#actually probably enemies cause duck likes to kill bugs

[pizza-feverdream]

I spent more time editing the gif than the actual artwork lol

Here's the Boys. They're just some Totally Not Screwed Up Guys

[kikyozoldyck]

crappy birthday

PAIRING: hidan x reader SUMMARY: your soulmate is shit at birthdays WARNINGS: swearing, violence, descriptions of murder, shitty poetry courtesy of hidan

You wake up on your birthday and don’t feel any different. You go about your daily routine like you do every other day because, as far as you’re concerned, today is like every other day. You’re hardly expecting chocolates because you have no significant other or even friends who might give you sweets to snack on, and even before the incident, you were hardly one to celebrate yourself, although you vaguely remember your parents throwing some ridiculous party for you every year, in fact, your last real, clear memory of them is the three-tiered, casino-themed birthday cake your mother made for you (and proceeded to bleed out all over later that same evening.) 

Oh, well. C’est la vie, and all that, right?

It’s a nice day, you notice once you’ve gotten dressed and wandered out into your kitchen. Not too cold, and certainly not too hot, with a nice breeze, perfect for enjoying a morning that cute little tea shop down the street, with some tea and scones and a book to keep you company.

It’d be nice to share it with someone, if you had anyone. 

(You do have one person, your mind supplies unhelpfully, you’ll always have him.)

You ignore that one, disgusting, traitorous thought in favor of grabbing a worn paperback off your shelf, tying your coat around your waist, toeing on your shoes, and opening your front door.

And then you stop in your track and stare. At the body. On your doorstep

“What the fuck, Hidan?” You swear to yourself, though, you can’t say that you’d be too surprised if the creepy fuck just happened to be close enough to hear it. 

And then Mrs. Sato from next door comes out, humming merrily under her breath as she locks the door behind her before turning to you.

“Good morning, dear. Such a lovely day, isn’t it?”

You smile back, just a little fixedly. “The loveliest.”

“Oh, well! Best enjoy it while it lasts!” Mrs. Sato bobs her grey head a few times and toddles past, stepping around the corpse, like it isn’t there. “Have a nice day, dear.”

“You too, Mrs. S.” You reply politely, finger tapping impatiently against the doorframe as you wait for her to disappear down the stairwell. Then you’re crouching down in the blink of an eye, every sense zeroing in on the body, and that’s when you realize, the body is still breathing.

And that means there’s definitely some weird, ancient, Jashinist ninjutsu involved because aside from the fact that your next-door neighbor didn’t so much as bat an eyelash as she passed, there’s also 1) a hole carved into the chest of the body, meticulously and precisely heart-shaped, just big enough for you to peer inside and watch the exposed organ beat, and 2) the body isn’t just anybody, it’s your childhood rival — Funai Yuka.

You stare for a moment longer, oddly mesmerized by the physical thump of the blood-red heart that you can both hear and see. It is so gorgeously delicate in this one moment, under your complete mercy.

Then, cautiously, you reach out and tug lightly at one tail of the intricately tied bow around Funai’s arms and torso, just below her breasts but above her bound wrists. It is also linked with a red ribbon.

And there’s a card tucked between Funai and the ribbon, one that you retrieve now. It isn’t anything fancy, note hastily scrawled on what looks to be the back of a soba shop receipt with a doodled version of Hidan, covered in Jashinist symbols and what looks like blood, handing a heart — the conventional symbol, not the organ — out to an equally crudely drawn version of yourself. 

You flip it over, and in a slightly messy black scrawl, the card reads,

This dumb bitch thought she was better than you so I Killed her to prove that Nobody is as hot as you P.S. Happy Birthday 

It isn’t signed, but you read it a second time, then a third. And then you laugh, bright and bold in the crisp winter morning, genuine and amused because you didn’t even know Hidan knew what a tanka was — let alone that he could write one.

You look down at Funai again, and it really is sobering to see her like that. Your mind travels back to your childhood, all those long days spent practicing your taijutsu in your parent’s yard in hopes of maybe surpassing her. 

She’d been your worst enemy sure, but she’d been your best friend too. She was the first person you told when you turned twelve, and Hidan’s name appeared on your arm. 

(“Just Hidan?” She’d sneered as you showed her, “hmph. Guess he’s not from any clan. Makes sense, an average soulmate for such an average —”

“—shut up, Bug Queen!” You’d interrupted, tackling her into the dirt, because the name on her hip was Torune Aburame, and everyone knows that the Aburame are total bug-fucking creeps.)

You realize that you’re still smiling when the memory fades. You can almost hear Funai in the back of your mind scolding you about how it’s bad practice for shinobi to show their emotions so freely. 

So, first thing’s first then.

You seize Funai by the throat and haul her inside, slamming the door behind you. Not a drop of blood spills from the open wound as you drag your friend onto your kitchen floor. The tile might have to be sacrificed to the cause, but you’ll just have to deal.

You pull the bow loose, and just like that the genjutsu breaks, Funai’s eyes begin to flutter. She goes from unconscious to fully awake in about three seconds. It’s honestly a little impressive, her memories clearly unaffected if the terror and the fury bleeding into her golden irises are anything to go by, but it’s already too late. 

You’re already rooting around your drawers for a knife clean and sharp enough to mercy-kill her with. She says something, but it’s muffled by the gag and all the blood in her mouth — though you know her well enough by now to know that it’s probably not happy birthday. 

Whatever it is, it’s too late anyway, because you’ve already sunken your entire hand into her chest, palm and fingers wrapped snugly around the rapid-fire recoil of your rival’s heart, by the time she can do anything more than fail at squirming away.

You sigh, because you’re sympathetic, really.

“If it’s any consolation, Bug Queen, you make a great birthday present.”

Then you rip her heart out with one smooth twist of your arm. That weird, old-world soulmate magic floods your system, running along your veins and imprinting into the very essence of your being, with a single glowing soul bond pulsing at the back of your mind and anchoring you to reality so that you aren’t overwhelmed.

--

(And you weren’t always like this, okay?

You used to be a normal person, with normal friends, and normal hobbies, and normal parents that loved you.

But on your twentieth birthday, you received a letter in the mail — the envelope was big and red, and it had the words ‘to my soulmate’ stamped on the front. You were so ridiculously excited.

When you opened it, it went off and destroyed the entire house and killed everyone inside, everyone except, well — you. 

You didn’t show the team of ANBU investigators the card that came a day later. 

It was a stick-figure drawing of your home blowing up with your friends and family inside it. Their bodies are scattered to bits over the page in a bloody mess with the words:

‘Sorry I couldn’t be there in person. I hope you liked the gift! :) Love you. — xoxo your soulmate’ scrawled hastily at the bottom.)

(After that, you begin to mark the calendar. It is a simple red X on a single day out of the year. There is no indication of what it is for, but you know.)

— A year later, you get home from a few hours spent at the training grounds, only to find an innocuous-looking briefcase leaning against the door of your apartment. 

Your heartbeat quickens, and you groan, stooping to pick it up, plucking up the card as well from where it’s slipped into the handle.

Another Hidan original, you note as you duck into your apartment and place the briefcase on the dinner table. 

The drawing is surprisingly minimalist considering Hidan’s usual style, it’s an artlessly drawn picture of you, butt-naked holding miniature globe in your poorly proportioned hands.

Is he gonna blow the whole world up this time? You think with a sigh and flip the card open. In the same sloppy handwriting as before, you read,

Don’t be a pussy. This is not a bomb, okay? You will like this gift.

You thumb the dark lettering before turning to the briefcase and opening it. It actually takes you several long seconds to realize what it is exactly that you’re looking at.

There are files inside, sheaves of papers tucked surprisingly neatly into folders, and—

You reach inside, where two passports are shuffled into one corner. 

One has your name, your personal information — all chillingly accurate. 

One doesn’t. 

Both have your face.

You set those aside, and with a sense of growing urgency, you fumble to open the folders and rifle through the papers.

They’re-

They’re identification papers. Two sets. One is fakes. But the other—

Hidan has restored your identity, you realize, and for a moment, you don’t even remember how to breathe.

(These days, you can get by. You have plenty of cash to use, so you don’t need a job, and so long as you’re not crossing country borders, you have no use for travel papers.)

But it also shackles you, the lack of an identity, walking around like a corpse.

Paying for Hidan's crimes, all these years, even now, as if almost burning alive and watching your entire family die and losing your goddamn mind weren’t enough to atone for the crime of simply having a soulmate.

And now…

You pick up another file with trembling fingers and flick that open. It’s a manuscript. It’s your manuscript, from when you were a writer, a really fucking good one—you might add, and despite having to always battle that hack Jiraiya for the spot on the best seller’s list, which honestly never made sense to you because your works were clearly better — but you suppose there's no accounting for taste, you enjoyed what you did, creating, building your stories.

And now you can do it again. A piece of what you’ve lost, returned.

