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flightfoot · 4 years

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Perspective From Another Timeline

Thanks to my betas @steelblaidd and Izzybusy!

I ADORE @buggachat new Bakery Enemies AU. This idea just kept on swirling through my head, I had to write it! This is set between parts 13 and 14, so after Adrien meets Alya and Nino but before Marinette starts sympathizing with him. AO3

---------

“You okay?”

Alya shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve weathered worse than that - we both have.”

Nino grinned at her. “True that.”

Alya smiled at him fondly, remembering Heroes Day. It was a bittersweet memory, with her having been turned against Nino and them both being akumatized.

But they had fought to protect each other as best they could. She’d seen Prime Queen’s footage, how Carapace had struggled to get her to fight against Dark Cupid’s magic, how he’d only given into despair after she’d given into akumatization.

“What did that blast do to us?” Nino wondered. “Everyone else the akuma blasted just disappeared. Why’re we still here?”

Alya’s brow furrowed. “I dunno… hold on, let me check to see whether any new info on the akuma’s been uploaded.”

Pulling out her phone, she tapped on the Akuma News Alert app.

An error message popped up, telling her that she had no internet connection.

Puzzled, Alya checked her phone’s other settings.

No wifi - no wifi even recognized, much less connectable - no cell service, no connection to the outside world at all.

She glanced over at Nino. “Hey, you got any signal?”

Taking out his own phone, he quickly checked his connection. He shook his head. “Not a single bar.”

Frowning, Alya looked around. “Maybe all the cell towers were taken out?”

Everything looked intact though, no sign of any destruction at all.

Something else caught Alya’s eye. “Hey Nino, what time should it be?”

Nino blinked. “Well I mean lunch just started so it should be a little past noon-”

He glanced around, noticing the long shadows and the pinkish-orange of the evening sky.

“-which it clearly is not anymore,” he concluded.

Great. “Guess Ladybug and Chat Noir must’ve taken a while to defeat the akuma,” she said, putting her phone away. “Hopefully my parents aren’t too worried. They like me to text them just after an akuma attack, but right now…?” she gestured to her pocket.

“My folks aren’t as worried,” Nino said. “But they still expect me back home before the sun goes down. They’ll be getting nervous soon.”

Alya let out a small sigh. “So much for playing Super Penguino together.”

“Hmmm…” Nino’s eyes gleamed. “You know… it’s not night just yet. And I’m sure my parents would understand if I was a few minutes late because I grabbed a bite to eat.”

Grabbed a bite to eat? What was Nino hinting at…?

Alya looked around at their location more closely.

Wait… that blast seemed to have carried them to that one park, the one near-

Alya grinned. “I think my parents will forgive me for not calling in if I bring them fresh-baked treats from the best bakery in Paris.”

---

*ring ring*

The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the store.

Instantly Alya felt her shoulders loosen up, releasing tension she didn’t even know she’d had. There was just something so warm and comforting about the bakery.

Of course, a lot of that was due to the people running it. Good luck finding more friendly, caring people than Marinette’s parents. Sabine often checked up on anyone who seemed to be struggling or upset (and ready to protect them if they were - Alya had seen the video of the time a TV crew decided to invade Marinette’s privacy), and Tom was basically a giant teddy bear in human form.

But neither of them were manning the counter today.

Instead a young woman stared back at them.

A very familiar-looking young woman.

“Marinette?” Alya asked cautiously.

The woman stared at her for a minute. “Alya?” she finally asked. “What happened to you?” She paled. “Did a new supervillain attack? Is that why you and Nino are younger?”

Huh. Weirdly scared reaction from Marinette. They’d all gotten used to supervillains by now. She’d expect an older Marinette to take them in stride even more than the current Marinette.

Hm… an older Marinette, a different time of day, and Marinette not seeming to know about the latest akuma attack?

“Marinette… what year is it?”

Marinette blinked for a moment. Her eyes widened.

Seemed Marinette understood what she was getting at.

She told Alya the date.

Her hunch was right. “We’re in the future,” Alya breathed.

A wicked grin slowly spread over her face.

Five years was a long time. A lot of things could have happened. A lot of information could’ve come to light.

Like Hawkmoth’s identity.

Or more information on the Miraculous.

But most importantly right now-

She leaned in close to Marinette, making sure to keep her voice down, just in case someone else was around in the back. “So did you ever get together with a certain blond-haired, green-eyed model?”

“Uh… what?” Marinette asked, looking puzzled.

Alya snapped her fingers. “Adrien. Did you and Adrien finally get together? Ooooh, if you did you’ve GOTTA tell me how the confession went! Or, no, wait, don’t tell me, I want to get the deets at the time. Just let me know how long I’ve got to wait, girl!”

Marinette just stared at her, slack-jawed. “Adrien… like ADRIEN AGRESTE?!” she said, her volume rising with every word.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up. “Um… yes…?”

She’d thought that Marinette would be glowing about finally getting together with her crush, or dejected about still not being able to spit out what she wanted to say to him, downcast over him rejecting her, or maybe even infuriated because he mistreated her and they subsequently broke up.

(The last one was VERY unlikely though. After the Felix debacle, she’d learned to have a bit more faith in Adrien’s good nature.)

Shock at the concept of dating him? Not something she’d anticipated.

Footsteps echoed from behind Marinette.

So one of Marinette’s parents must’ve been in the back-

Adrien popped his head around the corner.

Seemed both he AND Marinette had aged well.

Not that Adrien looked all that different. Taller, definitely, maybe with slightly messier hair and… were those earrings? They looked good on him.

“Hey dude!” Nino waved at his best friend. “What’s up?”

“Uh…” Adrien said, scratching the back of his neck.

“WOW those outfits really take the years off, huh?” Marinette said loudly, shoving them out the door. “Make you look smaller than usual. Well we better go talk about plans later okaybye-”

She promptly slammed the door behind them, physically pushing them away from the bakery.

After Marinette had dragged them a good distance away, Alya finally got over her shock, turning around and glaring at her. “What was that about?!” she asked Marinette indignantly, hands on her hips. “You know me, I wasn’t going to spill anything to him. That’s why I was talking so quietly! Why’d you have to do that?!”

Nino frowned, seeming more concerned than annoyed. “Adrien looked really hurt by that. Not cool.”

“There’s nothing to spill!” Marinette protested, gesticulating wildly. “I only met him for the first time two days ago!”

*record scratch*

Two-

Two DAYS ago?!

Ok, hold up.

“Adrien joined our collège class the day after I did! He sits in front of you in class! What’re you TALKING about?!”

“Uh… no…?” Marinette tilted her head to the side, befuddled. “I think I would remember that, even if it was a few years back.”

Alya let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, no kidding. He would be uh, difficult for you to forget. Heck, even if your memory was erased, you’ve got so much stuff revolving around him, I couldn’t see that lasting long.”

Marinette blushed. “Why do you think I have a crush on him?! He’s HAWKMOTH’S SON!”

“WHAT?!” Alya and Nino yelled in unison.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Hawkmoth a couple years ago,” Marinette explained, pulling out her phone.

A moment later she held it up, showing a blog post from the Ladyblog.

Oooh, that’s a nice graphical design. I’ll have to look into updating my site, Alya thought.

Turning her attention to the picture, she squinted. “Hey, can you enlarge the photo?” She asked.

Marinette complied, enlarging it and turning her phone sideways, letting it fill the entire screen.

Gabriel Agreste being led away in handcuffs by the police, with Ladybug and Chat Noir in the background. Ladybug looked satisfied, with maybe a twinge of melancholy, but Chat Noir…

He stared vacantly ahead, seemingly not focused on anyone or anything, a smile on his face - but the most forced one she’d ever seen.

“What’s wrong with Chat Noir?”

Marinette frowned, looking troubled. “I don’t know. He seemed really, really upset when Hawkmoth was defeated. It was a tough battle, bad enough that neither of them have returned since, but that doesn’t explain why-”

She trailed off, lost in thought.

A moment later she looked up, meeting Alya’s eyes.

Immediately she waved her hands around, trying to ward off… something. “I- I mean, that’s what I read on the Ladyblog and what I could piece together from video footage, it’s not like I was there, NOPE. I was huddled in my room the entire time. Not like I have any insight into what Chat Noir was acting like during the battle, not beyond what any other civilian would know! That would be ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!” she let out a few forced guffaws.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up.

O...Kay…?

Maybe Marinette had been following Ladybug and Chat Noir during the final battle and hadn’t wanted anyone to know? She’d wondered whether Marinette might have a thing for Chat Noir, but her crush on Adrien dwarfed any feelings she might have had for him. Plus it’s not like Marinette would actually know Chat Noir, unlike Adrien.

Thinking about Adrien…

“He must’ve been devastated,” she murmured. Marinette looked at her questioningly. “Adrien, I mean,” Alya clarified. “Having your father turn out to be a terrorist? I can’t even imagine.”

Marinette buried her face in her hands. “Not you TOO,” she said, her voice muffled.

Nino slowly started edging his way behind Marinette.

“What’s your problem with Adrien?” Alya asked. “Did he do something?”

Marinette glanced away. “Not… exactly… I just… I’m afraid that it might all be an act. That he might’ve been helping Hawkmoth secretly, and… and even if he wasn’t before, that he might just be biding his time, waiting until he figures out who Ladybug and Chat Noir and then BAM!” she slammed her fist down on her other hand. “He takes them out, steals all the Miraculous, frees his father and rules Paris FOREVER!”

Alya reached out towards Marinette tentatively. She collapsed into Alya’s arms.

Hugging her tightly, she sang a soft nonsense song, rubbing small circles in Marinette’s back.

She’d done this a few other times since she’d met Marinette, though she’d never thought she’d do it underneath these circumstances.

Whatever these circumstances actually were.

Did everyone have amnesia or…?

“Do you have any big memory gaps?” Alya asked once Marinette’s breathing had calmed down. “Especially from five years ago?”

Marinette shook her head.

She’d shelve that theory for now then. More likely it was…

“An alternate timeline, huh?” Alya said.

Marinette looked up at her questioningly.

“That’s what I think this is,” Alya explained. “I WAS thinking that maybe there’d been some sort of mass amnesia, but if you don’t have any memory gaps - and trust me girl, with how involved you were with Adrien, there WOULD be memory gaps - that seems unlikely. I’m betting this is some sort of alternate universe, one where Adrien never got to go to school.”

“I still don’t get why you think there’s something between me and Adrien!” Marinette said. “I mean sure, he’s pretty, but did I really fall for him just for that?”

Alya shook her head. “Actually, you hated him at first. Chloe’d been bragging about how he was her friend, and with that on top of you catching him trying to remove the gum Chloe’d planted on your seat and mistaking it for him PLANTING the gum… well… both of us just assumed he was a spoiled rich bully, just like Chloe. Luckily that turned out not to be the case.”

“How’d that misunderstanding get cleared up?” Marinette asked. “And how did your Marinette jump from that to crushing on him?”

Alya grinned. Marinette had ranted about this moment to her SO. MANY. TIMES.

“School let out later that day. It was raining and Marinette had forgotten her umbrella, so she hung back a moment, long enough for Adrien to approach her. At first she looked away from him, not wanting to acknowledge his greeting. But then he told you - told her I mean - that he hadn’t done it, promised that he’d just been trying to take it off with such sincerity that she had no choice but to believe it. He opened up to her, even though she’d been shunning him just moments ago. And finally he gave her his umbrella, just because he could. Because it was the kind thing to do. She’s been a goner ever since.”

The Marinette in her arms looked away. “I can see why she might have developed a crush on him. But I still dunno whether I trust him.”

“I don’t know whether I have anything that could convince you on that,” Alya admitted, “especially since this is probably a different timeline, and for all I know he could be evil here. Just make sure that you’re judging him on his own merits, okay? Not who he’s associated with. Not his fault he has so many crappy people in his life.”

“I’ll… take it under consideration,” Marinette said reluctantly.

Marinette looked from side to side. “Where’d Nino go?”

“Oh, he snuck back into the bakery several minutes ago.”

“WHAT?!”

---

Nino opened the door to the bakery, letting out a small sigh of relief. He really wanted to check in on his best friend, and judging by Marinette’s behavior, she wasn’t exactly keen on him or Alya chatting with Adrien.

Thinking back on what he’d just heard, he frowned.

He wished he could say that he’d never have suspected that Gabriel was Hawkmoth.

That he didn’t think Adrien’s old man could ever be capable of such evil.

But he knew better.

The guy threatened to withdraw Adrien from school and isolate him from everyone else at the drop of a hat, paid little attention to his son when he was at home, and was a very negative influence on his life in general. He might have been grieving, but… so was Adrien. He needed the only parent he had left.

And instead Gabriel had chosen to respond by becoming a supervillain and terrorizing Paris, endangering his own son in the process.

He really wished he’d gotten to hit Hawkmoth with his turtle shield more. At least he got to relish the smack he got in.

“You’re back!”

Nino looked towards the voice.

Adrien walked closer to him, a tentative grin on his face. “I didn’t think you’d return so soon!”

“I had to come back to talk to my best friend,” Nino said.

“Best friend?” Adrien asked, blank-faced.

Oh, right. According to Marinette, Adrien hadn’t joined their class. She hadn’t even met Adrien until recently.

Had some sort of memory-wiping akuma attacked? Wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Do you know who I am?” Nino asked, pointing at himself.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… well I know you’re friends with the Ladyblogger and Marinette, and… sorry, that’s it.”

He looked really apologetic, like a dog who’d ripped up a bunch of toilet paper and acted guilty about it once caught.

Hm. If it had been a memory-erasing akuma, maybe he could jog Adrien’s memory…?

And even if it wasn’t, he wanted to let Adrien know that someplace, somewhere, people cared about him. If Marinette’s reaction to him was any indication, he’d need that reassurance. Being looked at with suspicion, having people run from you just because of who your dad was, thinking that you might’ve been involved in his crimes… he couldn’t imagine.

“You joined our class the day after Hawkmoth first attacked,” Nino told him, pulling out his phone.

Adrien shook his head, looking confused. “Uh… no? I wanted to, I REALLY wanted to go to school, but Father-”

He cut himself off, looking away.

“Marinette said the same thing,” Nino told him. “That you hadn’t enrolled in our class, that she’d only met you recently. I don't know what that’s about, whether everyone’s memories were wiped, or an akuma messed with the past, or what.”

Come on, come on, where was it- ah!

He clicked on a photo, one taken a few months ago, holding his phone up so his friend could get a better look.

Adrien squinted for a moment. His eyes widened. “That’s-!”

Nino nodded. “Our class photo. The official one, anyway.” He chuckled. “I liked our unofficial ones better.” Swiping to the side, he showed the new ones the class had taken at the park.

Adrien’s jaw dropped more with every new photo. He let out an involuntary bark of laughter at the one of himself, Nino, Kim, and Juleka posing. “I- I always wanted to mess around like that at photoshoots,” Adrien said. His voice trembled slightly. “But I wouldn’t be able to get away with it. And that’s mostly fun when you can share it with friends, at least share the picture, and I- I couldn’t. Chloe wouldn’t have appreciated it, and L-”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Luka?” Nino asked.

He didn’t know why Adrien would know Luka and not anybody else, but he seemed the most likely option.

“Uh…” Adrien scratched the back of his neck, looking away.

Hm, he’d have to see if he had- ah!

“You played in Kitty Section too, with Luka, Rose, Ivan, and Juleka.” Nino explained, clicking on the video.

Adrien’s hands shook as Nino handed him the phone, watching the mini-concert.

“I- I was allowed to- I got to-” Adrien’s voice quavered.

“Not at first.” Nino grimaced, remembering how bummed Adrien had sounded when he called him. “Your old man said that Agrestes were soloists, and that we were all bad influences.”

“HE was the bad influence,” Adrien said. A current of anger, of venom ran through his voice that Nino had never heard before.

“Well I already knew that, even before finding out he was Hawkmoth,” Nino said, making a face. “Dude needed to chill out.”

Adrien snorted. “If he had any ‘chill’ he wouldn’t have decided that becoming a supervillain was the best way to heal my mother.”

Oh.

So THAT was why Gabriel had done it.

He’d just thought it was standard ‘I’m an asshole and want to rule the world while being a jackass to everyone in my life’ behavior.

(He still wasn’t going to rule out that being a factor.)

Nino put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder sympathetically. “At least he’s gone now and you’re free, right?”

“Right,” Adrien said. He didn’t meet Nino’s eyes.

“Not you TOO,” Marinette had said, burying her face in her hands.

As if she found it exasperating that Alya sympathized with Adrien. As if she had expected differently.

Those worries she’d voiced as Nino had been tiptoeing away, about Adrien helping Hawkmoth, about him lying in wait, biding his time… Marinette probably wasn’t the only one to have that concern. And with Adrien’s face being as well-known as it was...

“You AREN’T free, are you?” Nino asked, eyes wide.

Adrien sighed. “I was as surprised as everyone else when I found out who Hawkmoth was. That someone who’s caused that much harm, that much trauma to this city, lived in my own house.” He clenched his fists, digging into his jean’s fabric. “I could barely believe it… no… I didn’t WANT to believe it.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I- I only remember snippets from right after his arrest. The police chief talking to me. Riding back to the station. It’s all a blur. Everything felt like I was processing it underwater. It was all so blurry and muffled. Even- even then, though, I could feel everyone’s accusing stares.” “I understand why, don’t get me wrong,” he cut in hurriedly. “Who wouldn’t be suspicious of the son of the terrorist who’s been making everyone’s life miserable for the past four years?” Adrien almost panted with exertion, his eyes wild. “And- and it was happening in my own house! Underneath my nose! I should have KNOWN! I could’ve stopped this!”

Reaching out, Nino pulled his friend into a hug.

Adrien stiffened for a moment, before melting into his embrace.

“It’s his fault, not yours,” Nino murmured. “Remember that, dude. He was the adult. He was your parent. Your ONLY remaining parent. I’ve met the guy. And I’ve heard you talk about what he’s like. If you had investigated more?” Nino shuddered, thinking about the disproportionate punishments the bastard had enacted. “And knowing he was HAWKMOTH on top of that? I’m kinda glad you didn’t. Yeah, maybe you could’ve ended things sooner. Or maybe he would’ve hurt you more before you had the chance. I’m just glad you survived.”

“I-” Adrien’s throat sounded tight. “I’m- I’m glad I survived too.”

They stood there for a moment, Nino feeling Adrien’s breath go in-and-out, his heartbeat racing, until it gradually started to slow.

*ring ring*

Adrien and Nino broke up their hug just as Marinette burst through the door, Alya on her heels. She skidded to a halt in front of Adrien - but not quite in time, sending her careening towards the floor.

She never made contact.

“Woah!” Adrien shouted, catching her in his arms.

Nino detected a hint of pink to Marinette’s cheeks before she abruptly sprang to her feet.

“So, uh,” Marinette said awkwardly. “I’m guessing Nino talked to you about some stuff. I mean, of course he talked to you about stuff, because that’s what talking is about. What- what I mean is, what were you two talking about?”

“I wanted to show him how much we care about him,” Nino told her. “Especially since with this… amnesia?”

“I think it’s an alternate timeline,” Alya said.

“Especially since in this timeline,” Nino continued, “it really doesn’t seem like he had anyone.”

“I had a couple other friends,” Adrien told him quietly, giving a melancholic smile. “But I lost contact with them right after Hawkmoth’s defeat.”

Noticing Nino’s frown, he hastily added, “they didn’t abandon me or anything! They were online friends. One moved somewhere without internet reception, and the other... we never knew each other’s names. But we talked all the time. We chatted, laughed, defeated villains together…”

“In the video games we played, of course!” he added after a moment. He chuckled fondly. “We played as a team. Together, we were unstoppable, no matter what our opponent threw at us.”

Adrien swallowed. “But in the aftermath of Hawkmoth’s defeat, with all the turmoil, with everything that happened… I lost my means of contacting her. I- I don’t know whether I’ll ever get to see her again.”

“We’d promised to meet up after Hawkmoth’s defeat,” Adrien said. His voice cracked. “That- that once it was safer in Paris, we’d finally tell our names.”

His eyes dropped to the ground. “Instead, we lost each other. Maybe for good.”

“I know what that’s like,” Marinette said. She sounded strangely distant. “I had a friend like that too. I cared about him. A lot. Maybe… maybe even as more than a friend.” She said the last part haltingly, as if she’d only just admitted it to herself. “He- he wanted to know who I was. For me to know who he was. But- but I couldn’t do that. Not in Hawkmoth’s Paris. I already cared for him so much it ached. If I was closer to him than that- if I’d accepted his rose- I’m- I’m afraid Hawkmoth might’ve used the strength of those feelings against me. That I could’ve gotten akumatized, or he might’ve, and if we knew who each other was, knew WHERE the other one was… I just… I couldn’t accept that we might be sent to hurt each other.”

“We talked while the final battle was raging,” she continued. “He seemed really upset, more angry than I’ve ever seen him before, but… also kind of sad. I wanted to know what was wrong, but there wasn’t really time to press him. And after that battle he just… disappeared. I knew there was going to be some sort of disruption, but- but I’d thought we’d have more time to talk beforehand, that we’d be able to exchange new contact information. We were cut off before we had the chance.”

“I- I think of him every day,” she said quietly. “Wondering how he’s doing. He was always so positive, no matter what life threw at us. I hope that wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he hasn’t lost that positivity, that optimism, the ability to see the best in the world and in others.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to know you cared for him so much,” Adrien said, giving her a warm smile.

Marinette blinked, giving herself a small shake. She turned to Alya. “I dunno whether you’ll remember any of this after the Ladybug in your time restores anything, but on the off-chance you do, is there anything you need to know?”

“Oh!” Alya pulled up some footage. “You told me who Hawkmoth was, but what about Mayura?”

“Mayura?”

“Who?”

Alya snapped her fingers. “You know, the Peacock Miraculous wielder, the one summoning the sentimonsters! Did she not exist in this universe?”

She pulled up part of the fight against Mayura, the sentimonster Ladybug, and Hawkmoth.

The video ended, she took another glance at Marinette and Adrien.

Marinette seemed to be in shock, staring straight ahead.

Adrien frowned, thinking. “I’d wondered for a long time how Father managed to hide his supervillain activities from Nathalie, considering she was around him most of the time. I thought maybe she was just really good at never asking questions.”

He grimaced. “Looking at that? I’m betting she didn’t ask questions because she already knew the answers.”

“You think Mayura’s Nathalie?” Alya questioned.

He nodded. “Unless something’s different in your universe. My father doesn’t have a lot of associates, and the way he acted around Mayura there, how he was willing to pass up a chance to fight Ladybug for her Miraculous in exchange for catching her… the only people I can think of who he’d do that for are my mother and Nathalie, and mom…” he trailed off.

“I- I didn’t even think about that,” Marinette said guiltily. “I remember reading something about Gabriel having a secretary, but I didn’t think about her much beyond that.”

“Maybe you could ask this universe’s Alya to post something on the Ladyblog, telling Ladybug and Chat Noir she has a lead on who Mayura is?” Alya said. “I mean, I know they haven’t shown up in ages, but maybe that’s just because they haven’t had reason to.”

Marinette winced. “I… really don’t think that’s it… plus Ladybug and Chat Noir never said that someone was helping Hawkmoth. Mayura never appeared, at least in public. I don’t know what we can do about this right now, especially without proof. Maybe if Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared, but…”

She sounded doubtful. Alya was beginning to think that the final battle was even worse than Marinette had alluded to.

She hesitated a moment, before turning to Adrien. “I- I think I owe you an apology. I thought you might’ve been helping Hawkmoth, but… well… I was just judging you by who your dad was. You’ve been nothing but sweet and kind.”

Adrien smiled at her, though it was slightly strained. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. A lot of people in this city have suffered at Hawkmoth’s hands. I don’t blame them for being scared, or angry at any reminders of him.”

“That doesn’t make it RIGHT,” Marinette said heatedly.

Nino nodded. “Dude just because something’s done to you it doesn’t mean it’s justified, or that it shouldn’t be made better. Like with your old man forbidding parties. I didn’t let that stop me from bribing your bodyguard into letting me and the other guys throw a party at your place for you!”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It kinda escalated though. I think half the guys at Paris were partying in your room by the end!”

Alya gave Nino a sideways look. “And ONLY the guys because they ditched us girls while we were planting trees with a lame excuse. Seriously if you’d said you wanted to throw a party for Adrien while his dad was away, you could’ve just told us!”

Nino winced. “Yeah, my bad. At least we got to have fun there for a while before the akuma attack.”

“Akuma attack?” Adrien asked, eyes wide. “But I thought you said Father was gone!”

“He was- OOOOOOOH.”

“Yeeaaaah I don’t think he was actually gone,” Alya said. “You threw a ‘secret’ party in Hawkmoth’s house, WHILE he was still at home.”

Adrien gaped at Nino. “How’re you not DEAD?!”

Nino chuckled. “Lucky I guess?”

*twinkle twinkle*

A familiar red mass flew towards Alya and Nino.

Adrien’s eyes widened.

“Behind the portrait!” he blurted out, just as the two of them were enveloped by the ladybugs, spiriting them off to whence they came.

It was silent for a moment.

“Do you think they heard?” Adrien asked Marinette.

“I hope so,” she said, looking off in the direction the ladybugs flew.

She turned to him. “I was planning on setting up some hang out time with Alya and Nino later this week. If you’re not busy… would you like to join?”

His smile told her everything she needed to know.

#bakery enemies au #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #marinette dupain cheng #buggachat

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uvobreakmylegs · 4 years

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Compliance

another fic inspired by the opening scene of a horror movie. This time it’s Feitan being awful

Warnings: torture, graphic depictions of violence, graphic imagery, blood, slight smut, Feitan makes the reader do awful shit

“Stop screaming. We've barely gotten started.”

Feitan's words went unnoticed by the man strapped to the table beneath him, who yelled and struggled at his bonds as he tried to escape the hot poker Feitan was pressing against his side. You weren't sure who the man was; Feitan hadn't told you anything other than to get downstairs, and you'd done so without question. It was a scenario you were used to by now, and experience had taught you that if you just went along with it you were more likely to get out of this particular instance unscathed.

So when Feitan had kicked the struggling man into that torture room, the most you did was flinch at the noise. Trying to help the man would be a wasted effort and would just make Feitan upset with you, and you had no desire to give him any excuse to add to the scars that littered your skin.

You sat quietly in the corner as Feitan roughed the man up, stripping him from the waist up before he was strapped to the familiar metal table that sat in the center of the room.

It was sad that you were used to such things now. That he had shown you so much violence, so much darkness that resided within one man's soul, that you had become numb to it. It hadn't been like that at the beginning. Originally he needed to strap you to that chair to make you watch, and you cried and screamed at the things you saw. There had even been times where you had begged for the lives of those being tortured, and the results of doing so had been disastrous for both you and his victim as Feitan interpreted that as you having feelings for them. Those unfortunates were forced to linger on for days before they were granted the mercy of death, while the scars, bites and bruises he left on your skin increased in number.

Just don't say anything and get through it as best you can.

And that had worked for a time. You stayed as a silent observer in your corner while Feitan worked, only getting up when he had given you permission to do so. Do as he says and you won't get hurt.

But this time was going to be different.

Only a week ago he had confronted you, telling you that he wanted you to do more. When you'd asked him what that meant, he had rolled his eyes and answered “I'm not content with you just watching while I work anymore. I want you to assist me.”

It took a few seconds to realize that he was telling you to help torture people, and your throat seized up as you stared at him dumbly. Feitan just ignored your reaction, continuing by telling you that he'd let you choose what you wanted to do, that it could be as simple as taking out an eyeball or breaking a finger.

“I could even mark where you should cut,” he said mockingly, “would you like that? I paint the man, you cut the lines?”

You wouldn't be able to stomach doing the things that he did to people. But there was no way you would be able to talk your way out of this; there was nothing you could do once Feitan had made up his mind.

His musings on the tortures you would be able to perform got gradually more gruesome the longer he continued, and you needed to say something before he became upset with your lack of response and just chose for you. And with him, he would choose the worst thing he could think of.

Then your suggestion had spilled from your lips before you could really think about it, interrupting him. He paused and asked you to repeat yourself. You did so, and though it was hard to tell with the bandanna he wore, his facial expression didn't change, but you caught the slight glint in his eyes.

“..... Interesting.”

