It’s possible this was staged to look like them to make you crush them.” She offered Wraith a somewhat abashed smile, “It’s not like there are many of them left for you to punish.”

“The Hounds have been doing a commendable job in keeping Minutemen settlements safe. You should be proud, Tina.”

Lifting her chin, the former raider gave Wraith a sharp salute, “I am very proud, general! Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

Stepping out of the Red Rocket, Wraith winced as the wave of light and heat washed over her, “Ugh… so…”

“Who’s left?”

“This seemed more organized than your average raider group. L&L?”

Hancock was quick to dismiss them, “Not likely.” He removed his hat and held it aloft, blocking the sun from Wraith’s face as they walked, “I’ll have my network look into things. We’ll figure out who’s fuckin’ with ya and serve them up some bad days. No worries, sunshine.”

“In the meantime, I guess I’ll have the Minutemen make sure to check new visitors. I’ll reinitialize long patrols on all settlements… I hate to do that but we are going to be on high alert.”

Bear stopped them after they passed through the gate, “C’mere a sec, Wolf. I want to measure your feet.”

“My feet? Oooo, are you going to make me some new gofasters?”

“New gowhatnow?”

Bear chuckled, “It’s slang for ‘sneakers’, Johnny Boy. And no, I’m making you some serious shit-kicker boots! That deathclaw hide made some fantastic leather and I’m itchin’ to start creating.”

Wraith had worked with the ghoul to re-build the home just to the right of the bridge. Now with a full workshop and storefront, Bear’s business was booming. So much so that he had begun an apprentice program, just so he could have assistance with the near-overwhelming volume of orders.

“I noticed you seem to make a big deal about everyone else’s birthday, while doin’ your best to pretend yours don’t exist. Well, I’ve literally known you for centuries, so I’m making you something special and I want it done for the BIG one.” He passed her a vest as she sat down, “Try this on too.”

Wraith groaned, “Two-hundred forty years…”

“You’re only as old as the woman you feel.”

“It’s not the years, it’s the mileage.”

“Thanks, boys. That’s great. Super helpful.”

Bear clapped his large hands together, “Oh yeah, I finished the new armored jackets for the Hounds.” Turning, he grabbed an enormous coat off of a rack and held it up for them to see, “I even made one for my buddy Strong!”

The garment’s main body was fashioned from dark green leather and on the back the Hounds’ symbol, the Triskelion was done in golden inlay.

Hancock whistled appreciatively, “That is some mighty fine craftsmanship there. You’re a true master!”

“Incredible! Cait is going to spaz!”

“You think so?” Bear ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed, “You think she’ll be happy?”

Hancock’s eyes crinkled in a warm smile, “Yeah, brother. She’ll love ‘em.”

Leaving the shop, both were quiet as they entertained happy romantic thoughts. Arm in arm despite the heat, they slowly made their way up the street. Sudden bombastic laughter made them both jump slightly and as they turned a corner they could see Duncan, mouth open wide, laughing and pointing at Shaun. Wraith’s grandson was singing and dancing in a goofy manner along to the radio.

“Pretty good set of pipes on that kid… Nate sing?”

“Not as well as you. Honestly. I’m not just saying that to blow up your ego, or get in your pants.”

“I like it when you do those things too though…”

“Anchor! Anchor!” The song had ended and Duncan was clapping and shouting, “More! Anchor!”

Breathless, Shaun bowed with mock solemnity, “Jus a min, Dunk. I wanna talk to Grandma Wraith...”

Wraith clapped as well, “Anchor? What’s Anchor?”

“Oh, he just means ‘encore’. Dr. Curie said it earlier… So, speaking of that; Cap’n Danse left the clinic a little bit ago and he looked, I dunno… like, scared.”

“Brother Shaun! I asking politely, please!”

“Give me a second please.” Shaun smiled and shook his head, “He’s really needy today… So, yeah… um maybe you should poke your head in and see if Dr. Curie and…”

“I ASKING POLITELY!”

“Not at that volume.” Even with a quiet and even tone Shaun’s admonishment cracked like a whip.

“You have this under control?” Wraith popped her chin at the now apparently sullen Duncan.

“He needs to know I’ll stop playing with him if he gets too bossy, right?” Shaun flashed her an impish grin, “It’s just as important for a child to be told ‘no’ for reasonable reasons, as it is to receive positive reinforcement.”

“Ha! Well alright then.”

“That one from you?” Hancock tucked his chin, his question quiet.

“Yeah, but hearing it said back to me… ugh, it sounds really…”

“Robotic?”

“Yeah…”

Once inside the clinic, Wraith knocked politely on Curie’s exam room. Both jumped back when the door flew open and Fahrenheit, face scarlet in fury, yelled at them.

“I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE!” As soon as she realized who she was roaring at, the red in her cheeks deepened, “What do you two want?”

“I’m sorry Fahr; I thought your exam would have been over…”

Curie’s voice carried an uncharacteristic tone of irritation, “Mademoiselle’s exam has not yet started.”

“This is all just a waste of time! I will not be a party to this farce!” The redhead swept out her hand, seeming to indicate all of Sanctuary, “I will not stay here for the remainder of my pregnancy to be poked and prodded!” She stabbed a finger in Curie’s face, “Perhaps you’ll do better to convince Mrs. Valentine to be your lab rat. I will not!”

“Who said anything about you staying here? I thought you just came to get an ultrasound? Maybe hear th’ lil one’s heartbeat…” Hancock’s face clouded in confusion.

“I simply asked.” Curie pushed herself to her feet and frowned at Wraith, “This… woman… yelled at Danse after I asked him to help me move equipment.” Her struggle to maintain a professional tone was becoming increasingly apparent, “He would have naturally left before the examination commenced! Her… bellowing was unnecessary!”

“YOU’RE UNNECESSARY!”

“Okay whoa!” Hancock stood between them with his hands up, “Let’s all just breathe…”

Wraith’s laughter cut through the room like a saber, “Ha ha… you’re… hahaha.”

“I fail to see what is so damn funny.”

“Fahrenheit this is so unlike you! No one is going to make you do anything! As if we even could.” Wraith wiped a tear from her eye, “I’m sorry for laughing but this has gotten really out of hand, right? You came all this way… so let’s regroup. Do you want me to stay? Do you want your dad here? You tell us how you want this to go.”

“Monsieur Hancock is… oh my.”

“He raised me but he didn’t help make me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

She rolled her eyes, “Semantics… you were pivotal in my development as an individual. Satisfied?”

“Quite.”

Fahrenheit’s shoulders sagged, “Very well. I might have overreacted. But I am firm in that Amari will deliver my child.”

“But surely my procedural knowledge far outweighs even Dr. Amari’s.”

“How many babies have you delivered?”

“Well… none.”

“She has delivered several to drifters; in poor health, no less.” She gestured to Hancock, “He himself has helped with at least four in my memory. Their practical experience far outweighs your procedural knowledge, Dr. Curie.” She offered the synth a slight smile, “If we can time it out and you would like to come and observe, I suppose I would have no objections.”

“You’ve delivered babies, Hancock?”

“Helped. I helped. Mostly just made sure there was clean water and a hand to hold.”

“I’ve been made to understand that even these simple things can be pivotal, oui?” Curie sighed, “I would be remiss if I did not defer to the mother.” She turned and pulled a book from the shelf behind her desk. Smiling, she offered it to the ghoul, “In that case, please accept this, Monsieur Hancock. I know you will have no difficulty in committing it to memory and I am certain Dr. Amari will find it useful as well.”

“Tiny, Tiny Babies: All You Need to Know About Pediatric Medicine.” Flipping through the first few pages, his smile was tender, “I might get choked up here…”

“In that case, please leave! I’ve had my fill of hormonally-induced, excessive emotion today. Thank you.”

“Fine by me.” Smiling wickedly, he kissed the top of her head as he passed her on his way to the door, “Love you, Fahr.”

“I said no more.” Her smile betrayed her tone.

 That evening, Wraith used her guests as an excuse to throw a settlement-wide cookout. The outdoor communal dining area was filled with the sounds of people happily eating and visiting. Wraith sat at a picnic table with the MacCreadys, Shaun, Hancock, Fahrenheit, Curie and Danse. Sighing with contentment she watched their faces, committing their expressions and happy tones to memory; fighting dark thoughts about how she might have lost them to the deathclaw.

Fahrenheit’s exam had gone well and she agreed to go back after dinner so that Hancock could hear the heartbeat of his grandchild.

“You and Mikey come up with some names yet?”

“No, MacCready; Michael and I will decide when we actually meet the child.”

“You see my eyes rolling, right? Jeez.”

“Mon ours, would you pass me the carrots? Merci beaucoup.”

“What’s ‘ours’, Docker Curie?”

“It means ‘bear’, sweet boy.”

His cherubic face screwed up in confusion, Duncan pointed at another table, “Unkie Bear is right there.”

“It is a nickname that I have given to Danse. It demonstrates the deep affection I have for him.”

“It’s like how Wraith calls you ‘Dunk’ and me ‘Mac’, because she loves us.”

“Oh, you call Mr. Cap’n ‘Tin Can’ cause you love him too, right daddy?”

MacCready choked on his Nuka Cola.

“Is that true MacCready? Do you love me?”

Danse’s tone was so perfectly deadpan, Wraith couldn’t trust herself to look up. Afraid she might ruin the moment, she feigned fascination over the carrots on her plate.

Looking down at the hopeful and sweet smiling face of his son, MacCready visibly swallowed, “What… ahhh… what’s not… to… to love?”

“You alright MacCready? Looking painful o’er there.” Hancock’s voice shook slightly with suppressed mirth.

“… just overcome with love, man. Overcome…”

 Later, Shaun was helping Wraith wash dishes and she could tell he was working himself up to ask her something big. Alone in her kitchen, with the radio softly playing, he would normally hum along. Quiet and stiff limbed, the youth practically shouted anxiety at her.

“Mr. MacCready says that I’m a really good shot.”

“Mmm hmm. He brags about you almost as much as he brags about himself.”

I have a feeling I know where this is going…

“I was able to disarm Nat almost every drill and my throws have gotten better too…”

“You certainly have improved but don’t forget; it’s almost impossible to defend against a knife without getting cut. If you can run away…”

I’m not going to make this too easy on you, kid.

“Yeah, I remember. So, I heard that you were going to start long patrols back up…”

“Yup.”

“If… if Mr. MacCready goes out, may I go too?” He stood perfectly straight with his arms down to either side and his chin high. “I won’t get in the way and I think that if we bring Dogmeat or… or another adult…”

“I’m not sure Mac will want to leave Duncan.” Wraith reached out and tapped her grandson’s elbow, hoping the contact would help him relax, “He isn’t, technically speaking, a member of the Minutemen. He has gone on long patrol before, that’s true, but mostly it was because he was frustrated and bored.”

Shaun’s face fell, “Oh…”

“I tell you what; it’s up to him. If he agrees and you take both a Minutemen solider and Dogmeat, then you have my permission.” She held up a finger in the face of his jubilant bouncing, “Maybe not a loooong patrol, okay? Maybe a longish patrol.”