And it isn’t even just that. The other set of papers – the fake ones – mean something too. It’s a way out, a new start if you ever want to leave. To walk away from this godforsaken country and begin anew. To not only lay your past to rest but also leave it behind so that it will never drag you down again. There’s one last file at the bottom, tissue-thin, and it only contains a single slip of paper.

It’s another note: “Sorry, I fucked up your life and shit. Won’t do it again. Happy birthday.”

— The next year, it’s another card, but only a card, with a classic birthday cake superimposed on a baby pink background. An invitation, with a time scribbled on the inside cover, but dead center on the right, a katauta,

I am running out of ways to show you that I love you lets fuck? (Couldn’t fit this in the katauta but I do oral.)

…The way that it makes your heart skip is ridiculous, and honestly, probably an indication of how fucking lonely you are. It’s not even remotely sophisticated, certainly no Henjo or Kisen. And yet…

Your face. Your face feels hot. God, you’re blushing. And your mouth is doing something funny. It takes a moment to realize you’re trying to pull a truly goofy smile. You’d probably never it live down if anyone else were there to witness it. You take a deep breath. Then you glance at the time one last time before pocketing the letter and heading for the bathroom. 

You have a night to prepare for because, apparently, your soulmate is a closet romantic.

— The door swings open, and you’re already smiling as you drink Hidan in. The man has grey hair slicked back with enough grease to start a forest fire and distinctive purple eyes. Still, they suit him, and when he smiles back, it reaches all the way to his eyes – like sunlight reflecting off whiskey, like sunsets when they spark with magic.

Wordlessly, you step back and let Hidan in. He takes a second to toe his shoes off – because he may be a murderous freak, but he’s still your soulmate, and it pays to be polite – but when he rises, he promptly crowds you right up against the nearest wall and kisses you for the very first time, hard and hungry and thorough.

A possessive hand sinks into your hair. Another pulls you close by the waist, and then you’re arching up into him, a twist of his hips sending sparks of pleasure darting across your nerves even as you open your mouth and let Hidan devour you.

The air is heady with the heat of your combined arousal by the time you part for air. Hidan’s lips are swollen red, and you’re both more than a little breathless. You’re not dry humping anymore, but Hidan’s hands remain cradled around your hips, and you’re absently tangling Hidan’s hair around your fingers. Your faces remain close enough that your noses brush.

Hidan’s eyes gleam like firelight as he peers at you, smug and satisfied, warmed by something softer.

“So, like, did all those fucking poems pay off? Do you, like, love me and shit?”

“Yeah. They did.” You smile, and your own words spill over Hidan’s lips, “I love you and shit.”

Hidan smiles and you feel the soul bond glowing bright and solid right down to the atomic level.

A new bond stirs between you, tentative, and fresh but already luminous with potential. Before you can blink, you’re being shoved against the wall again as Hidan flings his arms around you, laughing, laughing, laughing, joyous delight and overwhelming relief.  

[izzyfandoms]

The Robot and The Snake

Chapter One

General Taglist: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game

Taglist: @todefine-istolimit

Warnings: Mild violence, zombies, sympathetic Deceit

Ships: Lociet, Moxiety, Remy x Roman (QPR) and background Emile x Toby

Masterpost

Being a superhero wasn’t anything like Logan Abbott had thought it would be and, for that, he was very grateful. He was never really one for theatrics.

Thankfully, the rest of his team were dramatic enough for the job – no matter how adamantly Virgil liked to deny it.

“Zombie!” Roman – aka the Siren – shouted, gloved hands on hips as he yelled at the lab coat-wearing man stood at the other end of the room. “Come over here and fight us yourself, you… mad scientist wannabe coward!”

The Zombie was their sworn nemesis – a tall, silent man clad in neat black trousers, a plain shirt, and a hooded white lab coat, with a gruesome zombie mask that covered his whole face, revealing only his cold brown eyes. He crossed his arms as he looked over the four superheroes currently fighting for their lives against the horde of living corpses that the villain had just summoned.

Roman ducked as three more zombies leapt at him, swearing under his breath in Spanish and unsheathing his shimmering sword, slicing off one of their heads and grimacing slightly as a splash of corpse goop got onto his sea-themed super-suit. A drop even landed in his dark brown hair, staining his locks, though, luckily, he hadn’t yet noticed, or he would have thrown a fit.

“Aww, come on!” He pouted, flicking his wrist and causing a nearby pipe to burst, controlling the water and letting it flow out and wash away about a third of the zombies. “It takes ages to wash this thing!”

Roman would feel guilty for making a mess of the bank, but they were attempting to save it from robbers, so he figured that made up for it.

“Priorities, Siren.” Logan, aka the Robot, said monotonously, teleporting away from a zombie’s bite and reappearing right beside Roman, running his fingers through his dark blond hair, green eyes narrowing. Luckily, the creatures’ bites weren’t infectious, like in the movies, just painful. “We need to get to his sidekick; he’s probably breaking into the vaults as we speak.”

Roman immediately spun around, frantically eyeing the rest of the room, his brow creasing when he realised that the Zombie’s sidekick – more commonly known as the Snake – had disappeared whilst they’d all been distracted. He then turned to where Patton and Virgil (the Butterfly and the Ant, respectively) were battling against the rest of the horde. The Ant was using his super strength to toss dozens of zombies to the ground and stomp on their skulls with his big black boots, and his fiancé, the Butterfly, levitated above them all, using his powers to control groups of various insects to distract and attack the zombies so he could shoot them with his crossbow.

“Hey, little brother!” Roman shouted, getting Virgil’s attention. “Get to the vaults; I think Snake’s there. We can handle the zombies.”

Virgil glanced back at Patton, who gave him a small smile and a reassuring nod, before turning back to his bugs. Virgil then yanked out a knife from his boot and impaled the skull of another nearby zombie; killing one of them was basically the same as killing a human, though the Zombie could resurrect the corpses again whenever he wanted to. The Ant then wasted no time and shrunk down to the size of… well, an ant. They all lost sight of him immediately after that, but he presumably ran off in the direction of the vaults, to stop the Snake.

The Robot then teleported over to the Zombie, though he made sure he stayed far enough away that the villain couldn’t lay a hand on him – a single touch would leave Logan powerless for another 24 hours at least. That left Patton and Roman to take care of the rest of the walking dead alone, though they could handle themselves. Those were the Zombie’s two powers (raising the dead and removing superpowers), making him a rather formidable enemy. They all had two superpowers, though none of them knew why, or where they came from.

“Why are you here?” Logan questioned cautiously. “You’ve never robbed a bank before; do you really need the money?”

The Zombie remained silent – he never spoke, and his mask covered his entire face, the hood of his lab coat covering his hair. There was no way to tell who he really was, not unless they ever got close enough to unmask him.

After another moment or two, the villain’s head snapped to the side, Logan immediately following his gaze, and they watched as a small yellow snake slithered into the room, dodging fallen corpses and zombies’ legs, stopping at the Zombie’s feet. It then shifted into a tall familiar man in ripped jeans, a yellow hoodie, and a leather jacket, with a snake-like mask and a large, very full bag tossed over his shoulder.

“Let’s go.” The Snake hissed, eyeing Roman, Patton and Logan, and the Zombie nodded, taking the bag from his sidekick and then flicking his wrist, causing all of the fallen zombies to rise once again, overwhelming the three heroes.

“Oh, fuck you.” Roman growled as he ducked and slashed at the continued onslaught of living corpses. “Is this really necessary?”

The Snake responded by unsheathing a dagger and hurling it at the Siren, narrowly missing the hero’s skull as it embedded itself into the wall.

“Hey, don’t hurt him!” Patton exclaimed, and the Snake rolled his eyes at that, turning back to the Zombie, who gestured towards the exit.

In response, the Butterfly flicked his wrist and sent a horde of angry wasps towards the duo. The Zombie ducked away, lifting one gloved hand – the one not clutching the giant sack of money – to half-heartedly swat at the insects, but not a single inch of his skin was exposed, so he didn’t actually seem too bothered by that. The heroes weren’t even entirely sure that the Zombie was male, but he’d never corrected them when they referred to him as such, so they assumed they were right.

The villain then grabbed his sidekick’s wrist and dragged him out of the bank, leaving the gang of heroes to deal with the remaining zombies – though they’d luckily evacuated all remaining civilians early on in the fight. Fortunately, the dead would fall again when the Zombie was far enough away, but that gave the villains just enough time to escape, so it wasn’t really that much help after all.

Roman sighed, pausing for a moment to drag his hand down his face in irritation. He looked over the dozens of drooling zombies. “It’s a shame I can’t seduce a corpse.”

***

About an hour after the fight had ended, the four heroes had trudged back to Patton and Virgil’s apartment – having had to spend almost half an hour dealing with the police – and they were now tending to their wounds, complaining (and Roman practically sulking) about their most recent failure.

“I can’t believe we lost… again!” Roman whined, leaning back in his chair, his scaly blue and green mask tossed to the side as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The rest of his armoured super-suit matched his mask, and he also wore a stylish bright white jacket and white boots. “There’s four of us and two of them, how do they always win? We manage to defeat practically every other supervillain we come across, no problem! It’s been almost a year and we’ve never even gotten close.”

