#I forget what exactly inspired the hat one but I got the image in my head of bright light and a hat so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uvobreakmylegs · 2 years

Text

Prelude

i’m really excited to have finally written for @conflatemochi‘s mafia au! i was really inspired by this piece that she wrote for Bonolenov, so i wrote something that went more along those lines

also had the image of Bono in that one mobage card where he’s in the hat and coat bc it fit with the au and it’s a good fucking look

MafiaAU!Bonolenov

Warnings: mentions of trafficking, assassinations, death, implied future kidnapping

Word Count: 8.4k

On your very first night of closing by yourself, the coworkers who'd been responsible for training you had made a point to warn you about a particular customer who came in occasionally just before the shop closed.

“Just so you know, this weirdo sometimes comes in around 8:50 or so,” Rory said.

“Oh yeah, that guy,” Kimber commented, “yeah, he's real freaky. But luckily he doesn't usually stay too long. He just goes over to where we keep the records and usually leaves without buying anything.”

“..... Freaky how, exactly?” you asked. You were a bit miffed that they had chosen now to tell you about this, right before they left you alone in the small music shop.

“You know the Invisible Man?” Kimber asked.

“The horror character?”

“Yeah, he looks kinda like that,” she explained, “has the same kind of coat and hat, and his face is completely covered in bandages. Not sure what he's hiding, but I don't think I wanna know. Some of the others said he's got connections with the mafia, so I'd just keep my distance if I were you.”

“How often does he come in? Also why am I only hearing now that there's mafia in this city?”

It was the first time you had heard of that, and it didn't do much good for your nerves since your coworkers were starting to worry you with what they perceived as a potentially dangerous individual coming in while you were by yourself.

“Don't be that surprised; there's mafia in just about every major city,” said Rory.

“Seriously?”

“Yep. But you'll be fine as long as you don't get involved with trouble. And the guy only comes in every once every couple weeks. Just needed to let you know so you didn't get spooked if he comes in tonight.”

“Thanks for the warning, I guess,” you said, shrugging.

Though it would have been nice if you guys had told me earlier instead of right before you leave

“Anything else I should know?”

“Just that you should get out by nine,” said Kimber, “boss hates giving overtime.”

At least that bit of advice was more of what you were expecting, and you said your goodbyes to Rory and Kimber before they were out the door, the bell at the entrance ringing as it closed shut.

Despite what your coworkers had said, you didn't get any customer that night who even remotely resembled the person they had described. A week went by, and then two, and then you managed to forget about the warning after a certain point. Although what they had said about the mafia stayed in your mind and still managed to put you on edge at times, you figured yourself that as long as you kept away from the seedier parts of the city you'd probably be fine.

Soon enough, you became accustomed to the routine at the small music store in the middle of the city, generally taking the later shifts and often closing for the night. The store got most of its business from guitar repair and maintenance. There was even a wall filled with guitars and basses of various types hanging on display. The rest of the space was filled with some rather miscellaneous items; amps, sheet music, several instructional books and a few smaller instruments that didn't take up as much room.

And towards the back of the shop was a section dedicated to CDs, and right next to it sat a moderate collection of vinyl records.

With how most people listened to music through a streaming service these days, it wasn't too surprising that those sections received less attention from customers. You sold more than enough each week that justified having those sections, but the majority of people who bought them seemed to be either collectors or hobbyists, particularly when it came to the vinyls.

It surprised you a little bit that there was still a market for records considering just how much space they took up, as well as them not really being the most convenient way to listen to music these days. But the people who invested in that particular hobby seemed to be enjoying themselves, and ultimately it wasn't any of your business what other people spent their money on.

You became more accustomed to working the late shift alone, and a month after you'd gotten that warning, you found yourself in a familiar scene: alone in the store on a weeknight, ten minutes before closing time while the sky outside had darkened. That day had been particularly slow and you doubted that anyone else would be coming in today. With that thought in mind, you began to tidy up around the register area before running to the back to grab a broom and dustpan so you could clean up the floor a little.

There was still no one when you returned, and you turned away from the door as you started on a section.

The bell above the door chimed just as you began to sweep.

“Ah – welcome!” you called out, caught a bit off-guard by the unexpected announcement of a customer entering.

You were about to let out a few more customer service lines, but they died in your throat when you turned around and came face to face with a man who was covered in bandages.

Although you supposed that the long coat and fedora he wore looked rather nice and that probably meant that they were expensive, the bandages that were wrapped completely around his head was the first thing that stuck out to you when you looked at him.

Luckily you weren't staring at him blankly for too long, as customer service training kicked in and you went on autopilot as you asked “did you need help with anything, sir?”

The man shook his head, then made his way around you as he headed towards the back and stopped at the collection of vinyls.

It was only then that Rory's warning from weeks earlier came back to mind.

You found yourself agreeing with what he and Kimber had said about the customer looking like the titular character from that 30s horror film. If he got himself a pair of sunglasses there would have been even more resemblance.

…. Though as you thought about that a bit more, it seemed a bit mean to make the comparison. Who knew if he had some kind of condition that made him need to cover his face like that? You remembered one science class from high school where the subject had been on a child who'd been born with a condition that resulted in her being unable to sit underneath a regular light bulb, as the light from it was enough to burn her skin. You couldn't remember the specifics, but it was something to do with extreme sensitivity to light. Maybe that was the case with him?

You mentally slapped yourself. That wasn't any of your business. And even if he couldn't hear the things you were speculating about, it was still incredibly rude to do so. As long as he didn't do anything that was against the store policy, it didn't concern you.

The man looked through the small collection of vinyls, carefully flipping through them as though he was looking for something in particular.

Part of you felt like you should ask him if there was anything he was looking for and if you could help him with it, but he made it clear earlier that he didn't need any help, so you kept on sweeping the floor while you made sure to keep an eye on him just in case that changed.

He finished looking through the records, then placed his hands back in his coat pockets. Without taking anything, the man turned and made his way back to the double doors of the store's entrance.

Huh. That seemed pretty quick.

The customer service kicked in once more as you called out to him “have a good night, sir!”

He glanced back at you as he pushed one of the doors open.

“You as well,” he said, nodding at you before he left the store and vanished into the night.

The whole thing had taken only about a minute, and while the man seemed odd, at least he was one of the more polite people you'd interacted with today.

Just like your coworkers had said, he didn't come in all that often. Only every once in a while, and always around the same time, just before the store closed. He never said too much to you, although the last few times he did respond when you had greeted him. Greeting you back after you welcomed him to the store. Just a polite greeting and a polite refusal whenever you asked if he needed help with anything. Nothing more beyond that.

He only came in to look at the records, but never found whatever it was he seemed to be looking for, so he never bought anything. He'd just come in, look for a bit and then leave.

It was never a remarkable event, and the only reason he stood out was just because of the bandages that he always wore. Had it been anyone else you doubted that your coworkers would've bothered to even mention him.

Still, you felt bad.

Maybe because it seemed like his trips to the store were ultimately a waste of time for him since he never found whatever he was looking fore. Maybe because Rory and the others were open about how creepy they thought he was. And maybe because of your own perception of him, jumping to conclusions about a total stranger. Sure, the bandages were odd, but you didn't want to be the kind of person that judged people like that.

The next time he came in, you decided to make more of an effort, and you caught him before he could swiftly leave the store as he usually did.

“Sir, are you sure you don't need any help?” you asked him.

He paused and looked back to you while you continued, “we have stores in multiple locations. If whatever you're looking for isn't here, I can always look up on the computer to see if a different store is carrying the record you want.”

He seemed surprised by the offer, and it hit you that none of the others had likely ever bothered to actually try to help him out.

It took a few moments before he replied to you, sighing a bit before stating “I'm not so sure you'll be able to find it. I'm not looking to waste your time.”

“It wouldn't be a waste,” you assured him, “I'd like to at least try, if that's okay with you.”

You motioned to the computer as you said “it'll only take a minute at most.”

He seemed reluctant, but conceded as he made his way to the desk. You went to the computer, and after opening up the correct program, you asked for the title he was looking for.

“Gyudondond.”

“Ah.... How is that spelled?”

He could probably tell that you were embarrassed to ask him that after making a point about trying to find the thing for him, but he remained patient as he spelled it out for you.

And when your search brought up that none of the stores carried any records with a name like that, he was unsurprised.

“They're fairly rare to come by,” he told you.

“Oh. Did they not make a lot?” you asked.

He shook his head.

“I've only come by a few of them, and usually in the oddest places. To be honest, I don't really expect to find any of them here, but I like to check anyway,” he explained.

“Just in case?”

He nodded.

“Um, if you give me a name and phone number, I could always keep an eye out for you and if we do get one of those records, I could hold onto it for you,” you said.

“No, that's alright. But I appreciate you trying.”

The man then looked up to the clock on the wall, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“I'm running late, so I'm afraid I'll have to leave.”

“Oh! I'm sorry.”

“It's alright. Thank you again,” he said, then paused as he read aloud your name that was printed on your name tag.

There wasn't much else to say after that, and he left as he usually did.

Still, even though he'd said that you probably wouldn't find anything, you wrote down the name on a scrap of paper, placing the piece in your pocket with the intent of looking it up later when you got home.

You really wanted to be able to find one for him.

As you did your best to keep an eye out for a Gyudondond record, you were anticipating that moment of triumph where you would find what you were looking for and be able to give it to him the next time he walked in.

That moment never came. You went as far as to look up Gyudondond records online and the results brought up next to nothing. He hadn't been lying when he'd said that there hadn't been many of them made; no wonder he thought it would be a waste of your time. If he hadn't spoken of them, you wouldn't have even known that they existed.

All you really found when you looked up “Gyudondond” was a short page about a tribe of the same name, and there wasn't much information on them; just that the tribe had existed and made no mention of any records. You weren't quite sure what to make of that.

He didn't expect you to find anything, but you still felt bad.

At the end of another night about two weeks later, you were finishing up with a customer at the register just as you saw a familiar figure walk into the store. The bell at the top of the door announced his arrival, and the man walked toward the section at the back as he normally did. But this time you did notice the way he glanced over at you when he first entered.

The customer you'd been helping had left hurriedly once they'd seen him, and as the door slowly swung shut after they left, the man turned towards you.

“I'm assuming you couldn't find it?” he asked.

“No. Sorry.”

He waved away your apology.

“I didn't expect you to. They're frustratingly rare to come by.”

“No kidding,” you said, “I couldn't even find anyone selling them online.”

“If you had, they would be overpriced,” he replied, walking over to the counter as he did.

“Thank you for trying anyway.”

“It's the least I could do,” you said, “I feel bad that you always leave empty-handed.”

You looked over to the vinyls.

“I guess there's nothing else over there that you'd be interested in?”

“I either already own whatever is available or it isn't the kind of thing I'm looking for,” he replied.

“So you own a lot of records, then?”

“A fair amount,” he said, “is that something you're interested in, as well?”

“Ah, I guess a little,” you answered, “but it seems like a hobby that requires at least some space, and my current living conditions don't allow for that, unfortunately. Maybe someday, though.”

“That's a shame. I might've made some recommendations.”

“You still can,” you told him, leaning on the counter slightly as you asked “aside from those rare records, what kinds of music do you like?”

The bandages made it hard to tell what exactly his emotions were, but at that question of yours, you saw the way his eyes seemed to light up, and he was more than happy to list off what he liked.

Later on you found out his name: Bonolenov.

Time passed on, and gradually he started coming in more frequently, going from once every month to at least once every week. Occasionally more.

On certain visits he didn't even bother checking the vinyls; if the two of you were alone, he'd go straight to you and the two of you would talk, sometimes picking up where you'd left off in a previous discussion about music.

It never lasted all that long; Bonolenov still only came in at the very end of your shift, and he usually seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere after.

You asked him once what he did for a living, and he'd responded that he did odd jobs for a nightclub that was deeper in the city area. You'd found yourself wondering what sort of odd jobs he'd need to be doing that late in the evening, but then again, you didn't know how that particular business model worked. Maybe he needed to get things ready for the next night.

Whatever he did, it didn't matter all that much to you. Bonolenov was fun to talk to, and even though those conversations were still short, you enjoyed every moment that he was in the store, even if you still couldn't find any of those vinyls.

You had largely stopped talking about him with your coworkers, however. While they didn't bring him up a lot, occasional comments about him would reach your ears, but instead of saying anything in his defense, you chose to remove yourself from that situation. You hadn't forgotten what they'd said about his potential mafia ties, and while you weren't inclined to believe that, you didn't feel like getting into any arguments.

Until you let it slip that you had gotten closer to him.

“Gyudon... What is this?”

Rory's voice brought your attention to the register, where you saw him holding the note you had written weeks prior. Earlier you had emptied your pockets when you were trying to find one of your keys, and evidently you had forgotten to remove it from the counter after.

“Oh, sorry,” you told him as you took the note, “I was trying to look something up for a customer.”

“Look up what?” he asked, his brow raised.

“A record.”

“Never heard of that one before. Who's it for?” Rory asked.

“A customer.”

Immediately after you cursed at yourself in your head for how obviously weird that answer was. Just the way your answers came out told Rory that there was something that was up, and he raised an eyebrow at you while he continued to question you.

“Which customer, exactly?” he asked.

Should you be honest about this? Maybe you could convince him that Bonolenov wasn't a bad guy.

“The one you told me about,” you said to him.

There was a mixture of emotions on his face. Confusion to realization, then realization to concern and disappointment.

“You shouldn't get involved with a guy like that. I thought we made that clear,” he said.

“It's fine, really! He's a nice guy.”

Rory scoffed.

“If he's involved with the group that I think he is, then he's one of the furthest things from 'nice'.”

“How would you know? You haven't even talked to the guy,” you told him.

“If he runs with people who maim and murder for a living, I don't think I have to.”

“And you know that for a fact?”

“No... But it's what a lot of people say. And I can tell that the guy is nothing but bad news,” Rory insisted, “seriously. I told you to stay away from trouble. And that guy is nothing but trouble.”

“But you don't even know that for sure.”

“I'm trying to look out for you! Wouldn't you want to know if someone's involved with the mob?”

“Rory, I appreciate that you want to look out for me, but I really don't think that you're right about this.”

He seemed genuinely annoyed by your answer.

“If you keep talking to that guy, you'll regret it,” he said.

At this point, you were just tired of the conversation and let out a sigh as you said “sure, Rory.”

Rory didn't seem to like that answer or the tone of your voice, but he didn't say anything further.

No words were exchanged for the rest of your shift together.

The day after had been a bad day.

It was always bad whenever you ended up getting screamed at by a customer. Even worse when you were getting cursed out for something that wasn't your fault. The sad part was that you were pretty used to stuff like that happening at this point, and in general you were able to keep it from bothering you too much. Your usual strategy was to tell yourself that they were just some entitled person who'd never be able to handle a retail job if they were the one working it, and to remind yourself that whatever a person like that thought of you could never matter.

But even with that mentality, sometimes a customer's outburst managed to hit you differently. And today after you left that situation, you found yourself sobbing in the employee bathroom, rubbing your eyes raw while the tears kept flowing, and the only thing you had to comfort you was the fact that you'd managed to hold it together while you'd been up at the register. The last thing you wanted was for some shitty customer to see you crying because of them. You didn't want them to have that satisfaction.

The rest of the day had dragged on, but luckily nothing else too bad happened, although word must have gotten out about your disagreement with Rory, as Kimber and a few others were a bit more stiff when they interacted with you. That had just made your day worse, and the treatment you'd received had set the tone for the rest of your shift.

As 9 PM got closer and closer, you were more than eager for that moment when you'd clock out and go home. Maybe when you got back you'd stay up late to watch a good movie. Maybe while eating some unhealthy late-night snack that you'd end up regretting later. It didn't matter as long as you would feel better in that moment.

You were wiping down the counter surface when the bell chimed around 8:50. Initially you felt some dread, that a customer was coming in last minute and you'd need to deal with them and they'd keep you here for longer than you wanted to be. But the dread changed to relief when you saw that it was Bonolenov stepping in.

