#also it should be mentioned that because this show gave only glimpses at the rich history with these characters it has produced some really

[cowboy-raylan]

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why I love Justified so much. There is so much I could say. I think I’ve just always been so obsessed with how rich of a history a lot of the characters have and with each other and how really the show only scratches the surface of that.

There is just something so compelling to me about all the implied history that we don’t see. I really love the fact that they didn’t feel the need to tell us everything but we get little hints or glimpses that really makes all the characters so dimensional.

Even with Rachel and Tim who both really only got one individual plot line in the 6 seasons. It leaves you desperate for more. Both glimpses into their personal lives were intriguing.

[mindofasupernova]

The Inventor Part 2

Kaz Brekker x reader

Description: A killer is on the loose, eliminating Kaz's informants. In a desperate attempt, Kaz meets a certain inventor that has his mind racing, trying to figure out the complex puzzle she is.

Hope you like it, let me know what you think.

Kaz

A corpse? That's what she wanted? Did she think that he just kept all the bodies of his deceased workers in his room? How the hell was he supposed to get his hands on the corpse of one of his poisoned informants?

One day after meeting the young inventor, Kaz had sent Inej to gather answers to the Y/LN Manor. And just as promised, the girl had already identified most of the compounds, but due to "careless and messy manipulation", clearly referring to Kaz's pouch, she had been unable to determine a specific substance that acted as a catalyst. Inej returned to the Slat with Y/N's message asking for a meeting and a request Kaz wasn't exactly expecting.

According to Y/N, it was of the utmost importance for her to examine the body if she hoped to pinpoint the missing compound not to mention it provided a perfect opportunity for Kaz to tell her about how the poison had captured his attention.

Inej had returned later than usual, smiling and carrying a small brown bag that wafted a sweet and delicious scent. When Kaz had raised his eyebrows in question, Inej had told him Y/N had given her some recently baked cookies. He grunted in response and kept working, but his mind kept drifting back to the cookie bag and what that small act meant.

Inej was cautious but he also knew that she always searched for kindness in people. That snack could have been simply just a gift but Kaz wouldn't have made it this far if he considered all people as kind-hearted. Y/N was a stranger, a rich stranger from the highest of ranks of society who probably didn't care if Barrel rats like him lived or not. Y/N hadn't asked for a favor nor did she need money, she just wanted to know, that unsettled Kaz more than he liked to admit.

He had spent the day gathering information about her, her personal life, hobbies, and all the rumors he could find. He had found absolutely nothing that could give him an insight into the girl's intentions, he had finished empty-handed with the information he already knew: she was the only daughter of one of the richest men in Ketterdam, the perfect personification of a wealthy royal daughter, an innocent and pious little thing that went to Church with her family. Kaz scoffed at that, the defying look she gave her at their secret rendezvous accompanied with her enthusiasm for carving a corpse open proved she was far from innocent.

No, until he had more facts he wouldn't let his guard down. And yet, a small part of him yearned for her actions to be good-intentioned. Stop, hope is a dangerous thing. He had already made the mistake of hoping when he was nine and look where it got him.

Kaz returned his gaze to the papers in front of him, huffing in annoyance, he started writing down orders to get a corpse for Y/N.

_______________

Y/N : One day after the meeting

Y/N was quietly sitting at her vanity, a soft smile adorned her face, gaze completely lost on her new device when Inej, soundlessly crept inside her bedroom.

After Kaz Brekker had left the shop near the Church of Barter, she no longer felt the giddy spark she had when she left her manor. She couldn't blame Mr. Zhang for telling Mr. Brekker about their association, he was an old jumpy man who wished no trouble upon no one. She had left all the concoctions that Mr. Zhang had order, but she didn't show him her latest joy, she no longer felt as excited.

This new invention she had come up with consisted of a music box. But it was no ordinary music box, far from it. Y/N had noticed how most of the music boxes got damaged with time when the metal rusted and the music no longer sounded like a melody but more like a haunted house. So, instead of depending on metal to play music, why not use water vapor. Yes, she had spent four days perfecting the pressure at which each piston released the water so it was a perfect copy of one of the melodies in the Komedie Brute. Four days making sure that the amount of heat the flame distributed was enough to transform the water into vapor but not so fast it was gone before the song ended. And now, here it was, a vapor-based music box with a decorative firebird in the center that literally caught fire, warming the water below.

Mind too caught up on the mechanics of her own work, that, when the Wraith materialized from the shadows behind her, Y/N sent a rain of screws and nuts toppling down the floor when Inej's hand landed on her shoulder.

Wide-eyed, Y/N turned around to face the apparition in her room. The Suli girl raised her hands, to show she intended no harm and in a kind voice spoke:

"I'm not here to hurt you. Kaz Brekker sent me to check up on your progress."

With a sigh of relief, Y/N straightened relaxed her posture. "Why, of course, should have assumed Mr. Brekker would send someone. Please, take a seat. " with a small smile, she gestured to a plush burgundy armchair.

"As promised, I have successfully identified most of the compounds. However, I fear identifying the catalyst agent won't be possible unless I conduct a thorough autopsy on the unfortunate victim. The needle I was given was in an atrocious condition, too many foreign compounds had already interacted with it." Y/N answered, finishing with a hopeful tone.

Inej nodded her head and responded, "I'll let Kaz know, thank you Marchioness Y/LN." Inej turned around, making a bee-line for the window.

"You must not be thinking of going out in this beastly weather. Please, stay until this horrendous downpour ceases." Y/N quickly called back, wrapping her silk shawl around her petite frame, as if the thought of stepping outside was enough to send a chill running down her spine.

Inej hesitated, directing a fleeting glance at the crying sky outside, she resumed to her previous seat.

"Would you like a piece of Cinamon-coated Pavlova? I guarantee you won't regret it, the caramelized peaches are sinfully appetizing!" and before the Suli girl could respond, Y/N was rushing out of her room, the dainty patter of her heels clicking down the stairs.

Her room was exactly what Inej had expected: luxurious and overly grand. But there was something about it that Inej couldn't quite place, her room was tidy to the extreme, all the expensive perfume bottles lined up, gaps between that appeared as if they had been measured with a ruler. Nothing in her room showed a preference or indication of what she truly liked, at first sight, the room would have seemed like the perfect fairytale but now, upon close observation, the room looked generic, hollow, and cold. The spy wondered if all the riches were worth living into a life as impersonal as hers.

Y/N returned, carrying a tray full of fancy desserts Inej couldn't even pronounce.

"The baker proclaims himself a master of crème brûlées. I prefer his fruit-stuffed truffles, though. Mouthwatering" Y/N commented, gingerly placing the tray on her small mahogany table.

Y/N waited for Inej to take a bite out of the coffee tiramisu, after the Suli girl let a soft hum of appreciation, Y/N smiled and questioned: "I hope I'm not being too invasive, but how did you manage to climb all the way to my window? There are no nooks where you could have possibly held onto, you must have an incredible balance to perform such a feat."

And that's how Inej told her about her life as an acrobat, proudly sharing brief glimpses to her past, seeing no harm in the girl next to her. Y/N was more than happy when Inej started talking, she was glad the bronzed-skinned girl didn't treat her with timid whispers afraid of offending her royal title. It felt nice to have a normal conversation, being able to share honest opinions instead fake smiles and condescending words at galas, afraid that if the wrong statement slipped they'll become the next party gossip.

____________________

The morning after, Inej returned bearing Mr. Brekker's message agreeing to a nightly meeting where she'll be able to examine the corpse.

Saying that Y/N was thrilled, was an understatement, apart from a chance to put her brain to good use, it gave her the perfect opportunity to try a device she had specifically designed for creating an alibi while she was sneaking outside at unlikely hours.

Y/N hated piano. Don't get her wrong, it wasn't the instrument, it was the music, her music. Because for an unknown reason, her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own whenever she tried to. She admired the focus and dedication of musicians, she really did, but her mind easily got distracted thinking about her latest reading material instead of focusing on the notes. So, she had created a system capable of pushing the tiles as if her own fingers played the music. She knew it was wrong to fool her parents in such a way but it gave her a perfect cover to go in secret missions her parents would never approve of.

Proper ladies don't get excited over knowledge, much less probe in repulsive matters such as corpses. Look at you, Y/N, what would future suitors think if they discover you all cheerful over someone´s murder? The scandal! Zia Francesca's reprimanding voice resonated inside Y/N´s head. But she could care less about what the whole Ketterdam thought about her, science was her passion, and she would abandon it until the day she died.

Already outside, a navy blue scarf wrapped around her head to shield her delicate features against unwanted attention, Y/N waited for Inej at their chosen meeting point.

The sly girl slipped into view, with a grace greater than the one of a feline, leaving the shadows as if she and the night were one. With a brief nod, Y/N followed the girl into the awaiting hands of darkness. Leading her towards the Barrel, a place where monsters lurked behind every corner impatiently waiting to pounce any minute. Nonetheless, Y/N felt ecstatic, warm excitement pulsing through her veins, a river waiting in anticipation to break the thin modest facade she kept up to let her curiosity resurface in search of enigmas to solve.

When they arrived at a place named "The Crow Club", Inej went to get Kaz and some "others" and told her to wait. Y/N observed the lively atmosphere, seeing customers from different countries around the world when her eyes landed on a familiar head with wild red curls.

"Mr. Van Eck?" Y/N questioned in disbelief, the boy perked up at the sound of his last name, locking eyes with the hooded girl.

Never would she have imagined finding Wylan Van Eck down in the Barrel. She was shocked, Wylan supposedly should be in a music school outside of Ketterdam. Both belonging to affluent families, Y/N had met Wylan Van Eck at several parties. She hadn't gotten to know him very well, but she liked the quiet boy who shared the same look of misfortune Y/N had every time they were thrown into a classy social event. When his father had announced he was leaving to study abroad, Y/N was happy for him although she would miss being silently miserable together. But it appeared Wylan had been doing something far from studying, now sitting next to a tall Zemeni boy with his arm slung around his shoulder.

"Marchioness Y/N, I never imagined...W-What brings you here?" replied round-eyed Wylan, confusion, and astonishment written all over his features.

But before Y/N could respond, steps and the tapping of a cane interrupted their little meeting, Inej small silhouette trailing behind Mr. Brekker.

"So, you know Wylan?" he interrogated in that characteristic rasp, coffee eyes scrutinizing Y/N's form.

"Yes, Mr. Van Eck used to come to our social gatherings."

Wylan just nodded shyly while his long-limbed companion kept drowning shot like they were water.

Dirtyhands humphed in acknowledgment "Nice, know that we are all together let's go to...Jesper, I don't pay you to drink the bar dry. Get your ass down here and let's get moving so our dear inventor can examine the body, shall we?

"Wait, she is the contact you talked about?" the Zemeni, Jesper, questioned. Eyes going from Kaz Brekker to Y/N, as if this was some kind of joke.

"Wylan called her Marchioness? You asked for a royal's help?" Jesper asked, an incredulous mocking smile on his face. "Who are you and what have you done with Kaz?"

Mr. Brekker scowled at him and without another word turned around not even waiting for them to follow.

"Well, nice to meet you, my lady. The name's Jesper Fahey," he said, bowing down and kissing her hand, sending her a mischievous wink.

"Very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Fahey. And please, there's no need for formalities, just call me Y/N." she comforted, as they finally reached the others. Glancing at the rest while finishing her last statement, prompting the rest to call her by her first name.

________

Kaz

Y/N radiated waves of elation, her whole face lighting up at the thought of an adventure, a star amid the tumultuous dark waters of Ketterdam helping him find his way to the shore.

Kaz wore an amused expression at Y/N's amused gaze roaming the dirty streets of the Barrel, a new unknown world full of carnage and sins. She isn't fit for the Barrel thought Kaz, her eyes dancing in amusement at every little detail that caught her interest despite her efforts to put on a serious face and regal posture. She probably saw wonderous adventures while Kaz saw the Barrel for what it really was: a ravenous, savage beast waiting to swallow the weakest whole and drain the lives of the ones who survived its ghastly bites. And somehow the concept that she didn't belong in this world, his world, made Kaz's heart wrenched a little.

During their walk, Kaz shared the details about the latest killer on the loose and his dead informants, all the while, Y/N remained quiet, evaluating every one of his words.

When they arrived at an abandoned building, a single man was stationed outside, leaning on the tainted wall with a tired look in his eyes. Kaz nodded at the guard who gave him a set of keys and trotted out of sight. Kaz guided them inside, careful no prying eyes had followed them. Kaz turned on the lights, briefly disconcerting his companions, and pointed to a table with a big bulk covered by a dirty cloth.

"As you requested, the unfortunate victim" announced Kaz as Y/N placed a small suitcase she'd brought with her forensic equipment and tenderly pried the cloth covering the thing that once had been alive.

Y/N didn't bat an eyelash when she saw the corpse's face, not even when Jesper started gagging or when Inej turned around and started quietly mumbling prayers to her saints. Kaz focused on her face, the calm inquisitive look of a scientist, he had expected a gasp at least. Kaz was impressed by her cool analytical demeanor when a simple glimpse of the man was enough to send Kaz back to the ocean, rotting flesh beneath his fingertips. Kaz shuddered at the thought, forcing down the vomit rising in his throat.

"If you need an assistant, Jesper is willing to help" Kaz stated, stabilizing his voice so it wouldn't show his true feelings.

"What?! Me? Umm..no...I...Helping isn't a Jesper talent." Mr. Fahey said, a fearful look in his eyes, face white as a sheet. Kaz hoped he didn't look as terrified as him.

Y/N stopped her scan, looked up at the two boys, and with a small smile spoke: "I appreciate it, but there's no need. I'm certain I can handle it on my own."

Quickly discarding her coat and scarf, pushing back the sleeves of her rouge-colored blouse, and pulling long laboratory gloves over her hands along with a white apron over her head, she set up to work.

Kaz stared at her features, as she transformed into an eager forensic, light illuminating her face, falling in the right places giving her an otherwordly glow. Rebellious strands of hair framing her forehead, a pink hue staining her cheeks indicating her joyous state. The sight before him would have put any masterpiece to shame, Kaz wondered how she could stare at a corpse and find glee in such a morbid image. But Kaz liked it, the brilliant gleam her eyes portrayed, her childish joy at the promise of adventure.

The spell was broken when she started pulling out scalpels, syringes, and other items Dirtyhands couldn't bother to learn the name of. Pulling the flesh taught beneath her fingers, Y/N made a Y incision, skin splaying open.

Cold lifeless hands gripped Kaz's throat. his brother's icy whispers brushing his skin. He turned his head away and as if perceiving his discomfort, Y/N's bewitching doe eyes stared back at him.

"You can wait outside if you prefer to, I'll notify you when I'm done." her gentle voice reached and Kaz couldn't have been more grateful.

With a sharp shake of his head, Kaz limped towards the exit, Jesper, and Inej quickly following his movements.

--------

After Y/N finished, she eagerly started explaining her findings, a prideful gleam emanating from her.

"Well, Mr. Brekker I must admit this case is a peculiar one. The simplest ones always prove to be the most challenging."

"Here I thought that after years of fancy tea reunions you'd know the meaning of a vast number of words. I'll be sure to buy you a thesaurus." mocked Kaz, a wolfish smirk creeping onto his face.

The inventor frowned at his comment, racing her chin higher, and started her rant, thoughts racing to prove her point.

"Oh no, Mr. Brekker do not confuse simple and easy. Simple is straightforward, plain facts to the observer. Ordinary details are hard to pinpoint, effortlessly found everywhere, which makes it harder to find unique characteristics that could serve as means of identification since their nature is so elementary." Y/N spoke swiftly, pacing around the room, eyes never faltering from Kaz's.

"And that's exactly what happened in this case. As I had mentioned, my extraction wasn't entirely successful, for an essential reactant was missing. However, it wasn't the only reason why I insisted on examining the body, no, a very simple and ordinary substance appeared when I separated the poison: Helianthus annuus or more commonly known as sunflowers." Y/N paused glancing at their surprised faces, clearly pleased with their reactions, she continued, the corners of her lips tugging upwards.

"You can imagine my surprise when I found sunflower pollen as the main component of the poisonous agent. I ran several more tests and the result remains the same, our killer is using these lovely flowers as a weapon. Now, back to the catalyst, the easy part of the equation. This component isn't as fastidious as the previous one, why, you may ask. Well, its vast majority consists of average materials but a small percentage of it contains alloys that are only produced in Ketterdam, that combined with the peculiar way they were fused, suggests a Grisha alkemi made this solution." Y/N concluded, grabbing a piece of paper and hastily writing before she handed it to Kaz.

"There are no signs of struggle, meaning either they knew the attacker or they were taken by surprise. A swift prick to the femoral artery, a clear pathway for the poison to reach the bloodstream, infecting the body within seconds."

"It shouldn't be very hard to find the alkemi. They aren't very popular and most of them are indentured. Here is the list of all the reactants, the specifics, and where I believe you might find them. " finished the girl, looking at the trio expectantly.

"If you don't mind, I have taken a sample to examine more carefully at my house. I'll try to find any details I might have overlooked."

Briskly reading the list, Kaz frowned and then pocketed the small scrap of paper. "First thing tomorrow morning, ask around for an alkemi who might have bought these materials. "

Kaz turned to look at his fellow crows, content with their nods of approval, grabbed his cane, and sauntered towards the door. Her chemistry knowledge was astounding, a marvelous domain of anatomy, and an even more gifted engineer from what he had heard. Hers was an indeed beautiful mind, not that he would ever tell her.

"Mr. Brekker?" her light voice shattered through the gloomy night. Kaz craned his neck, gaping back at her in question.

"Is there perhaps a place where I might be able to tidy myself up?" Y/N questioned, Kaz finally looking at her messy red-stained apron and her exposed arms displaying strokes of red all over them.

Kaz hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should bring the girl back to their home. "You can use the restroom back at the Slat." The girl had risked her reputation sneaking out on ill-advised affairs to help them, it was the least he could do.

"Thank you" Y/N replied as she carefully peeled her apron, attentive at not brushing her arms against her blouse.

___________

Once she had freshened up, Y/N stumbled upon the young Van Eck talking with a couple. The green-eyed girl was about Y/N's age, a generously carved complexion, holding the hand of a tall Fjerdan.

Y/N inclined her head as a form of salute, "I never pegged you for the rebellious type, Mr. Van Eck. I never thought you hated music lessons that much to run away." she told him in a joking tone.

"And I never thought you were the type to sneak out at ungodly hours just to play detective. " Wylan replied, a grin beginning to form on his face.

"Well, I suppose everyone has secrets."

"You must be Y/N, Inej told me you were the help Kaz so desperetly needed. I'm Nina, he's Matthias and well you already know Wylan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Inej had briefly mentioned them, she knew now that Nina loved food, maybe next time she'll bring those exquisite truffles she had so eagerly talked about. If there is a next time Y/N reminded herself, she desperately hoped so, but now that her work was done she wasn't so sure Kaz Brekker would ever seek her again.

"Well, you have saved me the introductions." Kaz sarcastically glowered at the green-eyed girl, Nina kept talking as if she hadn't heard him.

It was one thing for Kaz to admire her intelligence, it did not mean he trusted her, though. Pieces were still missing to the intricate puzzle she was and until that changed Kaz did not like the way she rapidly befriended his crows, her intentions were still blurry to Kaz, and even though he would never admit it he cared deeply about their well-being.

"You should stay a little longer, we could go for waffles as a way of thank you." prompted Nina.

"Your offer is very tempting, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass. I should be returning home." Y/N declined, grinning at Nina, blissful someone had invited her for waffles.

Kaz stared at her and wondered how many times someone had done something similar, not to thank her but rather to use her, so that such a simple gesture put her in a joyful state.

"Scared of what your parents may do if they found out the truth?" Kaz quipped once his crows had left the two of them alone. A teasing tone masking true concern.

"Terrified. Someone may notice I've been playing the same four songs for the last couple of hours, always missing the same notes every time and they might get ideas of checking up on me," she confessed, mischief coating her features.

"Good night, Mr. Brekker. I'm happy I could be of assistance. Please, let me know if you find your killer or if my experience is needed again."

Kaz just bowed, signaling for his Wraith to get Y/N back to her manor in one piece.

Both girls disappeared into the night, leaving Kaz pondering what the hell she had meant with playing the piano.

___________

Y/N

Almost two weeks had passed, no signs of Kaz and no visits from the Wraith, well not that she was aware of. Y/N caught herself glaring at no point in particular, she readjusted her expression and plastered a well-practiced look of keen interest, trying to focus on Lady Stathos' rant about the attractiveness of the Viscount of Chagny.

Y/N politely excused herself, with no intention of making a fool of herself if Lady Stathos posed a question related to her gossip.

Too busy drowning in her own sorrow, knowing that Kaz had probably captured the culprit and was happily celebrating his success and no longer needing Y/N's help, that she stumbled forward, barely catching herself when someone bumped her from behind.

When Y/N turned back around, searching for that someone, she was met with a sight she had only seen once in an abandoned warehouse late at night. One that made her mind scream: Helianthus annuus.

Mercher Dupont's eyes were deranged, veins gruesomely popping and blood spilling from his lips, before toppling in the middle of the dance floor, taking his final breath.

[tomhiddelstonandzaynmalik]

Love at first sight?

Chapter 5

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Word count: 1340 words

Warnings: Language, suicidal thoughts.

prologue chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

"[...] I wish I was a heavenly angel

For I would always cling to my sword

But I am no heavenly angel

Hence I must fight the pain of my fault [...]".

-Heavenly Angel by an unknown author.

"Don't you have a life or something?". Warren teased Hank. It was 3:49 AM when the young man awoke from his slumber. "Not really, thanks to you". Hank's intentions had been good. To return the teasing only. But the purpose got lost when he saw Warren looking down in shame, shifting in bed as he seemed to try to make himself disappear.

It was a touchy subject for him, Hank had forgotten. He knew just how much he felt like a burden to everyone at Xavier's. It was clear Warren was not much of a talker himself. But when those sleepless nights came, where he would jump out of bed covered in sweat and breathing harshly after a particularly awful nightmare, that the idea of staying awake with his companion was more inviting than to go back to his made-up Hell.

Only then Hank had learned about the extravagant life, filled with luxurious items and exotic vacations Warren had grown in. Hank also found out about Warren's handsome but cold-hearted-control-freak father, about his loving but impotent mother, about what it was to have it all only for it to be having it taken away. The lonely days and lonelier nights that followed after, the age-inappropriate behaviours, one bad decision after another, and mostly, Hank realized just how worthless the "poor rich kid" deep down felt.

"It makes no sense". Warren said softly, looking down at the cup of freshly-made tea he was holding in his hands. "What?". The older man asked him while pouring some of it on his mug. "Me! Me being here makes no sense!", "I'm nothing but an inconvenience". Warren let out with sight. Although he was referring to him being at the mansion, the hidden meaning of it sent a shiver through Hank's spine. "Hey, stop saying that! You are NOT an inconvenience, Warren. You should be here!". Said Hank as he got closer to the boy, placing a reassuring hand onto his shoulder. There was some absolute concern in Hank's voice as he saw a glimpse of a tear peeking through Warren's eyes. "Oh! bullshit!". "You more than any other person should be pissed off with me!". "You're working extra hours on a lost cause!". Hank's heart hunched. It was true Hank had been depriving himself a lot so Warren could have the best treatment. Yes, he attempted to kill him and his friends before. But the more time he had spent with the kid, the more he had realized: Warren had been a pawn, manipulated only by the true villain, Apocalypse.

"Hey! Look at me, Warren." He said firmly. "Yes, you are right. I should be taking better care of myself. But I'm only doing so because I'm not willing to slow down until you're heald". He said, with such convincement, it made Warren believe there could be someone being finally genuinely kind to him.

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

"I- I was only, umm, you know it was just a joke, right?". Hank nervously stated. "Sure, man". Even though Warren seemed to pay no mind towards Hank's comment, his voice had failed him, having it come out on a lower pitch rather than his usual vigorous one.

in an attempt of changing the topic, Hank pointed at your still sleeping figure. "So... An old friend of yours?".

It was somehow painful for Warren to see you there, resting at the infirmary room connected to all those noisy machines. In the end, your near-death encounter, in theory, had been Warren's fault. Hank's question had rumbled within the blond's mind. You weren't friends. He didn't even know your name. And honestly, he was more preoccupied with the atrocious first impression he believed he'd made in front of you. "You are the biggest idiot on earth if you think she'll ever want to even see you after what you've put her through". Warren's inside voice scolded him.

"No". The young mutant finally answered. "oh! I see". Hank teased again. Even though what Hank was implying: The real reason You were there was because of Warren's attraction to You, was nothing but the truth. Warren couldn't stop the blush from tinting his pale cheeks." It's not what you think, okay!". "Well, your face says otherwise, Romeo". The older man was grinning at him in amusement. "Shut up!". Warren's effort of sounding threatening failed due to his face heating up impossibly harder. His natural porcelain-white face was now a deep shade of red, making his facial tattoos stand out even more. Hank was having the time of his life. While Warren was acting like a teenage boy, he couldn't stop the laughs from coming out. "You done?". Warren said from behind one of the wings he'd been using as a cover. "Hey, take it as payback from running away".

"[...] I wish I was a heavenly angel

For my heart shall always be in joy

But I am no heavenly angel

Hence I must behave just like a boy".

The atmosphere remained comfortable. After an hour or so, Warren fell asleep again, not after convincing Hank to do the same. Who after, some reluctance, finally gave in and left to his room.

"Wakie, wakie, sleeping beauty". A hoarse grunt came from Warren's sleeping form as Ororo was poking his cheeks to get his friend out of Morpheus' grip faster. "Come on, Dollface. You have to get out of bed! It's almost 9 PM!". "What the hell?" Warren shifted in bed, reading the big clock on the wall. "You little shit, it's only 9... AM!".

Ororo's giggles were resounding through the room. "Oops". "Well, now that your up, we might as well get breakfast. Don't you think?". He was going to argue about how unholy early his friend had decided to show up when his stomach gave him in. It had been more than 18 hours since the last time he'd eaten, which was why he decided to let it slip. "Fine! But you'll have to give me your bacon to make up for waking up a man who almost died in a fire at 9 AM".

"Yeez, you sure are a Drama Queen, Warren". Ororo was walking toward your bed, peeping at the monitors. "Hank said she was the one who got it bad". "Your problem was only exhaustion, which reminds me of: Hank told me, to tell you that you're free to go".