“Because we can’t get close to Zombie.” Logan said dryly, crossing his arms. His own armoured super-suit and mask were silver, matching the alias ‘Robot’ that Roman had given him, since Logan had basically refused to come up with one himself. The name didn’t really match either of his powers, but it was too late now to change it. “If he touches us, our powers malfunction, so we can’t exactly get close to him. Your seduction powers only work if you’re close enough to make contact with the target.”

Roman groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face in irritation. He then winced as that just irritated his injured shoulder.

“One of his stupid zombies bit me, too.” He complained. “I think that dead guy was an accountant, or something, he had no right being as strong as he was. It hurts.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “And I suppose you want me to heal that.”

Roman grinned, holding his hand out to Logan, who was sat on the sofa beside the chair. “Please do.”

Logan reluctantly took the hand in response, pressing a kiss to his friend’s knuckles, before dropping it and scowling slightly. “Honestly, what an irritatingly inconvenient way to heal others, any other method would be much more appropriate. I don’t appreciate having to kiss the foreheads of every civilian that gets injured in our battles.”

Just as Roman was about to respond, possibly with slight jealousy, Patton and Virgil walked back into the room, holding four large mugs of coffee, one for each of them. They both also still wore the outfits they’d fought in, though they’d removed their masks. Virgil’s armoured super-suit was unsurprisingly purple and black, his signature colours, with a matching hoodie that he always wore on top of it. Patton’s suit was pastel blue and pink, with two small metal wings secured flat against his back (for purely aesthetic reasons, he didn’t need them to fly). He was the tallest of all of them, with dark skin, black hair and large round glasses that seemed to take up most of his face, though both he and Logan wore contact lenses in battle, for convenience.

“Who wants coffee?” Patton smiled widely, and Roman sat up straight, eyes lighting up as he reached out to grab a bright red Disney-themed mug,

“Oh, god, yes!” Roman exclaimed, taking it gratefully. “If my little brother hadn’t snatched you up years ago, I’d be marrying you myself. Platonically – of course. Seduction may be my superpower, but romance isn’t really my thing.”

Patton giggled, sitting on the arm of the chair and taking a sip of his own drink. His own mug was decorated with multi-coloured butterfly stickers, and he also wore tiny earrings that matched. “It’s just coffee, Roman.”

Roman took a large gulp of his coffee, before sighing loudly and grinning even wider. “Patton you are a god in the body of a man. A beautiful, beautiful man.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, handing Logan one of his own two mugs and sitting down beside his best friend. “Stop flirting with my fiancé, Roman.”

“I’m not flirting!” Roman exclaimed defensively, hand over heart in mock offense. “I’m simply appreciating my future brother-in-law.”

“Yes, well, as truly fascinating as this conversation may be,” Logan said dryly, taking a small sip from his plain blue mug, before placing it back on the coffee table in front of him. “We need to find out where the Zombie plans on attacking next, and who he is, or we’ll likely never defeat him.”

Virgil leant back, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, okay, but how are we supposed to find him? We all wear masks. We don’t know their identities; they don’t know ours – that’s kinda the point.”

“Yeah, well, we should work out a plan to ambush and rip off his mask, then!” Roman exclaimed, gesturing dramatically with his hands, barely avoiding spilling his drink. “And, maybe, if we… I don’t know… kidnap the Snake, or something, we can use him as leverage to get to the Zombie.”

“Roman,” Patton scolded. “We’re the good guys, remember? We can’t just kidnap him, no matter how evil our nemeses may be.”

Roman sighed irritably. “Patton, the Snake alone has attacked us more times than I can count-”

“Not than you can count that high.” Virgil mumbled into his mug, ignoring the glare his older brother shot back at him.

“Anyway, as I was saying, the Snake’s just as bad as the Zombie in my eyes. In fact, he’s stabbed me more times in the past month than the Zombie ever has! We need to stop him just as much as, if not more than, we need to stop the Zombie!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “The Zombie’s the main villain here, he tells the Snake what to do, so our focus should be on him, not on his sidekick.”

“But the Snake’s much more dangerous!” Roman protested loudly. “As far as we know, the Zombie’s never hurt anyone.”

“That’s because he gets his zombies and his sidekick to do his dirty work for him.” Virgil corrected smoothly after another sip of coffee. After a short glare from his brother, he continued. “Look, I’m not saying you’re wrong, Ro. The Snake is definitely dangerous, he needs to be stopped, but he does what the Zombie tells him to, so we need to take out the boss to actually win this fight.”

Roman sighed, giving in reluctantly, before absent-mindedly glancing up at the clock, his eyes suddenly widening when he noticed the time.

“Oh, shit!” He hurriedly chugged the rest of his coffee, slamming the mug back down onto the coffee table and jumping up. “I’m gonna be late for work. Virge, come on, we’ve gotta go.”

His younger brother groaned, putting his own cup down and standing up, stretching. “But you own the place, Ro, it’s your café, can’t we wait a little longer? We had to wake up at 4am and those zombies bit me, like, four times. I’m exhausted, man.”

Logan’s eyes widened slightly as he put his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Virgil! Why didn’t you tell me you were injured? Here, just… just let me-” He leant over and pressed a lingering kiss to Virgil’s cheek, just to make sure it healed him fully, and his friend gave him a small relieved smile in response.

“Thanks.”

“Come on, Virge, we’ve gotta get to The Palace Café, unless you wanna deal with one very pissed off Remy – he’s not gonna be happy if we don’t provide his three morning coffees.”

Virgil sighed, stepping over to Patton and pressing a quick kiss to his fiancé’s lips. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

***

Logan had left for his own place of work not too long after Roman and Virgil had: the flower shop he owned – creatively named Abbott’s Flowers.

He was currently stood behind the front desk, alone – his other employees were all working in the back room. He’d been arranging a large bouquet for a regular client of his, an elderly woman who’d come to pick it up any minute now, when the door suddenly opened, and a familiar man with a short dyed white ponytail, tattoos covering his arms, and vitiligo on the left side of his face stepped inside.

“Janus, what are you doing here?” Logan blinked a few times in surprise, pushing the bouquet to one side as he stood up straighter.

“I’m between customers and I wanted to see you.” Janus explained, shrugging as he walked up to Logan, leaning over the counter and pressing a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine – emotionally neutral, though slightly tired and perhaps a little nauseated. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

Janus snorted. “I wish you’d told me that before I kissed you.” His thumb lightly caressed Logan’s cheek. “But, seriously, are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, really.” Logan said, taking Janus’s hand off of his face and squeezing it lightly, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. “I just didn’t get that much sleep, that’s all.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” Janus raised one eyebrow.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, you bring it up in every conversation we have. How are you, my dear?”

Janus shrugged. “I’m fine now that I’m with you. I had a bit of a rough morning.”

Logan hummed lightly in response. “Tough client?”

“Something like that.” Janus shrugged. “I mean, I just had a lady who wouldn’t stop talking about politics while I tattooed a rose on her thigh, but she was mostly just an annoyance.”

Logan snorted. “Yeah, well, that is a shame, but you should probably get back to work. Nate and Remy may accidentally burn the place down without you, so I suggest you get back.” Janus pouted slightly at that, and Logan continued. “Besides, I have a customer coming any minute now-”

He was interrupted by the front door opening yet again, the little bell above it ringing loudly as an elderly woman stepped inside.

“Oh, Mr Abbott, I see you’ve got my bouquet!” She cooed, beaming toothily as she strolled up to the counter and looked over her many vibrant flowers. “Oh, they’re so beautiful, I’m sure my daughter-in-law will adore them.”

Logan smiled softly. “You can call me Logan, Edith, and I’m sure she will, you chose well.”

“Only with your help.” Edith reached over and patted him on the shoulder, before only then noticing Janus leaning against the front desk, watching them with a slight smile. “Oh, hello! Who might you be?”

“Janus Belrose,” He held out his hand for her to shake, which she did enthusiastically. “I’m Logan’s boyfriend.”

Edith’s eyes lit up when she heard that, looking between them, her smile widening. “Oh, that’s just wonderful! Your name sounds French, is it French? How long have you two been together? Do you work here, too?”

“Yes, it’s French.” Janus said, giving Logan a short, rather amused look. “We’ve been together for almost three years now and, no, I don’t work here. I own the tattoo parlour next door.”

Edith hummed quietly in thought. “Yes, I do suppose the name ‘Janus’s tattoos’ should have given that away.”

Janus snorted. “Yeah, probably.” He turned back to Logan. “I should probably get going now – work awaits. Love you, babe.” He then pressed a quick kiss to Logan’s lips.

“I suppose I’m quite fond of you, too.” Logan responded smoothly, and Janus rolled his eyes in response, giving Edith a small smile and a nod before leaving.

Logan turned his attention back to Edith. “Now, where were we?”