Feitan turned to leave the room, stopping only once to look back over at you while you tried not to have a panic attack as you second-guessed yourself and what you had volunteered yourself for.

“Teeth, huh?”

The hammer was heavy on your lap. The chisel was as well, but the hammer was a solid weight on your legs that you had to constantly readjust to try and feel comfortable, the gravity making it weigh like an anchor as you waited for Feitan to call you to his side.

By now Feitan had tossed the poker aside in favor of a new torture device, one that resembled a pair of pliers that he used to start the removal of the man's fingernails. The man screamed every time they were pulled out with a sickening rip, his struggles beginning anew when Feitan turned to deposit the nails into a small metal bowl to the side of him.

Feitan had barely looked at you this whole time and you hadn't been called up yet. A small, naive part of you hoped that you wouldn't have to. After all, you rationalized, the thing he wanted from you wouldn't help in interrogating the man – if anything, it would hinder it. Sometimes, when his victims were stubborn enough, they would hold out against the pain for as long as humanly possible, and that stubbornness would drive Feitan into such a rage that he would prolong their suffering long into the night, not being satisfied until he had put them through everything they were physically capable of and getting the satisfaction of watching the light in their eyes fade. It enraged him for anyone to defy him like that, and he wanted the pleasure of bringing them pain to belong to him and him alone. Maybe this man would be like that. It would mean immense pain for him, and you would need to sit there the entire time, but that way you wouldn't need to play any further part in this. But even as you silently begged the man to stay strong, you had a sinking feeling that you wouldn't be getting out of this. The man was a wreck, voice hoarse with tears and saliva streaming down the sides of his face as he begged for the torture to end.

Feitan reached the thumb of the man's left hand when he couldn't take it any more.

“I'll talk!” the man screeched, “I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but for the love of God, stop please!”

“Then talk,” Feitan answered, calmly setting down the pliers and leaning back while the man gasped for breath.

“Lie, and it'll be much worse,” he added.

The man nodded desperately, eager to please for the sake of his life. Meanwhile you sat with a pit forming in your stomach. Your eyes went back to the tools sitting in your lap and you would have let out a small sigh if you weren't worried that Feitan might notice.

“Th-the info was given to me by a-a woman! Her n-name was Marceline, I think!” the man yelled.

“You 'think'?” Feitan asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I-I know it was! That was her name!” the man insisted as his eyes grew wide on realizing his mistake.

“She's an older woman! Red hair, with a scar on her neck. She told me to feed that information to the troupe!” he continued.

“And you gave us that rotten info knowing it was a lie?”

“I-I just-!”

“You were hoping we'd fall for that trap, right? That none of us would come after you because we'd be dead,” Feitan's cold voice cut through.

“Too bad you're unlucky.”

The man flinched when Feitan picked the pliers back up.

“Please! I've told you everything!” he begged.

“I know.”

There was confusion in that man's eyes when Feitan turned his back on him, walking over to a shelf to place the bloody pliers. The man looked to you as he had done several times since the interrogation had started, confusion in his eyes as he tried to get some clue as to what was going to happen to him.

When Feitan spoke again, his words were directed at you.

“Get over here.”

The hammer and chisel hung at your sides as you stood, the hammer's weight pulling down on your dominant arm and making it hang slightly lower as you approached the table. Feitan walked towards it as well, a new device in hand while the man's protests began again, begging to be let go.

“I've told you everything!” he repeated.

“You said that,” Feitan answered, clearly annoyed.

“Then let me go! I'll do whatever you say, whatever the troupe wants, but don't hurt me anymore!”

Feitan tsked.

“Pathetic. So much bravado earlier, and now this.”

He wrenched the man's jaw open and slipped in a metal piece that fitted itself to either side of his mouth, forcing his mouth to stay open when Feitan's hands pulled away.

“What happens now isn't for the troupe. It's for my own pleasure,” he said.

His hands went into his pockets, and he glanced to you across the table.

“Your turn.”

They were words that you had been dreading, and your palms felt sweaty as you gripped the hammer to your chest, taking in deep breaths to try and calm yourself. The man was looking up at you, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull as he pleaded for you to stop, though the words weren't easy to understand with the way his lips had been forced open.

Feitan spoke your name in a warning tone and you bit your lip – if he needed to say anything else it would mean punishment for you.

Slowly, you lifted the chisel and placed the edge against the top of his central incisors. You couldn't stop the trembling in your hand and the chisel rattled against his teeth; to you it seemed like it echoed through the room.

When you lifted the hammer the man was red in the face, screaming at you to stop. You wished you could apologize to him, just let out a quick “I'm sorry” for what little it was worth. But Feitan wouldn't like that. And if you took any longer to get this started he would do something unspeakable to you.

You lifted the hammer over your head.

'Gravity does most of the work,' you told yourself. Like that helped.

You swung it down.

The crack that sounded reverberated in your ears as you stood petrified, watching the man beneath you writhe in pain after three of his teeth managed to fly out of his mouth, blood gushing from the open wounds. With the angle you had hit it them, some of the teeth behind the ones you had knocked out looked slightly askew and you looked back to the hammer, noting just how substantial its weight was.

“Do it again.”

Feitan's voice cut through your confused thoughts, and you rushed to comply, adjusting the chisel again without looking at him. He still sounded annoyed.

It sounded like the man was trying to beg you to stop again, but you ignored him as you swung your hammer again, taking out a canine and some of his premolars. They managed to fly out of his mouth again and hit the metal table sounding like pieces of hail on a car. You took less time to compose yourself after that, switching to the other side of his mouth and swinging again.

Even though he was practically out of his mind with pain, there was a hatred in the man's eyes as he looked up at you. It was hard to blame him for that, and you wished you had an excuse to stop, but fear of Feitan kept you in check as it usually did.

With the top gum having been turned into a mess of missing and broken teeth, you switched to the lower set. You were halfway done, you told yourself. Just a few more swings and then this would be over.

It wouldn't be, but hopefully your part in it would be ended.

You hit one of his bottom canines and a few drops of blood had somehow managed to spatter onto your cheek. Instinctively you set the hammer down, wiping at your face with a shaky hand. At least that gave you an reason for taking a break.

Feitan had been quiet since his last order, and throughout this you had been too scared to even look at him, fearing that might trigger him into some sort of action against you. But as the man gasped in pain, against your better judgment you looked over across the table.

Maybe it was because of your victim's screams, or just the way your heart pounded in your ears, but you didn't realize how heavily he was breathing until you looked at him. He had changed positions when you weren't looking, gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were turning white, his figure completely rigid and his eyes practically burning a hole in you, excitement dancing in that normally cold gaze.

Was he.... Aroused by this?

You snapped your head back to the man, whose protests had become weaker, only able to let out strained noises that vaguely resembled the word “no”. Picking up the hammer, you raised it once again. Just a little bit more, and then it'd be over. You could go back to your corner and let the numbness carry you through the rest of this scene.

Feitan's breathing was still audible.

The man's tongue was still moving, trying to form words to appeal to you.

The blood from the holes in his gums dripped down to the back of his throat, making him choke and cough up onto the now bloody edge of the chisel.

The amount of blood in that man's mouth.

And you were the one who did this to him.

“I'm going to throw up.”

The words barely escape your lips before you practically drop the hammer and chisel and rush out of the room, sprinting up the concrete steps to try and make it to the bathroom in time.

It was one of the few small mercies Feitan granted you, that you could leave if you felt like you were going to be sick. Turns out, for a man who tortures people for a living, Feitan had no tolerance for vomit.

But it was a small mercy with a stipulation: you needed to come right back after you were finished. And he would typically wait for your return before he continued, intent on you witnessing everything.

As you threw up the meal you had eaten earlier, the bile already a clear taste in your mouth, your mind went back to the image of that man, and how you could count that Feitan would make you finish what you had started. All you could hope for at this moment was that he wouldn't be too upset with you leaving in the middle of it.

Surprisingly, he was waiting for you outside of the bathroom. Though he seemed calmer now, you looked down to the floor immediately after your eyes met.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, fiddling with your fingers, “I just needed a break. I'll go back down.”

“Don't bother,” he said, stopping you just as you made a move to walk past him.

“You did well enough. I'll let you off the hook for the rest of it.”

You nodded in response, but said nothing: whatever small mercy this is, there's going to be a catch somewhere.

“Go back to the bedroom. Undress, and wait for me.”

And there it is.

You looked back up at him, and while his posture was relaxed, that excitement you had seen earlier is still present in his gaze. So you were right that he was aroused, though perhaps at this point you shouldn't be too surprised about it.

“Okay.”

Feitan was already walking back to the basement stairway, and you wondered if he was going to kill that man downstairs, or set something up so that he was suffering even while Feitan had his way with you. For the sake of that soul down there, you hoped it was the former.

“Make sure you brush your teeth before I come back up,” he ordered.

He didn't take long to come back to the bedroom, spatters of blood visible on his dark clothes as he stalked towards your form while you sat still on the bed. His clothing was quickly removed and thrown to the floor, forgotten as Feitan used two blood-stained fingers to lift up your jaw and bring you into a chaste kiss.

The goosebumps that had formed on your arms while you had waited in the cold quickly vanished as he pushed you to your back, crawling over you to let his bloody hands trail over your body, tracing your healed scars while marking your skin with smears of that unfortunate man's blood. He kissed you again; this time it was more demanding and you opened your mouth in submission, the taste of cleansing mint still present as he dove his tongue in.

His hard length entered you shortly after and he started at a rough pace that had you grasping at the sheets, letting out small shrieks when he would lean down to bite you.

You would be hurting in the morning, but it was better to just go along with what he wanted.

He could do far worse than this.

#feitan portor #hxh feitan #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere feitan #reader insert #feitan x reader #if anyone caught the amnesia reference I'm proud of you

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Text

Bad Decisions

[My Commission Info] | [My Ao3] | [Ko-Fi]

I was again commissioned for a companion piece to this one! This time from the reader’s pov and some backstory. Thank you ♥

Characters: Ignatz Victor (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) x Reader Words: 3401 Warnings: Yandere, Obsession, Mentioning of stalking, Mentioning of War/Death/Blood

You could still remember the first time you met him vividly.

Taking a seat on the ledge above the training grounds, you heaved a long breath, trying to calm your racing heart. If only you could have put this energy into training more, instead of using it as a reason to take a break, but your legs felt wobbly just from thinking about getting back up. For the better of the last three weeks, you had trained and studied tirelessly. Being granted the chance to attend the academy of your dreams was no reason to slack off, and you were thankful for the opportunity you were given.

But… rubbing your sore legs and feeling your feet pulsate in the tight leather boots as they finally got a break, you had to admit that it was more challenging than you expected. Even though you had built up stamina and muscles before coming here, you were still met with the instructors’ high expectations for their top-tier students. Day in, day out, you were either on your feet and training or with your head in the books studying. No wonder it felt so draining when all you did was pressure yourself more and more on being perfect and prepared for all that would come your way. After all, your expectations of yourself far exceeded the ones anyone had in you.

“It’s tough, isn’t it?” a timid voice called out to you, and you turned your head towards it, a flask with water being held out in your direction. Surprised you took it, finally getting a look at the person behind the voice. A young man, not much older than you, smiled at you friendly, his glasses tilting a little from him leaning forward. Without waiting for your reply, he pointed at the space next to you, asking, “Mind if I join you?” and you shimmied to the side to allow him to take a seat.

“Swordsmanship isn’t my strong point either. I keep forgetting where to put my feet,” he laughed bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. He appeared friendly, approachable, and kind, but his physique was on the weaker side, making his struggles a tad obvious. Nonetheless, you weren’t one to judge someone based on appearance, and taking a sip from the water flask, you felt yourself be soothed by the refreshment. Having spent so much time holed up in the library or handling weapons hadn’t given you a lot of chances to make friends, so having someone be so kind and nonchalant around you genuinely made you happy.

Handing the flask back to him, the young man gladly accepted it. His shirt had stains of polish and sweat on it, and you realized he must have come from training himself just like you. You wondered what year he was in, or if he was a classmate you just never noticed.

“Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? Approaching you so out of the blue. I’m Ignatz. Ignatz Victor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Though his name didn’t ring a bell, you shook his hand out of respect. Even if it started out a little awkward, you two soon fell into a comfortable conversation as you shared your weak points, and so did he. Your words weren’t forced out, and you started to relax around him. At the same time, Ignatz laughed and smiled at you, putting you at ease as well. Perhaps you two were more alike than it appeared at first glance, and thus you were relieved to find someone like-minded.

At that moment, you didn’t find him approaching you so weird anymore. More so, you were relieved to have someone accept you so openly and interact with you, who had been rather lonely up to this point. Part of you had always wanted to make friends in the Monastery and hang out with them, and this was the closest to it you had come. It was also refreshing to have someone to talk to, and as it turned out, Ignatz was able to lift your mood significantly with his input and suggestions as you spoke about your everyday life at the Monastery.

“Come,” he prompted, jumping down the small ledge and standing before you. Holding out his hand to you gallantly, he waited for you to join him back on the training grounds with a kind smile. You didn’t feel pressured to join him. Instead, you wanted to join him, agreeing that it might be good to not cool down too much.

“Let’s see if we can help each other,” Ignatz laughed, and perhaps, for the first time since you arrived, you let out a chuckle. Taking his hand and letting him lead you back to where the weapons were, you agreed with an enthusiastic, “Okay!”

It wasn’t a friendship you expected to have, but with every passing day, you felt yourself growing and thriving from it. With Ignatz by your side, new things were opened to you. He took you out in the city and showed you around the fields. His interests sparked new ones in you, and soon enough, you weren’t caught in that somber life you had built at the Academy before. Having someone to motivate you and lift the burden on your shoulders with a clever and upbeat nature made you strive for more and greater things. He picked you up when you were down and in a slump, helping you to enjoy your time much more than you did when you still struggled to find your place. Time passed on, and you two still stuck together. Everything was going so well.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

It was the little things that made you nervous. The glances that lingered too long, the hand next to yours on the library table whose pinky kept touching yours. Goodbye hugs that were too tight and eyes that tore away from anything just to look at you. Ignatz’s unfinished paintings that he never worked on again once his attention shifted to you instead, making you feel bad for the waste of paint, and the tests he seemed to flunk because he only ever cared for your lectures.

Somehow you were glad when he wasn’t allowed to change classes. This way, you’d have at least a little bit of privacy since he wouldn’t let you go train alone, even if you told him you had a different sparring partner this time. It had started out so innocently. You were just two people who got along well and spent a lot of time together. But now, roughly three months since you came to the Monastery, you wondered if there was anything else going on.

By now, you had made new friends and then lost some, but you found the courage to join clubs and help the student council because Ignatz had been with you all this time and supporting you. Without him, you probably wouldn’t have had the success you achieved, and while you were glad for such a good friend by your side, you slowly felt like you were drowning again. Not drowning in work and insecurities like in the beginning, but drowning in Ignatz’s presence in your life.

Truth be told, you wanted to spend some hours alone every now and then. With everything going on, you searched for ways to relax and destress from the buzz of the day, and not always did you wish for company that, frankly, made you anxious. Even if it was hard to pinpoint - perhaps because part of you wished you didn’t have to pinpoint it at all - something about Ignatz felt off.

There were off-hand comments about your life that he shouldn’t have been familiar with. Finding out about your extended family was weird, but you thought it might be registered somewhere that he could have stumbled upon. However, when he brought up your favorite toys and books from before you had joined the Academy, you raised an eyebrow. His mentions were so casual and woven into conversations that it was sometimes hard to find them, but when he also started to talk about the days you spent apart from him in the Monastery, you knew something was up.

Part of you only wanted to believe he might have a crush on you.

Sure, as sweet and positive as he was, Ignatz still occasionally tended to be clumsy and awkward. It was always easy to forgive him for a wrongdoing as he’d apologize and learn from his mistakes, though, so you never worried much. Still, it seemed like he tried to get even closer than he was to you by following you around and checking on you more often than not. It might have been pleasant and cute at first, but you had to admit you were beginning to be creeped out by his obsessive observation of you, knowing even little details like your toilet breaks or what you had for lunch.

Perhaps it was just his way of trying to tell you how much he cared and wanted to be with you. But what if it wasn’t?

The thing he didn’t realize was that the more he pushed himself on you, the more you wanted distance from him. It had been a harsh realization, one over which you lost sleep for a few nights. Because how would you be able to make it clear to the person who had supported you all this time, kept you company, and helped you through everything, that you wanted to have a break from them? Perhaps, a few days or a week. Maybe it would stop the negative feelings you had about him if only you wouldn’t interact for a while. At least, that’s what you hoped.

Waiting in front of his classroom, you picked at the skin around your fingernails nervously. Class was already dismissed, but you could see Ignatz talking with the teacher, his back turned to you. It was taking a while, but you had to do it. Better now than never. If he had feelings for you, he had to realize he wasn’t showing them in a way you were comfortable with. And if he genuinely liked and appreciated what you two had, he’d understand your request for a break as well.

It was nerve-wracking to wait for him, but eventually, you heard his signature laugh as he waved goodbye to the teacher and turned to leave, sorting his papers for a moment before he noticed you. Anxiously, you lifted your hand in a greeting, and Ignatz’s eyes widened and began to shine amorously, a broad smile curling his lips. He was so happy to see you that he quickly ran up to you, almost colliding with some passing student. But he didn’t even care, only coming to a halt right in front of you.

“Ah, I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” was his first response even though you two hadn’t actually made an appointment with each other. Ignatz stood closely to you, almost enough so that your chests would touch. It was a kind of forced intimacy that made you uncomfortable. Still, in foreknowledge about what you were going to drop on him shortly, you allowed it.

“Actually…” you mumbled, looking around in hopes that the crowds would start to dissolve. “I’ve got something to tell you. But maybe not here?”

Ignatz’s expression only grew softer as he heard that, and you wondered what he thought you were going to tell you. Nevertheless, he softly pulled you by the hand and into the small garden next to the classrooms. Sure enough, there weren’t as many students here as most took after-class activities or went to the training grounds instead, and it made you feel better. Breaking his heart in front of everyone was an embarrassment you didn’t want to put Ignatz through.

“So, what’s up?” he laughed, happy as ever, but he had yet to stop holding your hand, which you pulled away from his for him instead.

“Ignatz, it’s just…”

As expected, it was hard to form the words in your mouth. There were too many accusations on mind that you didn’t want to hit your friend with, but how else were you supposed to tell him? Something had to come to mind now, preferable a reason that wouldn’t ruin your friendship. Ignatz looked at you expectantly, as if he was hoping for a confession rather than a break announcement, but you simply didn’t return those feelings of his.

“I wanted to talk to you about us, and--”

Just when you finally managed to bring up the courage to confront him, a voice behind you called out to Ignatz, who - reluctantly - looked away after his name was called out a second time. “Byleth wants to talk to you!” a student you didn’t know announced to Ignatz, and you bit your lip.

Just your luck.

“I will go after--” Ignatz tried to argue, dismissing the call, but you gave his arm a pat to get his attention, quietly releasing him to go.

“It’s not that important anyway,” you assured him. Like a liar. “We can talk about it some other time.”

“Are you sure?” Ignatz questioned, furrowing his brows. You could see his honest disappointment in not hearing the words he was desperate to receive from you in his eyes, but you just nodded. “Of course, we can always talk about it later!”

Reluctantly, he looked back to the student who was waiting to lead him back to Byleth before he sighed. “Okay, I’ll be quick. You can tell me after that!”

“S-Sure,” you mumbled, forcing a smile on your lips, and Ignatz reached out his hands, squeezing each arm comfortingly as he saw your awkwardness. Finally, he passed you by, not without having his eyes on you until he really couldn’t anymore, and off he went. Just like that, you had missed your chance to tell him, and with it, all the courage you had built just for this moment.

Just before he turned the corner, Ignatz stopped, and your eyes met for a split second. “I’ll see you at training later?” he asked, sounding worried. You gulped before nodding, and he went on his way with a tender smile playing on his lips. It was the first time you really didn’t want to go train since you came to the Monastery. Just sit out for the day, and maybe, forever, so you wouldn’t have to see him.

In the end, you never got around to tell him. Before you knew it, you were busy with your duties and studies. Even though Ignatz’s behavior continued, you didn’t have the time to give it your attention.

Then it happened. The event that would change everything in your life and everyone else’s.

And the tragedy ensued.

As you carried yourself through the forest, colliding with countless branches and thorns in your way, you felt so frustrated. It all could have been different, but now that you chose this path, it would be the one to die on. If only you had told him your feelings back then. If only you had made an effort to hold him back and fess up. Then nothing like this would have needed to happen.

Your hands were stained with the blood of your friends and comrades. The same ones you spent the best months of your life with. The ones that helped you get proficient enough to kill them and the ones that begged for mercy as you gave them a quick death. And yet, because you never told him to back off, you had never been able to make the same cut with Ignatz. He had been the beginning and the end, the reason you had survived for so long and the reason why you were now deserting from the fraction you swore your fealty to.

Goddess, you were pathetic.

Secretly, you had always known this. No matter how hard you tried to cover it up, you weren’t a genius or especially well-raised like the others at the Academy. You didn’t even have a title to defend, and you chose the side that seemed less risky when it was time to decide to whom you gave your loyalty. All the efforts you had put into your time at the Monastery had been the only thing you were good for - working hard and diligently. But you weren’t cut out for these heavy burdens.

And you couldn’t kill the only true friend you ever had when it was most crucial to do so.

Your whole life could have played out differently. You could have asked to be moved to another frontier in the countryside. Maybe you’d have died at some point, but at least you wouldn’t have to meet all these people you once loved and admired, seeing them die one after the other. Or maybe you should have just given up and let Ignatz do the deed, at least so you didn’t have to hear the words you always dreaded. He had utterly taken you aback with his confession, and you felt even more confused and appalled than back in school.

Hearing him confess his love, you simply couldn’t fight him anymore.

It was wrong. Wrong to run, both from your duties and Ignatz, but it had been the only thing you knew how to do. You never learned any better, never stood up for yourself in any choice you made. Following instructions and orders was all you could do, and even if you tried to do something on your own, you’d always end up needing to rely on others. Plagued by these thoughts, it only pained you more when you heard Ignatz shout behind you, realizing he still wasn’t going to let you go.

“I looked up to you! I needed you, and you needed me! And yet, you betrayed us! And yet, I only liked you more!”

Yes, you needed him. You needed someone to save you when you were lost. But right now, you needed anyone but him to take pity on you. Anyone but Ignatz to tell you what to do. You needed to decide on your own what you were going to do from now on!

A sudden push tore you out of your thoughts. You had come so far and almost reached the other end of the forest, but the saving light disappeared in front of your eyes, replaced by the dirty ground as you crashed down. Frustration, pain, fear - all of it caused tears to collect in your eyes. The weight of Ignatz’s body on top of you made you struggle against him, the last effort to escape the clingy obsession he had with you.

“I love you! I love you so much, don’t ever leave me again!” he yelled, his face contorted in pain as if he was the person going through a lot. What expression were you making? It satisfied you to see the disgust visible in your face reflecting in Ignatz’s eyes, hoping he’d get the hint. Twisting and turning your wrists, you hoped it would cause him to let go, but his grip only tightened the more you moved.

Out of sheer willpower, you managed to lift your pinned down right hand to his face, scratching and fighting against him. But alas, he kept you where he wanted, making you wonder where he managed to gain so much muscle strength to do it. He looked different now, but all you could see was the nice guy who first approached you at the training grounds, a weak but chipper young man. And yet, perhaps because of the war, or maybe you simply never noticed it before, the aura of madness was all that surrounded him.

It was just like back then. Ignatz was the one who took the decision about your life off you. It was a slow, painful realization, your screams being covered by the ones on the battlefield, and your tears disappeared in the dirt beneath you. You’d never have the last word in your life. Someone would always come to take it away from you. Maybe you were just not meant for it, but there was nothing more terrible you could imagine than not being the master of your own self.

Bad decisions led to this outcome. But how could you have known back then, when Ignatz was a wolf in sheep’s clothing?

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princecharmingmendes · 3 years

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Heart by Heart | Chapter II | Raul Mendes

*secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Hi, this is the second chapter of this series, you can find the first one here. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading!

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 5.2K+

*Warnings: cursing, mentions of violence/crimes, migraine due to work stress, Raul teasing the reader endlessly (for me, that’s the most important warning). Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.

*Posted: July 8th, 2021.

-*-

A week later things were back to normal.

Sure, the night they came back, after they were checked for any injuries on the med department and were cleared, Raul dragged her back to his apartment claiming he was craving sushi and he was only ordering if she was with him. In reality, that was a way to keeping his head busy with something else so the events of that day would be coped nicely without so much suffering. And one way of doing it was keeping his girl, best friend and partner, at a close distance so he knew she’d be safe and well.

He was extra sweet that night, making sure she had everything she needed, even agreed to put on face masks with her while watching a random movie. And she was really glad to have him near. The thought of him getting her, or worst... it just killed her a bit. But he was safe and he had his arms securely around her, and that was enough to put her on dreamland and having a great night of sleep.

Unfortunately that was not the case for Y/N today.

Ever since Seth was back, he spent most of his time on the med bay to recover, he had to go through surgery and was finally recovering, but ever since he was back, every piece of information he had was being collected, and she was the one responsible to write it down. Most of the info he had was encoded and she was supposed to break it. Y/N’s been working nonstop for the past week, and when she had the opportunity to relax all by herself in her house, she felt restless. The main reason is that the person who had Seth was one of the most wanted man on the planet. Geonoff Reyes was capable of the vilest things without giving a second thought, and he’s been wanted for years now, and apparently Seth had the newest information of his whereabouts and new plans.

And knowing that was enough to put Y/N in restless nights of sleep, when she was even able to drift off. Most of her hours were invested on figuring out whatever she could, and several nights were only the continuation of her job during the day. And yeah, it was reckless and a bit stupid of her to sacrifice so much in a research, but Y/N knew this was a great opportunity and the biggest amount of clues they’ve ever received, she couldn’t let this all go. And she had to work fast, so Geonoff didn’t have enough time to notice some information missing or that someone outside of his limited inner circle so he wouldn’t chance anything. Or even move outside the country again, putting a massive political obstacle on their way.

Y/N should’ve known better than to barely get any sleep in over seven days. She knew better than to barely eat or drink anything other than coffee. She knew and did it anyone. And that’s why she ended up where she was. Seven A.M. sharp on her little office on her company’s Head Quarters with a killing migraine that only got worse under the fluorescent lights. Y/N groaned softly as she basically collided on her office chair, cursing under her breath whoever thought bright white lights was a great idea. She was softly rubbing her temples when she heard a knock on her door, before someone came in without being invited, a delicious smell of coffee coming alongside the intruder. She didn’t need to look up to know Raul would be standing right in front of her desk.

“What?” she grumbled, spinning in her chair to turn on her computer without even sparing a glance at him.

Raul chuckled “good morning to you too, sunshine, I’m not even daring to ask how you are”

Y/N rolled her eyes and wincing at the pain the movement brought her “look, go pester someone else, I’m not in a good day”

“Yeah, that’s easy to see, gremlin, that’s why I brought you this” and a soft thud on her desk made her turn.

Raul was standing in front of her desk as she imagined, wearing his usual black outfit, a long sleeved tight turtleneck, accentuating all the muscles on his arms and back, tucked into a pair of dark grey trousers and Y/N had to hold back all her thoughts that were rather inappropriate to have on your best friend. And she wanted to be mad at how effortlessly beautiful he looked, just standing there, hands supporting his weight on the glass table as he leant forward casually to pick at her computer. He looked like a fucking runaway model at seven in the morning, his citric scent leaving her slightly intoxicated, but she knew he didn’t do it on purpose, he was just naturally hot.

She than darted her eyes from his body quickly to not seem as if she was ogling him, which she totally was, only to be met with a steaming cup of black coffee. She rolled her eyes on the little attempts of black hearts he drew with a sharpie alongside a poorly written ‘secret admirer’ on the disposable cup. Y/N shook her head huffing a laugh as she took it.

“Aren’t you supposed to thank me?”

Y/N arched her brow at him “what for, exactly?”

“For being the best friend you’ll ever have?!” he stated as if it was obvious “come on, you look like you need it and I swear I didn’t spike it with anything”

“You’re saying you did out of your own free will? A benevolent act?” Y/N questioned playfully inspecting the cup.