“Hey,” you said to him.

Your greeting sounded weak, and it seemed as though he picked up on that based off of the brief beat of silence before he responded to you.

“Hello,” he said.

“No Gyudondond record today, unfortunately,” you answered, jokingly adding “maybe next time.”

You hadn't meant for your reply to have come out as half-hearted as it did, but the weariness seemed to be overtaking you. You could see the way Bonolenov looked over you with worry, and as he approached you, he asked “are you alright?”

“Ah. Just a bad day. Sorry, is it that obvious?”

“A little.”

It had been hours since that incident with the customer, but you must've still looked like you'd been crying. You wondered briefly how many other customers after had been able to tell that you weren't doing well.

“What happened?” Bonolenov asked.

“Eh, just an asshole customer. It happens,” you replied, “I'm usually better with handling that sort of thing, but that didn't happen today. But I'll get over it. It's fine.”

Despite your insistence that it didn't matter, Bonolenov didn't seem entirely convinced.

“Are you sure you're alright?” he asked.

“I'm okay. It's fine,” you repeated, trying your best to have your voice convey that it wasn't anything to worry about.

But it still didn't seem like he bought it.

He looked over to the clock, and then back to you.

“You're off the clock soon, correct?”

“Ah, yeah. Why?”

“I'd like to walk you home.”

“Oh.... Am I really worrying you that much?”

“A little bit,” he answered.

“Sorry.”

You wondered briefly if you should discourage him from doing that. If he needed to do some job after, you didn't want to create any issues in his schedule by having him take you home.

But he wouldn't be offering if it was an issue, right? And after the kind of day you'd had, spending a little more time with him sounded nice.

“As long as you're sure,” you told him.

“Of course,” he told you, “we can leave now, if you'd like.”

“Probably not,” you said, laughing a little, “I know I'll be dealing with a customer complaint tomorrow; I don't need to give my boss another reason to be mad at me.”

Bonolenov nodded, and then told you he'd be waiting for you outside once your shift was finished.

Less than ten minutes later, and the two of you were walking away from the now darkened music shop and making your way down the walkway while you passed by other businesses that had either closed for the night or were in the process of closing up shop.

He wasn't saying anything. You weren't sure what exactly to say in this situation, either. You didn't feel particularly compelled to go into what had happened to you hours earlier, but you weren't sure what to talk about now. Would it feel awkward if you tried to bring up a conversation about one of your usual subjects?

As you two walked, the city seemed oddly quiet, with only the occasional passerby while the two of you continued. It was a weeknight, you supposed, but even then, in a city like this, there was usually a fair bit of noise no matter what night it was. Maybe there was something going on that you weren't aware of.

“Would you like anything?”

Bonolenov speaking to you snapped you out of your thoughts, and you saw him nodding his head towards a vending machine that was to the side of the walkway. It was filled with various beverages, and while getting something to drink sounded nice enough, you were worried it would look like you were taking advantage of his kindness.

“You sure? You don't have to get me anything,” you said.

“I'm sure.”

“Um. Just a water then, I guess.”

He nodded, and as he began to make his selections, you walked over to the side of a nearby building, leaning against the wall and quietly sighing to yourself. The stress of the day already seemed to be leaving you, much to your relief. You didn't want to get too comfortable, of course, remembering the horror stories Kimber had told you about people getting snatched up by the mafia and being forced to work for them because they had lingered outside a bit too long during the evening hours. Even though you questioned those stories a bit more now, given how she and Rory seemed to dramatize things.

But even then, Bonolenov was with you, so you felt some security in the fact that you weren't alone.

He joined you soon after, handing you a plastic water bottle before standing next to you, unscrewing the cap off of a bottled tea that he'd gotten for himself.

“Thank you.”

You smiled up at him as you said that, and though you couldn't see it, you could sense that he was smiling back as he nodded at you.

It was a small thing for him to do for you, but it helped to make you feel better.

You had taken a swig of the water when you noticed one of his hands going up to the bandages on his face. Previously you hadn't even thought of how he was going to drink what he had bought for himself, and only now did it occur to you that the bandages would get in the way. Thoughts of it being rude to stare went out the window as you watched him pull the bandages around his mouth down slightly, and for the first time, you saw his mouth.

And the dark marks that were located above and below his lips.

Were those-?

He looked at you then, and you were reminded how impolite you were being as you dutifully turned your head away.

“Sorry. That – I'm sorry,” you stuttered out.

You heard him chuckle a little before he took a sip of his tea.

“It's fine,” he said after, “it would be strange if you weren't curious.”

Relief hit you that he hadn't been offended by it, and you glanced back over to him when you heard him say “you can ask me about it, if you wish.”

The bandages on his face were still askew, and you could still see some parts of the marks on his skin.

Yet the more you looked, the less they seemed like simple marks.

“Those marks,” you began, “are they actually... Holes?”

“Yes.”

That explained the bandages, then, and since his whole face was covered, you had to wonder just how much of his face was taken up by them.

“How did you get those?” was your next, more carefully worded question.

“It was tradition,” Bonolenov answered, “back when I lived with my tribe.”

“Your tribe?”

“The Gyudondond tribe.”

You stood there silent as Bonolenov continued “when the males turned three, needles would be placed into various areas of their bodies, and they would remain until they were replaced with thicker sticks. When we reached adulthood, the holes were used to produce a variety of sounds when they danced before battle. The Dancing Warriors.”

“.... Were you one of those warriors?” you asked.

“Once.”

His answer was only one word, and he sounded more wistful than you'd ever heard him.

“We lost our lands because of a company who wanted the area for development, and didn't care how we were removed, just so long as we were gone,” he continued, “I don't know if anyone else managed to survive. As far as I know, I'm the only one left.”

He took another swig of his drink, and you got the sense that he didn't want to talk about that subject for much longer.

You couldn't blame him. You could only imagine how painful it was to talk about something like that, to relive the circumstances that landed him to be where he was currently. Your own troubles seemed so petty and trivial by comparison, and you felt badly for making such a big deal over them.

“I'm so sorry,” you finally told him, “I can't even imagine what you've been through.”

“That's kind of you to say. Although I should be the one apologizing. It isn't right to dump that sort of thing on someone.”

“No, it's fine,” you said, “sometimes it's good to just let that sort of thing out. Not always great to just keep that sort of thing inside, you know?”

“I suppose that's true.”

It stayed quiet for a moment before you decided to ask another question.

“So, the records that you're looking for...?”

“Recordings of our tribe's music,” he clarified, “so far I've managed to find six.”

“Do you know how many were made in total?” you asked.

“I have a rough estimate,” Bonolenov said, “but I'm happy to have gotten the few that I have. If I can find any more, I'll collect them as well. It's nice to have some remnants of our music.”

“I'd love to listen to them.”

The words left your mouth and you were immediately hit with the thought that it was rude to presume that he'd let you listen to those records, especially since they were clearly important to him, so you added “as long as you'd be okay with that.”

Bonolenov seemed amused, however, and this time you were able to see the small smile on his lips as he said “maybe at some point.”

Soon after, he downed the rest of his tea and adjusted the bandages over his mouth. When he pulled out his phone to check the time, you got the sense that it was time for the two of you to move on.

“You don't need to walk me all the way back if you're busy,” you told him.

“No, I'm not busy. But it is getting late.”

With that, the two of you began walking again, and when you reached your apartment building, the mood you were in was considerably better than it had been earlier, and when you turned around as he saw you off, you meant it when you thanked him.

His face was completely covered again, but you could sense that he was once more smiling at you.

Bonolenov waited until he watched you enter the building before he left. And as he did so, he kept an eye on the windows that he knew were in the space of your unit, and felt some relief when he saw the darkened lights from within the apartment turn on. You'd made it back to your apartment safe, and for now, he had nothing to worry about.

As he walked away from the building, Bonolenov pulled his phone out of his pocket as he double checked the information Shalnark had sent to him. He'd been lying earlier when he told you that he wasn't busy, but since he wanted to wait for a bit before getting this job finished, he saw no issue in taking a bit of time in walking with you.

Glancing up at the street names, he followed the directions on his phone and began to make his way towards a residential area where he would find tonight's target.

His role within the troupe was best described as being the one to do the “odd jobs”. Assisting Kortopi with his counterfeits, cleaning up murder scenes with Shizuku or standing in for Chrollo whenever he was busy: whatever was needed of him, he would do it.

Including assassinations.

Of course, the regular hits were performed by other members of the troupe, by people like Phinks and Uvogin. Whenever Chrollo wanted to send a message out, the carnage that would be left in their wake was used to prove a point to whatever offending party had encroached upon the troupe in some way.

But whenever it came to the hits that Chrollo didn't want to be connected to the troupe, he would send Bonolenov.

The target for tonight was a journalist named Katherine Lane who had stepped on the troupe's toes one too many times, and since the woman hadn't taken any warnings to heart, Chrollo wanted her gone.

But he wanted it done quietly.

And that was why, in the late hour of the night, Bonolenov was now softly making his way into her backyard, climbing over the wooden fence and keeping his footsteps as silent as possible.

She lived alone and didn't have any boyfriend to speak of. Any chances of her entertaining a guest overnight seemed slim and she didn't own a dog or any sort of pet that could give him trouble once he entered the house.

No security systems in place, either. That had been surprising to him, but evidently she didn't spend that much time at her house, only coming back whenever she needed to sleep.

At least that fact worked out well for him as he picked the lock to the back door, opening it up as little as possible when he heard the way the hinges squeaked and side-stepping through the narrow opening.

Inside the house was dark, and he stood still for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust before he stepped forward as he recalled where the bedroom of the house would be located. It should be near the front.

That bit of information turned out not to matter, as Bonolenov noticed a person-sized shape sprawled out on the couch in the living area. There was enough light coming in from the outside to confirm his target.

She looked like she was still in her work clothes, like she had returned home and passed right out where she sat. He grabbed and pulled up her arm with as little force as possible, just in case she was a light sleeper. Though he kept a gun with him in case of emergencies, shooting her would be a poor move.

As was often the case with those who dealt with the news, flat-out killing the target would do more harm than good. With the subject that she had been reporting, if she was found murdered in her home, it would only strengthen whatever words she had written against the troupe and turn her into a martyr. Even trying to stage an accident of some kind could be seen as suspicious, but luckily Shalnark had come across some useful information when he had pulled the woman's medical records:

She had a history of heart problems.

Pushing up the long sleeve of her shirt, Bonolenov reached into his coat pocket and grabbed two things: a syringe and a vial of muscle relaxants. The drug was generally harmless, but if given in large enough doses it would lead to death. And the natural elements within the drug meant that once it entered the human body, it would disperse and become untraceable.

It was the best way to make it appear as though she had died from a case of heart failure.

Pulling the cap off of the needle and pushing it into the vial, he filled the syringe until he was certain that the dosage would be lethal, and he pocketed the vial before pulling her arm back up.

Pushing the needle into a prominent vein, he injected the contents of the syringe into her bloodstream, and when it was empty, he pulled it back out, pocketed it as well, and sat by the couch as he waited for her to die.

It didn't take long; soon enough, she made one loud, final gasp before she stopped breathing, and then stilled. Just to be sure, Bonolenov pressed two fingers against her throat and was satisfied when he felt no pulse.

As he ensured that both syringe and vial were in his pocket and couldn't be left behind as evidence, Bonolenov mused that this was one of the more peaceful deaths he'd granted. To let her die quietly in her sleep; not many who went against the troupe were granted such a mercy.

He stood back up, preparing to leave the home and head back to the Nitery before he noticed something on the floor next to the couch.

A single yellow rose with a small white ribbon tied around the stem. Given her position on the couch, she must have been holding it when she came in and then dropped it in her sleep.

Bonolenov found himself wondering if she had been out on a date before she came back. Although Shalnark had said that she didn't have any sort of significant other, so perhaps it was just a gift.

Well, it didn't matter much now.

But as he exited the house and jumped the fence once more, his thoughts on what his target had been doing during her last few hours of life then turned back to you and the time you had both spent together.

If you knew what he'd done just now, you would hate him, wouldn't you?

He wasn't sure why he had phrased the thought as a question: of course you would've hated him. Whatever flaws you may or may not have, there was no way you could be comfortable or accepting of the things he and the troupe did.

And for that reason, it was wrong of him to pursue you.

He was interested in you, and he was certain that you were interested in him as well. And your reaction to seeing that little bit beneath his bandages only solidified his belief that you were worth holding onto.

But having any kind of relationship with you would mean putting your life in danger. And especially if the relationship became a romantic one. If things went that far, he knew he'd be dragging you into the criminal underworld, and that world was ten times as cruel and harsh as the one you already lived in. If he continued to see you and let you go about your life as normal, then it would only be a matter of time before an enemy of the spiders caught wind of it and either captured or killed you just to try to get to him.

The only way to have you and keep you safe was to make you live with him and the rest of the troupe's darlings in the Nitery.

But if he went that far, you would never be able to return to the life you once had.

And you would certainly resent him for that fact.

A light drizzle of rain began to fall from overhead as he continued his walk to the subway station and only picked up slightly when he entered the underground tunnel through the cement stairs.

Just in time; his bandages did poorly against the rain.

The train ride back to the Nitery was silent save for the inevitable noise caused by the car's rickety wheels on the metal tracks. No one else who was out during the late hour had any desire to make conversation with anyone, and the ones who got too close to him were fast to relocate themselves away from him once they saw the bandages that covered his face.

After getting off the subway, he found that the rain hadn't yet reached the area around the Nitery, though when he looked up at the night sky, the dark clouds that were coming in was a sure sign that it wouldn't stay that way for long. Luckily the club that the troupe had turned into their home base wasn't too far away, and Bonolenov managed to make it in through a side entrance just as the rain began to fall outside.

Distant sounds of the night club's music vibrated through the walls as he made his way up a staircase that lead to the troupe's personal quarters. Hardly a night went by when the more legitimate business beneath their operations wasn't in full swing, but luckily Chrollo had taken that into account when the building had been designed as the area separating it and the floor above had been thoroughly soundproofed.

When he shut the door at the top of the stairs closed behind him, he could barely hear anything.

“Welcome back,” a voice called out to him.

Bonolenov looked to see Kortopi sitting atop one of the tables in the now empty bar area, different types of papers and pens scattered all around him as he set about forging whatever paperwork had been asked of him. Kortopi had his own desk in a work area near Shalnark's, but he had expressed to Bonolenov once that he preferred working in the bar after hours. Something about being able to spread out more.

“Evening,” Bonolenov greeted in response.

“How'd it go?” Kortopi asked.

“Katherine Lane is dead,” Bonolenov answered, “her body will be discovered at some point tomorrow, and the autopsy should find that she died from cardiac arrest.”

“Will they find her that fast?”

“She seemed like a workaholic; I'm sure her absence at her workplace will be noted quickly.”

Kortopi hummed as he nodded at the explanation.

“And what about you? What's all this?” Bonolenov asked, looking over a few of the pages.

“Something Shalnark dumped on me last minute,” Kortopi answered.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, that's okay. I should be finished soon. Besides, you just got back from a job. You should go rest.”

He didn't feel anywhere close to tired, but Bonolenov nodded anyway, walking past the table where Kortopi sat and heading towards the hallway where his room was located.

“Oh! Before you leave, you should know something,” Kortopi suddenly called out.

Bonolenov paused.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I overheard Shal talking with Pakunoda. They've noticed that you've been going out a lot recently.”

“And?”

“Boss'll probably talk to you about that soon.”

“Are you saying that they think I'm betraying them?”

“Of course not,” Kortopi replied, “if they thought that you'd be with Feitan right now. Just a matter of security, I think. You don't exactly blend in.”

“Neither do you.”

“I know. That's why I stay inside.”

As Kortopi reached across the table to grab a different pen, Bonolenov went over the information in his head. It was something that he'd been expecting, but he'd thought that he'd have a little more time.

“Why are you leaving so often, anyway?” Kortopi then asked, turning his attention back to the hitman, “you going on dates or something?”

