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lannpaige-blog · 5 years

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NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Eight Prompt: ivory handled moons

PG-13 - Warnings for Death Mentions, Swearing, and Violence Mentions.

Characters: Virgil, Logan, Patton, and Roman

Word Count: 2725

Okay, listen, I had no clue what to do with this so here. Take it.

This is a superhero AU.

Prinxiety and mentions of Logicality.

Ivory Handled Moons

Virgil heard the hum of the elevator and knew Logan was back before the chrome doors even opened.

About time.

Virgil finished his task and made it back to the hidden hideout an hour ago. He didn’t mind sitting there talking with Patton, the only one between the three of them that didn’t dress in a skin tight suit and jump around the city fighting crime, but an hour of not hearing from Logan was way too long. The guy was punctual. More than. He got on Virgil more than one for being even a few minutes late back to the underground base. It didn’t matter that Logan owned the place and knew the layout better than Virgil did. Logan insisted that he be on time. He wouldn’t lie to himself, he was worried about Logan running into trouble, but Patton insisted he’d be all right.

Turned out, Patton was right.

Virgil turned the office chair around, away from the large security camera display, and towards the silver coated doors that opened soon after. Sure enough, Logan stepped out, still clad in his silver and black body-tight suit with the silver dueling crescents in the center. He hadn’t bothered to take of his black mask either, which dipped back into the cowl of his uniform and covered all traces of his short brown hair.

“You sure took your sweet time,” Virgil said, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned forward, his arms propping onto the back of the chair that his chest was pressed into.

“Apologies,” Logan said as he stepped towards the computer and, as a result, Virgil and Patton, who took that time to turn in the chair he sat in like a normal person, “I had an interesting encounter while I was out. Patton, do you have any information regarding a hero by the name of The Crimson Prince?”

“Yeah!” Patton said. Virgil saw the beaming man jerk back to the computer. Virgil turned his own chair slowly to face the computer screens as Patton typed on the LCD keyboard display. After a second, several pictures and a file popped up on screen. The words were big enough for Virgil to read. He didn’t bother. Instead, his eyes caught the costume this particular hero decided to wear. It was a white, red, and gold ensemble. Mostly white, but the hero wore a red cape that looked as if it was designed to dramatically billow in the wind at even the slightest of breezes. The chest, instead of having a logo, looked like the gold trim and stitching were taken out of some kind of fairy tale more than any superhero comic. His face was covered in some kind of red and white theater mask which covered his eyes with black lenses, as well as hid the area around his eyes and the left side of his face. At his right side, the guy had an ivory sheath with a matching ivory sword handle. While the detailing on the hilt and sheath were gold, matching the touches on the man’s uniform, Virgil hoped the blade was the traditional silver.

Virgil hoped this not because gold would be tacky. The whole costume was tacky, if he was honest. No, his hope stemmed from the uncomfortable tightness in his stomach as he stared at the man’s frame.

He knew the broad shoulders and power stance. He knew the smirk traced along the man’s lips. He knew that jawline, that sharp nose, that pristine wave of brown hair that peeked over the top of the mask. His hands tightened against the back of the chair. His mind rotated over the possibility. His ears picked up both his heartbeat and Patton’s chipper words.

“The Crimson Prince started getting some attention a few weeks ago,” Patton said, “Small stuff. Stopped a robbery, prevented a car theft, retrieved some stolen purses and returned them to police, that sort of thing. Then, a couple days ago, he intercepted a whole truckload of stolen weapons and brought them to police. Remy got the report from his boss and added it to the system. Wanna see it?”

“Not at the moment, no,” Logan said, “Do you know anything specific about his approach to crime fighting? Perhaps his morals or any background with which we can use to determine what has led him down this particular path?”

“Nope!” Patton said, “All I know is what Remy’s told me and you know he’s not good with that stuff. I can ask Emile to take a look if you want.”

“I believe that would be a wise course of action.”

“Why?” Virgil finally asked, his voice deep as he turned his gaze to Logan, “He attack you or something?”