Raul scoffed feigning hurt “Of course, I’m a good guy, practically a gentleman, you gremlin, how dare you think any different?” Behind all the teasing in his voice, she could see the worry evident in his golden eyes. Raul didn’t know all the details about what she was digging into since that were her boss’s order, but he knew enough to know she was probably overworking herself and getting a bit anxious. He knew her better than anyone and there were barely any secrets between them.

“Fine” Y/N sighed taking a sip from the coffee, and it was precisely what she liked “thank you for being a decent human being once in your lifetime”

“You are very welcome, so any news?” he asked pointing to the screens of her computer.

“Not really, I guess I was too tired to do much last night” she said opening all the images she had collected over the past week on her five computer screens “you know basically all the important stuff I gathered, I’m also monitoring the surveillance cameras on the places he might be, trying to get a glimpse of him, but till now nothing, only this car that’s been parked here for five days now”

“Weird”

Y/N giggled to herself before closing everything again “yeah, I know”

“So, I didn’t exactly came here just for the coffee” Raul said crossing his arms across his chest, standing on his full height, his biceps popping against the fabric of his shirt.

“Of course not, I was just waiting for you order, cap” she said as she reached into her purse for a painkiller.

His signature smirk appeared as he beamed down at her “Don’t tempt me, doll”

“What is it then?” she asked and before Raul could reply, someone knocked on her door.

“Come in” he managed to say before her and soon enough Raul’s copy stuck his head inside.

“Oh hi guys” Peter said before fully walking in and closing the door behind him “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, what do you need?” Y/N said turning to face him completely.

Seeing Peter right beside Raul just made them look a lot more different. Sure, they were triplets, but they had completely opposite personalities. While Raul looked like a super model bad boy out of every romcom, Peter looked soft and gentle. He was just as handsome, his hair a bit more messy and a pair of glasses perched on his nose, adding to the soft features. He also wore light washed jeans and a very soft looking button up, a permanent blush on his cheeks. And despite the 6’3 and big muscles, he was almost like a walking teddy bear with a golden heart, specially if you got to know him.

“I actually have some stuff for you two to test on my lab downstairs, and I thought since I was already here I could call you two to join me”

“Oh of course” Y/N said jumping to her feet and cursing under her breath, momentarily having forgotten the excruciating migraine she was still having “now right?”

“Yeah, but only if you can”

“Sure, come on, Raul” Y/N said grabbing her cup of coffee before walking to the door.

Raul chuckled lowly before following her and his brother to the elevator “whatever you say, boss”

“Don’t give me any ideas” she mumbled before pressing the button, but as soon as the doors opened, Y/N regretted getting out of her office.

Standing on the elevator was Daphne. Daphne was one breathtakingly gorgeous woman. With bright green eyes and golden soft model like waves, always dressed nicely and with paper white teeth, and to top that, she was a great agent. But she clearly had a crush on Raul and she’s been hitting on him for a while now, but he didn’t seem to care much, which made no sense at all. And for some reason she wasn’t as friendly towards Y/N, Daphne was never directly rude, but she always made sure to look her up and down and was never her friendly self. And Y/N wasn’t one to push anyone to like her, it just made situations like this a bit more awkward.

“Oh hello” Daphne said with a warm smile.

“Morning” Raul responded as he climbed in the elevator.

Y/N mumbled a quick “hi” before moving to the back of it with Peter.

Daphne turned towards Raul and gently placed her hand on his bicep “I heard about the little incident on your latest mission, are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, not even a single scratch”

“That’s great, I mean, how did it happen again? Was it a failure on the planning or watching?” she asked and Y/N almost spat the coffee she was drinking, seeing Peter send a look her way.

“It was my fault actually, the team handed it pretty well” Raul replied unceremoniously.

“Oh, I see” she said pulling her hand from his arm and nervously placing a strand of loose hair behind her ear “hm, actually there was something I wanted to ask you”

God, how long could this elevator take to arrive on the last floor.

Raul only hummed in response, turning his face to the side to watch her so Daphne proceeded “Hm, there’s this new place that opened this weekend down the street and apparently the sandwiches there are amazing, me and a few other agents were planning to have lunch there today, and I was wondering if you’d like to join”

With that he truly seemed taken aback a bit “oh, I unfortunately can’t today, I’m sorry” with that he turned back to face Y/N “that’s what I wanted to tell you earlier, we have that lunch meeting today, Shawn’s in town and he wanted to invite you to lunch with us and his friends”

“Oh shit, I completely forgot” Y/N whined, her head pounding “I don’t think I can make it today, I’m so sorry”

Raul smiled softly at her “yeah, I figured, if you get any better let me know”

“Oh you’re sick?” Daphne asked turning to her as well.

Y/N shook her head, regretting it immediately “just a bit of a migraine”

“I hope you get better soon” Daphne offered a tight lip smile and Y/N just nodded in response.

“We’re here” Peter said for the first time “Bye, Daphne” he said getting out of the elevator pulling Y/N with him.

“Why are you running? Slow down, you’re gonna pull my arm off” Y/N hushed it as Peter kept on with the fast pace.

“What was that?” he asked in a low tone.

Y/N then came in realization “right?! Why won’t he go out with her?”

“I think he might be just not interested at all, but I wasn’t talking about that, you know Raul can be pretty secretive about his feelings, right?” Peter asked with an archer brow, knowing look on his eyes.

Y/N stepped into his lab alongside him “well yeah”

“I don’t know, I think I saw something there”

“Between me and Raul?!”

Peter leaned against his desk with his arms crossed “Well, more of him towards you, it’s actually something I’ve been noticing for a while”

“What are you even talking about? He’s always been like that with me” Y/N tried avoiding Peter’s gaze, afraid somehow that would give away the little spark of hope on her eyes.

“No, I mean, yes, but I feel like that intensified a bit, just pay attention to it” he said and then looked behind her.

Y/N turned around only to be met with Raul standing at the door “sorry, got a little caught up”

“We noticed, cap, it’s okay, no important details were discussed in your absence” she said teasingly and he just rolled his eyes playfully at her.

“Okay, I upgraded your coms a bit, so switching between channels will be easier” Peter started picking up the little earpieces up “And I also took notes about the appearance of my glasses yeah? Now would you mind approving the design of it, miss fashion icon”

Y/N laughed softly and went to check on the 3D design “thank you, I do take fashion very seriously, I only loose it to your brother”

Raul scoffed “Of course I would be involved in it somehow”

Peter laughed “come on, I need to show you this thing I want to put on your suit, Y/N can you please check the new computer I promised you?”

“Oh my, it’s ready?” She said turning to them, suddenly feeling a lot better.

“It’s on the corner right there, just feel free to explore it and adapt it to how you like it best, and then it’s yours” Peter said with a bright smile on his features as he dragged Raul away.

Y/N sat down on the desk he pouted at, opening the super resistant protective case and being faced with a beautiful tiny computer she could use on future missions. She finished her coffee, feeling the medicine kick in as she dumped the empty cup on the trash, before sitting down in front of her new screen and starting to work on it. Y/N lost track of time as she explored the new configurations, installed the programs she used. She only noticed she’s been there for over two hours when she felt someone carefully placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and she looked up to check the time, being met with Raul standing right beside her.

“Oh, hi” she said feeling her face warming up as he smiled softly at her.

“Don’t spend too much time with this, you’ll have more opportunities later, sweetheart, don’t force yourself too much” he squeezed her shoulder a bit and she sighed nodding “how are you feeling?”

She looked up at him, cracking her back on the process “Better, I think the coffee helps a bit and the painkiller did a great job”

“Good, I’m guessing you still won’t be able to make it to Shawn’s crowded and noisy lunch” Raul had a little amused look in his eyes and Y/N giggled at that, shaking her head.

“Definitely not, might as well skip lunch and nap on my lunch break”

Raul nodded “It’s tempting but you need food, now how about I take you to that salad shop you like, we buy ourselves a quick to go one, eat it at your office and nao for like, forty minutes maybe? How does that sound?”

Y/N contained the urge to lunch forward and wrap him in her arms “Pretty fucking great, but what about Shawn?”

“I’ll meet him later for dinner with Peter, so he wouldn’t mind”

“Oh”

“So, are you in, doll?”

Y/N shook her head “you had me in the forty minute nap, say no more”

Raul laughed “Of course I had, know you better than anyone”

“That is unfortunately true” she mumbled grabbing the computer and getting up.

Raul stared at her quizzically “Why is that unfortunate?”

“Cause that will only feed your ever growing ego”

“You wound me, sweetheart” he said with frightened hurt, a hand clutched over his heart.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him as they both said their goodbyes to Peter, who only threw a knowing look in her direction and a little wink when Raul wasn’t looking. She only rolled her eyes, shoving her middle finger in the air behind Raul’s back to Peter, who only laughed in response. But Raul might have felt her arm hovering his back, cause he looked down at her, throwing his charming smile down at her and throwing his arm around her shoulders as the climbed in the elevator again.

Oh great, now Y/N had one more thing to keep her awake all night, wondering if she was crazy and Raul could be somehow interested in her and if she should do something about it. But do what? Tell him she liked him? Kissing him? Confronting someone who already has a hard time talking feelings about how he felt about her?! Only terrible scenarios played in her head with every little thing she thought about. But before she could go on spiraling, Raul gently squeezed her shoulder making Y/N look up at him.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he asked smirking at her and she only huffed rolling her eyes, making Raul full on laugh.

-*-

Later that morning, they ended up following Raul’s idea. Around noon he knocked on her office again, with his leather jacket and ready to go, Y/N then just grabbed her coat and purse, ready to follow him to the elevator again. They kept a light banter, talking about conspiracy theories and random gossip, and she felt really better but was too tired to socialize with a lot of people. So they walked down the street a couple of blocks to a little shop where they bought salad bowls and iced tea “to balance things out” according to Raul about how much coffee she’s had the past week.

They ordered to go and walked back to the HQ that looked like a very fancy business building, but instead of going back to her office, they headed to Raul’s instead. There they sat down on his couch since it was bigger as they casually had lunch, and right after, he convinced Y/N to get comfortable on the couch as he relaxed right next to her. Y/N curled into a little ball on the further corner of the couch, but he was quick to tut his tongue at her.

“Here, sweetheart, you can lay your head on my lap and stretch your legs on the couch, yeah? And you can grab that little fluffy blanket if you want” He was quick to offer and Y/N sighed.

“Are you sure?” she asked eyeing him suspiciously “I don’t want to bother you” he chuckled softly and nodded

“Of course, we still have 50 minutes of lunch break, nap a bit, baby, come here” Raul said in such a gentle tone, almost cooing at her and how could she possibly say no to that?

She removed her boots before laying her head on his lap and pulling her legs to stretch across the rest of the couch, while she got comfy, she felt the gentle weight of the thick fluffy blanket being laid on top of her. Y/N sighed in relief as she slowly closed her eyes, allowing herself to fully relax, and feeling the soft caress of Raul’s fingers gently combing through her hair was only making it easier to fall asleep. And so she did.

She dreamed of something random, she was stuck in a boat and it didn’t really make much sense, but it was better than the sleepless nights or the scary things her mind came up with. So waking up was not the best sensation, but Raul managed to make the experience less unpleasant. He was very softly coaxing her to wake up, by gently shaking her shoulder and caressing her cheek, slowly calling her name. Y/N could get used to it.

Raul truly didn’t want to do it, he, himself, didn’t want to get up. He ended up falling asleep a few minutes in, but the timer on his phone vibrating on his hand woke him when he promised he’d wake her up. He almost didn’t have the heart to do it. Y/N looked so peaceful, the frown that’s been on her brows for the whole week was finally gone, but he knew if he didn’t wake her, she’d spend her day blaming herself and wouldn’t be able to sleep properly at night. So he cleared his throat and started calling her gently not to startle her.

Y/N started coming slowly back to her senses, slowly sitting up from Raul’s lap, rubbing at her eyes and checking her phone quickly for important notifications. A low chuckle brought her attention away from her phone and to her best friend beside her, to which she just truly looked at, being able to notice the throw pillow creases on his cheek, the soft curls of his hair a bit messier than usual.

“Hi” he mumbled softly.

Y/N smiled at him before mumbling a “hi” in response.

“Sleep well?” Raul asked as he stretched his arms above his head and she nodded “yeah? I ended up joining you in your nap”

“Don’t blame you, this is a really nice couch”

“Right? Unfortunately this was the first time I took full advantage of it” he chuckled as he got up from the couch, moving to turn on his computer.

Y/N just chuckled before nearly folding his blanket back in its place “well thank you for everything, you truly are a great friend, but I should probably leave and stop bothering you”

“You never bother me, and I know, I’m the best friend anyone could ever wish for” he said sitting on his chair as she leaned down to put her shoes back on.

She just rolled her eyes at him, grabbing her stuff before getting up “there you go, ruining a perfectly sweet moment”

Raul laughed “that’s my biggest ability, doll, thought you knew that already”

“Should’ve guessed it” Y/N said as she opened his door “see you later, thanks again”

Raul just winked at her “anytime” before she closed his door and moved to her office shaking her head, but unable to hold back the smile from blossoming on her lips.

Maybe Peter was wrong and just messing things up, how could he not notice the way Raul affected her? But saw the way he was different with her? It made no sense. And there was no time to go into the rabbit hole, she had better things to do, like spend countless hours uselessly trying to crack a code.

-*-

In the middle of Y/N’s afternoon shift, she was able to spot Geonoff himself on one of the surveillance cameras she’s been watching incessantly for the past weeks. She basically tripped on her on shoes as she scrambled up to her computer to register the appearance, quickly sending it to her boss. They finally were sure where he was and maybe that was enough to set up a plan or something to get him.

Geonoff Reyes was one of the most wanted man right now by intelligences from multiple countries. The man himself had a long list of crimes, that if there was an opportunity would be enough to sentence him for thousands of years. Most of Geonoff’s crimes were related to the mafia, he was one of the biggest and most dangerous bosses there was. He started fairly young, around 15 years old, but that was the extent of information everyone had on his childhood. Some liked to guess it was what kind of household he was raised to blame the way he had become what he became.

He’s been chased for years now, and that’s why Y/N was quick to let her boss, Mrs. Benson, know she found him, compiling all the information she was able to gather this past week in files. So she did what she could and it took her around an hour to have everything printed and organized in a folder, letting Janet she was coming and basically running to the elevator to get to her office.

The heavy metal doors opened on the waiting room outside of her office, being met with Luca, Janet’s personal assistant, who winked at her and pointed at the door. Y/N smiled at him and knocked on the dark wooden doors, opening it silently as she heard people talking inside. Her office was decorated very minimalistic and was usually a very pristine place, but today, there were papers everywhere as Janet, Helen (Janet’s right hand), Dimitri (head of security department) and Raul Mendes stood there apparently discussing the same case.

“Thank God you’re here, darling, please come out this madness to an end” Janet said with a gentle smile as she pointed towards the mess in her table.

Helen chuckled as Dimitri was quick to push their papers to a corner on the table.

“Thank you” Y/N mumbled as she placed her folder down.

Raul silently move to stand right next to her, a careful hand laying on the small of her back in a comforting touch as she looked up at Janet to check if she could start. With a nod from the boss, she started pulling all the evidence she could. All the pictures, the surveillance images, the documents Seth was able to bring back and information he was able to remember as well.

With everything laid out on the table and presented to all of them, Janet ended up telling what she’d been discussing with Helen for the past two days. They both figured the best thing to do at the moment, since they didn’t have enough evidence to make an arrest for this crime and maybe this was a great opportunity to catch another people involved, not only Geonoff. The plan was basically getting new identities and keep a close eye on all of his activities, track down his moves and if possible get even more evidence.

Raul was called because he was the best for this kind of jobs and would be a great leader to the team, Y/N was offered to join the team as well, being his partner and leading the strategic part of the plan. They were also told to pick other agents that they knew would be great for this specific operation, Janet only asking to keep it at a maximum of 5 people including them, the less people knowing, the better.

Of course both agreed and were also instructed to inform Peter so he could separate the gadgets necessary, and obviously intensify their physical training. Despite this being mostly and observant kind of mission, Geonoff was unpredictable and highly dangerous, so being well prepared and extra careful wouldn’t be a bad idea. They were both dismissed for the day and the early shift next morning, so they could rest and plan it as best as they could.

So Y/N was quick to bid her goodbyes as she placed everything neatly back on the folder and moved out of the room. As soon as she pressed the button to call the elevator, she heard the office door opening and closing again, rushed steps moving closer to her. She didn’t even need to look to know Raul was the one approaching her since his scent clouded every room he ever stepped into, she only shook her head and looked up at her right as he stood right beside her. He smirked at her with a little wink.

“My house or yours, doll?” he asked as they climbed into the elevator.

“Tonight?” she eyed him suspiciously as she pressed the button to her floor to grab her stuff and he leaned in to press the one to Peter’s. Y/N glanced at him and noticed he had all of his personal belongings with him.

“Of course, I’ll even order from that Thai place you like”

Y/N giggled shaking her head “of course you will, am I supposed to spend the night?”

“Oh yeah, definitely, I’ll invite Peter too” he said with a smile.

Y/N folded her arms across her chest “I thought we were supposed to rest?”

“Oh but we will, I’ll make sure you’ll fall sleep at reasonable hours, eat properly and all that stuff, of course we’re gonna take a look at work, but just a little” he said with a knowing look.

“Fine, daddy” she added with annoyance, rolling her eyes, Raul just laughed and shook his head.

“You can’t just say stuff like that, sweetheart”

“What? Does it do something for you?” She asked looking up at him and he just shrugged as the doors opened at her floor.

“There’s only one way to find out, doll” he added with a smirk, a teasing tone evident on his voice as he leaned the weight of his body on the elevator doors to hold it for her, shoulders crossed over his broad chest, biceps flexing against the material of his shirt.

Y/N rolled her eyes stepping out of the elevator, ignoring the heat creeping up her face and the stupid flutter on her lower stomach, turning to face him as she said “see you later, Mendes”

“See you, and oh, don’t forget your gym attire, we’re going running at 5:30 sharp tomorrow, bye bye now” he blew her a kiss as he stepped inside and the doors closed before she could add anything.

He was definitely trying to kill her in all the ways possible, she just didn’t know which way would be the fatal blow.

-*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

@mariamuses

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lazyneonrabbitt · 3 years

Text

Night shifts.

Daryl Dixon x Reader Werewolf AU

You are new to the prison and Rick takes you on your first night watch shift. When something catches your eye he sends you after it. When you wake up the next morning you discover things you would have never guessed were real.

Running from walkers was not how you wanted to spend your first week alone after months of being with a group and to be fair, you were done. You were close to passing out from dehydration when you made it out of the forest lines and onto a highway, spotting a gas station to hole up in only a minute away. running in and barricading the door with your last bit of energy, you passed out almost immediately after.

"Hey, we're here!" Glenn called out to Maggie when they passed the treelines and went onto the highway where Rick had sent them. "That old place? Are you sure there's stuff left in there?" Maggie wasn't sure about it all but at least there weren't any walkers around it it'd be easy to check out and be gone without wasting too much time. They tried the main doors but they wouldn't budge, like they were locked down from the inside so they went around to check for another entrance. With a little effort they managed to take down the door in the back and went in to scope out the place and listening in for any walkers and finding none. They felt relieved when there wasn't a fight to prepare for and started digging through what was left of the supplies in the back room, making their way to the front, towards the blocked front exit. As they expected they found nothing useful in the small gas station, but when they rounded past the last supply rack they found something they weren't expecting.

"You think she's alive?" Glenn wondered, slowly stepping forward to check for any injuries but found none. "I don't know, doesn't look like she's turning so I guess not." Maggie replied as Glenn was already close enough to shake her. As he did so, she jolted awake and unsure of anything that was going on. Maggie had her gun readied at her side and Glenn moved back to a safe distance. "What the hell?" Was all you could groggily manage to speak. The two of them asked you a few questions that you barely managed to answer and were given some water when you regained enough consciousness to move at least somewhat well again. Thanking them you asked why they were here and they explained they were just looking for supplies and the place seemed to be abandoned. "We could ask you the same, though." Glenn chimed in. You told them your story of being alone and running from walkers for a while before eventually ending up here and passing out, how you hadn't eaten anything all day and drank your last bit of water this morning.

When they finished clearing the place, Glenn and Maggie agreed to take you with them to the prison where their group lived. On the way there, which took longer than their way to the gas station, seeing what state you were in, they mostly kept quiet about their current living environment even with you asking questions every now and then. It was close to nightfall when you all arrived at the prison and you were stopped by a man in a sheriff's hat. Immediately on you and not letting you take another step onto the property after answering his questions. He sat you down and talked to Maggie and see what info she had on you ans so she repeated everything you had told her, getting approving nods from Glenn who was keeping an eye on you while also reassuring you Rick was less scary than he currently came off as.

After all the talking you were allowed to stay under constant surveillance. This only lasted a week, after which you were allowed to roam around on your own and were set on shared watch with Rick so he could teach you all their ways in case walkers would breach the fence. During the early hours of the night nothing much happened and you had to admit the view of the forest edge looked nice under the moonlight. From time to time you heard a walker rustling through nearby bushes but Rick reassured you to was nothing to worry about until they would start to pile up on the fence. After a long stretch of silence you saw something run across the field and you shoved Rick's shoulder to make sure he'd see it as well. The moment he looked it ran out of sight towards the other side of the building before emerging on the other end again after a short moment. This time Rick saw it as well and sent you towards the fences to go check it out. You ran from the watch tower towards the edge to check out whatever it was that you saw but you couldn't get a clear look at it so after a minute of walking back and forth across fence you decided to go through them, you were armed after all.

The thing was near the treeline and wandering around, seemingly not noticing you watching it. When it ran off you were so intrigued that you followed it out into the woods, not giving a single thought to what you were even following or all the other dangers out there. you followed the thing for a while, getting a better look at it and seeing it resembled a large dog of some sort. Honestly it only reminded you of your favorite monster movies you always watched back in the day, but that was all just suits and CGI. You loved those movies, zombie movies were cool as well until you suddenly all started living in one of course. But that was different, right?? No way other monsters were real as well. you weren't gonna run into a group of murderous vampires living as cannibals, but this creature in front of you did look an awful lot like a werewolf, and not even a small one. while it was hunched over and on all-fours it still reached almost to your shoulders.

You were so deep in thought that you didn't watch your step and tripped over a branch, causing the creature to jump up and tread towards you. As you got up you couldn't take your eyes off it, afraid it would jump you so you backed up until you hit a tree. You were stuck between a large tree with no branches to climb onto, and a huge, murderous, and now that you saw it up close, clearly werewolf.It snarled at you, getting closer to sniff the air and snapping its teeth at you only an inch away from your face.This was gonna end bad.

Back at the prison, Rick was slapped across the shoulder by Maggie. "Did you really just sent the new girl after him? Are you insane?" She whisper-yelled at him. She had been awake and saw you run into the woods after he had snuck out. "Trust me, if you saw how he's always starin' at her, you'd do the same thing. He's not gonna hurt her." The two of them discussed their views for a while with Maggie being totally against the whole idea and Rick feeling like he did a great job. "Come on, Maggie. There's no way he's gonna do anything to her. He's been staring at her like a lovesick puppy ever since they first talked." Rick tried to convince her again. "And you have to admit that she tries her hardest to be around him and actually gets along with him pretty well." He was right, Maggie had talked with her from time to time and it was clear that she liked being around him. Whenever she didn't have any tasks for the day she'd always tag along on hunts with him and she'd be the first one at the gate when he would return from an early morning run to see if he needed to be stitched up. "Fine, I'll give ya this round. But if she gets hurt, you are the one who tells everyone what happened." She jabbed her finger at Rick's chest to make her point that much more clear and returned to watch the horizon for any movement.

Both stared into the distance in peace until they caught movement out in the field. "See? Told you I was right!" Rick called out while Maggie grabbed a pair of binoculars to get a closer look. "That's not a deer in his mouth, Rick." She spoke softly as she shoved the binoculars into his chest, urging him to take a look. It was indeed him who was walking back onto the property, probably on his way to his usual hideout. He followed his steps and tried to focus on what he was carrying that according to Maggie wasn't a deer. "Oh shit." He let out as he lowered the item and rushed off the stairs towards the abandoned back of the building. When he rounded the last corner he had almost caught un with them and saw him now carefully placing you down in the emptied shed, on top of the cloths they had put there for when he'd turn back. The pile of clothes neatly folded next to the door. He deemed the situation as safe and left back to the guard tower to finish his shift.

You woke up before the sun started coming up and were shocked to find out you weren't in the woods anymore. Truth be told you couldn't remember what happened. The creature snapped at you, looking like it was ready to chow down on you and then everything went black. Taking in your surroundings you learned you were in some kind of shed, you were on a pile of fabric and there was a pile of clothes, illuminated by the moonlight near the open entrance. Trying to get up you learned that it wasn't a heavy blanket that was on you, but an extended arm draped over your waist coming from behind you. You quietly wiggled out from underneath the arm and went to investigate. Your first move was to go outside and look where you were. You were at the prison, but on a side of the building you had never been before. After being sure you were at least somewhat safer than you expected you went back inside, passing the pile of clothes again and decided to take a look. There was a pair of boots, a larger size so you assumed they were a guy's, together with some torn and patched up jeans and a shirt with sleeves torn at different lengths. Taking away at the pile one piece at a time, you found something that you immediately recognised. "Daryl?" You said out loud upon seeing his winged leather vest. A low growl came from behind you. You had been so focused on the clothes that you hadn't realised you might had woken up the slumbering beast.

You got up and ran without thinking of it and ended up cornered within seconds, Daryl's vest still clasped tightly to your chest. Eyes wide, you couldn't cast your gaze away from the creature in front of you. Now, on its hindlegs you were able to fully take in it's size. You were even more terrified than before in the forest, this time there was really no way out. You dropped to your knees, hugging the vest of your dear friend closely and cried, begging for someone to hear you and come save you but no sound other than sobs left you. You saw the light shift in your vision and carefully looked up, seeing that your cabin partner had now sat down and was staring at you. Blue eyes staring right into yours before getting back up and crawling underneath the pile of blankets in the corner, completely covering itself except for its tail poking from underneath it all. Every time you tried to take a step closer you were growled at, louder each time until you gave up and sat back down in the furthest corner. Eyes trained on the pile, you saw every small movement that happened and every breath the beast took. Its breathing became heavier and now started to get louder and snarls and growls would come out more and more until another sound broke your concentration and had you jump up a little. It sounded like a bone snapping in half, joined with other nasty snapping and tearing sounds. The pile moved but you couldn't make out what was going on as you covered your ears, trying to block out the gruesome noises until everything stopped moving and the shape beneath the piles had shrunk to half its size. All you heard now was breathing like someone had just ran from a herd of walkers. While everything seemed safe, you were too afraid to move from your spot so you stayed. Sitting there with Daryl's vest still in your hands you waited for the sun to come up and go find your group again. You companion's breathing had evened out and you assumed they'd fallen asleep again. Gathering all your courage you creeped closer to the pile and took in its shape, making out the shape of a person and carefully taking the first blanket away, sadly not revealing anything. The next one only uncovered an arm, lazily thrown over what you assumed was a head still covered in blankets. You sat there contemplating your next move. Were you going to take away another layer or were you gonna leave this one alone and let them wake up in peace?

Yeah, you were seeing who it was that terrorised you throughout the entire night. Taking a deep breath you took the edge of the next fabric and carefully lifted it, but before you could get a look your wrist was grabbed tightly and you were thrown on your back with whoever it was over you, snarling and ready to attack. You let out a surprised yelp as you were thrown down. At least now you could get a good look at who it was, and it wasn't who you expected to see. "Daryl?" You sighed, on one hand relieved he wasn't killed like you thought before when you found his vest. On the other hand completely out of it now that you figured out his probably biggest secret. Did others know about this place? Did they know about him and weren't they afraid?

Keeping your eyes on his you had to try your hardest not to let them wander off when you remembered he was in fact still very naked. "Please," You quietly pleaded. "get dressed.." You mumbled as you covered your eyes with your free arm, making sure you wouldn't see anything and trying to make him feel maybe less uncomfortable.He grumbled something you couldn't make out before you felt him move off you and heard rustling of clothes. "Where's mah vest?" You heard him ask and moved a bit only to feel it underneath you. Sitting up you slowly moved your arm away from your face and relaxed when you saw Daryl was dressed enough to be less distracting at least. When you were about to get up to hand him his vest, he'd walked across the shed and sat down in front of you like he did earlier tonight before he has changed back. "M'sorry." It wasn't much but it was enough for now.