“Really! Oh cool!” Suddenly serious he schooled his features back into attention, “I won’t let you down, General!”

 “Why are you laughing at me, Mac?!”

The sun had set and Sanctuary was quiet. Sitting on the bench next to the mill, Wraith and MacCready waited for Hancock and Fahrenheit to finish at the clinic. Snuggled up under his arm, she had told him about Shaun’s proposal.

“I’m just surprised ‘s all. You barely let the kid go to the bathroom by himself…”

“Oh, please! I’m not that bad…”

“Uh huh. Yeah. Sure.”

She dug a knuckle into his ribs, hitting a particularly ticklish spot, “Robert Joseph, you take that back!”

When he attempted to twist away, she hooked her arm around his waist pulling him fully beneath her. Popping herself up, she straddled him and held his arms; pinning him in less than a blink.

Breathless and aroused he tried to lean toward her, “Or you’ll what? Tell me what you’ll do to me.”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” Smiling evilly, she shifted her pelvis, grinding against him, “See how close I can get you? Hmm? Make you shudder and shake…”

“Please, yes…”

“That’s it, ask me nicely.” Reaching down between them, she palmed him through his jeans.

“Plea… uhhhh.”

She stopped stroking and gave him a squeeze, “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Don’t stop. Please don’t… God yes. Just like that. Please, Wraith. Please touch me.”

“Why, I’m surprised at you!” Arching over him, she bent to set her teeth on his neck, nipping gently even as she slipped her hand beneath his waistband, “Asking for such things on a public bench.”

“You’re so… I’m… puh… ye… plea…”  Close to climax, he bucked involuntarily into her hand.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me how good it is.”

“Shit! Wraith, it’s so fucking good… I’m gonna… HUH UHHhhhhhh!”

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, MacCready suddenly sat up and pulled Wraith to his chest, kissing her hard, “Your turn…”

“Oh yeah? I don’t know; I’m not an exhibitionist…”

“There’s no one to see…”

“I can see you two got started without me.” Hancock smiled down at them, “And I hear that foul mouth of yours, Robert. What’s the matter, house too full?”

“Nothing quite like screwing on a hard bench outdoors…”

“Mills open, ain’t it?” Hancock opened the barn door and bowing, bade them enter.

MacCready picked Wraith up princess style and carried her across the threshold, “Good, you can help me with something.”

“From what I could see, you got it well in hand.”

 Bossy and the Goodneighbor provisoner caravan arrived a few days later. Despite his protests, Fahrenheit had insisted that Hancock stay with Wraith.

“You’ll drive me crazy. I’ll not have you under-foot and following me around.” Her tone softened briefly when a flash of hurt crossed the ghoul’s face, “Stay for a month and return home on Bossy’s next run. I’ll be sure to contact you, either through Radio Freedom or a courier, with any new information on the deathclaw incident.” Then to everyone’s amazement, she embraced Wraith, “I want to thank you Queenie, for everything you’ve done. Oh, and one more thing; the mattress in your guest room is terrible. I’ve slept on cobblestone streets that were less… lumpy. I’m almost positive, judging from what I know of you, that is most likely the best bed in the house. I’ll have Daisy find you better ones.”

“Oh… Okay Fahr… thank… thank you?”

“A larger one for your room as well since you are oft sharing a bed with two others. Especially since MacCready sleeps like he’s making snow angels.”

“Oh, I do not!”

“You kinda do…”

“Be well.” Turning briskly, Fahrenheit led the caravan through the gate an across the bridge.

“What the heck is a snow angel anyway?”

“Like this, daddy.” Duncan flopped onto his back and made angels in the dirt.

“Smart kid.” Hancock scooped the small boy into his arms and tousled the sand from his hair, “Your aunties teach you that?”

Sighing, he laid his head on the ghoul’s shoulder, “Yup. I miss ‘em.”

“Good thing it’s bath night...” MacCready sighed as well, “So, are you going to start on the new greenhouse or are you two going to go talk to the Abernathy settlers?”

Hancock passed Duncan to his father, “I still think it’s a dead end; they would have sent someone if they saw something.”

“I’m not going to leave it to chance. Any small detail could prove invaluable.” Wraith smiled at the MacCreadys as they hugged each other, “What about you, Mac? You figure out a ‘patrol for beginners’?”

“Yeah, Tenpines. I’ve got a couple more days of lessons then we’ll head out.”

“You takin’ Lloyd?”

“Naw, man; I’m going to let Shaun pick.”

Hancock gave him a mischievous grin, “You know he’ll pick Danse, right?”

“That’s fine,” He rubbed noses with his son, his voice going up an octave, “cause we all loooove Mr. Cap’n, don’t we?”

 Hancock was right. The trip to and from the Abernathy farm was both uneventful and fruitless. Frustration drove Wraith to sleeplessness and she slipped away from her lovers to go for a late-night walk. Her intention was to do a complete circuit of Sanctuary but instead found herself at Nate’s grave. To her surprise, Curie was standing near the make-shift headstone. Not wanting to shock or scare her, Wraith froze in indecision.

“What ez it, Panther?”

The large feline walked through the synth’s legs and padded to Wraith, whiskers extended.  Crouching slightly with arms out, she picked them up; holding them to her chest like a child.

“Oh, Madame, it is you.” Curie’s voice was strangely thick, “May I assist you?”

“Me?! Curie, what’s wrong?!”

“Oh! I do not want to burden you…”

Setting the cat gently on the ground Wraith went to embrace her, “You’ll never, ever be a burden!”

Seeming to melt in her arms, Curie cried bitterly for several minutes. Wraith thought her heart might break and her own eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, crying this much is so very taxing.” Sniffling and hiccupping she motioned to the grass, “May we sit?”

“I’m crying myself, and I don’t even know what about!”

“I… Even if we decided to… I wanted to… But, we cannot!”

A sudden revelation came to Wraith, “You two can’t have kids.”

“Mon ours would have been the greatest father…” Crying anew she bent forward, placing her face in her hands.

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry.”

“There is more… I’m sorry but… Danse isn’t aging… but I… I AM!” Raising her head, she turned to Wraith, eyes filled with deep sadness, “How will I ever tell him? He will have to watch me grow old and die. I will be gone and he will be alone… again alone.”

The realization that Curie was upset, not at her own mortality, but at the thought of Danse’s grief, set a pain in Wraith’s chest. “He’ll have time with you, right?” Reaching out she patted Curie’s back, “You are still young! There are years of memories for the two of you to make. And when you are no longer with us,” Fighting her own emotions, she swallowed hard, “he’ll…”

“Oh! That’s right!” Her face suddenly brightening, Curie clasped Wraith’s face in her hands, “You and Hancock will be with him! He would no doubt take comfort in your love and friendship.” Pulling Wraith’s face to her own, she clunked her forehead affectionately.

“You ladies alright?” Hancock had woken up when Wraith got out of the bed. Worried when she didn’t return, instinct drove him to check Nate’s grave, “Somethin’ happen?”

“Et is well, Monsieur Hancock.” Curie cocked her head to the side, considering the ghoul’s silhouette with the moon as a backdrop, “Have I done a metabolism study with you?”

“That a pick-up line?”

 Wraith did her best to keep occupied while Shaun, MacCready, Dogmeat and Danse were gone on patrol. From Tenpines, the group would head to Starlight Drive-in then on to Abernathy Farm and finally return to Sanctuary. Knowing that her grandson would be beyond her protective reach for several days was bothering her. However, she did take comfort in the strength of the adults (she counted Dogmeat as one such adult) he was with. Joining Sturges’s greenhouse work crew certainly helped as well; working hands helped to still a working mind.

“General, we’ve got a white flag bearer on the road.” Lloyd’s voice crackled from the walkie on Wraith’s hip, “Children of Atom, from the looks of it.”

“It’s not Marie, is it?”

“No ma’am, from the posture and gait, I’d say it’s a middle-aged woman.”

“Good job. Have Gabby meet her at the Rocket. I’m on my way.” Motioning for Hancock to join her, she set a brisk pace to the bridge, “I think it might be Isolde. I’ve been expecting to hear from her, but not in person!” Accepting her coat from a helpful soldier, she stopped to work the various clasps, “I’m thinking she’ll be a more reasonable conversationalists then her daughter...” Catching sight of her face in a window, she stopped again to work on a spot of grease.

“Having to talk to any of these… folks, doesn’t exactly razz my berries…”

It was indeed Isolde. Sitting on a barstool, she stared at the air conditioner with a mixture of fascination and keen distrust.

“Mother Isolde, welcome to Sanctuary. This is an unexpected honor.”

“Forgive me child, for surprising you this way. I was concerned that any attempts to contact or indeed warn you, in any way, would have been thwarted by Marie.”

“Is there a… difficulty concerning your daughter? Some aid I might provide?”

Looking down at the glass of water that Gabby had given her she seemed on the verge of tears, “My daughter’s obsession with you has not waned. She has convinced herself that if she kills you she will have destroyed a false profit.”

Hancock growled deep in his chest, “That’s bullshit! Wraith has never claimed to be this… whatchamacallit, ‘Fog Walkn’ Favored One’. From what I heard that was all that Tektus asshole’s nonsense.”

“I’ll have to respectfully disagree Mayor Hancock. Wraith is indeed the Mother’s Favored One. Although she chooses not to embrace it, your wife is a Blessed Child of Atom and that holds immense religious significance to my people.”

“My… wife...”

Doing her best to ignore Hancock’s confused and sappy smile, Wraith pushed the conversation to the point, “All that aside; we recently came afoul of a chameleon deathclaw. Was that Marie? What else can I expect from her?”

“I truly know very little.” Looking up at Wraith there was a great deal of fear and regret in her eyes, “She began stirring up some of the younger, more fanatical Children and pushing for open war; against you and your Minutemen.” Her gaze returned to her cup and her voice softened, “My Marie, my daughter…”

“Isolde, what has happened?”

“I feared for my people. I knew that you would never want to destroy us but… you would. Utterly.” Standing, she set her cup aside and squared her shoulders, “I have denounced her. I cast her out.”

“I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard…”

Islode held up her hand, “I fear I have made the situation worse. After I exiled her she and her followers traveled to Megaton. It is my belief that they intended to recruit Infamy.”

Hancock sucked air over his teeth and groaned, “Goddam…”

“Who or what is Infamy?” Hancock’s reaction genuinely spooked Wraith.

“Nyx has had some… difficulty with ‘em. They’re Children but they are closer to feral than even I am.”

“They act like a collective; all of them ghouls. Having discarded their names, they are all Infamy. They defer to a glowing one who believes he’s Atom’s personal assassin.”

“You can hire ‘em if you can convince ‘em, that your goal is beneficial to Atom.” The ghoul rolled his eyes, “MacCready has bitched about ‘em too.”

“They are Atom’s ‘Divine Blade’. Very cunning. Very deadly.”

“Not so deadly when it comes to my people.”

Islode shook her head, “Marie somehow blames you for not receiving visions of her own. She blames you for her exile… for the loss of everything she holds dear. She wants you to lose everything the same way she has; then watch as you die in anguish.”