Warren zoned out the moment Ororo mention you. Under the morning's light, it was easier for him to examine You. Your H/C locks were stiff from all the dirt and ash from the fire; Your face, which had been whipped clean when you arrived, allowed him to scrutinize every inch of it. Nothing was going unnoticed. Even the tiniest of your scars located under your left brow had been seen. He was so lost on himself taking your features in he'd forgotten he was in the middle of a conversation. "Earth calling Fallen Angel, do you copy, Fallen Angel?". Ororo raised her voice. "Uh? Yes, what?". "Dear Lord, you didn't hear a thing, did you?". Ororo was irritated but decided against scolding Warren. Him showing interest in people was an odd sight. "I said if you wanted me to get you your breakfast so you could spend more time with her before your appointment with The Professor?". He only wished his friend wasn't able to see his excitement from such an offering. "That would be ni-, wait which appointment?". "What? Your pigeon brain didn't register that either? The Professor said he had something to tell you. Be at his office at 11 sharp". After that, the girl stormed off the room while yelling something along the lines of "not being people's secretary".

It had been only then, as he stood in the middle of the room when Warren heard a muffled voice behind him.

"I'm I dead?" You said.

[butwhyduh]

Falling for Him

I tried to not make a whole damn fic. I failed absolutely miserably from the start. I’ve never gone skiing so the resort is based on the nicest resort I’ve ever stayed (ironically on the beach) with more added to it because fantasy.

Warning: a little bit of fluffy smut

Sun glistened on the icy slopes. The frigid air was tempered by warm gloves and hot tea. You face was freezing but you ignored it. It was the 3rd day of your mini vacation that Bruce had all but demanded Tim take.

Tim was so beautiful. His nose and cheeks were bright red but his smile was infectious. He looked down at you through his long dark lashes. He pulled his beanie down lower over his head with his hair slipping out beneath it and wrapped his arm around your waist. Tim shivered a little before kissing the top of your head.

The smell of hot food was enticing. You looked around at the tiny shops that lined the cobblestone street. People were lazily shopping and walking around in the delicate light snow.

“Want to get something to eat, sunshine?” Tim asked with a happy sigh. “We’ve been walking all day. You’ve got to be getting cold.”

“Just a little, Duckie. Where do you want to go?” You asked. He pretended to mull about the choices when you damn well knew he had planned every meal for the whole trip. He planned too much but you weren’t complaining.

“There’s this little place that does French style..” Tim started talking as he pulled you along the street. He kept talking about the amazing food that was at the restaurant. You tried to listen but was distracted by how handsome he looked.

Tim wore a cream colored undershirt, maroon Henley thermal, and a navy puffer vest. He held his coat in his arm. He was much more used to cold temperature from being outside in Gotham all the time. He had a carefree look that you rarely got a glimpse of.

The place was nice. Concrete floor with red brick walls contrasted with the rich piano playing and classic French cuisine. It was far nicer a place than either of you were dressed for but you paid no mind. You were busy falling for Tim.

He was right about the place. The food was spectacular, even though you couldn’t pronounce anything. It didn’t matter. Tim spoke French quite fluently. A well bred young man from Gotham elite was expected to speak at one other language. Tim spoke 3 fluently for work. There was hundreds of things he knew that blew your mind. Facts, dates, numbers. He was so smart. Sometimes he’d get a look on his face on concentration before saying something so brilliant you couldn’t imagine.

“Do you like it? You look... distracted.” He asked, looking at you from across the table. He had a nervousness to his voice like he always did when he questioned his decisions. He ran his thumb across his fingers nervously. Maybe this place was too stuffy and fancy. Not everyone was used to it. Maybe it was too serious?

“It’s amazing. I was just thinking about your big brain,” you admitted, reaching over to hold his hand. He had a uncomfortably pleased smile as he wasn’t expecting the compliment.

“Oh, what do you mean?” Ever the detective.

“You planned the whole trip and speak French and can ski,” you said. “It’s hard to keep up with all you know.”

He scratched the back of his neck with an awkward look. “That’s more privilege that intelligence,” he said finally.

“You know what I mean. I just like how smart you are,” you said. You pulled your hand away as a dessert was served. A Clafoutis with black cherries in a custard and dusted in sugar. A single plate with 2 spoons.

Tim scooped some on a spoon and offered it to you across the table. You flushed a little. It was kind of ridiculous in a restaurant and you’ve never been fed like that. You leaned over and took the bite only to quickly cover your mouth and breathe quickly.

“It’s so hot,” you said doing the hot food mouth move. You hoped your hand covered your mouth as you were basically breathing with your mouth gaping with food in a fancy restaurant.

“Sorry! I didn’t burn you, did I?” Tim asked, bright red.

“No, I’m fine,” you said finally swallowing. “Actually that’s really good. You should try it.”

He took a tentative bite after letting it cool. It was delicious with a bright cherry covered in delicate vanilla almond flavor. You both ate it, on your own spoons, until there was no more.

After dinner you walked back to the car slowly, wandering the streets a little more in the dying light. Tim watched you as you looked in the open shops that lined that street. He couldn’t help but love the way your eyes lit up when looking at something new. The way you had jumped right in to the trip.

Tim had had a rough couple of years. His father died, Bruce ‘died’, he lost his job as Robin when his brother gave it away to the one kid that was literally trying to kill him. Tim had felt so alone, abandoned. Which didn’t help with his whole raised-by-nanny-as-his-parents-traveled-the-world childhood.

You were his one constant. He’d met you when he was at a pretty low point, and Tim knew that depending on one person for all of your happiness was a quick way to be disappointed. But he couldn’t help but depend on you so much.

The light caught his eye and he looked as a woman put a necklace around your neck. It was pretty. But the look on your face showed that you loved it and Tim wanted you to have it.

There was a delicate balance with you. Tim didn’t care a single bit if you spent all the money you wanted. You couldn’t shop him broke and if it made you happy, he was happy. But you were wary of spending his money. And Tim never wanted you to feel bought.

“That looks nice,” he said looking at the necklace critically. He touched the delicate metal. “Gold?”

“Yes sir,” said the woman. She explained how expensive and delicate the necklace really was. He asked a few more questions. She watched nervously as Tim looked at the gems and clasp before making a decision. You had a little smile at his intense concentration.

“Do you want it,” Tim finally asked you. You nodded shyly. “We’ll take it,” Tim said handing a credit card without looking at the woman. His eyes were on you in the necklace. She gave him back his card and you were on your way.

You held his arm close to your body and Tim had long since put his coat back on. It was truly cold now. “Thank you, Duckie,” you said in his ear with a pleased smile before kissing his cheek. That was all he needed to have a small upturn of his lips for the rest of the evening.

“You’re welcome, sunshine. Let’s get back to the room. It’s gotten a lot colder so I know you’re freezing,” Tim said, once again pulling you along. You were happy to let him take charge in most things. That was part of his job as the CEO of Wayne Enterprise and as Red Robin. He had a hard time giving up control sometimes. He was working on it.

Tim kept his hand in yours and touching your thighs as he drove the car. The car. A silver Ferrari FF. The car moved like a dream on the icy roads with heated seats and the entire inner had the softest leather you’d ever felt. Tim had let you pick the rental at the luxury dealer. You were still too scared to drive it, $200,000 car! But being in the passenger seat was still pretty damn nice.

The resort was also beautiful beyond what you could imagine. It was one of those places where Tim’s wealth was only a little noteworthy. Tim couldn’t escape it. He’s the only surviving Drake and an heir to Bruce Wayne. Not to mention his various business pursues that were generally quite successful.

The hotel lobby was huge with twin fireplaces flanking a massive ornamental rug. A water feature was on the back wall behind the register that you both walked past to the elevators. Glass with gleaming silver, the elevator took you to the top floor.

The room was more like an apartment with a view of the mountains to kill for, huge wooden beams, a personal fireplace, and a small full kitchen. The bed was massive and there was both a stone shower and deep tub. It felt like giant cozy cabin.

Tim kissed your cheek and sat down your purchases on the bed. He went to the bathroom and turned on the bath. You gave him a slightly confused look. He was generally a shower kind of guy.

“We need to get you warmed up,” Tim said. He started pulling off his winter gear and tossed them in the hamper. “Wanna join me?”

“Of course, Timmy,” you said with a little smile. He was usually way too busy to do anything like this. You started taking your clothing off and joined him in the bathroom. Tim pulled you close.

He was almost overwhelming. You couldn’t think of anything else when you were with him. His fingers on your back, helping to pull your bra off, trailed hot on your skin. You could only stare into his ocean eyes.

Tim could barely handle the way you would look at him, like he was the world. He never felt like it was deserved but he couldn’t help but bask in your love and attention. He could only hope to deserve you by the way he treated you.

“Tim,” you breathed as he helped you into the tub with him. He sat with his back against the wall of the tub and you sat between his legs with your back leaned against his chest. The warm water had Tim’s skin pink and your flushed. It was so nice to finally be warm. Tim reached over to the stone windowsill next to the tub and lit the candle that sat waiting. Soft vanilla began to fill the room.

Tim slowly ran the warm water on your shoulders and neck leaving little goosebumps on your flesh. You leaned your head back against him, exposing your neck. Water droplets dances along your skin before being replaced with Tim’s lips.

He gently kissed your neck and up to your ear. You sighed and held onto his head with your hand. Tim reached his hand down in the water to touch between your legs. You moaned softly. His fingers dipped down to finger you properly. Your soft pants were the only sound in the room. After a few minutes you couldn’t handle it anymore and you turned in his arms to straddle Tim’s hips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said looking at you with only your new necklace on. You grinned shyly. Tim’s face held no lie and it was almost too much to look at. You kissed his jaw as you sunk on his cock. His face moved up to capture your lips.

The water of the tub sloshed and bounced as you moved. Tim’s hands moved across your body as if he was trying to memorize your skin. In some ways, he was. Tim had had flings and even a few relationships before you. But they were all part of his vigilante life. You weren’t part of it. You were sweet, pure, in his eyes. You lived, and you loved, and you made Tim so fucking happy. He was lost in you. Completely lost in the sauce.

Tim watched as your mouth fell open and your eyes closed. You moaned and whimpered. He was lost in your face as you came, whining as you clenched around him. Tim groaned before finding his own release. He held your back tightly. You leaned your forehead against his. His hair had fallen in front of his eyes and he had his eyes closed.

“Baby,” Tim whispered, hugging you tightly. Possessively. Protectively. You laid your head in the crook of his neck. You laid on him until the water cooled.

You barely dried off before climbing into the bed. You both laid facing each other and you buried your head into his chest, wrapping your leg around his. Tim wrapped his arms around you and fell asleep way earlier than he had in many years.

The next morning you woke up and was surprised that Tim was still there. He usually was always gone in the morning. He wasn’t the kind to leave a cold bed but rather someone who was practically married to the job. So you took it as a gift to be able to watch him sleep.

You could see little freckles on his nose and a scar along his chin. The little pout of his bottom lip in sleep had you smiling. The circles under his eyes were slowly disappearing the longer you spent on vacation. The way his floppy hair fell in his face was one of your favorite things to see, especially in the morning. He wasn’t Red Robin. He wasn’t a CEO. He was just Tim.

You moved a piece of hair from around his eyes and he wiggled in his sleep. You ran your fingers through his hair again. This time Tim hummed before opening his eyes.

“Morning Duckie,” you said. Tim pulled a little smile on his face before answering. He had found the nickname absolutely ridiculous but he actually kind of loved the way you said it. Only when no one was around. The thought of Dick, or heaven forbid Jason or Damian, hearing you say that was horrifying. The amount of blackmail material...

“Sunshine, what time is it?” Tim said frowning. He reached over you to grab his watch. “Shit!” He said jumping out of bed. You watched him dig through the dresser for clothing. Tim quickly threw on a suit in record time.

“Timmy, hold on,” you said standing before him. You ran your fingers through his hair and straightened his tie. He pulled you close by the waist and kissed you. Your nude frame seemed to pull him back in bed. Back to your body.

“I’ve got to go. I love you,” he said quickly grabbing his stuff. A meeting in an hour? He felt deeply unprepared. He had enjoyed himself too much. Got lost in you. He raced down to the conference room he had rented.

You slipped on Tim’s shirt from the night before. You looked at the room service menu before calling in an order for something absolutely indulgent. You were going to spend the day lazily exploring the resort before meeting back up with Tim in the evening for business drinks.

——————————

In the late afternoon you met Tim back at the room where you changed into a fancy cocktail party dress. He had changed into a different suit. It was all grey, perfectly fitted, with a salmon tie. His hair was lightly gelled to stay out of his eyes and Tim was chewing a breah mint.

“Is this alright?” You asked. You’d done a little schmoozing but never in a foreign country with international business. You felt a little bit out of water.

“Lovely, as always,” Tim said. “You look nervous. Don’t worry. I’ll steer conversation but just be polite, laugh, ask about their interests.”

“Sounds like date,” you said dryly. Tim adjusted your necklace so it laid straighter.

“Basically, sure. But a business date. If you hate it, you can always say you have a headache and go upstairs,” he suggested. But you knew that Tim really wanted you there. He felt more confident and it made him look a little older and more stable with a long term girlfriend by his side.

“I’ll be fine. Just don’t leave me with anyone,” you said. Tim grabbed your hand and gave you a little smile.

“Never,” he said hoping he was right.

Fancy cocktails and small bites of food circulated the room. Men in business suits and women in, frankly tiny, dresses milled around talking. You held Tim’s hand tightly, a glass of champagne clutched in your other hand.

“Mr Muller, it’s good to see you,” Tim said offering the older man a hand shake. An investment banker with multiple connections all over Europe that was currently interested in investing in electronic prosthetic research. He had partially funded a few of WE’s more experimental projects.

“Young Mr Wayne, and your lovely date. I am Simon Muller, Muller Incorporated,” the man said offering his hand to you that you shook. Tim introduced you to the man.

“I have heard rumors that this year was good for Wayne Enterprise,” Mr Muller said with a knowing look. Of course he knew that. Everyone here knew that.

“We’ve been prosperous. Muller Incorporated had some success in stem cell based vaccine research. I saw in Scientific Monthly,” Tim commented.

“Yes, yes, business is well,” Mr Muller said dismissively. He wanted to Schmooz Tim apparently. “How is your father, Bruce?”

“Bruce should be arriving soon actually. He mentioned that he’d like to speak to you about next quarter’s investment. He sounded like it was something quite promising,” Tim teased. Of course, he knew exactly what Bruce was going to talk about. But what was the fun in spilling the beans?

“I can’t wait to hear it. I’m sure we are boring your beautiful companion,” Mr Muller said turning towards you. “Have you been to the Alps before?”

“I haven’t. It’s very beautiful here,” you said with a little smile. “We came a few days early to enjoy some time off.” You threaded your fingers with Tim’s and smiled up at him. It had been some of the best days of your life.

“That sounds quite lovely. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but your necklace and earrings are spectacular. Where did you get them,” Mr Muller asked. You touched the chain of the necklace automatically.

“They were a gift,” you said and a pleased smile crept on your face despite yourself. Tim had really spoiled you when he bought these.

“From young Mr Wayne,” Mr Muller prompted.

“Yes, Duckie got them for me,” you said without thinking. Only once the words were out of your mouth did you realize your flub. You had called the CEO of Wayne Enterprise ‘Duckie’ in front of an investor. Your eyes widened and Tim blinked a tad too slowly.

The man looked between you both before laughing loudly. “I love it. Well ‘Duckie’ certainly seems to spoil his lovely companion. Ah- here’s your father. Bruce old man! How are you?”

“I’m good. Duckie,” Bruce said with a nod to Tim who was glowing red. What made it all the worse was 15 year old Damian with a smile that pulled his mouth wide. He seemed gleeful.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered in Tim’s ear. He simply squeezed your hand in response.

Bruce and Mr Muller walked away talking about business. Damian stayed and seemed to almost burst with things he wanted to say.

“Quack quack? You know I’ve already sent a message to Richard and Jason?” Damian said.

“Yeah yeah,” Tim said. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

“Let’s get a drink,” Tim said pulling you away from Damian. Damian laughed before walking to Bruce. Tim got a whiskey and took a second to compose himself before going back to the party.

After the party, you went back up to your room. It had gone well the rest of the night but you couldn’t help but feel awful. You’d made Tim look foolish in front of an investor, his father, and younger brother who was looking for ways to tease him.

“Tim, I’m so sorry about calling you Duckie in front of everyone. It was just a slip,” you said softly as Tim kicked his shoes off. He looked up at your face and walked over to you.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean to do it. And Mr Muller thought it was funny,” Tim said pulling you into a hug. “Everything went fine.”

“Yeah but Bruce and Damian heard too,” you said looking at the ground. “And Damian will never let it die.”

“Don’t worry about that twerp. I’ll just remind him that he’s never had a girlfriend,” Tim said with a smile. He kissed your forehead and when you wouldn’t look up, he pulled you gently by the chin to face him.

“Seriously sunshine, don’t feel bad for another second. Let’s get you out of those shoes and your makeup. It’s late and I want to lay in bed with my sweet girlfriend,” he said.

You felt so bad as you laid down with him. Tim ran his hands along your back as he always did. It made it all the worse that it was the last day at the resort. You’d hurt the image he was trying to maintain of a serious man. Being young with a baby face, it was a hard task. Tomorrow you would fly back to Gotham and Tim would be working like a manic every day. You didn’t have enough time to make it up to him.

Finally Tim fell asleep before you did. You just stared at the wall for hours. It was sometimes a thing you felt, that you weren’t enough. Tim’s social, political, and economic status was intimidating. How could you possibly be good enough when he could have anything? Fucking up a business party certainly didn’t help. You hugged him tighter, worried he’d get smart and leave you.

The next morning, Tim’s alarm woke you both up. He noticed that instead of being in his arms, you were sleeping on the other side of the bed away from him. He frowned before sliding towards you.

“Sweetheart, sunshine,” Tim said tapping your shoulder. “We have to get dressed so we can make our flight.”

You rolled out of bed and threw on comfortable clothes. Your smile was a little less warm than usual and you weren’t as affectionate as usual. Tim noticed but ignored it as he didn’t have the time to talk to you before the flight anyways.

Onboard in first class, Tim had to reach over to grab your hand before take off. His brows furrowed a little at your lack of touch. It wasn’t until the plane was cruising that he decided to talk about it.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asked. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand softly.

“Nothing,” you said with a bare smile.

“You’re lying. You’re upset about the party. You know nothing happened right? I didn’t get in trouble. I’m not mad at you,” Tim said.

“I know,” and it wasn’t nickname at the party. That was ridiculous. The party triggered an insecurity that you could usually dampen down but never get rid of. You felt like you weren’t good enough. That was it. And no matter how many times Tim reassured you, ther were too many zeros of the wrong kind in your bank account and not enough skills in your hands. You didn’t fit into Tim’s world. Either of them.

“It’s not the party. Not really. It’s you,” you said softly. Tim’s eyebrows jumped up.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing. You’re perfect. I- I’m not a rich pretty socialite or a tough strong vigilante,” you said in a whisper. “I feel like I’m- im not good enough.” You wouldn’t look Tim in the eyes. He climbed out of his seat and knelt beside you. His hands cupped your face and his thumbs stroked your cheeks.

“I’m far from perfect. And you’re worth 10 socialites or vigilantes. You aren’t vapid and your hands are clean. You’re so good. Like so goddamn good. Sometimes I worry you’ll smart up and go with someone uncomplicated. Who can make it to every date. No secrets. Sunshine, I wouldn’t consider anyone else. One little word slipped at one event can’t take away anything. Please smile,” Tim pleaded. The corner of your lip pulled up but you couldn’t smile.

“Please. I’ll stay here until my legs fall asleep and it’ll get awkward. People will think I’m proposing but really I can’t move,” Tim said and you smiled. “That’s my girl. Such a pretty smile. Have I mentioned that my girlfriend is cute?”

You laughed and he reached up to give you a little kiss. “Let’s watch a movie. We can turn the sound off and pretend to know what they are saying.”

“Sure,” you said. Tim sat back down but kept his hand in yours. Occasionally he pulled your hands up to his lip softly as the movie played.

“I’ll stop calling you Duckie. That way I won’t slip again,” you said.

“Absolutely not. I’d wear a name tag that says Duckie before I make you stop,” Tim said watching the movie. You couldn’t help but have a grin from that one.

[jacks-wylan]

Follow me home

Here’s my @thewitchersecretsanta for @itsmajel. Sorry for the late, darling! I hope you like it, even if it’s not what I had in mind at first and rushed a bit at the end (life got in the way sobs). Still, i hope you appreciate geralt and jaskier being horse girls, the almost-not-fake-marriage and a little cameo of Valdo Marx that does nothing at all (but come on, everyone wants Valdo to be present at Jaskier’s wedding right?)

                                      ❀

The missive is delivered right in his hand one fine morning, at the start of spring. Geralt is minding his own business, sipping a piss–tasting ale in the darkest corner of a tavern in Oxenfurt, and he's waiting for his bard to deign him of his flamboyant presence as he has done for almost twenty years now.

Jaskier is late, though, and Geralt can't help but frown, worried, when a boy – a young boy, dressed in a rich uniform – bows to him and calls him Sir Witcher, handing him the letter. To be honest, the whole gesture scares him: no one ever bowed to him before.

When he opens the missive, Geralt sighs, recognizing immediately Jaskier's flourish handwriting.

“My dearest friend,” he reads, and that is not a good sign. “If I only try to write the real reason of my absence there by your side in Oxenfurt, a single parchment would not be enough, and I am quite sure you would not even read the whole ordeal, ignoring my request of aid. Once you reach for me here in my birthplace, I will explain everything. Please, my friend, I beg you to come here in Lettenhove as soon as possible. I don't have much time left.” Geralt blinks, “What the fuck.”

Geralt feels his heart dropping down in his stomach, dread pooling there as he scrambles up from the chair, grabs his swords, leaves some coins on the table, and runs outside. He doesn't even mind the next words written in the missive, the gentle, “Yours always, Jaskier.”

He just puts the already crumpled piece of parchment in Roach's saddlebag, hops on the horse, and heads towards Lettenhove – ignoring the shouts of the same boy that has delivered the missive. He knows the way, he doesn't fucking need company, and also, whoever he was he would just slow him down.

And Jaskier hasn't much time left.

He rides for a day and a half, avoiding inns and taverns, sleeping just when needed. He follows the seashore, remembering from conversation that Geralt pretended to ignore that Jaskier passed his childhood bathing in salty waters, breathing fish–smelling air. He remembers that whenever he played in Kerack courts, he always said that it felt like home.

Jaskier never once mentioned Lettenhove, though.

Geralt arrives in Lettenhove by twilight. It's a cheerful city, decorated for a festivity he has no knowledge of. There is a bonfire in the middle of the marketplace, already lit, with some people dancing and drinking wine around it, children laughing and screaming as they play catch. He watches around, in search of a familiar colorful figure, but he sees nothing of importance, so he heads toward the nearest tavern, set on asking every single soul if they know anything of Jaskier the Bard.

He growls at the stableboy, when he takes Roach's reins from his hands. “You know of a bard around here?” he asks the boy, helping him take the saddle off Roach.

The boy nods, guarded, “Well, yes! A bard is going to play tomorrow, for the wedding!”

“Wedding?”

“Don't you know, sir?” the boy cocks his head to the side, watching him from the other side of Roach. Another one that calls him sir, that's kind of creepy. “The long lost Viscount is finally going to marry tomorrow! That's why we are all celebrating.”

Geralt hums. Jaskier probably has been called to play at his birthplace court, and he needs assistance for this. Maybe one of the many ladies he loves is the future bride of the Viscount, who probably Jaskier hates for no reason at all, and for this Jaskier has brought misfortune upon his head: what if he's imprisoned? What if tomorrow, instead of his performance, Jaskier will be hanged beside the bonfire because he fucked the wrong maiden?

Damn him and his cock, “And this bard, you remember his name?”

“No, sir. I'm just a stableboy.” the boy shrugs, “Don't know who're the lord's hosts. But I got a glimpse of him when he came the other day, and he's really...” he scrunches his young face, “Excessive.”

Gods, yes. That's definitively Jaskier.

Geralt nods as a thanks, trying not to think about the the worst, and heads towards the inn. It's not the first time Geralt has to pay for Jaskier's debt in order to take him out of prison, and it's definitely not the first time he has to help Jaskier escape from imprisonment, and yet, now something seems... off. Geralt can't quite pinpoint what, though.

He eats soup, and drinks water. No one is looking at him feed himself alone at a table, too busy in the wedding's arrangements to pay attention to a lonely Witcher – as weird as it is. He takes a room, and the innkeeper doesn't grimace nor make him pay more while handing him the key, and it's probably the merry time around that makes all this people happy and all, but it still feels so damn strange.

“We will tell the Viscount of your arrival!” says the innkeeper, as he goes upstairs. Geralt just shrugs: he doesn't know why, and he doesn't care. If they have a job for him, he can ask Jaskier's freedom as a payment, at least.

For now, he just drops his belongings on the floor next to his bed, and lays on it to try gaining some sleep. Tomorrow, whatever happens, surely Geralt has to fight against something – be it a drowner or two, or a regiment of soldiers.

The next day, Geralt wakes up with someone stomping as they run up the stairs, stopping in front of his door and knocking loudly, too loudly. He groans, and glancing at the window he left open the night before, he notices that it's barely dawn – he has a half mind to just ignore the nuisance and go back to sleep, but he suddenly remember why he finds himself in Lettenhove in the first place and thinks better of it.

Slowly, he gets up, passing a hand on his eyes to wipe the sleep away, and the person on the other side of the door hasn't enough patience nor time, this morning, because they knock again and shout: “Geralt! Open up, I know you're awake, you oaf!”

Geralt blinks. That voice is definitely Jaskier's.

He walks to the door and unlocks it. Immediately, Jaskier pushes the handle, and if Geralt wasn't a fucking Witcher with quite good reflexes, the angle of the door would have definitely hit his forehead. Not a great start, for the day, it would be. “Geralt! My darling friend! You are here just in time!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt says, calmly. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What does it mean, what the fuck I am doing here?” Jaskier passes under his raised arm to enter inside his room, in his hand a heavy bag from where a mouth–watering smell comes. “That was I that called you here, remember? I believe you got my letter. I brought breakfast!”

Geralt grits his teeth, following him as he makes himself at home. “Yes, that's why I don't understand why you aren't in prison.”

Jaskier frowns, as he puts fruits and sweet rolls out of the bag. “I totally have no idea why you think I should be in prison right now.”

“You little– here, look.” Geralt grabs his satchel and takes out Jaskier's letter, showing him the peculiar words he'd chosen. “Please, my friend, I beg you to come here in Lettenhove as soon as possible. I don't have much time left.” he reads with a growl. Gods, seeing him here safe and sound is a relief, but he feels like he's been mocked, and it irritates him. “I though you were in danger, Jaskier, so I came here– wait, why you signed it...? Yours always...?”