You handed him his vest and stayed quiet for the most part. Not knowing what to say and what could set him off like when you woke him up scared you enough to not talk to him at all except for answering his questions or comments. It took a while for the two of you to get comfortable around each other enough to go out on a morning hunt but after words could be exchanged well enough to make a plan you were good to go. You left through Daryl's secret way out and started tracking a deer that had walked close to the forest's edge. Closing in on it you came across the spot where he had you cornered and almost attacked you, causing you to stop in your tracks and freeze up all of a sudden. The area was nothing special, just a small spot with no low bushes and some large trees. The thing that set you off were the claw marks that were now as clear as day on a lot of the surrounding trees, showing just how much strength was behind those claws. You didn't hear Daryl call for you and you didn't realise he had taken down the deer by now without much of your help in the end. "Hey," He called again, not getting a reply and put a hand on your shoulder causing you to jump. "Ya alright there?" He looked concerned at first, but there was something else underneath. You shook your head to get out of your daze. "Yeah I'm good. Sorry." You apologised without really knowing what there was to apologise for. You didn't even realise you had frozen that bad. Daryl looked around him and only now really connected the dots. He let out a sigh as he walked over to you, showing you his hand. "S'normal again now. See?" He held his hand up, turning it so you could get a good look. "I aint hurtin' ya." It was more than just a statement to him. This was a promise he was going to keep no matter what would happen from now on. You accepted his words and agreed to move back to the prison with your freshly hunted deer.

After you both finished your morning routines, Daryl walked over to your cell, asking you to follow him outside. The two of you walked back to the shed behind the building and sat down to talk properly this time. It wasn't that you were scared anyone, it was more of an anxious 'what if' feeling that kept gnawing at your thoughts. How were you gonna be sure he wouldn't get angry at a wrong question or what if you couldn't agree with something he insisted was right? "Hey," was all he said to get you out of your thoughts again. "Yer almost panicking here. Ya still scared of me." It wasn't a question but more of a statement and truth be told, he was right after all. You were scared of your friend and you had no idea how to change that. You didn't want to be but the feeling was still there, it kept eating at you that there was a chance that you'd do something wrong enough for him to snap. Being unable to stop those thoughts, the tears joined rapidly after. You didn't know what t say or how to even stop crying but you knew that letting out the emotions was a good way to show that you had no clue how to handle all of this and needed the help. Daryl wasn't sure what exactly to do but he knew that touching you wasn't going to help. He had brought his pack and dug around for some leftovers that he didn't finish before turning last night and offered what he found. You accepted the food and kept in in your lap, being unable to eat anything while you were still crying. You mumbled a thankyou and moved over to Daryl, dropping yourself onto him and letting him know you were okay with him getting closer and you weren't afraid of him touching you when he wasn't angry. Daryl was surprised with this turn of events, it was a turn for the better at least. "Can ya tell me what's up? Cus' this shows ya ain't scared of this me at least." He didn't want to pry but he had to get at least something out of you now that you had some privacy. You were still softly sobbing but it had gotten less already. Taking deep breaths helped to calm down, and having Daryl's arms around you now in a protective manner was really getting rid of most of your fear. "You scared me last night." This was the first time Daryl had to go through something like this. Yes, he had to tell others in the group about his issue and it ended in Rick almost shooting him during a full moon before Daryl saved his life, and Carol hadn't spoken to him for days after she saw him turned but she came to his cell on her own to apologise and accept him for what he was. He also hadn't attacked either of them. Not that he really touched you, but he scared you enough for you to pass out, and again afterwards in the shed enough to make you cry almost twice.

"I ain't hurtin' ya, ever." He said again, hoping to convince both you and himself because truthfully he had no idea if he was ever going to hurt her if he wasn't in control."I like you. This is all new." Small sentences were your way to go for now and Daryl accepted that immediately. He nodded and hummed in approval of your confession, hugging you a bit closer and moving to sit more comfortable. "I like ya too. Tha's why ya ended up in that shed." You let out a huff of laughter at that, making it sound like he had some other plans if you hadn't passed out. "Ya I was gonna tell ya all this, but now ya saw everythin' already.." He wanted to talk, but he had no clue where to go at all, nothing that he wanted to say felt like the right words so he opted for a question. "Wha'cha think of all this?" He motioned at the shed and the cleared off area and himself as well, hoping that your answer would spark some more conversation and solutions.

Sighing, you thought hard about your words. Some things popped into your head and before you could lose your thought again you spoke. "I'm good with it. You're good and you're you and you kept me safe, you know." He did know. He knew he kept you safe last night, but the words that hit him the hardest were the ones no one had told him before. He was still him, even if he looked different or had a second nature that could be dangerous, he was still him. "Thanks for tha', girlie." You were regaining your smile and laughed. "Yeah, my friend's a dog. what's your story huh." You joked laughing out loud. It was a sound Daryl had heard before when you and Carol were on tasks together and laugher would fill the prison hall. He couldn't get enough of it.

"So, yer okay with bein' here with me? Gotta admit ya kept me calm last night." He now wasn't looking at you but at the ground and you were sure you could see a small blush creep up on his face. "Daryl," You turned in his lap so you could look at his face properly. You took his face in your hands to make sure he wasn't going to look away. "I'll stay with you for as long as you need." You made your statement as clear as you could possibly make it, hoping he'd understand everything behind those words. "Hell, I'm just gonna say this now before I lose the courage.." You took a last deep breath and just went for it. "I've kinda wanted to ask you if you'd want me as your girlfriend, but all of this happened before I got a chance to but you have to know I still want that, even after learning all of this."

Now it was Daryl's turn to laugh happily and pull you close to him, nuzzling your cheek and accepting your request with more glee than you had ever seen on him. "I love ya." He admitted finally, kissing your cheek to not overstep his boundaries in true Daryl fashion.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd #twd x reader #twd imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead x reader #twd daryl #imagine #x reader #twd fanfiction #fanfic #sometimes I write

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caandlelit · 3 years

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Tokoyami takes full advantage of the darker parts of his quirk when he threatens you. You feel trapped in an eternal darkness, like the air was being stolen out of your lungs. He speaks simply, but full of venom. He's shrouded by this aura of calm vexation. He feels toxic to even be around and his apparent apathy makes it more scary. He feels no guilt when he's reached that point. He's one of the slowest to get angry, and when he does, there's no stopping him. You'd never been scared of the dark until that day.

Momo says how she can buy everything you own. How she could take everything that gives you happiness until you're a shell of what you once were. How she has connections, and could ruin your life with a simple phone call. She radiates pure, controlled rage and you want to get away as fast as possible. You feel as if you're going to die at any moment and from that day forward you'll always look over your shoulder, too scared to sleep.

Uraraka is right next to Shoto in scary, and beside Izuku in surprising. She threatens in smiles. Her usual cheery attitude and excitement don't fade as she happily tells you how she'll make your life a living hell. She laughs as she says how she'll make you watch everyone you care about die before you, knowing you could have avoided it. She doesn't raise her hand, but she leaves you trembling and wetting your pants. You'll have nightmares. Sounds like Toga? It's because they're girlfriends.

Shoto is incredibly blunt with his threats. He somehow corners you alone, and calmly tells you how he could kill you, make it look like an accident, get rid of the body, and get away with it. In excruciating detail. He'll leave you sacred for your life, and regretting the day you got on his bad side.

Tsu will stare into the depths or your soul, daring you to piss her off. Being incredibly blunt, she will, just to make sure you get the message, just walk up to you and threaten to slit your throat or something.

Izuku has, after the first year, gotten into the habit of outright threatening pro heroes. It's blackmail more times than not, he has the info to ruin them. It started with Endeavor, then slowly All Might, after he got sick of beings pushed too hard, and extended until all pro heroes that weren't Aizawa, Present Mic, or Fatgum were doing his bidding.

Tenya regularly subtly threatens to call Japanese CPS on Endeavor to knock him down some rankings on the hero list. Nothing he can be charged with, and nothing that anyone out of 1A can trace back to him, but threats to keep him in-line. Have to make him know his place every now and then.

Izuku and Shoto would be the heroes parents want their kids to look up to. Momo and Mina would be the heroes parents want their female kids to look up to, specifically.

You know how 1A all want to be like All Might (mostly)? When they find out what being a 'Symbol Of Peace' really entails, I don't think they'd want to be on anymore. So they'd become beacons of hope, with Izuku shining the brightest out of all of them.

I know they don't technically have to live together if they're all part of one big hero agency. But like. It would be so fun if they did. And with the local rich kids (Momo, Tenya and Shoto), God knows it's gonna be some big-ass mansion. And it'd be sort of a throwback of sorts to the dorms. And I feel as if they'd the be glad for that familiarity, with how much change is occurring. And also, Bakugo and Monoma under the same roof would be fucking hilarious.

I want to see Shoto deck a fellow UA student for saying the wrong thing. Like maybe they'd say "Bakugo acts like a such a villain, no wonder everyone is scared of him." And Shoto would just look around to see Ochaco holding Izuku back with identical looks of rage on their faces. He'd see Bakugo looking down at his feet, trying his best to look unbothered, but his frown is more sad than his usual one. He'd see the Bakusquad trying to convince him it's not true. He'd see Tsu with her fist clenched, and Tenya glaring daggers at the person, and just deck the guy. Incases his fist in ice, to make the blow harder. Kick him a few times too. And would look up at their shocked faces and shrug, "No one fucks with my family. And Bakugo? He's family. All of you are." Deku just starts bawling there and then.

There's no UA traitor, and they just forgot to remove Touya from the family group chat.

After Monoma realizes that no one stops Bakugo from coming after him when he says dumb shit, learns to control his mouth by their first year of working/living together. Interviewers would ask him, "How do you manage with number 2 (tied with Shoto) pro hero DynaMite trying to 'kill you the time?" And Monoma would just answer, with deep tiredness in his voice "Speed, self control, and not sleeping."

HC that Uraraka's quirk isn't zero gravity. It's gravity manipulation, so zero gravity is just a subsection of that. Her quirk exceeds the rules of zero gravity, and it's plausible that because she didn't have much money growing up, she wasn't able to get it properly tested, which should have been free, but we've established hero society is fucked up. This means, essentially, that she should be able to create a black hole. It'd take a lot of training, and a crap ton of effort, and she'd never do it, but she could.

The heroes should be glad 1A (Shinsou and Izuku especially) are good people. Because they could ruin them. They could take down hero society by themselves, and they all have been given reason too! They're just good people, and the heroes should appreciate that. Because the moment they stop being good people? It's all over.

HC that Aoyama is one of those kids that has known he was gay since birth, and never had to come out because people just knew.

Just realized something, feeling sad so you must too. Shigaraki could have been Touya's Izuku in another world. In a less fucked up universe, they could've been friends. Shigaraki- Tenko could have saved him.

Monoma is trying to start an enemies to lovers with all of 1A, Shinsou included. He obviously knows nothing about social interactions, maybe the poor boy is just trying to flirt the only way he knows how: being a prick.

In the Combined Hero Agency, fans and other heroes wonder how Mei keeps up. She's the only support hero, makes (though her interns help) and designs hero costumes AND support items for everyone in the agency, while also making them for her interns when asked, AND has time to participate in family game night every other week.

She really has no secret, just a love for what she does, hard work, dedication plus a lot of time and patience. That doesn't mean she doesn't endorse the rumors she has some secondary quirk or something, she actually enjoys fuelling the fire and watching it unfold. Fucking with the media is her favorite pastime.

At some point, Class 1A convinced Shinsou to make Endeavor to say "I'm a giant piece of shit" live on TV. And that was only after they swore up and down that he wouldn't be kicked out of the hero course, and promised to take the fall if anything goes wrong. The worst thing that happened was All Might trying to say what he did was wrong but he was told to fuck off.

The boys in class 1A like lending their jackets/sweaters/hoodies/jumpers to the girls. And the girls don't return them a lot, and only Mei, who feels bad if she keeps them, returns them, surprising the boys. You leave yours in the common room, don't expect it to be there in 30 minutes. And it didn't stop there. The boys also take each others' cover-ups (Shoto started this by asking to borrow Tokoyami's), and take the girls'. They find them comfortable and soft, and they nice-smelling. Basically everyone's wardrobes (private stuff is kept separately) is up for grabs by second year.

1A and (most of) 1B (+ Mei) are just like so, physical affectionate with each other. So much that even when they're pro heroes, the media isn't sure which relationships are which. Even when they clarify, they don't do anything to stop the rumors and even revel in it, fuelling them from time to time. Like, Ochaco would show up to an interview wearing Izuku's gloves, and the next she'll be in Tokoyami's sweater. Not to mention that her and Tsu are dating a (former) VILLAIN.

What if Momo like, buys a house. But not just a house. Like when they're still UA students, she buy a house for all her friends that don't want to go home over the holidays/weekends. It's (surprisingly) a lot of them.

Katsuki because he doesn't want to get yelled at after almost dying a crap ton. Denki because his parents will be mad about his grades, and he's trying, but it's so hard, and he can't focus. Ashido because she gets made fun of back home for her looks. Shoto because Enji. Tenya because he wants some time away from the pressure of his family to "live up to the Ingenium name", and don't get him wrong, he wants to be the new Ingenium, but he also when he just wants to be Tenya for a bit. Ochaco because she's tired, and wants a break. She loves her parents, but it's so much stress. Tsu because she'd rather be with her friends. Shinsou because he doesn't have a home. And much, much, more.

I think Dabi would've turned out more like Shoto if he had an Izuku. They were incredibly similar, in mentality and around the same backgrounds. The main difference is that Shoto has people to support him now, Dabi didn't. If Dabi had someone like Izuku to help him, help break down his walls, to make him feel validated, and seen (which, as I stan Shiggy and Izuku being siblings because AFO, could have been Tenko in a different world) he wouldn't be a villain.

Kids that are worried that they'd lose their friends when they become heroes would be So happy too. Like "I want to become a hero, but what if my friends and I lose touch? I don't wanna leave them behind, even if we're pros!" While they'd just be there like "we've been with each other since high school bro. they don't have to go nowhere lol"

HC that their fans would start to believe God is a woman, because Momo.

And like, they would be regular visitors at schools and orphanages. None of them ever got to be kids, and very few of them had good experiences with school, so they would want to inspire more kids. That they can become heroes, too. They'd definitely keep all the gifts they got, plus Momo and Izuku seem like the type to pin up every drawing they get from their kid fans in their offices, no matter how good/bad. It'd be good morale, and the kids of the next generation of heroes would have perfect role models to look up to.

It'd be cute if 1A didn't go on to start their own hero agencies. I mean, they'd have to figure something out with Tenya and Shoto, but I feel as if they would go on to make one, big hero agency instead. They have the perfect selection of quirks and personalities, from rescue heroes to support ones! With a bit of help from their friends, of course. (Yes, Mei is included. I love her too much not too)

Sero and Denki seem like the type to get (platonically) married, though Sero is aroace (personal HC) and Denki is dating Shinsou. No one even blinks an eye anymore, too used to their BS.

I HC that Shoto was previously very closed off with his siblings, even after he was allowed to spend time with them. I want to see, after spending time with 1A, him open up. Slight things at first, like offering to go for a run with Natsuo, or giving Fuyumi a kiss on the cheek, to going to amusement parks with Natsuo, and talking about his day and friends with Fuyumi. They not sure what caused this change at first. But then they meet Izuku, and the rest of the IzuCrew, and 1A, and suddenly it all makes sense, and God do they love these kids.

I want to see 1A actively antagonize Endeavor, but only when there's no one that would tell around. Like, anything they can get away with legally, and somethings they can't, but they make sure to not get caught. Natsuo loves it.

I have this HC that around the middle of the year, 1A just gave up on sleeping separately, or the "everyone sleep in your room" rule. After the horrific bullshit they'd been through together, they figured out that sleeping in the same room as each other helped the (inevitable) night terrors that came. And setting a time that everyone should be in their rooms was disastrous. So now it's common to see Shoto or Izuku in Tenya's room, or Mina and Kirishima in Bakugo's, or some nights they all just sleep in whoever has the most space at the time.

I want to see 1A when they're in 2A move into the dorms again. Like, Enji would go "Shoto I don't want you in the dorms this year." And Shoto, who's been waiting to go back since the dorms closed and has already packed all his shit goes ". . . You've gotta be shitting me, old man. I'm gonna go see my friends, who I value more than you. Fuck you." Then freeze him, grab his bags and run to the spot where the rest of the class agreed to meet, to get food then got to the dorms.

Shoto is constantly being used as the class portable heater, and has learnt to accept it, not without making the occasional "I went through years of abuse and trauma for this" comment though

Hatsume and Izuku should be friends. I feel like they'd understand each other. The others try, but they're the only ones who can keep up with how fast each other's brains go.

I want to see 1A visit Rei in the hospital. It started as Shoto introducing his friends to his mom, but they grew fond of her, and now visit her regularly to talk, and update her on what's going on with like Shoto, or school

Imagine if there was no UA traitor, and they just forgot to remove Touya from the family group chat.

Rei should be introduced to Izuku as "my best friend", Tenya as "the friend who stops me from doing bad things", and Kastuki as "my other best friend, though he denies it". Shoto with his lack of social skills would just go "Oh Bakugo? We're friends. He's like that with everyone."

Rei doesn't need to know about the murder, what she doesn't know can't hurt her. And whenever Shoto tries to mention it to her, Tenya just slaps his hand on his mouth to shut him up, or nudges him aggressively until he (after a long time) gets the message .

After a while, when Izuku is asked what hero he wants to be like, he responds All Might. Why wouldn't he? All Might is bold, courageous, strong, and always saves people with a smile. The perfect hero.

But in his mind, he only has one true answer. Eraserhead. Mr. Aizawa is the perfect hero, maybe not to the public, but to his problem children. He's always there for them, and hasn't failed them like a lot of heroes and the society at large has.

Aizawa-sensei is the epitome of everything they strive to be, and though they'll always give different answers: All Might, Hawks, Powerloader, Cementoss, Lunch Rush, there'll always be one true answer. Something only they know. Mr. Aizawa is the ideal hero.

Dark Shadow uses they/them or it/its pronouns. Just makes sense, considering Dark Shadow isn't human, and likely doesn't conform to the same rules of gender we do

Considering Shoto (canonically) trauma dumps to make best friends (Izuku and Katsuki), it's only a matter of time until he does the same for Tenya. Especially after the Stain arc. And I feel like it'd just SHATTER his world view of heroes and hero society. He sees it through even more rose-tinted glasses than Izuku, so the realization that someone wildly viewed as a hero could so such things and get away with it would be totally new to him. Especially because the only experience he had was with Tensei, who is the ideal hero.

Back on my 1A and 1B hero agency bullshit, all their interns love them. They're always so kind to their interns and treat them really well, despite how they normally are or treat their fellow heroes. They remember what it felt like during their own internships, being scared and on their toes. They don't want their interns to feel like that around them.

In their shared agency, Kota and Eri intern there of course, but so do a bunch of other hero students. Some from Gen Ed too, anyone they feel like have potential, application or not.

The Combined Hero Agency (I don't have a name yet) most definitely teach their interns quirkless self defense, for all the times their quirks have failed them or made things more difficult. Hand to hand and using a variety of weapons.

1A is used to Mei and Izuku (Sometimes Tenya tags along. Very rarely, Denki) meeting up to talk costumes and mad genius shit, with Izuku's quirk analysis and Mei's skill in building, 1A would have the best costumes.

these are all so extensive and thought out .......... i love this anon uve put work into these they're so excellent .......... i love 1a family dynamics :( godddd i love them theyre lovely i love this AHHHHH MAN

#long post #anon #ask #bnha #1a

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florrickandassociates · 3 years

Text

TGF Thoughts: 5x04- And the clerk had a firm...

You can tell I’m enjoying this season when episodes air on Thursdays and I’ve written a recap by Friday night. More under the cut, as always.

I woke up very early on Thursday morning and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I decided to just watch this episode on my phone (I write these on rewatch). I’m sure the show was hoping that the upside-down clips of fake!Love Island would be disorienting, but wow, did this work on me. Between the lack of sleep and how plausible it would’ve been for me to accidentally have my phone upside-down with rotation lock on... I truly thought it was an ad for Love Island and also had to pause the episode to check my phone settings. Good job, show!

It turns out, however, that Carmen is doing a headstand and watching reality TV on her laptop. Very happy to see Carmen at home. It would be easy for the show to have her just be a mysterious presence at the firm, so even seeing her do perfectly normal things is a good reminder that she is a whole person and not just Associate Who Will Defend Anyone.

(I wouldn’t have expected Carmen to enjoy reality tv, but then again, I love Big Brother so...)

Carmen lives in a studio that doesn’t look like it is brand new!!! I’m ridiculously excited to see an apartment that actually looks like a place someone fresh out of law school might live. I’d believe it if Carmen lived in a studio in a luxury building or a one-bed on the salary she’s surely making at RL, but it’s very refreshing to see a character who isn’t super-wealthy on this show that tends to be about, well, very wealthy people.

Carmen is smarter than every other character on this show and on most TV shows: instead of opening the door without taking any precautions, she puts the chain on first. Remember how people used to just show up at Alicia’s door when she was the governor’s wife, and she’d always just open the door and look surprised?

Charles Lester is at Carmen’s door even though it’s nearly midnight. She tries to get him to leave, but he insists on staying. She closes the door to undo the chain, and uses the privacy of the closed door to grab a makeshift weapon, just in case.

Carmen explains her apartment by saying, “student loans.” So she doesn’t come from (excessive) money. (Or she was cut off by her family, but I feel like the early character description of Carmen said something about her family not having money.)

Lester has something very important to tell Carmen, but all his notes are on different scraps of paper and, even though he says his information is time sensitive, he takes his time looking for the right piece of paper.

He says Carmen can’t say she heard the info from him, blah blah. He’s there to share that in ten minutes, someone at the firm is going to be searched by the FBI. This info comes, of course, from Rivi.

Do we think Lester has to reference his notes to remember that the FBI is searching a name partner of Carmen’s firm? Or do we think he’s fucking with her? I think the latter.

Carmen was doing exercises to help with migraines, btw.

Carmen calls Diane to tip her off. Diane and Kurt are already asleep, but luckily, Diane has her phone on full volume and takes the call. She’s not happy about it and asks if it can wait until tomorrow. Asks is the wrong word—she instructs the caller to hang up if it can wait.

Even though Carmen can’t say where she got the information, Diane knows it must be from Rivi. Seems obvious enough.

Kurt gets out of bed and starts locking up guns and getting to work; Diane calls Liz. Liz is in bed with a guy we’ve never seen before and she does not really want to talk.

Liz notes that the info also could’ve come from Wolfe-Coleman, since Carmen is “tangled up with some rough characters.”

I’m sorry, fake Netflix CEO man... WHY ARE YOU STILL TRYING TO KISS AND PLAY WITH LIZ WHEN SHE IS ON THE PHONE TALKING ABOUT PURGING FILES AND THE FBI????

I don’t even hold this against the character. This is one of those things the writers of this show LOVE doing to heighten tension. They think people behave like this in real life and that it’s funny to have a million competing priorities at once, so they insist on doing things like this. In reality, I would be concerned about any person who did not hear “FBI” and go, “um, what the hell is happening? I should stop trying to fuck rn.”

Kurt starts burning papers. Is no one going to point out that maybe being on the phone (after you KNOW you’ve had NSA issues) talking about tips from powerful criminals and asking questions that are pretty clearly about document destruction... is a bad strategy?

Dude, why are you STILL GOING after Liz clearly tells you to stop!? Do you want me to hate you?!

Liz adds Jay to the call. He is asleep and also his hallucination from the premiere is (sadly) back. I still don’t get what they’re going for with this, so I’ll just be happy that (1) there is only one hallucination this time and (2) it’s only on screen for a minute.

This dude is really chanting “Let me see ‘em!” at Liz while she is on a frantic work call! This is how we are introduced to him! This is not funny! If this weren’t being played for laughs/to raise the stakes by having a lot going on I would be calling this man misogynistic!

Liz remembers that Diane has full boxes of files! They spill onto the floor as she tries to hide them! Drama!

And then the FBI arrives, so Diane asks Liz to take her 9 am with Wackner

The FBI enters, accompanied by... Nancy Crozier! Nancy is now an AUSA for some reason!

Nancy has graduated from “just a girl from Michigan” to using her pregnancy for dramatic effect. I guess she’s aged into being Patti Nyholm, or something. (I would LOVE to see Patti Nyholm show up on TGF.)

I know the client files are top of mind for Diane, but isn’t it kind of obvious that the FBI would be there about Kurt, given that the FBI was talking to Kurt days earlier?

9 mins in is early for credits!! (This first act flies, too—did not feel like 9 minutes.)

I say this once an episode, but isn’t it so fun to see all the characters from season one of TGW pop up in season five of TGF?

Liz sees her new man, Del Cooper, in reception. He’s a client. They try to be professional with each other. Liz remembers Diane’s 9 am with Wackner and asks the receptionist to tell her when he arrives. She dismissively says it’s “Some judge guy.” Wackner is, of course, already there and watching the interaction with interest. He uses this as an opportunity to “look for the restroom,” observe Liz meeting with someone else, and walk down to the associate floor.

He asks associate Leah (we’ve definitely seen her several times before) where he’s supposed to go for the staff meeting. She asks if he means the partner meeting or the associate one—he wants whichever is more interesting. She says she only knows about the associate meeting, and so he tags along.

Leah and Lucy (the associate from last week; Michael Boatman’s daughter) talk and assume that Wackner is from STR Laurie and thus in charge of the fate of their careers.

The associate meeting is fairly small—Leah refers to it as their “daily” so I wonder if it’s more like a team meeting than a meeting of all the associates.

The COTW is about a comedian who isn’t always PC. FakeNetflix is getting a lot of Twitter pushback.

“Ah, so you’re worried about being cancelled,” Liz notes. “Don’t say the ‘C’ word,” Del jokes. Then he asks the firm to do a sensitivity read of the comedian’s act.

Liz asks why them. David doesn’t get why she’s asking, though obviously Liz knows he won’t be offended by her question since they have a relationship outside of work. Del thinks that RL is the right firm for this task because they are a black firm, and also because this can be an audition for the rest of their legal business.

This seems like it is better for a PR firm or image consultant? Not a law firm? But sure.

Diane explains the whole January 6th situation to Liz. Liz immediately understands that if Kurt is in trouble, Diane is the one representing him. Because Kurt is Kurt, I’m willing to accept the “spouses-representing-each-other" trope here. But let the record reflect that, as always on this show, it is a TERRIBLE idea to have your spouse represent you! Just pick someone outside of the firm! JUST PICK ELSBETH, KURT.

Diane asks how her 9 am went; David Lee interrupts to ask Liz why she is being so casual with Del. “David, I am on the phone,” Liz responds. I love that she doesn’t really answer him.

Leah and Lucy try to turn the associate meeting into a showcase of how great they are; the other associates catch on quickly and all are happy to answer Wackner’s questions. He wants to understand jury trials.

Nancy’s pregnancy act does not work on Judge Farley, yet she keeps it up anyway. Court doesn’t go well for Diane, but it also doesn’t go well for Nancy.

Some of these interactions remind me a little too much of Peter’s trial at the end of TGW, like this one where Nancy goes to Diane with information about Kurt.

Leah gets off the elevator as Diane and Nancy talk, and to Diane’s surprise, Wackner is shadowing Leah! She takes a moment to look surprised before we return to the scene with Nancy.

I like all the little interactions within this Wackner plot. Diane asking Liz to meet with Wackner both connects Wackner to Liz AND shows that Diane would turn to Liz for back-up, and having Wackner/Leah run into Diane in court is a good reminder that even though Diane is dealing with a pressing issue, Wackner hasn’t just disappeared.

Diane encourages Kurt to talk. She wants to know if he’s not telling her something because she’s his wife or because she’s his lawyer. This is maybe why you don’t hire your wife as your lawyer.

Kurt says it’s because of politics—Diane doesn’t like that, since this is one issue where their politics should be shared.