***

“Hey, you’re late!” Roman pouted irritably, hands on hips as he glared up at Logan and Janus (Roman was the shortest of them all). “Everyone else’s been here for ages!”

Logan sighed. “Okay, I apologise, but one of my employees had to leave early, so it took longer than usual to close up.”

Roman still didn’t look too please, his eyes narrowed slightly, but that was probably just because he didn’t like admitting Logan wasn’t in the wrong.

Logan rolled his eyes, holding up a large bag of sweet and salty popcorn. “I brought snacks.”

Roman paused for another few moments, before snatching the bag from him, looking it over appreciatively. “You are forgiven.” He then turned on his heel and marched off in the direction of the kitchen.

The trio were currently at The Palace Café, having been invited by Roman for their monthly movie marathon, along with the rest of their friends: Virgil, Patton, Emile, Toby, Nate and Remy (Roman’s qpp). Last month’s theme had been Disney movies, unsurprisingly chosen by Roman himself, and this month’s them had been chosen Toby, horror movies.

“Ugh, zombie movies, really?” Virgil complained as he rifled through the DVDs that Toby had brought with him, half of them including zombies. “I hate those things.”

“Aww, come on, man, those are my favourites!” Toby laughed, snatching them back and continuing to work with the projector. “Zombies are great.”

“That’s coming from someone who’s never come face-to-face with the Zombie’s zombies before. I mean, seriously, they’re a little fucked up.” Janus piped up, flopping down onto one of the many beanbags that Roman had scattered across the floor.

“I don’t know…” Emile hummed. “I still think zombies are pretty cool.” He exchanged a small smile with his boyfriend, Toby, but everyone else gave him slightly confused looks. “What?” He asked innocently. “Toby’s been making me binge watch horror movies with him in exchange for the dozens of cartoons I’ve shown him.”

“I thought it was only fair.” Toby laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek. “Trust me, he’s shown me a lot of cartoons.”

Just as he finished saying that, Roman kicked the kitchen door open, balancing multiple bowls of various snacks in his arms.

“A little help, please?”

Patton immediately jumped up, taking two of the bowls and bringing them back over to the large purple beanbag Virgil had settled himself onto, sitting down next to his fiancé and curling up at his side.

“Have you never heard of sharing?” Nate rolled his eyes, snatching one of the bowls – the one filled with popcorn – from Patton’s arms and stuffing a huge handful into his mouth.

“Are we gonna get this movie marathon started, or what?” Remy complained, running his fingers through his bright pink hair before putting his arm around Roman when the shorter man settled down beside him. “’Cos, gurl, I am getting bored, and if this takes too long then I’m just gonna go home.”

“Oh, calm down, Rem.” Toby rolled his eyes. “It may take some time to set up, but it’s worth it.”

Remy huffed loudly, adjusting his sunglasses, “Are you sure about that? Horror movies are kinda dumb.”

Toby gasped overdramatically, hand over heart. “How dare you! Horror movies are by far the greatest genre of film in existence, and you can fight me on that.”

Janus and Logan watched as a debate soon broke out between Remy and Toby  (with the occasional added comment from their other friends) over the quality of horror movies and whether or not they were worth the time it took to set up the movie night – Remy got  bored very easily – and they rolled their eyes in amusement at their friends’ antics.

“They’re basically children, aren’t they?” Janus mused, shifting so he was practically curled up at Logan’s side.

“Very much so.”

***

Many hours later, when the movie night had long since ended and the clock had passed midnight, the Robot was patrolling the city, teleporting from rooftop to rooftop to make sure that everything was okay. The four heroes alternated patrols every night, and tonight was Logan’s turn.

It was a relatively quiet night, and the silver-clad superhero had decided to take a short break, pausing to sit on the roof of an apartment building, legs dangling over the edge as he admired the stars up above. He absent-mindedly mumbled the names of every constellation he spotted out loud, lost in though as he admired the night’s sky.

“You talking to yourself again?” A voice suddenly spoke up from right behind him.

Logan’s eyes widened as he jumped up immediately, spinning around, his hand instantly perched on the sheathed knife on his belt. He let out a quiet sigh of relief and relaxed when he realised who had just snuck up on him.

“Snake.” Logan breathed, removing his hand from his belt and crossing his arms. “What are you doing here? We can’t be seen together, it’ll seem suspicious.”

The Snake smirked slightly, reaching out and lightly touching the Robot’s chest. “No one can see us from up here. You’ll have to think of a better excuse than that.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Okay, but we still need to be careful. If anyone finds out about this, it’ll ruin the whole plan.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but I wanted to see you!” The Snake protested. “And don’t you wanna know if I’ve discovered anything new?”

“Have you?”

The Snake’s smile turned sheepish. “Well, no… but-”

“But nothing.” Logan scolded, crossing his arms. “We can’t risk meeting up like this, we have other ways to catch up, you know.”

“Aww…” The other man cooed. “But you look so good in that suit! Can’t I just be here to appreciate how hot you look in an outfit as tight as that one?”

The Robot tried not to blush, but by the growing smirk on the Snake’s face, he’d clearly failed at that.

“We… we saw each other earlier, remember?” Logan protested. “You know, when you guys robbed that bank.”

The Snake snorted at that. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but I didn’t get a proper look at you!” He very obviously looked Logan up and down, before making eye contact with him again and grinning appreciatively.

The Robot stumbled over his words for almost another minute – the Snake knew exactly how to make him flustered – before finally managing to speak up again.

“Snake, this is serious, we really can’t be seen together!” Logan scolded, swiftly changing the subject back to one that wouldn’t leave him so embarrassed. “If our allies find out what’s really going on, it’ll ruin the whole plan, we’ll never find out who the Zombie is. We can’t risk that… and- and…”

“And?” The Snake prompted, one eyebrow raised.

Logan hesitated for a moment, before sighing. “And he could hurt you.”

The Snake’s face softened, and he reached out and lightly caressed Logan’s cheek. “I can take care of myself, Babe.”

“I know you can.” Logan reassured softly. “But I can’t risk losing you, we really need to be more careful.”

He and the Robot’s faces crept close and close together until their lips were only lips apart.

“Go home, Janus.” Logan mumbled against his boyfriend’s lips. “I’ll see you after patrol.”

[shianhygge-imagines]

Silver Rose [Vergil/Reader] {Devil May Cry} The Power to Protect

AN: Not a lot is known about how Vergil survived over the years, so I took certain liberties to build some background. 

Nyah... I wanted to wait to post this, but here...

|Masterlist Link|    |Prev. Ch.| --- |Next Ch.|

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

Much of the years after the age of seven were spent in isolation or on the run. Vergil wasn’t able to hide his demonic heritage as well as you or Dante could, so he always seemed to attract the presence of demons. Everywhere the two of you turned, you were forced to fight for your survival. While Vergil had the legendary Yamato, you had naught but the dagger that your father left you. Still, a weapon was a weapon, even if it was a human weapon.

The necessity of fighting for not only your life, but for Vergil’s life, forced you to learn how to kill quickly, quietly, and brutally. There were instances of peace when supporters of Sparda took you in, but that peace never lasted long enough because the demons always came.

——

Run. You bolted from the cover of darkness to follow Vergil through the forest, being careful not to trip on any tree roots as the two of you ran from the burning house behind you. For the past eight years, you and Vergil had been forced to move from location to location until you were both taken in by an old couple who claimed to have been some of Sparda’s supporters.

Though you and Vergil had been distrusting of the old couple, you both had decided to stay because the house seemed to repel demons. The wards had been effective until Vergil turned sixteen, buying the two of you nearly two years of peace. But peace only lasted so long. You thought, sticking close to Vergil as you broke through the tree line.

The demons had come the moment that Vergil turned sixteen and truly awakened his demonic powers. The scent of demon had been strong enough to leak past the wards that the old couple, who you had learned were actually worshippers of Sparda, had set up. And two humans were no match against the onslaught of demons.

You didn’t watch where you were running and ended up tripping on the ledge of a sidewalk, sending you tumbling clumsily to the floor with a silent cry. Having made no noise when you’d fallen, you could only watch helplessly as Vergil continued on ahead of you without turning to look back. You could scream, as that would bring every demon to you.

So, taking care not to make noise, you clambered to your feet with a wince. The pain shooting up your left leg told you that you’d sprained it, and you groaned at how inconvenient it was, hobbling to duck behind a structure to assess the damage.

Remember, Y/N. If we get separated, you have to find a way to hide or fight back, okay? I’ll always find a way back to help you. You remembered Vergil’s advice and huddled in a dark corner, drawing out your dagger and holding it at the ready.

It was difficult for two teens to be running around without parents or caretakers, but you and Vergil had one another, and that was better than nothing. In your childhood, you’d had a small child’s crush on Dante because of his overly cheerful and devil may care attitude, something that you had admired and thought cool. Now, you understood that being cheerful and daring wasn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things. It was a charming quality, sure. But you had to be able to keep your head when fighting for your life. And slowly, your crush on Dante had turned to focus on his twin.