Jaskier tears the letter off his hands, a panicked expression twisting his face, “It was in the heat of the moment, alright? I though I was gonna die any day without you – I mean, without your help to take me out of this mess. Don't mind it!” he folds the letter and puts it in his silk trouser's pocket. “Anyway, I think that explanations are in order.”

“You think?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. Then, he motions at the food he's served on the bed, “In the meantime, eat. The tale is long, and kinda boring.” Once Geralt is seated on the floor by the bed, a sweet roll in his mouth, Jaskier seems to be enough satisfied to start explaining. He does it with a huff, blowing a strand of hair away from his eyes – and Geralt no, he has totally not followed the motion with barely concealed awe, “My friend, before your arrival, I really thought this would have been the end for me. You are my only hope to make it out alive.”

“What have you done?” Geralt asks, flatly.

“Absolutely nothing – apart being born. You see, my darling Witcher, there are things that are... expected from me. My father actually pretends those things that I, no, I totally refuse to do. One of those things, is marring a completely unknown rich woman just for the sake of... you know, I really don't know why. Perhaps is because people will now stop spreading rumors about me, or worse yet because my father expects an, ugh, an heir. From me! My sister gave birth last summer, and he still expects me to have an heir! Isn't one enough, I wonder? How many heirs a Count needs, to be in peace with himself? It's really beyond my comprehension.”

“Jaskier, wait.” Geralt almost chokes on the sweet roll he is swallowing at Jaskier's words. Did he hear it right? Is he talking about marriage and children? Is he really Jaskier the man in front of him, or he's a doppler trying to fuck up with him? “The wedding is yours?” he asks, and that was really the last of his worries, but evidently all his mind and mouth were able to elaborate is just that.

“Unfortunately, yes. Thank all the Gods that you are here just in time, Geralt! One more day, and it would have been one day too late.” Jaskier walks towards the window, and looks down at the decorations with a dreadful grimace pulling his mouth. “Can you believe that hateful man how far is gone with this farce? With this charade? Hell, he even called the worst bard of the entire Continent to play during the banquet!” he sniffs, outraged. “But you're here! I shouldn't have doubted you! I have a plan to make all of this blown up, and you are the centerpiece of it.”

“The stableboy mentioned this bard. I thought it was you, by his description.”

Jaskier gapes, widening his big, blue eyes in a comical way, “Sad that he's gonna lose his job for this! Gods, how dares he compare me to that... that scoundrel–”

Geralt shakes his head, an amused smile tugging his lips. He's gonna admit it, he feels mostly confused by the stream of words coming out of Jaskier, as always. He just understands that he has an important role in his plan to not get married, and he guesses that he will help him regardless of his motives. Jaskier is... a free spirit. Geralt can't see him married off with someone, unless his wife–to–be is alright in never see him again because he'll be too busy walk the Path with him.

Hm. That is why the thought of Jaskier married is so foreign, so strange, so unbelievable? Because that would mean Geralt will never have him around again, in that case?

Geralt frowns, and raises his eyes to look how the bard is still muttering offenses against the young stableboy, “Isn't the Viscount the one who's gonna get married?”

“Yes, 'tis I, Julian Alfred Pankratz, the willingly estranged Viscount that has finally returned home to his so boring obligations and blah blah blah.” Jaskier motions in the air with his hand. Then, he blinks, looking down at Geralt, “I did never tell you this, didn't I?”

“That you were a fucking Viscount? No, Jaskier.” says Geralt, and he knows that he's able to conceal the bitterness in his voice – and yet, considering the guilty faces Jaskier is making, he probably didn't do it right this time.

“I beg for your forgiveness, my friend. I never told you this not because I don't trust you, because I do. You know that, and never doubt it again.” Jaskier sighs, and finally he walks away from the window to sit next to him on the floor, “It's just that... I always run away from this life, even in my mind it's always been like I've never lived here before, never borne here, that there weren't people waiting for me to stop being egoistical and take my responsibilities. This is the reason I never mentioned it before, you have nothing to do with that.”

Geralt can understands this, and he'd be too hypocritical of him to say that he doesn't do the same – he, too, runs away from unwanted, from scaring, responsibilities. So he just nods, and Jaskier smiles, relieved.

“I bet you are wondering why I am here, then. Why I don't run away from here once again.”

“I bet you're gonna tell me anyway.”

Jaskier gasps, a hand dramatically posed on his lips, “That I'll do! How did you know that?” he chuckles, then gets quiet. “Mhh, well, it's for another egoistical reason. I'm just tired to run away from... from what is my home, after all, I hate it or not, it still is. My mother died this summer, and I wasn't here to give her one last kiss. Actually, I don't ever remember the last time I've seen her, and now all I have is a grave.” he shrugs, as if he doesn't even care. Geralt can smell, though, in his scent, a touch of sadness, and regret. “My sister gave birth to the chubbiest baby I've ever met in my entire life, and I wasn't here for her. I wasn't here for her for her wedding either. What I'm trying to say, Geralt, is that I want too much to be free to also come here, just once in a while, to bring present to my nephew and lay flowers on my mother's tomb.”

Geralt clears his throat, slightly uncomfortable, “I'm sorry for your mother.”

“Don't be. Last time I've seen her, I was eighteen. My sister almost didn't remember my face, when I came here a couple of months ago.”

Geralt hums, and grabs an apple. “So, this plan?”

“Yes, the plan.” Jaskier claps his hands, and absentmindedly accepts the apple Geralt is handing him. “Today is the wedding day, and I'm going to meet the lovely lady my father has chosen for me, but! Listen this, because you will totally praise my brilliant mind this time.” he takes a bite at the apple, munching with fervor as he tries to gather the words to explain his so brilliant plan, and Geralt feels a smile tugging at his lips at the sight. He's ridiculous. Geralt is, too, obviously. “I organized a horse race.”

Geralt frowns, “Good.”

“It'll make sense, hear me out. I somehow convinced my father to accept this my... caprice. He thinks that it is just to entertain the guests, but I made very clear that it will be the winner who's gonna marry me! At this point, I guess my father doesn't really care who will be my bride, as long as I'll be married once and for all. And, and,” he stops Geralt before he could ask clarifications with a finger closing his lips, “I will participate. You will do in my behalf, of course, you know I can't ride a horse for shit, and I am so sure that Roach will make the other horses eat her dust! I will win the race, and I'm gonna marry myself.”

“That's...”

“Brilliant?”

“Stupid. It will never work.”

“Whaaat?” Jaskier pouts, crossing his arms against his chest, “Why? It has to work!”

Geralt knows that nobles gets embarrassingly excited by these kind of things – the scoops, the scandals, and whatever they comports – but he doesn't think that a scam like this will work. Not that Geralt knows his father at all, in what way he's going to react at Jaskier's, hm, trap, but if he really wants Jaskier married and soon–to–be–father, he won't surely accept the whole 'I won at a game so I will marry myself' thing.

Hence, this is stupid. But looking at the sad pout on Jaskier's face, Geralt can't find in himself the power to tell him that his plan has all kinds of holes in it. So, he mutters, “If... if you're sure about it.”

“I am! So, you're on?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course,” Jaskier rolls his eyes, fondly, as he does every time Geralt says something uncalled for. “You always have a choice, my dear. After all, there will be a lot of nobles, a lot of meaningless chatters, a lot of stabbing behind the backs, a lot of songs from a terribly bard. I wouldn't wish it even to my worst enemy. Well, sure, without your help I'd die within the day, slicing my own throat with a cutlery out of desperation and boredom, but this is not a forcing towards you by any means.”

Geralt smacks his shoulder, and Jaskier shrieks an amused ouch, massaging the hit spot. Put like this, he no, he really doesn't have a choice. How could he leave him be, when Jaskier is looking at him with those puppy eyes, with his lower lip slightly protruding, with those desperate words about his demise?

Well, he knew that he wouldn't have any choice since he received his letter back in Oxenfurt.

“Fine.” he sighs, then, “What do I have to do?”

“Nothing too complicated, darling. You just have to be faster than my... fiance's horse. Actually, I think Roach would do most the work. Never joined a horse race before?”

“Have you ever seen me in one?” he asks, rhetorically. No one would challenge him in anything, nor offer him to join a competition that, usually, is for noble's entertainment, so it's naive of Jaskier to ask something like this. But Geralt knows that Jaskier, most of the time, doesn't fully comprehend how people take Geralt at arm's length, and gets mad when he witnesses the – maybe deserved, maybe not – cruelty they have towards him.

“No, but maybe you have in my absence. Who knows what you do when I'm not around!”

“I do what I always do, Jaskier. I walk the Path, I fight, and I try to survive. I have no time for games.”

Jaskier scrunches his face, clearly discontent of his words, “So unfair.”

It doesn't matter if it's fair or unfair, it's still Geralt's life, and Jaskier needs to understand that nothing will ever change, no matter the fact that he doesn't like it and he deems it humanly wrong.

So Geralt doesn't respond, and a quiet silence falls on them whilst they finish their breakfast. Jaskier wipes away the apple juice from his mouth with the hem of his luxurious chemise, and the gesture is so little nobility that Geralt still doesn't believe the fact that in front of him there is a Viscount. That the bard that followed him for almost two decades is a Viscount – and he had no clue at all.

Jaskier winces and grimaces, when people start to shout and sing and claps from the roads outside. “We need to go. My wife–to–be is probably arrived.” he rolls his eyes, raising from the floor and reaching out to help him do the same. “I bet my precious lute that she is as unhappy as me about this arrangement. Gods, I don't even know her name! She probably doesn't know mine either! This is bullshit.”

Grabbing his stretched hand, Geralt prepares himself to what's about to happen.

He doesn't have a good feeling about this.

Jaskier's fiance is flawless, with a curved body and straight blond hair. She's not a teenager as Pavetta was during her wedding – the only banquet Geralt has ever participated, and he's for the first time in all his long life praying that this won't end like hers ended – and she walks with her chin held high, an expressionless stare pointed in front of her. Maybe it's her face, but Geralt thinks that Jaskier is probably right, and she's as unhappy as he is in this whole situation. After all, a lot of years passed since Jaskier was twenty and ready – for his father, at least – to get married: she has probably found someone else to love in Jaskier's absence, because her brown, stricken eyes resemble so much Pavetta's.

Well, Geralt thinks. Maybe Jaskier's plans will work, if he has his fiance's support.

Geralt watches as Jaskier and his fiance's meet for the first time in the farthest corner of the main square, with Roach neighing quietly next to him. Jaskier's eyes are full of pity, as he, with a sweet, small smile, kisses the back of her hand, so lightly that his lips doesn't even touch her sun–kissed skin. They don't exchange words apart for empty pleasantries, and Geralt feels an hollow inside of him at the sight.

He doesn't want a meaningless, unloved marriage for Jaskier.

He nudges Roach forward as the cheerful crowd follows the soon–to–be–wed couple to the magnificent palace at the end of the main road. He doesn't think Geralt will be welcomed there inside, no matter what Jaskier wants – he is too busy with his father and fiance, right now, to mind his comfort – but he thinks that, at least, he can go in the Pankratz's stables, considering that Roach will be one of the horses that will compete.

He is surprised, though, to find a servant in there that shows him the way inside the palace, indicating him where to go to the chambers allocated to him. He's too confused to try asking for explanations, and too stunned to growl at the stableman as he takes Roach's reins from his hands.

Maids prepare him a bath, and new, perfumed clothes are brought to him. Geralt doesn't feel enough relaxed to take off his armor and stay only with the clothes Jaskier – obviously – sent to him, so when he heads to the stables again, he tries to ignores the confused stares from servants and maids as he walks the corridors with frilly, clean clothes under his stained, clearly old armor.

In the stable, he finds himself to be surprised again, when he sees Jaskier nuzzling Roach's nose, hugging her neck from time to time as he murmurs sweet nothings in her flicking ears. “You will be my forever heroin, Roach, if you win this race. I know, I know, it's child's play for you, my horses – or, everyone's horses, don't get so offended, Gods – are snails compared to you, my girl. Still, you have to give all your might, regardless of the incompetence of others.”

Roach snorts, and tries to bite Jaskier's fingers. Geralt suffocates a laugh just to not interrupt whatever is going on between her and Jaskier.

Jaskier gasps, but the idiot doesn't take his hands off the horse, “You're so touchy! I didn't say that you are incompetent! Gods, sometimes you are worst than your owner. Ohw! I said sometimes!” his words are followed by a couple of kisses on her muzzle that she tries to shy away from – with not much force, though. Geralt knows that Roach is totally able to headbutt Jaskier out of her way, if she really wants to. “Anyway, what I meant, you prickly horse, is that mistakes are not allowed. Not if you still want me run after you throughout the Continent! And I know you want me. Who else is gonna give you this, if not me?” he asks, taking a small sugar cube from his pocket.

Roach stops stomping her foot on the ground, suddenly very docile.

“Yeah, I know. If you help me, dear girl, I will give you a whole bag full of your favorite treats. All for you, to eat all at once if you wish!”

“Are you done spoiling my horse?”

Jaskier jumps and a bunch of sugar cubes falls from his closed palm, “Holy shit, Geralt, do you perhaps want me to have a heart attack? You almost succeeded here!”

“Dramatic.”

“I'm serious, Gods.” Jaskier leans on Roach hugging her with an arm, and she doesn't mind at all, too busy eating all the treats fallen on the dusty ground. His other hands is posed against his chest, at the height of the heart. “That's why Roach is my favorite: she at least huffs and snorts to make her presence known.”

Geralt caresses Roach's neck, and her ears flick in acknowledgment. “Trying to bribe her won't work.”

Jaskier pouts, and frowns at the now clean ground where just second before the treats he brought for Roach laid, “It was working before you interrupted so rudely. By the way, did you rest? I see you changed with the clothes I had sent to you. They are really nice on you, I have to admit, but, dear, you don't need your armor in a horse race.”

“You will never know.”

Jaskier raises an eyebrow at him, “Aaand that's why you are the wise one between us. Uhm, I'm gonna buy you a new armor, though. This one is falling to pieces.”

“You don't have to buy me anything, Jaskier.” Geralt sighs, and drops his eyes off Jaskier to pay attention to Roach, distract himself in adjusting her saddle and controlling her shoes. If she has to race, she has to have all the needed comforts – in no way Geralt would ride her with a broken shoe or a loose saddle.

“But I want to! Whatever. You are saving my life, it's the least I can do. Money won't be a problem at all, on the contrary: for the first time, my father's money – also mine, I'd like to stress – would be finally used for something useful. He spends all our wealth in women and wine, the old fucker!”

Geralt almost says that put it like this, Jaskier isn't so different from his father, but he thinks better of it. So he just hums, letting him continue blabbing about the disgraceful ways his father lives even before his mother's death.

He really has a lot to say regarding this argument. Distractedly, Geralt wonders if Jaskier will remember that they have a horse race to win before it's too late, or if he'll be too preoccupied in blaming his father for all his bad habits to notice the hours pass. He will probably find himself already married the moment he'll finally stop talking.

Suddenly, Jaskier claps his hands, “Now, Geralt, we have to go, we wasted enough time in chitchats. I already talked to my father, and he knows that you will be the other participant. You are competing against the best knight serving my fiance's family – I didn't even bother learning his name.”

“Do you at least know your fiance's name, now?”

“Yes, but I want to forget, as she wants to forget mine. We want absolutely nothing do to with each other, and believe me, for the first time in my entire life, I'm relieved to know that someone hates me.” Jaskier shrugs, and takes his hand in his, tightening slightly his long fingers around his much larger palm. For a second, he gets distracted by the casual gesture: he will never comprehend how a man's touch can be so warm, how can it make his skin tingle so strangely and yet so pleasurably. “Let's go now, I want to show you where the racecourse is located. It's a circular racetrack, really, the horses have to run around the stands where my family and my fiance's family will be to watch the... the challenge, and the first one that reaches the starting point is the winner.” he sniffs, “I feel strange, Gods, I'm starting to feel anxious. Don't get me wrong, I know you are going to win without any doubt, but I can't get out of my mind the feeling that something will go irremediably wrong.”

Geralt has the same feeling since the very beginning, but he just follows Jaskier silently out of the stable after giving Roach a see–you–later kiss on her muzzle. He doesn't add anything more to Jaskier's worries, and he mostly ignores the townsfolk that stop them on their way to the racetrack, giving Jaskier gifts as small bouquets of wildflowers and flower crowns.

A young girl tries to give him one too, and Geralt almost panicked as he crouches before her and she puts the too small crown on his head. Her mother doesn't even try to snatch her away from him, and Geralt supposes that it's thanks to Jaskier's influence. The whole town is acting as he is just one of the many guests came here for the wedding.

Thankfully, Jaskier doesn't comment Geralt awkwardness.

Jaskier shows the racecourse when they finally reach it, situated in a dusty clearing just out of town. Geralt doesn't care as Jaskier starts telling him how the workers have built this in no more than a week time, but he is particularly aware of Jaskier's hand still closed tight around his.

Jaskier stops midsentence when a sudden strum of a lute echoes around the empty racecourse, and the disturbing scent of anger and disgust coming off Jaskier imbues his senses. They both raise they stares and up on the stands, seated there with no care at all with a lute posed on his lap, there is a bard, apparently.

“What the hell is he doing here?!” Jaskier fumes, and if only stares could kill, the bard would be dust on the ground. “Hey! What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Practicing for you wedding, Julian.” the bard answers, throwing them an amused grin, “There's chaos out there, and talent needs tranquility to reach its peak. Speaking of, why are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back in your chambers to get ready for your grand day?”

Jaskier stomps a foot on the ground, petulantly, “There will be no grand day! Get out of my way!”

“I won't be so sure of myself in your place, Julian. I am sure that someone has distorted your request about this race, and all of this is going to blow out in your funny face. But I am your servant today, so, as the lord commands.” the bard bows with a hand posed against his chest, then hops down the stands and disappears back towards town, as Jaskier's face becomes purple with anger.

Geralt asks, “Who is he?”

“My worst enemy, my recurrent nightmare, my crux and disgrace.” Jaskier passes a hand through his hair, “So, no one you needed to meet, no one important to know.” with a frown, he looks up the sky, a hand shadowing his eyes against the shining sun. “It's almost midday. It's a matter of time for the guests to start to arrive. Geralt, my friend.” Jaskier turns to him and, sadly, his hand leaves the grip on his. “I need to go. Win this race, and I'll be forever yours.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow.

“Forever in your debt, I meant!” Jaskier shrieks, red in face, as he runs away the same way the bard disappeared, a cloud of dust raising from his feet in the haste of it.

With a resigned snort, Geralt turns around to go to Roach and get her ready for the race.

But the bard's words keep swirling inside his head, amplifying the bad feeling about Jaskier's plan: I am sure that someone has distorted your request about this race, and all of this is going to blow out in your funny face.

Well.

The stands are full the moment Geralt comes back at the racecourse with Roach trotting happily next to him. Jaskier is there with his family, seated at the center of it, at one of his side an older man that is his spitting image if not for the gray hair and serious expression, the other his fiance.

A young lady with a chubby baby sits beside his father, and even if she doesn't resemble Jaskier a lot, Geralt thinks that she's the sister he talked about.

Geralt is welcomed with a grand applause, followed by another when a knight in a white armor, riding a equally white stallion – the irony – takes place next to him at the starting point. They give him a thumbs up as Jaskier's father is shouting the rules and the motives of this sudden, at his saying uncalled for, race from his position.

As he talks, Geralt looks at Jaskier. He has a stricken expression twisting the usually smooth lines of his face, a vein popping on his forehead as the same bard they met before sings and strums behind him. He's not relaxed at all, even though he said that he is not afraid of Geralt to lose the race. So, why so tense?

The bed feeling intensifies.

Geralt caresses Roach's neck as she snorts, a bit annoyed by the cheerful crowd around them. He murmurs words of comfort, not dissimilar to the ones Jaskier told her in the stables whilst trying to bribe her – that is, until Jaskier's father shouts to them to get ready and in position.

There is a short countdown, and Roach tenses.

When the “Go!” is shouted, Roach runs. It's blurry after that, all Geralt can see – even with his enhanced senses – is just the road in front of them, all his – theirs – attention is to win this competition and get over with all of this.

He hears the stallion behind him, and Roach cleverly, with his guidance, gets in front of it to block its way, so it can't go past her and it's forced to slow down like this.

Clever, clever girl. A wave of pride overwhelms him, and he's sure that also Jaskier, up where he is enjoying the show, is feeling the same way.

Obviously, he and Roach are the first to cross the finish line, and everyone around them shout and scream and cheer the winner – and considering that it's Geralt the winner, it feels so strange. He drops off Roach and she seems to balks at the praises the people are shouting at her and at her clever talent, stomping her feet at the ground and neighing happily. She even trots around herself, in a very funny dance. Somewhere behind him, Jaskier's laugh trills, louder than any cheer.

The knight drops down their stallion too and gets closer to him. They takes off their helmet and Geralt is surprised to see that his challenger is a beautiful woman, with cropped short hair and a satisfied grin on her sweaty face. She stretches an arm towards him to shake their hands, before going.

“Father!” Geralt hears Jaskier say out loud. Raising his eyes, Geralt sees him standing in front of his father, excitement written on his face. Next to him, his fiance has finally lost her stricken face, and she seems so relieved that she just stays seated there, with eyes closed, and a hand against her heart. “My challenger has won. So it means I won!”

“Yes, my son. The Witcher has won.” repeats his father, calmly.

“Exactly. So I can marry my–”

“Your Witcher. You can marry him. It's what you were after since the beginning, weren't you?”

Jaskier inhales sharply, dropping his mouth wide open. “W–Wh–w–whha–”

The bard bursts out laughing, almost falling down on his butt.

Geralt panics, and hopes he did hear wrong for the first time in his life. He looks at Jaskier, waiting for something, anything that would hint him their next move, but Jaskier seems to be turned into a stone, eyes growing distant.

“I won, father.” he says, in the end, with a thin voice. “I've got to chose, now.”

“No, the Witcher has won, Julian. And you did chose: it was you that organized all of this and let the Witcher participate.” his father says, candidly. Then, he turns towards Geralt, the blue eyes that so much resembles his son's looking down at him with no particular emotion hidden behind them, “So, Witcher. Will you merry my son?”

Geralt is still panicking, sadly. That's why he says, “Yes..?” right before biting his tongue.

Jaskier winces as if slapped. His ex–fiance is looking at the scene with a curious gaze.

The bard is still laughing his arse off somewhere on the ground.

When Jaskier's father claps his hands and orders his servant to take Geralt back to the palace so he can get ready for tonight ceremony, it all clicks in Geralt's mind.

He's fucked.

Three hours later, the sun is almost setting down over the horizon, and Geralt finds himself in his chambers, in front of a mirror, trying to close the white doublet the maids brought to him.

He's angry, and not just because the buttons have no intentions to stay put. He's angry because he doesn't like at all the situation he's finding himself in, and he's even banned from going to see Jaskier wherever he is right now, to ask for explanations, to at least know how is he supposed to do to take them both out of this mess.

He feels like relaxing a bit, though, when he hears familiar steps approaching his door. “Come in,” he says even before Jaskier tries to knock.

Geralt hears a sigh, then opens his door with the utmost care as if scared to make even the smallest of the noises. When the door clicks shut behind him, Jaskier finally raises his eyes to meet his stare on the mirror. “Geralt, I–” he blinks, “Wow. You are quite a sight in white.”

Geralt just snorts, fuming. He gives up trying to close the buttons of the doublet to turn toward Jaskier with a dark glare, arms crossed against his chest, and the strange twinkling inside Jaskier's eyes dim, walking closer to him with a subdued posture. “Geralt... uh, are you mad at me?”

Geralt sighs. And, as always happens, he can't stay mad at him for too long: especially if he looks at him with those puppy eyes, so expressive that they seem to beg more than his mouth could ever do. “No.”

“Oh thank the Gods. I am so, so sorry, Geralt, it wasn't supposed to go like this! I mean, I am actually really surprised that you said yes to my father when he asked you if you wanted to marry me, but–”

“I didn't know what to say!”

“I know, calm down! It's okay, really, I already made up a new plan.” Jaskier says, excited.

“This doesn't make me feel better.”

“Miscreant!” Jaskier huffs, the gets closer and starts ruffling with his clothes, closing the buttons of his doublet and straightening the wrinkles, “I understand that the simpler plan is the most effective. You just have to say I don't, when the Melitele's priestess will tell the vows and ask you again if you want to marry me. The ceremony will be very brief, you don't have to worry about this, considering the little time we had, so you don't even have to prepare a speech. Aren't you happy? All you have to say is I don't!”

“That's it?” Geralt doubts it very much.

“That's it!”

Geralt grunts, unconvinced. “And your father will leave you alone, even if you don't get married?”

“I talked to my sister before coming here. Apparently, being left at the altar is a scandal. No one wants a groom or a bride that another disavowed, no matter the reasons.” Jaskier shrugs, “Gods forbid if an abandoned person gets a second chance.” he adds, sarcastically.

“And you're okay with it?”

Jaskier looks at him incredulously, “You're kidding? I'm more than okay. I don't want to marry anybody, Geralt, not now, nor ever. My life is perfectly fine as it is.”

Geralt finds himself frowning at the ground, something akin at nervousness churning his stomach at Jaskier's words. He should not care, after all, what Jaskier wants to do with his life, it's nothing of his business – and yet, he doesn't like the thought that Jaskier will never want someone stable to love for the rest of his life.

Is he starting to think like Jaskier's father?

Shit.

Jaskier probably notices his face darkens, because he gets even closer and grabs one of his shoulders, tightening slightly his grip when no reaction comes from Geralt, “Are you fine, Geralt? Believe me, I am truly, truly sorry for throwing all my family's mess onto you. But fret not, my friend! This will be the end, at least I can assure you this.”

Geralt looks at him. He has a plain robe on, clearly he was also preparing for the ceremony before sneaking out to come here, to him; his face is blotched red, maybe for embarrassment, maybe nervousness, Geralt can't say; his scent is mostly covered by some sweet perfume he used while bathing. He still is making puppy eyes at him, hoping to soften him as he begs for forgiveness.

But in the end, there's no motive for him to ask for forgiveness: it was Geralt who panicked and said that yes, he wanted to marry him. Thank fuck that it's all going to end soon, because this whole situation is becoming ridiculous.

There's a lot of ridiculous things he's done for Jaskier, after all.

But this? This beats them all.