“Diane, this works between us because we don’t let our political judgements overwhelm our respect for each other,” Kurt explains. But... is that relevant to this particular issue?

Diane asks the same question, essentially, noting that January 6th changed “everything” for her and she can’t treat this like a “chess game” anymore. Kurt wants to know what she’s calling a chess game. She says their marriage is the one thing that’s not a game.

On one level I understand exactly what Diane is saying and on another level I have no clue what this dialogue actually means. She can’t treat things like a game anymore, but also their marriage is the only thing that isn’t a game? So does that mean she can treat everything else like a game, then? I think what she’s trying to say is that the time for seeing political disagreements as a calm and rational game of strategy is over, and that she values her marriage and won’t play around with it.

Kurt tells her what he burned—a list of people in his little group. He says he’d protect them just like he’d protect Diane’s book group friends. Oh, wow, I was not EVER expecting to hear about that arc again! This is a pretty perfect time to mention it, though, since Kurt DID protect book group for the exact same reason he’s protecting the members of his club.

Other than “winning over a new client is important,” I have no idea why Liz and David Lee would gather together a group of partners to do the sensitivity read. I don’t know who IS the appropriate person to do the sensitivity read, given that this is a law firm, but I know this is a bad call.

Oh, they are going to go through line by line dissecting each joke in a group. They get through one joke before Madeline notes that the comedian is “objectifying black men.” A black male partner says he doesn’t mind. Madeline says that doesn’t matter because the joke is racially insensitive.

Overlapping chatter ensues, and the partners try to make changes to the comedian’s jokes, like substituting Norwegian for Nigerian. This... is not what law firms do. The joke isn’t funny with the substitution, but it also wasn’t funny before. It was low hanging fruit and the correct answer is to just cut it entirely. (Also, if you’re a comedian and all your jokes are about common stereotypes of groups to which you do not belong, you are probably not a very funny comedian!)

Diane has Jay do some more investigating. Jay looks up when Diane says, “ringleader of the insurrectionists,” and Diane is just like, “I know.” Then Carmen walks in.

Diane congratulates Carmen on “hitting the ground running” and then asks again how she knew about the warrant. Diane says she’s covered by the same attorney-client privilege, so Carmen should be able to share. Carmen notes the warrant was actually about Kurt, which does not answer Diane’s question. “So this came from Rivi?” Diane asks. Carmen says she can’t confirm.

“Carmen. You have been here three weeks. You have two clients: Wolfe-Coleman and Oscar Rivi. It’s one or the other!” Diane notes. Yep. I love that they didn’t forget that this isn’t much of a mystery. It’s more about principle than anything. If Diane knows it’s one of two sources and needs more information, I’m sure Jay can figure it out.

Carmen knows she’s stuck, so she asks if she can make a phone call. “I think that would be smart,” Diane says.

I’ve noticed that Liz and Diane are both being quite firm with others this season—and I like it. They're spending more time with lower-level characters, and both Diane and Liz have reasons to be more curt this year. Diane is under a lot of stress and it’s showing in all of her interactions; Liz is making a point of seeming in control to establish herself as the leader of the firm.

Then Marissa walks in. “What is going on with your crazy court judge?” Diane asks. “My?” Marissa asks. “Marissa, I am in no mood for defensiveness,” Diane insists. She mentions Wackner missing his meeting and shadowing Leah. That’s news to Marissa.

Marissa heads to Wackner’s court to figure out what’s going on.

Wackner is now experimenting with juries. This is interesting to me—I'd wondered before how smart it was to just have Wackner make all the rulings, so exploring the idea of having a jury shows he’s thinking about that, too. Also, it’s another sign that Wackner wants his court to have many of the same structures as a real courtroom. There are still judges, juries, witnesses, trials—he's starting something new, but it feels more like he’s testing out improvements for an imperfect system. I wonder if his end goal would be to set up separate courts, or if he’s more interested in shaping laws/reforming the system? Surely Wackner has ambitions of scaling up whatever conclusions he comes to. So what are they?

The reason for the juries is that the associates told him that juries are racially biased, so he’s trying to correct it. He also explains how he ended up shadowing Leah, and advises Marissa to go exploring whenever she’s kept waiting. (I have a feeling Marissa doesn’t need to be told this, but then, that’s why she’s Wackner’s “muse.”)

Marissa notes that Wackner’s court is looking nicer—there must be money coming in from somewhere new. Wackner confirms there’s been a sympathetic donor.

Wackner is dealing with a case about NFT fraud. Marissa says she doesn’t know what that is. I’m going to assume that Marissa is using Wackner’s strategies against him (she had just accused him of playing dumb to get others to talk) because I cannot believe that Marissa, who always knows random facts, ESPECIALLY ones that involve weird corners of the internet, would not know what an NFT is.

Marissa hears the case is about $4 million, and she’s shocked because this raises the stakes a little more than even she is comfortable with. Wackner has a signed and notarized document saying that both sides will honor the verdict. It is, as Marissa points out, notarized in 9 ¾ court by Wackner about a fictional case. “About a fictional crime,” Wackner adds on.

I’m a little surprised this is all these writers had to say about NFTs! Maybe they knew that by the time this aired, the actual topic would feel dated.

Mandy Patinkin is just SO GOOD as Wackner! I’m watching a fictional show about a fictional crime in a fictional court and even I am starting to believe in his ludicrous court!

Wackner’s jury selection process involves catching potential jurors in traps, like pretending to know the national anthem when they don’t. Smart. Probably super problematic if you think about it too hard and put it in the wrong people’s hands and people start to know the system. But smart, for now.

Diane is now in the sensitivity read meeting, for reasons passing understanding. They are still talking about the first joke. Jay calls Liz out of the meeting and notes that everyone in the room is old and no one is funny. “I’m funny!” Liz argues. Diane tries to leave the meeting, and Liz tells Diane Jay’s idea about needing younger people. “Oh god yes,” Diane agrees. I’m glad she sees it and a little alarmed that Liz doesn’t! I feel like they should’ve sent the tape to everyone interested in participating, then asked them to write up (separately) anything they found questionable or offensive, and gone from there, ending with a close review of anything that wasn’t previously flagged. If you debate every single line for hours you’re going to get nowhere.

I don’t know why Liz is so concerned that Jay thinks she’s not funny? But she is.

Diane asks Liz to join her meeting with Carmen and Lester. This is a scene I’ve been waiting for! Diane and Liz are both there and so the scene FEELS important. The plot advances. And, most importantly, they address why Carmen is staying at RL!

Lester reiterates that Carmen is super important to Rivi, so if Carmen says she can’t share info, then she can’t share info. Liz and Diane do not accept this. “I am a name partner. Carmen is a first-year associate,” Liz says. “Now, Carmen is free to resign and hang her shingle wherever she’d like. She can even go and work for you. That is up to her. But while she is here, she is subject to the rules and the mentoring of this firm.”

Lester tries to take Carmen out of the meeting. Liz and Diane won’t let him: They need to know if Carmen is staying with the firm, now.

“You have a lot to learn, Carmen. And you can only do that here,” Diane pitches. I don’t think that’s exactly true, but it’s not untrue.

Here is a question I have about Carmen: she is WILLING to represent drug dealers and rapists. Does she WANT to? She chooses RL, so I’m guessing her interests lie in big law and not in aiding criminals.

Lester leaves, but not before saying Kurt is about to get a grand jury summons. Diane gets one too. It’s not the usual guy! Too bad.

A bigger group is now deciding on if jokes are offensive or not, and they’re doing so with paddles that are red on one side (offensive) and green on the other (funny). I’m sure this is going to go well.

The group sees the replacement jokes and they are confused. Marissa wants to see the original joke. Julius shows the room, and everyone laughs. The joke is funny—and offensive. Someone from the mail room notes that he would be the butt of this joke, but he finds it funny, so he thinks the comedian should be able to continue with her set.

Here is where I think I fall on this: Get sensitivity reads to get ahead of any huge issues (like, don’t be Pepsi with the ad with whichever Jenner it was who solved racism). Be aware of the potential issues. Let viewers decide what is and isn’t offensive, and make informed decisions rather than arbitrary rules about what content to show. You’ll KNOW if you are indulging the tendencies of someone with a history of making the same type of problematic jokes (for example, maybe if you are reviewing something by Tina Fey and she tries to write another edgy plot where racial stereotypes are the punchline, you advise her to not do that because, I mean, why WERE there so many episodes of 30 Rock that involved blackface??). You’ll KNOW if you are giving a platform to someone who is actively trying to spread misinformation and be cruel to others. Someone’s going to be offended by everything, and it may be a huge deal and it may not be. IMO, it doesn’t really matter that I can’t make an exact set of rules about what is/isn’t smart to air. I don’t think anyone—not networks, not creators, and not audiences—would benefit from that. Lawyers might, though, for all the billable hours...

“You can’t tell a joke without offending someone,” Jay notes. I do not think this is true! Puns don’t offend anyone!

David Lee’s counter-example to Jay’s point is Gilbert & Sullivan. Of course it is.

As always, the argument devolves into overlapping chatter. These episodes exhaust me. At least this episode has some fun with the topic of the week and seems to have more of a point of view than some of the past episodes where the only conclusion is, “Wow! Controversy is controversial!”

Marissa ends up in the mail room with Jay and one of the mailroom guys (captions say his name is Jimmy). They are mocking the partner’s ideas of comedy. Jay and Jimmy agree that the best comedy is mean. But, Jay says, now it feels like you need “a permission slip to tell a joke.” Is... this true? This feels like one of those things people who would never actually get “cancelled” worry about because their fear overtakes their ability to understand what really gets someone cancelled.

Then again, this episode was written by professional writers who would absolutely know better than I am if people are really hesitant to tell jokes.

Jimmy has started making literal permission slips to allow people to tell jokes about specific groups. Jay and Marissa are down.

Jay asks Jimmy to make a card for something so inappropriate he wouldn’t joke about it... and Jimmy prints a card that says Greta Thunberg. No one wants to joke about that.

And you know why this joke lands well for me? Part of it is that the vibe of this scene is very fun and laid back. But mostly it’s because Younger tried to make a Greta Thunberg joke this season, and it was quite possibly the worst, most embarrassing thing I’ve seen a TV show do in ages. It wasn’t funny, just mean, over the top, lazy, and never-ending. (Poor Younger. That show had an awful final season.)

Liz is still worried she’s not funny. She asks Del if she’s funny and mentions Jay’s comment. He says she’s funny, but she’s not convinced he’s being honest. He points out this is a discussion no one will win. Del ends up accidentally saying “I love you” to Liz, which is a big deal for a relationship we’ve seen for all of two seconds. Liz says they don’t have to talk about it, but Del insists on explaining that he meant “affection,” not love. I’m glad they’re talking about this.

“Then maybe we should get married,” Liz says as seriously as possible. She stares at Del and smiles. He laughs and admits that was funny. It was VERY funny!

Grand jury time! Yet Another Ham Sandwich: The Sequel: The Musical: The Series. (Am I funny? Pls tell me I’m funny and hip with the teens!)

It’s Diane’s turn first. She does well, but there’s not much to say when Nancy plays the recording of Diane phoning the FBI with the rioter’s name. I did not need the clip from last episode in here. Diane is calm in court, but rushes to tell Kurt immediately. Nancy predicted Diane would do that, so she calls in Kurt before Diane has a chance to warn him.

So, wait, Kurt thought all of this was just a COINCIDENCE? Diane didn’t tell him earlier?! I don’t love this choice, but okay.

Liz finds a joke permission slip on her desk. Julius has one too. “Did you use it?” Liz asks. Julius doesn’t understand what that even means. Then they trade clothes, because Liz does want to tell a joke about white girl clothes.

Julius suspects the cards are a way to make fun of the partners for being unfunny. The associates are also chatting about the cards, having lots of fun, so it’s clearly not about the partners.

I think now is an appropriate time to mention that TGW and TGF have both been consistently hilarious shows and have been on the air for a combined twelve years. Neither rely on the types of jokes that these cards permit. This is a kind of interesting thought experiment, but... doesn’t it say something that the shows never use these jokes as crutches and still manage to be funny? This is what I meant earlier about people being afraid of cancel culture when they’re not actually really at risk of coming under fire. These writers know how to write things that are funny. They know how to make comedy out of absurdity and subverting expectations. And yet they’re worried about how to have jokes that aren’t mean? Really?

The first laugh out loud funny TGW moment that comes to mind right now is the episode that ends with that obnoxious talk show guy trying to out Diane as a lesbian. That joke deals with identity. But it still holds up 12 years later, because the joke isn’t that Diane could be gay... the joke is that Diane DOES NOT GIVE A SHIT what this pest is saying about her on TV, and so she laughs. And because the tension of the talk show guy’s BIG DRAMATIC REVEAL is cut with Diane’s dynamic, loud laugh, we laugh with her! I’m not really sure what I'm trying to illustrate with this example. I’m just noting that you can be topical, funny, and entirely appropriate at the same time... and these writers are great at finding that balance.

HR starts, like, texting (they TEXT Marissa!!!) employees about the joke permission slips? It’s so bizarrely done that I thought this was going to be a prank.

Jay decides they won’t go to HR, and Jimmy decides they’ll delay. Why wouldn’t HR just come down and take away the cards?

For this week’s dose of Wackner Wackiness, witnesses will be fully costumed, and it goes without saying that the costumes will be as over the top as possible.

David Cord is the mysterious donor. Marissa spots him and instantly puts the pieces together. Cord explains he met Wackner on the elevator. I can’t say enough how much I like that this season has a lot of moving pieces that feel like part of a whole. Cord showed up as part of a case that caused internal debate at the firm and had a thematic parallel to an ongoing plot, then crossed over into Wackner’s plot once he was established as a character!

Cord says he’s interested in “disrupting things” so he’s interested in Wackner. I did not need the still photo of where they founded HP that’s used to illustrate humble beginnings, I guess.

Nancy mentions Kurt’s unfortunate last name—she so would. Kurt takes the fifth. Was this thing about needing a reason to take the fifth true in the earlier seasons and just not mentioned? Didn’t Kalinda and Will use this strategy?

Nancy, obviously, plays the recording of Diane reporting the rioter. Kurt conceals his reaction for the grand jury, but he’s pissed.

Diane tries to apologize and Kurt asks for another lawyer. This is the right move. I can’t be all that sad.

The partners have collected all the cards and are trying to do damage control with HR. (Interestingly, there are certain topics the cards we see don’t touch on. Like, where’s the rape joke card? Aren’t rape jokes what we usually talk about when we talk about comedians getting cancelled? And where are the jokes about minority groups (aside from little people, referred to using the PC name instead of the names that would probably be used in most offensive jokes about little people) not represented in the TGF cast? I find this little bit of self-censorship quite notable, especially given that the writers seem to be arguing in favor of not regulating humor. These omissions, which MUST be intentional, tell me the writers do have their own lines they won’t cross...)

(My larger point there, and where this funny-but-unnecessary subplot fails for me, is that this whole episode feels like a bit of a panic over cancel culture and winds up being a strawman argument. I don’t disagree with the conclusions the writers come to and I do find some of these scenes funny. But at the same time, I don’t think Cancel Culture is actually about coming after every single joke that makes fun of any person or group (if we must do a cancel culture plot, why not do one about someone who is an odious person and yet still has a following even after they’ve been “cancelled”). And I don’t think that showing HR as a very stern, strict, humorless body is helpful. I’m getting ahead of myself, but all that accomplishes is having Liz win on a point that pretty much everyone can agree on, because no one is actually as humorless as STRL’s HR department! Humor has so many gray areas and if you try to make it black and white, obviously the side that’s saying YOU CANNOT MAKE JOKES ABOUT ANYTHING is going to be the one that is wrong.

I did just remember that all of these writers have probably dealt with unfun and strict standards & practices departments, and I like the way HR is portrayed more if I try to imagine them as Standards & Practices.

Liz decides she is going to see HR so she’s seen as an authority figure, not someone subversive. But first, Liz has to meet with Del and the comedian.

Wackner and Cord are in Diane’s office. Diane’s skeptical of their alliance. She also points out that it is corrupt for Wackner to be financed by Cord and decide on Cord’s cases. This is true. Cord says he has no vested interest in any of the cases. And Wackner says he’s the “most untouchable man on earth” and quotes a song again. Yet another example of how this court only works if Wackner is in charge.

The comedy meeting does not go well. David Lee is already trying to pitch their other servicces. The comedian finds the censored version hilarious in how terrible it is, and then she starts making fun of it, loudly, and for way too long.

David thinks it went poorly; Liz isn’t concerned. David is all, “you failed” and Liz asks him to cool it and notes that David isn’t the highest-ranking person at STRL, so he should “stop the shit” and work with her. She’s already sounding more like a boss.

Julius complements her on being “Boseman-like,” which is true (though I wish she didn’t need to be compared to her ex-husband). “I know,” Liz says quietly, likely because she hates that Adrian is still influencing her this much.

Del joins Wackner and Cord in the elevator, and this isn’t the end of the episode but I’m going to pretend it is so all the episodes can end on elevators this year. It’s close enough.

Kurt’s new lawyer is Julius. Ah, yes, choose the corrupt judge Trump pardoned who works at your wife’s firm to represent you. Seems smart.

Liz walks past Diane’s office and the camera follows her up to HR. She tries to get HR to understand humor. They do not. And that’s the episode.

So, a few thoughts to conclude. First, I went into this recap thinking I’d have a lot more to say about cancel culture and the way this episode handled the debate. But I ended up liking this plot—and this episode-- more the second time around. I still don’t think this episode said anything groundbreaking about cancel culture, because I don’t think it actually engaged with the topic beyond the surface. As I noted earlier, coming to the conclusion that jokes should be allowed because we’re all human isn’t really a resolution the real topic. What about accountability? What about allowing for some jokes to be too far without taking the teeth out of every joke? What about the way people panic over cancel culture when they’re not being canceled (this episode felt a little bit like a panic over cancel culture, which is why I reacted negatively to it the first time through) or about how cancellation doesn’t always stick or have meaning? There is SOMETHING to explore here, but I don’t think this episode found that something.

Second, because I didn’t find a way to work it in above... is it me, or is it actually HELPING the show to not have Adrian or Lucca around!? This season feels so much more focused than the past several, and I think it might be because the writers (who are, as always, very good at adapting to curveballs) had to restructure the show. Lucca always had her own subplots that were separate from everything else, and Adrian’s charisma tended to overpower others’ presence (especially Liz’s) whenever he was in the room. It didn’t help that the writers seemed to LOVE writing Adrian plots, even if it meant neglecting others.

Don’t get me wrong—I love Adrian and Lucca both. But there’s something to be said for a tighter show with three main interconnected pieces (Liz/firm drama, Diane/FBI and Kurt, Marissa/Wackner’s court) that carry over from episode to episode. Like the titles of the season, these episodes build on each other.

Also, there’s the right amount of every character this season. David Lee is used sparingly; Jay and Julius are supporting players who sometimes get the spotlight; Wackner is a huge presence but his plot feels like part of the show; Carmen feels important but isn’t being given screentime for the sake of screentime; Liz is finally the type of lead she should’ve been from the start; Marissa has nicely grown into a role closer to leading than supporting; Diane remains a clear lead.

5x05 next week!!! I am expecting some Hitting the Fan level quality and at least one fan-service-y reference. (Not really, but wouldn’t it be fun?)

#tgfthoughts #the good fight

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically. Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling?

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.”

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone.

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him.

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity.

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind.

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.” Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.”

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now.

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already.

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding.

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices.

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach.

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father.

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?”

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information.

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.”

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns.

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian.

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down.

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone.

Damian is lonely.

Patrol is a necessary evil.

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has.

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she��s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops.

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions.

The akuma frowns, tenses.

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity.

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses.

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?”

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.”

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake.

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now?

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham.

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off.

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills.

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it.

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now.

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease.

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something?

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone.

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?”

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again?

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment.

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin.

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds.

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?”

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.”

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him.

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help.

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to.

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding.

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good.

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time. “Who else knows? Do you?”

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?”

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?”

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict.

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends.

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayso #barbara gordon #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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toastedbuckwheat · 5 years

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Hello! May I ask how you draw? I'm currently learning how to myself and would be highly interested into a step to step process by you! Like from sketch to the done thing (no color necessary)

Hello there!

I dunno how I feel about showing how I work/giving advice to someone who’s learning (and I say it as a pro artist who went through years of traditional art education) because when I do the illustrations you see here on my tumblr I BREAK THE RULES you’d learn though life drawing routine, and give in to bad habits, and my methods are rather unplanned and chaotic which makes it difficult to pinpoint significant stages. But I used my portable potato to take some photos during working on my last piece, so I’ll throw it here with a bit of an explanation of what’s going on.

Before I begin - and because you’re about to look at a mess of a WIP - I’d like to give you some general advice that generally makes life easier when you draw (again, things that I learned in traditional arts education - another artist might advise you the complete opposite, dunno!)

Work holistically. Forget them satisfying-to-look-at clips on instagram showing someone produce a hyperrealistic portrait starting from an eye, with each and every element emerging being finished before they proceed to another part. It takes a lot of talent, yes, but these are ppl redrawing a photo in a kind of a mechanical manner. Most artists don’t work this way. Especially if you’re working without a reference, or if you’re doing a life drawing - your process will be layering and changing and finding what works best to give an impression of what you’re drawing rather than reproduce the exact image, and your artwork is likely to look messy most of the time.That said: don’t start with the details. Don’t spend too much time on a particular part while neglecting others. Your goal is to keep the whole piece at the same level of ‘finished’ (even though it’s unfinished - do I make sense?) before you’re confident that everything is where it should be and proceed to the details. So sketch out the composition first. See how things fit, what’s the dynamics. You’ll save yourself from limbs sticking out from the frame, odd proportions etc etc.

Because it’s a game of relationships between different parts of the picture/scene. I ask you not to worry about finishing a single element before laying out the rest because you’ll find that said element will look different once the other part appears! For instance - you might think that the colour you picked for a character’s hair is already very dark. But once you’re done with the night sky background, you’ll find that it’s in fact too light, and doesn’t work well with the cold palette. You’ll have to revisit different parts of the image as you go to balance these relationships and make the picture work as a whole.

Give an impression of something being there without actually drawing it ‘properly’- because details are hard, mate. You’ll see that my lineart usually has hardly any, and my colouring is large unrefined stains, but the finished thing looks convincing. Like, fuck, I can never focus on how Crowley’s eyes are really shaped. So I just turn them into large glowing yellow ellipses crossed by a line, and heard no protests so far.

Don’t panic if you messed up (you probably didn’t anyway). It might turn out to be a completely unnoticeable mistake - because, remember, things work together to balance each other, so another finished off prominent element will probably drown that badly placed line that looked so visible and out of place a second ago.

It might not look good before it’s finished. I’m mostly immune to it after years of drawing, and my recent illustrations all follow a specific method (ykno, my sunset glow effects and all that) so I can kinda predict the next stage. But I do my linearts on a specially picked crap paper, I don’t bother erasing the smudged graphite, and it looks messy af until I make the background white in Photoshop. Conclusion: you might have a moment of doubt as you work through a piece, but try to break through it - I often suddenly start to like what I cursed a minute before! - and try to finish it even if it’s meant to be bad. This way, looking through your past pieces, you’ll see the progress. And trust me, I can’t even look at my art from literally three months ago. It’s normal.

Now, pics! The sketches are paler in real life, but I increased the contrast a little so you can see something.

1. Laying out the composition!

I wanted to just show them kissing, but I got carried away due to some Art Nouveau inspiration. As you might have noticed, most of my illustrations are quite self-contained (ykno - they look like a sticker on a plain background). So I wanted a tight swirl bordered by Aziraphale’s wings creating a sort of rounded, yin-yang like bubble around them. Consequently I made the whole composition revolve around their heads.

2. Adding more details to the sketch. It’s messy af. It will be messy until I’m done. It’s fine.

3. These are the fineliners I use for the linearts! They are made by Uni-ball and come in light and dark grey. I also sometimes use the guy on the left - ‘Touch’ sign pen by Pentel, when I want more brush-like, wider strokes. I work in grey because when I scan it and do my usual boring trick with sunlight highlights - which is an Overlay mode layer in Photoshop - the highlights ‘burn out’ the lines too and make them vanish a little, and the lighting effect gets more striking. I also like to use the light grey ones to make something look pencil-y without actually using pencil, because pencil fucking smudges.

4. It smudges! So because I am right handed, I start inking from the right hand side, no matter how tempted I am to do their faces first.

5. You can see the composition directions here. I made it intuitively, but ofc some ppl actually use grids etc to lay out their drawings.

6. See how pale ans thin the lineart was at first? I kept adjusting it as new inked parts were appearing. It starts to look nice and consistent now!

7. Finished lineart? There are some mistakes which I later corrected in PS. Notice that Aziraphale’s face has hardly any details on it - I tried to make the drawing suggest his expression rather than risk overdoing it.

8. Photoshop time!! You can totally do what I did here even if you don’t have a graphic tablet. I used Curves tool to enhance the lineart, then Quick Selection Tool to select the background around around my sticker-like piece and filled it white (on a new layer ofc). I keep this white layer on top of the layer order so it works as a mask as I colour. I decided I did not like the hatching shading underneath Aziraphale’s halo, so I erased it with a Stamp tool (because I wanna keep the textured grey fill my crap paper naturally gives me!). It’s done roughly but won’t be visible once the thing is coloured.

9. And the reason why I keep the grey shade instead of easily getting rid of it by using Curves/Levels is because when I set this layer to Multiply mode and colour underneath, it gives me this nice desaturated look like from an old cheap paper comic page. It works as a natural filter! But of course I can’t do bright colours this way, so all my glowing highlights happen ABOVE the lineart layer - on a separate layer in Overlay mode!

Finished thing here!

_____

Commission infoBuy Me a Coffee - help me with my transitioning expenses!Prints and stickers and things on my Redbubble!

#ask the buckwheat #long post #tutorial #drawing advice #drawing tutorial #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens fanart #good omens art #my illustrations #doodles #toastedbuckwheat

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.7

Of Monsters and Men

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?) Word count: 2490

Summary: ‘Nat’ and the boys are still on the road and to kill the time more than anything, they talk monsters and most importantly, witches.

You know what they say: speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Warnings: mentions of violence, monsters, supernatural elements, mentions of amnesia and interesting dreams and swearing (always)

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

“Hold onto me tight. Can’t have you falling off, doll…”

“You’re such a troublemaker-“

“I want to see you come undone first. Can I, doll?”

“Do I look unwilling, doll? I’m actually pretty eager to find out how long do you need to recover…”

“Eyes on me, darling-”

You jolted awake with a gasp for air, your eyes snapping open into sharp midday sun. It took you a second to realize where you were, what the low purr under your body meant, music on low volume and a male voice softly humming along.

You blinked, meeting Sam’s gaze as he turned his head to face you.

“Hey. You alright?” he asked, concern furrowing his features.

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the blood rushing to your cheeks at the memory of the dream. They were bits and pieces, sweet and hot, yet leaving dull ache in your chest in their wake. You were absolutely sure this was your consciousness recalling moments with your soulmate, but you were unable to make anything useful of them. It was like chasing ghosts – eh, actually, did ghosts exist? What was it like, chasing them? Never mind-

You were supposed to be a ghost, because apparently you had died.

Alright. Shake it. Snap out of those messy thoughts.

The more awake your body got, the more you realized your chest wasn’t the only thing that was tense and it wasn’t only your neck that nearly cramped.

“Yeah,” you muttered finally, while Sam’s eyes managed to get really worried, still on you. “Just… call of nature.”

In more than one ways. Your bladder might actually burst soon, but you couldn’t deny your arousal either. Gee. Why did it have to be that kind of dream you had? Why couldn’t you see your soulmate’s face clearly instead? Nope scratch that, his ID would be better, complete with his freaking address.

“Hold on for about half an hour, Nat. I’d like to stretch my legs anyway and Garth should be waiting for us.”

You smiled at Dean despite him being unable to see it, his eyes focused on the road. It was sweet of him. You might as well be sweet back.

“Thanks, Dean. And you can turn the volume up, if it was low just because of me,” you hummed, holding back a chuckle when his hand immediately moved to the radio.