Revelation struck Wraith like a hammer, “If there was a spy… then they knew I’d set long patrols… Shaun, Mac, Danse and Dogmeat…” She practically turned herself inside out to sprint to the Radio Freedom tower…

 “I’m not sure when I noticed… Maybe that one time with the deathclaw… when she broke her ribs, remember?”

“I missed that one. I must have still been at the police station.” Danse’s brow furrowed, “What about her breaking her ribs would have made her alluring?”

“Not cause she got hurt. Just… I don’t know… the fact that she would get hurt for other people’s sake.”

“That I can understand; her selflessness and devotion to others does make her compelling.”

“And her legs and her eyes and…”  

“Mr. MacCready… can we please change the subject…”

Navigating the rocky terrain south of Tenpines, the group had fallen into an easy banter.

“Shaun, buddy, I’ve told you to drop the ‘mister’. Call me ‘Mac’; like Wraith does.”

The youth’s mouth twisted, “No that’s weird…”

“Well kid I have plenty of names… how about ‘MacCready’ like Hancock does?”

Danse chuckled, “I think that might be weird for similar reasons.”

“Okay… what about ‘RJ’?”

Happy to have moved on from the ‘Wraith is a Knockout’ discussion, Shaun readily agreed.

The sniper’s bullet hit Danse and he fell from the ridge.

Dogmeat instantly turned and made a beeline for the assailant.

MacCready’s first thought was for Shaun and he screamed his name, even as he was overrun by a herd of feral ghouls.

A slight movement out of the corner of his eye was all the warning Shaun got before a hooded attacker, wielding an evil looking dagger, hacked at his face. Grabbing his opponent’s right elbow, Shaun pulled forward and raised his own right arm up; tight to theirs. Pivoting to the left and using his back and hip as a fulcrum, he thrust his arm toward the earth, rolling them both to the ground. Keeping his momentum, he put some small distance between them, and then vaulted to his feet while unsheathing his bayonet.

Infamy was impressed.

Shocked to see his foe was a glowing one, Shaun backed away even as eyes kept flicking to the cliff where Danse fell. And to his rifle that lay midway between them.

Infamy noticed.

“That your friend, there? Too bad little boy.” Their voice had an odd, echoing quality that sent shivers down the spine. “That your precious mentor, getting gnawed at by my children? So tragic! What will you do, little boy?” They chuckled low and evil, “I got you, you know? You’re cut. Your blood is flowing, ha ha. Flowing away.”

Ignoring the baiting, Shaun's mind was filled with only one thought:

Danse didn’t cry out when he fell…

Thank you so much for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please check my Wraith in the Ruins tag for the full link tree. As always, if you have any questions/comments/concerns, my ask is open (anon too). I would love to hear from you! =^..^=

[serensama]

The nine times he kissed her and the one time he didn’t.

Okay. So. In a bid to collect all my crap from everywhere- this was my first ever complete Harry Potter fan fiction.... that I published. It is of a rare pair but one that I hold close to my heart.  Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. 

This includes  1) Some profanity 2) Mention of NSFW theme/acts

The young boy scratched absentmindedly at his trouser leg- why did the damned material have to be so itchy- as he glanced around the room. People were in their finery and buzzing excitedly to one another- another Lord’s baby had been born or something or other... Salazar was suddenly very jealous of Godric and his family deciding to holiday in Greece at that moment. At least his friend had the chance to do whatever he wanted (although he knew the boy would most likely take to the skies or try to find dragons- at least he'd have a choice. Salazar rather fancied the idea of staying in and reading or possibly attempting another new spell but he guessed that's why there were friends- they were so undeniably different); he as the heir of the prestigious house of Slytherin was bound by social expectation and the rules of nobility. His father, though fond of the Gryffindors, also expressed a marked disdain for their penchant of dismissing their courtly duties, "Far too lax in their obligations and too indulgent in the whims of their child to truly deserve the standing of their name," he'd say and Salazar would numbly nod along.

Still scratching he felt a sharp nudge at his side and saw his father looking down at him urging him with his sharp glare to stop fidgeting. Remembering himself, he straightened his stance and pulled out the gift his father bade him to give to The Lord and Lady Ravenclaw. It was a long golden chain with a small disc emblazoned with the eagle and the serpent of their respective houses- it was pretty enough he supposed, a fair gift to receive from old family friends. He'd met the couple twice before, the first when his mother was still alive just after his second year. He remembered a handsome couple with dark hair and kind faces- he recalled receiving many sweets that visit. He didn't have the heart to tell them he didn't really like sweets but he accepted them all the same- he gave them all to Godric the next day. The second time he met them was at his mother's funeral last year- Lady Gwyn had foregone the norms and knelt down and gathered him in a bone shattering embrace. He hadn't cried when they told him his mother had died three days before that- but in that instance with a woman's warm arms around him telling him it'd be ok in the end (though he knew that was never going to be the case again), he felt the first undeniable prickle behind his nose and eyes. He waited until he was alone in his room that night to let that prickle turn into harsh stings and muffled sobs.

This third meeting his father had told him was a special one for Lord Oberon had finally sired an heir and it was a time to rejoice. Salazar understood the importance of family lines even at the tender age of five but truth be told he didn't see the need to host a massive ball because a baby was born. Babies were loud, smelly and useless people so why throw them a party? 

Adults were odd creatures. The crowd around them hushed and craned their necks towards the ceiling to catch a glimpse of the new parents and their pride and joy. From the top of the grand staircase he watched them descend, dressed in their deep navy robes they looked every bit the part of the Lord and Lady of the house. His eyes landed on the small bundle in Gwyn's long slender arms, huddled close to her heart was a sleeping mass of pink. Pink blankets, pink skin, pink pudgy fingers curled on the rim of her mother's clothes and a big pink yawning mouth with no teeth. Truly this was a sight worth travelling a day for. A. Great. Pink. Flobberworm. Joy. His thoughts were interrupted by a quick high piercing screech followed by a giggle. Acting much older than his years the young boy huffed and attempted to recall the ingredients to latest potion he was trying to re-create- three slugs approximately one inch long, a pinch of dried unicorn horn, a drop of ... a drop of... this is why I don't like babies!  The Ravenclaws had stopped on the third last step in front of their congregation where Gwyn had given her husband their daughter (for some reason this delighted the child to the point of screeching- stupid useless baby) who was turning to address them all properly.

"My people, my dearest wife and I welcome you to our home and you all have our deepest gratitude for coming here today to meet our first-born child, Rowena-" as if on cue the baby gurgled happily to the joy of the people, her nonsensical mutterings eliciting raucous applause and laughter. Oberon smiled warmly at his court before raising a placating hand to ask for silence, "We are so blessed to have a new life join our name and we humbly ask you all to join in our happiness, for tonight we will drink, wine and be merry in the name of our glorious new child!" As more sounds of approval and joy radiated around the room, all Salazar could think about was how long did he have to wait until he could take off his itchy trousers.

The night progressed as he predicted- much food and drink was served and many a gift were given to the young lady. His father had given the Ravenclaws a few of his most prized volumes from his own library wishing for them "...A bright light in the already luminous sky of Ravenclaw," earning him a hearty handshake from Oberon.

"You are too kind my dear friend Salvatore, we will teach our daughter well with these fine gifts you have so generously given." He watched on as the man patted his father on the back with such a comfortable familiarity it almost seemed that this wasn't a formal occasion. Maybe it wasn't just the Gryffindors who sniffed at noble expectations. After a majority of the guests had bid their farewells his father gestured towards his pockets, "I think maybe now is a good time for you to give your present Salazar," he prompted before pushing his son gently towards the couple who were now cooing over the bassinet beside the main table. Wiping his hand quickly over his trouser leg he retrieved the necklace and abruptly held out his arm at the Ravenclaws. The couple turned to face the young child with a puzzled look on their face not quite understanding why the small boy was standing there with his arm out. It was Gwyn that broke the silence.

"Darling Salazar, what do you have in your hand?"

"A necklace Lady Gwyn," he promptly replied. He could tell that his father had wanted to smack his head against his palm for all the etiquette lessons seemed to have fallen short on this occasion and he was left with a flustered child and not the polished young man he had reared. Five years old or not, he was a Slytherin damn it and Slytherins were never flustered and never out of their depth.

"Is that necklace for me my boy?" she asked crouching down to meet his eye. His mouth quirked in lack of a response- truth was he didn't know who the gift was for. Logically speaking since the ball was in the baby's honour one would think it was for the child not the parents.

"I believe my Lady, that it is for your daughter," he whispered dropping the necklace in Gwyn's open palm. Gwyn and Oberon looked over to his father with a look that could only be described as stunned but genuine appreciation.

"Salvatore- you have given us more than you ever needed to. Your continuing friendship through all these years is all we could ask for but now you spoil our daughter- you have my many thanks my friend," she said as she reached up to give his father a kiss on the cheek. She unfurled her fingers to reveal the disc, the eagle and the serpent catching the light. Gwyn's surprised expression was not lost on the young Slytherin as she turned to face her husband- looking between him and his father.

"Salvatore... is this... are you proposing? -" she began but was halted by Salvatore's hand on her shoulder.

"This Gwyn is nothing but a symbol that binds our two families together. Whether it be through friendship," pausing to walk towards Oberon and clasping his hand within his own, "or through marriage".

Marriage? Whose marriage? Who would marry a baby?

"And should our daughter refute the idea of an arranged marriage Salvatore?" Oberon ventured tentatively, "I could not imagine forcing my daughter to marry someone she did not love if she were against it." Salazar watched as his father's expression flickered ever so briefly to annoyance, so brief in fact that no one but him would have noticed.

"Then we will not deny her the chance to be with one she loves. Let my child and yours be simply entwined by the bonds of camaraderie that we too have shared these many years"

WHAT? Friends with that thing? MARRIED to that thing?

"Then yes, my friend, yes- we accept this token, this symbol of our two houses forever joining together! Whatever the circumstances be in the future," Oberon took Salvatore's hand in both of his and began shaking it with such fervour that the young master believed his father's arm would fly off. Lost in the imagining of flailing, flying limbs and a wedding ceremony with him and a baby he was startled out of his revelry by a gentle hand on his shoulder and the tickle of hair against his cheek. "Why don't you give the necklace to Rowena yourself? It is for her after all," she suggested as she squeezed his hand softly as a mild encouragement and led him towards the other adults and the baby.

His eyes searched his fathers; only finding him staring at him with impatience, the boy swallowed hoping to alleviate the sudden dryness of his throat. Stretching to his full height and extending up to the tips of his toes he peered over the edge of the bassinet, where a frilly pink flobberworm with fingers lay laughing haphazardly at the toys floating in the air her father had bewitched for her. Shuffling slowly to her side he saw her attention shift from the silver rattles and patchwork dolls to him. Big clear sapphire eyes focused solely on him as if he were the only thing that mattered to her, then she let out another wretched squeal and reached for him. Startled by the noise and the readiness of her acceptance he promptly stepped back into the legs of Gwyn Ravenclaw. The older woman chuckled as she straightened the boy up and offered the gold necklace to him.