“Whatever, I have a little gift for you.” Jaskier says, searching inside the pocket of his robe and taking out of there a silk, blue hair ribbon. “I know that I've already broken traditions by coming here, because one should see the bride – in this case, the groom – right on the altar, not before. But,” he says, showing him the ribbon. Geralt touches it with a knuckle, and it's as smooth as it looks. “this one is nice. They say that we need something old, something new, and something blue. You are what we have of old,” he laughs at this, and Geralt just smiles at him, “and our clothes are relatively new. What we missed is something blue, and all I've found is this. May I comb your hair?”

Geralt looks at him, then at the ribbon. At last, he sighs, “Sure.”

Actually, he feels a bit in trepidation as Jaskier commands him to sit at the vanity and settles behind him. His long fingers starts, slowly, almost carefully, to separate the white strands in three parts. Geralt watches as he combs his hair with care and confidence – it's not the first time he does that after all – but somehow this time it feels... different. Sacred, he would say, if only he was a poet.

Jaskier's hums under his breath does help the moment, making it even more intimate. He makes a plain braid, not too complicated, but taking his time nonetheless. Geralt definitely doesn't shivers when Jaskier's fingers brush against the skin of his neck, and no, he's definitely not too aware of Jaskier's breath too close to his ear when he leans to catch loose strands of hair.

Definitely not.

“Here you go!” Jaskier concludes, as he makes a flourish bow with the ribbon at the end of the braid. “Perfection.”

Geralt tells himself that he doesn't notice Jaskier's fingers lingering a bit more than necessary on his hair.

“I should go, now. I hope no one notices my absence.”

Geralt nods, “Hm. Go then.”

“Yeah, I–” Jaskier bites his lower lip, as he poses his hands on his shoulder. Their eyes meet through the mirror, and Jaskier seems to almost be saying something, but then thinks better of it. He smiles at him, with an healthy glow on his cheeks. “Thank you again, Geralt. What you're doing really means a lot to me.”

Said that, Jaskier leans towards him and leaves a smooch on his cheek, loud and a bit wet.

Then, he literally runs. “Ta!” he shouts as the door closes behind him.

Geralt freezes on the spot, a hand pressed on his cheek, where the ghost of that brief kiss still lingers there. His head completely shuts down. What the fuck was that?!

His mind can't make a coherent thought for the rest of the evening, finding himself by the altar without knowing how and when it happened. Jaskier is slightly late – if he understood well, they were supposed to reach the altar together – but Geralt knows why he isn't here yet, and in his altered mind he still can't get over that kiss.

Not that Jaskier never touched him before, being so tactical and friendly even with complete strangers – but, but kisses were always off limits. Combing hair? Yes, sure. It happened plenty of times. Massages? Also okay. Geralt still remembers fondly when Jaskier helped with his very uncomfortable problem on his bottom. Sleeping together and finding their limbs tangled together the morning after? Nothing wrong with that at all, it always happens when friends sleep together.

Right?

Hm. Put it like this, the kiss – on the cheek, mind you – seems to be the less intimate thing they've ever shared.

Then why..? Why does it bother him so much?!

Jaskier appears next to him on thin air, apparently, because Geralt didn't acknowledge his arrival at all, not until his tense laughter trills beside him as he almost trips on the last step of the altar. When he motions at him to try and steady him, Geralt's mind shut down again as his eyes finally fall on him.

Jaskier is also dressed in white like him, with golden embroidery running through his doublet and trousers, and he has an ephemeral aura around him that almost blinds his eyes. Jaskier returns his gaze with a sheepish smile, a blush on his cheeks and a quick shrug, as if to say Sorry for the late. Even if it's all a farce, I had to be on top regardless.

And on top he is, fucking hell.

Geralt can't quite take his eyes off Jaskier, as the Melitele's priestess starts talking out loud for all the guests to hear. Every time Jaskier notices his gaze, Geralt lowers his eyes as if caught doing something prohibited. Gods, he feels like a teenager. He feels like a real groom on his real wedding day – maybe? He doesn't really know what a groom may feel during a wedding.

This exchange of stares happens three times more. At last, Jaskier chuckles and the priestess looks at him oddly.

Suddenly, Jaskier takes his hands in his, raising them at heart length. They both turn towards each other, staring into each other faces. Geralt panics slightly, having heard not a single word that came out of the priestess' mouth. Jaskier is biting his lips, red in faces – he's probably trying to suppress one of his usual loud laughs. He's laughing at him!

He doesn't matter that at the moment Jaskier is the most beautiful man he has ever seen in his pitiful long life, he's ridiculing him and now he's mad. Kinda.

“I do.” says Jaskier, solemnly.

Geralt frowns. What was the question?

The priestess nods, then turns her pretty face towards Geralt, “And you, Geralt of Rivia?”

Shit. Fuck. What was the question?!

“I...” he asks Jaskier for help with a begging look, but Jaskier just tilts his head to the side. “I... do.”

The priestess nods again, but Jaskier blinks, “What?” he mouths.

“Was that..?” Geralt panics, because oh Gods, he now understands that the question was the question, the only question he needed to answer, the question Jaskier clearly has told him to say I don't. “Shit, no. I don't. I... don't.” The priestess jerks as he tries to mend his terrible mistake, “I don't want to marry, you heard me? I don't.”

Chaos erupts around them as Jaskier's father shrieks a “What?!”; the bard laughs his arse off again somewhere, hidden in the middle of the crowd; Jaskier's sister has a hand on her lips, feigning a surprise she doesn't really feel.

Jaskier is, instead, looking at him with a curious expression. Their hands are still tangled together in a firm grip, and Jaskier tightens slightly the grip to bring his attention on him and him only – not that Geralt had attention on anyone or anything, or else this mess wouldn't have happened in the first place, but still. Jaskier's thumbs are caressing the back of his hands, and the gesture is making him so aware of him and totally not of their surrounding.

“You said...” Jaskier prompts, after a minute passed just looking at each other.

“I panicked.”

Jaskier chuckles, “I noticed. Why?”

Geralt pursues his lips. Fuck, Jaskier is mocking him again, “I was distracted, and I haven't heard what the priestess said, so–”

Jaskier says, “You were looking at me, I know this. I distracted you?” Jaskier gets closer, almost a breath away from Geralt's face. Geralt feels trapped. “Tell me, I distracted you? Were you enough inebriated by my presence that the thought of marry me crossed your mind, and you weren't against it at all?”

Geralt says nothing.

“Geralt?”

“Will you marry me?” he blurts out, regretting it the second after. Yes, alright? He was thinking since that blasted kiss in his chambers that he would mind being Jaskier's husband, and being kissed again, and maybe meet his nephew and accompany him to bring flowers to his mother's tomb. So? Sue him for living in a fantasy for once in his life.

“No, darling.”

Of course not. How could he? He didn't want to marry that beautiful lady, surely he has no intention to marry a blasted, stinky, grumpy Witcher. “Alright.” he swallows down the bitterness of rejection, even if he shouldn't really feel so bad. He knew the response the second he asked, so.

Jaskier rolls his eyes, though. He actually feels really surprised when Jaskier leans on him and kisses him. Not a smooch on his cheek, no, a kiss on his lips. His head, obviously, shuts down again so he doesn't reciprocate, just enjoys the soft lips moving on him, and finally his scent, under the layers of sweet perfume, reaching his nose. “Silly Witcher. No, I don't want to marry you, or anyone really. I believe that I needn't to demonstrate to no one my love: not to my father, and not to Melitele herself. So I needn't a frivolous ceremony and a signed contract, a white doublet and a hundreds of testimonies to love you 'til death do us part.”

“Okay.” says Geralt, even if nothing is okay, because surely he got something wrong? He doesn't think he fully understands what Jaskier means.

“You marvelous, silly, naive man.” Jaskier sighs, fondly, “Did you know that we can make love even without a marriage contract? Let's leave everyone to their scandal. My sister is having the time of her life, she'll take care of everything.”

“Make what?” Geralt's almost afraid to ask, but Jaskier's expression is soft and fond – he seems in love. More than he's ever been, that is.

Jaskier winks, “I'm gladly going to show you, love.”

What happens next is a blur, Geralt notices just Jaskier's kisses, hugs, and soft, naked skin under his fingertips.

This time he understands the whole situation very, very clear.

[lizacstuff]

Your thoughts on the epi? And the trailers? I'm loving the in love Edser! We've waited so long for this!!!

This episode was so fun and fluffy! I don't know about you, but I am enjoying the tone during this second season. A lot. I don't care how stupid the audition process was for the spot in the school, it gave us some very good comedy and a lot of USTy, sexy, flirty goodness.

And like you, I also love in love Edser!

Thankfully this episode was dominated by Edser, and with Kiraz at Granny's house we even got some alone time. The supporting characters were used to good effect this episode, Engin and Piril were the funniest they've ever been, Kerem and Pina served to poke Serkan about his mentoring style, and it was actually nice to have an excuse for Ayfer and Aydan to share a storyline again.

(more under the cut)

However, we'll start with Burak and Melo. UGH. I mean I love Melo and Elcin has done a really good job of showing Melo's heartbreak and trying to hide her melancholy behind her usual bubbly personality, but I really can't stand that it's over such a dud of a character. I know I'm a broken record here but Melo deserves better than this fool. Honestly, he's such a bland sad sack I don't really get why Melo loves him, Eda wants to be friends with him and Ayfer thinks he's so great she wants him for a nephew-in-law. Well, for Ayfer the only qualification is that he's not Serkan, so never mind that question.

However, maybe there's some hope? Before this episode it seemed certain they were heading in a romance direction, but the way he told her she was like a sister to him? Is there really any coming back from him saying that after he remembered kissing her? On the other hand we're barreling towards the end here and there's not really enough time to introduce anyone new for Melo (and no indication from spoilers that they have) and I'm pretty sure Ayse and the writers want to give her a romantic happy ending (although I'd be fine if they didn't and instead had her go off and do something entirely for herself like go back to school or travel or open a shop). So we'll see, because even with the sister line they left some room open because Kerem was the one who suggested he say that (it wasn't necessarily his own idea) and with Melo he seemed to be coming from a place where he assumed he had forced himself on her and she was angry because she didn't want it. Which we know is not true, so might be a misunderstanding that leads to something more. Anyway, I guess we'll just have to endure whichever way they go.

Personally, I like the Serkan-Kemal father storyline. I think it's a good way to add a bit of drama in the waning episodes, gives Serkan a bit of an identity crisis, interestingly mirrors his own situation with Kiraz, and it just makes sense with everything we know of the characters. Because were we seriously supposed to believe that someone as sniveling as Alptelkin sired Serkan? I mean Serkan is the epitome of BDE, he has an inherent charismatic and commanding presence. Sorry to the actor who played Alptekin, but he didn't really have any kind of presence, however Sinan who plays Kemal, does. They've done a great job of casting, because it just feels true. I believe Kemal and Serkan share genetics.

However, even before that storyline starts in earnest, it's interesting that Serkan was being a big baby, not wanting his mom with a man she clearly loves. I wish Eda would have pushed back at him a little more when he was going off that Aydan shouldn't pursue love at her age! Does he think he'll be out of love with Eda by the time he's in his 50s and 60s? Of course not! I'm guessing Eda, though, is just letting him blow off some steam and come to accept the relationship on his own terms. Don't get me wrong, though, after all the meddling Aydan's done with Edser, she more than deserves to have Serkan's opinion of Kemal negatively impact her!

Loved that Kiraz and Can found out first that Kemal is Serkan's father! Cat is out of the bag, Aydan, you can't make a deal with a 5 year old, lmao. It put a nice ticking clock on the whole thing and gave us some good comedic moments where Kiraz is speaking the truth and everyone thinks she's just really fond of the dude. Hee.

Also I enjoyed the Aydan and Ayfer moments. To be honest, I also used to enjoy their true friendship moments when we got them, like when Kemal first appeared and Aydan was freaking out and needed Ayfer and Seyfi around her, and when they were trying to hunt down Deniz after the fake wedding turned real. After so much animosity, it was nice that Ayfer recognized that Aydan was truly in distress and needed a friend and they were able to actually talk. Also we got some (mildly) funny comedy with the two of them and the school lady. Speaking of Ayfer, thankfully she finally realized some consequences to her actions in pushing Burak at Eda. She hurt Melo! Glad she finally opened her eyes to see what should have been obvious to her (Eda never saw him that way, and Melo obviously did) and apologized to Melo. I'd like it if she would apologize to Eda as well, (and Burak deserves an apology as well because she most definitely gave him false hope) but since Eda wasn't influenced by her we probably won't see that.

Switching to Eda and Serkan this episode gave us lots of good stuff. This was a great episode for showing us where each of them stood. Eda is terrified of getting hurt and trying to hold him at arm's length even while he clearly is inching back into her heart, and Serkan is dreaming of their future together, and taking every opportunity to tie them together. How much did I love Serkan admitting he was poking at Eda, and doig things to make her angry, just so she would talk to him? Interesting that he's doing it and love that he's being honest and admitting it to her. One of my favorite relationship dynamics between them is around "talking." In the very beginning Serkan did a lot of complaining about how much Eda talked and how she never shut up, but starting around episode 18 all he wanted was for Eda to talk to him. And this is just more of that. The thing he wants most is to talk to her.

Plus watching domestic Edser is just so much fun, I could watch their full grocery shopping trip in real time and be perfectly happy, lol. At the age of 35 it's time that Serkan learn how to do a few things for himself, I don't care how rich he is, so it's nice that we see him evolving a bit as he embraces the dad role.

The jealousy gambits, even as mild as they are, are getting pretty eye roll worthy since Eda and Serkan are living together, care so much, and obviously are still so hot for one another. It's a bit more understandable from Serkan since Eda is the one creating the barrier between them, but are we really supposed to believe that Eda is jealous of Deniz when Serkan is so obviously in love with Eda and planning their future together? Especially when he clearly can't stand Deniz and tries so hard to avoid her? I suppose it's to show us that Eda is in a jumbled state, her head is trying to keep space with Serkan, while her heart wants him badly and is scared he's going to take her rejections seriously. Even so it was quite irrational for her to get angry at Serkan for having lunch with Deniz when she ordered him to leave with her. Poor Eda is in emotional turmoil.

It was hard to tell with shaky translations, but I guess Serkan claimed to have been injured while rescuing Eda and that's how he talked his way into her bed? Impressively done, Serkan. Love it because it meant we all got to wake up to snuggly family, snuggling together. This gave us another glimpse into Eda's psyche, she wakes up first, and is clearly enjoying it and feeling at home in his arms, until the sleep clears enough and her head realizes she's not supposed to be enjoying it. But once again Kiraz knows how to handle her parents and their complicated relationship beautifully and fixes everything with a pillow fight. That is one smart cookie.

One of my favorite moments of the episode is when Eda is trying to convince Serkan to go to Aydan about the school. Eda knows that her big eyes still work on him, and they did. He still can't say no to her, another one of my favorite relationship dynamics of theirs. I'm super glad some things never change. Speaking of their visit to Aydan's, how great that they went to meet the horse without a name as a family, and then Serkan finally came up with the perfect name. Definitely a star.

Love, love, love that Serkan and Eda beat Engin and Piril when it came to the 'how well do you know your spouse' game. They may have been separated for 5 years, but they both have a genuine interest in the other, so they remember things, and they always made a much more compatible couple than Engin/Piril who have absolutely nothing in common. Of course I adored all the fake married hijinx this gave us, not to mention all the opportunities for Serkan to touch, kiss, and hold her. SO MUCH UST!

The heart-to-heart on the bench was well done and it finally gave us Eda opening up and telling him what's been holding her back. She's scared. Of course she is, the poor thing. Serkan might have thought he was doing it for her own good both times, but he ripped her heart out twice (not even counting all the heart ripping he did during amnesia) how could she not have fears? Of course she's afraid! Whenever she lets herself love him and be loved by him, it's ripped away horribly, and often in ways that feels like it's him doing the ripping. She can take into consideration the circumstances, which she has or else he wouldn't be anywhere near her, and still need time to be sure she's not just setting herself up to get emotionally demolished again.

For Serkan's part all he can do is keep being there, being honest with her, and showing he's in it for the long haul, which I think he's doing and which is why they are where they are at the end of this episode.

Engin and Piril's dance practice is probably the first Engin/Piril alone scene that I thought was genuinely funny and fully enjoyable. I can't think of another... message me if you think there is one, lol. Elsewhere, I saw some folks saying that Engin and Piril should have won the dance competition, because they actually danced, and Eda and Serkan didn't. LOL, you think? I'm pretty sure that was the point. That Eda and Serkan didn't really dance, all they did was get up there and turn their sexual tension and intense smoldering towards one another up to eleventy and won because it's that powerful.

It's sort of a metaphor for this whole series. Sen Cal Kapimi is 100% powered by their chemistry. Of course they can win any competition by just pressing their bodies against one another! They can turn a ditzy Turkish summer romcom that probably should have gone 13 eps into an international hit that's going on 50 episodes, just by looking at one another.

I'm glad that the school officials overheard their conversations and dismissed them, any organization that requires this of the parents, is going to be a lifelong pain-in-the ass, lmao. Also it was good to see Edser and EnPir make up by the end.

Now, on to that ending. I'm glad the subject of the tatoos was brought up, interesting that Eda kept hers until a few months ago. Also interesting that she moved it... can't blame Serkan for wanting to see it. Was that one great seduction line, or what?

I join with everyone who thinks it was a slightly awkward place to leave the episode. We only have 13 (probably) episodes this season, and we've only had one kiss so far. That was definitely a moment for a kiss. Part of me thinks they were going for the cliffhanger, what will Eda do? Will she kiss him or slam the door in his face? Tune in next week to find out! Except that audiences have to wait no time at all for the fragman and that makes any such cliffhanger moot. So what's the point? Have her pull him in, kiss him, and the show can end with them passionately making out and the door slamming with the camera outside the house.

Oh well, it is what it is, and we can only hope they pick up next week right where they left off. As for the fragman, obviously they are fully back together for this episode which means she lets him in to hunt for her tattoo. (please oh please give us that internet ozel because I don't think I can stand being online in this fandom if they don't. Thankfully I'm traveling next week and will be too busy to spend much time on twitter.)

As I said in another ask, I'm not surprised Serkan is barreling them straight towards marriage. When you know, you know, so why wait? Once they emotionally commit to one another, they need to just get married. No waiting for psychos to interfere, family to meddle, or tragedy to strike!

Seriously can't wait for a full episode of them together and Serkan figuring out how to propose. I'm also looking forward to the Kemal/Serkan stuff, it will be interesting to see how he reacts once the news sets in... should be a great episode!

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 278 “Miss Kaeko and the free-swinging vagrant boy”

Okay, so we’ve a new chapter that continues the flashback and as we read it we should all remember that...

... the choices we make shouldn’t do us more harm than good and joining the army when a war is about to start is SURELY a very harmful decision.

So we start with Sugimoto kicking away Tsurumi’s gun, a type 26 revolver by the way, which means he hadn’t managed to have Arisaka give him a Borchardt yet. Maybe the two weren’t friend yet or maybe Arisaka just didn’t have it yet.

Anyway, as Ogata enjoys what’s going on as he thinks he’s witnessing Yuusaku making a show, Sugimoto tries to reach for the gun and is stopped by Usami. While poor Kaeko gets a close look to Sugimoto’s privates from assorted angles and gets scolded by Hamako who tells her not to look, Tsukishima joins the fight telling Ogata to quit grinning and help. Not that Ogata is even considering to do it, as he has a lot more fun enjoying the show.

As Sugimoto beats Usami and Tsukishima Tsurumi realizes, to Ogata’s disappointment, he’s not Yuusaku…

and my mind goes back to chap 95, when Sugimoto wanted Suzukawa to dress up as a high-ranking officer, Ogata said they would see through the guise immediately and Sugimoto just makes an interesting expression.

I get the feeling when Sugi suggested it he was thinking at this experience and when Ogata shoot the idea down he was thinking at how Sugimoto got recognized by Tsurumi rather quickly.

I swear back then I would have never figured this was what was behind that exchange…

Anyway disappointed Ogata just doesn’t make a move to go and help Usami and Tsukishima. Noda in the fanbook said Ogata isn’t so bad at fighting but he clearly isn’t in Tsukishima or Usami’s league and Sugimoto is holding his ground against them both so he figured if he were to take part to the battle he would only get beaten.

Anyway as the fight progresses Tsukishima grabs the gun and is about to shoot Sugimoto but Kikuta, who was observing the scene not knowing what was going on as he had no idea who Tsurumi and his gang were, pushes Sugimoto away and tells him to run.

Hamako volunteers to keep them busy so as to allow them to escape and… stops Ogata, who had no intention whatsoever to do something right from the beginning...

Hamako, really, stop either Tsukishima or Usami, not him.

Sugimoto runs away with Kaeko (who only manages to grab his shirt). Tsukishima would like to chase them but Tsurumi stops him.

He has figured the man who got in the way should be Kikuta, and that this means Kikuta was doing his job properly.

This meeting probably gave Tsurumi a measure of the kind of man Kikuta is.

Capable but also self sacrificing for his men since he took a bullet for Sugimoto.

Meanwhile, as Sugimoto’s group escape they cross path with Yuusaku. Kaeko, from Sugimoto and Yuusaku’s conversation, realizes Sugimoto is a fake but doesn’t care. She’s now the one that pulls Sugimoto away as they escape.

I love how Yuusaku believes he has recognized Kikuta and Kikuta tells him he has the wrong guy.

Once they’re out Sugimoto wore his shirt and covered his privates with his hat. Really, I would have just bought him pants instead of stopping in the middle of the way to talk with Sugimoto’s lower half naked but whatever, let’s go on.

Sugimoto asks Kikuta who were those guys and Kikuta says he has no idea but maybe they were men working for Hanazawa.

Sugimoto explains he believed that was Kikuta’s “plan B” and at this Kikuta says his “plan B” actually involves fake Mr. and Mrs. Hanazawa, which Sugimoto still judges pretty horrible.

His worry though is all for Kaeko. Will someone come to try to silence her?

Kaeko, blushing and smiling, says there’s no need for someone to try to silence her because, to Sugimoto’s shock she now wants to marry him.

Sugimoto is clearly not interested though as he points out he’s a nobody with no parents, family, home or everything.

Kaeko says her family has money so he shouldn’t worry but Sugimoto points out that his world is just too different from her own and he has no place in Kaeko’s luxurious world.

This ties in an interesting way with how Sugimoto early in the story was chasing the gold to cure Umeko, yes, but also to get rich. Maybe a side of him, with time, started to long for a place in such a luxurious world and while he’s clearly not interesting in Kaeko but still holding a candle for Umeko, he clearly wanted to improve his social standing.

Kaeko tries to persuade him by telling him he could get used to it and starts living with her, especially since he has anywhere to stay, asking him what he plans to do otherwise.

She doesn’t look like she’s attempting to manipulate him, she just seems really invested in having him with her. She really got a big crush on Sugimoto if she’s willing to take him even if he has nothing.

Sugimoto confirms he thinks to join the army so he can at least have white rice to eat.

A side of me feels bad for him, life for him was very harsh before and now he’s saying he’s joining the army with such a big smile as if this were to fix everything but really, I get he was starved and desperate previously but Yuusaku just told him a war is about to start, joining the army is the last thing he should consider as his previous life will look like heaven once he’s thrown on the battlefield.

For as harsh as it was, his previous life didn’t gave him nightmares, countless scars and traumas. War is hell, thinking the opposite is naive.

Anyway Kikuta’s face darkens at this.

He took part to the Sino-Japanese war and lost a brother during it, he can see that’s not a bright decision.

Meanwhile Hamako joins them and informs Kaeko his family would never allow her to marry Sugimoto.

She then tells her she understands Kaeko is so focused on getting a good looking man because she feels inferior to her friends who already got married. As we learnt in the past chapter in fact, there was a certain pressure in getting married before finishing school, but Hamako points out how Kaeko doesn’t need an handsome man at her side as a decoration, she’s already an awesome woman excellent in both scholarly and athletic abilities.

It’s a rather strong talk, especially for a time in which a woman was viewed as nothing if she didn’t have a man by her side. Hamako surely has a modern mindsetting and I love how Noda included such a talk in his work.

Kaeko accepts Hamako’s statement and suggests to leave. Sugimoto bows deeply, apologizes to her for deceiving her and thanks her for showing him a short glimpse of a different, gorgeous world.

Although it’s nice Sugimoto apologizes, I’ll say it’s clear he isn’t interested in Kaeko, as he doesn’t have a single nice thing to say about her, not even he’s sure she’ll find someone better than him or that she’ll make it on her own, or that she’s a nice person or that he enjoyed being with her.

Kaeko instead, saying goodbye to him, tells him to become a truly dashing soldier, showing she’s interested in his future and that’s not all.

Kaeko will marry a big name in the world of finance (this big name likely based on Shibusawa Eiichi), ending up on being called ‘Empress’ but what’s more relevant is she joined the women’s association and dedicated her energies nursing injured soldiers returning from war and supporting their widows.

Although many rich women would do so, the reference here is likely to how she volunteered because a side of her still cared for Sugimoto and this pushed her to take care of the soldiers as a whole.

Meanwhile at the hotel Ogata, who’s alone for some reason, happens to cross path with Yuusaku. Yuusaku salutes him and then they walk separates way but we can see Ogata is giving his a sideway glance and it’s possible Yuusaku too is doing the same. There’s a chance they both have understood who the other is as Ogata might have suspected Yuusaku would be around and Yuusaku might have noticed how Ogata looked like his father.

Back to Sugimoto and Kikuta, Kikuta is sore due to the bullet he took and Sugimoto tells him he should be a carzy man to take a bullet for him. Kikuta says he’s responsible for involving Sugimoto in this mess and that it doesn’t matter anyway as he has got VIP seats on the train headed straight to hell so Sugimoto should forget about him and Yuusaku, which was the scene we saw in chap 274, the one that started this flashback.

Kikuta then tells him Sugimoto couldn’t have been serious when he said that would join the army, thanks him for his hard work and asks for his cap back. It’s worth to remember that cap was his brother’s cap so it has a sentimental value for Kikuta.

The chapter ends here.

I love how it remarked Kaeko’s value as a person who doesn’t need a man at her side in order to be wonderful. On the other side, although Sugimoto protected her, he really didn’t seem to be interested in her. At all.

Tsurumi and Kikuta’s first meeting was interesting and, as I’ve already said, how Ogata came to figure out that people would easily recognize fakes in the army was pretty unexpected.