“Thanks, Nat. Wanna tell us what that dream of yours was about? You seem a bit shaky,” he nudged, surprisingly gentle. You would expect such approach from Sam, but he only glanced at you, apparently wanting to know as well.

You sighed, wondering how to put it without sounding like a horny teenager.

“It’s… I think they’re like memories? But they don’t make any sense,” you said in the end, casting your glance down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, fingers interlacing and disjointing again. “It’s my soulmate, I know as much. Or, you know, I’m pretty sure. It’s nothing useful though.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam soothed, his voice genuinely regretful. You just shook your head, sending a sad smile his way.

“The only pattern is a… a pet-name, I guess.” Well, until now, it was just one. ‘Darling’ was new. “He keeps calling me ‘doll’.”

You didn’t know why you told them, you weren’t planning on it. Except they were so genuinely nice to you it hurt and you felt like honesty was the least you could give in return. Now, you could practically touch their surprise.

It was Dean who commented on it, but not in a malicious way, which you were eternally grateful for.

“Doll, huh? Maybe he’s a mafioso. Sounds like something from an old movie. Heh, maybe you time-travelled too!” he speculated out loud and you only gulped, not as amused as you should be. Was that a thing? Time-travel?

“God, I hope not,” Sam whined, effectively startling you. So it was possible?

“Nah, I bet it’s just him being a gentleman, ya know, the old-fashioned kind of guy. After all, how could he not, having such a… swell dame for a soulmate?”

Both you and Sam eyes Dean with wary and confusion.

“Since when you’re an expert on war era slang?” Sam demanded, amused surprise lacing his voice.

“Simpler times, Sam. Simpler times. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Sam just chuckled, shaking his head. You laughed as well despite not quite understanding what it meant. You simply enjoyed the banter and teasing that was strengthening their brotherly love; you already caught up that much, that they loved each other greatly. How could they not? They were both absolutely amazing despite their differences.

People might find it strange for them to be so close at their age – not that you knew theirs precisely, or yours for that matter – but you thought it was endearing. If they killed monsters for living, their lives couldn’t be normal and conventional, could they? It spiked your interest once more.

“Alright. What can you tell me about what you do and how you get your money?”

“Not sure you wanna hear that, d-- now I have the nickname stuck in my head, dammit. It’s not a pretty chat, Nat. You sure?”

You nodded, but agreed out loud for the god measure. After all, Dean was still driving.

“Your choice. We hunt monsters. But let me tell you, humans are actually the worst… well, humans and witches…”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Dean and Sam hadn’t even told half about the monsters that lurked in the shadows and you already felt overwhelmed, grateful when you reached Bedford and the older brother called his ID maker.

Garth was a nice guy, if a little overexcited and goofy.

He called you a madam, gave Sam a newest book by George R. R. Martin (who?), which seemed to excite the hunter greatly and Dean received a piece of apple pie. You couldn’t remember your life, but if you had, you were sure it still would have been Dean’s smile that was the brightest you had ever seen. Note to yourself; when repaying Sam and Dean, a pie and a book were necessities.

Your trio didn’t stop to chat with the man for long though – you needed to be on your way. Garth was apparently in the business of hunting, because he made a face way too similar to Sam’s at a mention of witches. You weren’t sure if you looked forward hearing about those; you guessed they weren’t wearing pointy hats and befriending cats.

The remaining hours to your destination flied; the brothers continued to educate you in monster food chain (people were usually the food, which you did not enjoy learning), briefing you on existence of things you could barely imagine. Also, they weren’t only friends with an angel, apparently – they were also on rather good terms with king of Hell.

“King of Hell?” you parroted, bewildered. What the h— heaven?!

“Yeah. Dean used to be bestie with him, too,” Sam quipped, half delighted at his brother’s annoyed face when sharing this fact, half bitter for pretty obvious reasons.

“Dude.”

“You keep the weirdest company,” you stated, your head buzzing with all the info you got. You grimaced when you realized that the company included you.

“We know,” Sam sighed, turning his tablet on. “But it’s not all bad. I mean, Garth, the guy you just met… he’s a werewolf and-“

“He’s a WEREWOLF?!” you yelped, causing the brothers jump in their seats and Dean jerk the steering wheel aside, throwing you all of balance.

“Christ, woman! Keep the volume low!” the driver spitted out as he returned to the correct lane, ignoring the honks of other cars. “I know, I know, shut up, I’m not drunk…”

“Sorry,” you blurted out on autopilot, your mind pre-occupied with the fact that the sweet dorky guy you had just met was a fucking werewolf.

It was Sam’s turn to apologize or he thought so. “My bad. I shouldn’t have just dropped that on you.”

“But he was so nice!”

“If you say so,” Dean assented reluctantly, voice dripping with doubt. You weren’t trying to figure out why he questioned such an obvious thing. It wasn’t your place. Not to mention you were still too astonished by the announcement.

Sam cleared his throat. “Anyway. We have two victims so far. Both are young women, Alicia Peters, 16 years old and Helen Sanders, 16 as well. They were apparently classmates, rather good students, but not friends. One of them was found three days ago, the other yesterday. They both sneaked away in secret, some other classmates claimed to them being… eh, giggly. They thought they had new boyfriends,” Sam summed up, while Dean nodded every now and then. “Why do you think witches? Could be dragons… which would be probably even worse.”

“…dragons? You’re joking.”

Dragons were real now?!

Dean ignored your incredulous remark. “Virgins, right? That’s what I thought. But check this out – according to the coroner, they had a puncture wound over their heart like from some very thin needle – or, more likely, a very thin straw, because their hearts were completely drained of blood.”

Your head was definitely spinning now, your stomach flipping over. You had been getting hungry before, but not so much anymore. You wanted to tune the conversation out, but it was inevitable to hear it. Your ears wouldn’t listen; it was like watching a train-wreck happen and being unable to draw your gaze away. Morbid curiosity played a part too.

God, you really were weird company.

“That’s disgusting,” Sam stated, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen.

You only hummed in agreement, trying to get the visual from your brain. Soulmate. Think of your soulmate and his sultry voice calling you doll. You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, shocked that it actually worked. His voice washed over you, cocooning you in a soft blanket.

“Tell me about it,” Dean agreed darkly, but Sam held out his hand all of sudden, causing both you and Dean freeze.

“What?”

“They found two young men this morning. John Doe One and Two for now. They were…” Sam wavered, eyeing you in the rear-view mirror. Now he was checking with you? You guessed your face was pale as a sheet of paper, but hey, it wasn’t like you couldn’t just try and cover your ears. You nodded at him encouragingly and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “…found in one bed, stabbed in the heart and… ugh, with their… tools ripped off.”

Dean winced, while you just blinked. Did he mean like… wow. Oh, wow. You weren’t sure how to react to that.

“There was a note. We apologize for ruining such pure lives of the sweetest kind and as a prove of our remorse, we present their families with-“ Sam faltered in his speech, gagging. “Yeah, alright. Apparently, the missing part of their bodies was found with the… note. No need to go into details.”

“Yeah, Sammy, I’d be pretty grateful if we stopped talking about that. What now, though? Do we believe this crap?”

“You could have an ally,” you quipped shyly, receiving Sam’s sigh in reply.

“Brutal one, but yes. We need to at least check it out.”

“Yeah, but we get a lunch before that. I need something to comfort me. You traumatized my love muscle, Sam. Do you have any-“

“Yeah, alright, just… stop right there,” Sam stopped his brother, as if shielding himself from TMI by holding out his palm against Dean. “Got it. We need to stop for a bite.”

You giggled, the sound interrupted by your stomach growling. When had you got your appetite back?

“I guess lady in the back agrees,” Dean hummed, grinning in Sam’s direction. You laughed when you came to conclusion that he enjoyed making his younger brother uncomfortable, Sam making a face back at him as he realized the same.

They seemed like a greater pair of siblings the longer you spent with them.

It only took several minutes to get to the town and find a place to eat; Dean seemed to have a talent for finding food, which you appreciated immensely. You hadn’t been eating much, ashamed of using the brothers like that, so you were hungrier than you would be willing to admit. You had a sneaking suspicion that Sam was beginning to notice, because his eyes were narrowed as you picked the cheapest thing on the menu that appeared edible.

“You’re not eating,” he pointed out bluntly the moment the waitress left.

You just gaped at being caught and so shamelessly called out. Dean’s gaze shifted to you and now you had two men glaring at you keeping you company in the boot.

“I’m… not hungry.”

“Your stomach said differently,” Dean reminded you with his eyebrow arched in challenge. You opened your mouth uselessly, the protest dying in your throat at the intensity of his bright green eyes. “If this is about money, get your head out of your ass, Nat. You need to eat.”

“But-“

“But nothing. We’re having a desert,” he shut you up effectively, not permitting any objections.

You sighed, guiltily merging with your seat. A menu was placed in front of you, Dean’s fingers pointing at it.

“Actually, you’re picking one right now.”

You wordlessly obeyed, defeated. “I don’t mean to be difficult,” you whispered apologetically and Sam just shook his head with a smile.

“We know. And I get it, you don’t want to impose and use us, but… we chose to help you. Try to accept it, alright?”

You only nodded, determined to at least find the best dessert. The corners of your lips quirked when you found it.

“Looks like we’re in for an apple pie,” you decided, smirking in Dean’s direction. His eyes lit up and you couldn’t but feel the warmth around your heart at that. You actually did that, made him smile. Maybe you weren’t the worst company in the world after all. “Unless you’re sick of it after-“

Dean’s hand snatched the menu away, shutting it close. “Shut you piehole, Nat.”

Sam laughed as they brought your food.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You were just finishing your infamous dessert, when the brothers stiffened at the voice coming from behind their back, the other side of the boot.

You frowned, not finding anything strange about the female voice with British accent.

“Thank you, darling. It will be all,” the woman said politely.

The moment the waitress left, Sam and Dean stumbled from their seats and towards the other boot. The tension in their shoulders only grew and they let out a ridiculously synched irritated sigh, multiple emotions playing on their face; you caught annoyance and a bit of anger for sure.

“Rowena,” Sam greeted her in pretended politeness and you couldn’t but check the situation out. They didn’t seem to be happy about running into their acquaintance.

You got a glimpse of a redhead sipping at her tea delicately, her pinkie raised as she held her cup.

“Hello, boys.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 8

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

I adore that woman, I swear. She’s so classy and sassy.

Also, for those who haven’t seen SPN, I extended the guide at the end of chapter one - you’ll find ‘Chuck’ and ‘Rowena’ there ;)

Thank you for reading!

79 notes · View notes

eremiie · 4 years

Note

okay and for the matchup!!! im gonna try and make this as descriptive as possible but if u want more info pls lmk :)) also it would be cool if it was a guy and it would be REALLY cool if it wasn’t zeke (him and i just don’t click idk i hope that doesn’t mess u up:()

for physical i use she/her pronouns, i’m a about 5’6 and a little on the thicker/curvier side! idk if this is tmi or not but i’m pretty hefty in terms of 🍒 but i got NOTHING for 🍑 :(( breaks my heart aNYWAY i have long light brown hair and my two front pieces are dyed blonde/silver ish, i have blue eyes and wear glasses!! in terms of makeup i tend to do more natural stuff like basic foundation and mascara and that stuff but that’s mostly bc i suck at everything else 😭

my zodiac sign is sagittarius (november sag if that helps) and i’m an enfp!! i tend to be a little shy when i first meet people but once i warm up it’s hard to make me shut up lmao i loooooooove meeting new people and getting to know them and ngl i do tend to over share a little bit so that can be a little overwhelming but i’m pretty good at reading ppl so i know when it’s too much you know ?? i also think i’m one of the funniest ppl i know LMAO i’m always laughing at my own jokes and i love to make other ppl laugh it makes me so happy!! in terms of my type of humor it’s pretty sarcastic but i will literally laugh at anything (except things that are messed up i’m not down for DARK humor). also i’m like hella nice tbh i’m probably overly nice to a lot of ppl BUT i also stand up for myself when need be and i’m not afraid to be honest and blunt!

as for bad personality traits i can definitely be a little jealous and i tend to overthink things a lot. i am NOT a morning person if i wake up any earlier before like 10am i’m usually pretty cranky for the rest of the day which is pretty annoying lmao. i’m pretty forgetful so if someone tells me to do something they usually have to do it a few more times before it hits me. also i’m the absolute worst at math and i was pretty careless in school :/ i didn’t like get into trouble or anything but i definitely slacked off in terms of grades and caring about things like that.

i’m p sure my love languages are quality time and physical touch bc i’m a HUUUUGE sucker for hugs and hand holding and stuff like that 🥺 i also really think 1 on 1 time with a s/o is important but i for sure think it’s good to have time apart or time with like a group of friends too!!

for hobbies i love to play video games, hang out with friends, listen to music, watch movies and tv and write!! i spend way too much time playing games like minecraft and legend of zelda and i can pretty much listen to anything except for country lol i love comedy and horror movies and tbh i’m kinda a sucker for romance movies 😳 i go to target like every day and just kinda walk around and before covid i loved going out to eat with friends and going to the arcade!!! i’m for sure more of a city person than a country girl and i love spending time downtown just walking around or going to baseball games or whatever!!

for future goals tbh i’m not really sure yet ?? i’m interested in maybe being a therapist or a teacher when i’m older but like i said i don’t have any like set goals career wise. i do want to get married but i don’t really want kids unless i maybe adopt ?? (fun fact i’m TERRIFIED of pregnancy for some reason lmao is that weird). i would L O V E to travel the world someday and see all of the different cultures and places i think that would be so unbelievably fun :))

turn ons include bondage, degradation, wax, dirty talk, and idk if this has a name but having to be quiet 😳😳😳 tbh pretty much everything except for feet, blood, p!ss, and pet (those are the turn offs) but idk besides those id probably be willing to try anything at least once

i hope this wasn’t too long or not descriptive enough!!! again if u need more info pls don’t hesitate to message me and ask i’m an open book :))) thank u sm for doing this muah ur an angel <33333

i match you up with...

connie springer.

i match you up because...

connie could care less how shy you were at first because he definitely opened you up, but not by his own will, you just felt so comfortable around him to open up in the first place. he just listens to what you have to say, it might seem like he doesn’t care but he’s really listening. you think you’re real funny? when you’re with connie you guys are both hilarious together and crack up at the stupidest stuff but it’s literally so funny because it’s with him. he appreciates that you can stand up for yourself and you’re straight forward so he doesn’t really have to jump in when you’re getting in it with other people— not that he won’t if you ask, he just isn’t a fan of drama if he isn’t watching it. connie isn’t great at reassuring you when you get jealous and start overthinking but i think there aren’t many moments when you do with him because you guys are always spending immense quality time together that is such a vibe it leaves no room for any thinking. connie doesn’t wake up early and neither do you so you don’t have to worry about waking up early when you live with him. you and connie are forgetful but you’re forgetful together— that’s not really a positive but it’s funny. you guys also both slack off in school work, which you probably both tried to fix but it didn’t work out. he enjoys that your love language is quality time becayse like i said, y’all spend a lot of it together. he doesn’t mind your affectionate but don’t expect much back in return.

you guys play video games together all the time, in the same house but different rooms, or sitting on the floor in front of the couch together

both of you once slept in together until 3pm and decided it was too late to even start your day, so got up and then went back to bed together

you and connie constantly go places together, and always try to go new places at that as well

you guys go out to eat at fast food chains really late at night

both of you tried to study together but y’all literally laughed like the whole entire time and got no progress done

you like watching movies with him but he always falls asleep like 15 minutes in so you take pictures of him sleeping

you guys go to walmart & target all the time to literally just look around

your runner up was eren, hope you enjoyed your matchup!

#eremiie aot matchups

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years

Text

Post-Extermination Cleanup (1/17/2021)

Hey look it’s a chat log that has nothing to do with that event I’ve been logging for the past few weeks

Alastor helps dig out @usedhearts Sir Pentious’s airship after it got crushed during the annual extermination, and totally overexerts himself in an effort to show off. Sir Pentious gives Alastor a tour and plans what ship repairs are needed. They talk about their deaths, play a violin duet, and somehow manage to act incredibly gay without either one noticing the other one has a crush. “How incredibly gay?” you ask, and I answer: at one point they just start smelling each other’s perfume/body wash and neither one thinks this is weird. Radio waves interfere with gaydar.

usedhearts

🎩 I WAS PLANNING TO REPAIR THE WAREHOUSE SO THE SHIP WOULD NOT NEED TO BE MOVED AS IT IS REPAIRED!

🎩 BUT HERE IS THE LOCATION TO CLEAR AWAY THE DEBRIS! [location info lmao]

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Wonderful! Is now a good time for me to come over?

usedhearts

🎩 IT IS! I AM AT THE HOTEL, AND I WOULD LIKE TO BE THERE TO SEE YOU DO IT, SO COULD YOU COME GET ME FIRST?

🎩 I HAVE NOW REALIZED THAT DOING IT THAT WAS MAKES ME GIVING YOU THE LOCATION OVER THIS OBSOLETE! L-O-L

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Ha! Glad to have it anyway. I was actually just about to ask whether you were going to be there or if you were just going to trust me to clean off the debris unsupervised!

🎶 I’ll be right over! And I’ll bring brunch!

usedhearts

🎩 OH, YES, THANK YOU! I HAVEN'T EATEN YET TODAY!

🎩 I WILL AWAIT YOU WITH BAITED BREATH!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 And a hearty appetite, I hope!

🎶 And for my next magic trick, I’ll be silently appearing half a foot behind my audience! In three, two, one...

Alastor

Guess who is now, as promised, six inches behind Sir Pentious. And menacingly whispering “Ta-daaa~”

In order to get six inches behind Sir Pentious he had to position his feet to straddle Telly’s tail. It’s honestly not a very intimidating stance.

Sir Pentious

And there goes his hood in surprise! Even when he was expecting it, he was still done a startle.

"OH!" He laughed after, turning to see Alastor. "GOOD MORNING, ALASTOR!"

Alastor

Alastor comes *this close* to receiving a broken nose. Luckily, he was expecting the hood fwoop. "Good morning!"

For a split second he was desperately tempted to just lean forward, wrap his arms around Sir Pentious, and plop his chin down on his shoulder... but no, no doing that. Instead he stepped back and held up a box. "And here I am with brunch, as promised!"

Sir Pentious

Well, if Alastor wasn't, Telly would then! He turned around enough to be face to face and then hugged him, letting out a little snakey purr.

"It's good to see you, I missed you!" Was that weird to say? Friends missed on another right?

He pulled back and cleared his throat. "YES, WHAT'S ON THE MENU TODAY?"

Alastor

Oh! Okay. Hold on, he's going to melt into the hug. If he hugged back tightly enough it would crush the butterflies in his stomach right?

Apparently not, that *I missed you* made them multiply. "I missed you, too."

Stepping back felt like trying to rip his own arms off. Impressive enough that he succeeded, absolutely astounding that he did it without demonstrating any pain. "I hope you're not sick of eggs—I made a frittata! Just a lazy, simple thing, I'm afraid." This lazy, simple thing was stuffed with pesto chicken and two different kinds of cheese and even a tomato he'd shanked a man in an alley for in order to get it fresh. Never trust Alastor when he calls food simple.

It also, as it happened, had been *his* frittata, until suddenly he'd discovered an opportunity to pass it on to a snake who needed it more than him. He'd carefully trimmed off the part he'd already eaten in a way that disguised the fact that it wasn't a whole piece, devoured the scraps, and hurried over. He wasn't about to waste time making more food when he could just hand over the food he already had.

Sir Pentious

Oh his eyes are big! They are Big and Wibbly, as he stares at that frittata!

"It looks delicious! Oh, thank you, Alastor!" He took it, almost reverently, and sat on his coils to just....start eating right there. He's eating fast but somehow still savoring it! He's making some very happy snake noises, and when he finishes, he's coming back to give him another hug!

"It was delicious, thank you!" He pulled back, but ran his hand down Alastor's arm to hold his hand. "Did you get fresh tomato? It didn't taste dried!"

Alastor

"Any time!" Just look at him eat. Was the poor man starving? Maybe he should have made a new one, it would have been a little bigger. He was considering whether he could teleport in some toast when he got hugged again and forgot what he was thinking about.

"Er—yes! Straight from the living world, I think! Either that or there's a *very* good greenhouse hidden somewhere nearby, but it certainly tastes like mortal realm quality, doesn't it?"

Sir Pentious

"It did! It was so tasty, I haven't had a fresh tomato in--" He pauses and thinks, his face scrunching. "Well, I can't even remember when!" He laughs a bit.

"Did you want some tea-- or, rather, coffee? I know you don't like tea. I figured we might have a cup before we head to the warehouse?"

Alastor

"I've got something of a knack for tracking down the good ingredients! Most of them, anyway—I haven't scared up any tropical fruit for you yet, but I'm keeping my ear to the ground."

He waved off the offer, "Don't you worry, I'm taken care of!" He opened a portal and a handy travel mug dropped through—the coffee he'd been having with brunch. "But if you want to make yourself some tea before we go, I'm more than happy to wait!" He bowed with a dramatic flourish. "Today, I'm at your disposal, my good Sir."

Sir Pentious

Telly's eyes widened again at the sight of the mug. Oh, how convient! He laughed. "I sssee! Putting that french press to good use then?"

He went over to his hot plate, turning it on as he filled the kettle. "And here I was hoping that perhaps I could con you into trying some more tea." He giggled again.

Alastor

"I most certainly have! Let me tell you, it's kicked up the quality of my breakfast a notch or two!"

Alastor found a counter to lean against. "As I said, I'm at your disposal. If you want me to try some more tea..." he placed a hand over his heart gravely while a solemn military march played faintly, "then I'll endure this trial with quiet dignity and grace." His audience laughed at him. "Anyway, this coffee's got to last me the rest of the day!"

Sir Pentious

"Perhaps just one cup? I made this mix just recently and find it quite delicious, even without honey!" He hummed as he too leaned against the counter, waiting for the kettle to whistle. When it did, he poured the hot water into a prepared pot, and settled on his coils to wait. This pot, however, was clear glass, letting the petals and tea inside be seen, as well as how the water changed color.

"It's a blackberry jasmine tea, with a dash of sweet vanilla!"

Alastor

"Better make it a small cup, I don't want to waste your fancy tea if it turns out it isn't to my tastes." And he didn't think it would be, but he wasn't going to be so rude as to not even try it.

He watched the pot, fascinated by the gradual color change.

Sir Pentious

Telly seemed to know the perfect time to pour it-- probably from how often he made tea-- and poured a full cup for himself and only half of one for Alastor. He slid the cup and saucer over towards him-- the cups matched the pot, clear glass with gilded gold edges.

"I think you may like this, as it's more bold and bitter than some other teas I've made." He took a sip without adding anything and sighed happily.

Alastor

"Thank you!" He sipped it, then considered it in thoughtful silence. The invisible audience murmured among itself like judges debating an Olympic gymnast's score.

"Well—I don't think I'd pick it off the menu myself, but it's not bad," he finally said. "It tastes the way a flower garden smells! It suits you."

Sir Pentious

He smiled, taking another sip. "I try my best. I'll find a tea that you actually like yet!" Telly moved closer, sitting on his coils again.

"Alastor, may I ask you something? I'm curious."

Alastor

"If you don't, rest assured that the fault lies in the nature of tea itself and not in your diligent efforts."

He gave Sir Pentious his full attention. "By all means!"

Sir Pentious

If Alastor was expecting something profound, he'd be sorely disappointed. "Why do you like coffee?"

Alastor

A shrug. "I like the flavor!" If Telly was expecting something profound... "Plus, it helps me focus. Like adjusting a telescope's knobs to get the blurry edges of the moon to sharpen. But isn't that why most folks like their morning coffee?"

Sir Pentious

His tongue sticks out a moment and his head tilts. "Perhaps! Every time I drink something with caffeine in it, all it does is make my brain scream, which is why I avoid it!" He shrugs and 'stands', offering his arm to Alastor.

"Shall we head to the warehouse now, my good sir?" He smirked.

Alastor

"Just means you have to be sharp under your own efforts, doesn't it?"

He accepted the arm. "We shall! Shall we be traveling *my* way?" He held up his free hand, ready to open up a portal.

Sir Pentious

"Yes! Absolutely! I'm looking forward to going through one of these portals and not getting pummeled by a giant tentacle monster!" He laughed, thought the sound was a _little_ forced. Also his Scent for the day was also jasmine and blackberry. He was doing a matching thing.

Alastor

"There's going to be no pummeling on *my* watch." For a moment, his tone was unusually serious. "Today, the giant tentacle monster is going to be making up for sins against airships past."

He contemplated their route, then moved his arm from being linked with Sir Pentious's to wrapping around his waist. "Remember when you took me for a dive? You're going to want to get a grip on me that tight. And probably to keep your eyes closed. The view can be... nauseating."

Sir Pentious

Telly glanced down at his tail, the eyes that remained ever open. "That might be...difficult."

But his arm wrapped around Alastor's waist, and he pressed close to his side, his claws even going so far as the latch onto his coat. "Alright! I think I'm ready as I'll ever be!"

Alastor

"Can't blink them?" Tsk. "Well! Try not to look to hard!"

He resisted the urge to take a scenic route, mentally called for a portal, and tumbled them into it with a little push off the ground like kicking off from the side of a pool. For a moment, they twirled through a dimension of stale air and distant roiling shapes, dead eyes tracking their movement, cacophonous inhuman music playing from every direction—

And then they were out the exit portal. The experience lasted under two seconds. Take 1 point of psychic damage.

Sir Pentious

Just the small amount of time they were inside that....whatever it was, had Telly's mind reeling when they exited. He held tight to Alastor even after they were out, blinking owlishly and trying to keep his tea and frittata down. He took slow, deep breaths, and stilled the shaking in his limbs.

"W-well, you weren't kidding about that, were you?" He laughed, the sound weak, and he closed his eyes (on his face) a moment.

Alastor

"They're wonderful folks once you get to know them!" Not that that was much comfort right now.

Alastor was used to it, but he remembered the first times he'd glimpsed that dimension. He pulled Sir Pentious into a hug—physical grounding was probably good—and played the oldest popular song he could think of off the top of his head, "If I Ever Cease to Love." Hopefully Sir Pentious would recognize it from when he was alive—maybe—perhaps the song was too American?—but even if he didn't, it was still a sound far more familiarly human than the noise in the dimension they'd left behind.

Sir Pentious

He didn't recognize it, no, but it was comforting all the same. He stayed clinging to Alastor until the trembling subsided and the nausea faded. Telly took another few deep breaths as he slowly pulled away, though his hand moved to grip Alastor's shoulder.

He shook his head and then looked at the warehouse-- his expression soured instantly at it, half rubble with half his airship still trapped inside. His mind reeled at how much work it would take to fix it. He'd _just_ gotten it back in order, too...

"It's a pity that the angels didn't just....leave it be. I made sure all the Eggs weren't anywhere near it, that the area around it was empty and abandoned, but noooo, they still had to just...._destroy_ it." That was probably more venom in his voice than Alastor had ever heard-- a real, seething hatred.

Alastor

Alastor squeezed Sir Pentious's shoulder in turn. "What do the jailers care about breaking their prisoners' toys, especially when they're only coming into the prison to execute us?" He shook his head scornfully. "Do you know what all this senseless damage and destruction says? They're scared of what you can make. As they should be."

Sir Pentious

His tongue stuck out, and his face scrunched up as he surveyed it-- the Eggs hadn't noticed them yet, and they were still scrambling over the rubble, clearing it little by little. There were only about two dozen of them here, which probably said more about how many he'd need to replace than anything.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it was simply collateral damage. I _tried_ not to advertise that this was were I was hiding my ship this year."

Alastor

"Well, if they're not scared, then they're stupid and ought to know better!" He laughed. "So! What's first? Get all the warehouse pieces off of all the ship pieces?"

Sir Pentious

"Yes, that seems best! Let me get the eggs off of the debris before you start." He moved a bit away from Alastor-- just so as not to make such a loud noise right by his ears-- and then put two fingers in his mouth to whistle. It was loud, sharp, and shrill, and the Eggs immediately stopped and turned, en mass, toward him-- before swarming towards him. They all babbled over on another and Telly sighed, hands on his hips.

"YES, YES, HUSH NOW! MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, ALASTOR IS GOING TO CLEAR THE REST!"