Vergil was sweet in his cool and awkward way. He didn’t really get social cues very well as he’d always had his head in a book, most usually the copy of William Blake’s work that he’d received when you were still children. Sometimes you were frustrated when he didn’t understand why you felt a certain way when he said something hurtful.

You’re too heavy. Was one such hurtful phrase that he’d uttered upon watching you practice katas with a bokken. Vergil’s bluntness was endearing at times, but when he’d said that, you had been practicing for hours upon hours in order to impress him. What he had meant as “you’re thinking too hard” had sounded like “you’re fat” to your young ears.

And naturally, you’d started to tear up, stomping away to your room so that he didn’t have to see you cry.

Vergil didn’t get to see you cry, but he and the old couple sure as hell heard it.

The elder son of Sparda wasn’t known for caring about whether he hurt someone’s feelings or not, but you were the exception. You were a friend who stuck stubbornly by his side through the hell that was being hunted by demons. You had never picked up a weapon before, never even deemed to harm a bug, but you had picked up a weapon in defense of him. To Vergil, you were all that was left of his collapsing world. He believed his brother dead, and that his mother abandoned him, but you… you’d stayed.

It was because you were so special that Vergil could never stand the sight of you crying. And when he heard the sobs coming from your room that day, he’d felt his heart drop into his stomach and his chest tighten. The young teen had probably paled considerably at the thought of having been the cause of your tears, and he found that he hated it. He loathed it. Never again did he want you in tears because of him.

When you’d calmed down enough to leave your room for dinner that night, you were so silent at the table that Vergil was beside himself with grief. You were normally smiles and chatter while around him, so to see you so silent was a shock that forced Vergil’s hand.

After dinner had finished, Vergil had not given you a chance to escape back into your room, gripping your hand to gently tug you into his room where he’d brought you into his arms and apologized over and over again. He didn’t know what he was apologizing for. He didn’t know what he did wrong. But he knew that he was sorry for causing you to cry. That night, you fell asleep by Vergil’s side as he lulled you to sleep with poems from William Blake, a hand softly caressing your hair.

That night, you were sure that you had fallen in love with Vergil. And you had planned to tell him when he turned sixteen.

So much for that idea. You thought grimly, still huddled in the shadows. It’s like the world doesn’t want me to confess.

A loud guttural howl cut through the silence of the night. A hunting call. All around, you heard answer cries.

You froze in your corner, grip tightening on the hilt of the dagger. That sounded way too close. You all but screamed in your head. Almost apprehensively, you lifted your head to peer forward only to see a pale face peering at you from the wall across from where you sat. Your stomach dropped as you shivered in fear, willing yourself to get up as the Death Scissor slowly extracted itself from the wall, giggling as it snipped its giant shears.

Run! Move! Your leg twitched as you scrambled to your feet, flinching just the slightest when you remembered your sprained ankle. And in that brief moment where your attention was taken off of the demon, the Death Scissor screeched and flew forward, its shears gleaming in the moonlight ready to take your head.

Thankfully, training with Vergil conditioned a reflex to duck during sudden attacks. Shink! You could hear the shears close above you, and suddenly your once long hair fell to the ground around you, cut short by the demon’s shears. With an unsteady start, you kicked forward to sprint out of the alleyway, the adrenaline masking the pain shooting through your leg.

Any other day and you would have fought the Death Scissor with your dagger, but it’s loud screech had been answered by other demons. If you stayed in that alley, you would have been swarmed. Running was all you could do.

Vergil! I need to find Vergil! You thought desperately. Your dagger wouldn’t be able to do much against a horde of demons, but the Yamato would have no problem. I need to get to the Yamato. I need to get to Vergil. To where I belong.

But you should have known better than to run in a straight line with your back turned to the enemy. One moment you were sprinting as fast as your demon blood allowed, and the next, you stumbled, forced to a standstill as your legs refused to move.

Confused and wide-eyed, you glanced down and noticed that something was protruding out from your stomach. Your feet weren’t touching the floor. A swell of panic cut through you like the scissors in your stomach as you coughed, spitting crimson blood.

“No.” You gurgled, the blood spewing from your lips as you tried to pull yourself off the scissors. “I-I can’t-” You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence as the Death Scissor yanked its weapon to the side, throwing your skewered body to the floor.

All you could do was flip yourself onto your back and try to drag yourself away as the Death Scissor giggled and hovered forward. The demon had severed your spine, so you couldn’t run. I’m going to die. The gravity of the situation hit you. Your demon blood would heal your injury, but you had no way of defending yourself.

“Vergil.” You whimpered, tears rolling down your cheeks. “H-help.”

Nobody answered you cries for help, and you could only close your eyes in resignation as the shears descended. I love you.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes snapped open as bright blue flames lit up the night sky. The Death Scissor above you screeched in pain at the multitude of slashes on its mask before dissolving into ash. With whatever strength you had left, you turned your head to stare as a demon with bright blue scales cut down the rest of the demons swarming the area. It was terrifyingly beautiful the way the demon moved.

Before long, all that was left were you and the blue demon, and you watched with barely open eyes as it stalked towards you. It was familiar as it was beautiful, though your mind could barely grasp how it was familiar. Instead, you were tired and growing cold. If I’m to die by the hands of such a beautiful demon. It wouldn’t be so bad. You thought, staring in awe.

The thought immediately disappeared when the demon seemed to dissolve in blue flames, its form dropping away to reveal your best friend. His normally stoic facade had started to crumble the more he stared at you. “Vergil.” You smiled the best you could, “You came back for me.”

Frustrated and devastated sapphire eyes would not meet yours as he assessed the damage done to you. Idly, you could see his jaw clench as he swooped down to gather your body into his arms. “I… would move mountains to return to you.”

“I know.” You whispered, resting your head against Vergil’s chest as he walked on.

“I was too late.” His grip on you tightened as he growled in frustration.

“No you weren’t.” You reasoned, struggling to keep your eyes open. “You made it just in time.”

“If I were stronger, this wouldn’t have happened.” There it was, that desire for power.

“You can’t protect me from everything, Vergil.” Slowly, but surely, you could feel the wounds on your body knitting itself back together.

“I can. And I will.” Your friend snapped back stubbornly, pausing to look down at your battered form. “You’re all I have left. I won’t let them take you away from me.”

Your eyes lifted to stare into his, and you could see the pain and sorrow at being reminded of that horrible night eight years ago. You could understand, then, why Vergil wanted to become so strong. He loved you. And to protect the one he loves, he had ventured to gain power. Because without power, he could not hope to protect anyone.

“I love you, Vergil.” You confessed, staring up at him with as much love and understanding on your face that you could muster, hoping that he understood you, too.

Frigid features seemed to soften and a rare smile appeared on his lips, “And I love you, Y/N.”

When he kept walking, all you could think about was how much you wanted to kiss him, but your wounds still hurt too much. Instead, you stared up at him, committing his features to memory. His strong jaw and sharp nose. His cheekbones and the arch of his eyebrows. His beautiful white hair and sapphire blue eyes. Your head was against his chest, so enchanted by the sound of his strong heart as you observed him, that you didn’t notice Vergil had started to smile as he stopped once more to stare down at you. He spoke, but all you could feel with the rumble through his chest as he spoke, not catching any of his words.

“Huh?” A dumbfounded expressed formed on your face as you asked Vergil to repeat himself.

“Marry me, Y/N.” It was a statement, which from Vergil, was a request in his usual blunt manner.

“Wha? But! You just turned sixteen today!” If you could squawk in horror, you probably would have. Not that you were opposed to the idea of marrying Vergil. You just confessed your feelings to each other not even moments prior. “And who the heck is going to marry two teens? We only acknowledged each other’s feelings tonight!”

“We don’t need someone to officiate our union. For me, you have always been and will always be the woman I love.” A teasing grin replaced the smile and a mischievous glint lit up blue eyes. “Why, Y/N? Don’t tell me that you’re shy?”

Vergil hadn’t been this teasing to you in such a long time that you became flustered. “Wha-I-How? Argh! FINE! I’ll marry you!” Vergil grinned victoriously. “And wipe that smug grin off your stupid face! We are not speaking further about this until I’m fully healed, have had a relaxing bath, and gotten a peaceful night’s rest!”

“No clothes while you sleep beside me? How brave.”

“Shut your stupid face, Vergil!” You cried out, face growing more red by the second.

“But you love this stupid face.”

…You really did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

[sadrien]

brush contact, i: surveillance

on ao3

honestly i've wanted to write a spy au for a g e s and finally just sat down and started. the first two chapters are relatively simpler than the last two, so those might take longer to get sorted.

enjoy!!

brush contact (n.) - a brief moment where two agents ‘meet' and quickly exchange information, documents, and/or equipment

Adrien really wishes that his father would inform him when there are new additions to the security detail. There’s something incredibly terrifying about being grabbed by the waist and yanked under a table. It’s more terrifying when it’s not someone you have mentally prepared yourself to be yanked around by.

“Cambric or calico?” he whispers to her.