I’m still not sure what Tsurumi planned to do when he got involved in the whole Yuusaku thing, he clearly wasn’t there due to Hanazawa’s orders as he had no idea of the scandal before Okuda mentioned it. Did he want to make Hanazawa feel indebted to him in the same way as he did with Koito? Did he want Yuusaku to join his collection of soldiers he groomed with love?

Hard to say.

On another side… really Sugi, Kikuta is right, joining the army is a dumb idea.

On another side I love how protective Kikuta is of him. He didn’t ask his name, which is a sign he tried to keep distance, yet he was willing to take a bullet for him. Kikuta is a good guy in his own way.

[sheriff-caitlyn]

I started this blog in 2014, as the first Caitlyn on tumblr, and obviously I’ve been through a lot of retcons and changes myself, not only adapting to Riot’s own public retcons (from the minor, like her aesthetics, to the major, like the removal of the Institute of War as an integral part of their lore) but also to my own. That’s the thing about playing a character as complex as this, is that you learn more as you go. In your interactions with others and the creation of backstory, history, and other bits of worldbuilding to better understand the world you’re in, a character goes from a handful of images and some in-game voicelines to a fully-fledged person with a complex narrative. Sometimes things change, and that’s fine. But there are some changes which... aren’t. 

For all the fingerprints I’ve put on her, she is still not my character. But I care. Sunk-cost fallacy, maybe, but I care about this character I have been involved in and I care about the direction she has been taken. So, without further ado, I’d like to delve into:

The Recent Caitlyn Update In Piltover’s New Context or, We Gotta Fetishise Police Violence, I Mean, Look At Her, She’s So Hot

Back in August 2015, I went, ‘Oh No, they’re going to try to turn Piltover into Gotham City, aren’t they?’, and lo and behold, suddenly we have Poison Ivy now. But I will get back to that, later. In this particular thread, I noted that many of the characters in Piltover seemed destined for a revamp that would rob them of what originally drew us to them in the first place, and that Piltover seemed destined for a rework that would wash out much of their character. Piltover and Zaun were always meant to be polar opposites, but suddenly we were seeing glimpses of Piltover being ‘not as good as everyone thinks’, which hinted that Piltover and Zaun were destined not to be polar opposites in the future, but indistinguishable from each other. It worried me that the only thing telling these two fascinating cities apart would be the sunlight.

So, when we have so much potential for a clash between Zaun and Piltover, between ‘Science No Matter The Cost’ and ‘We Must Advance The World With Care’, why change Piltover to some murky middleground, turning peace and security into wartime capitalism? A world where the people are shitty, where weapons and profit come first, and the only ones making a stand are the ones who are so embittered they have nothing better to do?

Because it has to be ‘interesting’. We’re going to lose bits that we like, that we’re familiar with. And that’s why I’m concerned.

This was before Piltover and Zaun were squished together in an ugly - and utterly ham-fisted - method of showing How Complex The Future Is. There’s layers, guys! Literal layers to this one single city! That means it’s deep! But when I say ‘bits that we like, that we’re familiar with’, I’m not clinging to a fanon interpretation. I’m saying the things that drew us to the world and to the characters to begin with. I could adapt from Caitlyn turning from brown-haired and brown-eyed to black-haired and blue-eyed, because even through I had been doing art, at that point, the change gave me an opportunity to express and discover more about her character (her eye colour being influenced by her mother’s magic, for one). But some of the more stark changes - to family, to job, to personality, to the city of Piltover itself - these result in a character changing completely. I was worried that the cool detective who literally made the world a better place would be chopped and changed into something unrecognisable. I even expounded on my concerns in November 2016, where I could see some of the ways the writers at Rito might make adjustments in the direction of their lore updates.

All this to say, I’ve been working on her for a while, and I was bracing for some bad news. This? This is kind of the worst.

Caitlyn has always been the Sheriff of Piltover, an authority figure, a representative of the law and order that Piltover is famous for. Piltover’s peace and financial prosperity has been directly linked to Caitlyn’s concerted effort to eradicate crime (not criminals, crime! Which, as I have mentioned particularly in this post from 2014, means she upended and reformed the justice system, from the legal process to the prisons to how people are treated as citizens). The city is safe, people have greater access to personal wealth and development, classism is erased, society is flourishing. Zaun, as Piltover’s polar opposite, is a corporate nightmare, with ‘do as thou wilt’, private bodyguards for the rich and powerful while the poor scramble to survive in a system that barely treats them as human. Vi, as a Zaunite, brings a lot of her ‘violence as a problem-solver’ methodology to Piltover’s law-enforcement, though she seems to have no intention of returning to Zaun and seems to have bonded with Caitlyn (‘teamwork!’) to Get Shit Done. And, apparently, there is still shit that needs to be done, though nowhere near as much as there had been in the Bad Old Days.

Vi was, at the time, the awkward-grit-teeth-grin-ha-ha-um-yeah representation of police violence. ‘Resist arrest’, she cries gleefully, as she beats people and breaks down buildings, and we are supposed to go ‘ha, isn’t that funny’ with varying degrees of sincerity. Of course Piltover is going to have problems: anywhere that has wealth and stability is going to be targeted by the envious and the needy. Peace needs to be protected. The problem lies in how that protection is enacted.

So now we have the recent Legends of Runeterra update to Caitlyn, an update which looked at the context of Piltover needing protection, as well as the modern context of Riot’s California location in the Years of Our Lord 2020-2021, and then decided ‘you know what we need? Police violence, everyone loves police violence’.

MAN I thought the stripper-cop skins were bad but here we go!

Her Yordle Snap-Traps (which I envisioned as from the Yordle Military, rather than a racially-profiling weapon as, y’know, they work on human-and-larger-sized people as well) have now been replaced by electroshock grenades, the intent gone from incapacitation and observation to outright paralysis and destruction. Her net-short is now apparently electro-conductive (admittedly, I have had one (1) single RP where that happened, but it came at both a cost to Caitlyn and to her weapon’s efficiency as a result, a last-resort against a dangerous opponent). Caitlyn’s cards in LoR take her from being a detective coordinating ideas and people and putting together a case to a SWAT team leader. This might be the biggest problem in working for a non-combat-oriented character in a MOBA, or in any fighting game: the game needs to find rationalisations for all of their characters being there, being combatants, being able to kill (even if, as Riot says, the lore is separate from the game). We have monsters and soldiers and ancient powers who of course they know how to spill blood and relish in doing so. But pacifists, like Karma or Bard? Explorers like Ezreal? And a sheriff, a peacekeeper, a law-keeper, someone mindful of responsibility and the importance of saving every life possible, like Caitlyn? They’re stripped of that depth and complexity in-game, but there was always the lore that backed them up. But they’ve done away with that completely. Caitlyn was never special operations. She was never military. But now she is, because she had to be changed to fit better into a fighting game. They had to make her violent, and as a result, they have undermined not only everything about the character that made her interesting to begin with - turning her now into a representative of police brutality, but with long hair, pouty lips, and a thigh gap - but they’re also re-writing the context of Piltover. It was bad enough to squish Piltover and Zaun together. But now, Caitlyn’s update is proof that Piltover has gone from a steampunk utopia to a violent, oppressive and cynical post-industrial world. The depiction of Caitlyn as a SWAT team leader (complete with special-forces beret, because hat! Caitlyn wears a hat! Nevermind the fact that she’s no longer wearing a distinctive tophat but instead a symbol of extreme state-sponsored force!) shows us that Piltover’s ‘army’ is not designed as a defence against outsiders, but as an offensive force against their own people. Caitlyn is supposed to be the representation of how peace and order is maintained in one of the largest factions in League of Legends, and if her method of maintaining order is straight-up police violence against their own citizens, then it’s not really peace and order. It’s authoritarianism at best, and facism at worst.

Piltover was different from every other nation in Runeterra because it didn’t have a military. It had defenders, and it had a powerful economy, and it had a democratic political system. But the Piltover update retconned Caitlyn’s hard work. The gangs were back - though now they’re big powerful families like Clan Ferros - and Caitlyn has been de-aged so that she’s still new to the force, that she hasn’t even had her chance to change anything. Her importance to Piltover is minimised... and why is Vi even there? (Oh boy I guess you’re going to have to watch Arcane to find out! Coming to a Netflix near you soon!) With a younger Caitlyn in a violent society, she has no choice but to be violent herself... even if that undermines everything previously established about Piltover and about Caitlyn. This update has made Piltover just as ugly and oppressive as Demacia, Noxus, and Zaun. It’s just another army equipped to do violence, but now that violence is turned inwards. This isn’t protection, it’s control. It’s fear. It’s oppression. Caitlyn is no longer a peacekeeper. She’s a monster. Chopped and changed, as I feared, into something completely unrecognisable from how she began in a world that no longer looks like what it had been... or should be.

It’s hard to tell what came first, the change to Piltover or the change to Caitlyn. Either way, the changes are inextricably linked. Caitlyn was integral to Piltover’s modern state, and Piltover is integral to Caitlyn as a character. Her (original) drive was to make the city and all its people better; Piltover was a utopia because of the effort of Caitlyn, and of people like her, people who wanted a better world. This new iteration of Piltover - full of fear and violence and hypocricy, layered over Zaun in such a way that makes ham-fisted commentary about the wealth/class divide - undermines the value of the individual. It removes agency. It removes hope, which had been integral to Piltover. Piltover is no longer the CIty of Progress... it’s the City of ‘you better be rich and pretty if you want to progress’. And Caitlyn is no longer a force for good or a representative of responsibility, because those things don’t exist in Piltover anymore. Legends of Runeterra has turned Caitlyn into a bitch, someone to hate. She has a marked lack of respect for people, as demonstrated in her new character traits of ‘casually-racist’ (her lines to Veigar), ‘condescending’ (her lines to Viktor), with some added pride in her violence (’here’s my calling card *shoots gun*’ and ‘I aim to win and my aim is excellent’). She is a representative of her city, and she is a terrible person now. Piltover is terrible. Piltover is ugly. 

But Caitlyn avoids that last part. And she’ll get away with it, because she’s a hot twenty-something.

In 2015, I drew Caitlyn-as-Swain, as an AU for what might have been. The overwhelming response at the time was ‘aaa she’s so hot I’d follow that leader of Noxus’, prompting a good friend Swain RPer to comment that Swain - who was, at the time, the withered man in green and gold who needed a cane - was just as smart as Caitlyn if not more so, a proven capable leader, but when it comes down to it, sex-appeal will always trump characterisation and storytelling, and that’s disheartening for someone who puts so much work into stories, to context, to something deeper than ‘Just another MOBA’. And here I am, in 2021, looking at how Caitlyn has been stripped of her fascinating and complex characterisation while maintaining her long legs, long hair, and corsetted figure. Now, I do appreciate the fact they’ve given her a better costume than miniskirt and boobtube. She deserves so much better. I even commissioned back in 2015 for a Better Look for Caitlyn; Tom aka FaerieFountain went on to make her new look canon. But she’s supposed to be a detective. She’s supposed to be careful and methodical and mindful of her status and power. Instead, she’s been made gleefully violent, leaving a lot of depth behind in order to become just Hot Cop With Gun. (As an aside, was anyone else uncomfortable with Caitlyn’s high-school skin? Especially when the writer actually tweeted ‘step on me’? Hello? Ma’am? That is a high school student, that is a CHILD you are talking about? But Caitlyn is hot so it’s fine! Sexualise a child! it’s fine, she’s hot, it’s fine!) Almost everyone who has contacted me about Caitlyn’s LoR cards has been excited to see her. Good! She’s a great character! Or, she was. But the enthusiasm about her is tied to how she’s so violent, how she uses her power to abuse those who don’t conform. But she looks great, smoking hot, you know? And when she’s smoking hot, her dangerous and abusive behaviour and attitude are completely excused. An update to a character needs to take into account characterisation as well as the visuals. Her update, sadly, has focused on the all-too-prevalent problem of the viciousness of state-sponsored violence, rather than the complexity of detective work, of puzzle solving and intellectualism, but because she looks hot and speaks in that British accent, no-one’s going to care. Hot ladies can get away with so much, because legs and pouty lips, but I guess she’s also a cop or whatever.

And, as a momentary aside, why is an eco-terrorist suddenly Caitlyn’s longtime foe? It makes zero sense for Piltover and for Caitlyn that someone who plant-based powers is her biggest rival and the city’s biggest threat. Zero sense, until you take into account that Piltover has been stripped of its character and made into something more aligned with modern authoritarianism than the hopeful vibes of steampunk. Environmentalism? Not on my watch! Deploy the police (the good guys!) to silence the protesters (who are obviously the bad guys becase they’re protesting)! Because Piltover and Zaun are one city now, and therefore indistinguishable, we have a fucking Poison Ivy character causing enough trouble in Piltover to warrant entire fucking SWAT teams opening fire within the city limits and around peoples’ homes! Not Zaun, which is the environmental nightmare, but Piltover! With its fresh air and open skies! Yes, that’s a great place for an eco-terrorist to blame and/or try to fix! The whole thing is honestly so backwards! Like they’ve decided to make a cool character in the form of Corina and just shove her into the story, rather than finding a place in the narrative that suits her. The idea that Corina is C makes no sense. Caitlyn vs C is supposed to be Sherlock versus Moriarty, Ganimard versus Lupin, ACME versus Carmen Sandiego, world’s greatest detective against the world’s greatest thief. It focused on the intellectual battle, the need for self-improvement, and - most importantly! - that this was a fight that didn’t result in gunfire or people being put in bodybags. But we can’t have that in our fighting game! We can’t have people thinking, because that’s not the kind of game we have, it’s left-click-shoot out here on the Rift or in the cards. So now we have a woman with plant powers bombing Piltover, and a policewoman kicking down doors and opening fire. And she’s right there, in Caitlyn’s new splash art, within reaching distance of the sheriff!

She’s right there! In hot pink with a flower in her fucking hair! And Caitlyn doesn’t even notice? Looks like one of my major gripes about Caitlyn being updated - Incompetence - is rearing its ugly head. She cannot even see someone not five feet from her. Oooh, look out, Piltover, no-one can figure out why this single eco-terrorist is causing problems for years, but Caitlyn will figure it out! With her gun! Because she’s a cop with a gun, and cops with guns never cause more problems than they solve, right?

Look... I know. I know she’s not my character. I know that everything I’ve done is fan-interpretation. But I’ve worked for so long and hard and done so much research, and things I’ve done have even been seen by - and used by! - the company itself (not just in the ‘oh what a coincidence’ sense, either, I know my link on Hextech as a form of magic made it to several of the writers, some of whom later contacted me). I might be too jaded by all the disappointment to take it personally anymore, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still happen. We know Riot Games could be and should be better. So many people in this community - and people who have since moved on - put so much love and effort into the characters and the world, building up from scraps and guesswork and extrapolation. It wasn’t our world, but we enjoyed playing in it. We enjoyed struggling in it, because it pushed us to be thoughtful, creative, to be engaged and interested. Critical Theory doesn’t have to be negative... but this recent update to Caitlyn’s character and to Piltover as a whole is... it’s a step backwards. They’ve gone for the ‘ooh isn’t this gritty and dark’ approach, and swept away so much of what made the original so interesting, creative, engaging to begin with. They’d rather have controversy than people genuinely enjoying the thing that they’re opening their wallet for. 

Caitlyn was a detective who focused on responsibility, intellectualism, and care. What she is now is not the same Caitlyn they started with, and expresses a set of values that I do not support. This blog will continue to be focusing on the old lore, on what Piltover has been and what it should be: a hopeful utopia, a place for people to grow and be responsible and thoughtful and mindful of their place on the world stage. It’s not going to be perfect, but there’s hope, and there’s people here who want the world, and everyone in it, to be better than it is. I hope you join me, no matter who you are.

[when-will-they-interact]

Day 4: Alternate Universe

Virgil wasn’t cut out to be a prince. The playing nice with dignitaries, the speeches, the political maneuvering, the entertaining of rich suitors, none of it suited him. His dad was great at the politicking, his pa great with PR, his uncle with the drama and war, and his brother was a natural with people, so he had no idea why he was so bad at this. He was supposed to be meeting some powerful family’s brightest son today, and he still hadn’t cracked open the file on the guy. His mind on the impending disaster of a first meeting, Virgil spent the morning distracted and anxious.

“…and so your Pa and I are getting a divorce, I’m going to try breeding a sheep and a horse, we’re going to war with your uncle, and you’re expected to perform an opera at the next council meeting.”

“Sounds great, Dad.” The crown prince worried the hem of his shirt, clearly not having heard a word the king had just said.

“Virge? Are you all right?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, Dad, I’m fine.”

“Really?” King Janus quirked an eyebrow at his eldest, slightly amused. “Because you didn’t hear a word I said.”

“Sure I did!” He was quick to defend himself, despite having been caught.

“You said it ‘sounds great’ that I’m going to divorce your Pa, breed a sheep and a horse, declare war on your uncle, and make you perform an opera at the next council meeting. You can lie better than that.”

“…oh.”

“So what is it that’s bothering you?”

“It’s just… the guy arriving today? The Berry’s pride and joy? I haven’t read his file yet, and I’ve got to give him the tour, and I just know I’m gonna screw it up, and I don’t think I’m cut out to be crown prince, and you and Pa are gonna have to disown me, and-“ the king’s hand on his arm cut him off.

“Hey, hey. Virgil, your Pa and I have no plans to disown you, I promise. You’re an amazing crown prince, and you’re going to do wonderfully with the tour.” Janus’ voice was soft and forceful all at once, brokering no argument. Still, Virgil couldn’t help but shrink under his gaze, thinking he was undeserving of the praise. Janus, sensing the hesitancy, decided to lighten it up a bit. “Besides, would I lie?”

Virgil snorted. “Dad, you’re famous for lying.”

“True. But would I lie about this?”

“….no.”

“That’s right. I’d never. Now I have to go listen to your uncle’s report, and you have to go give a tour. I’ll see you at dinner. I’d wish you luck, but you don’t need it. Actually, can you wish me luck? You know how your uncle gets.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay Dad. Good luck with Uncle Roman.” With that, the two royals parted ways to attend to their various duties.

Virgil headed through the halls towards the massive entrance hall, confidence bolstered somewhat by his dad’s encouragement. Still, that bundle of nerves didn’t quite dissipate.

The entrance hall was crowded with bored courtiers who wanted a glimpse of the arrivals, leaving Virgil to (politely) shove his way through to the front. When he finally got there, however, he was so thrown he forgot about the people and the nerves. Instead, his gaze fixated on a familiar face, one that seemed both out of place and far too well suited for the castle.

“Lo?” His voice was incredulous, ringing out across the hall.

The nobleman’s eyes snapped to Virgil, widening infinitesimally. “Anx?”

Virgil moved towards him, unaware of the crowd parting before him. It was only the appearance of a guard behind Lo that snapped him back to reality. The guard was clad in Berry colors, and Virgil realized that the Berry noble and Lo were one and the same. He processed this information, then tilted his chin up and projected his voice.

“Guards, clear the hall.” The guards posted around the hall sprang into action, moving to funnel the court out of the hall as fast as possible. The smart ones were already heading out, the court gossips trying their level best to hang back. Virgil noted this, but never took his eyes off the Berry noble. He watched as Lo realized just who Virgil had to be in order to command the royal guards, and his mouth drop as he put it together. He watched the guards behind him realize that they’d moved to shield their lord from the crown prince, and watched as their faces drained of color. He watched one of his own guards push back an overly eager courtier. He didn’t move. He stood there, in a stance trained from years of learning to project “I’m the crown prince, don’t touch me”, and never looked away.

By the time the hall cleared, Lo had composed himself and clasped his hands behind him, clearly planning to face this head on. A guard leaned forward to tell him the hall was cleared. Virgil noted this with a slight nod, then turned his head a bit towards the commander of his personal guard.

“Leave us.”

“But your highness, we aren’t supp-“

“Leave us. I’ll handle my uncle. You lot, too.” The last bit was directed to the Berry guards, who rushed to comply.

There were a few more seconds of silent staring, then the last door to the entrance hall banged shut.

“So,” Virgil started, “You’re the Berry nobleman.”

“I am.”

“Hm.”

“You’re the crown prince.”

“I am.”

“Hm.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Virgil cracked a grin. Lo, tentatively, grinned back.

“It’s good to see you, Lo.”

“And you as well, highness.”

Virgil’s grin dampened a bit. “No highness, please. Just, just call me Virgil. Or Virge.”

“Virgil. I’m Logan.”

“Lo-gan,” Virgil tested the name out, and found it pleasant. “Suits you.”

“Virgil suits you. Far better than Anxiety, if I may be so bold.”

“Nothing ever stopped you before, Logic.”

“Yes, well, I also didn’t know just how wildly outranked I was before.”

And just like that, the brevity left the room. Not that there was much before, but the weight of the countless lies both must have told was suffocating now.

“I apologize, that was out of line.” Logan attempted to roll back the jab, a move that was both too late and contrary to his nature.

“No, no. You’re right. There’s a lot to talk about, isn’t there.” Virgil fidgeted, unsure of where to begin.

“In that case, why don’t we walk and talk.” Logan took the wheel of the situation, like he always did when Virgil was lost. It was one of the many reasons Virgil lo- no. That was clearly over.

“Yeah, okay. C’mon, I’ll show you the library.”

Logan lit up at the mention of the library, just as Virgil thought he would. Skies, he’d missed Logan. Virgil turned and headed out the hall, Logan keeping pace, neither one quite willing to begin the conversation. Five minutes of silent walking later, Virgil cracked.

“So, uh, I should probably start explaining. Uh, that was the year I was supposed to be, uh, questing. Y’know how the heir to the throne does that thing where we get assigned a magic quest by a musty box? Mine was to fetch a vial of water from the underworld. They gave me a whole year, but I, uh, I have a friend from the underworld, so truth was I got in and out of the place in two days. And then I just, I really wanted a break from being a prince for a year, so I just, well, took off. I ended up in Copper Forest, and you know the rest. So, uh, why were you in that cabin?”

“My story is actually fairly similar to the one I told. I was researching the community of nymphs in Copper Forest, but not for a book like I said. It was for a preservation project my family was trying to push in court. It passed, by the way.”

“I remember that one! I campaigned for that one because it reminded me of you.”

“Thank you.”

By now they had reached the library. Virgil smiled at Logan before throwing open the double doors as dramatically as possible. He watched as wonder took over the other man, lighting up his face entirely.

“Go on.” Virgil prompted, knowing Logan was barely restraining himself in the name of courtesy.

Logan rushed into the library, heading straight for the shelves. Virgil watched fondly, remembering the first time he’d bought a book for Logan. He thought back to the days they’d spent in that cabin, how simple and beautiful life had been for that one brief year. He remembered falling in love, he remembered what it was like to be able to come back from a small outing and lean in for a kiss, to go to the market and bring back some trinket that he’d thought Lo would like. He remembered it all, and he mourned it. Looking at Logan browsing the shelves like a kid in a candy store, he thought that it would never be the way it was before. And then Logan turned to him, smile bright as the sun, waving him over to show him a book, and he thought, maybe it doesn’t have to be.

They had miles to go to rebuild their trust, they had so much to discuss to get to really know each other, they had a much more complex world to navigate, but looking at that grin, Virgil thought that it would all be worth it.

[thefeelswhale]

The Nervous Energy in Everything - Part 4

Author’s Note: TW for narcissist parent. 

It was the most magical moment of his entire life so of course Hitoshi’s dad had to barge into it.  

“Why don’t you show Hitoshi your room?” He said to Izuku who jumped guiltily at the reminder that other people were in the room. 

“Oh! Um.” Izuku turned bright red and some of Hitoshi’s instant and embarrassed irritation with his father must have leaked through their connection because he gave Hitoshi a concerned look before tugging him away. It was clear to everyone involved -except his father who didn’t question it when he got his way- that Izuku wasn’t obeying an adult so much as he was getting Hitoshi away from his dad. “Here, it’s this way.”

Izuku’s room was little and would have been plain except for all the All Might posters.

“Wow.” Hitoshi turned a slow circle. They were still touching, but switched to holding hands. To his surprise they were still getting a little bit of transmission, but not to the degree they’d gotten from touching their marks. 

“Ah, haha.” Izuku rubbed the back of his head. “I’m a little bit of a fanboy.”

Hitoshi had a strong recollection just then of when he was twelve and still had his bedroom walls plastered in band pictures. They’d been torn down after he turned thirteen and got into a fight with his dad. Hitoshi didn’t remember what it was about, but he remembered what came after. It was one of the few times his uncles had been forced to intervene. Uncle Shouta had appeared in the doorway with a kind of stillness about him that Hitoshi never wanted to see again, took in the wreckage of the bedroom, and quietly said “I want a word” while maintaining eye contact with Hitoshi’s father.  

Hitoshi never found out what they talked about, but his dad never set foot in his room again. They didn’t even make eye contact for a week afterwards. His dad had offered to replace the posters a couple of times, but Hitoshi hadn’t trusted him not to do it again the next time he got mad so his walls had been bare for the past two years.

“It’s good.” He said, unable to convey his weird gratitude that his soulmate was allowed to like what he liked at home. 

Izuku cupped his own cheek with his free hand and Hitoshi was enveloped in something that felt like a hug from the inside out. 

“Woah.” Hitoshi wobbled on his feet and landed on the bed, hard on his butt. “You’re going to have to show me how to do that.” It felt amazing. “I had to sit out of bond management class in grade school.”

“It’s not hard.” Izuku sat next to him. “I’ll teach you whatever you want.” He promised. “I don’t have a lot of practice though. Ka… my old soulmate. He wore a cover all of the time.” He rubbed his wrist like it was an old aching wound. 

No guesses about where his first mark used to be. The skin was a little paler there when Hitoshi caught a glimpse of it.

His heart sank a little bit at the reminder that he wasn’t Izuku’s first. It didn’t matter, he reminded himself, because he was going to be the only one from here on out and anyway who in their right mind wore covers? Izuku’s old soulmate sounded like an asshole.

Hitoshi had had his soulmark for less than a day and it was amazing. He never wanted it sealed off. If the material of his shirt wasn’t thin enough to transmit bond contact he’d be shirtless at that very moment. Maybe it just went to show that any level of privilege could be taken for granted if you were born to it.

“What happened to him?” Hitoshi asked, but Izuku shook his head.

“Nothing. He’s fine.” There was a rich and terrible vein of unanswered questions in that statement. Hitoshi had no idea where, if anywhere, to start. “We just broke.” Izuku looked down and started to fidget with his hands. “You don’t have to be jealous.” He turned his face away. “I’m the one who gave up.”

Interestingly, Hitoshi realized he could tell when Izuku was telling the truth and when he was lying. That hadn’t exactly been a lie. Izuku didn’t really believe he’d been the one to break his old soulbond, but he didn’t have any better answers either. 