They Eggs all turned in unison to stare at Alastor, half confused and half looking just Not Happy. "Mister Bossman?" One stage whispered to Pentious. "Are you sure about letting HIM help?"

Telly sighed and rolled his eyes (all of them). "I DO NOT HAVE THE TIME TO EXPLAIN MULTIVERSE THEORY TO EGGS. HE'S NOT THE MEAN ALASTOR, HE'S HERE TO HELP, NOW _MOVE!_"

He shooed them off to a clear area a small distance away, and the Eggs obeyed, though many still stared at Alastor as they wandered off.

Alastor

"Just tell them the mean one is Alastor Number One and I'm Alastor Number Two! They should get that—that's how the eggs work, isn't it?" He laughed and turned toward the ship.

He was going to regret having such a small breakfast *and* opening several portals and quick succession—he was well below peak energy even before he got started. Still, he had enough in him for some magical manual labor—he'd be starving at the end, but he'd still be on his feet. "This is going to take a bit of concentration, so I'll be back with you when the show's over. Play a round of cards or something."

He cracked his knuckles and surreptitiously jammed one claw into the palm of his hand. His eyes went wide and blank and filled with static as he connected his mind directly to his usual inhuman partner, and he got to work.

The tentacles dangling out of the massive portal above the airship looked slightly uncanny and unreal as they worked, but they didn't look nearly so mind-meltingly horrifying when framed by normal reality rather than the monster's home dimension. Alastor stood stock still for long minutes as he conducted the creature; the only parts of him that twitched were his arms and hands, moving as though he was puppeting a marionette or playing a piano. First the big pieces were picked up and tossed outside (or, occasionally, dragged into the portal for who-knew-what purpose); then the small ones, delicately plucked up and settled on the warehouse floor by the large suckers or the thin tips of tentacles.

Alastor didn't speak and didn't break his concentration for a moment until he felt the airship was sufficiently clean. Then he cut the connection. As the tentacles withdrew into the closing portal, his shoulders sagged and he stumbled a step back. That took more out of him than he'd anticipated. He didn't know when he'd last been connected to the monster for that long.

He turned toward Sir Pentious, trying not to let his fatigue show. "How's that?"

Sir Pentious

Telly watched with rapt attention-- not too the monster that had once destroyed his ship and was now cleaning and clearing the debris from it. No, he was focused on Alastor, watching ever twitch and movement-- and thus, caught the sagging. Instantly, he was at his side, a hand on his back and the other holding his arm. Telly's tail slithered around behind Alastor, gently bumping the back of his knees to try and get him to sit.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, face creased in concern, the hand on Alastor's back starting to rub in slow circles. "That looked like a lot..."

Alastor

"What? I'm f—" The tail bumps the back of his knees and his legs immediately give out. He flailed with a sound effect like a bookcase falling over as he went down—oh, now he's sitting. Okay. This was fine.

So much for trying to act cool and unaffected, though.

"... As I was saying! Perfectly fine!" He folded his hands primly in his lap.

Sir Pentious

Telly smiled, a bit rueful, and nodded. "Yes, perfectly fine." His hand was still rubbing Alastor's back, though.

He turned to look out over the space, now open and much cleaner, the half of the warehouse that still stood and the half of the airship inside, now exposed.

"It looks good. Now the Eggs can get started on rebuilding the warehouse-- they're much faster at building things than cleaning, that's what they were designed for, after all." He turned his head, hand cupping the side of his mouth as he shouted.

"NOW GET BACK TO WORK YOU SLACKERS!!" The Eggs, of course, burst into motion.

Alastor

The back rub was somehow half soothing and half incredibly grating, highlighting as it did how vulnerable he must seem at the moment. He endured it for only a few seconds before the buildup of unpleasant stimulation had him squirm away from the touch. "Anything I can do to help with the rebuilding efforts?" He said like some kind of a person in any condition to be rebuilding anything.

Sir Pentious

Telly pulled back his hand, setting his hand on his hips instead. He looked out over the Egg Bois and their work and then shook his head.

"No, they'll have it in hand soon enough. But I could give you a tour of the surviving half of the airship, if you like?" He turned to smile at Alastor.

Alastor

"I would absolutely love a tour!" He hopped to his feet and steadied himself as he momentarily almost blacked out—that wasn't visible, right? "Does the surviving half happen to include the kitchen? I realize you had brunch not too long ago, but it's about lunch time for me!"

Sir Pentious

He didn't touch, not again, but his hands flashed out to hover around Alastor as he hopped up-- just in case. At the question, he ran through the mental blueprint of the ship, his tongue stuck out in concentration.

"The bridge is fine, as is my organ, and the kitchen and my bedchambers are right below those, so I should think so! Though, the furnace was in the back...." He frowned. "I do have an old wood stove in there, though, I'll have some of the Eggs gather some things to burn."

He whistled again and called over four of the Eggs, sending them off with instructions before offering Alastor his arm again. "That's settled, let's get you that tour!"

Alastor

"Oh, the organ survived!" He beamed, what a relief. "Well, the ship will pull through all right then, won't it? Just like admitting someone to a hospital after a terrible accident—it doesn't matter how badly mangled she looks from the outside, she'll survive as long as she didn't damage her internal organs!" Studio audience laughter. Alastor thinks he's hysterical.

He looped his arm with Sir Pentious's and summoned up his cane. "Lead away!"

Sir Pentious

He started to slither toward the exposed, open part of the warehouse and ship. He didn't move fast, setting a leisurely pace. Before long they would get to the bottom floor-- just a lot of machinery. And that was when Telly realized...

"Shit. The ramps are gone."

Alastor

Alastor elbowed him lightly. "Have you forgotten who you're with?" He was sure had enough energy left to summon up a temporary ramp.

Sir Pentious

"We'd only need one up to the second floor-- The one from my bedchamber to the bridge should still be there." He's Trying to not look worried about Alastor. And he failed, he looks very worried.

Alastor

"Not a problem! Just let me know when you need me to summon it up! It'll only last a few seconds, so don't let me forget myself and strand you up on the second floor when I go home, hah!"

What's that look for? Alastor's fine! No weakness!

Sir Pentious

"Now would be good, the kitchen is up there too. The Eggs can find their own way up, they always do."

Alastor

*Kitchen.* Oh, that was an appealing place to start their tour. "Well, in that case!" He tapped his cane sharply on the floor. The light disappeared, leaving their surroundings illuminated in a strange blueish glow—and with the lights out, a glowing neon ramp appeared out of thin air. Shadows were good for all sorts of tricks. Alastor gestured grandly up the ramp. "Shall we?"

Sir Pentious

Hold on he's going to need to take a moment too look at the FUCKING NEON that he now was. Well, that was SOMETHING. After that moment, he just started up the ramp, Alastor still on his arm.

"This is so odd looking, but it's....beautiful..."

Alastor

"Isn't it just?" He was looking at Sir Pentious as he said it. His eyes and yellow stripes practically gave off their own light in this darkness, didn't they. "Simply gorgeous." It had been so long since he'd seen *any* Sir Pentious in light like this...

Hey, pal, whaddaya staring at? Eyes forward. "And it's great for parties, too!"

Sir Pentious

The body eyes stare right back at him. They know your sins, Alastor.

"Yes, I'd think so! I doubt you'd like the music but this lighting reminds me of those 'raves' that the kids have noawadays!" How did he know about raves? Who knew. He slithered all the way up the ramp and then blinked at what the neon did to his bedroom. That was....interesting.

Alastor

Everyone's a critic.

"Oh, I've been to one or two! Can't stand them!" He gave Telly an impish grin. "Did you know some of those places are so crowded that you can run the turntables for *five minutes* before security can make it through the crowd to kick you and your Cab Calloway records out?"

No need for the ramp anymore? Alastor dismissed it with a wave, and the strange lighting with it. The fatigue hit him like a basketball to the stomach. Oh, that left him less energy than he'd expected. Good thing he'd had the foresight to pull out his cane.

Sir Pentious

Telly blinked as the light changed back, and then laughed loudly. "Well, one would think they'd enjoy some Cab, at least you can properly dance to that!"

He surveyed his room, humming a bit. "First thing's first, I'll need to get the wall and ramp rebuilt. I don't want to leave this ship again until it's fixed." Now that he was back, he realized just how much he'd missed it. "Then the plumbing, the tanks, get the power back up...."

Alastor

"You want the walls in *before* you have plumbing?" He shrugged. "All right, if chamber pots are your thing..."

Sir Pentious

"A wall can be put up in an hour, plumbing will take the entire rest of the day. And I won't be able to sleep with a big hole right into my bedroom." His face scrunched and he shrugged. "The kitchen is through here, though." He pointed at the door across the room.

"Let's get some food and then I can get out my blueprints, really assess what all needs to be done and in what order..."

Alastor

"An excellent plan!" He's practically dragging Telly toward that door, don't mind him, deer in starvation mode coming through.

Sir Pentious

"Oh no, everything in the ice box has probably gone bad." He moved with Alastor, opening the door for him as they moved from hardwood to tile. "But hopefully the pantry is still intact and filled? There should be cans of food in there, along with other non perishables..."

Alastor

"I'm sure there will be something we can make a decent lunch out of!" He plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs to wait for Sir Pentious to survey his supplies.

Sir Pentious

He's more than willing to let Alastor rest as he opens the pantry to dig through it. "Well, we have the usual staples, beans and rice, some cans of various soups. Dried fruits-- oh! And some jerky." He pulled out the bag of dried meat with a grin.

Alastor

"Toss it here!" He held out a hand.

Sir Pentious

Toss! The bag goes sailing towards Alastor as Telly grabs a couple of the cans, a small bag of rice, and a similar sized one of beans. "Nothing fresh though, unfortunately." He lays the spoils on the table.

Alastor

He opened the bag and stuffed three pieces of jerky in his mouth at once as he surveyed their haul. "What do your spice stocks look like? They'd have survived the power going out." He just kind of assumed Telly had spices.

Sir Pentious

Oh he looks a little embarassed but slithers back to the pantry. "Hmmmmm....Salt. Pepper. Some basil....garlic powder...a bit of rosemary, onion powder...."

Alastor

The fact that the first item worth noting was *salt* was somewhat alarming. Even at that, when Sir Pentious trailed off, Alastor waited for a moment for the rest. Oh. Oh that was it.

"... Well! It's better than nothing!" He considered the options, ran through his mental recipe list, guesstimated how long it would take him to make the few options available, and reluctantly settled his gaze on the pre-made soup cans. Desperate times.

"All right, this will do for lunch," he muttered. "But for dinner—" he set the rice, beans, garlic and onion powders, and bag of jerky in a pile by themselves, "—I'm going to make some red beans and rice that would get me disowned by both sides of the family and half the state of Louisiana. So don't tell anyone about it. Unless it turns out amazing."

Sir Pentious

"I swear, I won't," Telly said with a giggle. "Maybe you can provide me with a list of spices and I can stock my pantry accordingly, for the next time."

Alastor

Was Sir Pentious planning to have Alastor over that often? (Don't get your hopes up too high, buddy.) "I'd be honored to suggest a shopping list! But, for now..." He plucked up a soup can disdainfully. "Is the stove ready to burn?"

Sir Pentious

"Oh! Let me see if the Eggs came back with the wood." He slithered from the room for a few minutes. His voice echoed as he ordered the Eggs bring up what they found and then, in they marched, carrying armloads of wood.

"Starting a fire shouldn't be too difficult, I'll just find the matches...." The Eggs set most of the wood by the stove, and shoved some into it, as Telly looked around for his matches.

Alastor

All right. Time to be vertical again. Heave-ho. Alastor rummaged around for a pot and a spoon to stir with while Sir Pentious got the stove going.

Sir Pentious

He discovered the the matches, and then some alcohol and an old rag. He tore it into strips, dousing them in the alcohol before tossing them in among the wood. Telly lit the match and tossed it in and there was a loud FWOOM as it ignited. He coughed a bit as he closed the stove's door, locking it in place.

He waited a few moments to see if the chimney was working-- and it was. No smoke filled the room, thankfully.

"Shouldn't take long for it to heat up."

Alastor

The soup was probably pre-cooked, so he only needed to put it on the stove long enough to heat it up, right?

While he waited, he asked, "So. Wall and ramp, plumbing, tanks, electricity... What all is it gonna cost to get this bird back up in the air? I don't just mean money-wise—time, labor, materials...

Sir Pentious

A deep, long sigh and he frowns. "A _lot_." He slithered toward the door. "Let me grab the blueprints, I'll be able to get a clearer picture with those."

After he left, there was an odd amount of silence, and then a KA-THUNK that sounded like a safe opening. And then he's back in, carrying a leather tube under his arm. "Here we are, let me get these out."

Alastor

Alastor quickly moved the pantry supplies off the table to make room for the blueprints, then stood near to watch their unveiling.

Sir Pentious

He undid the top of the tube, tapping it lightly to get the blueprints out. Some looked far far older than others, and Telly quickly plucked out the newest looking set, putting them on the table before gently coaxing the rest back inside. He set the tub next to his tail and spread out the papers.

Which clearly showed that much more than half the ship was gone-- more like 3/4ths, and Telly's throat constricted a bit. He cleared it with a cough and taped the front end of the drawing. "All of this is intact-- this is the most important bit, so that's good. There's a lot of one of a kind equipment on the bridge that is all fine..."

Alastor

Alastor leaned over to look, passing off his spoon to his shadow to keep stirring the soup. "So you're not going to need as many finicky, fancy parts, I take it?"

Sir Pentious

"Not as _many_ but there were quite a few things that were of my own design that I now have to rebuild from scratch." His eyes flicked this way and that on the paper, and he removed Hatty, tossing him over to the counter to sit. Telly began to rub his hands over the top and back of his head as he stared.

"This is going to take _eons_," He whispered.

Alastor

Alastor looked at Sir Pentious's dejection, and then at the blueprints. He took a seat across from him. "What can I do to speed up the process?" he asked. "Steal supplies? Conquer a better warehouse? Teach all my ghosts to weld sheet metal? Clone eggs?"

Sir Pentious

He was quiet for a long moment as he thought. "First, we can't kill any more of my Eggs, I'll need them all working round the clock to make any sort of headway. Rebuilding said cloning machine is first thing after the necessities. Getting a source of steel, brass, copper, perhaps some silver and gold. Hardwood and softwood, both of high quality. I'd rather not piss off any suppliers, so no stealing from them. The warehouse will be fixed soon enough, probably within a day or two. Some extra hands would be good, though, if your ghosts can carry large loads...."

He trailed off and rubbed a hand over his face. "That's not to mention how many personal hours I'm going to have to sink into it, rebuilding things like the boiler, the engines, and then redesigning things..."

Alastor

The man who was going to conquer Hell was too down and out to risk so much as stealing a bit of metal? He was in more dire straits than Alastor had thought. "Sure, not a problem, they can carry the loads—my ghosts *and* my many-limbed friend!"

He watched helplessly as Sir Pentious rubbed his face. "But surely I can help with more hauling heavy loads around? Don't get me wrong, if that's what you need, you've got it—but isn't there more I can be doing to help out?"

Sir Pentious

He's quiet for another moment before his head lifts and a thoughtful look crosses his face. "Well....considering you're an accomplished Deal Maker, maybe you'd be able to wrangle better deals from the suppliers than I normally would-- I'm half convinced they upcharge me just for the fun of it." His face scrunched.

"Though I understand if you'd rather not use your reputation for that sort of thing...."

Alastor

"You've got it!" His expression brightened at something he could help with. "We'll have to be clever about it, of course—a little subterfuge here, some cross-universe acquisitions there—because once people know I'm making orders on your behalf, things get *much* harder for *you,* my friend." He flung an arm around Sir Pentious's shoulder and winked conspiratorially. How did he do that, a second ago he was on the other side of the table. "But we're a couple of clever villains, aren't we? I'm sure we can get the supplies you need without tipping our hand."

Sir Pentious

His own expression brightened right back at Alastor's, and he smiled. He leaned into Alastor when he put his arm around him. "Sounds good. We are clever, we can make this work!" He felt a lot more optimistic, all of a sudden! Well, that's nice! "It'll still take a lot of time and hard work, but that will help a lot."

Telly grabbed the blueprint container again, grabbing a few pencils from the side pocket to start scribbling over the blueprint, already making alterations and modifications on the design. "Don't forget your soup, Alastor. Can't help me fix all this on an empty stomach." He winked.

Alastor

"As if I could forget lunch!" He'd totally forgotten lunch. He looked at his shadow, which held out the soup pot and shrugged at him. Alastor took it by the handle, found a soup spoon, and plopped back at the table to eat it straight from the pot. "What all needs changing?" he asked, leaning forward to read the blueprints upside-down. "Angel-proofing it? Say, I think the airship seems vulnerable to attacks from above, don't you? Especially collapsing warehouse attacks.”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, it does need upper reinforcement. That's definitely one thing I'm adding. It was far too fragile. Also more automated defenses that would trigger when registering angelic power...." He hummed and tapped his lip with the pencil.

"Maybe I can prototype that one weapon I was thinking about when we were on Okkylk..." He nodded a little. "Fairly sure angels can be hurt by their own weaponry...."

Alastor

"Careful—once someone manages to hurt an angel, all of Heaven's going to be targeting them to make sure they don't tell everyone else how to do it. Might be better to lay low and accept a few more smashed airships until you're sure you've got something that can take *all* of Heaven out."

All suggestions of caution aside, he was beaming with glee. "Do you really think you've got something that can take out angels, though? We've had black market angelic weapons down here for eons, if all it took was chucking their own spears back at them someone would have managed it by now! There's few beasts humans won't find some way to hunt, after all!" He pantomimed firing a rifle—a gunshot and a startled elephant trumpet rang out. "You must have something with a little more oomph to it?"

Sir Pentious

His hand perched under his chin, Telly's face looked downright dastardly with evil glee as he grinned. "I do, Alastor, I do indeed. You see, Valera told me that she has Angelic and other magical weaponry in her home, and that got me thinking: perhaps these weapons could simply have their energy siphoned and used to make.....perhaps a ray gun?" He started to cackle, first softly and then gaining in volume.

"It's so simple, one would think I would've come up with it before, no?" He settled but his grin still stayed. "Though, that does lead me to another request for you: I would like to learn more about magic, so as to better make this device, what would you say to teaching me?"

Alastor

Under other circumstances, Alastor would wonder how an angelic ray gun would have better odds of injuring an angel than an angelic bullet gun.

But under *these* circumstances, Sir Pentious was wearing an expression fitting on any silent movie dastardly villain and letting out a megalomaniacal laugh that should have won awards, and if he'd told Alastor that this ray gun could cut the moon in half and cause God to spontaneously shit His britches, Alastor would have agreed.

"*Well,* now!" He considered the request, rubbing his chin. "Some things that I know, I can't teach you—it simply isn't *for* you, it's something you only get the right to learn through your ancestors. Other things won't be much use to you, if step one is 'make a deal with so-and-so' and you're gunning to usurp so-and-so's whole chain of command. But the rest?" Another thoughtful pause. "Sure, I think I know a thing or two that might be useful to you."

Sir Pentious

"I would love to learn whatever you have to teach me, Alastor. I've been curious about magic for a while, but it seems so opposite my technology that I hadn't bothered-- plus, considering how terrible this universe's Alastor is to me, that put me off it too. Now, though, considering I have you, well, it seems the perfect opportunity to start." He chuckled, looking back down at the blueprints. He started sketching again, humming softly.

"Just think of all the new things I could make combining my technological skills with magic...."

Alastor

"Oh, I *do* think of it." He used to fantasize about the sort of doomsday weapons Sir Pentious could make if he had a little magic in his machines. "It's really gonna be something, isn't it?"

Sir Pentious

"Oh I hope so." There's a sort of dreamy cast to his voice, and his smile is wistful. "Things I could only dream of....maybe bring back a few scraped projects..."

Alastor

"*Oh?* What kind of scrapped projects?" He'd barely eaten yet. He scarfed down more soup as he listened. (Tastes like preservatives and salt.)

Sir Pentious

"Hm?" He looked up, having gotten distracted by the blueprints again. "Oh, just things that weren't aerodynamically sound for the airship-- maybe trying a crack at another dual sea/airship..." He shrugged.

Alastor

"Careful with the pipes." Studio laughter.

Sir Pentious

His face fell a little at the crack, and his eyes slid back down. His tail curled around the leg of his chair and he looked back at the blueprints, merely nodding at Alastor's joke. "Yes, certainly." His hand shook a little as he continued to make modifications, his grip a little too tight on his pencil.

Alastor

Alastor's smile wilted slightly. He tisked. "What a terrible comedian I make, don't I? Misjudge a little lighthearted ribbing and it comes across like a knife between one's ribs! My apologies, Telly!" He reached across the table to put a hand on his wrist. "I didn't intend for that to sting. No more death jokes."

Sir Pentious

At the hand on his wrist, he looked up, maybe a little too suddenly, and his breath made a sharp, but soft, intake. An apology from Alastor, any Alastor, was still a strange thing to hear. But his smile returned, smaller, but genuine and he nodded. "Thank you...I would appreciate that-- my death was, as one could assume, quite traumatic."

His eyes unfocused and his face went a bit slack. "My ship crashed, I told you that much but-- I survived the crash itself. Not for long, but long enough to....suffer.... I was pinned under pieces of my ship, my legs were crushed, everything inside...._hurt_, and I was....blinded. My eyes got--" He swallowed. "It was terrible. Dying slowly from bodily trauma, all alone, blind, under tons and tons of metal and glass...."

His breath hitched, and his hand covered his face. "I....I'm sorry, I just need a moment...I didn't mean to--" He took another deep, shuddering breath. No tears, but obviously that was only because he was trying very hard to keep them back.

Alastor

Alastor was completely silent as he listened (a rarity), focused entirely on Telly’s face. When he’d finished, Alastor gave his wrist a comforting squeeze. “Buried alive. I can’t think of many worse ways to go.”

He was silent for a moment; but then he said, “Mine was a lot faster than that. The gap between the wound that killed me and my arrival in Hell was non-existent. Lucky for me, eh? No lingering in pain?” He chuckled weakly. “I was... on a hunting trip. It was deer season. Dead of winter, too—shouldn’t have been out, really, but I was desperate to get a kill. I saw another man out there hunting—we’d actually crossed paths a couple hours earlier—but when he saw me, he must’ve only gotten a glimpse of me through the trees and thought I was a deer, because he fired immediately. I didn’t get a killing wound, but it was, you know, it was still a bullet wound. It was enough to knock me to the ground.

“When he came up to me, I was sure he’d realized his mistake and was coming to give me first aid. Instead, he looked down at me in naked terror, and then pointed his rifle right at my forehead. I guess he’d decided he’d rather get rid of the witness and go home than let a hunting accident ruin his Tuesday.” He played that gunshot sound effect again. This time, the sound seemed to hang in the air dolefully, slowly fading out into dead silence. “I died on my back with my arm trying to shield my face.”

Alastor squeezed Sir Pentious again. “I know yours, now you know mine. That’s fair, right?”

Sir Pentious

As Alastor spoke, Telly uncovered his face, listening intently, and his face started to scrunch. "How....how terrible." The words repeated in his mind, something about them sticking and then it struck him.

"'Get a kill', do you mean a deer? Or something else?" His head tilted, curiousity coloring his expression. "Though, if you don't wish to speak of it, I understand," He added hastily.

He let out a little hum. "Well, it really is no wonder that neither of us had a particularly gentle death, considering how we are now."

Alastor

Alastor gave Telly a wry smirk. “Well, you’ve painted me into a corner, haven’t you? If I *don’t* answer it, that’s just as good as admitting I was out there hunting for something worse than deer, isn’t it?” He scoffed. “I tell you, what’s the point of trying to get clever with ambiguous wording if someone’s just going to ask you to clarify? Some days it just doesn’t pay to tell half truths, you’ve either gotta commit to the truth or to a lie and not split the difference.”

He sighed heavily. “Well, since you asked, I suppose I might as well say this much, but no more than this: the only reason that man survived the day is because he shot me first, and he’ll probably never even know it. And that—that *is* funny. I can laugh about that! But I can’t laugh about much else from that day. I don’t blame you for not laughing about yours.”

Sir Pentious

Telly smiled in return, and nodded. "It is a little funny, yes." He took Alastor's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you for being honest with me, I truly do appreciate it, and I appreciate you."

He looked at Alastor's soup. "It's getting cold, you should eat." He returned to his modifications, humming a little more. "Why is it whenever we're together we end up spilling our guts to one another?" He laughed softly. "Not that I mind it, it's....refreshing, talking so openly about things like this. Trusting someone. It's nice."

Alastor

Telly just had to tack on that *I appreciate you,* didn’t he? Maybe if Alastor shoveled soup into his mouth he could drown the butterflies in his stomach.

“You know, I’ve got this theory—don’t quote me on this—but just a theory that, despite all our grousing and griping about each other, humans actually like humans. And we all go a little stir-crazy down here, not having any humans we can trust. Almost all the trustworthy ones went upstairs and the few that landed down here learned to hide it real quick. So the moment we find someone who doesn’t immediately make us regret a half second of vulnerability, we scramble to put all our eggs in that basket before the bottom of it has a chance to fall out. How does that theory sound?”

Sir Pentious

Telly listened and his face went on a kambucha girl style journey, before he ended it with nodding.

"Yes, that does make sense. Especially for ones who have been in Hell as long as us. Decades and decades, you jump at the chance when you find someone to trust." He smiled, rolling a pencil between his hands. A flip seemed to switch in his mind and he let out a small 'oh'.

"I should survey the pipe damage to get the water running. I can hook it up to the city line, as long as the filters are in place and fine. It would be nice to have water. Would need to cap off any broken pipes before then...."

Alastor

That, and no other version of Sir Pentious had ever given Alastor a reason to regret honesty—and Sir Pentious was the one person Alastor *wanted to know him.* But say that and it invites questions about Alastor’s *local* Sir Pentious. You don’t have to worry about half-truths if you just say nothing at all.

And they’d looped right back around to another opportunity to make a pipe joke. Alastor valiantly restrained himself. “There’s a high priority repair. Without water, it’s going to get pretty unpleasant around here pretty quick. I suppose when you’re in the air you’ve usually got big tank for your water? Do you recycle your water supply onboard or do you land to refill before you run dry?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, a tank for when it's airborn. Don't need to land it to refill though, it has an extendable pipe that I can deploy to connect and refill anywhere. Most of the water has a double use of cooling the machinery after it goes down a drain from a bath or tap. Anything from the.....toliet, gets put into a seperate tank that can be drained in a similar way to the the water intake. That's certainly the first tank getting repaired." He made a face.

Alastor

Extendable pipe. “*Like a giant straw.*” This concept delights him. “The eggs don’t need to use the toilet, do they? At least not much is going in that tank!”

Sir Pentious

"No, thank G--" He stops from saying that and his face scrunches again. "Thank ME, they don't. They don't need to eat, drink, or breath, either. I'm the only one around here who--"

He stops short and makes an even more scrunched face. "WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THIS, I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY BOWEL MOVEMENTS."

Alastor

“Talk about *spilling our guts* to each other!” A toilet flush and more studio laughter. “I know we’ve been doing a story-for-a-story thing, but I doubt you want to hear about mine, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t reciprocate this one.”

Sir Pentious

Telly can't help but laugh at that, his arms on the table and his face buried in them. "YES, PLEASE, I DO NOT WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THAT!" He lifted his head and giggled a few more times. He sighed softly.

"Alright, I need a moment to go siphon some of the Eggs to get started on capping the broken pipes." He stood and slithered out, leaving the door open after him. He loudly called for the Eggs and set them to work before returning.

"I wish I had the PA system working, having to go out and yell for them every time is exhausting."

Alastor

There, that was the sort of laugh Alastor wanted to get from him. One of *many* sorts of laughter he wanted to get from him.

Alastor pointedly cleared his throat. It carried a sound like the amplified rumblings of someone fiddling with a megaphone. “You say you need to get a PA system working?”

Sir Pentious

"Oh!" He laughed again. "Yes, that would be something of your area of expertise, wouldn't it?" He shrugged. "I would love your help, but first the power needs to be fixed, so that it could be properly tested. Though perhaps you could help me with speaker placements on the blueprints?"

Alastor

“*Telly.*” He arched his eyebrows. “You think I need the *power?* To get the *PA system* to work? My *friend.*”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed, shaking his head. "No, I know you don't! But _I_ would need it for it to work once you leave!"