She shushes him.

He shifts away from her. “Seriously, cambric or calico?”

“Seriously,” she hisses back, “I need you to be quiet. Now isn’t the time to talk about my fashion choices.”

Adrien rolls his eyes and inches closer to the table cloth, ready to run the moment he needs to.

Her hand wraps tightly around his wrist. She’s going to leave bruises. “Do not move.”

He takes a slow breath before turning to looking at her. She has dark red hair that reaches her lower back in gentle curls and dark brown eyes. He memorizes the patterns of her freckles the best he can— someone will be asking him about them later. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Her grip tightens. “You need to trust me.”

Adrien slowly pulls his arm back, wishing she’d let go. “I hear no reasons for why I should be hiding under a table. No gunshots, no fight sounds.”

“You should know better than that,” she murmurs. “Just because you don’t hear the enemy doesn’t mean they aren’t there.” She says the saying sagely, like she’s wiser than she looks. It mostly just makes her sound like she’s repeating something someone has told her constantly. “The smartest enemy is the one you don’t even know you’re fighting.”

He stares at her pointedly.

“I’m not—” She shrinks back as she realizes how loudly she’s speaking. “I’m trying to save your life,” she whispers.

“Cambric or calico,” he repeats.

She gives him a confused look. “Well what are you making?”

“My father didn’t hire you,” Adrien says, trying to pull away his arm.

She scoffs. “Of course he didn’t hire me.”

“Then who did and why should I trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

She sighs. “If you must have a name, call me Ladybug. But I can’t tell you who hired me, you should just trust me because you want to stay alive.” ��

Adrien narrows his eyes. “Alright, Ladybug ,” he says, the alias feeling strange in his mouth. “Why are you bugging me?” He snickers at Ladybug’s disgusted expression.

“If I could leave you here right this second, I would,” she grumbles. “I’m actually offended by that.”

He shrugs. “You could leave me here. Seeing how you have no business being here in the first place.”

“Yes I do,” she says, her whispers sharper than a knife. “I’m here to protect you .”

Adrien gives her another once over. It doesn’t hurt to keep attempting to commit her appearance to memory. She’s pretty but— “You’re just a kid.”

She rolls her eyes. “So what?”

“How can you protect me? You look like you’re younger than me and I’m bigger and probably stronger—”

Ladybug slaps her hand over his mouth and tightens her grip on his wrist. “First of all,” she hisses, “be quite. Second of all, I could snap you in half.”

He gives her a flat look. He knows he’s skinny and unassuming, but he’s been taking karate since he was old enough for his mom to start getting paranoid— and after he pretended to be a martial arts master and accidentally kicked his dad in the face. He’s a lot stronger than people give him credit for. He also wants Ladybug’s hand off his mouth.

Nathalie will kill him if she finds out, but he doubts Ladybug will go off blabbing.

Her eyes go wide and she jerks away, burying her face in the crook of her arm to muffle her squeal. “You licked me!” she snaps as she glares at Adrien.

“Yup.” He dives toward the table cloth with the goal of just alerting someone that some weird girl with a strange name is attempting to kidnap him.

Ladybug grabs him by the ankles and drags him back. Okay, so she’s stronger than she looks too. She wraps him in a chokehold and grimaces before covering his mouth with her hand again.

Adrien sighs and slumps against her. He figures if he struggles this chokehold will actually choke, but for now it’s more like Ladybug has gently wrapped her arm around his neck. Thoughtful of her.

“You know, you could’ve screamed,” Ladybug says thoughtfully.

Adrien strains to see her. Ladybug lets him move just enough so they can see eye to eye and Adrien raises an eyebrow at her.

She sighs. “Swear you won’t scream now that I’ve given you the idea?”

He nods and she moves her hand away from his mouth, wiping it on his suit jacket. “I don’t want to cause a scene,” he admits.

Ladybug furrows her eyebrows. “What if I was trying to hurt you?”

Adrien shrugs. “Cambric or calico?”

She scowls. “I already told you , I wasn’t hired by your dad!”

“Then who hired you?”

She looks away. “None of your business.”

“I could scream—”

“I know I’m supposed to protect you but I could also snap your neck, so keep that in mind, Agreste.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “Okay so my dad didn’t hire you but some mysterious shadow person. That’s fine. My question is who hires a ten year old?”

Ladybug stiffens and for a second Adrien fears for his throat. “Someone who needs to protect a ten year old,” she says carefully.

“What are you protecting me from?” he asks softly.

There has to be more to this than just the fact that his dad’s a famous designer, right? He’s always wondered why his parents are so paranoid, why he has to be homeschooled, why he has to always be followed around. He’s been to fashion shows, he knows that other designers don’t have intense security details. He’s just a kid, but he’s not completely oblivious. He’s heard his parents’ hushed worries before, he just doesn’t know what they’re worried about .

“Someone who wants to hurt you,” Ladybug says plainly.

Adrien groans. “Why won’t anyone tell me anything?”

“Because it could hurt you.”

“And that’s why we’re hiding under a table?”

“Yes.”

He sighs.

“I’m sorry, were you having fun standing around and drinking soda?” Ladybug loosens her chokehold a little. “This party seems boring. The clothes are nice, but everything is boring .”

“That’s cause it’s a grown up party,” Adrien grumbles. “I’m lucky to get to go to these.”

She scrunches up her nose. “Whatever.”

“We could go look at the clothes instead of hiding down here?” he offers.

Ladybug shakes her head. Admittedly, he hadn’t thought it would work, so there’s really no loss there. “We have to stay put until I get the codeword,” she says firmly.

“And what’s that?” Adrien asks.

She gives him a weird look. “That’s classified.”

“What are you?”

She smirks. “That’s for me to know and for you to never find out.”

“More secrets,” he mumbles.

“Sometimes secrets are good,” Ladybug points out.

“And sometimes they get you killed,” Adrien says with a shudder. He’s seen too many movies to think otherwise.

The room quiets and Ladybug pulls them closer to the wall the table is pushed against. Her hand is back over Adrien’s mouth, but this time, he doesn’t care. He can feel her heartbeat against his back and it’s racing and that can’t be a good sign.

“Don’t move,” Ladybug whispers in his ear so softly he can barely make out the words. “Don’t even breathe.”

Adrien closes his eyes and hopes that her codeword comes in soon.

Ladybug slowly releases him from the chokehold. Adrien opens his eyes when she takes his hand and starts crawling toward the end of the table. He raises his eyebrows, but she just presses a finger to her lips.

“If I say run, run,” she murmurs when they reach the tablecloth.

Adrien can’t remember how far away this table is from the door. He gulps. The room had dropped from the normal conversational chatter of these sorts of parties to hushed whispers.

“Ladybug,” he hisses. She shoots him a look that screams ‘be quiet!’ but he shakes his head. “Cambric or calico?” She looks like she’s going to snap at him, but he interrupts her. “The answer is muslin.”

Ladybug blinks. “Why are—”

She’s cut off by something slamming. Her hand tightens around Adrien’s as an ear piercing shriek rings out. “Run!” Ladybug shouts ducking out from under the table and dragging Adrien along with her.

Adrien skids in his dress shoes as Ladybug whips around a corner. He doesn’t know where they’re going or why they’re running or even why he trusts her, but his heart is in his throat and he just tells himself to keep going and not look back.

What is happening?!

Adrien’s muscles and lungs are burning when Ladybug stops running in front of a huge set of doors. He vaguely remembers entering through them at the start of the party a few hours ago. He’d been a little too zoned out to know where they were going when they arrived, something he’d definitely chided for later since he hadn’t exactly been the most engaging and his parents— 

His parents .

They had gone with a few other guests to go look at some fancy new something or other that Adrien hadn’t been interested in and hadn’t been invited to see. He has no idea where they are or if they’re okay.

“Ladybu—”

She shushes him. “We can’t go out this way.”

Adrien frowns. “Why can’t we just open the doors…?”

She shakes her head and motions to her ear, like it’ll mean something to him. “We need to find another way,” she mutters. Her eyes narrow as something crashes somewhere behind them. “Ugh! I’m supposed to be better than this!” she complains stomping her foot. “They said I could handle this!”

“ Who ?!” Adrien demands, looking around frantically. The sounds of fighting are coming closer and he really really wants to be somewhere that’s not here. Taking on a ten year old girl is one thing. Taking on what are probably grown adults is something he can’t do.

“I…” Ladybug chews on her lip and Adrien thinks she might draw blood. “I don’t—”

A tour. They’d been given a tour when they first arrived, because Adrien’s mom is old friends with the host and they had arrived a bit early. He has to have seen an escape. He remembers a door in the kitchens, but that’s back by the ballroom the party had been held in and beyond whoever was causing all of this .

Adrien suddenly remembers an open window. 

It had been strange, because this house had so few windows that actually opened. Most were just solid panes of glass. 

He makes sure he’s holding Ladybug’s hand tight and drags her away from the door. “I have an idea!” He just hopes he’s going in the right direction.