“No, quite the opposite,” Logan answered, “He intercepted me on the way back here and voiced his desire to speak with me. I assumed that he wished to join us, as many of these up-and-coming heroes often do. Instead, he thanked me for inspiring him to take this path and handed me this.”

Logan tucked his hand into his tight glove and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. With a calm hand, he held it out for Virgil. Virgil took it with a light tremor dancing across his own fingers. He opened the paper and saw, inside, printed text. Not just any text, though. A poem. Virgil only read the first line:

Wielder of ivory handled moons;

Anxiety’s claws ripped at Virgil’s stomach and clamored towards his heart. He felt the waves of nausea come over him. No. Hell no.

Virgil dropped the letter, lurched from the chair, and ran over to his backpack, leaned against the wall where he’d left it before he changed into his own tight outfit. He opened the smallest pouch in the front, yanked out his cell phone, and brought it over to the computer, his steps and movements jerky and frantic. He turned on the screen, opened the gallery, and handed the device to Patton.

“Take these pictures and cross reference them with the ones you have of The Crimson Prince,” Virgil said. He could feel his voice and throat tighten around the words.

“Who-” Patton started.

“Just do it!”

Patton took the phone and plugged it in. He pulled off copies of images Virgil treasured - images of selfies, of candid shots in his living room, of dramatic poses in open fields, of cleverly photographed shots, of him - and compared them to the numerous images they hand on file. There were more than Virgil expected, but it gave him a chance to see if it was really a match. Seconds felt like hours as his mind begged, pleaded, for this man to not be the crimson clad hero he’d just heard about.

The program stopped. A number appeared. Virgil’s breath caught.

97% Match.

“Guess he’s a guy,” Patton said.

“It seems that way, but we cannot be certain until we are able to completely see the hero’s face.”

“It’s him,” Virgil growled, his frozen fear melting to a heated anger so fierce he felt the flames lick against his face.

“Who is he?” Patton asked.

“He’s my goddamn boyfriend.” Virgil lurched towards Patton. “Give me my phone back, I’ve got to-”

“Virgil, calm down,” Logan said.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Virgil yelled, “That idiot is going to get himself killed doing shit like this! I can’t let him-”

“You cannot use your phone to communicate such a message to him,” Logan said, “It would not be safe for either you or your boyfriend if the message were to get into the wrong hands. I would be willing to invite him here if you wish to discuss the matter in a private setting. It would not be difficult to arrange, given the conversation he and I had this evening about a possible alliance.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Virgil snapped.

Logan nodded, turned, and headed to the elevator. Virgil let out a sigh that was covered but the opening and shutting of the elevator door. The movement, however, wasn’t concealed by anything. Neither was his shaking left hand clawing through his own hair, which was temporarily colored back to match his own starlight inspired wear.

“Does he know about you being a superhero?” Patton asked.

“No! I didn’t tell him anything!” Virgil yelled. He started pacing. “What the hell is he thinking?! He started learning how to fight with a sword for cosplay. Cosplay! That is not going to translate well into this kind of crime fighting! He should know there’s super dangerous people out there! He reads the news!”

“A lot of people try their hands at being a hero,” Patton said.

“Yeah, and a lot of stupid people get themselves killed in the process!” Virgil yelled, “He is not going to be on that list!”

“You’re right, he won’t,” Patton said, “‘cause you’ll be there to protect him.”

Virgil glared at him. “He will if I don’t stop him from doing this!”

“You’re not going to be able to stop him, Virgil,” Patton said. His voice almost mirrored that matter-of-fact tone that Logan had. Virgil blinked at him and lifted his head. “I tried to stop Logan when he decided to fight crime too but he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. We argued for so long over it. Then I saw how much good he was doing and I decided to help him instead. I don’t like violence and I can’t fight but I thought that if I could help him, maybe I could keep him safe and the city would be better for it. This hideout was his idea, but me being here was mine. He didn’t want me involved, but I didn’t give him a choice. You and your boyfriend can do that too.”