Bonolenov thought to himself a moment before he answered with “I suppose it turned into something like that tonight.”

“... You're actually seeing someone?”

“Something like that,” Bonolenov repeated.

“Are you going to be moving someone in with you?”

“I'm not sure yet.”

“Huh.”

“Is that so surprising?” the hitman asked.

“A little, I guess. Didn't think you'd be up for that sort of thing,” Kortopi answered.

There wasn't any judgment in his voice. Just genuine surprise.

“There's a lot of things I didn't think I'd do before coming here,” Bonolenov replied.

The clock in the bar began to chime as the hour changed, and he left without another word, leaving Kortopi to his work.

Some time had passed since he began to meet with you regularly, but he'd been certain that he still had a while before your existence became known to the troupe.

Perhaps he'd underestimated just how good Pakunoda and Shalnark were at collecting information. Evidently he wasn't being as discreet as he'd thought he'd been; it was possible that the two of them were already aware of you. All it would've taken was for one of them to have him tailed on one of the nights he'd visited you at that shop, and it wouldn't be hard to guess as to what was going on if they learned he was visiting just for you.

Those two being aware wasn't the biggest issue, however.

If the troupe became aware of you, then it wouldn't be long before enemies of the troupe became aware of you as well, and as Bonolenov locked the door to his room behind him, he could imagine the sort of trouble you'd be in if your relation to him became public knowledge within the underworld and you weren't somewhere secure.

He let out a soft sigh as he began to remove his coat and hat, hanging them on the coat rack near the door.

Bonolenov had been aware that the time he had with you was short. Where no one knew of you and he didn't need to worry about you becoming a target. Just a small, simple relationship that revolved around a mutual appreciation of music.

But now that he had gone out in public with you, meeting with you outside of the music store, there were all manner of possibilities that he needed to face.

He made his way across the room and slumped down into his chair, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair as his eyes glanced over the room and lingered on the few pieces of memorabilia from his tribe that he'd managed to save. Outside the rain began to come down harder, the drops pattering against the windows.

He wondered if you were asleep right now.

Then his mind went back to the hit from earlier tonight, and the single rose he'd seen lying on the floor next to that woman. In his mind, it was a gift that had come from a potential lover of hers. Not someone that she had been with officially, but perhaps she had been working up to that point with that person.

And when he thought of the quiet way in which he had snuffed out her life, it wasn't hard to imagine someone else doing the same to you. And with the amount of enemies the troupe had, it seemed unlikely that you would get a death as peaceful as the journalist.

He shouldn't see you anymore. He should stop going out of his way to go to that music shop and exit your life completely so that you were no longer in danger. Continuing to see you out in the open was reckless, and ripping you away from the life you had was cruel. In terms of what was morally right, letting you go was the correct option. The life he lived wasn't one that he should subject you to.

His fingers tapped against the arm of his chair in contemplation and his eyes began to wander about the room again.

Bonolenov could easily see you in here.

Sitting on the couch with a book as you waited for him to return.

Approaching him after he came back and sitting on his lap while you gave him affection.

Trailing your hands over his record collection as you looked for one that you hadn't yet heard.

He focused on his records for a bit. You'd called it a hobby that required lots of space. That must have meant that with your current living arrangement, you didn't have the luxury of a fair amount of free space for whatever hobbies you might enjoy.

You'd also expressed an interest in listening to vinyls, and now that his train of thought was on that, he could easily picture the scene where the two of you listened to them together. Holding you close as the both of you listened to one of the many vinyls from his collection, just sitting and being there together.

And maybe if the mood was right, the two of you might dance together.

Did you know how to dance? It wasn't something that had been brought up, so he had no clue.

He could always teach you if you didn't.

The rain continued to fall as he thought to himself, remembering what Kortopi had told him. That Chrollo would likely speak to him soon.

If Shalnark and Pakunoda were aware of you, then they'd likely have already informed the boss. Chrollo would call him in so they could speak on what exactly they were going to do about you.

Bonolenov tapped his fingers against the armrest again, pretending to a nonexistent audience that he was still struggling with the decision, but internally, he had already made his choice.

He'd just need to work hard to make sure you would forgive him.

#yandere hunter x hunter #yandere x reader #reader insert #bonolenov x reader #bonolenov #yandere bonolenov #yandere #bonolenov ndongo #yandere hxh #mafia au #kortopi

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emsylcatac · 4 years

Text

I was in an Adrinette mood lately so have a silly fluffy Adrinette reveal fic for tonight! (again a big thank you to Bren & Alizeh for correcting my English hahaha)

Read it on AO3

* * * * *

“Can I borrow your ring?”

Adrien’s eyes snapped open. He had been about to fall asleep, sitting with his back against a tree and Marinette’s head resting in his lap, but now he was wide awake and not ready to rest calmly any time soon anymore.

“My ring?” he sputtered.

“Yes, your ring.”

Marinette kept her eyes on his hand, caressing it with her fingers, massaging it a little at times. He would have enjoyed it if she hadn’t so casually asked for his miraculous—not that she knew it was.

“Why would you want my ring?” he asked slowly after a pause; it wasn’t that he thought Marinette would steal it, but he was curious as to why she was taking an interest in it all of a sudden.

She kissed the tips of his fingers. “I don’t know. I like wearing your stuff.”

He relaxed a little and chuckled. “You’re already wearing my sweater.”

“Which is very comfy, by the way.”

She mimicked snuggling up into his dark sweater that she was wearing and he couldn’t help but smile fondly at her.

“A ring isn’t comfy, though.”

Marinette smiled at him and slightly pressed her fingers on his ring while letting her thumb caress the finger wearing it up and down.

“I would make wearing it comfy,” she said.

Adrien laughed and bopped her nose. “I have no doubt about that, but let’s not try with this one, okay?”

She pouted at him and took his hand back in hers, and circled his ring with her index.

“If you don’t let me borrow it, you’ll have to give me back my winter hat. The pink one.”

“Hey!” he said indignantly. “No. I love that hat. It has a fluffy and glittery pompom.” He bopped it to emphasise his point.

She giggled. “You’re wearing it so often and it’s not even winter.”

“More reason to keep it, I wear it more than you do!”

If he were smart enough, he could make her forget about the ring and drive the conversation away from it. There was only so much teasing could do before he had to really rack his brain for a plausible excuse as to why exactly he couldn’t lend her his ring.

Talking about the winter hat Marinette had lent him seemed like a good plan.

Marinette was smiling softly at him now. He let himself drown in her gaze a little, until she dramatically extended her arms towards him.

“Help me sit, Adrien!”

He snorted. “No.”

“Whaaat?” she whined. “I thought you were a gentleman!”

“Maybe. But you’re cute lying down in my lap so I want to keep you there a little longer.”

She blushed and bit her lip, looking conflicted. “Even if I just wanted to kiss you?”

Well, he couldn’t really argue with that. Mentally patting himself on the back for driving all her thoughts away from his ring, he finally relented and helped her sit up in his lap instead.

She brought a hand to his cheek and caressed it with her thumb, looking at him with eyes that didn’t leave him with much doubt as to her feelings. He brought her closer to him, his left arm securely wrapped around her waist.

“You know that I love you, right?” she whispered against his lips.

He smiled at the declaration. “Yeah… Yeah I know. And I, you.”

She giggled while capturing his lips with hers. Adrien really liked kissing Marinette, but he loved being kissed by her—she had this delicious way of being paradoxically shy but bold, gentle but firm, and controlled but wild.

As he was drowning at the end of her lips, he felt the fingers of her free hand tentatively lace through his.

It felt nice.

So he let her do it and shivered at the way her fingers tenderly stroked his, before carefully sliding away from his hand.

Marinette broke the kiss and he opened his eyes, still dazed, to meet hers that were full of mirth and—

“Aha!” she exclaimed. “Now I got your ring!”

Adrien’s eyes snapped to the ring she was now slipping on her finger, his ring, his now very much light pink ring and oh no.

He must have had a wide-eyed panicked face because Marinette’s expression suddenly turned apologetic.

“O-oh no, Adrien I’m sorry it was a joke I—wait. Wasn’t it sliver before?”

“I—” ...what? What could he reply to that? ‘I was so sure it was silver before too, Marinette! Wow we must both be colour blind, funny right?’ or ‘It’s a magic ring that changes colour depending on your mood! You know, the cheap ones you buy in tourist shops? Oh, why is it always silver for me? Because it’s as grey as my mood, courtesy of my dad, nothing to worry about!’

(Maybe this one excuse could work, all things considered).

But before he could voice any of it, Marinette frowned.

“Wait a minute. I’ve seen this somewhere before.”

Adrien startled. “You—you have?”

She took a sharp intake of breath and turned her gaze away from his ring to stare right at his face, an unspoken “no way” drawing at her lips that Adrien didn’t know what to make of.

She brought a tentative hand to his face, grazing it but not touching it, as if afraid something would change if she did.

Adrien didn’t dare move nor speak during all this time, in a way hypnotised by her actions and in another not knowing how to react to this turn of events.

She cast a furtive glance behind her, then took a sharp intake of breath and looked straight into his eyes.

“Plagg,” she murmured—and if Adrien’s eyes weren’t wide before, they definitely were now— “claws out.”

If he had had inspiration to think, and more importantly, to act, Adrien should probably have snatched the ring back from her hands the moment he had realised she had taken it.

But Adrien had panicked and Adrien wasn’t known to act smartly when panicked.

Now all he could do was watch and gape helplessly as his girlfriend transformed right in front of his eyes and looked like—

“Eeeeeh?”

She looked like Marinette. With the black cat miraculous.

...Ladybug. With the black cat miraculous.

He blinked. She blinked.

Oh.

It was her, wasn’t it?

He didn’t know if he was breathing too hard, or not at all; if he was hallucinating—dreaming—or not.

They kept staring at each other silently, though Adrien had no idea for how long—not that he cared about time at that moment.

Even if he hadn’t been expecting Marinette to transform right after stealing his ring, Adrien had even less been prepared to see a familiar masked face in her place. One that he had seen only once, and that his brain was still struggling to realise and piece.

But the image it was slowly coming with was one of the happiest he’d seen.

“Um,” he finally managed to speak, “kiss me again?”

With eyes still incredulously wide, and a fierce blush spreading on her cheeks, she yanked him by the collar and did just that. Hard.

#ml fanfic #adrinette #myshitwriting #adrien #marinette #lady noire #ladrien #?#identity reveal #mine #pre-reveal post-relationship

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btsslowburnfic · 3 years

Text

The Arrangement Chapter 9

Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: Getting your bearings at BigHit

Previous chapter here ---------------------------

It’s fine it’s fine, Yoongi kept repeating to himself this morning after you had left to go to the security office. I’m not even home that often, it’s not her fault. He slipped on a t-shirt and jeans and went downstairs. He put his dishes away and looked in the foyer. Two suitcases and a backpack were sitting there. He couldn’t believe this was all you had. That’s it. He sighed and picked up the bags, wheeling them over to the guest bedroom. He looked around the room and frowned. He would need to order a few more blankets. He took out his phone and ordered some quickly. He walked into the guest bathroom. No towels. He placed an order for those as well. Even if you ended up living somewhere else, it was good to have extra towels and blankets, he reasoned with himself.

He checked his calendar and yours. You should still be in the security office with Namjoon. He had already texted Hobi earlier.

Y:WTF dude, I thought you were my friend

JHOOOOOOPE: I brought a nice looking girl to your house, how is that not nice **angel**

Y: You can’t just drop someone off into someone else’s house without asking!

JHOOOOOOPE: It’s not my fault no one told you. I was told to deliver your new assistant to your apartment because you needed her to be available to whims at all times. I do what I’m told like every other person who works here. **shrug** it could be worse. I could use an assistant. Send her my way if it doesn’t work **Grin**

Y: >=(

Yoongi walked off the Elevator and saw Namjoon’s smug face there "What the hell is wrong with you?" Yoongi growled, walking up to him. He was surprised he didn’t see you anywhere.

"Not now Yoongi, I have a meeting in 15 minutes." Namjoon sighed. That fucking prick.

"You just dropped a girl into my house without telling me and think I'm not going to have something to say about it?"

"You knew she was starting today. You agreed that the two of you were going through with all of this. What did you think that meant? Huh?" Namjoon said, almost bored.

"Why don't I get a say in any of this?" Yoongi raised his voice, exasperated.

"You did. You picked her." Namjoon said calmly as he pushed the up button on the elevator.

"This is such bullshit!" he yelled. You walked around the corner, surprising him.

The elevator for Namjoon arrived and he got on it, not bothering to look back.

You walked closer to Yoongi. "Hey. I'm sorry this was a surprise for you. It was to me too. I thought I would be in a dorm with a bunch of other girls." You gave him a sympathetic look.

He took off his hat and ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry it's not you. It's just...ughhh…" He put the hat back on.

"Really. It's fine. It seems like Namjoon isn't interested in our opinions though, huh? I'm a good roommate. I'm quiet and I clean up after myself. And I can cook."

Yoongi wasn’t angry at you, so his feelings had morphed into pouting at this point. "It's fine I put your bags in the guest bedroom." He pushed a button on the elevator. He sighed

"Thanks Yoongi." you said, standing next to him.

“And I can cook too. So don’t think that’s part of your job or anything.”

“Now what kind of wife would I be if I didn’t cook for you,” You teased as the doors opened up. You were surprised to see him blushing. He hit the button for the 12th floor, feeling like a total idiot.

You looked so cute and professional. He tried to not think about the fact you had seen him in his underwear that morning. He looked down, mumbling something, hoping you wouldn’t notice how embarrassed he was. He was eager to just get to his studio. He understood abstractly that the two of you would be spending time together but now that it was actually happening, he felt awkward and shy. And vaguely annoyed by everyone else. He got off the elevator with you following. “What are you doing exactly?” He turned and asked.

“I’m your assistant. I’m supposed to help you. Do I have a desk or anything? There wasn’t really an orientation. There isn’t anything on the calendar for the rest of the day.”

“Oh. Ok. Umm take the rest of the day off…? Go unpack?” He shrugged.

You scowled. “That doesn’t seem particularly helpful especially since you want me to move out.”

Yoongi sighed and continued to move down the hallway, “You don’t need to do that. There,” he pointed. “That’s Jiwoo. She’s the office manager for this floor. Ask her if she knows anything. I need to get to my studio.”

You had so many more questions but you didn’t want to bother Yoongi.“Ok. See you later.” You turned and walked over to the woman he had indicated to.

Yoongi continued on to his studio. He had no idea if you had a desk or not. He hadn’t really put thought into it. He cursed himself for not thinking to ask Namjoon about any of this. He detested appearing as though he didn’t know something, which unfortunately meant he hadn’t asked questions when he should have. Oh well. He hoped Jiwoo could straighten it out. Otherwise he would later today. He typed in his pass code and walked into his studio. Fortunately he felt inspired this morning and went straight for his notebook.

“Hello. Excuse me?” You said as you walked up to the desk of the woman who had been identified to you as the office manager. She appeared to be older than you; her hair cut into a bob, she also had super cute glasses. She looked up.

“Yes, can I help you with something?”

“I’m Mr. Min’s new assistant, [Y/N]. Today is my first day and nobody really seems sure what to do with me.”

She laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. They all do a great job with the big picture around here. But the details? That’s my specialty.” She stood up. “Follow me. Your desk is over here, near the lounge area. It’s a little noisy, but it’s across from the coffee maker. Which is important because Min Yoongi loves coffee.”

“Yes, thank you. That is like one of the only things I do know.” You smiled, grateful for any help.

“You don’t have a company laptop yet. I would expect it by Monday. You can do most things via the App though. If something does come up, let me know and we can work something out. Now, if you walk around the corner here,” she led the way. “We have some empty studios. If you ever need to rent space for any reason, they are available under the App. Mr. Min has his own studio so you shouldn’t need to book any spots unless you are helping with a collaborator. Speaking of, here is his studio. Good luck with that.” She pointed down to the doormat which had a cat flipping you both off. You laughed. You looked at the plate by the door. “Min Suga. Genius Lab.”