"Don't worry Salazar, she won't bite- I think she really likes you. Try again my dear."  If that was what she sounds like when she likes me, then I hope she grows up hating me. He drew from his courage again and met the eyes of the Ravenclaw babe, watching at her clap her hands above her at the sight of him then placing a pudgy hand in her mouth (disgusting) waiting for him to do something to entertain her. He held out the necklace in front of her, dangling it as if it were a string to a kitten, until her clumsy little fingers grasped the disc. She fumbled with it, obviously not knowing what to do with a necklace and he was at a loss as to what he should do himself. He pulled on the chain so the disc fell away from the baby's hold to continue playing with her like a cat. That idea burnt away with regret in a matter of moments when big round tears fell down her cheeks at the loss of her new shiny toy. Panicked, the boy dropped the necklace beside her and tried to silence her by covering her mouth gently. He was greeted with a big giggle and a slurping sound as his thumb began to feel wet and warm... and undoubtedly gross. He watched on as the Ravenclaw heir sucked on his thumb.

"Aww look at that- she does like you!"

Yay.

And that was how Salazar Slytherin (kind of) got his first kiss from a girl.

And became sort of engaged.

The next time they met she was four years old and already every bit of the Ravenclaw heir apparent he knew she would be. In other words- an uppity snob. Brilliant, but an uppity snob nonetheless. At four she was already an incredibly bright witch, even he could not rebuff these claims- word around the lands was that she was already showing strong signs of magical ability- just like him when he was around her age. She was apparently a voracious devourer of books favouring them for presents instead of childish trinkets and pretty baubles like so many of her age. She was annoying.

She had the gall to ignore him in his own house by continuing to read in front of him when their parents were talking to each other. He was about to say hello when she held up a finger to him as she finished reading her page. By whatever Gods are listening, know that if I had my wand on me this little wench would be cursed so hard... 

"My my! Salazar look at you, what a handsome young man you are growing into- Rowena, get your head out of that book and say hello properly!" her mother chastised. However instead of listening to her mother she simply outstretched the rest of her hand for him to kiss. Salazar willed his eye to not twitch at the small girl’s insolence and disrespect and was about to voice his opinion out loud when a boisterous laugh made him bite his tongue. Oberon pried the book from his daughter’s tenacious hold and promptly bopped her on the crown of her head with it.

"Don't forget your manners girl- you're making us look like bad parents here!" he continued merrily.

Her hand was still in his face waiting for him to take it. He bit his tongue until it bled. Leaning down, taking her evil little palm in his hand, he placed a quick peck on the back of her hand.

"Welcome to our home Lady Rowena, I wish you a pleasant stay." I hope you get eaten alive by rabid Cornish Pixies.  She blinked, her bright eyes focused on him again, a smile gracing her lips.

"Thank you, Lord Salazar, I apologize for my rudeness before- I'm afraid when I start reading about something interesting I forget everything else exists," she flushed rather prettily he noted. He knew when she grew up she'd be a beauty just like her mother.

"And what may I ask was the subject of your interest?"

"Potions. I was told that you were quite the genius at them and I thought it smart to have something we could talk about- I've only read a few books about them but this particular volume that your father gave me is quite extensive! A brilliant read!"

He couldn't help but let a small smirk appear at the earnest way this little girl spoke. He forgot that this girl was only four. He forgot that the first kiss he gave her tasted like blood and that he was willing to sacrifice her to little flying monsters. He forgot that he was still holding her hand.

Every Summer after that their families had taken turns to visit each other at their homes, letting the children get to know each other and let their relationship flourish. By the time she was 12 she looked to Salazar as the big brother she never had. Her rejoicing in the magical discoveries he made, the exciting stories he had of duelling with other wizards and the fun he had with his best friend Godric, who she had still to meet after all these years. He looked to her as a precious jewel that needed to be safeguarded, a rare and exquisite entity that needed to be cultivated and moulded to be all that she could be. A dear friend in a world where he had close to none. Though she was young she held his attention better than any woman of his age or older- most too blithe to realise that he wasn't like most men. He didn't flatter easily or get swayed by looks or flashes of skin or promises of the flesh (though those were tempting... he was 17) and the fact that he was utterly sated for female companionship by a 12-year-old never seemed disturbing to him. That was until she asked him one question.

"Laz..." she stared at the top button of his jacket collar. Watching it with a rapt fascination as if it had sprouted a head and started serenading her. "Can I... can I ask you for a favour?" This had his attention. Usually the little chit came out and said or asked whatever she wanted. It was part of her charm. She didn't mince words or say things she didn't mean- she was a breath of fresh air amongst all the stale, fake people he was forced to endure due to his position. He continued to switch his gaze between her and the clouds above them, the wind lazily moving them along in the sky. "Laz..." she repeated as she pulled at the blades of grass and yanked them forcefully out of the ground.

"What is it Little Ravenclaw? Out with it- usually you've managed to sway me to your side by now- what has your tongue in a twist hmm? And why the sudden hatred towards the grass?"

Her hands stilled immediately. Sitting up with his hands splayed against the cool grass beneath him, elbows bent to bear his weight, his eyes focused on her face. She was blushing again, something that always suited her. He wondered, should he ever blush would it suit him half as much as it did her? Of course not. You'd look like an idiot with rouge on, then Godric would point and laugh and transfigure all the statues and paintings in the castle to blush whenever he was around. That bastard.

"I... Alright but you can't laugh- you need to promise. You need to promise that you'll help me too; there's no one else who can," she bit her lower lip a worried glint glazing over her eyes. His heart began to race. What could be wrong? So wrong that not even her parents could help her out of it?

"Of course, Ro- you know I will."

Without any warning the little girl wrapped her arms around his neck to draw him into a fierce hug. Never one to easily respond to personal contact he softly patted her on the back to reassure her. "Now what is it that I need to help you with?"

She pulled back and set her hands in her lap and looked him straight in the eye a small smile on her face.

"I need your help to teach me how to kiss a boy"

WHAT?

" I said I need your help to teach me to kiss a boy"

Oh, I said that out loud did I?

His mind was reeling. Kiss a boy? That was the problem?! He thought that maybe she was being blackmailed or someone was threatening or bullying her or god forbid she grew some hideous third ear on the back of her neck that only one of his potions could cure... but a kiss? To a boy?!

"You're a Lady, Rowena. You have certain obligations you need to fulfil- you aren't allowed to go running about kissing random boys whenever you want. What will people think?" he attempted to sway her from this whole kissing idea. Seriously, she was a child! Said child huffed in annoyance and balled her fists and pounded them back down onto her lap to emphasize her point.

"I don't care what anyone else thinks Laz! I love him! He understands me, loves books as much as I do, makes me laugh and he wants to be with me forever!" she protested, her eyebrows furrowing together. Salazar fought the need to laugh at his friends vehement protestation. Love- at 12? Suuuuurre.

"Who is this boy Ro? How do you know he isn't interested in your vast fortune or your family's power? Trying to marry into a Pureblooded family such as yours-"

"He doesn't care about any of that Laz! He's just as "pure" as you or I and while not as blessed in coin as me, he certainly isn't a pauper."

"Fine. So, who is he?" he tentatively asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. He didn't need her to know that he would find the little shit and make him swear to stay away from the Ravenclaw heir, or else beware the wrath of the Slytherin heir.

"Why would I tell you that? So you can find him and hex the life out of him? I don't think so!"- Damn smart Ravenclaw brat. "Please Laz, just this once and I promise I'll never ask you for anything ever again!" her big eyes opening so wide he could see the whites around her irises. He yielded. He always did. He pulled on the grass that tickled his fingers and decided that he hated them now too- just as Rowena did before.

"Fine. Just this once and don't let your parents find out about this or this mystery boy of yours."

He sat all the way up and faced her, her eyes fixated on him and his movements, her blush now creeping down her neck ever so faintly. He had kissed a few girls before this, and most much less innocently than how he planned to kiss Rowena, but for some reason his heart had never trembled as it did then.

"Close your eyes Ro," he whispered as he waited for her to do as he instructed. "Just this once, right?" he leaned further in, so close he could smell the soap on her skin and the mint leaves on her breath that she must have chewed on before leaving the house that morning.

"Right..." she breathed as he closed the distance between them and allowed a small press of their lips.

"OW!" Rowena jumped back startled, rubbing her arm furiously to numb the pain. "Nobody told me that kissing hurt! Why do people do this?!"

"Ro- I thought you knew! That's why only people who truly love each other do it- to tell the other person that they'd do anything for them. It's something important and shouldn't be done with just anyone," he ranted, watching her closely as she processed what he said to her. Biting her lower lip again, slowing the movements of her hand against her arm she nodded her understanding.

"I see. I think… I think I understand. Thank you so much for teaching me Laz. I really, really appreciate it- I... I think I'll head back home for today. I need to think, thanks," she lifted up her skirts and headed back to the direction of the castle.

He thanked whatever Gods were watching that she never noticed him take out his wand to zap her.

The next Summer she visited him in his castle she rushed up to him and threw herself on him in a giant hug; wrapping her arms and legs about him like the giant squid Godric described to him after seeing it during one of his family holidays. While Rowena's parents had laughed at their little girl’s antics, Salazar knew his father would see this as a sign towards marriage between the two families.

"Oh Laz! Thanks for everything! I understand everything you told me last Summer, about kissing between people who truly love each other- between me and Edward- it didn't hurt at all. It must mean that we're meant to be! Thank you so much! Now the Potter's are in talks with my parents for a favourable time for us to be wed! Thank you so, so much!" she squealed before she pecked him on the cheek.

He could have sworn that she had taken her wand and stabbed him in the chest. Rowena Ravenclaw, pink flobberworm, uppity snob, innocent child and heartbreaker- had unknowingly broken up with him.

It would be another four Summers until Salazar would see Rowena again. She had stopped the trips back and forth to their homes, almost all but stopped the correspondence that they once shared. Their daily letters trickling down to a letter once a week, to once a month to one every few months. Not that he minded, he was a busy man, he had a life to attend to as well. His father's health was ailing due to a mysterious illness going around and he had taken up most of the duties of the house and his surrounding lands. It didn't mean however, that he had forgotten about the young bright eyed witch that hugged him so fiercely that one time and all those amazing memories they had shared before that. It didn't mean that he hadn’t read and re-read those intermittent letters and committed them to memory. He could recall every word and every pen stroke. Drank in those words as if they were the only sustenance he had. Drawing out each one to make sure it lasted him long enough until the next one arrived. Even if most of the letters were about that damned Edward Potter- Edward Potter- what kind of name is that anyway? Probably suits him, bland, boring bookish Edward Potter- he still loved to read what she was doing, her thoughts on various subjects and just anything she deemed him worthy to know. He just wanted to hear about her.

It had been three months ago when she wrote to him saying that Edward, though lovely, had found someone else he loved more. She tried her best to sound cheerful and strong in the letter, but he could see the tear stains on the paper where the ink had flowered across the page.

 "… I'm so happy for him Laz, truly I am. If he has found that one person that could make him feel like how he made me feel then who am I stop him? I wish him a thousand joyful blessings and a long prosperous life." 