Hitoshi remembered the feeling that had crossed over to him when his soulmark came in; the grief, the disbelief, the… he didn’t really have a word for it. It had been like falling in love, but in reverse. ‘Giving up’ was one way to describe it, but to feel like that and then be able to truthfully say the other person was ‘fine’? He couldn’t believe it had been so simple.

“Hey.” Hitoshi had no idea what he was doing except that he didn’t like the idea that his soulmate’s first instinct was to not touch him. He caught Izuku’s wrist and gently tugged him closer. “C’mere.”

Izuku hugged like he’d heard of the concept or maybe seen it on TV once, but had rarely put it into practice himself. He was reluctant and awkward at first, but sank into Hitoshi’s side with enthusiasm as soon as he’d figured out where his arms went. 

He’d meant to keep the conversation going -to learn everything about his soulmate that he’d missed before they found each other- except he didn’t have a lot of experience with this kind of hugging either. He got plenty of affection from his uncles and his mom whenever she could slip it in past her quirk; turns out it was very different when the person you were hugging was both a cute boy and your soulmate. His brain shut down and it was kind of like being affected by his mom’s quirk, except way nicer and he was aware of everything going on. 

Someone tapped at the door and Izuku sat up to say, “Yes?”

When the door opened Hitoshi was aware just long enough to recognize his mom’s pinched and unhappy expression before everything whited out. 

He came back to himself alone in the room with an unhappy, anxious Izuku.

“You’re back.” Izuku cupped his face and titled Hitoshi’s face this way and that; checking his pupils, Hitoshi realized. When his mom quirked someone their eyes went totally white. 

“I… what happened?” He looked around. “Where did my mom go?”

“She left.” Izuku wet his lips. “I don’t know what happened. She wouldn’t talk to me.”

“No, she wouldn’t.” Hitoshi shook his head to clear it. He felt weird. Usually his mom’s quirk felt like the first few seconds of waking up from an amazing nap. This time it was… not like that. “Her quirk activates whenever she pays attention to someone.”

It was an amazing villain’s quirk if you were inclined that way, but super debilitating if you were an ordinary nice person. There were lingering side effects too if she accidentally used it on someone too many times. Hitoshi was immune to that part. He already loved his mom as much as he could, but strangers got weird obsessions with her. As a result she didn’t get out much and was totally reliant on her husband, who was also immune to her quirk by dint of being her soulmate.

“Oh yeah? Is it eye contact or just any amount of…” Izuku clapped a hand over his mouth. “Not the time.” He muttered and refocused on Hitoshi. “She hugged you really tight. Then she left. Maybe…” He gave the bedroom door an uncomfortable look. “...maybe we should check?”

Hitoshi was starting to get a bad feeling too. His dad had been trying to get rid of him earlier. That wasn’t a good sign, but he’d been too blissed out by meeting his soulmate to pay attention.  His mom couldn’t intervene whenever he started acting up without making it worse. She was stuck as a bystander.

“Yeah.” He grabbed Izuku’s hand. “Just for a minute.”

Only, his parents were gone by the time they went into the living room. A little round lady with Izuku’s features, softened by age and gentleness, looked up from where she was locking the door. 

“Oh, there are my boys.” She went over to pat their cheeks. “What an exciting day! How do you feel about something special for dinner? Do you like pork, Hitoshi-kun? We like katsudon for celebrations here, but I’ve got a full fridge. We can probably make anything you like.”

“Am… am I staying for dinner?” Hitoshi asked with a sinking stomach. He was pretty sure he knew what had just happened.

“Well, your father mentioned how much you’d like living with your soulmate.” She chuckled. Yup. She’d been Persuaded. “I just knew Izuku would love having you around too so I offered to let you live here.”

That… person had hustled him out of the room so there was no one around to stop him from manipulating Izuku’s mother into taking Hitoshi off his hands. His dad’s quirk, Persuasion, was incredibly difficult to protect someone against. The only way to stop him was to know about his quirk in advance. Usually Hitoshi knew to interfere before it was a problem --just, not today.

For whatever reason, Hitoshi’s dad had never liked him and made no bones about the fact that Hitoshi needed to have a new living situation lined up as soon as he turned eighteen. He was jovial most of the time and seemed to be kind of aware that he wasn’t acting right. Sometimes he’d try to make half-hearted overtures or make up for whatever awful thing he’d done or said recently. He wasn’t violent --much. He hadn’t ever hit Hitoshi, but he would break stuff or call him names or misrepresent him to people; making Hitoshi seem stupider or more trouble than he was in reality. 

Hitoshi knew the root of the problem was his mom although he could never blame her for it. She was the one who’d wanted a kid and his dad, for all his other faults, would move heaven and earth to get her anything she asked for. It just turned out that sharing her attention was the one thing he absolutely could not do or fake.

“Ma’am. I’m really sorry.” He gulped, realizing he didn’t know her name yet. “My dad used his quirk on you. It’s called Persuasion. He can talk anybody into agreeing with him or into doing something to make him happy.”

“I… what?” Izuku’s mom blinked slowly; the artificial happy buzz leftover from giving in to Persuasion was fading. Sometimes telling a person about his dad’s quirk right after helped them shake it off. It looked like this was one of those times. “I… I may need to sit down.”

“Mom, over here.” Izuku seemed to know what to do when she wobbled on her feet. “Hitoshi, there’s a little bottle in the end table over there. Could you grab it?”

The bottle contained honest-to-god smelling salts when Hitoshi got it. Izuku accepted it and cracked it open under his mom’s nose. The smell was ghastly, but startled her into clarity. She blinked hard and patted Izuku on the shoulder.

“Thank you, dear.” She patted her cheeks to settled herself. “Did…” She looked at Hitoshi and something in his expression made her pivot from upset to concern. “...honey, are you okay?”

His dad had just ditched him with strangers. That hug from his mom had been goodbye and he wasn’t even awake for it. No, he was not okay. 

“I can call my uncles.” Hitoshi swallowed on a hard, sore lump in his throat. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I’ll let that pass because we don’t know each other that well yet.” She got up and patted his cheeks with both hands. He had to bend over so she could do it, she was that tiny. “I’m going to worry. Ask Izuku. I worry about everything and this is definitely worth worrying about. Call your uncles please. Then we can discuss the situation.”

“It might be a bit before they can come get me.” Hitoshi apologized. “They’d have been here, but they had to work.”

“That’s fine, dear. You can have dinner here and we’ll work everything else out as it comes.” She glanced at her son. “Izuku, don’t forget to make that other call.” 

Izuku’s shoulders turtled up. “I won’t, mom.”

They had to split up to make their phone calls. Izuku seemed no more enthusiastic about makin his than Hitoshi was to call Mic’s station office. 

Ami-san, the agency-side receptionist, picked up on the first ring. “Present Mic agency and radio station!” She chirped. “If this is an immediate emergency then tap the line and I’ll start a trace on your number.”

“It’s Hitoshi.” He usually liked chatting with her, but his heart wasn’t in it right then.

“Oh, hi, honey!” Ami-san cooed. He’d known her since he’d been born and had spent more than one afternoon in a bassinet under her desk as a baby when his uncle’s station/agency had been located in the back of a garage. “What can I do for you? Mic told me the good news! Did you want me to slip him a note?”

“Could you?” He decided to just rip the bandage off. “My dad used his quirk on my soulmate’s mom.”

“You’re joking.” Her good mood evaporated. “He’s on probation! He knows he’s on probation!”

“He talked her into offering to take over custody of me.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” She got real quiet. “I… I’ll let Mic know. Don’t call Eraserhead until Mic can talk to him first. If she presses charges….” Ami-san let the sentence trail off without finishing it.

Quirk misuse laws operated on the three strike principle. If they reported it, this would be his dad’s third strike within five years. He’d gotten off with petty fines the last two times he’d gotten caught; convincing a cabby driver to pick him up over someone else and talking a panhandler into leaving him alone. Most people didn’t notice Persuasion, but sometimes someone with a really stubborn will or certain mental illnesses could shake it off by themselves and if they did they knew he’d tried to quirk them. If Izuku’s mom pressed charges then his dad was going to jail this time.

Hitoshi didn’t actually care about that much except for the ways it would affect his mom. She couldn’t work. She couldn’t talk to people. She had a small disability stipend and did some work as a freelance writer, but it hardly brought in anything. If his dad went to prison, even for a few months, then she would be the one who suffered most. 

The one thing his dad could be counted on was to not work against his soulmate’s interests. This time he either hadn’t thought far enough ahead or was banking on Hitoshi protecting his own mother over a stranger.

“We’ll make it work.” Hitoshi decided out loud. His uncles were proof she could live with other people. It wasn’t ideal, but they used a whiteboard and messenger apps to talk. 

“I’ll have Mic call you as soon as he’s off the air.” Ami-san promised. 

Hitoshi sat in the little tatami room he’d used to make his call. Someone had turned it into a computer room at some point, but it had a curious empty feel to it; like it belonged to someone who was long gone.

Izuku was finishing up his own call when Hitoshi went looking for him.

“...not yet.” He was saying. “The officers took my statement and samples off me at the second incident. The paramedics didn’t say anything when they sent me home, but Death Arms and Kamui Wood were… um… yelling so it was hard for them to talk. I’ll go if you think I should… yes, sir. Under the Dooku foot bridge. Through the manhole there. No, he had to leave once I came to. He left his autograph.” He paused and gave a dry little laugh. “Yes, sir. It was in two soda bottles. I noticed the one with the eyeballs in it was still moving. That’s why I hit it in the eyes afterwards.”

What.

“Bakugo Katsuki.” Izuku was still talking. “Yes, it probably got into his mouth. That’s how it happened to me; the nose and mouth. I wasn’t… I couldn’t breath. I don’t think he meant for me to live.” He wrapped his free arm around his knees. “He said something like ‘twenty seconds and it’ll all be over.’”

WHAT.

Hitoshi stood frozen in the door. He’d thought what his dad did was the worst thing that could possibly happen to him that day, but as he listened he realize Izuku was describing a villain attack; an attempted murder on himself. 

They had been within inches of never meeting each other in this life.

There were a lot of reasons Hitoshi wanted to be a Pro Hero. His uncles were a huge influence on him, but part of it was to prove to himself that he was nothing like that man. Now there was a whole new third reason.

“Yes, I’ll come in tomorrow after school if that’s okay.” Izuku said to the police officer he was apparently talking to. “Oh, um, the registry matched me up today. Ah, haha. Yes. Thank you. It was really good timing, actually. Okay, thank you. Goodbye.”

He ended the call, tossed his phone onto the bed, and flopped face first onto the mattress. 

Hitoshi suddenly understood why Izuku’s first instinct was to comfort him through their bond before. He had no idea if touching was good or bad right now. It looked like he had a lot to learn about being a soulmate. 

He tapped on the doorframe and Izuku looked up at him. The helpless smile that eased across his face did a lot to sooth Hitoshi’s exposed nerves.

“Hey.” He sat up and smiled, a little tired looking. Now that Hitoshi was looking he noticed a line of road rash up the outside edge of Izuku’s forearm, ending just below his elbow. It looked red, angry, and fresh. “How much did you hear?” 

“Enough to have a small heart attack.” Hitoshi felt like he was getting a green light to go over there so he did. Izuku catted into his touch so that his palm skated over the handprint on Izuku’s cheek. He got a brief window into his soulmate’s state of mind: he was tired for sure and running out of steam, but secretly (guiltily, even) glad to have Hioshi around for even just a little bit longer. “How did I not feel you get attacked?”

“Oh, that was me.” Izuku squirmed guiltily. “You’re supposed to pull away from the bond if you’re in danger and you don’t know where your soulmate is or what they’re doing. What if you were on stairs or handling a knife or something?” 

This was getting complicated.

“I guess I’ve got a lot to learn.” Hitoshi admitted. 

He was kind of angling for another extended hug, but a faint call of ‘supper!’ echoed down the hall. He could smell food too; really good food too. His mom tended to cook really healthy and he liked that, but the smells coming from Izuku’s kitchen were rich, fatty, and indulgent; comfort food on a day when no comfort could possibly be enough. Maybe he needed to move in with them after all…

Uncle Mic called while he was helping clean up. Izuku waved him off with a smile.

“Where are you?” There was wind in the background. “That son of a bitch isn’t answering his phone.”

Oh boy. Present Mic was swearing. This was bad.

He rattled off Inko-san’s address. “I’m okay.” He said. “My soulmate’s mom is mad at dad, but she seems okay with me. She fed us and said I can stay as-as long as I need to.”

“Okay, that’s ---good?” Mic took a breath and Hitoshi could picture him tugging on his hair. “Then I’ve got time to get out of costume. She’s probably not up to having a pro hero showing up on her front step, huh?”

“It’s been a rough day.” Hitoshi agreed and shielded the receiver so his voice wouldn’t carry. “Izuku, um ---my soulmate. He got hit by a street killer today. He’s okay. There was a hero in pursuit, but Inko-san almost fainted earlier. I don’t think it’d be a good idea to push it.”

Present Mic was, objectively, A Lot.

“By a… a what?” Mic snapped. “I thought you were in Aldera?”

“I am, I am.” 

“Hang on.” Mic carried multiple phones and Hitoshi could hear him get out the one he used exclusively for internet. It had a distinct noise when you unlocked the screen. “Aldera… street attacks…” He was quiet for a moment. “...well, alrighty then. This went down while I was on air. No wonder I missed it. Your boy is scrappy. He beat the crap out of some guy trying to kill a middle schooler with his backpack. All Might was responsible for the takedown. Okay, I’m a little less worried. The villain was a purse snatcher who escalated. That’s less terrible than a possible serial killer in the area.”

Hitoshi compared that to what he’d heard. “That sounds about right.” If he was right then that was the second incident. The first incident must have been when All Might caught the guy the first time. “Could you… could you talk to him about it? I don’t think the police really interviewed him.”

Hitoshi only had second hand knowledge of working with the cops, but he’d never heard of one taking a statement over the phone. Plus there was the matter of Mic’s official report only mentioning the second attack. There was a good chance that officer had just pretended to take the report and had really blown Izuku off. It wasn’t entirely negligent. People sometimes tried to insert themselves into big incidents, especially if it showed up on TV or a big name hero was involved.

“Sure can, buddy.” Mic’s tone went concerned. “Are you all right?”

Hitoshi couldn’t find words to describe how he was feeling. It had been easier to have opinions about Izuku’s problems. “It’s nothing I didn’t already know.” He said at last. 

“We’re coming to pick you up.” Mic promised. “If Hiroshi thinks he can kick you out of the house then he’s got another think coming. We’re gonna make this okay.”

“Okay.” Even Hitoshi could tell he didn’t sound convinced.

The doorbell rang about thirty minutes later. Izuku had pulled him over to the TV to watch the nightly Hero Report and got super into it. Hitoshi liked getting his after action breakdowns from spotter blogs and podcasts. Listening to his soulmate talk about the action on TV was like that, but better. Inko-san watched with them -alternating between that and an embroidery project- and seemed to amuse herself by asking her son questions about what was going on even though she clearly knew the answers.

Uncle Shouta stood at the door sans Uncle Mic and he looked pissed.

“Hitoshi.” He stared into the house over the top of Inko-san’s head. “We’re leaving.”

Hitoshi started to look for his shoes, but drew up short when Inko-san san said, “No. I don’t think you are.” 

She sounded like she was just barely keeping her knees from knocking together and when she stared up at Hitoshi’s uncle she looked like a bunny trying to stare down a Balrog. 

“Excuse me?” Uncle Shouta was dressed down for the evening, but spiritually channelling Eraserhead more than he normally would when faced with a middle-aged homemaker. 

“I am not comfortable sending Hitoshi-kun back into that house.” She didn’t back down and Hitoshi’s heart did something complicated and painful. “How does that --man act at home if that’s how he treats a stranger? Hitoshi-kun is my son’s soulmate. That means I have equal rights to him and I don’t want him back under that man’s roof.”

“It’s not his roof.” Uncle Shouta’s tone was a little less obstreperous than before. It might not seem like it, but Hitoshi’s maternal uncle responded best to logic and that was a good counter argument. “It’s my roof and all his shit’s gonna be in the yard as soon as I get home.”

That… answered some questions Hitoshi had been nursing about his family’s living situation. His dad had a good job and made good money, but he deferred to Hitoshi’s uncles in ways that made no sense --unless he was living in their house. 

Inko-san’s chin wobbled, but firmed up. “Then you can have Hitoshi-kun back as soon as he’s gone.” 

Uncle Shouta’s unsettling black gaze slid towards Hitoshi. “You okay with that?”

Hitoshi found the strength to nod. “Don’t kick mom out.” He probably didn’t need to ask. Uncle Shouta had been looking after his sister long before her soulmate or son came into the picture. Like Hitoshi, he wasn’t totally immune to her quirk but he didn’t get the creepy side effects from it. 

“I can’t stop her if she decides to go.” His uncle warned him and that was exactly what Hitoshi was afraid would happen. He looked back to Inko-san. “I’ll be back with an overnight bag for him.”

“Thank you.” Inko-san relaxed slightly. “I don’t know if we have anything comfortable to lend him for the evening.”

“It’ll be taken care of.” Uncle Shouta stepped back into the shadow of the open air corridor outside Inko-san’s door and vanished like Batman. She carefully shut the door when she realized he wasn’t going to say goodbye and was quiet until she got into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.

“Your uncle is… an intense person.” She said at last.

“He’s an Underground Hero.” Hitoshi explained and Izuku bopped a fist into his open palm.

“Eraserhead!” He realized out loud. Somehow it wasn’t surprising that Izuku knew about Eraserhead. He didn’t have a big following and was mortally embarrassed by what fandom he did have, but the people who knew about him at all often knew him very well.  

“Is he?” Inko-san relaxed a little further. “Well, then I hope he punches your father right in the nose.” Both her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she realized what she’d said.

“He might.” Hitoshi was a little worried about that. As ever, he didn’t really care if his dad had to deal with negative consequences except for how it affected his mom. 

Mic showed up with a packed overnight bag and his school stuff right about the time Hitoshi was wondering if he was going to have to sleep in his boxers. The upshot was that Inko-san had laid out a double futon in the living room floor without having to be persuaded to let them bunk together. She might have even let them share Izuku’s bed, except there was no hope in hell that they’d both fit on his undersized twin mattress at the same time. 

 Izuku did not recognize Mic, who was harder to spot out of costume because -unlike his husband- he actually put effort into it. He swept in and dazzled Inko-san straight off. Turned out she was weaker to a megawatt smile than to intimidation.

Despite that, Mic looked tired and kind of sore. Hitoshi REALLY hoped it wasn’t actual physical soreness from beating someone up. He still swept Hitoshi up in one of his big bear hugs. “Heya, kiddo.” His voice was a little raspy. “We’re working things out at the house. Shouta’s with your mom. Your dad… well. He’s, uh… he’s checking into a hotel.”

Inko paused as she set down a cup of tea on the coffee table for Mic. “Without Ayame-san?” She asked, confused.

Mic coughed. “Yeah, without Ayame-chan.” He sounded a little down. “She locked herself in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out unless he left. Shouta was still getting the story out of her when I had to leave. I think your dad still has her phone. I’m gonna go get her a new one after this and then you guys can text again.”

His dad keeping his mom’s phone for her wasn’t quite as creepy or controlling as it came off as, but Hitoshi couldn’t deny his dad liked gatekeeping his mom’s access to other people more than he should have. 

Hitoshi’s mom’s quirk was called ‘Siren’ for a reason. She could stun anyone she concentrated on, but the more subtle obsessive secondary effects weren’t universal. Hitoshi, Uncle Shouta, and Uncle Mic were immune because they were all either related to her, super gay, or both.

They’d figured out some loopholes that let her talk to other people. She could text so long as she didn’t hit ‘send’ herself or carry the phone around. Emails were safer, especially if they used a service that routed her outgoing mail through a couple of servers before delivering it. 

“Oh my.” Inko-san sat back on her heels. She glanced at Hitoshi. “I’ll let you two talk.”

“No, I…” Mic took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “...sorry, this actually concerns you too.” He glanced at Hitoshi. “I don’t think there’s a good way to bring this up so I’m just gonna do it.”

Well, that wasn’t unnerving at all. 

Izuku leaned into his side. He’d been quiet since Mic showed up, but stayed very close to Hitoshi. His presence was more settling than words could describe.

“Your mom says she wants a divorce.” Mic spoke slowly and carefully “Your Uncle Shouta is prepared to ram it through as soon as he possibly can. Knowing your dad though, he’s going to make it as ugly as possible. Some stuff is going to come up and we didn’t want you to have to know about it, but if I know Hiroshi he’s going to drag it all out into the open.”

That was how his dad operated when he wasn’t getting his way or felt under attack so Hitoshi didn’t necessarily agree. He knew his family situation was weird and most of it could be explained away by the fact that his mom needed a lot of support, but could be exposed to too many people. 

Not all of it.

Hitoshi’s dad made really good money. He could afford to buy whatever services she needed. They didn’t need to live with Hitoshi’s uncles, but they did.

“You’re not worried that he’ll try to get full custody of Hitoshi-kun, are you?” Inko-san asked. “I’ve heard of men doing that sometimes, even if they don’t get along with their children.”

“That’s, uh, not a concern for us.” Mic coughed and rubbed the back of his head. “That’s what I came to talk about really. You see… ah…” He squinted at Hitoshi and tried to smile. “Hiroshi isn’t your father. I am.”

Izuku reached over without a word and clapped a hand over Hitoshi’s sternum, squelching his first furious response before it could even happen. Hitoshi covered his soulmate’s hand with his own, holding it there and making use of the soothing vibrations of their bond for a couple of seconds before he could ask questions that weren’t ‘Are you out of your goddamn mind?’

“It’s not what it sounds like.” Mic hastened to reassure him. “You see, Ayame-chan wanted a baby really badly. Hiroshi turned out to be infertile. I was just a donor. You were born through IVF.”

That was way less bad than what Hitoshi had first assumed, given the way Mic had phrased that. For one awful moment he thought Mic had cheated on Uncle Shouta ---with Hitoshi’s mom no less.

“We thought Hiroshi was okay with it.” Mic went on to explain. “He seemed to look forward to you at first, but things changed when you were born. I think it wasn’t real to him before that or he hadn’t thought about what it would mean to be a father so…” He fought to keep an uncharacteristically grim look off his face and only met with middling success. “...he refused to let his name be listed on your birth certificate. Normally it doesn’t matter, but he made such a stink about it that the hospital agreed to put my name down. I’m your legal male parent and I share custody of you with Ayame-chan. Hiroshi isn’t involved.”

Holy crap.

Did that mean Uncle Shouta was both his uncle and stepdad? How did that even work?

“It’s going to be hard to get the divorce decree.” Izuku piped up. “I heard there’s precedent now for not granting separations to soul mates if one of them has a quirk disability and there’s no evidence of abuse.”

“Oh believe me, little li--guy...” Mic slid his glasses back on. “...my lawyers are used to way higher stakes. They’ll chew him up and pick their teeth with his bones. Shouta’s been after this for a long time too. No one was going to take her soulmate away from her, but if Ayame wants him gone then we’ll run him out of town on a rail.”

[soulmate-game]

I might make this a tumblr only mini-series of connected oneshots, and I might or might not put them up on AO3 when they are all done. We’ll see how I feel.

I know I submitted this AU to Multifandomscribette, but this is my take on the prompts I gave them. This is not the same AU, and I am not using their headcanons. Just the same basic premise of Marinette being Stephen Strange’s biological daughter.

You know Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, but this story is about

Lady Strange, the Grand Guardian.

What is with this family and alliteration?!

—*—*—*—*—*

Stephen Strange was a narcissistic, emotionally constipated bastard. But he was rich, well known, and handsome, which counted for a lot when he decided he needed some time to relax, unwind, maybe with another human.

And when Sabine Cheng realized what had happened, that night she had catered for a high society medical conference gala in the States, she vowed to never drink again.

She also vowed to never tell Strange about the child growing in her womb. The only person she ever told about her child’s true origin was Tom Dupain, the man she started dating a month after her chance encounter with Doctor Stephen Strange. Nine months after that, when Marinette was almost a month old, she would propose to Tom in blatant disregard of tradition. She would be waiting for years if she wanted Tom to get up the courage to ask her, and even though it hadn’t been a full year yet Sabine knew what she wanted. Seeing the gentle way Tom held her daughter, their daughter, seeing the way he looked at the little baby as if she hung the stars for him, well that only solidified the little Chinese woman’s love for the french man.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng would not know about her true father’s origin until she was twelve, when a science lecture at school had her asking Sabine who had blue eyes in each of their blood lines.

When Sabine hesitated, Marinette knew instantly that something was wrong. Sabine never hesitated. She was a whirlwind of decisiveness, always knowing what to say and how to act. Hesitation wasn’t a part of her.

Sabine told her everything. How her biological father was someone she only met once, how he was a successful surgeon who had won many medical awards. How he didn’t know she existed.

Of course, Marinette was immediately obsessed. Hurt by her mother’s secrecy, she turned her feelings of betrayal into curiosity and researched everything that there was to research about Stephen Strange. Apparently blue eyes ran on his side of the family. His own were more icy than hers, closer to a blue-gray, but familiar all the same. Both his parents were already dead though, so there went her hope of having another set of grandparents.

Marinette even went so far as to read the research papers he had written, and did follow-up research until she understood as much of it as she could. It helped that Professor Mendeleiev was more than willing to sit down and go over the medical papers with her so they could try to understand it all together.

One day, while Marinette was sewing a new dress, she paused with her needle in the air and stared at her fingers. After that day, she took much more pride than before in how steady her hands were. Her father was a surgeon, it must have been a biological trait. She clung onto anything that connected her to the oh-so mysterious Stephen Strange.

And then came Marinette’s thirteenth birthday. The same day that Stephen Strange was in a car accident and deemed in critical condition.

If Marinette kept an app for American news sources on her phone and set them to alert her if the name of her biological father was mentioned in any reports? Well, her parents didn’t need to know.

She didn’t tell her parents about the reason she was so morose for the rest of the day. She didn’t tell anyone.

She cried herself to sleep when Doctor Stephen Strange was declared to have irreversible nerve damage in his hands, and again when he went missing on a mysterious “vacation” that no media sites seemed to have any information on. She didn’t know why she felt so much connection and pain for someone she had never met, but she couldn’t help it. She would keep researching, keeping her eyes out for any mention of the man online without any luck.