“Humble. Nice.” You pointed at the placard.

“He is really good though.” She said thoughtfully. She began to move down the rest of the hallway, pointing out the restrooms and arriving back at her desk. “Also, don’t wait up on him. He’s in there most of the time. Follow your calendar. If you try to follow his, you’ll never sleep or you’ll end up with a sleeping disorder. Seriously. He sleeps in there sometimes.” She sat back down at her desk.

Your eyes bugged out a little bit at this. Damn that was some dedication. You hoped he at least had a futon in there then. Jeeze. “Alright. Thanks so much. I appreciate it.”

You almost wished you would have kept your desk plant now, looking at the empty space. You had a few office items in the bags in Yoongi’s house but nothing really worth going back for. A message popped up on your phone. **ORDER READY MIN YOONGI #2983627** You clicked on it. Apparently there was an order at the store ready for Yoongi. Because there was a store in the company building. Huh. Ok. I guess this is part of my job now. You looked up where the store was and headed down to the 2nd floor. It appeared to be a multipurpose grocery and home-goods store with also a few clothing items. Looking around you found the *Pick up online order* section and walked over. You queued up and recognized the perfectly coiffed blonde hair of Namjoon’s assistant.

You gave him a light tap on the shoulder. “Hey!”

Jimin turned around, surprised to see the girl from the interview last week standing behind him. “Hey you.” He smiled, “so you got the job?”

You nodded. “Yep. Sorry again about last week. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He laughed, his eyes turning into adorable crescent-moons “I’m sorry I literally yelled “shit” at you. So I think we’re even.” He stuck out a hand, “Park Jimin. Nice to officially meet you.” You shook it. “I see you have figured out some stuff. You’ll be on the 14th floor with Yoongi right?”

“Yep. I just got my desk. That’s it. The rest of the day doesn’t have anything and he hasn't given me anything to do yet.”

Jimin turned to move forward in line, with you following suit. He turned back, “Well Yoongi hasn’t had an assistant before but if he’s anything like Namjoon he’ll figure out a million things for you to do soon. Once they get used to it they forget how to even use food delivery apps or how to do their own laundry.” He shook his head. “To clarify: I don’t do his laundry. I coordinate the dry cleaning.”

“And here I was imagining you washing Namjoon’s undies.” You teased, causing him to laugh some more.

“Noooo stop. I don’t want that mental image.” Jimin licked his lips. “If you’re not doing anything later you should join me and Tae for drinks. Not at Club Tokki.” You raised your eyebrows. “Sorry, I peeked at your resume. Think about it and let me know.” He cut the conversation short as it was his turn in line. He concluded his business at the counter quickly. He turned around, carrying a few paper bags. “I’ll see you around.”

You waved, “Alright, I’ll text you about later.” It felt so nice to be included on your first day. He seemed fun. You stepped up and held the QR code up for them to scan. You were handed two paper bags and a larger plastic one. You took them and stepped aside, reading the stapled receipt paper. **PINK TOWELS X 4** on one of the bags. **QUEEN SIZE BLANKET WHITE X 2** on the larger one. He bought me blankets and towels!?!?! You took the bags back to the apartment. Yoongi had taken your bags and put them nicely in the corner of your room. You were pretty sure this stuff was for the guest bedroom and bathroom but you didn’t want to seem presumptuous.

YN: Hey! I picked up your order from the store. Where should I put the towels and blankets?

You waited a few minutes, unpacking one of your bags.

Y: Those are for you. The washing machine is upstairs in the hallway.

YN: Thank you so much. Pink is my favorite color!

Y: :]

You went and started a load of towels and continued to unpack. Holy shit. This was weird. You went back upstairs with the blankets. The upstairs loft area had a more lived in feel to it, with blankets strewn over a black couch, a large tv, and a video game system. There was also a keyboard in the corner. There was a short hallway containing a closet and the washer and dryer. You assumed the door at the end of the hallway led to his room. You were a very private person yourself, so you weren’t about to intrude on that. You honestly felt weird being in the loft area, it felt as though the lower level was for show and this was where Yoongi actually lived.

You moved some more laundry around and decided to head back to the office. You still weren’t sure about joining Jimin for drinks tonight. You decided you would wait and see what the laundry status was. You set a timer on your phone and went back to the office. You stopped by the lounge area and made a coffee for yourself while preparing a coffee for Yoongi. Another ping on your phone.

***EVENT ADDED SATURDAY 6 PM***

Retirement Party for Lee Soobin Akioko Flame Restaurant

The espresso stopped dripping. You added the water and then poured it over ice. You walked over to the studio and gave the door a knock. No answer.

You huffed in slight irritation while trying to get your phone out one-handed.

YN: It’s me. I have coffee.

Y: Leave it by the door.

YN: :( But someone could kick it over

Yoongi took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Y: Give me a minute.

He got to what he deemed was a good stopping point and walked over to the door, opening it the slightest bit.

“Here you go.” You handed him the iced coffee.

He took it, eyeing you suspiciously. “What?” You said, exasperated. You had lovingly hand-crafted this brew.

“You like shitty coffee so I’m worried.” He took a sip. His eyebrows went up. “This is not shitty. This is good. Where did you get it from?” He noticeably relaxed, the doorway opening slightly more.

“I made it using the espresso maker in the break room.” You said. “I worked in a coffee shop before I was old enough to work in bars. Shitty coffee has to do more with sleep deprivation than actual preferences.”

“True true.” He said, his lips pouting as he took another sip. The sound of a phone ringing in the studio cut through the air. He scowled, making no attempt to answer it.

“Is that your work phone?” You asked.

“Yes. I imagine it’s Jimin or one of BPD’s assistants.”

“So...shouldn’t you answer it?” You asked.

Yoongi shrugged and walked into his office, not bothering to shut the door. You took this as a slight invitation and followed him in. You took a brief look around before the phone rang again and you identified it’s location. You walked over and picked it up. “Genius Lab. This is [Y/N] speaking.”

Yoongi turned around to ask what the fuck you were doing but then you had sounded so professional, he just plopped down in his work chair instead, a dumbfounded look on his face.

“I’m not sure. I’ll find out and get back with you. What’s the number?” You took out your phone and typed the information in. “Ok yes. Thank you.” You hung up the phone.

“What are you doing exactly?” He asked. You weren’t sure if he was angry, amused, or confused. He was difficult to read sometimes.

You smirked. “Being your assistant. Would you like me to have this phone forward to mine so it doesn’t ring in here?”

Yoongi’s eyes grew slightly wider, “You can do that?”

“Yep. There’s an app for it.” You responded, happy some of your previous office experience actually translated to this position.

“Yes. Please God yes.” He said quickly.

You laughed, setting up the forwarding application. You picked up the phone to see what the number of the studio was. “Alright. I can at least triage some of the calls for you.” You said, satisfied with yourself. “Also. Ew.” You eyed a few take-out containers and coffee cups. “I’m coming back for...this.” You gestured to the room and excused yourself to get a trash bag.

Yoongi sat there slightly dazed. He rarely let anyone into his studio and yet you had just come in, fixed his phone anxiety issue, and also scolded him. He scrolled through his phone, seeing the event on Saturday. It was annoying but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with you and J-Hope there. Maybe. Even if it all was a stupid pretend performance.

You retrieved a trash bag from the break room and came back. You started cleaning without saying anything. It was becoming obvious that Jiwoo had spoken the truth, Yoongi really did spend most of his time in here. You made your way around the surfaces, throwing trash away. To your shock, Yoongi just sat there, drinking his coffee and scrolling through his phone.

“Thanks again for the towels and blankets. It was very thoughtful of you.”

“No problem.”

“Are we going to the party on Saturday?”

Yoongi looked up at you, “Sure.”

And just like that, you had committed to your first event at BigHit. “Alright, I’ll let Jin know.”

Yoongi shifted in his seat slightly, “is that who called?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Has he hit on you yet?”He asked casually, belying the fact that he was actually very interested in how you would react to the infamous flirt.

You giggled. You were almost all the way done tidying up. “Of course. Have you seen his face? He had to let me know how in demand it is at all times.” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, him and Namjoon stopped by the bar last week. Idiots.”

“Agreed.” Yoongi felt his body become more at ease with your answer. He didn’t know why he cared.

You looked around the spartan room. “Alright. I’m all done. Do you need anything else?”

Yoongi put his phone down. “Just to get back to my writing.”

You were so very curious but you didn’t want to intrude. “Sure thing. See you later.” You picked up your trash bag and left the room, shutting the door behind you. You were honestly surprised at how easy your day had been so far. You sat the trash bag down by your cubicle, unsure of where to deposit it. A text to Jiwoo about the dumpster and an RSVP to Jin about the party on Saturday and your day was almost done. You dropped the garbage off on your way to the apartment to switch out laundry. You were getting tired.

YN: Hey! I’m going to take a rain check for tonight. I am so tired and I still need to unpack ;-; I do want to though, so don’t think I’m blowing you off. Lunch tomorrow?

JM: Shit I totally forgot you would need to unpack and everything. Sorry. No worries. Also, check your schedule, we have a huge design meeting around lunch time so they will most likely have it catered. I’ll buy you a drink on Saturday if you actually get Yoongi to attend.

You raised your eyebrows. It was on the schedule clear as day, on you and Yoongi’s calendar. Why wouldn’t he attend?

YN: Of course he’ll be there. Why wouldn’t he be?

JM: HAHAHAHA good luck. See you tomorrow!

It was already after five so you didn’t bother going back down to the office. You finished the laundry and finished your unpacking. And then you stood in the apartment just staring. The sun had gone down and the windows had a lovely view of the city. You could see part of the river and one of the many lit up bridges. You turned on the kitchen light. Shit. You had no idea what the food situation looked like here. Your stomach growled. You took some rice out of the cooker, leaving enough for Yoongi and sat at the countertop.

You opened up your personal email. You had paid the dorm deposit for your brother, using your “disappear in the middle of the night and change your name again” emergency fund to pay for it. It had scared the shit out of you to pull all your money from savings and you still were secretly afraid that the job was lying about how much money it would pay you. Before you knew it, it was 9.

YN: Hey, I ate some of the rice but I don’t want to just go through your kitchen. Do you want me to order or make anything?

No response. Ok. He was probably busy. You rifled through the cabinets. If his office was any indicator there should be at least a few ramyeon packs you could eat and replace. Bingo. You made a spicy prawn one and texted one more time.

YN: I owe you a spicy prawn ramyeon pack. Thanks again for everything. See you tomorrow.

You set the coffee maker for the next day and brush your teeth. You nestled into your new bed complete with one of your new fluffy blankets. You couldn't remember the last time you had your own bedroom. It was before your sister was born. The two of you had always shared a room. And then 7 years ago you started sharing a room with her and your niece. You took a deep breath, feeling as though you were letting 7 years of bullshit go all at once. If only it were all so simple. NEXT CHAPTER @lidda @anpanman-sonyeondan @firefairy1 @cuteipat @sugaslittlekookies @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny

#bts fic #BTS suga #bts scenarios #bts suga x you #suga x you #suga x reader #suga x y/n #yoongi scenarios #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts yoongi x reader #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts writing

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

Note

Odd-ish question. Imagine, if you will, that a new The Shadow film or prestige TV Series is being made. In your head, what's the trailer?

I gotta say, it was rather disheartening to learn in film school that most directors/producers/showrunners don't actually get to have much say in how their work is promoted, because, at least as far as I know, that stuff is outsourced to a separate team. I mean, I get why this happens, it's ultimately for the best, but it's still kind of a bummer to me personally since I do like making trailers and teasers (I do make my living as an editor and all).

I'm not gonna get too into what I imagine said trailer to be like, because it's one of those things I'd rather keep to myself until I get to make something of it, but I will talk a bit about how I think a marketing strategy for a new Shadow film or series could be like.

First and foremost, I think anyone who wants to tackle The Shadow, even just to promote him, has gotta understand what about the character works, what influenced his creation, what's he got that can be promoted, what can grab audiences, what can get them to stay, and so on. "Fandoms" nowadays rule the way media is consumed and sustained, and you see it especially in modern cartoons that live or die on the audience's devotion. That is one of the reasons why I made this blog, because I want the character to thrive again and I want to provide people with a catalogue of information they can dig into.

The Shadow was, for a decade and then some, arguably the biggest crimefighter of American media, figurehead of not just one but TWO mediums, and the only reason he existed at all was because Street & Smith's marketing ploy for a faceless narrator turned out far more successfully than they could have anticipated. That he's survived the total downfall of American pulps and decades of mismanaged adaptations, as still one of the most famous of all pulp heroes, is testament to how strong the original concept still is, the appeal the character held. I made this post partially to highlight that.

And first and foremost, is to build up the character. Take advantage of the fact that the general audiences only have the vaguest idea of what this guy is like, and treat him not like an old character making a comeback, but like he's about to debut for the first time. As I mentioned prior, 1930s radio audiences were enthralled by The Shadow not just because he was the most interesting part of the stories he was promoting, but because he was completely unlike every other narrator in radio at the time, a hissing disembodied voice taunting and cackling malevolently, taunting and daring you.

Think of the marketing strategy for Godzilla 1998, and the waves it made as, instead of just plastering images of the monster front and center, they built up the idea of Godzilla through ads like these, instilling in your head the concept of an unfathomably large monster trodding it's way into the city and wreaking devastation with every footstep, even if you couldn't see what it actually was. It was a particularly genius move because even at this point, most Americans had at least a slight idea of what Godzilla was, or they were at least familiar with the concept through parody or pop culture osmosis. So what the marketing did was break down and fragment the Godzilla concept, and gradually put it back together under the heads of viewers. The movie sucked, mind you, and that reinforces my point: It didn't turn a profit based on it's stellar critical reputation or a prior American following for Godzilla, it turned a profit because the marketing was that good.

Joker is another example of a movie that managed to do well by essentially "re-selling" you it's titular character and through incredible marketing. IIf the idea seemed beyond stupid and unnecessary to most people at first, the Joker trailer did such a fantastic job at selling people on the concept that it immediately turned a lot of heads around. In fact, the trailer was so good, I suspect most people who went into the movie already had made up their minds on it's contents based entirely on the trailer, but I digress.

The film dissassembled the Joker bit by bit, both in marketing as well as it's story, and gave each of it's pieces it's own story. From the laughter as a replacement for tears, to the clown paint starting off as a form of confinement until it replaces the face of the broken man within, to even elements such as the green hair, gaunt physique and fondness for colored suits, all of these got a story, all of these had a "hook", all of these were given significance separate from the history of the character as a franchise supervillain, all of these were made interesting in ways people would be interested in learning more about. Why does The Joker laugh? Why is crying? What's "Arthur" like? What's he gonna do on the show? What the hell is this film going to have to do with Batman?

It got people talking and asking questions, and that's exactly what you want your audience to do. Even for a character as old and overexposed as the Joker, the movie still succeded, at least in marketing, in presenting as if we were going to see him for the first time, to the point all the film needed to secure it's Batman connection was just the name.

And Street & Smith was doing this even back then, when they were in the middle of transitioning The Shadow from radio narrator to pulp crimefighter. They started putting out shows where The Shadow would take a more active role, they started getting him to show up in other programs, they put out this contest where they gave out small lines where The Shadow told a detail about himself, and listeners had to piece it together. The radio show was told as if The Shadow was a real, active person, and this was something carried over to the pulps. This was, mind you, before Walter Gibson got to touch the character, but it shows that right upfront, Street & Smith knew how to market this character effectively, through mystery and build-up. I think there are ways to do that nowadays even besides the usual avenue of teasers and trailers.

And if I was going to make a trailer, if I was in charge of designing a marketing strategy or video and so on for The Shadow, this is what I think needs to be emphasized.

None of the promos show his costume in full. We get glimpses of it, like a slouch hat and red scarf abandoned in the middle of a square as a public ad, intense eyes leering over an urban landscape for a poster. A popular podcast gets hijacked in the middle of an ad break for The Shadow, and they act like nothing happened. An entire teaser goes by, and in it, all you see from him in costume is a hand with a Girasol Ring. We don't know who is the actor who's gonna be playing him, we hear laughs in the ads but never a speaking voice. A different rumor is confirmed every week.