Salazar’s mouth twisted into a wan smile as he felt the bile rise up and bubble in his throat. You wish him a long prosperous life? Well then, I do too. I wish him a long life filled with pain, suffering and severe genital itching that will never go away. I hope that he has hideous squib children with his hideous wife. I pray that... I pray that he knows that every day without you in his life is a day thoroughly wasted. He had wanted to rush to her side but unfortunately his useless friend Godric had told him to stay put. To let her just breathe, that he could go to her in a month or so when she had the time to let go of any pain that she was hiding. Of course, he was right, Rowena was a proud woman- she would have never let him see how much she was hurting over a stupid boy. Even if he was her fiancé. So, he let it ride, he let a month turn into two, two into three and during those months the letters became more regular- more cheerful and more of her than it had been for years. It was exhilarating.

"Laz. They're dead. They just... died. The village was attacked by some crazed dragons and they went out to protect everyone... they… They're gone. I'm...It's just me Laz. It's just me here and they're gone and I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to do this." He had barely said goodbye to his father, just dropped the letter in his hands- possibly said something about bringing her back, before Apparating to the gates in front of her parents- now her- castle. Disarming the wards that prevented him from entering he glided through every hall with a practiced precision of someone who had spent almost every Summer there, until he found her sitting at the end of her bed just staring at a patch on the rug in front of her. She didn't bother to look up at him.

"Did you want some tea?" she asked gesturing towards the teapot on her dresser. He didn't need to touch it to know it had been cold for hours, possibly days. He had a feeling that as much as her house elves loved Rowena, they hadn't a clue how to approach her or defy all the barriers she had erected to keep everyone out.

"No thank you Ro- did you... did you... what can I do? What do you need me to do?" she looked up at him, her blue eyes stained with unshed tears, her face streaked with dried ones. Her eyes were red and raw from her rubbing at them and the bags under her eyes tinged with purple from lack of sleep. He was at a complete and utter loss. As much as he treasured his father he couldn't say that his impending death would affect him like this. That the loss of him would turn him into the person Rowena was in front of him. But he could empathize- he could pretend for her, pretend to understand so he could help her through this.

"There's... Nothing you can do Laz. It's done. They're gone and now I'm all alone. I don't have anyone anymore... " she sobbed, her tears teetering over the rims of her eyes, so close to falling... He didn't even realise he was holding her to him, crushing her, making sure that she was still there with him.

"Don't even finish that thought. Never think of that again,” he implored as he grabbed her hand and rested it against his chest, “you feel that? My heartbeat? Hear my voice? I'm here. I'm still here."

And with that he let her fall apart.

He recalled the distant cries of a three year old boy crying for the loss of his mother and realised maybe he did understand how she felt. Maybe he did know what she needed. Brushing her long ebony strands back he pressed his lips against her forehead before resting his chin atop her crown.

"Maybe... maybe we can figure out how to do this together."

"Laz I am not a child anymore you needn't follow me everywhere I go!" she snarled furiously at him as she tore off her travelling cloak and threw it to the ground. He calmly took his off and placed it on top of an armchair and sat on its arm. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her dramatic behaviour.

"Oh really?" he asked as she kicked off her shoes and stomped behind her changing screen. "You were in a Mudblood town filled with dirty no-good farm folk who wouldn't know what a book looked like if it came up to them and slapped them in the face-"

"DON'T YOU DARE USE THAT WORD! They were Muggles and Muggleborn! And they were not dirty they were perfectly clean! Yes, they were farmers but everyone has to do something- who else will grow the food we eat?!" he could hear her straining out of her clothes as she yelled at him. Usually she summoned one of the elves to help her with dressing but in her anger, she must have forgotten. Her light green dress was thrown over the screen. He did love her in green, she looked radiant in it.

"Fine... Muggle born then," he drawled as he rolled his eyes at the screen. "But I wasn't referring to their personal hygiene- which was lacking no matter what you say- but their intentions towards you. You'd think that they've never seen a woman before the way they leered at you," he practically spat at the thought of what they were thinking. He was not a fool nor was he as naive as his young friend. She was an uncommonly beautiful woman; thick long jet black hair, sparkling gemstone eyes, a fuller upper lip with a smaller bottom lip which she often pulled at when thinking and a perfect milky complexion that looked so smooth to touch. She was porcelain, you needed to be careful with porcelain, not gruff or uncouth... like a farmer would be with her.

"Men are men Salazar- ugly or beautiful, dumb or smart- most men will fall to the graces of a woman. Should they find me beguiling all the better to deal with them, let them fall for my looks while I bargain for better prices to feed my people," she professed passionately. A sharp shudder tore through Salazar’s body- the idea of men fawning over her, the mere thought of her allowing them to touch even just the hem of her sleeve to get a better deal on produce made his blood boil for unknown reasons. This was why he moved up here in the first place, his father seemed to be getting better and seemed to wish to live forever so he left the old man to his devices in order to 'take care' of her. He took it upon himself to deal with the townsfolk himself, to barter and trade accordingly so that Rowena didn't have to amidst her grief. And for the next year it continued that way, until today, when she decided that she would have her turn at it.

"You sound like a common harlot talking like that- like a cheap woman to be used in order to get your way."

He heard a commotion behind the screen and before he knew it, she was out in a flash, charging at him at full speed with her arm extended to hit him. He managed to catch her wrist easily, that alone shocking her enough to still her. She was breathing heavily, her eyes filled with anger at being called such a terrible name. Her chest was rising up and down steadily as she tried to calm herself. It was only then did he notice that she was in her undergarments. A simple a white cotton bodice and a thin slip that fell past her knees- that was all that separated her from him. Oh, such a treacherous body you Gods gave to us men- so quickly riled up.

"I am not a harlot Salazar," she bit out his name like a curse, only ever saying his full name in anger. Watching that delicious pink tint crawl up her cheeks, even in anger, made his heart speed up even more. He was trying his hardest to keep his eyes at the level of her throat, his breathing starting to keep pace with hers. He could feel the thrum of her pulse in her wrist quicken, he knew that she knew what he was thinking, when he finally managed to pry his eyes off her delicate neck and able to look into her eyes he was already drawing her wrist to his lips. Ever so slowly he watched as her eyes widened as he let his lips touch the sensitive underside of wristz on her pulse. Brazenly he let just the tip of his tongue brush against her skin to taste her. Her soap, the fragrant oils that had rubbed off throughout the day... the salt of her sweat during their argument- it was all there and he wanted more. He could almost hear her heart pound right out of her chest.

"I apologise My Little Ravenclaw," he said, content to watch the blush that seemed to cover her neck and her upper chest now, her body quickly heating up. With arousal or embarrassment, he didn't really care- it was too endearing to bother.

SLAP! ...(ow)

"Apology accepted Salazar Slytherin."

He had forgotten about her other hand.

It had taken three years until the castle was ready, the school was nearly done and the students would be arriving in a few weeks and their dream was about to be realised. He knew that he was bound for amazing things just like he knew Godric and Rowena were too. Helga... well... she was pleasant enough and surely, she was skilled with plants which could only help with his potion making... maybe they just needed another woman to even everything out. It had been three years since he had last even dreamed of entertaining the thoughts of Rowena in anyway other than a dear friend. A dear, dear attractive friend he wanted for himself. But he pushed those thoughts out for the sake of their friendship, she was 21 and an adult and had never shown any interest in pursuing him apart from their current relationship.

He heard heeled footsteps rushing down the hallways to his dungeons and knew before the door opened that it would be his Rowena. She doesn't need to know I call her that...

"Laz, come quickly!" he looked up at her alarmed. Had Helga set the main hall on fire?... again?

"What is it Ro? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing! It's just finished! I finished it!" she ran from the door and grabbed his hand and the next moment he found himself in a room filled with navy blue and bronze. Her family colours. A beautiful luxurious room with expensive chairs and tapestries and wall to wall shelves filled to the brim with books and scrolls- her common room screamed, I am Rowena Ravenclaw, you are now a part of my family, a part of me. The surge of emotion he had at the sight of her achievement was palpable, such pride he rarely held for anyone other than himself... he felt double that for her.

"It's…"

"Oh, I know it's not much but I didn't want to blow the budget on things that might not be needed...I thought that maybe I would see how everything goes in the first term and add or subtract the things in the common room as needed," she grinned excitedly spinning in a circle to admire her work

"Always pragmatic aren't you Ro... It's not more, nor is it less than what it should be- it is perfect," he praised as he let one of his rare smiles flash at her. "You're perfect Rowena". She laughed, she laughed, and slapped him lightly on the arm.

"Always the charmer Laz... " she guffawed but stopped laughing when she saw the intensity in his eyes. He wasn't trying to be charming. He was just... being Laz. He stepped closer to her and put his hands about her waist and looked deep into her eyes, searching for any sign to not say what he had wanted to say to her since she was 17... maybe even before that...

"You're perfect Ro," he only repeated the words he had said before but the way he said it... Oh the way he said it made her knees weak. It made her usually sharp mind turn to jelly and suddenly she could barely remember to breathe let alone talk. Salazar was not the only one to dwell on what happened three years ago in her chambers, she still dreamt about the feel of his lips on her skin- the way the look in his eyes had ignited something deep down in her belly that she had never once felt before. However, he hadn't done anything since- not once tried to touch her inappropriately, he hadn't even tried to go into her chambers again since then so she rationalised that it was due to his anger that he acted out of character. Oh how she hoped he would get angry again... but he never did. At least not the in the same way he did that day.

So, she let it go. After all he was 26, eligible, intelligent and gorgeous with an inheritance and bloodline so desirable that she had no right to even think of him that way. So, she didn't think of him... a lot. At least she tried not to think of him. Which meant she thought about him all the time to the point of madness. And now... with him telling her she was perfect and being so close to her and damn he smelled so good, she was at a loss. She was out of her depth and they both knew it so she let him swim for the both of them.

He let his thumbs rub against the velvet fabric of her dress as he watched her lick her lips instinctively. He fought back a moan at the sight of her pink tongue dart in and out of her mouth- he'd been with women before who'd done amazing acrobatic things and not once did he get as excited at just seeing something as unseemly as a tongue. His eyes quickly looked back into hers as if to ask for permission- seeing no sign of fear or rejection he let his nose lightly touch hers- nuzzling her ever so slightly. Dipping his mouth to hers he let his lips brush over hers, ghosting reverently over them as if they'd break. Finally his mouth took hers, their lips softly locking together- why did we wait so long for this?- moving his head to reach her mouth better he opened his mouth to allow his tongue to lick at the bottom tip of her Cupid's bow vying for entrance; he knew that this particular area was said to hold a nerve leading straight to her core. He may have been correct with the moan she offered in payment for his skillful ministrations as she opened her mouth to give him better access.

Finally.

Months had passed in a blink of an eye. The students were settling in well and the four professors were also settling in their positions and teaching style. It had been hectic at the start but with the four of them working together seamlessly everything seemed to flow organically- it really was, for a lack of a better word, magic. The Christmas season had come upon them sooner than they expected and while they allowed the students to stay should the need to, all of them had opted to go back home. Even Helga and Godric had left (Godric begging them both to come along to spend Christmas with his family- they had promptly said no) leaving the two of them all alone in Hogwarts except for the house elves... and they barely counted.