“This better work,” she says as she catches up to him.

He takes a few wrong turns before he gets them to the library. He yanks on the doors, but they’re locked. And he has no idea where the key could be. He groans and presses his palms to the smooth wood. “There was a window in here,” he says. “It was open just a little bit and didn’t have a screen. And the gardens are right outside it. We could’ve—”

“Move,” Ladybug says sharply nudging him out of the way. She takes a small case out of her pocket and pulls what looks like two metal sticks from it. She sticks out her tongue of the corner of her mouth as she slides them into the lock and fiddles them around.

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time for her to straighten victoriously as the lock clicks. She opens the door and shoves Adrien inside before ducking and closing the door behind them. She grabs a chair and moves it in front of the door under the handle. “Let’s go,” she says, turning to the window.

“Wait,” Adrien says as she opens the window the rest of the way. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

She hesitates and looks down into the bushes below. “Someone is supposed to die tonight,” she says softly.

Adrien stares at her, his mind fogging. “M-me?”

Ladybug shakes her head. “No, not you.”

“Then who?”

She closes her eyes. “That’s classified.”

“Why is everything classified!?”

“Because it’s safer that way!” she snaps. She grabs him by the arm and yanks him over to the window, nearly pushing him through it. He braces himself on the window sill and stares down into the butterfly bush below. Ladybug sighs. “Please just climb out before I throw you out.”

“My parents—”

“Will be found after. Please—” He turns to look at her and her eyes are wide. She glances anxiously to the door and the chair wedged under the handle. They both know it won’t do anything if anyone really wants to come in. “ Please ,” Ladybug begs. “Just let me do my job.”

Adrien climbs out the window.

The drop is a little higher than he was ready for and he drops to one knee when he hits the ground. He winces as his ankle protests the weird landing. For the first time today, he’s glad he’s wearing a suit. The branches of the butterfly bush scratch his face and if his arms weren’t covered, they’d probably be bleeding. He steps out of the way and Ladybug drops from the window with significant more grace.

She takes his hand and pulls him out of the bushes. “We’re out,” she says. “In the gardens, what’s your location?”

Adrien realizes she must have some sort of earpiece. That’s where she was supposed to get the codeword from. He wonders if it ever came.

He follows her mindlessly through the grounds. Sometimes she talks to whoever is on the other end of her earpiece, but mostly they’re quiet. He has a lot of questions, but isn’t sure how to ask any of them.

Adrien doesn’t realize how far they’ve gotten from the house until they’re wandering around the streets of the city. The house had been a little way away from the nearest town, nestled in between hills in the French countryside. It had been a long ride there and Adrien had fallen asleep playing Pokémon in the backseat.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since they left the party. Or since Ladybug pulled him under the table.

He keeps circling back to what she had said. Someone is supposed to die. That’s something you’re only supposed to hear in the movies, isn’t it? That’s not— That’s not real life .

And if someone was supposed to die but it wasn’t him, then why did he need protection?

Adrien has an answer and thinking about it made him feel sick. So he doesn’t.

His hand is sweating and he hopes Ladybug doesn’t mind. He’d let go, but he doesn’t think she’d let him and he doesn’t want to. It’s nice to have something grounding when everything has been flipped upside down.

Ladybug brings him to a hotel. They take the elevator to the seventh floor and go to room 716. She knocks what seems like a very specific pattern before the door is opened. The man who opens the door ushers them inside without a word.

Adrien does a double take. The room is filled with people, whispering to each other as they’re bent over all sorts of equipment. They all look up to see him and Ladybug before immediately going back to work.

Ladybug let’s go of his hand.

She starts talking to the man who opened the door rapidly in what Adrien vaguely recognizes as Mandarin. He only started learning a year or two ago, but he catches a few words, like ‘table’, ‘library’, and ‘parents’.

“My parents,” Adrien says suddenly. Everyone’s eyes snap to him and he tries not to wilt under all of the intense gazes. “I need to find my parents.”

The man puts his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I’ll bring them to you as soon as I finish with Ladybug,” he promises. He switches back to Mandarin and returns to him and Ladybug’s competition.

“Hey, kid.” Adrien looks over to one of the people sitting on the bed. This bed has five people on it and far too much equipment. They’re all practically laying on top of each other. The one who spoke moves a laptop and pats the open spot on the bed. “Sit down. It might take a while.”

So Adrien sits. And Adrien waits.

Time no longer has meaning, he’s just stuck in a limbo of confusion and questions. None that will get answered by anyone in the room. He can see a few of the screens, but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t understand anything on them. When people talk, they talk quickly, in hushed tones, using codewords that he doesn’t understand. Ladybug and the man keep talking in a language he doesn’t understand.

He feels like he’s drowning in the unknown. It caught him and he couldn’t get out and now it’s closing over his head and he can’t breathe.

It’s darker now. The sun is setting. Adrien knows the party started around midafternoon. His mom must be worried.

At some point he’s handed a waterbottle and a bag of chips. He drinks the water and picks at the chips. He feels too weird to eat, too overwhelmed.

Ladybug and the man are sitting on the floor, still talking but talking much slower now. Adrien is able to pick up more of their conversation at this pace, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to know but he also doesn’t. But he’s also tired, so he zones them out.

He ends up on the floor between the bed and the wall. It’s more comfortable down here and a bit more spacious than his tiny spot on the bed. He bundles up his suit jacket and uses it as a pillow.

Adrien stares at the ugly hotel wallpaper. His dad would be disgusted and his mom would laugh and promise to tear it down. And when they did, they’d draw all over the bare walls before painting over their art. His dad would draw dresses and suits and designs that Adrien could imagine royalty wearing. His mom would draw mostly flowers but then sketch out faces that looked so real they could come to life. Adrien would draw lots of Pokémon and lots of cats. He’d try and copy his parents’ drawings and fail miserably, but his mom would smother him in kisses as he laughed and tell them they were beautiful. And then they’d paint the walls a color his dad found less ugly and the drawings would be hidden. They’d never be seen again, but he would know they were there.

Adrien rolls away from the wall and stares at the comforter that hung over the side of the bed.

He falls asleep at some point. He’s not sure when, but Ladybug shakes him awake, squeezed between the bed and wall with him. “We’re bringing you back,” she says softly.

Adrien groans as he sits up, blinking blearily at her. “You are?” Part of him thought he was going to be stuck in this hotel room forever.

Ladybug nods and takes his hand to pull him to his feet.

Four of the five people on the bed Adrien sat on are asleep. The fifth is typing rapidly on a laptop that’s resting on someone else’s legs. About half the room is asleep while the other half continues to work. There’s empty takeout containers sitting on a table and water bottles littered around the room.

Ladybugs brings Adrien to the man, who’s waiting by the door. “I’m staying here,” she says, looking away. She throws her arms around Adrien’s neck in a tight hug before quickly stepping away. “Goodbye.”

Adrien looks up at the man. “I’m not going to see any of you again, am I?”

The man shakes his head. “You won’t be seeing us, Monsieur Agreste. And believe me, that’s for the best.”

Ladybug tugs on her hair and won’t meet Adrien’s eyes.

“Thanks,” Adrien says softly, “for saving me.”

She nods quickly before turning away. “You’re welcome.” Her voice is hoarse and shaky.

“Lock the door behind us,” the man says to Ladybug. He opens it and Adrien follows him out into the hallway. The door shuts softly behind them and they wait to hear the deadbolt click before they start to the elevator.

Adrien follows the nameless man outside to a car. They get in the car and drive for some period of time, he doesn’t know for how long, he doesn’t check the clock.

He rests his head against the cold glass and watches the world fly past until he falls asleep.

Adrien wakes up as the car slows. He sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. They’re back in Paris, they’re in front of his house. Home . He reaches to unbuckle his seatbelt before glancing to the man, unsure if he’s allowed to move or not. The man nods and Adrien fumbles with his seatbelt before throwing the door open.

He almost trips as he climbs out of the car and runs up to the camera and bell. He presses the button eagerly, despite whatever awful hour it is. They have to be up, they have to be waiting for him.

The gate swings open without a word.

Adrien glances back at the car before sprinting up the walkway to the front door. Nathalie opens it as he climbs the steps.

“I’m so sorry,” he bursts out. “There was this girl and she—”

“Adrien,” she says softly, stiffly.

“Père, Mère, are they awake?” he asks. “Can I see them? I—”

“Adrien,” Nathalie says, harsher this time.

“Do they know I’m okay because the people I was with wouldn’t tell me anything so—”

“ Adrien! ” Nathalie snaps.

Adrien steps back in surprise.

She sighs and fixes her glasses. “Adrien… Your father isn’t home right now.”

His heart almost stops. “W-why not? What time is it?”

“It’s late,” she says. She puts a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and guides him into the house.

“But why isn’t Père home?” It’s getting harder to breathe, he’s drowning, just like he was in that hotel room.

“Your mother.”

Adrien freezes.

“Adrien, something happened at the party. And your mother didn’t make it.”

Time stops.

“She died.”