The trailers show us scenes of agents interacting, policemen looking for him, criminals hurting others only to run terrified. All sorts of cryptic remarks, or terrified statements. We get an image of Harry Vincent standing on a bridge with gloved hands holding him, and to people unfamiliar, they think The Shadow's about to throw this guy off a bridge, and the fans know better.

Some people think this is all unnecessary, I mean, they know who The Shadow is, he's a 30s radio vigilante who inspired Batman and who Alec Baldwin played once. He's got a girlfriend named Margo, he shoots people. What's the point of all this?

And then The Shadow starts to show up a bit more, and he does the things that people seem to forget he's capable of, for good and bad. And gradually, the trailers and teasers and ads start to unveil just how little general audiences really know The Shadow. And, hopefully, they start wanting to learn more.

#replies tag #the shadow #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #joker #godzilla

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spartanxhunterx · 4 years

Text

Bug And Shell(d): Stoneheart

tags: @death-by-ladybug, @anti-hero650, @validate-me-please, @latchycat, @seraphichan @justheredreamin @imnotjealousjustgay @flimango @fer1521 @bronwynsfandoms @your-bro-bronwyn @sweenyalice @heldtogetherbysafetypins @queenofnot @dur55

If anyone else wants to be tagged let me know.

"The stone beings are scattered all over Paris, and for the time being, they are showing no signs of movement. Police have cordoned off the area."

Nino sighed as he watched the morning news, seeing the pictures of the stoneheart copies being stuck like statues. Each image a reminder of his and ladybugs failure yesterday.

This wasn't what was supposed to have happened, everything was supposed to have been fixed, not made worse. And he couldn't blame anyone but himself, it was his job to help Ladybug, if she didn't remember something it was his job to remind her.

So when he too forgot. Then he too had failed, failed Ladybug, failed Paris.

"We won't stop until we find a way to get these people back to their normal selves, but for now, we're not making much headway."

Neither was he, but hearing the mayor say he was doing everything he could was a little comforting, even if he knew it was pointless. Wayzz had said that only ladybug could fix the damage done by Akuma's and she needed the original Akuma to do so.

"Paris is relying on our new guardian angels, ladybug and Carapace, to save us all. Our lives depend on them."

So far there was nothing that could be done unless Ivan got re-akumatised into stoneheart, only then could he and Ladybug capture the Akuma.

It was a complicated procedure that shouldn't have to happen, if only they had been more observant the first time around.

" Nino? " the boy in question looked down to his younger brother, seeing him look up to him with eyes filled with wonder and childlike innocence, yet fear too.

His older brother instincts kicked in and he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "What's up little dude?"

" Are... Do you think they can fix this? "

Nino blinked before he realised what he was on about. "You mean Ladybug And Carapace?" Seeing his brother nod Nino quickly enveloped him in a one armed side hug. " Oh don't worry about it dude, I'm sure, wherever they are, they're trying to fix this right now. "

"You think so?"

" I know so. " Nino spoke factually, messing up his brothers hair. "I have full faith that the hero's are going to fix this, so don't you worry."

For what choice did Nino really have? He was chosen to be Carapace, chosen to be a hero. He had to fix this, if not for his own sake then the well-being of all those who were being affected right now.

"Chris come on, let's go." Their mother called and he had to suppress a chuckle at seeing Chris deflate.

His brother had really hoped for his school to be shut down with everything that was going on. Not that his school was in danger, no, it was far away enough to be considered out of the way.

"Nino, make sure you leave on time, a lot of roads are closed cause of those statues."

" You got it mom. "

Nino waited until he heard the door shut until he let out a defeated sigh, turning off the TV before he could see anymore of his failures.

"Please don't beat yourself up master Nino, no-one is perfect."

He looked up to see Wayzz sitting on the table, having come out after his family had left, munching on some of the fruit pieces he had been slowly munching on.

"I know Wayzz but," Nino sighed as he shook his head. " You told me to help Ladybug and Ladybug said her Kwami told her to capture the Akuma, but me not remembering or reminding her that. I've failed Paris, failed you. "

"Nonsense, I could not be more proud to call you one of my hatchlings." Wayzz floated up, then landed on his knee, a grape held in his nubby hands. " besides, one cannot improve if they do not fail. "

"One does not learn through success but from failure. Already you have learnt a valuable lesson, Capture the Akuma, your next failure will teach you something as well. Master ."

" how very inspiring Wayzz. " Nino flinched at the bluntness in his tone before he cast an apologetic look to the Kwami. "Sorry."

He stood up and moved to his room, leaving Wayzz to float around as he pleased. As much as Wayzz was speaking the truth he didn't want to think about his next failure, or even the idea of failing from now on. Sure he had to learn but he shouldn't need to fail to do so.

As he scooped up his bag his eyes caught onto the inside, seeing the crumbled remains of his headphones, the events of yesterday had made him completely forget about getting replacements, not that he could do so quickly anyway.

Dumping his bag out into his desk he rearranged everything so he only had the essentials, trying to leave a large space for Wayzz to sit in comfortably. However, he didn't like the idea of him staying in there all the time, just in case he got separated from his bag, he needed Wayzz closer to him and he didn't want to leave him in his hat all the time.

People would notice it was crooked. Moving to his closet he opened it up and began to shift through everything, bypassing the T-shirts all of them the exact same until he came to the few jackets he owned.

There was a long sleeve white fleece jacket, a black bomber jacket, a brown hoodless jacket and...

Nino pulled out the green short sleeve zip up hoodie, seeing dark green octagons on the shoulders and elbows, the zip had the same dark green bordering it, a large pocket was on each side of the zip and the baggy hoody was hanging off the neck.

it was a gift from Marinette on his fourteenth birthday. It was a few sizes too big, or it had been, he had grown a little since he got it. Aside from a few occasions he hardly wore it. He opened the jacket by undoing the zip and peered inside, yep, right there were two large pockets on each side.

it was perfect.

Slipping it on he left the zip undone, it was beginning to reach warmer weather but there was enough of a chill in the air to justify wearing it. He adjusted the hood so it was open behind his neck before he picked his bag up and strung it over his shoulder, letting the bag rest on his hip.

Stepping out of his room he caught Wayzz finishing off the last of the fruit, for such a little guy he certainly could eat.

"You ready to go buddy?" Nino picked up his lunch from the counter along with a few packets of mixed fruit.

"Yes Master." Nino frowned as he zipped up his bag.

" Dude, I know you mean well. But please don't call me that, it makes me feel old. "

Wayzz chuckled as he floated up to him. "Of course, apologies, it is a habit I find hard to break."

" You're good little dude. " He opened up his jacket, revealing the pockets and Wayzz was quick to settle into one of them, now he wouldn't have to worry so much about losing him. Making sure his hat was on properly he left his house.

Once outside he began to make his way to school, he let his shoulders relax and kept his eyes open on where he was going. He wasn't exactly expecting Stoneheart to drop down in front of him but after yesterday he couldn't exactly ignore the possibility.

He eventually found himself stepping around to the street that had his school and he picked up his pace, at best he would get through today fine but, given that Ivan was their classmate, everyone would be talking about what happened yesterday... Right in front of Ivan too.

Hell, Ivan would be the center of attention today whether he liked it or not and who knew what he was feeling. He picked up his pace and before he knew it he was already through the doors. Eyes scanning left and right, seeing that school was just beginning to fill out properly.

His eyes landed on the hulking frame of Ivan, who was slouched on the bench, head down and eyes cast to the ground. Fortunately he was alone, unfortunately he didn't look to be in a good mode.

Call him selfish but he didn't want Ivan to be akumatised again, not because he didn't want everything to be fixed but because he didn't want Ivan to go through that again. He already looked defeated enough as it was and it hadn't even been a day yet. He stepped closer until he was before him, realising that Ivan wasn't paying attention he sat next to him and waited.

it was only when he looked towards Nino that Nino looked back. "You alright dude? You look a little... Grim?"

Ivan sighed, hand dragging along his face. "I don't know, it's weird."

"About yesterday?" He saw him nod and he couldn't blame Ivan for not wanting to talk about it. It was unclear what he was feeling or even how he was responding to everything. "Hey, don't worry about it too much, I know it must be... Confusing but I don't think you're at fault for this."

"You don't? " Ivan sounded surprised and Nino suspected it was because he wasn't expecting anyone to say what he said. Or at least defend him in some way.

"Of course not, if you were going to blow your top it would be because of Chloé and her... Well Chloé being Chloé I suppose, not to mention, if everything that happened yesterday came from you... We would have seen it a lot sooner."

Ivan huffed, and Nino was left with the impression that he had said the wrong thing. Still he made the decision to stay where he was, just so Ivan knew he at least had Nino as silent support.

"Yo! Ivan." Nino winced as Alix skated up to them, he silently hoped that she wouldn't start anything. The pink haired girl was normally pretty chill but had her aggressive streak when pushed. He hoped for Ivan's sake she was in a chill mood today.

"Alix. Don't." Alix at least had the dignity to look affronted and held her hands up defensively.

"Hey, I'm just checking in." Well that wasn't too bad at least. "Need to know if he's gonna go Rocky Road Reject on us."

" Alix! " It was bad enough to hear the same insult that he had said, in the heat of the moment, but to hear it be used against Ivan was worse. "Not cool Dude. That was uncalled for."

" What? Just making sure we're safe. " Nino clenched his jaw, this was the opposite that he wanted to happen, this would stress Ivan out and he would get re-akumatised.

He could tell it was going to be made worse by the approaching group of Kim, Juleka, Rose and Max. Nino sent his own silent pleas to them to not cause anything but it seemed the prospect of talking to Ivan was too tempting.

Hell, even Chloé had moved closer, leaning herself against the beam with Sabrina next to her, holding her bag for her.

Ivan seemed to pick up on the negativity too, as he huffed while looking away. "Guys, Don't."

" What happened yesterday man? " Nino was seriously going to smack Kim upside the head, the jocks indignation be damned.

"Kim." It seemed Nino's words were falling on deaf ears today as no-one responded to him.

" I don't know. " Ivan looked so beaten down right now, with the way his shoulders were hunched and he was trying to make his large frame look small.

"You have to admit it is strange, people don't just become Rock monsters in a day." For once, Nino actually glared at Max and it seemed he took notice of him, finally. Whatever words were on his tongue died as he nervously cleaned his glasses. "So clearly we're missing a lot of important information, I just wanted to ask you about it."

" There's nothing to tell, I don't even remember anything. " that seemed to get everyone's attention as their faces relaxed, although Nino quickly noted that Chloé didn't seem to do the same. Granted she didn't look like anything other then relaxed already.

"Wait," Alix seemed to pause, as if contemplating what she should say. "So you really don't remember anything? At all?"

"You were totally going ballistic." Nino sent an annoyed look to Juleka , seriously her too? She seemed to take his pointed look in stride, not even flinching.

Ivan was halfway through shaking his head when Kim stepped up closer, not aggressively but certainly far from calm. "You were seriously out to crush me dude!"

Missing the way Ivan looked towards Mylene, who was standing a little away from the group, Nino stood until he was between Kim and Ivan. "Maybe he wouldn't have been like that if you didn't antagonize him yesterday, what did you even do?"

"Its nothing Nino." The Moroccan boy looked back to the class giant, finding to odd that he was telling him to not worry. "I'm sorry Kim... I wasn't myself..."

The disbelieving, antagonizing scoff that came from behind them was enough to set Nino's gutt off, he was quick to turn to Chloé, who he had been graciously ignoring to not start anything with her himself.

"Once a monster, always a monster." Nino hardly had time to retort before Iavn had gotten up with a huff, shoulder checking him as he stalked past and away from everyone else. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out!" She called after him, hardly looking up from her manicured nails.

"Really Chloé?" The blonde didn't even look up at him but Sabrina certainly sent a smug look his way.

" plu-ease, I'm not wrong. "

"Oh yes you are!" Nino blinked as Alya stepped up to Chloé, not at all bothered about getting close to the mayor's daughter. "How could you say that to Ivan? You're the real monster."

"Ugh, so I'm the one who broke Sabrina's dad's arm am i?" As much as Chloé was a brat she often had good points when it came to her arguments but Nino wasn't going to hold it against Ivan. Given that he was under mind control. "Just because your footage of those lame superheroes was shown on Tv, doesn't mean you have to get so high and mighty."

Chloé blew the wad of gum in her mouth to form a bubble between the two girls faces, who had gotten quite close to each other, until it popped in alya's face. "Why you Little..."

"Look out, she's angry! She's going to split her underwear and turn into a huge muscly monster." Chloé snickered as Alya walked away in her own huff, would she be akumatised as well? Could there be two at once? Nino didn't know and he certainly didn't think to ask Wayzz before.

" Hey Chloé. " Whatever was going to happen came to halt as Chloé seemed to light up in delight , actual delight, as she turned to the source of the voice. Nino could hardly see the head of Blonde hair before Chloé had jumped onto them.

That was enough for Nino to know that whoever they were, they had enough familiarity with Chloé to actually choose to be around her. And that was bad enough in Nino's eyes.

"Hey is that Adrien?"

" Adrien Agreste? "

"Is that that model?"

Nino ignored the whispers as he walked away and towards his class room, ignoring the way how the new boy gently pushed Chloe away by her shoulders , as if it was normal to have the blonde girl hanging off of him.

once he got in the room he placed his bag down and sat in his seat, Marinette wasn't here yet, neither was Alya or many other students. Only nathaniel was present, drawing in his book.

It was times like these that he wished he had his headphones, just so he could jam out to a little music before class, Bustier was very lax on that as long as he didn't do it when class started. But he had some time to waste so he brought out his phone and powered it up. He sat there, just goofing off as he waited for the class to begin.

one by one the other classmates entered, taking their seats and quietly talking. Nino shot a quick look down to his jacket, he couldn't see Wayzz but he could just feel his weight in his pocket. It felt weird just having a tiny being right there, a massive secret that could be blown out of the water if someone were to look in his pocket.

"Wow." Chloé's voice flowed through the doorway, for once Nino could swear it sounded like she was actually happy. It sounded really strange after all the false happiness she had given off over the years. The way how she half ran into the room gave off her excitement. "This is your seat, Adrikins. " The blonde girl gestured to the seat next to Nino and, for once, she didn't seem bothered that he was there. "I saved it for you. Right in front of me."

Adrikins, or Adrien if Nino had heard correctly, walked in. Back straight, head high and not unlike Chloé. Passing by Chloé he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks Chloé."

" Just remember, as long as we get past roll call you're in the clear. " He gave her a thumbs up as he sat in the seat next to Nino, it seemed as if he had only just seen him.

"Uh… Hey!" The blonde boy held out his hand in greeting, "Adrien."

Model boy.

friend of Chloé.

He looked well off by his clothes.

Not a good combo in Nino's eyes. "So, you're a friend of Chloé's huh?" He leaned on his raised hand, balling his fist just below his jaw as his elbow rested on the table. Eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, even as Wayzz tapped against his chest calmly.

For a fleeting moment Adrien's faced dropped, the smile he had been giving him faltered and his hand dropped to the table. Perhaps things would be awkward between them but Nino knew he had to put his foot down somewhere, if not between Chloé and Marinette then between himself and Adrien.

His sight didn't last on him for long as Nino's eyes darted to Chloé, seeing her pass off her chewed gum to Sabrina.

"Really Chloé? Can't go a day can you?"

Chloé turned and gave him the stink eye as Sabrina took the gum. " This is none of your business Lahiffe, why don't you drown yourself in your music like a good boy. " Nino frowned as Chloé turned to admire Sabrina's work in sticking the gum to the seat, giving it a squish to spread it as far as she could.

Adrien also seemed to notice after turning back towards them, what surprised Nino was the look of slight disgust that crossed Adrien's face upon seeing their 'work'.