Rowena and Salazar walked through the third floor of the castle just... being. They rarely held hands- they didn't need to in order to feel close to each other. Salazar however let his hand catch hers mid-step, his dark eyes observing her carefully, pleased with the slight upturn of her mouth at the contact. He stopped walking still holding her hand forcing her to stop with him- when she turned around to ask if anything was the matter, he was already kissing her. Kissing wasn't the right term... maybe devouring her whole? Her entire body was on fire and she tried to reciprocate as much as possible with her mind as cloudy as it was... for all she knew she was dreaming right now... if it were not for the cold, hard wall that she was just slammed against. Salazar had pressed his entire body against hers, feeling her soft curves meld against his harder form only drove his desire further as his fingers ran over her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone- anything where his fingertips could feel her warm skin. Spurred on by her soft gasps and mewls and those damned perfect fingers threaded through his hair, he pushed one of her thighs aside and settled in between her spread legs. She broke contact when she realised the extent of his want of her- she couldn't deny it- she could feel it for goodness sake... and she'd be lying if she said it didn't excite her.  Salazar was right... I AM a harlot.

"No, you're not..."

"Not what Salazar?" she asked, confused from not only being thoroughly kissed but from the ambiguity of his random comment.

'You're not a harlot," he replied kissing down her neck. In the back of her mind she knew that she didn't say that out loud- she knew he was dabbling in new magic- whether that meant he could read her mind or not, she didn't care at that moment. If he could just help her with this pulling in her belly, whatever was this feeling anyway, this pooling of desire where she and he met at their hips... she was certain she was going to hell with these wanton thoughts.

"Rowena..." he rasped, using her full name so she was sure to listen, "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do," she replied automatically. She didn't even have to think- of course she trusted him, that was never a question. Salazar looked at her scrupulously before nodding to himself and continued to kiss her. His hands roamed down her body hiking the edges of her skirt up to her waist, glad to know that she still only wore the slip under her dress.

"Say it again Rowena- say that you trust me," he begged as he dropped his forehead to her shoulder. She didn't know exactly he was asking from her, what words she could say to make him understand that she did. What words would give him the permission he was asking for. She let her hands find his face, caressing his skin and grazing over the stubble that was growing back. Her fingers linked under his jaw so that they were eye to eye again.

"Salazar. I trust you with my life- is that not enough?" she questioned before his shoulders began to shudder. Tremors racking through his body- he was… laughing. Rowena felt him laugh, actually laugh with joy, against her lips as he took over her again. Lips, tongues, teeth and hands everywhere until somehow Salazar was on his knees, his cheek resting against her womb. She ran her fingers through his hair trying to calm both of their frazzled senses. Their ragged breaths filling the corridor as they stayed there.

"Rowena... I'm going to kiss you... " he warned, his voice low and dripping with sin.

This time, she let out a laugh.

"So, what was it that you were just doing to me before?" she joked as felt him shake his head against her.

"No, no- Rowena... You misunderstand me. I wasn't going to kiss your mouth."

Before Rowena could even ask what that meant his head had dipped even lower and disappear under her slip… and she saw stars. Who knew that Salazar could give her more than one first kiss?

They were fighting again. It must have been the third time that week. She didn't even know what it was about this time- it couldn't have been the Muggle born issue again, they'd already fought about that earlier albeit briefly. No, tensions were rising for a completely different reason and she didn't know what it was. The once "best of the best" best friends were growing further apart by the day and there was nothing either Helga or she could do to patch them up. As the two women sat down for tea and biscuits they heard a loud crash outside. Running as quickly as they could they found the two men duelling fiercely against each other and this was no practice duel. They were both bleeding and bruised. Rowena found her feet knew what to do before she did and she was running in amongst the thrown curses and in front of Salazar; the man in question so focused against his opponent he didn't even notice his lover screaming his name in front of him. She forced his face to look down at her, to look into her eyes. He stilled almost immediately- reading her mind she knew, but she didn't care. Let him feel her fear, her concern for him. Let him stop this crazed behaviour.

"You're right Ro, you're always right," he whispered as he dropped his wand. She heard Helga usher in Godric and as she turned she saw him look at her, really look at her and for the first time in since their introduction, she saw how the Gryffindor saw her. He wanted her just like Salazar did, and suddenly the animosity between friends was more understandable- ridiculous- but understandable.

"Tch," Salazar spat at the sight of his friend's retreating back, "if you could hear the things he thinks about you- the thoughts and dreams he sees with you in them..."

"But that's all they are Laz... thoughts, dreams... you have memories, reality- you will always have me," she declared, bringing his face down to meet her lips to show to him what words couldn't, but as much love and passion she felt from that kiss she could also taste jealousy and bitterness begin to seep in. And she was scared. Scared of what he could do, would do to Godric, scared about how deeply this anger existed within him; scared for the future of their school and more so scared for their future... she could see it almost slipping away

They both know he could see that in her mind.

They both remained silent.

"Why now then?" she asked as he was about to step out of the Hogwarts entrance. She knew it was coming, had felt it for a while now. She was never one to read tea leaves or look into crystal balls- but when one dreams of your lover walking out of your life every night for three months one tended to see that as an ominous warning. He still hadn't turned around to face her- still refused to look her in the eye. In all the arguments Salazar and Godric had she never believed when the latter had called the former a coward... right now she was inclined to agree with her fiery friend.

"It was time Rowena. I was no longer required or wanted here."

"That's a load of shit Salazar and you know it."

"Cursing never did become you Rowena," he laughed mirthlessly. "Go back inside Rowena. You are still needed. You are still wanted," he ground out the last word with enough venom to kill.

"Do you no longer want me? Do you no longer need me? Are you running away from everyone who ever cared about you merely because of your jealously or your stubborn views about the Wizarding future?" she started to scream into the cold night air. He finally faced her, his face hard and guarded but his mask could not reach his eyes. His eyes normally as still as the sea with on a calm day, now as turbulent as the greatest of tempests.

"There has never been a day for the last thirty years where I have not wanted you. There will never be a day where I will not want you- but there are things even stronger than want Ro. As much as I want to stay- I need to leave for the good of everyone here," he admitted as he started to turn around again to make his way off the school grounds forever.

"Not everyone will be better with you gone-"

"You and the others will be more than fine on your own- as loath as I to admit it- you are all powerful magical beings in your own right. You never needed my help to make Hogwarts a success, you just let me join the adventure for a while."

"And the children what of them?" she yelped, grasping onto her final straws to make him stay. She saw him shake his head listlessly.

"They too will be better off without me. Seeing their Professors at odds all the time cannot be productive for them. Having them duelling in the corridors because they see their Heads of House doing the same thing- does not fit my cause. I seek to maintain the purity and sanctity of our magic, our heritage with our Pureblooded children. Watching them maim each other serves directly against it all. Better they live in ignorant peace than die fighting in a war they don't really care about."

She willed her feet to move but they wouldn't. She couldn't bring herself to go to him, her pride would not allow her to.

"Won't you stay? Please... for us?" she tried again hoping he would understand her meaning.

"Rowena... you have the others-"

"Not them Laz. Us," she pressed on her slightly rounded stomach. The man actually had the decency to stop and turn again to make sure he understood the gravity of the situation. He looked so utterly confused, lost and torn- she almost felt sorry for him.

"That's why I haven't been able to read you properly- there's been someone else with you... I... I didn't know."

"I didn't want you to know. Not until I knew if you were going to stay or not. However, seeing as there's no talking sense into you maybe I could appeal to your emotions; as underhanded as that may be, I'm willing to play the part if it means you'll stay," she would not cry she would not cry she would not cry. 

"I... I want to stay Rowena. I want you and the child more than you will ever know- but can you stay with me knowing the way I feel about the school? How I feel about the future? How I want to raise our child?" he was met with silence. "That's what I thought. Besides, I want you taken care of Rowena. I want you safe- I always have. There is no safer place than Hogwarts, I made sure of that. Keep our child within these walls," he implored.

"She needs a father Laz. A father could keep her safer than any walls," she cursed herself as her bottom lip trembled beyond her control and she felt the restraint on her tears give way. One tear. Two. Five. Eleven. She heard him sigh, a heavy sound that sounded like a he was trying to express every deep regret he ever had.

"Godric always wanted children you know-"

"Godric is not her father!" she countered, almost hysterical.

"I know. But he'll love her just like he is."

Rowena felt the back of his hand brush away her tears, his thumb following each new tear down her cheek and wiping them away up along her jaw. His fingers traced the outline of her lips over and over, so softly it felt like he was trying to memorise the feel of them to last him a lifetime. She could feel his breath upon her mouth and the warmth of his skin, his lips tickling the side of her mouth as he spoke.

"Did I ever tell you what that necklace you wear means?” he questioned, his fingers tracing the finely made disc on her décolletage. “It was to be a symbol of the bonding of our two houses, our parents had hoped that one day we would marry- but if we didn't it would be alright because our two houses would always be one... always be entwined. If you… if you ever see it fit… please give our child the necklace. I do not deserve it, but I hope that even the smallest part of me will be able to stay with her even if I could not." ... then there was nothing. She was suddenly frozen to her core. He had stepped outside the gates, two mere steps away from her but felt like he was unreachable to her now.

"Live well My Little Ravenclaw, My Rowena."

And with that he was gone. Just gone. She knew she'd never see him again. Never receive a letter telling her of how he managed to create a new potion. Never hold him again. Never hear his laughter again. Never kiss him again. She was glad that the bastard hadn't kissed her goodbye, otherwise she'd never be able to stop thinking about him. Never able to get angry at him for leaving her, them. Never able to move on.

She should have learnt her lesson. She had been warned a long time ago that kissing only led to pain. She was just too stubborn to listen.

[nocteverbascio]

the ways we meet: kara/lucy + symbols

Pairing: Kara Danvers/Lucy Lane Summary: Lucy Lane has the same symbol as her big sister Lois and she’s been avoiding the topic for 6 years. A/N: so when people turn 18 in this, a symbol that represents their soulmate shows up somewhere on their body

ao3 link

The day Superman appeared, the world changed. More importantly her sister Lois’s world changed because there was a veil that had been lifted. The existence of Superman had given her clarity as to what that S marked on her shoulder meant.

The problem was that her father had hated Superman and it lead to years of tense family dinners and heated arguments. Lois never brought Superman home and eventually she stopped coming home.

It was the reason when Lucy’s mark appeared when she turned 18 that she lied to her father. And her sister.

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

“Superman doesn’t have any family members does he?”

There's a clatter on the other end of the line. “Uhm, no? Not that I know of, why?” Lois is lying.

“No reason,” Lucy answers. She can hear the questioning ready to come from her sister. “Look, I’ve got basic training soon, I’ll write you?”

“Sure thing, sis. Happy Birthday!”

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

Lucy is in the middle of Afghanistan when she gets a letter from Lois dated almost two months prior with a newspaper clipping.

SUPERFRIEND?

Underneath the headline is a grainy picture of Superman flying with another smaller figure right along with him, arm outstretched towards the sky.

She exhales a breath she doesn't know she's holding.

I guess we were both wrong. Are you still curious about Superman? - Lois

Lucy doesn't write back.

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

When she gets promoted to Major, it’s the first time her whole family has shared a space in 4 years.