Alastor

A shrug. “Fair enough! But as long as I *am* on board, let me know if you need to yell anything else at your eggs.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, that reminds me, you wanted to see the bridge, didn't you?" He stood and started to gather the blueprints on the table, and then his case of them. "I have a work table up there too, and that's where the PA system's main hub is, if you wanted to take a look."

Alastor

“Absolutely!” He devoured the rest of his horrible soup—he’d need that energy if he was going to play with the PA system—and then hopped up to follow Sir Pentious.

Sir Pentious

Telly made sure to grab Hattie before he left the room-- couldn't forget him! And then slithered back into the bedroom. Moving around the bed, he opened another door to a ramp up. "Right this way!"

Alastor

Alastor paused for a moment in the bedroom—goodness, how many doors did this room have? It was Grand Central Station in here—then followed him up the next ramp. He wished he had a chance to get a better look at Telly’s bedroom, but... well, that would *definitely* be weird to ask.

Sir Pentious

And Telly's already halfway up the ramp, slithering and shivering at the cold metal. "I must get the heating back up soon too, it's far too cold in here for ssssomeone coldblooded."

Alastor

Alastor stopped abruptly on the ramp—he *intensely* disliked the combination of cold and airships and snakes—but he forced himself to shake off the awful feeling that had wormed into his gut and continued to follow Sir Pentious up the ramp.

Finally, at the top, he got himself to speak again: "We're in a tin can in Hell with no roof over us. The rooms closer to the hull are probably going to feel like ovens, aren't they?" Like being in a locked car with the engine off.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, unfortunately for you. It'll feel nice to me though." He laughed. He reached the intricate double doors that led to the bridge and paused the appropriate amount of them for a dramatic reveal before flinging them open.

"AND HERE WE ARE! THE BRIDGE OF THE GREAT SIR PENTIOUS'S AIRSHIP!"

....Which was currently filled with broken glass. Looks like the windshield would need replacing wholesale.

Alastor

There was nothing sadder than a dead bridge on a crashed airship, was there? It didn’t do much to lift his sudden morose mood.

All the same, he played an enthusiastic round of applause for the big reveal. He summoned up a couple of his ghosts to sweep aside the nearest glass so Sir Pentious wouldn’t have to slither over it.

“You know, you’re the only one I know who would make the inside of a giant war machine look like the kind of place you’d want to set up a cafe table and have a coffee!” He admired the scale motifs on the wall as he walked further onto the bridge—until he caught sight of the organ. “Well—*hello there,* beautiful. I don’t think I’ve seen *you* around the neighborhood before. New in town?” He propped himself up on it with an elbow. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dangerous place like this?”

Sir Pentious

"Well, I often say that if one cannot make something functional AND beautiful, what's the point?" He laughed, giving a nod to the ghosts. He didn't know if they would respond, but he still had manners.

"It helps that this warship doubles as my home. If its decor was bland it wouldn't be a very good place to live, in my opinion." He waited for the ghosts to clear the path to the organ, and slithered over to it.

"I see you've met my pride and joy." He lovingly stroked the dark wood and metal of the instrument.

Alastor

"I can't stand a conqueror without style. What's the point, indeed!"

One of the enthralled souls gave a dazed nod back. The other looked away. Rude.

"Why, you *should* be proud of her. Amongst all the instruments of destruction, here's an instrument that's wholly different—but no less capable of bringing down the house!" He pressed one of the keys. Nothing happened. "Oh, right." No power.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, she is glorious-- makes it wonderfully fun to score my own battles!" He laughed, stroking his fingers over the keys. He frowned when no sound came from Alastor's press.

"Ah yes, the bellows can't function without Eggs running it." He nodded solemnly. Then he grinned as he slithered to the side of the organ, pressing his hand to a wooden panel. "Fortunately, that's not the only instrument here."

The press of his hand unlocked the panel and he swung it open, revealing a set of three violins. "Do you play, Alastor?"

Alastor

“Score your own battles?!” Alastor slapped a hand over his dead heart. “Oh, you would have been a hit at the picture shows before they added sound! You mean to say you play *while* you’re in battle?” He could swoon. That’s the single most wildly attractive thing he’s ever heard.

He laughed, “The bellows are still powered manually? How marvelously medieval! I would have thought you’d put this thing on electric power!”

His smile stretched even wider when he saw the violins. This instrument had trap doors. Trap doors that hid even more instruments. Move over, Erik Le Fantôme. “*Do* I *play!* You may never hear me at the opera house, but there wasn’t a *fais do-do* in Louisiana where I wouldn’t have been a welcome addition! *You* play?”

Sir Pentious

He laughed, a long cackling one, pulling out a violin. "Do I PLAY? Why would I have these if I didn't!" Telly tucked the violin under his chin, plucking it a few times to make sure it was in tune before grabbing a bow. He took a breath and pressed the bow to the strings and began to play. The number was quiet recognizable, the first notes giving it away as the Phantom of the Opera.

(( the version he's playing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYwqBCskfsM

Alastor

"I don't know—decoration? To coax guests into playing for you?" He picked up a violin himself, hoping to show off—but before he got a chance, Sir Pentious took off; and Alastor sank down onto the organ's seat, eyes wide, spellbound as he watched and listened.

Only when he'd stopped did Alastor speak up. "You know, I've always wanted to hear you play Phantom. I just thought it was going to be on this!" He nodded at the organ.

Sir Pentious

"I often do! It's a good piece to just play on anything." He grinned, settling down into his coils. He set the violin on his lap and stroked it.

"When I was alive, I had a Stradivarius! One of my most prized possessions! Music was one of the few things that my family encouraged!" He chuckled. "Can't get that quality down here, but I hunted these down. They're very precious, which is why I keep them with the organ. Generally, if something survives a crash it's the bridge, and that's why I keep all these here."

Alastor

"If you can play it this well on violin, I can't wait to hear what else you play it on!" He studied the violin he'd picked up, as if he could judge its sound quality just by looking. "Is the entire organ near the bridge, pipes and all? Or were some of them spread out to the parts of the ship that got destroyed?"

Sir Pentious

"Some of it is here in the front of the ship, but some of them were damaged or destroyed, yes. Usually I have the pipes running throughout the ship, so that the sound of it can be heard anywhere-- it helps keep the Egg Bois' moral up, hearing me play!" Was he preening and puffing a bit, proud of himself? Why yes, yes he was.

Alastor

As he should be! "And heard from miles around, I'm sure! I suppose those are going to need repairs, too?"

Sir Pentious

"Oh, yes, they will. Unfortunately, that will have to be left until more vital things are replaced." He looked very sad about that, and gently pressed a silent key on the organ. And then he blinked, looking at Alastor as a slow, sly grin came across his face.

"Unless, I had someone I trusted to help handle the delicate sort of repairs an organ would require. Perhaps someone with a vested interest in musical instrumentation...."

Alastor

Alastor blinked at that. “Well, now! Do I have a vested interest? Sure! But do I have adequate skill? My instrument maintenance capabilities cap out at re-stringing the violin and emptying the spit out of a trumpet. *But*...” He rubbed his chin. “I’m not qualified to rebuild the pipes myself—but if someone else made the pipes and all I had to do was install them... I could also check with the souls I’ve got enthralled, see whether any of them ever worked on pipe organs?” He let out a long, thoughtful sigh. “What all do you think you’d have me be doing?”

Sir Pentious

"Oh the Egg Bois would be able to handle the actual building and repairs, I wouldn't have you doing physical labor, that would be preposterous!" He chuckled. "No, what I had in mind if giving you the blueprint for the organ's pipes and making sure the Egg Bois don't fuck it up, as they are wont to do. So, you'd be supervising! And then, you probably have if not perfect pitch, then damn near it, correct? Tuning it all is a hell of a job, and one I would gladly take your expertise for."

Alastor

“*Do* pipe organs need to be tuned?” He looked bewildered by the suggestion. “I... sort of assumed you just set up the big tubes and let them do their thing! But—sure, that makes sense, doesn’t it, even trumpets need tuning and they’re just big metal tubes too. I suppose a pipe organ has to have some tuning slides somewhere, doesn’t it?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes! Though it's mostly with the reeds and the sizes of the pipes. Usually I'd go through a few weeks of testing and hearing it out before I would feel it's ready to actually play, but someone else who knows music as well as I do would certainly speed up the whole process." He gave a little shrug. "Most pipe organs also never get moved or regularly have parts of them destroyed, so I am in a bit of a unique situation."

Alastor

“Fair! I suppose you’ve also got air pressure and such to worry about. Temperature?” A shrug. “Well, you’re right, I do have impeccable pitch—but you’ll have to show me the ropes before you set me loose in the pipes!”

Sir Pentious

"Once you tune the first pipe, I'm sure you'll catch on fast with the others, but I will be sure to show you how to it beforehand." He smiled brightly, and lifted the violin in his lap to tuck beneath his chin. "Would you like to duet, Alastor? I've never had the chance to play with another violinist."

Alastor

“*Never?*” He was aghast. “Ever? Then by all means!” He quickly started to tune the one he’d claimed. “What song?”

Sir Pentious

"Well, not since death, no." He shrugged, letting his bow drag down the strings, letting out a ringing note. "Perhaps more Phantom? I know almost every song from that."

Alastor

“Sure!” He enthusiastically raises the bow and violin. “Now, you’ve already covered the main theme wonderfully. Usually I’m partial to ‘Music of the Night,’ but... no, not that. For two violins, a *duet* would be more appropriate, wouldn’t it? What do you say to ‘All I Ask of You’—we take turns on playing the main melody and playing a harmony line?”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, yes, that sounds lovely!" He smiled wider and started playing. His eyes (on his face) almost shut to enjoy the tune, but he kept them open instead, to watch Alastor play.

Alastor

Since they’d launched straight into it, Alastor let Telly take the main melody first for Raoul’s parts, improvising a harmony line to compliment it. It was lucky he was as familiar with the song as he was, because less than half of his attention was on his own playing; most of it was on Sir Pentious, the look on his face, the grace with which he played. He barely remembered that they’d agreed to take turns in time for him to switch to the main melody for Christine’s part.

Sir Pentious

He swaps almost effortlessly to the backing melody, weaving harmonies around Alastor's playing. It's clear that he kept up with practicing through all the years since he'd died, so much so that he was able to be absorbed into watching Alastor play with an intense sort of focus, soaking in every detail. When Raoul's part came back around, he slid back into the main melody, and he smiled.

Alastor

He was *good.* Even after hearing him play Phantom, Alastor hadn’t expected him to pick up an improvised duet so easily. Part of that was no doubt thanks to the fact that Alastor himself had been attending improv jam sessions with total strangers for the better part of a century, he knew how to compliment and enhance another player—but this was not jazz, and if Sir Pentious had been terrible even Alastor wouldn’t have been able to cover that up.

But he most certainly was *not* terrible. And Alastor wished he’d picked a longer song.

Sir Pentious

Telly fell into the back and forth of the duet with such an ease that he even started adding flourishes-- unnecessary, yes, but he also wanted to show off for Alastor. And it was for Alastor, every extra movement of his fingers, ever added note and vibrato, they were all for him. Maybe he was putting a little too much passion behind it for being only friends, but caught up as he was, he didn't find it in himself to care about how appropriate or not it was.

Alastor

Alastor was showing off no less. This symphonic style wasn't his forté, he was more of a fiddler than a violinist, but by God did he plan on playing like he did this every night if his afterlife. He'd started the song still seated on the organ bench, but by the end was on his feet, swaying with the music... and if he'd gotten any closer to Sir Pentious, they'd be risking smacking their bows together as they played.

Sir Pentious

The end of the song came, and with a final flourish, he stopped playing. He set the violin on the organ's bench and took a few deep breaths, his face giddy and his body feeling light. Telly laughed a little and took Alastor by his upper arms, grips tight but happy. "That was fun!"

Alastor

The fact that Alastor hadn't put his violin down before his arms were grabbed was probably the only thing saving him from pulling Telly into an embrace and proceeding to ruin everything. He laughed as well, breathlessly, smiling so wide it hurt. "Goodness gracious, you're—you're *good* at that! I can't believe you haven't played a duet since the 1800s! What other talents are you hiding?"

Sir Pentious

In that moment, breathless and smiling and so close, Telly desperately felt the urge to kiss Alastor. The only thing that saved him was Alastor's voice, and he blinked and pulled back a bit, though his hands lingered on his arms.

"Well, you know about the perfume making, I think. And the tea mixing. And now the violin playing...." He ticked them off on his fingers, though he couldn't even play at seriousness. "I'm not sure if there's much else I could surprise you with!"

Alastor

"Hold—hold on, you make your own *perfume*? *Did* I know that? I noticed how often it changes, but I just thought you had a collection!" This was an entirely new discipline as far as he was concerned.

Sir Pentious

"Oh! I guess I can. I could've sworn I told you about that..." He thinks for long moment, head tilted. "Hm, actually I think I told Valera! Apologies, then."

He laughed and turned his wrist towards Alastor's nose, letting him get a whiff of what he was wearing today. "Gardenia and lilac! And yes, I make them myself. Always found that others made floral mixes too strong, decided I'd like something subtler. Florals are my forte, but I can mix most any kind of perfume."

Alastor

Don't mind him as he shuts his eyes and takes a much deeper whiff than necessary, like some kind of creep. "... *Lovely.*" Okay, that was enough lingering. He smiled crookedly. "So, if I wanted to talk to someone about getting some of that gasoline perfume we discussed..." Studio laughter, he's kidding.

Sir Pentious

He laughed as well, giving a shrug. His arm moved from where he'd rested it on Alastor's shoulder to slide around his waist instead. This was fine, right? He'd touched Alastor like this before, it wasn't weird right??

"I could, actually, but gasoline has such a strong smell you'd be better off just dabbing it on by itself!" Another laugh.

Alastor

That was very fine and Alastor was going to immediately tuck the violin and bow under one arm so that he could slide the other around Telly’s shoulders. “Oh, *well* then.” He shrugged. “What’s the point if it doesn’t come in an overpriced fancy little bottle? I’ll stick to the fragrance I’ve got.” (Which was, for the record, a combination of shampoo and body wash that probably had some kind of name like “ocean breeze.” It was a recent change. Probably very faint, since it had been... a bit since he’d showered. Oh god he should have done that before coming over.)

Sir Pentious

Too late, Alastor, you mentioned fragrance and now he's leaning in to Smell. Blelelelele.

"Oh! That's nice. But if you do want another, proper, fancy bottle level fragrance, do let me know. I would love to make some fragrances for you." He grinned, and gave another blelelele that tickled Alastor's cheek. And then he realized he'd just essentially _licked_ Alastor and he sat up straighter. Thank God he couldn't blush.

Alastor

Pay no mind to the way he leaned into the lick. He told himself not to read into it, it was just a snake thing. "I've never been much of a fragrance person, but... I'll keep it in mind. I've got to see you at work on this newest hidden talent of yours sometime, don't I?"

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I think you do! And my tea mixing, but I'm afraid neither are terribly exciting." He gave a shrug.

"Oh yes, the PA system is over there." He pointed across the field of glass still as of yet uncleared.

Alastor

“Right!” That was what they’d been here for. Not music. The music was just a bonus. A beautiful bonus Alastor was going to be thinking about for weeks. “Then shall we?”

He handed off the violin to his shadow so it could stow them both away where they belonged, and let his enthralled souls clear a path to the PA system. He kept one arm around Sir Pentious as they went.

#usedhearts #chat log

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have-each-others-six · 4 years

Text

time will tell, she’ll see us through (pt. four)

***

part one

part two

part three

***

“It looks smaller on our days off,” Cathy comments, looking up at the marquee of the theater and stepping back to take in the building. “Doesn’t it look smaller now than it does on show days?”

Aragon shrugs, laughing a little bit at the intense concentration in Cathy’s squint as she tries to compare the theater’s appearance to the last time she saw it. “It looks the same to me. Maybe I’m just not observant enough,” she says, looking up at the way the sun is peeking out over the top of the building.

After another few minutes, Aragon nudges Cathy lightly. “Come on, weren’t you just saying how we absolutely need to find your manuscript? Let’s go inside.”

“You’re right,” Cathy says, swallowing hard and coming out of her reverie with a quick shake of the head. “You’re… you’re right. Let’s go in.”

The theater doesn’t feel like a theater without all the people inside of it. The startling silence, in combination with Cathy’s dread about the loss of her one testament to her legacy, makes the entire space feel ghostly. They see a few of the janitorial staff that make the rounds on days off, but the energy of everybody bustling around, shouting out requests for food and info on mic changes and the time till shows, is jarringly absent.

One of the staff lets her into the greenroom after she confirms it’s nowhere among the rows of seats, and her heart starts to beat faster in her chest and in her ears because this is her last chance to find it- this is the last possible place it could be.

She feels desperation through her whole body, tugging her in all different directions as she runs through the dressing rooms, looking and looking and hoping against hope that it’ll be leaned up against something or on a side table or next to a pile of scripts, her mind inventing new places one after the other, but each one is refuted.

Eventually, when all of the possibilities have been exhausted, Cathy ends up in the middle of the stage, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her eyes darting everywhere like maybe if she looks away and looks back the manuscript will reappear.

She’s lost without that manuscript. She had told Aragon earlier today that it was everything, and that isn’t far from the truth. This story is a part of her- or maybe all of her at this point.

This is all she is, all she knows how to be, because for such a long time it was her sole purpose. She was the only one with the means to do it, one of the few women with the ability to read and write and the platform to make her ideas heard, so she vowed to write something powerful that would change the world. If the manuscript is gone, it means that power is gone too.

There’s a gentle hand on her shoulder, and it nearly makes her jump out of her skin.

“It’s not here,” she says softly without turning around to face her godmother, and she hates, hates, hates crying in front of people but now she’s hiccuping through her sobs, feeling snot and tears on her face and not much caring because she doesn’t know if there’s any care left in her. “It’s not here, it’s not here, it’s not here, and if it’s not here it’s not anywhere- there’s nowhere else it could be. It’s lost, Catherine, it’s lost.”

“Come here,” Aragon says, and it isn’t soft and overly sweet, which Cathy would’ve hated right now, instead it’s gentle and it’s sincere, and when she collapses into Aragon’s arms and cries so hard her chest hurts the queen just rubs her back in a slow, steady motion.

“It’s lost,” Cathy repeats thickly. “It’s lost…”

“Listen to me,” Aragon tells her quietly, and her voice is a murmur but somehow cuts through the blaring, screechy panic in Cathy’s ears. “You will come back from this,” she promises.

“No, I won’t,” Cathy spits, even though it isn’t Aragon she’s angry at. She doesn’t know who she’s angry at, actually. It might be herself, for ever letting that stack of paper out of her sight. Or maybe she’s angry at God, the prick. God took Mary from her, has He now seen fit to take her manuscript as well, her only connection to her fragile little baby girl?

“I’ll never be able to write again,” she says bitterly, pushing away out of Aragon’s hold. “I won’t trust it- my writing’s going to be awful for the rest of my life, because I won’t be able to invest any sort of hope in it. I poured everything into this manuscript, this curation of my memory, and I lost it. Who’s to say I won’t lose everything I ever write?” She swallows hard. “Who’s to say I won’t lose all of my memories?”

“That won’t-”

“It happened to Henry, near the end,” Cathy interrupts. “I watched it happen. He started to call me the names of all of you- of his other wives- when he was speaking to me. Once, he thought I was Anne, and he flew into a rage- called me a witch, a harlot, a useless hag, over and over until his face was purple. He forgot the names of his favorite lords, he forgot what he believed in… he forgot until he wasn’t himself anymore, but a shell of who he once was.” She looks at Catherine with a glassy fear in her eyes. “I can’t become like that.”

“You won’t,” Aragon tells her gently. “You’ll have us- we’ll remind you every day of who you are if we have to.”

“But what if I forget who you are?” Cathy asks, in a voice so soft and terrified it’s clear where her worries lie, and it also helps Aragon to finally fully understand why the manuscript is so important to her and why she’s so broken because it’s gone.

She sits down on the steps of the stage, Cathy sitting next to her, and as Aragon puts her arm around her they can hear the muffled noises of the city though the walls of the theater in their silence.

“You still have that last page of your manuscript, right?” she asks quietly, indicating Cathy’s pocket, where the folded piece of notebook paper is.

“Right,” Cathy answers sort of thickly, a little confused as to what Aragon’s getting at.

“Read it to me, will you?”

“It’s incomplete, though,” Cathy tells her. “It’s just the last page, there’s nothing else lef-” her voice cracks. “If the rest of it is lost, what’s the point of the last page?”

“I want to hear it,” Aragon replies gently. “It’s still the last page of something you worked very hard on- it’s the culmination of your story, of all of our stories, and you might’ve lost most of it, but you still have this page and I would like to hear what you wrote.”

Cathy pulls the piece of paper out of her pocket, and it seems too neatly and nicely folded for everything it holds. “It’s not very long,” she says softly.

She leans against Aragon as she flattens out the last page on her knee, and she feels like it’s been a hundred years since she finished writing it yesterday, sitting in almost the exact same spot. She can see the whole auditorium from here- the dim lighting that they turn on to clean the aisles illuminates it just enough that she can see how big the theater really is.

Suddenly, she feels very small.

“Our lives are not limited to the scope of Henry’s reign,” she reads quietly. “They never should have been. Placing us in a miniscule box of marriage and labeling us with words from a rhyme does not allow us our humanity- to have feeling, to have depth, to be complex and mutlilayered like every person on this earth deserves to be. We have had the extraordinary, improbable privilege of getting a second chance at life, and the gift of being allowed to tell our stories on the stage, but we have to look at other lives the way people are learning to look at ours- as something whole, not as something incomplete.”

She looks over at Aragon, taking herself out of reading her own words for a moment, and the woman’s eyes are closed. She’s genuinely listening.

“History is complicated. History is not just looking at people through the lens of what is told about them, it is searching for the truth in their existences. We often ignore either the good or bad in people to paint them as one simple thing, but everyone is human, and we need to appreciate people in their entirety.”

Her handwriting got messy here. It’s hard to read as it slopes and scrawls, like it’s bending under the weight of the emotion in the words- her words. She thinks she might be crying- these are her words, this is the end of her story. This is the end.

“Our opportunity will not be wasted. We don’t know how long we have, but we know that we have a story to tell, and we will tell it in its complete and true nature for as long as we can.” She swallows, hard. She doesn’t need to look at the paper for the last two sentences, because those aren’t just on the page- they’re in her heart, her lungs, in every breath she takes. She feels these last words in her chest every time she puts her pen to paper. “We should all be given the chance to share our story. I am grateful to have been given the chance to share mine with the people I love.” Her next breath shudders when she exhales it out of her lungs, and when she looks over at her godmother again the woman’s eyes are open and flooded with tears. “You are brilliant,” she whispers, smiling, and cups Cathy’s cheek in her hand. “You are brilliant.” “Well, that’s all there is,” Cathy says in a weak sort of voice, and gives a watery laugh, one that doesn’t have a whole lot of humor in it. “The rest is gone.” Aragon rubs her thumb over Cathy’s cheek and looks her in the eye, sincerity and pride evident in her gaze. “Your brilliancy isn’t dependent on the manuscript, darling. You have always been a writer, and you have always had your words. The words in your manuscript may have been lost, but you have so much more in you,” she says, and a tiny smile flickers over her face, her joy showing itself in the small action. “This is not the only story you have to tell, I can feel it.”

“I don’t know if I have any stories left in me,” Cathy says quietly, sincerely, and her voice is fraying at the edges. “What do you mean?” Aragon asks gently, her eyes soft. “Of course you have stories left in you. The historians might say this is the most important one- this is the one that talks about what happened from the perspective of people who actually experienced it, it talks about our feelings on being left out of history from our very unique position of having been reincarnated- it’s a good story to tell, and I think you should try to write it again. But it is not your only story.”

“How do you know?” Cathy demands, still shaking. “How can you say that if you don’t know?”

“You love to write,” Aragon says simply. “You are made of stories, my dear. Every writer is. The way they see the world is through a lens of words. You could write an absolutely incredible story about something as simple as the way the stage looks in the lights right now because of that.” She looks over at Cathy after a few minutes of quiet. “You’ll find a new story.”

“I wish I was as sure as you are,” Cathy mutters. “You don’t have to be. Just don’t give up.” Cathy goes back to leaning against Aragon’s shoulder, and they stay like that for a long while, the smaller woman curled into her godmother’s side, but eventually, in silence, the two of them stand up, leave the theater, and get in the car, Aragon driving them home to the house.

Before they open the door, Cathy has to breathe in and lean against it. She has to acknowledge the piece of her heart that’s been lost along with her manuscript for a moment before she goes back to her family- before she has to really face what’s happened and let it sink in.

She really, really doesn’t want to go inside. But she turns the doorknob anyway.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Jane says, visibly relieved when they walk in the front door, getting to her feet. She checks over Cathy first, then Aragon, looking them up and down with quiet worry in her eyes. “Can you tell me what’s going on yet?” she asks softly once she’s done making sure they’re both all right, and Cathy hates herself for being the reason that there’s that anxious crease between her eyebrows.

She looks over at Aragon and then back to Jane, who always pokes her head in and checks up on Cathy if she’s been upstairs too long, who makes her tea or coffee when she stays up late with a story, who offers up synonyms when she’s scared she’s using a word too many times. “I don’t know how to tell you,” Cathy murmurs, because that’s the truth. She’s fairly sure Aragon means what she says about not feeling let down by the loss of the manuscript, but she’s not sure that Jane will- Jane’s put so much hope into this, both out of love for Cathy and out of a wish that people will read her story.

Jane nods, chewing on the inside of her cheek and crossing her arms tightly over her chest- a sign that she’s nervous, trying to protect herself. “Are you… can you at least promise me that you’re safe? That you aren’t in danger?” “I’m not in danger,” Cathy answers sincerely, holding Jane’s worried gaze. “Really, I’m not.” “You’d- you’d tell me if you were?” Jane asks. Her eyes are soft and gray and fragile. “I would.”

“All right,” Jane replies, and she looks conflicted as she watches Cathy turn to head upstairs. “I… I think it’s really wonderful that you’ve let Kat write some pieces of your manuscript,” she tells her quietly. “It’s good that you’re giving yourself a bit of a rest.” Cathy turns back around, confusion apparent in her expression, but it’s Aragon who speaks. “What? Do you mean the interview? Katherine didn’t write anything for that, she just answered Cathy’s questions.” “Oh,” Jane says, brow furrowing. “I must’ve heard her wrong, then- this morning, when I went into her room, she had your manuscript, Cathy, and she said she was just checking her edits over when I asked her why she had it.” Aragon realizes what that means at the same time Cathy does, and Cathy grips her godmother’s arm. “This morning? Are you absolutely certain it was this morning?” the last queen asks. “Yes, just after you left,” Jane replies, confused. “Why?”

Cathy feels too many different emotions flood her system, and her heartbeat sounds too loud in her ears.

“Excuse me,” she hears herself say in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like her own, and she turns around and strides towards Kit’s bedroom.

Her mind is always filled with thoughts- Aragon was right, she does experience the world through words, and her brain is usually crowded with perceptions, but this is different than her normal, slightly helter-skelter stream of consciousness.

She is being bombarded with feelings of betrayal, the dizzy realization that her manuscript might not be lost, and the no, no, no, it can’t be my Kit thoughts all at the same time, because it can’t be her Kit who would cause her this much pain.

The girl was there when Cathy woke up from that nightmare this morning, she knows how important the manuscript is. She would never intentionally cause Cathy pain, and especially not by targeting her writing.

Right?

As she walks slowly down the hallway, she feels like she did when she was a child taking deportment classes and balancing books on her head, only instead of books it’s the weight of trust and loss and fear, and if she loses her balance she might lose her mind.

Aragon and Jane are staring after the sixth queen in a sort of shock, and Jane looks to Aragon in fear and confusion.

“What’s going on?” she asks worriedly. “Is Katherine in trouble?”

“If Cathy’s right,” Aragon starts, not elaborating on what that means, “she’s going to be.”

***

taglist: @thenicestnonbinary, @soultastic

#the angst is strong with this one #and it will only get stronger #six #six the musical fanfiction #time will tell she'll see us through #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #anna of cleves #katherine howard #catherine parr #six the musical fanfic

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