"Hey," he was quick to stand up from his seat and Nino had to blink as his own assumptions of the boy were broken. " what's that all about? "

" The brats that sat here yesterday need a little attitude adjustment." Chloé seemed satisfied with what Sabrina had done and gestured her to get up. "I'm just commanding a bit of respect, that's all."

Adrien leaned down in the space that Sabrina had just vacated and hesitantly tried to pick up the Gum. "Is that really necessary?" The blonde boy grimaced as the gum stuck to the end of his fingers but he didn't stop trying to remove it.

" You've got a lot to learn about school culture adrikins, watch the master." Chloé looked rather proud with what she had caused and Nino would admit he wasn't expecting Adrien to try to remove the gum or even question Chloé for that matter.

Perhaps he had been wrong about him or at least... There was more to him then he could see anyway. Perhaps he had been a little hasty with the way he had acted, been rude for presuming. Maybe it would be best to restart with him?

Especially if he did manage to remove the gum, as he was still trying to do, that seemed to garner a little respect from Alix too. As she had front row seats to his attempts.

The sound of two gasps caught Nino's attention and he swung his head back around to the door, seeing both Alya and Marinette there.

"Hey!" Half the class jumped at Marinette's shout and Nino could've sworn he heard Nath mutter something. "What do you think you're doing?"

If it wasn't for the sour look on her face Nino would have considered Mari's stomping to be quite cute.

Adrien stumbled slightly, fingers slipping on the gum and making it spread slightly more. "uhh... I..."

As Mari's face grew into a scowl as both Chloé and Sabrina burst out laughing, as if putting one of their friends under the ire of a, presumably, angry person was a funny thing.

if this was how she treated friends then he really didn't want to know what she did to people she loathed.

"Okay." She had turned to the two girls, directing her scowl to them. "I get it." She rounded back on Adrien, Nino could see she was making him nervous. "Good job, you three. Very funny."

She knelt down as she tried to remove the gum herself, grimacing as her fingers came away with the gum attached.

"No No. I was trying to take it off, really." She stood, turned on him and leaned into his space, naturally he leaned back, not wanting to have the clearly angry girl up in his face.

" Oh really? I find that hard to believe. " As Chloé and Sabrina laughed even harder she backed off, opened her backpack and pulled out a napkin that she laid on the gum, so as not to sit on it herself. "You're friends with Chloé right?"

"Why do people keep saying that?" Like it was a bad thing went unspoken. Mari huffed at him before taking her seat, being mindful to not actually sit on the napkin. Alya taking her seat next to her a moment afterwards.

Defeated, Adrien slumped down in his chair next to Nino, arms crossed in front of him and head down slightly.

"Now do you see what I mean about respect?" Chloé's hands came up to her chin, where her fingers intertwined together.

Adrien let out a sigh as his head dropped slightly further, his first day at school wasn't going as well as he thought it would.

Nino looked on, seeing the defeated and disappointed look on his face and he truly felt bad for him. Very few had ever earned Marinette's ire, Chloé being the prime example, and he felt bad that Adrien had gotten on her bad side after his first meeting with her.

Not a feat easily broken.

"I know I've seen him somewhere before." He could hear Mari speaking quietly, her eyes were narrowed at Adrien and for a moment Nino and Marinette locked eyes. Her eyes softened, as if recognising that he was in a bad place, being surrounded by the trio.

Her attention was stolen when Alya bumped her arm and she turned to her seat-mate where her attention was stolen by her friends phone. She quickly took it before scrolling through the images present.

"Of course, he's the son of my fave fashion designer Gabriel Agreste. "

"Daddy's boy, Teen supermodel AND Chloé's friend. " Alya counted off each point with a raised finger, her head shaking after she was done. "Ha! Forget it."

Nino winced as Adrien shrunk in on himself quietly, it seemed having someone pointing out a few things that made him unfriendable really took a hit on him. He leaned forwards, catching his attention.

"Why didn't you tell them it was Chloé's idea?"

"I've known Chloé since I was a little kid. I know she's not perfect, but I can't throw her under the bus. She's like my only friend."

Only friend? As in one and only friend? He couldn't imagine going his whole life with just one person as a friend, much less someone like Chloé.

"I'm Nino," He outstretched his hand towards him, copying his greeting from earlier. "and it's time for you to make some new friends, dude."

He saw Adrien's smile curve up slightly before their hands clasped together in a firm shake. Solidifying a new friendship, much to Chloé's Charing.

"I suppose I should apologise about earlier, I may have jumped the gun and judged you a little too early. " Nino rubbed the back of his neck as he looked to the door, seeing Miss Bustier entering the room.

"It's cool, I guess I've still got a lot to learn about public school. "

Nino would have questioned him further if not to Bustier clearing her throat to get everyone's attention. "Alright class, time to quite down now."

Several students grumbled as they ceased their conversation, several put away things that would be deemed 'distractions'. Mylene gave an apologetic look as she came in and quietly took her seat.

"Agreste, Adrien? " She inquired as she read off the register, eyes looking up expectantly at the boy.

Nino leaned over, hand half covering his mouth as he whispered. "You say 'present'."

"Uh, Present!" He had raised right out of his seat, standing up tall as he raised his hand all the way up. The entire class burst out laughing , even Chloé who simply covered her mouth with her hand to placate herself.

Nino only chuckled slightly as he sat back down and Miss Bustier gave him a fond, slightly amused smile.

"Bourgeois, Chloé?"

" Present. " She flicked her hair as she said this. However, Nino didn't pay attention to her as the sound of heavy thumps began to draw closer.

"Bruel, Ivan?" Quicker then Nino could blink the large form of stoneheart ran up to the door, reared back his fist and then punched the door right off its hinges where it flew back towards the opposite wall.

"PRESENT!"

Miss. Bustier had dropped her register at the sudden noise. Nino scrambled to stand, grabbing Adrien by the biceps and dragging him across the bench towards him and away from the centre isle.

"MYLĒNE?" As stoneheart stomped closer to the middle of the room everyone else scrambled away, Alya and Marinette rushed out of their seats and began to back up, screaming, to the far end of the classroom with Kim, Max, rose, Juleka and Alix.

Sabrina had disappeared, Nathaniel was halfway between trying to run and hide and Chloé was sunk down below her desk.

Nino watched from the doorway as Stoneheart batted away Marinette's desk before reaching out and picking up Mylēne after bumping the table out of the way.

She squirmed in his grasp, trying to escape. "Let go of me Ivan."

"I'm not Ivan anymore. I'm stoneheart. " Nino watched from the doorway as everyone else also watched on in horror, he didn't know what had set Ivan off again but he hoped he wouldn't be as destructive as yesterday.

"Why are you doing this?" He pitied Mylēne, stuck in the grasp of someone who wasn't themselves, even as Wayzz whacked himself against his chest to urge him to run and transform.

"So you and I can be together, Forever." Such a statement would normally be cute if not for the fact that Ivan was a towering mound of rock and intimidation. Nino slowly began to back out of the room, eyes caught on stoneheart as he did so.

"Daddy." Chloé's voice echoed around the room as she spoke into her phone, drawing Ivan's attention to her, his raised the girl in his hand above his head to see below him, Mylene let out a squeak at the movement . "The monsters back."

"You!" He grabbed the desk Chloé was hiding under, flinging it to the front of the class, Miss Bustier had to duck down to avoid being hit by it.

"Chloé!"

As Stoneheart reached out to grab her, Adrien, who had been standing close to where Chloé's desk had been, ran forward to her. As he grabbed her around the shoulders both blondes were caught up in Stonehearts fist.

Adrien's arms were pinned around Chloé as her legs kicked the open air below her, half catching Adrien in the shins. Chloé gave out frightened yells as Adrien kept grunting at the pressure surrounding the two of them, along with Chloé kicking him in the shins.

"Ivan Stop!" Nino's hand clenched onto the doorframe, half holding himself back and half keeping him from running away. " This isn't you! "

"You're right. " For a moment Nino thought that he had gotten through to him, made him come to his senses, only for that to come crashing down. "This is stoneheart, Not Ivan! "

Stoneheart turned towards the wall, raised his foot, then kicked it down. Sending bricks, dust and rubble into the road below, he jumped down, making his three passengers scream out as they came closer to the ground.

finally Nino's legs let him move and he quickly turned away from the door and out the classroom, feet hitting the floor in his haste, before he knew it he had found himself in the empty locker room. As he leaned against the row of lockers Wayzz flew out of his pocket.

"Sorry for not leaving faster dude. I just..."

" Thought you could resolve it without violence, " Nino nodded at the little beings words, not bothering to speak his own. "It's ok to detest violence but sometimes to defend people it is necessary. We should go, ladybug will be needing us. "

"You're right. "

He stepped away from the lockers and backed up into the bathroom, although there were no cameras in the locker room he didn't want to run the risk of someone seeing him transform. He took one look at himself in the mirror, seeing his slightly ragged state before breathing in a long breath before letting it back out.

"Alright. Wayzz, Shell on. " He pinched the brim of his hat, running his fingers across the edge as he fastened it to his head, Wayzz morphed into a ball of pure energy as he was pulled into the miraculous, turning it from its pale green to it's darker, active, variant.

He shot out his right hand as the magic began to flow over his body, covering him in his suit. His other hand laid flat on the floor as he transitioned into a backspin as the rest of his body was covered from the neck down.

His shield popped into existence on his back and he halted his spin by placing his hands on the floor, pushing himself up he reached behind him to grasp at the hood as it started to form, bringing it up and over his head as his glasses transformed into goggles.

He ended his transformation off by having his arms crossed over his chest with his back straight and shoulders taunt.

His eyes caught onto the little shell shaped tool on his hip and he brought it up to his eyes level, holding it like one would hold a phone. "Really gotta figure this thing out." Clipping it back to his waste he made a move for the door. " really hope ladybug isn't far away, gonna need her. "

Outside, Stoneheart stomped his way down the street, each step caused cars and loose object to jolt and bounce in place.

In one hand Mylēne squirmed in Stonehearts grip and in the other the two blondes were squashed together tightly.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with." Chloé's neck was crained as she tried to look behind her at Stoneheart, failing due to Adrien blocking her as he was squished to her back. "My daddy, the mayor, will bring in the police, the army, the entire cavalry!"

Perhaps she was putting up a front, trying to seem like she was in control of the situation and not at the mercy of her captor but she would never give anyone the satisfaction of thinking otherwise.

"Don't forget the superheroes!" A dull thunk echoed as Carapace's shield rebounded off the back of Stonehearts head, a second later the hero responsible landed on his shoulder before back-flipping off of him to land before the four of them.

in response to the hit, the cracks between his body began to glow and stoneheart grew in size, become even larger then he had been the first time Carapace had fought him.

"Oop's, my bad."

"Super incompetent, more like." Chloé casually tapped her fingers against Stoneheart enlarged hand in an annoyed fashion, still trying to come off like she had control of the situation. At least she and Adrien weren't as squashed together anymore.

"Really chloé? Is now the time? "

"Oh, hush adrikins. "

Stoneheart huffed, his shoulders jolting as he did so. "You wanted the cavalry? Well, here it is!" All around them large pounding noises echoed around them and multiple of the stoneheart copies began to run towards them, circling him. He was wondering when they would show up. "Seize him!"

Carapace jumped to the side as one of the copies tried to slam their hand down on him, then he quickly rolled between the legs of another when they stepped forwards.

"Behind you!" glancing back he saw the wound up fist of one of the copies, quickly thinking he backflipped, hands gliding up the closed fist until he grasped onto the Rocky bumps that made their knuckles, landing on its wrist as it slammed into the ground were he had been just a second prior.

Seemingly bored of watching his minions toy with the hero, Stoneheart turned and walked away. "Ivan, where are we going?" His Rocky stoic features seemed to lighten up slightly before he looked off in the distance.

"To deliver a message, then we'll be brought together forever by a pretty black butterfly. "

"Ugh, all this lovey dovey stuff is making me sick."

" you sure that's not just motion sickness chloé? "

Stoneheart looked down to the two blondes in his hand, glaring at them, he may not have intended to grab the boy but anyone who choose to defend someone like Chloé was not a good person in his mind. "Don't worry you monsters, I'll deal with you two as well. "

Chloé cringed as she tried to sink further into Stonehearts hand while Adrien went stiff as a board.

Just further down the street Carapace was doing his best to catch up to the original Stoneheart whilst trying to simultaneously dodge each of the copies as they tried to capture him.

further behind them Alya was running up the road, phone out recording trying to capture as much of the fight as she could. She saw as one of the copies hurled a car at the turtle hero, forcing him to roll out of its path, her legs twitched with the desire to get closer but stayed back for the sake of getting the perfect shot. Even as she crouched behind a nearby bin.

"If you can hear me bug! I could use a little help!"

Alya eyebrows furrowed as she looked around to the rooftops, trying to spot the red clad hero. There was no sight of her, she didn't think the two heroes would be far away from one another for long yet she couldn't see a single drop of the colour red.

"What is she waiting for?" Her arms dropped slightly as she tried to look around more, as if the hero would have been flying around outside of her field of vision.

Due to this she did not see when one of the copies threw another car at Carapace, while he dodged with precision the car continued its journey towards the blogger.

When it's shadow cast over her she looked back and her eyes widened at the sight of the several tonne vehicle flying right at her. It's front bumper was half scraping against the floor as its rear was swinging down towards her. She didn't hear other noises around her as her eyes locked into the car, eyes seeing nothing but the undercarriage.

Until a round green shield wedged itself between the wall behind her and the automotive in front of her. Even then the shield couldn't protect her for long as the car slipped to the side, dropping in front of her and trapping her in place when it leaned on the wall again.

The car was putting just enough pressure on her that she couldn't move very much and what few movements she could make were uncomfortable at best.

The sound of a zip wire caught her attention as a black wire wrapped its way around the car, slowly the car pulled back off her allowing her to crawl her way out of the space she had been trapped in. She hardly had time to pull up her phone before ladybug had walked up to her, here eyes only half on the blogger.

"You can't stay here," She flicked her wrist, sending her yo-yo out as it hit Carapace's discarded shield, forcing it to bounce off the ground where she caught it in her free hand. "It's too dangerous."

The black panels on her back lifted as her four wings began to flutter, she took several running steps forward before launching her yo-yo at a streetlamp where it wrapped around and pulled her forwards and off the ground.

Using her yo-yo for leverage she swung her way around the corner , flying around the furthest back stoneheart copy she twirled to keep her partners shield in her grasp. She landed on the shoulder of the second copy before jumping up and out of its reach, she spotted Carapace stuck in the grasp of the fourth copy, one arm held in its grip but the other was moving freely, trying to pry himself free.

"Carapace! Catch! " Twirling her whole body around she threw the shield with all her strength, it was heavier then it looked. "Wedge it!"

He caught it with his free hand seamlessly before slamming it down into the gap in his captors hand.

Nothing happened.

He tried again with the same result. " Bug! It's not working! "

"Working on it!"

Carapace tried to jam the shield in the gap between the copies thumb and fingers, trying to pry it open. He was meet with the same results as the other attempts. Ladybug was fluttering about around him, just out of his captors reach whilst also deflecting the projectiles that were thrown at her.

What he needed was something else that would fit in the gap, something smaller. He felt a tingling in the back of his head, like he was remembering something. His trapped hand brushed against something, a bump in his suit... His other tool, of course! Maybe that would do something.

He grunted as he twisted his hand to grip it, feeling the few ridges in it that made the top half feel like it was bigger then the lower half. Slowly he twisted his arm and tried to get his hand between himself and the stone copies fist. He hardly had his hand halfway up his chest until he couldn't move it no more.

"I'm trying something! Get ready to act!" Ladybug nodded before flying around to the front of the line using her Yo-Yo to trip the front most one to slow them all down. He squeezed the tool and it hissed out its response in the form of four short cables coming out of it, one from each of the four 'holes' in the tools design that made it look like a real turtle.