Her father gives her a stiff hug and kiss on her head. “Congratulations, sweetheart,” he adds stiffly.

Her mother gives her a big hug and kisses her on her cheeks. “Look who is here.”

Lois smiles proudly at her and Lucy throws her arms around her sister’s waist. “It’s so good to see you!”

“I had a few vacation days,” Lois says as she squeezes her little sister. “You looked good up there.”

“I’m surprised Superman isn’t here,” her father notes.

The happy reunion is short lived but they make it through dinner before Lois leaves.

“Come visit Metropolis, there is someone you should meet.” Lois says it so nonchalantly but the look on her face speaks volumes.

Lucy raises an eyebrow because there’s no way that Lois could know the mark on above her heart is the same S she has. They haven’t talked about it in 6 years.

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

Later that year, they’re ready to ship her out from Metropolis and Lucy decides to make a stop at the Daily Planet. No one questions her in her battle dress uniform when she asks where Lois is.

She sees cubicle with a simple Lois Lane nameplate and a polaroid of her in her uniform pinned next to the computer. Her sister is nowhere to be seen.

Just as she turns to look around, someone tall barrels into her almost knocking her over. There’s a flurry of papers and apologies as the person drops to the ground to pick everything up.

Lucy bends down to help the girl.

“Gee whiz, usually I'm not so clumsy,” she goes on.

Lucy stares at the girl curiously. The girl with a sweet voice and gorgeously wavy blonde hair. When she looks up, Lucy sees her bright blue eyes underneath her thick rimmed glasses. She stares at Lucy like she’s the morning sun. The light bounces off the lens funny but Lucy doesn't notice because she’s busy staring back.

There’s a light laugh that breaks her concentration and Lucy quickly hands back the papers, “Here you go.” She stands up quickly, not without offering a hand to the other girl.

“Thank you,” she says as she pushes her glasses up shyly. “I’m sorry about that. I’m Kara, you must be Lucy.” She holds out her hand.

Lucy shakes her hand, uncharacteristically loosely because she instinctively becomes weary to touch the girl. “Nice to meet you?”

“Oh sorry! I shouldn't have assumed but I saw the uniform and your name last name is Lane,” Kara rambles quickly. “And Lois talks about you all the time. Not in a bad way, in a respectful, ‘I'm proud of my baby sister’ kind of way. You are so cool from what she’s told me, no doubt. You’re one of the youngest majors in your battalion. Not that I am asking after you or anything in a creepy stalker way.”

Lucy cracks a smile at Kara’s adorable awkward rambling. “Thanks I guess?”

“Oh! And now I totally realize that you must be looking for Lois! She’s just meeting with Mr. White right now about an assignment. Shouldn’t be too long. Can I get you something? Coffee or water?”

Kara has such high energy and enthusiasm that Lucy doesn't realize she’s been smiling the whole time. “I'm pretty sure that getting coffee isn't part of your job description, but I appreciate it.”

“It’s fine! I’m Lois’ intern, so it definitely is part of my job description,” Kara informs proudly.

“Lucy?” Lois calls out in surprise as she walks down the row of cubicles to the two of them. “I didn't know you were coming!” She pulls her into a warm hug.

“I’m shipping out tonight, I thought we could have lunch,” Lucy says glancing at Kara who was flanked by a taller man with broad shoulders and almost matching glasses.

Lois pulls back. “Of course!” She turns to Kara. “Oh, this is Kara, my intern.”

“We’ve met!” Kara beams, staring at Lucy. Lucy smiles in return.

“She’s very enthusiastic,” Lucy says to her sister, earning a blush from the intern.

Lois nods in agreement, “I don’t know where the energy comes from.” She turns to the man standing next to Kara. “This is Clark, Lucy.”

Clark has an award winning smiling as he holds out his hand for Lucy. “Lois talks about you all the time.”

Lucy tilts her head up, just observing him. His strong jaw. Bright eyes. Perfectly coiffed hair. Underneath those glasses, Lucy knows exactly who he is. “Nice to finally meet you,” she reaches for his hand and grips it tightly.

Clark lets out a nervous laugh as he returns the handshake, hand hard as steel to confirm her suspicions. Lucy thought she’d be more anxious or feel something upon meeting the man that shared the mark on her chest. But no, the way Lois looks at him and he returns her look, it’s clear they were soulmates.

Lois ushers Lucy from Clark quickly, squeezing his arm goodbye before giving Kara some quick assignments.

Unconsciously, she glances back at Kara, who averts her eyes with a bite of her lip. Her heart races.

“So, what’d you think of Kara?” Lois says, annoyingly perceptive.

Lucy shakes her head. “She’s a kid, don't be weird.”

“She’s 18, which I admit is a bit young, but I can see how you two were looking at each other.”

“So?”

“Reminds me of the first time I met Superman.”

Lucy stares at her sister in confusion. If anyone was staring awestruck, it was more Kara than her. And Lucy is definitely not Superman.

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

Lucy is halfway through her tour when she gets a phone call from her father.

“Find Lois and get her the hell out of here!” His voice is shaky, underneath that anger, Lucy can hear his worry.

There’s a message informing her that two reporters and a photographer were spotted headed to a village 2 hours away.

Lucy leads her team into a small village where the gangs have teamed up with terrorists supplying them with weapons. They’d been investigating them for weeks, trying to find out where the weapons were coming from. Now she has to lead her men to save her sister.

Lucy finds Lois in the basement of a small stone house. She lets the rifle hang off her shoulder as she pulls the bag off her sister’s head.

“Lucy!” Lois yells with relief. Her eyes are misty with tears but Lucy knows her sister too tough to cry. “Jimmy and Kara!”

Lucy tries to remain calm but hearing that Kara was supposed to be there, sends her heart into a frenzy. “You brought a kid into a war zone??”

“She’s not--”

“Major Lane, we need to get out of here!” One of her men yells from the doorway.

There’s a burst of bullets and screams before a body of one of her men comes falling down the stairs. Lucy curses before shoving a pistol into her sister’s hand and moving in front of her. She looks around for an exit but the only one is being blocked by another wave of enemies.

There’s a frantic yell in Arabic and flurry of a bullets. There’s an explosion that shakes the building. For a brief moment, the yelling and tatting of bullets stop.

No one comes downstairs.

Lucy looks back at Lois, who is surprisingly calm. And she readies her gun as they make their way upstairs.

“Lois??” a familiar voice calls out.

Lucy blinks at the bright sunlight spilling through the doorway, surrounding a silhouette that she’s only seen in pictures. This one is far different.

The billowing cape in the wind, the dips of the S emblazoned across the chest are the same but the golden mane floating in the wind and slim, dipping hips of a woman has Lucy’s jaw dropped.

Because it’s definitely not Superman.

“Supergirl!” Lois yells as she rushes to the blonde. “Where’s Jimmy?”

“He’s safe,” Supergirl says before hugging Lois tightly. “I thought I was too late. Next time, no being a martyr, you let me punch our way out.”

“Supergirl?” Lucy exhales in awe.

There are two things that she’s struck by: there was another Super--

Supergirl blushes as she takes in Lucy’s presence. “Major Lane.”

Lucy takes in Supergirl’s presence, her bright smile, shining blue eyes, and wavy hair. For a moment, she imagines thick rimmed glasses on her face.

--and Supergirl was Kara.

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

Later that evening, the gangsters and terrorists are taken into custody, the villager are marked for safety, and the weapons are all confiscated by the government.

They make it back to base safely with Supergirl’s help.

Lucy can’t help but glance at Kara the whole time, eyes only meeting briefly with a smile. Lucy can’t help but smile in return.

“When you asked me about Superman, I had my suspicions,” Lois broaches the subject after almost 7 years. “We didn't think it was possible until Kara crashed on earth a couple of years ago. When she turned 18 and got her mark, it was around the same time you got your promotion.”

“My promotion?” Lucy asks in confusion.

Lois smiles as she waves Kara over, who is suspiciously organizing humvee tires nearby.

“Hey, did you need something?” Kara asks, pretending to be out of breath as she approaches them.

Lucy then deadpans. “You have super hearing.”

Kara bites her lip. “I didn't want to intrude.”

Lois slips away, squeezing Lucy’s shoulder encouragingly before she goes. She smiles at Kara.

Kara reaches for her suit’s sleeve and pushes it up.

Lucy reaches to touch the symbol on Kara’s wrist. An oak leaf that matches perfectly to the ones on Lucy’s uniforms. She unzips her jacket and pushes the fabric aside to reveal the symbol she’s never shown anyone before.

Kara smiles brightly before reaching up. “Can I?” Lucy nods before Kara gently touches the crest. “I’m really happy to meet you.”

Lucy feels her heart warm at the touch and she looks up at Kara. She thinks she should have more reservations with the way her father feels about Superman, with the fact her sister’s soulmate is also Kryptonian, but she doesn't care. “I’m happy too.”

[swoocrew]