“But he’s not an experienced fighter,” Virgil said, his voice dying down but his anger refusing to subside.

“Then you and Logan can train him,” Patton said, “You guys train every day. I’m sure he’d be happy to train with you if you gave him the chance to.”

Virgil crossed his arms and glared at the ground. A lot of things Patton was saying was right. No, he couldn’t stop his boyfriend from doing this stupid shit. In truth, his boyfriend couldn’t stop him either, so Virgil supposed that was fair. He also could keep his boyfriend safe through all this if he convinced Logan that keeping him around was a good idea. But he still didn’t like it. He didn’t like the idea of losing the man he ran to when his panic attacks got back. He also didn’t like the idea of losing the normalcy they’d maintained over the past two years. What would he think when he found out Virgil was hiding this from him? What would he think about the lies Virgil told about his scars? His bruises? His scratches? What would he think about Virgil’s lies about where he’d been and who he’d been with? There were worse things than being a superhero, but Virgil was sure he’d be pissed anyway.

With that thought, Virgil stalked off towards the training room.

“I’m going to blow off some steam,” Virgil said, “When they get here, you tell Logan to let Roman in the training room alone.”

“Oh, Roman’s a nice name!” Patton called. Virgil ignored him, crossed into the training room, and closed the door behind him. There was a lot of open space, some exercise equipment, various dummy weapons, but, most importantly to Virgil in that moment, a punching bag. Virgil pulled his mask back on, tightened his fists, and started throwing punches. Each punch felt like raw anger and unfiltered anxiety. Each one smacked against uncertainty and fear. The cacophony of beats brought a monotone song issued by waves of emotion that altered from anger to sadness to fear and back again in rapid succession.

The door opened. Virgil threw a couple more punches, stopped, and reached his hand out to stop the swaying bag. His chest heaved. Sweat tricked down his temple and traced his jawline. He didn’t dare look.

“I believe my assistant wanted to speak with me,” Logan said, “You can speak to Stellar Starlight about the matters I wished to discuss with you.”

“Thanks,” the other voice said. Virgil could tell from the delighted tone that it was Roman. There was no question about it now. His fingers twitched against the bag. The door shut. Silence feel between them.

“So-” Roman started.

Virgil held up his other had, palm out, fingers splayed. Silence fell between them again. Virgil caught his breath, though it didn’t really feel like it. He could feel a darkness crawl against his skin. So many questions, so many statements, so many wants and needs from this interaction and all of it boiled down to the first question.

“Why are you doing this?” Virgil did his best to disguise his voice. He lowered his hand. “Why are you choosing to be a superhero?”

“I want to save people!”

“That’s it? You know there are hundreds of morons out there that do that same exact thing for the same exact reason that get themselves killed, right? You don’t get to just be a hero to save people. You have to want it for a reason. So, what is your reason, Prince?”

Silence. Virgil could feel the uncertain anger boiling under Roman’s skin all the way across the room. He anticipated yelling, screaming, a fight. Instead, he got a sigh.

“I,” Roman started. He hesitated. Even from that one syllable, Virgil could tell he was about to bare his soul. Virgil braced himself. “I have this person that’s important to me. I want to keep him safe.”

Virgil stayed quiet. He learned from Logan a long time ago that if you wanted more information out of a guy, you didn’t talk. So he let the silence linger. And as Virgil predicted, Roman opened his mouth once more and the words came pouring out.

“He’s the most important person I have. He’s the only one that has always been there for me when I needed someone. Normally you could repay those favors with kindness or something, but he’s so scared all the time about the violence going on and I want to help him out. I’ve spent the last two years training so I can go out there and clean up the streets a little. I’m hoping that it’ll let him walk around without constantly looking over his shoulder. He’s always doing that and I... I want him to feel like he doesn’t have to. I want him to know that there are heroes out there trying to keep people safe. I can tell him that they’d keep him safe all I want, but unless I’m out there doing it, I could never be able to really promise him that. With this, I know I can keep that promise now, even if he doesn’t believe it.”