The wires shot out from his captors hand and quickly curved inwards, all of them intending to meet up with one anohther, they all connected together behind the stone copies head and suddenly his tool was retracting the wires. Pulling his captors hand closer to their own head.

with a heavy thunk the two body parts collided and in their surprise they had opened their fist enough for Carapace to slip out, taking his tool with him as the wires snapped back into place.

the staggering stone minion collided with the one behind it and Carapace couldn't stop the triumphant smile that spread across his face. He felt a wire wrap around his chest before he was yanked up off the floor until he was dropped onto a nearby roof, ladybug landed next to him, her wings fluttering as if ready to take off again.

"Sorry I was late, but we need to go."

"It's cool dudette, you're here now, let's start with these guys." Carapace Clipped both his shield and tool to his back and hip before rolling his shoulder, legs bending as he readied himself to jump back down.

" No. " her yo-yo wrapped around his chest again and before he knew it she was already pulling him along with her as she flew over roof tops. Each time she hit her peak height she would tug on her wire, sending him higher then he could go himself.

He could manage the landing just fine and was able to jump from outcrop to outcrop but he couldn't make the larger gaps between buildings.

"If we wanna save them all then we need to go to the source. " Ladybug had launched them over a large gap in the building, sending them over the trocadéro before they landed close to the centre.

He landed in a roll as Ladybug fluttered down next to him, the two of them had a perfect view of the original stoneheart, of Ivan, as he stood on top of the higher floor of the Eiffel tower, yelling as the helicopters got too close to him.

"That one." From where they stood they could see all the other Stonehearts getting closer to the bottom of the Eiffel tower, putting pressure onto the police officers who were trying to stop them.

Just at the beginning of the Bridge a small police blockage was set up, more to stop civilians from passing then stopping the monsters from roaming as they pleased.

Mayor Bourgeois was just in front of them, a megaphone in hand.

"I demand you return those kids to us immediately!" Even from where they were, due to his size, they could see Stonehearts face Scrunch up in disgust.

"Daddy! " They did pitty Chloé, even they knew she didn't deserve to be stuck where she was.

"You Know what! ? " They saw him begin to pull back his arm, fear coursed through them as they realised what he was about to do. And it wasn't just Chloé who was there either, Adrien was caught up in the Same hand too.

"Bug, throw me." She looked to him, then down to her yo-yo before flickering it at him, wrapping it around his chest once more.

"You're welcome to them! " Stoneheart sent his arm fowards, opening his fist to release the two blondes who went soaring through the air.

around them Screams echoed as all the bystanders yelled in horror. Chloé heard none of it over the wind and her own quick plea to be saved in turn for being nicer.

Before she hit the ground she felt two arms collide around her until she was sliding on the air, when she opened her eyes she saw herself looking up to the heroine from her arms. Ladybug had caught her. "I didn't promise."

" What? "

Chloé shot up as she looked around her, eyes landing on Adrien as he was curled up in the arms of Carapace, who looked like he had done a knee slide after catching him. Later she would watch the video footage and see that he had come out of nowhere, ladybug fast on his heels, and catching her long time friend midair.

For now though she was content to run to him and embrace him in a hug as he stood up and away from Carapace.

He two Hero's quickly got back together, standing side by side as they looked up at Stoneheart.

" Alright, we're clear to attack! " Officer Raincomprix ordered from the top of the police van, one arm still in a sling, the officers around them readied their weapons and took aim at Stoneheart.

Wait what! Mylēne was still up there.

"No Stop! You'll only make it worse." Roger seemed to scowl at them, his good arm pointing at them in a way a parent would scold a child.

"I have a new plan, unlike you!" He waved his arms in a dismissive manner, trying to dismiss them. "Move aside and let the pros do their thing. You've already failed once!"

Beside him ladybug gasped quietly, her body going still as her wings froze. Her shoulders slumped as she turned to him. "He's right you know." Nino flinched at the look that had crossed her face, defeat mixed with sadness. "If I had captured Stoneheart's akuma the first time around, none of this would have happened! I knew I wasn't the right one for this job…" Her hands had come up to her face, as if she were trying to hide herself away.

He breathed in a sharp breath as his shoulders tensed up, he didn't stop to think about how their failure could have affected her. " No. " He patted her shoulder reassuringly before he turned around to Roger, a glare leveled his way. "You're wrong! If it wasn't for us Stoneheart wouldn't have stopped rampaging yesterday!"

Those around them gasped at him as he spoke to Roger in a clearly disrespectful mannner, voice rising with each sentence.

" If it weren't for us you would have a lot more damage on your hands, and these two-" He pointed to both Adrien and Chloé. "Wouldn't be here right now! And that would have been on you!"

" yeah we failed but you know what!? We learned, we now know what to do! So don't tell us to back down when you're the one lining up to shoot him, " his arms gestured to stoneheart, who was starting to wobble slightly, "While he is STILL holding onto a hostage!"

Silence feel over those present and Roger actually looked ashamed to realise he had almost ordered people to fire on a kid, well two actually.

Standing on her own Ladybug felt her heart quicken, her eyes roamed over Carapace, as if seeing him for the first time. She couldn't remember a time when someone defended her like that, it was... heartwarming.

The sound of a deep intense cough caught everyone's attention, all of them turning to stoneheart as he bellowed out the coughs, small black clouds escaped his mouth before he collapsed backwards on the towers platform with a groan.

A larger Clowd rushed out of his mouth and all of them converged together, spinning and spiralling until they formed a shape, no, a face within the floating form of... many, many Akuma's.

"People of paris! " the face moved as it spoke, as if manipulated to copy the speaker, the deep voice echoing around the entire area and it sent chills down people spins. "I am Hawkmoth! "

"Hawkmoth? " The two heroes looked to each other, now they had a name to the one who had caused the Akuma in the first place.

"Ladybug, Carapace. Hand over the ladybug earrings and cat ring now! You've done enough damage to these innocent people."

What? They had caused enough damage, that didn't even make sense, not to mention neither of them had the Cat ring, he had the turtle bracelet and she had the earrings but not a ring.

A slow methodical clap came from next to him, his eyes darted to Ladybug as she slowly walked forwards, hands clapping against one another as she went.

"Nice try, Hawk Moth, but we know who the bad guy is." She spread her arms wide, confidence radiating off her in waves. "Let's not reverse the roles here. Without you, none of these innocent victims would be transformed into villains."

" And trufully, if you weren't the bad guy, you would have asked for the ladybug and the turtle not the cat, that goes to show you aren't trying to help people, you're after those miraculous specifically for yourself. "

"Hawk Moth, no matter how long it takes, we will find you, and YOU will hand us YOUR miraculous!"

She pulled her yo-yo from its belt, her wings began to flail wildly as she began to run, flicking her yo-yo forwards she grabbed onto the fence before pulling herself towards the railing, she pulled herself to it and jumped up off of it, high into the air where her wings began fluttering hard to keep her afloat.

Her yo-yo split open, revealing the pure white magic inside that thrummed with energy. She flung her tool towards the massive Cluster of the akuma, capturing a large swath of them in a single go, leaving a open chunk left in Hawkmoths face for a moment before more of them replaced them.

Hawkmoths image began to help out in frustration, the face changing to match its master true feelings.

She didn't let up though, she swung again, and again, and again until the Akuma could not continue to sustain the form any longer, splitting off individually in a burst of energy where her yo-yo caught all of them as they tried to espace. The last one tried to fly off but she flew towards it and caught it as she landed on the floor of the tower.

Down below, everyone else stood in shock, disbelief and amazement written across their faces as they looked up to her.

"People of paris, Let me make this promise to you. No matter who wants to harm you, Ladybug and Carapace will do everything in our power to keep you safe! " Her hand flicked open her yo-yo and she raised it above her head, within a second a giant swarm of butterflies erupted from it, where they scattered around Paris in a manner similar to an explostion.

Down before the people cheered, Overjoyed to see that not only did the hero's have their back but that they would truly defend them. The officers clapped each other on the shoulders while Chloé jumped into her father's back out of excitement.

" I think I'm in love. " came from the blonde boys mouth. enhanced with the beauty of Ladybug. His love for the new icon would be... Blinding.

Carapace crossed his arms, a smirk growing on his face, seeing her change dramatically from upset to pure confident was good, especially when it was him who caused that... or at least he hoped so.

His face dropped though, this wasn't over yet. His eyes hardened as they looked to the spot behind his partner, Stoneheart was still there. Pulling his tool from his hip he began to run towards the tower. As he drew closer to the bottom of the leg he jumped, managing to reach a height he had not reached previously, he landed on the beams of the tower, then jumped up again to the next beam within his reach.

He wasn't able to jump anywhere close to as high as Ladybug could, but it was enough that, with a few leaps, he could make it to the floor where she stood in a few short moments.

a loud road echoed from the floor were she was and Carapace watched as she went flying away unwillingly, she rotated to catch herself before hoovering in the air, her eyes darted down to him just as he got up to where she had been.

"Help me!" He could see Mylēne wave her arms from where she was stuck in Ivan's hand.

"You'll never take Mylēne from me! " The hulking form of Stoneheart bellowed as he jumped up to a raised part of the platform, his heavy impact had sent him down into his butt before he could make use of his tool.

He jumped up and latched onto the steel beams of the tower slowly bringing himself up with only his free hand as leverage. "Come to me my stone beings! "

The tower began to shake with each Rocky hand that grasped hold of it, the grumbles and grunts of each of the minions echoed around them as they climbed higher and Higher.

Carapace looked over the edge of the railing seeing the advancing beings with a hint of worry on his face, He hadn't faired very well when he went up against them last and now he might have to do it again.

Ladybug landed next to him as she too surveyed the scene, her eyes moving up to Stoneheart himself.

"Alright, so we're surrounded." Carapace started, walking closer to Ladybug in a half pace. " he's climbing higher and we have no way of attacking him. "

"yes, but we know where the Akuma is." Carapace turned to look where she was, seeing stoneheart climbing up the metal above them.

" In his clenched fist, the one he's holding Mylēne with. So..." He trailed off, trying to think of some way for them to separate both Ivan and Mylēne, at least long enough to get the akumatised object.

"So we know he's in love with her." Her eyes widened, then came the joyous smile that accompanied her exaggerated arm movements. "That's it, We don't separate Stoneheart and Mylène: we bring them closer together." She brought her hands together, palms flat as she tilted her head to the side, as if daydreaming. "They're made for each other, they just don't know if yet."

Her wings flapped as she jumped off the platform, dropping for a second before she floated upwards, body facing him as she twirled her yo-yo next to her.

"I don't see what you see, but I trust you. Let's get this done." He took a few steps forwards before leaping up to stand on the railing, Ladybugs Yo-Yo wrapped around his torso tightly. "You know, I feel like this," he gestured to her tool, " is going to be a common thing from now on. "

"Just letting you keep up."

She took off, wings bringing her up higher as she circled around the tower, Carapace had his feet hitting the metal as he ran to keep up with her momentum. Her wire did most of the work in pulling him up, his eyes caught the helicopters that were getting just a little too close for his liking.

As he cleared the railing of the upper most platform Ladybugs yo-yo slipped off of him and he landed in a roll. Ladybug herself used her momentum to flip her body around and down until she landed perfectly onto one of the small poles above.

Mylēne saw her from her place in Stonehearts hand and she reached out towards ladybug despite the considerable distance. "Help! I'm scared of heights!"

" everything going to be ok! "

Stoneheart let out a gravely roar as the two helicopters got way too close, they veered off and almost began to get out of control before they straightened themselves back to normal and backed off.

Carapace rubbed his ears as he looked around him, seeing the Stoneheart copies pulling themselves over the railing and up to where he was.

He dodged the first wild swing with a back-peddle, his arm reached behind him and pulled his shield off his back as he rolled away from a second swing.

Bringing his shield up he let a third hit connect, the force making him slide away slightly, yet it left him no worse for wear. Feeling the heavy footsteps coming from behind him he turned his shoulders to peak behind him, standing there, arms raised ready to come down on him was a third Stoneheart being, the other two being positioned in front of him.

Seeing as he had no room to move or dodge, he raised his shield up. "Shell-ter!" The invincible dome of magic formed around him just before any more hits could connect to him. With the passing seconds he could feel the three present minions pounding away at his defences. If they weren't dealt with soon he would be forced to maintain the barrier until his transformation dropped.

"If you're going to do something, now's the time dudette!"

She breathed in, out, then locked eyes on Ivan. It was now or never, all or nothing.

"Lucky Charm!" Here yo-yo split open, the cloud of Ladybug swarmed together to create a, "Parachute? What am I supposed to do with this?"

Seeing one of the beings step abck, Carapace dropped his barrier before darting between the now empty space, hands grabbing into the support for the section in which Ladybug was perched he pulled himself up and just out of their reach. "We gotta work fast, my timers going!" To illustrate his point his miraculous let out its first set of beeps as the first segment faded away.

" Just get ready. "

She threw her yo-yo, the string going under Stonehearts arm before coming back around his neck and up to her. She grabbed hold of the end and braced her feet into the area in which she was standing.

She pulled hard, causing Stonhearts hand to be pulled closer to his chest, where once the two of them were close enough, Mylēne accidentally kissed his chest, just below his chin.

She released the Yo-yo wire as he reacted, throwing his arm out in surprise, the fingers opening enough to send the akumatised object tumbling down.

Mylēne herself was airborne too, body flung down and close to Stonehearts hand again, but she was moving just a little too far away to be caught again. Carapace acted, he Jumped up and over one of the minions before jumping down to the original, as he slide down his arm he threw hit shield at the Akumatised object like it was a frisbee.

He slid down the rest of Ivan's arm before stopping at the edge of his fingers, one hand holding onto the rock giant while the other grabbed Mylēnes arm to prevent her from falling down.

"Gotcha!"

Carapace's Shield flew down, it's front side faced down, halfway down it caught the solidified ball of paper and began a slow climb back up the tower as the shield attempted to return to its owner. His throw had meant it had severely overextended that, going above ladybug, where the object dropped off the shield as it flew overhead.

" Got it! " She wrapped her wire around it before tightening it as it leaned against the hard edge of her tool, the object cracked and the black and purple Akuma escaped from it.

Ladybug relaxed slightly as she saw it, finally this could be over once and for all... For now anyway.

She flicked open her yo-yo, the pure white energy on display once more, it dropped to hang limply by her side before she began to spin it violently, her eyes locked onto the butterfly before it could get away again.

"No more evil doing for you Little Aku-"

The sight of the black energy around Stoneheart caught her eyes and as snapped her attention to the dangling trio, faster then she could react Stoneheart had transformed back into Ivan, the sever size difference meant that his hand had lost grip on the tower, body now a few meters away from any and all handholds and she watched as all three of them began to fall from where they were.

In his surprise Carapace had let go of Mylēne, his slightly heavier body dragging him down faster then her, Down below the people watched and yelled as one of the hero's and the two kids fell.

Ladybug looked down to them, then back up to the Akuma as it flew away from them. She did this for another second before she took a leap off the top of her perch, her wings flapping hard to propel her downwards faster. Her hand tightened around the straps of the Parachute before she violently spun her body around and threw it towards her partner.

"Carapace! You take care of Ivan!"

As she flew down to intercept Mylēne he caught the Parachute, eyes quickly scanning over the item as he assessed the best course of action to take, a quick glance showed that the Parachute would not support two people, as least, not at the altitude they where at.

acting quickly he grabbed a hold of Ivan's ankle, spinning the two of them around rapidly as he quickly maneuvered the Parachute to fit on Ivan's back while gaining minimal protest. Just as he was done he spun himself back around to his front so the two of them were face to face.

"Don't panic." He placed his feet to Ivan's chest just after clipping the buckle up, one hand grabbing the release handle . With a strong push he attempted to slow Ivan's decent as Much as he could while he pulled the handle so the 'Chute would open.

"Gotcha!" With one arm around Mylēne Ladybug swing back around and pulled her yo-yo to her, the Akuma now trapped within. Her eyes widened as she watched Carapace fall away from Ivan, her Lucky Charm doing it job in saving Ivan but that was NOT what she had thought he would do with it.

as her other arm caught around Mylēne she tried to fly down just that bit faster to try to catch up to him, maybe she could grab him too, maybe she could use her Yo-yo on him again. But as she tilted to go down faster, she felt Mylēne tighten her grip on her and had to let up on it, she had to let Carapace fall on his own.