That is, until Master Fu and the Miraculous entered her life. Slowly, she began to neglect her obsession with her biological father. Her passing crush on Adrien Agreste even faded away, never having much traction to begin with because of her overlying concern for the father that didn’t even know he had a daughter.

When Marinette was fourteen, the city of Paris was flooded and she had to swim through the quickly bloating bodies of the dead in order to defeat an Akuma. She reversed the damage and everyone who died was resurrected with no memory of their demise, but Marinette would never forget. All it took was a glimpse of the wrong face on the streets and she would be overcome with a panic attack, with the sight of glassy eyes and blue faces.

That was when Hawkmoth’s attacks picked up in intensity. When people began to die during Akuma attacks more frequently. When Marinette stopped sleeping in quite so much.

Her obsession over her father was a mere footnote by then, something she would idly look into on her ever increasingly rare free time with no success.

When Marinette was fifteen years, six months, two weeks, and two days old, Master Fu died. Marinette assumed the alias of Lady Strange, alongside her identity of Ladybug, so that the Miraculous wielders could contact her and know she was the new Guardian without knowing that she was also their leader in the field.

On the one year anniversary of Lady Strange being the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous, there was a worldwide magical disturbance.

Unlike Fu, Marinette did not limit herself to reacting to Miraculous problems.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Stephen glided back down from the equivalent of thousands of years bargaining and dying with Dormammu, he expected Hong Kong to be in a mess. It had been, from what he remembered of the scene before he created the time loop.

But it wasn’t. Instead, the streets looked as if no damage at all had been created. Kaecilius and his remaining zealots were tied up, quite literally, in what looked like string and hung upside down from a lamp post. Sitting down on the curb of the sidewalk and giving him a dangerously sharp glare was a young woman in a spotted costume, a mask over her face. When Strange realized he could not get any of her features to stick in his memory, he realized what she was.

Another magic user, but different from a Sorcerer. Her Neptune blue eyes bore into him with an intensity he was wholly unprepared for, but had no problem baring. After dying almost a million times, a guy tends to grow a backbone of vibranium.

Wong and Mordo stood on either side of the girl, both at a respectful distance. Wong had this wide-eyed look on his face, so much more expressive than usual that it caught the new Sorcerer Supreme off guard. Wong looked… awed?

Mordo, on the other hand, was regarding the girl with a look of barely disguised disdain and distrust. That was in character though, so Stephen didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, he walked over even as his bargain with Dormammu kicked in and Kaecilius’s cult was banished to the Dark Dimension.

“You reversed the damage, then?” He asked without beating around the bush, glancing down briefly to assure that the Eye was, indeed, still on him. It was. The girl stood up, her eyes continuing to blaze with an unknown soup of emotion.

“I did,” she confirmed easily. It wasn’t until he stopped only a few feet away from her that the sorcerer noticed how small she was. The only detail his mind allowed to stick with him besides that fact was that she also looked young. Too young to have to deal with a mess like this. “You might not know of me. The Temple Of Guardians made a deal centuries ago that all records of their existence and our own magic be removed from any Sorcerer sanctums.”

“The temple that appeared in Tibet out of nowhere more than a year ago?” Strange asked, eyebrow raised. “I remember the Ancient One briefly mentioning how much of a hassle it was to hide their reappearance and teleport the temple’s location somewhere new. I was under the impression that all the members of that temple have been in a pocket dimension separate from this reality for almost two hundred years.”

“They have,” the girl confirmed with a nod. “But before that, one of the Guardians escaped that fate. He became the Grand Guardian, and was my teacher until he passed last year. He named me the new Grand Guardian to take his place,” she turned, looking at something that Stephen couldn’t see. “I have illusions keeping us from being seen by the crowd, but it would be better if we took this inside the sanctum,” she said, nodding her head to the Hong Kong Sanctum’s door behind them. Strange simply nodded, more than willing to distract himself from his immeasurably long torture by indulging his curiosity. If this girl showed up and went out of her way to repair the damage the sorcerers and Kaecilius caused, then he wanted to know why.

“Wait,” Mordo barked, walking up to have a heated discussion with Strange that ended in the former storming off. Stephen knew he should be concerned about his former friend’s desertion, but he couldn’t muster up the energy for it yet. Focusing on the mysterious girl in a ladybug suit was an easier topic for his exhausted mind to latch onto.

When they got inside, the Sorcerer Supreme saw that she had even reversed the damage in the building. He saw a few scattered disciples rubbing their heads and looking around in confusion from their spots crouched on the floor. Stephen was almost certain he had seen those same people as corpses before.

The ladybug-spotted girl had scarcely removed her gaze from him for even a second, and easily picked up on the older man’s train of thought.

“My powers reversed all the damage I could handle, including physical wounds and death,” she told him. Strange blinked.

“That explains why I thought you all looked odd. Your clothes are spotless and you don’t look like you’ve fought at all,” he directed that comment to Wong, who merely nodded. “But that doesn’t explain how you can do such a thing. I’ve been intensely studying magic and magic theory for the past almost three and a half years, and I haven’t come across any healing spell that can be this effective without the subject of the healing themselves helping to work the power through their body. I know you are not a sorcerer like we are, but what exactly is your magic? Who are the Guardians? And who exactly are you?”

The girl pursed her lips, waiting until the two older men led her to the still-wrecked tea room. Her power hadn’t been able to reach that far when she had to focus on reviving so many people without the regular Cure. That only worked on victims of Miraculous magic, what she used on the Hong Kong streets and the Sorcerers was a more advanced usage of Tikki’s powers that she learned from both Fu and her periodic visits to the Tibet temple.

“The Guardians are a group of monks dedicated to the protection and distribution of Miraculous, which is essentially magic jewelry. I would normally go on to say how this might sound unbelievable, but you have a very similar pendant around your neck right now,” she pointed out once they all sat and Wong conjured some tea for them all. Stephen tensed at her mention of the Eye of Agamotto, his eyes narrowing. Did she..?

“I know what is inside the Eye,” she confirmed his silent thought, her voice soft but firm. “And I don’t care about it in the slightest. It is probably a good reference point for my explanation though. At the birth of the universe—“

“The Stones came into existence, each one representing and controlling a core aspect of reality,” Strange interrupted impatiently. “I am the Sorcerer Supreme, girl, I already know that.”

The young female rolled her eyes, huffing. “If you listened patiently, you would know that the story you were told is only partially true,” she snapped back with false patience. “The Stones were not the only things of great power to be created during the birth of the universe. Kwami, the first living beings to be born, were also created. They are each living representations of abstract concepts, some of which overlap with the powers of the Stones. The first to be born is the Kwami of Creation. She is essentially the goddess of creation itself, the living embodiment of that very term in every way. She is the source of my abilities, she lends me her power as I am her chosen Wielder. It is that same power of creation that allowed me to essentially counteract the destruction that was caused today, by having a condensed form of her power combat the direct source of the destruction and nullify it. The second Kwami to come into existence is her counterpart and the only one equal to her in power, the Kwami of destruction. There are a lot more, including the Kwami of illusion that used her power to keep us from being seen outside. And the Kwami Of time, which allowed me to experience the time loop you created,” the girl’s eyes sharpened again, boring into his own. “I left it after the equivalent of a few weeks, when I realized I couldn’t join you and do anything to help. The Kwami Of Time is about two-thirds as powerful as the Stone by itself, and there are more than double the amount of Kwamis as there are Infinity Stones,” she took a deep breath. “My job as Grand Guardian is protecting all of them, and distributing the jewelry they are bound to as necessary to combat world or reality threatening events.”

Strange remained quiet after that, drinking in the information and doing his best to wrap his head around it. Perhaps this young woman wouldn’t mind telling him more at a later date, especially seeing as they held equivalent ranking in two separate secret magical organizations. His eyes trailed down to a necklace she was wearing.

“How many of these pieces of jewelry—“

“Miraculous,” She corrected. “That is what they are called.”

“... Miraculous, then. How many are you capable of wielding at once, if they are so similar in strength to a Stone?” Wond asked, crossing his arms. The pigtailed girl leaned back from her spot sitting on the ground with them, humming in thought for a second as she decided what to tell them. A glance at Stephen seemed to make up her mind.

“Creation and Destruction hold equal power to a Stone. The Miraculous one stage lower than that hold four-fifths the power of a Stone. The last tier, where the Time Miraculous sits, is two-thirds,” she told them from memory. “I can wield Illusion, which is on the second tier, along with two third-their, and both Creation and Destruction at the same time,” she admitted. “But it saps a lot of my energy and I rather not ever do that again, if you don’t mind. I can wield all of the Miraculous though, since all of the Kwamis like me and are loyal. I can wear any three at a time, and I can switch between them as quickly as I need to.”

Strange really needed some sleep. Five thousand year’s worth of sleep would be nice. He ran a hand over his forehead, wondering who in the world gave this much responsibility and power to a child.

“One last question, and then you can spend the night if you wish, we’ll begin reconstruction of all the Sanctums in the morning,” Stephen spoke, forcing his back to straighten and his eyes to meet the girl’s. “You never answered it, actually. Who are you?”

The girl's mouth twitched in the first semblance of a smile he had seen on her yet.

“When I am in this transformation, I am Ladybug the hero of Paris,” she said with a grin. “Spots off.”

A soft pink glow ran down her body, very similar to the ring of power that sling rings produced to make portals. It left behind an adorable teenage girl with blue-black hair pulled back into pigtails, and striking blue eyes. She was clearly of Asian descent, but there was something else very familiar about the sharpness of her jaw or the stubbornness in her lip.

“My real name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. However, I go by an alias whenever I act as Grand Guardian, so that there is an extra layer of secrecy to protect me and my loved ones. I created that alias based on my biological father, who was never told that I was even conceived,” she said meaningfully, never losing eye contact with Stephen. His eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s pitiful, but what does—“

“My alias is Lady Strange.”

Wong barked out a short laugh before he forcibly covered his mouth, his eyes filled with sadistic amusement as he watched Strange’s reaction. The elder Strange, that is.

The new leader of the Sorcerers opened and closed his mouth like a fish, completely caught off guard. He looked over to Wong.

“Is there a spell to test paternity?” He asked warily. Marinette’s smile fell a bit, but Wong nodded.

A few flashes of orange light and two green ‘99% Match’ results later, Strange let his head fall into his hands.

“Alright, Marinette,” he finally managed to mumble through the slightly trembling appendages still covering his face. “I just spent thousands of years in a time loop with the Lord of Chaos, my back aches, my head aches, I will deal with this in the morning. Or whenever I wake up. Figures my own blood relation would end up in a position of extreme magical power, must be genetic. I still have questions, but sleep comes first. Don’t expect me to be a good parent. I really need sleep.”

Marinette just giggled, standing up and helping her father to his feet with surprising ease. “Just tell me where to go and I can drop you off in your room. No more magic for the rest of the day, you’re clearly spent. And as long as you make an effort, I’ll be fine. But don’t expect to ignore me and I’ll just go away, I have ways to track you to the ends of the universe and across the multiverse and time itself, and I will not hesitate.”

“Yep, she’s your daughter alright.”

“Sleep, Wong. It’s good for the brain.”

[coffeecomicsgalore]

A Little Rain, A Big Love Story

Ao3

This is my submission for the @luckycharmzine! I hope you enjoy the Ladynoir Identity Reveal Scene.

------

Ladybug looked across the dark Parisian skyline, allowing the cool breeze to sweep over her. It was still fairly warm out, the heat of the summer day seeping into the night. The cool breeze felt welcomed against her exposed skin.  

Chat Noir sat beside her as they relaxed on their favorite beam on the Eiffel Tower. As usual, it was an easy night of patrolling. There was nothing besides a stray cat stuck in a tree and two young boys arguing over a pack of trading cards. They didn’t have to stress over an akuma or deal with police-solving issues. So, when they have nights like this – quiet, peaceful, and relaxing – it made their conversations quite comforting. 

While they couldn’t talk much about their civilian lives and risk revealing too much, they did enjoy giving each other a glimpse of themselves. It would only be little things, like favorite colors, snacks, or subjects. Things that were common enough that neither could guess easily, yet they still relished in those little tidbits of information. 

Trusting yourself in your partner without knowledge of who they were underneath the mask was a risk, but Ladybug would risk her life for him on any occasion. 

If he would let her, that is. 

“You know.” Chat started, continuing to look towards the skyline as he spoke. “You would really like my friends. We are so close. I don’t know what I would do without them.” He ended with a satisfied hum as his lips quirked into a small smile. 

Ladybug looked over to her partner and grinned. He looked so at peace tonight. It was a pleasant change to their last conversation where he seemed distressed and distracted. She missed it when her kitty didn’t ooze silliness out of his suit. 

“I know what you mean.” She looked back out to the skyline as he turned to look at her. “Do you remember that boy I had that major crush on?” 

“You mean the one that never gave you the time of day?” 

She scoffed and pushed his shoulder teasingly. “Chat!” 

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. Go ahead.” 

Ladybug side-eyed him for a moment. When she felt like he wasn’t going to continue teasing, she proceeded. “Well, over the last two years, especially after me trying to get over said crush on him, we grew closer. I consider him to be one of my best friends. Like so close that he is a close tie to my best girlfriend. But I won’t tell her that. I enjoy my life too much to succumb to imminent death.” They both laughed. “But anyways, he said something today and it reminded me of you. I think you two could be close friends.” 

“Why? Does he have amazing puns like moi?” He joked, bringing his hand to his chest as he mentioned himself.  

“Actually, yeah. I didn’t even know he could joke like that. But you would appreciate his puns. Sometimes I think he could probably out-pun you.” 

“Out pun the pun master? Never.” 

“I know of one other person that could probably out pun you, chaton. But I can’t mention who.”  

“I guess I will have to battle your friend in a pun duel then. I need to keep this knight and shining leather fighting by your side, puns and all.” 

Ladybug shook her head. “I have enough room in my heart for all three of my pun masters. No dueling required. I promise.” 

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Chat noticed that her face softened, but her eyes meant she was a distance away. 

“You okay, bugaboo?” He inquired, just enough softness in his voice to allow her to talk her feelings through, but also enough to show her he wouldn’t pry. 

She sighed, but decided to tell him. “Even though he’s my best friend, a part of me will always love him. Do you know how difficult it is to force yourself to move on considering he’s constantly in my life? Of all the people that have come into my life, no one has caught my eye or my heart like he has.” Ladybug turned to him. Chat could see the sadness in her face. “Actually. There has been one other person, but it’s just not possible. At least not right now.” 

Chat eyed her with a mix of fondness and sadness. Seeing her feel like this broke his heart, and he knew exactly how she felt.  

“I know what you mean.” He looked back towards the sky, the last two years crossing his mind. The relationships he had made and lost were pressing against his heart and he ached from the pain. “Letting go of the one you love, especially when they’ve made a significant impact in your life, is hard. But love has never been easy. No matter how much you try to move on, it still lingers.” 

Ladybug turned to Chat and took his hand, squeezing the love she had for him through her fingers. “I love you, Chat, more than you can begin to know. But you have to understand, you were never meant to be second best. You deserve someone who will love you with their whole heart.” She looked down and laughed bitterly. “And unless luck is truly on my side, maybe the boy I love is really you beneath the mask. Once Hawkmoth is defeated, I want to know who you are. You will always have a place in my life and my heart no matter how this chapter of our lives end.” 

They gazed into each other’s eyes as her words etched themselves into the spot in his heart reserved for her. Chat was the first to break the gaze, looking back out into the Parisian skyline as a comfortable silence mingled between them. When Chat finally swallowed the strangling pain in his throat, he confessed. 

“You know. I’ll always love you, bugaboo. A part of me always had. It always will. I’ve tried to move on and date other people, but no one besides this one girl, my best friend, has ever caught my eye.” 

Ladybug looked at him and smiled even as a twinge of jealousy ran through her body. She shrugged it off and placed her head on his shoulder. Their fingers laced together as they enjoyed the small embrace. If she couldn’t love him in the way they both wished she could, she could at least love him like this. “That girl is lucky to have your heart.” 

They sat there in another comfortable silence before Chat scrunched his face and let out a breathy chuckle. 

“What’s so funny?” She asked, lifting her head up from his shoulder to look at him. 

“Well, it has something to do with that girl. You know, I don’t think anyone knows this, so I think I’m in the clear to say it.” Ladybug scrunched her nose, but then decided it would probably be fine. She gave him a nod to continue. “She became my first self-initiated friend when I started school. There was a huge misunderstanding. I almost lost her friendship before building one.” 

“That seems extreme. What happened?” 

“On my first day, she thought that I was trying to target her. She had always been bullied by one of my longtime friends, so she assumed I was the same way. Believe it or not, I’m socially awkward. I didn’t know any of the dos and don’ts of making friends.”  

Ladybug could see his face visibly soften. 

“It was raining and we were the only two standing outside as I was leaving to go home. I don’t know why, but something just compelled me to talk to her, to tell her that I didn’t have any friends, that everything was still so new to me. I almost left but then turned around. I told her I was sorry that I made her believe that I played a cruel prank on her. I told her that I only had one friend before that day and at the time, I didn’t want to lose that friendship either.” 

Chat continued to look out at the skyline, but Ladybug had caught on to something interesting about his story. It was one that was strangely similar to her own story. One that no one else would know of. 

“Once I apologized, I gave her the umbrella I had. I mean, my car was right there so it didn’t bother me to get a little wet. But I just didn’t want her to get soaked going home and I didn’t know how long the rain was going to be around for. I didn’t know where she lived and I didn’t realize that she lived so close to the school, but I couldn’t just let her get soaked.” 

He let out a lovesick sigh and let out a chuckle before looking down at his claw to examine his ring. “Honestly, I think that was the first moment that I started to fall for her. I just didn’t realize it because I was so infatuated with you.”  

Ladybug looked to him with such softness. Tears were welling up in her eyes and a blush donned her cheeks. Chat looked up at her and started to worry, afraid that he said something he shouldn’t. 

“That moment is a moment too beautiful to forget.” She said, wiping the tears that started to fall in front of her mask. “She is lucky to have such a caring person in her life, chaton.” 

Chat finally smiled. “Yeah, she’s so caring that I’m afraid to lose her. She’s shy around me sometimes. I’m afraid that she’ll reject me if I ask her out.” 

“I think you should ask anyways. I bet she’ll say yes.” 

He thought for a moment before asking her. “What about you?” 

“I guess since you told me about your bestie, I should tell you about mine.” She snickered. “Every time I tried to confess to him, something went wrong. Like this scarf I made him, or the valentine I tried to send him, or the doctor’s note I gave him instead of a love confession, the video love confession that got deleted. Oh, and the beret... it just never worked out before.” She shrugged. 

Guess it doesn’t matter now because she could finally confess without having to do it first.  

“You see. I fell in love with this boy who I thought was a bully. I thought he put gum on my chair and was a prissy rich kid because he was best friends with the girl who hated my guts. But then he apologized and handed me his umbrella in the rain. That simple act of kindness and his laughter after I accidentally pressed the close button on the handle filled my soul with so much love, that I couldn’t let it go.” 

Ladybug turned to Chat to see that he was wide eyed and jaw slacked. 

“No wonder why I couldn’t let it go.” She smiled with so much love in her eyes that she could not contain the giggle that bubbled up within her. “I guess I was lucky after all.” 

“Marinette?” He said so quietly, afraid that the conversation would crack and leave them in a different world. 

“Hi Adrien.” She replied back softly. 

Chat cupped her cheek with his claw and rubbed his thumb against the line between her mask and her skin. “It’s really you. I fell in love with you twice.” 

“And I never stopped loving you. My love only grew.” 

He leaned in and nuzzled his nose against hers. She sighed at the contact, her eyes pleading. He leaned in and kissed her lips, slow and soft but full of love and want. When they pulled back, they looked at each other as rain started to fall around them, the clasp of thunder bringing them back to that very first moment that sealed their fate. 

“My lady. I love you.” 

“I love you too, my chaton.” 

[writings-of-a-daphodil]

Fire Keeper: Chapter 2

Douxie x fem reader

Series Summary: You are Jim's older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures.

Masterlist in bio!

Chapter 1: https://writings-of-a-daphodil.tumblr.com/post/626769179653046272/fire-keeper-chapter-1

Chapter 2 summary: You get to see Trollmarket and meet Vendel.

"Hey Douxie," You said smiling at him as he walked past you. Another day of work was coming to a close and you were excited to go home and talk to Jim. You hadn't had the chance earlier with Blinky and Aaarrrgghh's vist and the near miss with your mom coming home. Then it was a school day so you didn't see each other that morning because he left early. Now was the perfect time to talk, your mom was at the clinic and it would be just the two of you.

You had to admit you were worried and scared along with excited. Not only was Jim apparently chosen to be some kind of superhero, but you apparently had some kind of magic. Or at least you were pretty sure you had magic, you weren't an expert or anything.

You were about to open the door to exit the bistro, this time checking where you were going, when Douxie called out to you, "Hey Y/n, do you have a second?"

You turned around. "Yeah, what's up."

"I was wondering, do you like books?"

"Yes..."

"Well, I work at a bookstore and some new books came in if you want to check them out." He smiled at you charmingly and handed you a business card that said GDT Arcane Books.

"I'll have to check it out some time," you said, turning around to leave.

"See you soon Y/n." You grinned as you stepped outside and you felt your heart was beating oddly. You had to admit that you felt excited and giddy over yours and Douxie's conversation. You took a deep breath and tried not to let it go to your head as you started walking towards your car. Douxie was known as a bit of a flirt.

It was a bit of a long walk to your car. You had to park far away today, traffic sucked and the construction wasn't making it any better.

You turned the corner and crossed the street, something felt off and you were eager to see Jim. You smiled politely at the workers as you speed walked away. You began to get out your keys when you heard Jim call your name.

You looked up to see your little brother and Toby on their bikes. "Hey guys, how was school?"

"Jim had to try out for Romeo and Juliet because the amulet activated," Toby explained and you laughed.

"Did you at least get the part?" You asked jokingly. "I don't know, but I'll tell you all about it at home," Jim said. Then he sighed. "I don't know how I'll find the time to do that and the troll hunting thing too."

"Toby and I have your back Jim." You gave your brother a reassuring pat.

"That's right Jimbo," Toby affirmed.

"So what distressed you so much that your amulet reacted?" You asked, backing towards your car.

"That's just it I wasn't distressed back at school," Jim explained.

You opened your mouth to answer, but a thud stopped you. The three of you turned your attention to see whatever it was and found a gigantic black troll standing up the street. It let out a loud roar.

"But I'm in distress now!" Jim yelled hopping onto his bike.

"Trollhunter, Merlin's Creation, Gunmar's bane!" The black troll called out and you realized that this was the troll, Bular, Blinky had mentioned. You shuddered, he was much more terrifying than you imagined.

The three of you stood there frozen until Toby spoke up, "I think he's talking to you Jimbo."

Bular roared again and tried to charge at the three of you, but stopped short. He fidgeted in the shade, growling.

"He's afraid of the sun!" Jim said, sounding slightly relieved.

"Not for long," Toby said, his voice filled with worry.

"The amulet! Surrender it, and I will give you a speedy death!" Bular yelled, creeping closer as the sun began to set. Jim looked back at you and saw your determined face.

"Y/n, get in your car and drive, find Blinky and Aarrrgghh! Toby, go with her!"

"I am not leaving you Jim," you protested.

"Yeah, Jimbo, neither am I. And there is no way I am leaving my bike here," Toby added.

"Fine, but Y/n go find the trolls and meet us at the bridge."

"This goes against all my big sister instincts,” you sighed, “but I'll go. But only so I can get Aaarrrgghh so he can fight that thing. Stay safe!"

You quickly got in your car and drove away towards the bridge. You didn't really know where you would find Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, but home sounded like your best bet. They were there yesterday after all, why wouldn't they come again after dropping that stuff on your brother?

You made a sharp turn onto your street and another one onto your driveway. You barely had time to take the key out of the ignition before you were out of the car and locking it. The sun was almost gone but still high enough to burn the trolls so you sprinted towards the cover of the woods.

"Blinky!? Aaarrrgghh!?" You whisper-shouted their names over and over again until you felt someone tap on your shoulder. You held in a scream as you whirled around to see Aaarrrgghh standing behind you.

“Hi,” he said in his calming voice and you smiled. Now that you had found the trolls the three of you could help Jim and Toby.

“Oh thank goodness I found you. We’ve got a situation. Bular is chasing Jim and Toby, we need to meet them by the bridge.

“Ah, let us go help them then,” Blinky said, turning to run. You broke into a steady jog as you followed them.

The three of you raced to go help your little brother and fear gripped you. It was obvious that Jim was strong, but you were still worried.

Just as you broke out of some trees Jim and Toby rode up on their bikes.

“Master Jim!” Blinky laughed excitedly and you took a deep breath in relief. Jim and Toby were safe.

“Did you tell them what happened?” Jim asked, trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah,” you replied, doing the same. You took a few more breaths and all you could think of was how grateful you were that they were safe.

“Look at you, you're still alive. I knew you had potential Master Jim,” Blinky said, smiling wide. He seemed genuinely proud of Jim and you found yourself growing to like and respect the troll a bit more.

“You have a sweet voice, but you bring death with you!” Toby accused as he still tried to catch his breath. You realized that while your brother and his friend were here and alive, they hadn’t exactly lost Bular.

“You can fight him, right?” Jim asked, exasperated and you had to agree you were begging in to feel the same.

“I could not hope to possess the skill to defeat Bular,” Blinky said.  

“What about him? He’s big,” Toby asked and I nodded,” Aaarrrgghh could help.

“Pacifist,” was all Aaarrrgghh said and you sighed, but you had to respect his choice.

“What a waste of a hulking brute,” Toby mumbled and you laughed.

“Thanks,” Aaarrrgghh responded.

Nobody else was able to say anything as Bular once again showed and let out a roar.

“We’ll be safe in Trollmarket!” Blinky yelled, leading the way. The three of you began sprinting while Jim and Toby began peddling. You put all your energy into running and getting away from Bular. As you went through the streets in an attempt to get to the forest Toby’s bike hit something and he fell. Thankfully Aaarrrgghh caught him and you were able to get on your way.

You made it to the canal and the four of you minus Jim went under the bridge. Panic gripped you again as you saw Jim just barely get his armor on and fly into the canal.

Bular began calling out threats that chilled you to the bone because you knew if he got the chance he would go through with them.

They began fighting and you took a few steps towards him. If you could activate your magic then maybe you could help Jim.

Aaarrrgghh grabbed your arm, “No.”

“But I can help him!” You protested and your hands began glowing the same bright orange color as the other day. You held them out in front of you and the same fiery blast rippled out of your hands and nearly hit Bular. It fortunately distracted Bular, but it unfortunately distracted Jim as well, gaining him no advantage.