[kristablogs]

Murder hornets are coming (but probably not for you)

These invasive insects can be up to two inches in size, with a giant stinger to match. (Washington State Department of Agriculture/)

Unless you live under a rock, you’ve probably heard the term “murder hornet” sometime over the past few days. And while it might feel like they’re the next harbingers of the apocalypse, these freaky insects should probably be on the lower end of your ever-growing list of worries—even if you are a bee-lover.

The United States isn’t truly being invaded by bloodthirsty super wasps. But it’s still best to not go chasing after them on your own. Here’s what you should know about the ominous-sounding interlopers.

The ‘murder hornet’ is actually an Asian giant hornet

The Asian giant hornet, otherwise known as Vespa mandarinia, is indeed a giant bug—some reach lengths of nearly two inches. For reference, your average honeybee is a bit over half an inch long.

Some of that impressive length comes from the hornet’s stinger, which can clock in at about a quarter of an inch long. That appendage can pack a serious punch, poking through beekeeping protective wear and reportedly feeling like hot metal driving into your skin, according to the New York Times.

These stings give the Asian giant hornet its notorious reputation and brutal nickname. The Times estimates the bugs kill around 50 people yearly in their native homeland of Japan.

“It only takes a few angry hornets to inject a large amount of venom,” says Todd Murray, a Washington State University entomologist.

The hornets likely hitchhiked on a cargo ship from Asia to the Pacific Northwest, but it’s possible someone brought them stateside to cultivate as a food source. In Asia, they are sometimes eaten or used as a nutritional supplement, says Murray.

But before we duck and cover from the giant yellow and black insects, it’s important to know that these invasive little nightmares are kind of old news: they were first spotted in Washington back in December.

“That colony was destroyed, and that was months ago,” said Lynn Kimsey, an entomologist specializing in wasps at UC Davis.

Not to mention, these bugs aren’t inherently more murderous or terrifying than ones already common on our soil. You don’t want to be stung by any wasp, bee, or hornet. Those stinging winged animals we already have cause around 62 deaths each year in the US, and that’s without the help of the murder hornet. We also have plenty of insects with stings that are equally nasty, if not even worse.

As scary as the hornet sounds, Murray adds, they just aren’t that fond of hunting down humans to kill with their venomous pokers. Honeybees are their targets of choice.

Murder hornets are a threat to honeybees—but don’t freak out yet.

You’ve probably seen a couple devastating photos of dead honeybees, decapitated by swarms of murder hornets. Yes, this is terrible, and they really are a serious honeybee predator, Kimsey says.

These hornets will essentially take over a bee colony, she says, and murder the residents to feed their own offspring. It’s no secret that honeybee populations are already on the decline, are put in harm’s way thanks to certain pesticides, and are necessary to keep our agricultural systems alive. The hornets are also known to target other native pollinating bee species.

“If this particular [hornet] did get established in California, it could devastate the beekeeping industry,” Kimsey says.

But some bees are known to fight back—viciously. One natural defense that some Asian bees have is called “heat balling.” When confronted with a hornet threat, the bees swarm around the attacker and move their flight muscles rapidly. The resulting friction heats up the air around the hornet and overwhelms them with carbon dioxide.

While the hornets can dish out a pretty gruesome end to the bees, they can be served one right back by their own prey. But our native honeybees aren’t prepared for these hornets, and can’t necessarily cook or choke their enemies to death. That makes them more susceptible to predation.

So, are the murder hornets taking over?

Should our nightmares be laced with the idea of giant hornets swarming at us from every angle, murdering us and taking all we hold dear? Luckily, Murray says, only a few people in Washington have spotted the hornets, so even if there is a population of them in the US, it’s likely quite small. And if you’re a reader (or a honeybee) outside of Washington, you can take a deep breath.

“If there is a population establishing here in the Pacific Northwest,” he says, “our hope is that we’ve detected it early enough so that it doesn’t spread anywhere else.”

Just because he’s hopeful doesn’t mean that we should all stop paying attention to the animals around us. If you see an ungodly-large hornet just floating about your garden—or any creature that doesn’t seem quite right—you should take a picture and let your local department of agriculture know, just in case it’s not supposed to be there. After all, these bugs start to reemerge in the spring, so any hornets that have made Washington their home will be out and about starting now.

And whatever you do, please don’t try to catch or interact with a hornet, giant or otherwise. Even a sting from a smaller insect isn’t likely to feel too pleasant, and about one in 20 Americans are allergic to insect stings. While this invasive species may not be a sign of the end times, it’s still not a bug you want to mess with.

[scootoaster]

Murder hornets are coming (but probably not for you)

These invasive insects can be up to two inches in size, with a giant stinger to match. (Washington State Department of Agriculture/)

Unless you live under a rock, you’ve probably heard the term “murder hornet” sometime over the past few days. And while it might feel like they’re the next harbingers of the apocalypse, these freaky insects should probably be on the lower end of your ever-growing list of worries—even if you are a bee-lover.

The United States isn’t truly being invaded by bloodthirsty super wasps. But it’s still best to not go chasing after them on your own. Here’s what you should know about the ominous-sounding interlopers.

The ‘murder hornet’ is actually an Asian giant hornet

The Asian giant hornet, otherwise known as Vespa mandarinia, is indeed a giant bug—some reach lengths of nearly two inches. For reference, your average honeybee is a bit over half an inch long.

Some of that impressive length comes from the hornet’s stinger, which can clock in at about a quarter of an inch long. That appendage can pack a serious punch, poking through beekeeping protective wear and reportedly feeling like hot metal driving into your skin, according to the New York Times.

These stings give the Asian giant hornet its notorious reputation and brutal nickname. The Times estimates the bugs kill around 50 people yearly in their native homeland of Japan.

“It only takes a few angry hornets to inject a large amount of venom,” says Todd Murray, a Washington State University entomologist.

The hornets likely hitchhiked on a cargo ship from Asia to the Pacific Northwest, but it’s possible someone brought them stateside to cultivate as a food source. In Asia, they are sometimes eaten or used as a nutritional supplement, says Murray.

But before we duck and cover from the giant yellow and black insects, it’s important to know that these invasive little nightmares are kind of old news: they were first spotted in Washington back in December.

“That colony was destroyed, and that was months ago,” said Lynn Kimsey, an entomologist specializing in wasps at UC Davis.

Not to mention, these bugs aren’t inherently more murderous or terrifying than ones already common on our soil. You don’t want to be stung by any wasp, bee, or hornet. Those stinging winged animals we already have cause around 62 deaths each year in the US, and that’s without the help of the murder hornet. We also have plenty of insects with stings that are equally nasty, if not even worse.

As scary as the hornet sounds, Murray adds, they just aren’t that fond of hunting down humans to kill with their venomous pokers. Honeybees are their targets of choice.

Murder hornets are a threat to honeybees—but don’t freak out yet.

You’ve probably seen a couple devastating photos of dead honeybees, decapitated by swarms of murder hornets. Yes, this is terrible, and they really are a serious honeybee predator, Kimsey says.

These hornets will essentially take over a bee colony, she says, and murder the residents to feed their own offspring. It’s no secret that honeybee populations are already on the decline, are put in harm’s way thanks to certain pesticides, and are necessary to keep our agricultural systems alive. The hornets are also known to target other native pollinating bee species.

“If this particular [hornet] did get established in California, it could devastate the beekeeping industry,” Kimsey says.

But some bees are known to fight back—viciously. One natural defense that some Asian bees have is called “heat balling.” When confronted with a hornet threat, the bees swarm around the attacker and move their flight muscles rapidly. The resulting friction heats up the air around the hornet and overwhelms them with carbon dioxide.

While the hornets can dish out a pretty gruesome end to the bees, they can be served one right back by their own prey. But our native honeybees aren’t prepared for these hornets, and can’t necessarily cook or choke their enemies to death. That makes them more susceptible to predation.

So, are the murder hornets taking over?

Should our nightmares be laced with the idea of giant hornets swarming at us from every angle, murdering us and taking all we hold dear? Luckily, Murray says, only a few people in Washington have spotted the hornets, so even if there is a population of them in the US, it’s likely quite small. And if you’re a reader (or a honeybee) outside of Washington, you can take a deep breath.

“If there is a population establishing here in the Pacific Northwest,” he says, “our hope is that we’ve detected it early enough so that it doesn’t spread anywhere else.”

Just because he’s hopeful doesn’t mean that we should all stop paying attention to the animals around us. If you see an ungodly-large hornet just floating about your garden—or any creature that doesn’t seem quite right—you should take a picture and let your local department of agriculture know, just in case it’s not supposed to be there. After all, these bugs start to reemerge in the spring, so any hornets that have made Washington their home will be out and about starting now.

And whatever you do, please don’t try to catch or interact with a hornet, giant or otherwise. Even a sting from a smaller insect isn’t likely to feel too pleasant, and about one in 20 Americans are allergic to insect stings. While this invasive species may not be a sign of the end times, it’s still not a bug you want to mess with.