Virgil finally looked to stare at the other masked man. Even behind that painted mask of The Crimson Prince, he could see that pressed frown and furrowed brow. Normally, when Virgil saw that look, it was accompanied with some kind of gentle touch on the hand, a nuzzle, a kiss, something. But here, with these disguises, there was nothing but distance.

“You’d die for him?” Virgil asked finally, his voice tottering between disguise and tears.

“If I had to, I would give my life to keep him safe.”

After one long, silent stare, Virgil sighed and let his eyes drop. Then he steeled himself with a deep breath and reached up. With one slow, fluid motion, Virgil peeled his mask over his head and let the fabric drop against the cowl of his uniform. Then his eyes flicked up. He caught the slacked mouth on the right side of Roman’s face, the tense shoulders, the shattered bravado falling into slackened, red gloved fingers.

“How about now?” Virgil asked.

There was a pause. Then, in one dramatic motion, Roman tore of his mask, closed the distance between them, pulled Virgil close, and planted one passion infused kiss right against Virgil’s lips. Virgil only let himself hesitate for one second more. Then he accepted the kiss and everything that came with it, uncertain future and all.

#sanders sides #prinxiety #ts virgil #ts roman #virgil sanders #roman sanders #virgil #roman #logan #patton #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo 2019 #naprowrimo #space based superhero au #death mentions #violence mentions #swear words

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marinette-buginette · 7 years

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Serial Killer AU (End 1)

All my thanks to @queenlypirate for suggesting two endings. Either works, so pick your fave. I know which is mine. Also in this one, Marinette took the ‘Chat needed help’ a little bit too literally.

Tikki opened the door to Marinette’s apartment wearily. Putting the key she found in the potted plant next to the door in her pocket, Tikki entered the house. Everything seemed unchanged, save for the thin layer of dust that appeared to settle over everything. Tikki got a grip on her gun and began to move slowly, taking in her surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place, no sign of fighting or resistance. Still, something was out of place. Marinette called about two weeks ago saying she needs a medical leave. Something about exhaustion and other things that might affect her performance at work. Tikki, of course, approved the medical leave. She didn’t want Marinette putting her health in peril or the sake of working. But when she tried to call last week to ask her about her whereabout the line went dead. She assumed Marinette might just have her phone closed. But after continuous calls for a couple of days, Tikki figured something had to be wrong. So she came to visit. It seems like her instincts were right.

Gripping her gun tighter, she approached the door of Marinette’s bedroom before kicking it open with all her might and storming in, gun pointed. It was empty. Tikki’s blue eyes scanned the room. Oddly, Marinette’s sketchbooks were gone. But her phone was still there. Seeing there was no direct threat near, Tikki lowered the gun and went to grab Marinette’s phone. She was really grateful Marinette never bothered to put a password. She unlocked the screen, expecting to see the amount of missed calls. She didn’t expect it to open to a picture of her and Marinette. Tikki narrowed her eyes at the screen. She recognized it. It had been Christmas party from last year. Both women were smiling brightly at the camera, striking a silly pose. Tikki remembered vaguely they might have been a little tipsy. Was this the last thing Marinette had looked on her phone? She obviously didn’t bother to exit her gallery. There was no sign of a fight in the apartment, so if there had been a kidnapping it hadn’t been a violent one. Tikki frowned, trying to put some order on in her thoughts. Something was wrong.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, startling her. Tikki felt a chill run down her spine. She had a bad feeling about this. Checking her screen, Tikki saw the number of the department. Yet, it didn’t ease her nerves.

“Speak.” Tikki ordered, finally answering the call.

“Boss, we have a problem.”

*earlier that night*

Adrien looked at his work with a satisfied smile. The red of the blood was eye-catching, compared to the cream colour of the building. It was truly standing out. Chat nodded appreciatively at his work as she began to wipe his bloody hands on a rag. It was a peaceful night of June, maybe a little too silent for Paris. It was pretty warm, but a chill breeze made sure it wasn’t suffocating. He didn’t know what could make the night more wonderful than killing a gang of fascists.