“What was that? How did fire come out of her hands?” Toby asked, shocked.

“That, Tobias was unpracticed magic which is also why Ms. Lake should not be allowed to fight. You might accidentally hurt Master Jim,” Blinky explained.

“Fine,” you relented, stepping inside the barrier which was quickly closing.

“Jim!” you called out to him right as the barrier closed. Panic gripped you, he was almost inside.

Blinky and Aaarrrgghh reacted, though. You and Toby watched in nervous fear as the two trolls did something and were able to pull Jim inside the barrier. It all happened in a matter of seconds, but your nerves were still fried.

“Oh Jim, you’re okay!” you exclaimed pulling him and Toby into a quick group hug.

The five of you began walking down the gigantic and gorgeous crystal staircase. You marveled at the blue and purple beauties as Blinky and Aaarrrgghh explained things.

If you had thought the staircase was gorgeous, you were blown away by the beauty of Trollmarket.

There were hundreds, maybe thousands of gemstones, all in different, spectacular, colors. It was the most beautiful place you had seen.

Blinky and Aaarrrgghh began leading you through the Trollmarket and you were amazed by all the different trolls there and their diversity. Just from glimpses at their lives you could see that they had a rich culture and possibly an even richer history.

The two trolls brought you three to a sort of balcony that overlooked a chasm and beyond it an island that held the largest gemstone you had ever seen. It was spectacular. The orange color was the same as your magic and you felt a connection to the gemstone, or the Heartstone as Blinky and Aaarrrgghh called it. The name Heartstone Trollmarket now made sense to you.

After a confrontation with a blue troll named Draal—who kind of reminded you of a cross between a gemstone, reindeer, and a hedgehog—the five of you continued on your tour through the market, arriving at The Hero’s Forge.

Eventually your tour was interrupted by Vendel, who was apparently the elder troll.  You laughed as he grilled Toby about being the Trollhunter, but stopped when Jim stepped forward with the amulet.

Vendal and Blinky began to argue and Vendel expressed his unhappiness that Jim was the Trollhunter and though you wanted to protest, you held your tongue when Aaarrrgghh gently shook his head at you.

You almost ignored his advice when Vendel ordered Jim to use something called the Soothcryer. When Jim’s test was declared inconclusive you decided that enough was enough and no one would speak to your little brother like that.

“Pardon, but just because your test is ‘inconclusive,’ doesn’t mean that Jim is any less of a Trollhunter and it also doesn’t mean that Blinky is any less of a trainer for believing in him.” You glared at Vendel and unclenched your fists which you realized were glowing.

“Hmm, who are you?” He asked

“Y/n Lake, Jim’s older sister.” You said, continuing to glare.

“So the Trollhunter’s sister is a sorceress, very interesting. If you have a minute I would like to speak with you privately,” Vendel said, walking away.

“You should go speak with him, Ms. Lake. Vendel is a very knowledgeable troll when it comes to magicks and perhaps you will learn something,” Blinky advised and you nodded.

“Blinky right. Vendel smart,” Aaarrrgghh said.

“Thank you, both of you,” you said to the two trolls.

“You are most certainly welcome,” Blinky said.

“Welcome,” Aaarrrgghh added and you smiled.

You turned to Jim and Toby. “I’ll be home soon. Watch each other’s back and stay safe.”

“Bye Y/n, go learn some magic stuff,” Jim said, giving you a quick hug.

“Bye.” You turned to follow Vendel into the next chapter of your life.

*****

Here is Chapter 2. I'm really excited to write this and see where it goes. I hope y'all like it and are doing well/staying safe! Chapter three should be out by either Friday or Saturday. :)

Chapter 3: https://writings-of-a-daphodil.tumblr.com/post/627127268120117248/fire-keeper-chapter-3

[tbhwhocaresanymore]

Nancy Drew S2 Premieres Today

Please find under the cut my various hopes and dreams for the characters

Bess

I have so many hopes for Bess going forward. My main two are ones you will have heard before.

One, I want Victoria to take Bess under her wing. I loved their interactions in ep 5 while George was possessed. George accepts spn stuff these days, and as such is more understanding of her mom’s struggles with alcoholism. But I think she will always have a certain degree of resentment towards Victoria for failing to be the mother George and her sisters needed. Bess on the other hand has none of that baggage, and so if Victoria is going to be passing down her teachings to anyone I think it would be Bess. I want to see them spending more time together, sort of like an internship, and maybe Bess can advocate to George about her mom, and help them become closer.

Two, I have a very specific storyline I want to unfold with Lisbeth. We know the Marvin family in addition to being super rich is super shady, and Granny Marvin wants Bess to spy on Lisbeth to help the family out. I know Bess is torn between her family and her girlfriend because she has wanted to be a part of the Marvin family for so long, but I don’t think she would actually betray Lisbeth like that. So I want to see a storyline where we as the audience think Bess is betraying Lisbeth, and spying on her and stuff like that, (similar to Ow*n and Nancy’s fake fight in ep 11) and then right as we expect consequences WHAM. It turns out Bess was really spying on her family the whole time for some super illegal murder-y thing that happened, and Granny Marvin or someone else gets arrested. She texts Lisbeth along the lines of “everything went great, see you in an hour!” Only when she gets there Lisbeth is DEAD. And then Amaya helps her through the grief and they bond and fall in love aaaaaaaaah

Three, I’m interested in her London family. They want nothing to do with her anymore, I’m assuming because she insisted on getting to know her mom’s side of the family, but is there more to the story? I would like to find out.

Four, I want her together with Amaya their chemistry is on FIRE sorry not sorry

George and Nick

Since they are dating I’m doing them at the same time, but I have hopes for them separately and together. Starting with George:

One, I want George to start manifesting psychic powers like her mom. I have said it before and I’ll say it again. We got a glimpse of the sorts of things Victoria deals with everyday in the seance episode (ep 7) but George will never truly understand what her mother goes through until she experiences it for herself. Yes she now deals with ghosts and hauntings on a regular basis, but George can turn it off. She can step away and make out with Nick, and manage the Claw, and parent her sisters. Victoria can’t turn it off, and yes that has led to some character/parental failings on Victoria’s part but I still want her and George to have a loving relationship. Imagine George starts seeing visions and spirits and things she can’t turn off or walk away from, and finally understands how and why her mom is overwhelmed. And then imagine Victoria becoming incensed and heartbroken, because her abilities have made a mess of her life and she in no way shape or form wants it for her daughter. She immediately teaches George all the control she can, how to shut it off or block them out, and together she and George find new (sober) ways of dealing.

Two, I want to meet the Fan dads. George has two sisters, Ted and Jessie, and the three of them all have different dads. I would be fine with meeting any of them. And it would make an interesting storyline if it turns out one of the dads had no idea he had a daughter? I’m not married to any particular storyline, but there’s a lot of potential there and I want to see what the writers do with it. Onto Nick:

One, as is the case with everyone else, I want to know more about his family. They are all just chilling in Florida, and to our knowledge have never tried to meet up with their son who is now out of prison for a while now which is odd. I know from the episode description in 2x2 that his mom is going to come up for a visit, and I cannot wait to see how it plays out. He mentioned being the black sheep of the family (ep 11 I think) and the writers can’t just drop a line like that and not delve into it, come on.

Two. I know this is super random but I want him to get some sort of stable living situation. He has like 5 million bucks worth of bearer bonds he can’t just sleep on George’s couch for the rest of the show. Plus Harbor Day is over which means the hotels and stuff have opened up. I want him to have a home, is that so wrong of me? A space he can make his own and fill with classical novels and have sex with Nancy?

It’s not as specific as my Bess wish but I know how I want George and Nick’s relationship to go.

I want them to fall apart slowly against their wishes. I mentioned this in one of my earlier reviews. There is so much potential for angst here you guys. I want them to try and stay together because they do like each other, and are attracted to each other, and care about each other, but it’s just not enough. I want Nick to have situations where he consistently goes to Nancy over George for her help and neither of them really understand why. I want George to be desperate to hold onto him because she’s never really been with a guy like Nick before where she doesn’t have to hide and she likes that feeling. But despite their best efforts, it’s just not enough and they both realize it’s just not meant to be, and sadly let each other go.

Also I want Bess and George to be cousins no I will never shut up about it

Ace

Honestly Ace as a character is perfection. The writers could do anything with him and I would support it. Go crazy guys.

Although if he ended up with George I wouldn’t be opposed...

Ryan Hudson

Just two wants, and I probably won’t get either of them, but here it is.

One, we never saw how Ryan and George got together, and I’m hoping they can find a way to make it slightly less blegh. Like maybe their first run in was as a waitress/customer at the Claw, and she knew he was married but made out with him anyway, and then he pursued her after finding out she was in high school because he was already attracted to her. I despise Aria x Ezra and didn’t watch past season 2 of PLL but maybe they could do it like that, where he didn’t actually know she was 17 at first.

Two, now that they have officially established the George/Ryan thing was fucked up and in no way George’s fault and that it messed her up big time, I want Ryan to make amends. I want him to apologize to George, and have him understand that yes he wronged her, and took advantage of her, and he shouldn’t have done it. They’ll never be on great terms, but considering he is Nancy’s father hopefully they can at least get to a place where they are civil with each other, and he is always willing to help her out when she needs it.

Nancy Drew

NANCY. My girl. My babe. My daughter. Lucy’s daughter. Whatever shall we do with you.

One, no surprise here, I want Nancy to get back on good terms with Carson. I heard in an interview, I don’t remember where nor do I have the link, that Carson is going to be practicing law again this season and Nancy is going to be doing some sleuthing for him in regards to some cases. Nancy is a rational human being, and I am confident given enough time she will understand that her father was really doing what he thought was best, and trying to do right by Lucy and fulfill her dying wishes, and she’ll be able to forgive him.

Two, I want her and Ryan to get to an amicable relationship. Nancy has so many (justified) negative feelings towards Ryan, what with his whole being a rich sleaze who had an affair with a 17yo, but really as the first season went on Ryan became more and more of a sympathetic character. Now I’m not delusional, I know he’s not going to morph into an ideal father figure overnight. But I want him to work to be a part of Nancy’s life, and I want Nancy to let him. I want her to understand that yes Ryan has fucked up a lot of times, but he is capable of growth and redemption. And slowly but surely, despite her best efforts, he weasels his slightly smarmy little way into her heart. If we’re getting specific maybe Nancy can be abducted (again) and Carson and Ryan have to team up to rescue her.

Three, Nancy forgive Kate. She’s dead and she loved you and she was your mother whether or not she gave birth to you. Come on, you can do it.

Four. *deep inhale* Listen. I understand I am firmly in the minority here in a fandom filled with Nancy/Ace shippers, but I want Nick and Nancy to happen. As George and Nick slowly fall apart, I want Nancy to resist being there for Nick, to tell him he should really be going to George with these problems, and maybe they have a moment where Nancy falls off a step and Nick catches her and they’re super close for a second before JUMPING apart and immediately avoid each other for a while. I want Nancy to have feelings and fight them because she and George are on good terms and she knows Nick is good for George, and doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that friendship or their relationship.

Five, apparently Nancy is getting a new love interest 2 days after Ow*n’s death and I may have hated him but she was fairly into him and as such I am not here for it. Go away new love interest. We don’t want you here.

Dead Lucy

I don’t care in what capacity she is present but listen I NEED my dead traumatized daughter in this show okay? Dead Lucy is my hands down favorite character and I love and support her and if she moves on or finds peace or whatever after sticking around for 20 years just because I will RIOT. But specific wants, just a couple.

One, I have a scene in my head. It is a very specific scene. Nancy is on the bluffs and she turns around, and Lucy is there. Not screaming, not haunting, just there. Nancy is afraid to move, afraid to blink, afraid to breathe. But slowly, she walks up to Lucy. Lucy is standing there, bedraggled and dead, staring at her daughter who grew up to be so beautiful. Nancy is right in front of her. Lucy slowly lifts a hand to touch her cheek and Nancy gasps a little because she can’t quite feel it, not really, but almost. She whispers ‘hi mom’ and closes her eyes, there’s a wind, and Lucy is gone.

Two, I want a Lucy vs Aglaeca showdown. I have no idea what they have planned for the Aglaeca origin story, and it’s fairly likely she will have been victimized by the Marvin family somehow, but right now she is going after Nancy and Lucy is not going to stand for it. Aglaeca shows up to try and take their souls and then Lucy goes all Molly Weasley on her ass and does that deathly scream thing and TACKLES the Aglaeca, and then screams her off just like “NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH.” and buys the Drew Crew time to do whatever Aglaeca banishing ritual they need to do. That would be nifty.

That’s it

Wow this post turned out to be a lot longer than I expected but there you have it. Hit me up in the notes or in my asks, lmk what you guys want to see for season 2. Oh but please bare in mind, I do live in CA and so see this show three hours after anyone living on the East Coast, and will be actively avoiding spoilers.

Can’t wait until tonight when 2x1, The Search for the Midnight Wraith airs. Stay tuned for my review xo

[itzagothamcitysiren]

There’s Only Us Left Now

I wanted to post this over the weekend but we kept having issues with our internet and whenever I had the time to post I had no connection of course :( but here’s chapter two! 

I Had a Dream I Was a Vigilante’s Side Kick pt. 2

           The look on Halley’s face was almost unreadable as she stared down at the boy’s outreached hand. She looked at it before looking back up to him. She was silent and didn’t make any indication of shaking it like he hoped her too. Instead she reached back to unzip her backpack and placing the folder she thought she would have need of inside. She let the bag drop onto one of the two chairs placed in front of the desk before taking a seat in the other.

           Crossing her arms against her chest, Halley eyed the February snowfall off to the side and outside the window. She turned her attention back to this Tim Drake with an expectant look.  The boy’s eyes widened slowly retracting his hand awkwardly. He sat up straight, almost fumbling in his chair as if to make himself appear taller.

           “Right, um-,” He cleared his throat. “Like I said, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been-,”

           “Stalking me?” Halley cocked an eyebrow up, cutting him off. She sank back into her chair and let the venom drip out of her mouth. “Yeah, I noticed.”

           “Only recently,” he mumbled to himself. He’d been tailing her for weeks, waiting for the right moment to finally reveal himself. He caught Halley’s glare at his words and looked at her nervously. It was as if she’d pounce on him at any moment. He cleared his throat again, giving her a defensive smile and placing his hands on the desk, “I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before. Let me start over,”

           “Let me stop you right there Tim Drake.” She waved her hand to break his stumbling. “I can see that you’ve never done this before,” she agreed with him. “I’ve got some questions of my own so I’ll go first and show you how it’s done.” She let her hands grip the armrests, squeezing them to try and keep her mind straight. “Who do you work for? Why are you following me? And tell me about that notebook you had back at the café?”

           “You saw it?” Tim gasped but pulled a straight face on when she shifted. “Right, back to business,” he nodded trying to sound serious. “Well in that order,” he started casually as if he was answering the simplest questions in the world. “I work for myself. I’m following you because 1.) You were the easiest to get too and 2.) You also seemed to be the most approachable but I’m starting to rethink that with the way you’re looking at me-,” Tim trailed off, catching himself as her glare only grew as he rambled off again. He coughed into his fist and sat back again. “And that’s my research notebook. You see I-erm, I know about you and the others.”

           “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” She didn’t know why she was going to try to deny it. She knew he knew. Why else would he go through all this trouble to bring her here? She for sure knew what she saw in that notebook.

           “I won’t say it out loud. I get it; secret identities and all.” Tim promised leaning in and hushing his voice as he spoke.

           “What do you want?” She rolled her eyes begrudgingly; the kid was smarter than she thought apparently. “Money? Revenge?”

           “Oh god no. That would be so obvious.” Tim chuckled, haven’t thinking about how his actions could be interpreted that way. “I want neither of those things.” He held up his hands and gave them a shake. He placed them back on the desk, folding them together. “No, I just want in.”

           “I’m sorry?” Halley squinted at him, “You want what?” Giving her head a shake, she looked as if she didn’t hear him properly.

           “I want in. You know? Like in the family business.” He said leaning in further. He hushed his voice even more as he clarified. “I wanna be like how you were; like Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. I want to be a Robin.”

           Halley let her mouth drop open and stared at the kid speechlessly. She felt her heart pump up and out of her chest and throat. The back of her neck started to sweat and the hairs on it raised. She looked around the room feeling the walls close in as she wished he’d gone to Dick or even Bruce with this. She probed at her ear as if to clear it out.

           “You want to be what?” she asked softly, knowing damn well what he had said but couldn’t stomach it.

           “Robin.” A wide smile appeared on his face as he repeated what Halley really didn’t need to hear again. “Robin; I want to be Robin and I want to work with Batman.”

           It took Halley a couple of moments until she found herself able to respond with words but even then it was just none coherent curses with a couple of questions thrown in. Who the hell was this kid? And who was he to think that he could just follow her around for days and then trick her into this. Who was he to think he could just request to be a Robin? Robin wasn’t something you could just ask for. No, it was something that was fuckin’ earned.

           “Look kid,” she started, standing up from her chair. She towered over him making him shrink back into the chair. “I don’t know what you’re on about but no. You can’t be Robin.” She cut her hand through the hair to get her point across further. “I’m not even the one to make that decision. But I know the guy who is and I know that he would also say no.” She looked down at him baffled. She bit her lip before looking off to the side and continuing. “I don’t know how you found out about us but believe me it’s a waste of information. Take it from me when I tell you it’s not worth it to be a Robin.”

           “Batman needs a Robin!” Tim stood up, raising his voice slightly. He slammed his hands onto the table causing Halley to look up at him. “And he needs you.”

           “No he doesn’t.” She shook her head firmly. She took a step forward, daring him to speak again. She get her voice steady and strict, not raising it like he had, “Batman shouldn’t have a Robin.”  

            “Robin keeps him balanced and grounded,” Tim did dare. “Even the people who are grateful for Batman noticed how he’s more violent and reckless now; for the last two years. Ever since Nightshade and Robin disappeared.” He bit his tongue when Halley looked up at him dangerously for mentioning her and Jason’s former names.

           “Jason Todd didn’t die in a skiing accident did he?” Tim pressed, knowing he was already walking on a very thin line but decided not to back down. “It was something Robin related wasn’t it? That’s why you stopped being Nightshade and why Batman is the way he is now?”

           “Enough,” Halley slammed her own fists down onto the desk like he had but much, much, harder.

           The objects on the desk shook and unsettled the boy. Halley raised a hand to grip the bridge of her and let out a shaky breath. She tried to calm herself having not wanting to elevate the situation any higher. She looked up at him. The notebook she saw days ago caught her eye. He left it placed in front of him. Without hesitation and in a blink of an eye she snatched it up as he let out a cry of protest. She held it tightly in her grasp and out of his.

           “You’re going to drop this,” she pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’re never going to seek any of us out again, you hear me? Trust me kid, you have no idea what you’re talking about and need to just drop it.” She said before reaching for her bag.

           She began to head towards the door but stopped with a sigh. Her hand was about to touch the doorknob before she turned around to face him again. She frowned, seeing how his face showed an array of emotions. He looked genuinely defeated. She let her shoulders drop but kept her firm demeanor while at the same time showing some compassion.  

           “You’re right; Jason didn’t die in a skiing accident.” She swallowed hard. “He died because of the Joker. The Joker kidnapped him. He tortured him, made him suffer, and then he killed him.” She said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice but struggled. “That’s what happens when you’re Robin. You’re just a pawn to use against Batman.” She frowned bitterly. “So when I say Batman shouldn’t have a Robin I mean it. Batman should not have a Robin.”

           Halley’s body was in autopilot. She didn’t wait or give a chance for Tim to respond, ending the conversation right then and there. Her feet pulled her out of the room and out of the wing of the building only stopping when she reached the outside of the building. Her movement picked up again after a minute of collecting herself and steadying her ragged breathes.   She aimlessly walked through campus, shaken by the conversation and replaying it over and over in her head. How could such a naïve kid figure out about Bruce Wayne being Batman?

           She thought about it until she found herself in a park that was near the college. She sat down at one of the benches, feeling more than mentally exhausted. She felt a spark of energy when she realized she still held onto the notebook in her hand. Her body was starting to not feel so numb but still felt heavy as she cautiously opened it. She scanned through the sloppy penmanship until she came across the page she caught a glimpse of back at the café. She used it to backtrack through the kid’s train of thoughts until she found out what outed them.

           “Dammit, Dick.” She swore as she let the notebook close.

            Of course the kid had to have seen the Flying Grayson’s years ago. Of course he seen Dick perform the Quadruple Somersault way back when. Of course Dick fuckin’ Grayson was one of the only people in the world able to do the move. And of course Dick fuckin’ Grayson was dumb enough to still perform the move today but as Nightwing.

           Halley brought her thumb to her lips gently gnawing at it in thought. It really wasn’t that hard to put together if she really thought about it. She was honestly surprised that Bruce was able to hide this secret for as long as he did. Once Tim figured out that Dick Grayson was Nightwing it made sense to look to Bruce Wayne who was really the only one rich enough in Gotham to be the masked crusader. Bruce Wayne also happened to have two children, a boy and a girl, who also happened to be around the same age and build of Batman’s Nightshade and Robin. It was quite obvious if you looked past Bruce’s well-acted playboy-billionaire persona.

           “Ugh,” she groaned, letting her head fall back in frustration.  

           She knew she should tell him about this or at least give the information to Alfred. What if this kid didn’t listen to her? What if he somehow got to Bruce? And what if Bruce was foolish enough to actually take him on. She groaned again, knowing that she would have to look into this Tim Drake. She had to figure out why he would want to risk being Robin.

           She stood up from the park bench and instead of heading back to campus headed in towards the city. She remembered the way to her destination like she’d been there yesterday even though it’s been years since she’d actually step foot anywhere near the place. She knew she still had access knowing that even with her hanging up the cape and tights Dick would never restrict her access from his safe house in Gotham.

           She quickly entered the code to get in. Once she was in it lit up showing off the display of extra Nightwing gear and tech. She smiled fondly at them but only for a moment. She had to get to work knowing that Dick would be alerted that she used her code to get in and would probably be calling her within the hour. Cracking her knuckles she started the computer and started her search on Tim Drake.

[soundtrackofversace]

Episodes 5 & 6 Summary

Okay so we’re going to try and cover a lot in a little, because a lot of good music examples span a few episodes, not to mention that this is the juicy part (we really start to see the foundations of a lot of relationships and personality traits). Last we left off, Andrew was butting his head in where it didn’t belong in David’s personal life, trying to marry him in a last ditch effort to ‘fix’ his life and inflating his role in their relationship. Because the show operates retroactively, I think it’s worth reminding exactly who Andrew has killed at this point, especially because I’m about to talk about them when they were alive. In chronological order, we’ve got Jeff Trail, David Madsen, Lee Miglin, William Reese, and Gianni Versace (the entirety of his victims), so now we’re getting into the time in Andrew’s life prior to becoming a killer.

In the rest of Episode 5, we get to learn more about Jeff Trail and understand the nature of he and Andrew’s relationship. Not only that, but we also get our first glimpse of Versace in a while, albeit still only included as a framing device for Cunanan’s storyline (or more accurately here Jeff’s storyline). Both Versace and Jeff are dealing with life as a queer man in the 90’s, but they each have very different experiences. Due to his fame and fortune, Versace must contemplate coming out to the public from a business standpoint, with Donatella concerned it will affect the business and Gianni not having a care in the world about it; he’s certain that those who deserve his business would remain loyal. While he has to consider the business, for the most part his wealth and influence allows him to go relatively unscathed; he’s able to give an interview for a queer magazine offically coming out without any real concern for his close relationships or personal safety. 

Jeff, on the other hand, is a retired Naval officer who is very much in the closet; only his sister and close friends know anything about his sexuality. Instead of a reaffirming interview celebrating his sexuality, Jeff gives a 48 Hours interview about life in the military during Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, a super bigoted and ignorant tactic that the government used in the 80s and 90s to ‘allow’ gays in the military, they just couldn’t talk about it. This obviously meant that being gay was looked down upon, leading to a really crappy life for queers in the military. Jeff gave his interview anonymously, only making the shame he was supposed to feel more painfully obvious. In the interview Jeff discusses his reasons for leaving the military; at one point during his service he witnessed a group of officers beating up a presumably gay man and intervened, which called his sexuality into question (which just baffles me like...because I don’t think you should actually beat another person, I’m gay? ok buddy). From there, Trail himself was bullied and pressured out of the military, fearing for his own safety. As someone who had idolized the military from a young age, Jeff was torn; while he knows it was the right choice to intervene in that fight (that one gay guy would have definitely died), there’s also some serious regret about saving him, because it clearly outed him and prevented him from having a future in the military. There’s an encounter between Trail and his superiors where they seem to be trying to get him to out himself under the guise of sensitivity training (what a fucking joke, I truly scream-laughed when I watched that), which seems to be the final straw for Trail to officially feel unsafe. 

Also in Episode 5, we see the inception of Jeff and Andrew’s relationship: while patronizing a gay bar for the first time, Jeff meets Andrew and is pretty immediately intoxicated by his worldliness and mysteriousness that Jeff has equated to queer culture. There’s a manic pixie dream girl vibe to Andrew, and now it’s clearer how it could have taken so long for Andrew’s friends to catch on to his bullshit. If Andrew had actually taken the time to achieve any of the goals he claimed to have already achieved, he just might have stopped lying long enough for people to actually like him, but obviously we’ll never know for sure. 

Episode 6 helps to indicate how Andrew was able to transition from life at home with his middle class family that embodies the ordinary life Andrew thought he was too good for. We see the way that Andrew has managed to seem as rich and successful as he has is because he acts as a gigolo to Norman Blachford, a wealthy older man that Andrew lives with and gets large sums of money from in exchange for intimacy. Well, Andrew is determined to get his money and yet still get the guy, so at his birthday party he has to juggle satiating Norman and that relationship while also trying to woo David. Throughout the party Andrew also does anything and everything to make himself seem important and rich, including giving Jeff a new gift that is more expensive than the one he actually brought and making him change his shoes into designer shoes Andrew bought for him to wear. It’s clear that this is the beginning of the end of their friendship, as Jeff clearly thinks Andrew is on some shit for that behavior. This episode is truly the only stretch in Andrew’s life (besides his teenage years when his father did it for him) where his life seems to be going exactly how he wants it to; very little responsibility, loads of discretionary spending, pretentious and boujee company and activities and an absolutely crazy and grandiose mansion to live in rent free. He appears to others the way he has always thought he should, and without a stitch of genuine effort or determination on his part (except determination to manipulate maybe).