3rd paper from last semester

Kevin R. Johnson’s How Did You Get to Be Mexican? paints a vivid picture of a variety of experiences from different slices of the Golden state and beyond. Johnson’s continual definition and redefinition of himself throughout the pages of the work demonstrate the essentially fluid nature of the various aspects of identity, being a good case for idea that everything about identity is a phantasm, only having meaning in regards to one’s contextual living. Johnson begins with a relatively short overview of his background as  a Half Mexican with a white father and Latina mother, after that bit of background knowledge he moves to discussion of his time at Harvard Law in the early 80s, detailing how the relatively new affirmative action programmes in place at Harvard had given a sore case of Impostor Syndrome, leaving him wondering if his acceptance to the program was little more than a farce. He found himself somewhat validated when at the end of his 1st year he was invited to join The Harvard Law Review although the derision from his peers for Latinos and other minorities (particularly students of African descent)  continued to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind. Unable to feel adequately Latino enough to join the Latino orgs on campus in earnest and continually and irrevocably planted as at the least “non-white” (Johnson, 1999) to the eyes of the elite population. Johnson moved through his time at Harvard in relative solace, choosing to devote himself to his studies and to his work at The Review. Upon reaching his final term, he found himself soundly embarrassed by the farewell paper parody The Harvard Law Revue which positioned a large salvo of jokes all seemingly revolving around his heritage, painting one who in reality had stayed away from much of the community activism (even being left off the New York Times’s article about how there was zero students of colour at The Review, with the editorial board choosing to break rounding conventions at best and being willfully ignorant at best) as a “White Hating” drug addicted radical (Johnson ,1999:48). Leaving Harvard a bit bitter and a lot more well equipped Johnson moves into a more chronological recollection beginning with his two parents, Ken Johnson and Angela Gallardo. Much like all life we start with the mother, Johnson’s portrayal of his mother begins with a discussion of what it means to assimilate, to throw away something intrinsic to the self in order to fit in, how his grandmother and mother both chose to reject their heritage from Mexico in favor of an Iberian phantasm(Johnson, 1999:56) This pressure to reject the culture in order to appease the white elite combined with the continued under the surface pressures from the culture itself. Johnson recounts his mother’s battles with depression and money in the wake of divorce, her remarriage to a man whom did not wish to take her children from the previous marriage, causing one of his half brothers to be born outside of wedlock, furthering the internal symbolic violence imposed on Mrs. Gallardo with even the dignity of name taken from her in favor of an anglicized facsimile. After the second divorce things grew even worse for her as she retreated to a simulacrum of herself, afflicted by schizophrenia described as the only way for her to handle an “unlivable situation” (Johnson, 1999:61). In the end Kevin Johnson’s father Ken would take custody of him from the seventh grade on. There he found a situation far removed from his previous reality, true financial worry was now beyond him and the communities in which he lived took on a distinctly different (and poorly seasoned) character. Johnson found himself in a place less embedded in the relative mexicanness of the Imperial Valley, Long Beach being at the crossroads of a racial divide and the tension that come along with it. From his position of privilege to not worry about the implication of his son’s identity Ken pushed Kevin to be more proud of his identity and to never treat folk with disrespect on a racial basis. This contradicted with their white flight move out of Long Beach for a more coastal suburb in the wake of the “rising tide” of people of African descent in Long Beach. Not becoming too dissimilar from many teens Kevin Johnson recounts his attempts to fit in with his newly white environment, taking it upon himself to debase the Latino community in an effort to look in lock step with the status quo. Taking up symbolic violence in the form of language and ideological parroting until he receives a stern lecture from his father ultimately not dissuaded beyond knowing not to speak in such manners in Ken’s presence.  Johnson finally emerges at Berkeley, knowing it to be a place that allowed him to rebel from all of the norms foisted upon him since his youth. It is at Berkeley that Johnson begins to become intersectionally class conscious, finding himself an environment unlike any he’d encountered prior, neither embattled like LA or homogenous like the Imperial Valley but a blend of folk from all walks of life. Here Johnson has his first considerable encounters with the Asian American community, making a few friends in the community and largely finding himself in their company in his long nights at the library; Johnson also finds himself face to face with folks of different migratory status parroting his ideology to the undocumented folk at his place of work, embarrassing and debasing the star employee by referring to him as “wetback”, only in reflection knowing the calibre of his err. Johnson ultimately feels alienated from the community self identified as “Chicano” hoping to avoid what he often saw as purity test based squabbling about who was “more Latino” than one another. Johnson graduates with greater respect for the struggle of all disadvantaged groups in the US and carries that into his post Harvard position at a Law Firm. After accepting his position at Heller Ehrman in the wake of the Reagan administration souring his offer of being a lawyer at the DoJ’s Civil Rights department Johnson finally got to enter an environment where his ancestry was almost irrelevant, taking great joy in the Pro Bono work he did (and of great volume too, working almost 60 hours a week between Pro Bono and billed cases). The most salient to his later work at UC Davis were his cases trying to secure asylum for Central Americans fleeing (Reagan induced) violence, learning first hand just how much discretion judges had in immigration law (Johnson 1999:113-116). He encountered the entrenchment of racism even in the deep court system with court reporters asking if his cases covered “all the wetbacks” or not, creating a multi-level sense of shame and anger. After the case of the refugees Johnson took a trip to El Salvador to study the legal system and the human rights abuses therewithin. Finding himself ultimately dissatisfied with the culture at Heller Ehrman Johnson departs to look for a teaching job, only a few months from becoming a partner. Here Johnson completes the circle, finding himself offered positions at universities that had rejected him for a teaching position previously in the wake of his “ticking the box” on his unified Association of American Law Schools resume. Becoming frustrated with the process he ultimately chooses the comparatively sleepy programme at UC Davis and quietly becoming one of the few Latino law professors in the nation. He assists on the admittance board, even with the now thorny nature of giving affirmative action he now has the chance to pass on the opportunity given to him, giving a strong push for a select few students from a disadvantaged background.  Johnson joins the burgeoning school of thought known as LatCrit which applied the fundamentals of Critical Race Theory to issues of importance in the Latino Community. Johnson tells tales of his name being leveraged as a “stealth minority” (Johnson,1999:133) on tenure review boards serving to provide a non-white view (and hopefully insulated from internalized racism) on professors of color. Johnson tops off the volume with a reflective cherry, asking readers to think more critically about how we define ourselves and others and advocating for better multi-racial acceptance and support. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is quoted as saying “a riot is the language of the unheard” and Johnson corroborates this by asking readers to be advocates for civil rights and advancement for all minority groups, that in the simple words of Rodney King “we just get along” or face the consequences seen in the fallout from the L.A. Uprising.

Works cited

Johnson, Kevin R. 1999. How did you get to be Mexican?: a white/Brown mans search for identity. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

[trilotechcorp]

New Post has been published on PBA-Live

New Post has been published on http://pba-live.com/the-journey-continues-for-manu-ginobili-symbol-of-the-spurs-way/

The journey continues for Manu Ginobili, symbol of 'The Spurs Way'

SAN ANTONIO — The number of regular-season games, points, assists and steals total out at 19,646, but it’s impossible to accurately quantify what Manu Ginobili has brought to the San Antonio Spurs over his 15-year career.

Citing sources, ESPN NBA insider Adrian Wojnarowski reported that Ginobili, who turns 40 next week, is in the process of finalizing a return to the Spurs for his 16th season. A source said the team is still working through contracts to bring back a couple of its own free agents, with Pau Gasol at the top of the list.

Ginobili’s return is good news not only for the Spurs but also for the NBA: yet another glimpse of a player often touted as one of the most decorated international players in basketball history.

“Just like [Tim Duncan] didn’t decide right away, it’s usually best to take a little bit of a respite from basketball, crowds and all that, and think about what you want to do,” Spurs coach Gregg Popovich said at the conclusion of this past season.

With that respite apparently over, the Spurs can turn their attention to chasing a sixth title after a relatively quiet offseason that — outside of landing free-agent forward Rudy Gay — saw few notable additions to a 61-win roster from 2016-17.

When discussing Spurs veterans, Popovich often tosses around the term “corporate knowledge,” which is precisely what Ginobili possesses to go with the leadership, intangibles and playmaking ability that can change the course of a game.

With Duncan retired and Tony Parker not expected to return until early 2018 from his quadriceps injury suffered in the Western Conference semifinals, Ginobili currently serves as the lone bridge between the old and the new. And he’s well-versed in “The Spurs Way.”

That’s extremely important for this team, which Popovich and general manager R.C. Buford readily admit is in a transitional phase as the Spurs look to build around superstar and MVP finalist Kawhi Leonard.

“It’s hard to choose a few [of my favorite moments] because it’s easy to remember the wins, the good moments, the highs,” Ginobili said at the end of the season. “But even the lows were great, too, in a sense of connection, camaraderie, of doing it together. We win it together. We lose it together. Even the bad moments, the tough ones, I’m proud of them, too. Those moments get you better, smarter, make you grow. So it’s hard to choose one moment. I think the whole trip is incredible, and it’s been incredible.”

Still, the journey isn’t over.

Ginobili has played in 992 regular-season games with 213 postseason appearances over his first 15 seasons, while receiving All-Star and All-NBA honors twice.

But the accolades never led Ginobili astray from his usual brand of self-deprecating humor, a quality that permeates an organization that prides itself on not taking itself too seriously.

“I’m the same guy that was struggling against Memphis [in the opening round of the 2017 playoffs] and that you were all concerned [about], the exact same guy,” Ginobili said. “Sometimes having good games. Sometimes bad ones. Sometimes making shots, and sometimes not. I’m the same guy, and I always said that winning the championship or not winning it, scoring 20 the last game or second-to-last or whatever, or zero, is not going to change who I am or the decision I make.

“I can’t throw nine months to the trash and just respond to the way I felt the last game.”

Ginobili started what many expected to be his final game for the Spurs when the team was eliminated in Game 4 of the Western Conference finals at the hands of the Golden State Warriors. Popovich said he inserted Ginobili into the starting lineup as a way to honor the veteran, and he responded with 15 points on 6-of-12 shooting to go with seven assists before leaving the court with 2:25 remaining to a standing ovation at the AT&T Center.

Throughout the 2016-17 regular season, Ginobili often cracked jokes on the road at arenas around the league, hinting he was likely playing at those locations for the last time.

We’ll hear more of that this upcoming season. And for Spurs fans, that’s certainly not a bad thing.

Considered one of the creators of San Antonio’s culture of selflessness, Ginobili has wowed crowds with an array of unconventional moves, clever passes and arguably the league’s most dangerous Eurostep — all while playing with a relentlessness that bordered on recklessness.

“He puts his body on the line every night. He’ll do it to make a great play for the team. He has no regard for what happens to his body,” Spurs shooting guard Danny Green said.

“He’ll do what’s necessary to win games and just help our momentum. I’ve seen the passes, I’ve seen moves, I’ve seen Manu do a little bit of everything. He’s been doing it for a while. I’ve learned a ton [from Ginobili] since I’ve gotten here. From Day 1, I’ve tried to be a sponge and take everything that he’s done — he makes it look so easy, but it’s not easy to do.”

You can bet that’s what 2017 Spurs draft picks Derrick White and Jaron Blossomgame plan to do, as well as many of the returning players.

Ginobili cemented his legacy long ago by changing the way teams view reserves, as the versatile shooting guard — despite being one of the league’s most talented players — has selflessly come off the bench for the majority of his career.

“I’m sure other coaches have used it,” said Warriors assistant Mike Brown, who once coached Ginobili as part of the Spurs’ staff.

“[Ginobili is] going to be remembered for the titles, the scoring and all that other stuff. But you talk about a guy that’s as talented as he is, could have done anything in the NBA for many years. He was humble enough to be one of the first to accept coming off the bench graciously. That speaks volumes.”

Despite Ginobili’s age, the guard hasn’t shown major signs of regressing. Ginobili did miss his first 15 shots of the playoffs in the Spurs’ first-round matchup with the Memphis Grizzlies, leading many to wonder whether it was time for him to call it quits.

Ginobili thought about it, too.

“You know, for moments, I felt like I didn’t [have anything left] in the Memphis series,” he said.

Then, in the second round, Ginobili suddenly appeared to turn back to clock. In Game 5 of the conference semifinals against the Houston Rockets, after sending the game to overtime with a driving left-handed layup, Ginobili blocked James Harden’s final-second attempt to preserve a Spurs overtime victory.

In the West finals, Ginobili pulled together two of his best postseason outings over the past three years (21 points in Game 3 and 15 in Game 4), showing the eventual NBA champions that the old man might not be done just yet.

“He kind of worked us pretty good in these four games, so I think he’s got quite a bit left in the tank,” Warriors forward Draymond Green said. “One thing about it: He’s definitely not a liability on the floor. He can still defend. He can still score buckets with the best of them. So definitely much respect to Manu and their organization. First-ballot Hall of Famer, for sure.

“Still one of the toughest guys. Anytime someone asks me like: ‘Who [are] the toughest guys you ever [had to] guard in the league?’ He’s one of the ones, always, in my answer.”

Green will get another crack at facing Ginobili in 2017-18. And for that, Spurs fans — and NBA fans — should be thrilled.

Source: http://www.espn.com/blog/san-antonio-spurs/post/_/id/1747/the-journey-continues-for-manu-ginobili-symbol-of-the-spurs-way