“Nice work you did there, handsome.”

On second thought, there was something that could certainly make his night much lovelier. Or someone.

“Why, thank you.” his satisfied grin turned tender as he glanced down at her. “It is a dedication for someone very, very special.”

“Oh? They must really be for such a declaration.” they both glanced at the wall of the building again, the red traces of blood forming a perfect message.

Thank you for loving me.

“The most special.” he declared solemnly while glancing at her.

Ladybug giggled. “You are adorable. And you know, that declaration is quite funny.”

“How so?” Chat questioned with a frown.

Ladybug gave him a look that he knew very well. It meant she knew something he didn’t. Taking his hands, she began guiding him away. “Close your eyes. It is a surprise.”

He did as she asked and let her guide him through the small, dark streets of Paris until their movements came to a stop.

“You can open them now.” she whispered in his ear. Chat couldn’t help the smile that appeared once his eyes found the bloody writing.

I will always love you.

“Well, it seems like we were synchronized.” Chat slid his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “I want to make a Disney reference, actually.”

Ladybug could only snort. What a dork. He was her dork, though. And she wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world. Getting on her tip toes, Marinette nuzzled her nose against his. She could almost hear him purr in delight. With a small giggle, she tilted her head, letting her lips slide over his. Chat sighed against her mouth. He will never get tired of her kisses, no matter if they were in their new little home on the outskirts of the city or in a dark alley with their hands covered in blood. She pulled at his shoulders, beginning to deepen the kiss. Chat considered they should call it a night and go home where they could kiss in peace. Too bad, a vibration interrupted them. Chat let out an unhappy growl as Ladybug moved away from him to open the message she received on the communicator.

“Seems like we got a new target.” Chat muttered while looking over her shoulder at the data sent by the leader of the Miraculous, Master Fu.

“Just one this time, not a gang.” Ladybug glanced up at him. “Are you in the mood? Or should we postpone it?”

Chat’s grin gave her enough of an answer.

There was something lurking in the dark. He knew that and tried to ignore it as much as he could, but his instincts were screaming at him to run for his life. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to go out at this hour. Not with the things happening in Paris. The man let out a strangled gasp as a rope circled around his neck, dragging him down and hardening his breath.

“I wouldn’t scream if I were you.” the man looked with big eyes as a woman clad in dark and black approached, the end of the rope in her hand and… was that a yoyo? She didn’t look what one would have imagined the serial killer that put Paris on its toes would look like.

“Wonderful catch, ma choupinette.”

The man eyes snapped towards the voice, his gaze landing on a tall man coming from the other direction. His cat-like eyes pierced through the man who was currently lying on the ground, grabbing at the rope and trying to pull himself free.

“Please,” he begged, his voice strangled. “No, please.”

The woman behind him laughed dryly. “Would you look at that? He learned the meaning of the words now.” the anger was clear in her voice as she tightened the rope a little more.

“Hm, so what shall it be?” the man asked, opening one of the pockets of his belt and revealing some small vials.

“Remind me again, how old was that kid?”

“If the report was correct and they always are, then, ten years old.” he answered nonchalantly.

The woman glared down at the culprit before her expression changed into a sadistic smirk. “Do you happen to have that one poison that makes the intern organs melt?” she asked her partner.

He pulled out one of the vials along with a syringe, smirking back at her. “I love the way you think, my lady.” his eyes shifted towards their target. “Now stay still.”

Ladybug arranged her yoyo back to her belt once they were done. Chat was smiling happily at her, the cat lenses he wore making his eyes glow in the dark of the night. She found it more comforting rather than scary now. Chat extended his hand and Ladybug took it happily, letting him pull her close to him. She sighed contently.

“Let’s go home, my love.”

#miraculous ladybug #ladybug x chat noir #ladynoir #marinette x adrien #adrinette #marinette x chat noir #marichat #tml #my writing

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