Her heart raced at the idea of something happening to him now, they had only just begun their work as heroes, she couldn't let him get hurt cause of her own mistake. Her heart yearned and preyed that he would be unharmed.

There was a moment of silence from everyone, all eyes turned to Carapace, concern fear, panic. Suddenly His Hand shot out, body twisting to catch his wayward shield as it finally came back around to its owner. With barley a few dozen metres between himself and the floor he righted himself to have his feet downwards.

"FORTIFY ! " The pale green energy surrounded him as he fell, glowing visibly for people to see. His legs bent just before he hit the ground, a loud klang echoed around the area as his shield hit the concrete.

Everyone watched, concern and curiosity hitting everyone as they watched the still hero.

Carapace breathed hard as his heart hammered in his chest, blood rushed through his ears and he heard nothing but his own breathing, he was in a kneeling position, his right leg was bend back, knee on the ground, his left leg was bend up, foot planted firmly. His head was bowed as he looked to the floor as his shoulders raised and lowered with each breath.

With a small groan he slowly stood up, head raising to look at the spectators, his shield raised off the ground to show the cracks that had been left behind by the impact. Slowly he raised his shield before attaching it to his back as Ladybug landed beside him, Mylēne in her arms.

As she let her down to the floor he turned around to catch a hold of Ivan, helping him settle his feet before taking the parachute off him As he supported the bigger boy.

Silently Ladybug took the item from his hand, before looking at it with a look of contemplation before she bent her knees and threw it up.

"MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!"

He watched as the item glowed before exploding into hundreds of red ladybugs that swarmed all over Paris, restoring the damage that had been caused by Both of Ivan's akumatizations.

The crumbled building was restored, the bent frames of the tower where undone and lastly, the cracks beneath his feet where repaired.

"Whoa... thats..."

" Miraculous. "

The two Hero's looked to each other, small smiles on their faces and Ladybug had to fight the urge to look embarresed, there was something about Carapace's impressed look that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Pound it!" As there fists collided Carapace's bracelet let out another ring, warning him of his impending de-transformation.

" I'll see you next time bug, you two stay safe too. " He nodded to Mylēne and Ivan before taking off away from the scene.

The sound of the increasing downpour hit the boys ears, besides Nino, Adrien fidgeted with the strap of his bag as he looked over to the Blue haired girl.

Paranoia was apparent on his features and Nino thought his new friend would pass out and have a headache if he was left to think. "Just go talk to her dude, she's not going to bite you. "

"I...uhh.... What do I say though? I don't want to make things worse."

Nino sling his arm over Adrien's shoulders, squeezing him a little. " Just be yourself, explain what happened and most importantly, be truthful and open. Nette will come around. "

"I... Ok."

Nino leaned against the wall as he watched the blonde boy approach Marinette. Content to let things transpire naturally and without interference from his part.

"It was nice of you to help him out." Nino looked down to see Wayzz peaking out of his jacket. He rubbed the little Kwami's head with his finger, sort of petting him in a weird way.

"Of course, it's the least I could do after not speaking up earlier, besides Mari's the forgiving type. She's never held a real grudge for long."

" such a kind heart, it's no wonder you like her. " Nino sputtered slightly as he tried to find some counter but came up blank before he signed in defeat.

"Yeah, I know. Shame she doesn't see me as anything other then a friend though."

" who knows, maybe on day things will change. "

"Perhaps dude." Nino walked forwards as Adrien walked away from Marinette, leaving her with his umbrella.

it seemed all went well if the gentle look on her face was any indication, he bumped shoulders with her as he came up to her, gaining her attention.

"So, everything good now?"

" Yeah... I messed up earlier. " Nino leaned against her shoulder as he scooted under the umbrella with her.

"Didn't we both. Now what say I walk home with you so you don't slip?"

Marinette giggled at him before poking his chest. " You just want an excuse to get free treats. "

"Well... Yeah, no need to call me out like that."

The two of them laughed their way to Marinette's house, both none the wiser to the elderly man who watched from down the road. His own umbrella shielding him and the black cat Kwami.

"Alright, I'll admit, you choose well. Now can we get out of the rain? I don't like getting wet. "

Fu chuckled before he turned away from the duo, he knew the miraculous would be in good hands now.

#miraculous ladybug au #bug and shell(d)#badass marinette #badass nino #Carapace #nino x marinette #better Master Fu #plagg is a little shit #Nooroo needs a hug

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grandmascottlang · 4 years

Text

no one mourns the wicked ch. 1 (p.p)

So. It’s been a while, but I promise, this fic will be worth it. I’ve never been more inspired to write anything in my life and I am so excited to see where this goes. For reference, this story will follow the main plot of Wicked, but there will be some subtle differences. Also, if you’d like to beta read this series, please let me know (by dming me!)

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No One Mourns the Wicked Chapter 1: The Mysterious Green Bottle that Started It All

Summary: The Good Witch of the South hears rumors about the Wicked Witch of the West throughout all of Oz. Liz wants to make things right. [Wicked!AU]

Warnings: None (yet).

Words: 1.4k

Liz had always loved the Munchkins, but hearing the rumors that spread throughout all of Oz about her oldest friend concerned her. She was currently living in the Emerald City after the “mysterious” disappearance of the Wizard, however, she had to do something. Something that she should have done a long time ago.

The Good Witch of the South used her magic bubble to travel across the land, looking down at the yellow-brick road as she followed it to where the story of the Wicked Witch of the West began. The road brought back memories, both painful and happy as she remembered the days leading up to her best friend’s death.

.:*:.

She made it to Munchkinland and the sight that was in front of her scared her. It horrified her what the Munchkins were doing.

The citizens of Munchkinland gathered together in the town square, dancing and partying. This had been going on for the past few hours as the news that the Wicked Witch of the West had died spread throughout all of Oz.

“Everyone gather ‘round! There’s good news!”

“Rumor says that she killed the Wizard!”

“If that’s true, I’m glad she’s dead!”

“No one mourns the wicked!”

Liz put up her facade that she had created years ago as she descended from the sky, feigning a smile to all of the Munchkins below her.

“Look, everyone! It’s Liz the Good!” one of the Munchkins exclaimed as they looked up at her in the sky, grabbing everyone’s attention.

The rest of the Munchkins jumped up and down in glee seeing the Good Witch who helped them rid the world of both of the Wicked Witches.

“Fellow Ozians,” Liz began, her bubble safely lowering her to the ground as the Munchkins surrounded her in a semi-circle. “Let us be glad! Let us be grateful! Let us rejoicify that goodness could subdue, the wicked workings of you know who! Isn’t it nice to know that good will conquer evil? The truth we all believe’ll and--”

One of the Munchkins, someone Liz had remembered going to Shiz with, (‘I believe his name is Flash, I think…’) swiftly cut the Witch off, “Liz! Exactly how dead is she?”

Internally, Liz’s heart broke, just hearing that her friend has died, even though she already knew, was the most painful emotion she had ever experienced. Maybe besides heartbreak. She kept her facade, not letting Flash’s comment get the best of her as she tried to be a symbol of hope to the people of Oz. “Well, there has been much rumor and speculation, but let me set the record straight. According to the Time Dragon Clock, the melting occurred at the 13th hour; a direct result of a bucket of water thrown by a female child. Yes, the Wicked Witch of the West is dead!”

The Munchkins began to dissipate after hearing the news; opting to begin their tarnishing of the Wicked Witch’s name again. It hurt Liz deeply, her friend, no, her best friend, died doing what was right and yet the people of Oz believed something that a phony wizard made up.

A boy slipped away from the crowd and looked at the Good Witch of the South with a questioning expression, “Liz, why does wickedness happen?”

“That's a good question; one that many people find confusifying,” she smiled at the boy, slightly ruffling his hair. “Gather round, Munchkins!” she called out to her people.

“Are people born wicked, or do they have wickedness thrust upon them? After all, she had a childhood; she had a father, who just happened to be the governor of Munchkinland. She had a mother, as so many do…” Liz continued, waving her wand in front of her.

.:*:.

A bubble appeared in front of the Witch with what seemed like a memory inside. In the bubble, the former governor of Munchkinland and his wife were shown. They were slow dancing, but the governor’s wife looked… detached, almost.

“I'm off to the assembly, dear. How I hate to go and leave you lonely--” he started.

His wife’s eyes lit up as she cut her husband off, “That’s alright, it’s only just one night!”

“But know that you’re here in my heart while I’m out of your sight.” He lifted up his wife’s chin, softly kissing his lips before breaking their embrace. He walked to the door and picked up his expensive-looking duffle bag before waving to his wife and leaving their home.

.:*:.

Liz stopped the image, a frown etched on her face. “And like all families, they had their secrets…” she said as she continued the memory.

.:*:.

A few seconds later, a man threw open the door, walking into the house smoothly. The governor’s wife ran to him, wrapping her arms around him as his fingers tangled themselves in her hair. The man’s face was obscured by a hat with a large brim; the hat cast a shadow over the man’s face, leaving his identity a mystery to the Munchkins.

She released him from her tight hug, only for the man to reach into his bag for something he had brought with him. He pulled a peculiar-looking bottle out of his satchel, waving it in front of the woman’s face. “Have a drink, my dark-eyed beauty, I’ve got one more night left here in town. So have another drink of green elixir and we’ll have ourselves a little mixer, have another little swallow little lady and follow me down.” He handed her the drink.

She took a quick sip and then pulled the man to her, giving him a bruising kiss.

.:*:.

The bubble soon popped, a mixture of expressions coming from the crowd of Munchkins. The governor’s wife cheated on her husband? Hushed whispers echoed through the crowd.

Liz waved her wand again, creating a new bubble with a new memory. “And of course, from the moment she was born she was...well... different!”

.:*:.

“The baby’s coming! Keep pushing and don’t forget to breathe, Miss!” the midwife attending to the governor and his wife shouted over the screams of the pregnant woman.

“Now? The baby’s coming now?” the governor spoke nervously as he held his wife’s hand.

“I see a nose!” the midwife shouted, motioning for the governor to stand next to her so he could hold the baby as soon as he was able.

“I see a curl!” he exclaimed, leaving a grin on his face that reached from ear to ear. “It’s a healthy, perfect, lovely, little--”

Both the governor and his wife began to scream because of the baby that was in the midwife’s arms.

“What is it? What's wrong?” the governor’s wife, as tired as she was, pushed herself up onto her elbows so she was in a semi-sitting semi-laying down position.

“How can this be? What does it mean?” He grimaced at the baby in his arms, clearly holding hate in his heart for his newborn daughter. “It’s… atrocious, obscene! Like a froggy, ferny cabbage, the baby is unnaturally… green!” He held his baby as far away from his body as he could, almost as if he was trying to prevent the tiny girl’s green skin from staining him. “This child… no, this abomination, cannot be mine! How could this have happened?” Tears leaked from his eyes as he pushed the baby into the midwife’s arms. “Take it away… I can’t look at it right now.”

The midwife gave the man a confused look but left the room before he could yell at her. The governor was not someone you’d want to anger.

The governor’s wife laid back down on her bed, tears leaking from her eyes as she remembered the one night she spent with that mysterious man… She never thought that she would regret that night as much as she began to at that moment. Her heart shattered as the pain of regret sat on her shoulders.

.:*:.

A tear fell from Liz’s face after seeing the Wicked Witch’s parents' reaction to something that she would never be able to change. “So you see, it couldn't have been easy! Her parents hated her from the start and held no love in their hearts for her!”

The Munchkins all grouped tighter together, beginning their chanting again. They finally understood the Wicked Witch. She was born from a mistake, no one ever loved her. It made sense. She was born wicked. No one can… become… wicked, right?

@jediisapphic (tagging you because you said that you’d be down to read this!!)

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queensofrap · 5 years

Photo

Cardi B in the March 2019 issue of Harper’s BAZAAR. QUEEN.

Cardi B Opens Up About Her "Rags to Riches" Cinderella Story

When Cardi B visits her favorite nail salon in the Bronx, she enters through a raggedy hallway covered with a rug emblazoned with the image of a $100 bill. The salon, which overlooks a bustling avenue of pizza shops, sports-gear superstores, and boutiques with weaves in 70 colors, is a temple to money, excess, and sexiness, symbolized in the application of nails that look like diamond-encrusted Buck knives. Portraits of two icons of pulchritude hang on the walls—namely, Marilyn Monroe and the very 2019 version of Marilyn: Cardi.

With a posse that includes her dad, her half-sister, her half-brother, and two Drogosize bodyguards whose names I don’t catch but imagine to be Bulwark and Spear, Cardi, 26, heads toward a private side room. She surrenders her hands and feet to Jenny Bui, her sharp-tongued nail tech of more than half a decade, even back when she didn’t have the money to move out of this borough.

A tiny, makeup-less sprite in magenta leggings and a playful Moschino sweatshirt, Cardi talks about where she’s at today. On one hand, she says, “I feel like my life is a fairy tale and I’m a princess—rags to riches, people trying to sabotage,” she says. But she also complains fervently about being over the fairy-tale life and wanting peace and quiet. “Before, I cared about everything—relationship, gossip. Now I don’t feel like I have the time to please people,” she explains. “I don’t care about anything anymore—just my career and my kid.” What about money, the thing she raps about caring for quite a bit? “Well, I care about my career because of my money,” Cardi says, giving me a “c’mon, stupid” face.

“Before,” in this context, means before the tectonic shifts that have taken place in Cardi’s life in the past year: that she became a global superstar; relocated from New York to Atlanta to live with the charismatic rapper Offset, her new husband; gave birth to an unplanned but much loved daughter, Kulture Kiari, in July; then, five months later, after the drip-drip-drip of rumors about Offset’s infidelity, announced on Instagram that the marriage was over.

Today Cardi tells me that Offset has been to her apartment, but they haven’t seen each other and are “not really” talking, which is a bit hard to believe after she shows me videos of her gurgling baby on her iPhone and happens to scroll past a photo of Offset with a time stamp reading today. When I ask her if she’s getting back with Offset, I can almost hear her curious entourage, who have arranged themselves on sofas on the perimeter of the room, lean forward to catch the answer. For a moment, the only sound is Bui engaging in some hard-hat-level sanding and scraping of the star’s three-inch nails. Then Cardi says both, “I don’t think so,” and “Who knows? You never know, you can never tell,” neither of which is exactly a definitive answer.

I’ve interviewed dozens of pop stars, and Cardi, despite the massive entourage and the bear-claw-like nails, seems the most normal. She’s not the most down-to-earth or the most perfect, and she’s definitely not the least into social media, but she knows who she is and where she came from, and has somehow managed to keep expressing genuine emotions in the face of blockbuster success. And while her emotions can sometimes seem out of control, who hasn’t been there? We might not have screamed and thrown a shoe at Nicki Minaj at a Harper’s Bazaar event this past September (in retribution, Cardi has said, for various slights from Minaj, including liking a negative comment about her parenting skills), or allegedly ordered an attack on two female bartenders at a strip club visited by Offset (a judge issued orders of protection in December for the accusers), but we’ve all been mad as hell. And the unbearable cuteness and sexiness of Cardi, a raunchy L.O.L. doll, quickly erases those moments, drowning them in adorable high jinks.

Leaving aside the fake nails and boob implants, with Cardi the artifice is in the artwork. In the space of less than a year, her music, videos, and fashion have made her a star of Lady Gaga proportions. She releases hit after hit; following last summer’s “I Like It,” the first Latin trap song to rise to number one on the Billboard Hot 100, with “Money,” a song, unsurprisingly, about money. In the video, she wears gorgeous clothes (she’s got “10 different looks and my looks all kill,” she raps), including outfits referencing Thierry Mugler, a gold bikini inspired by 1990s Lil’ Kim’s, and a custom Christian Cowan bodysuit fabricated from dozens of actual watches. She’s a post-Kardashian American superstar, a master of selfies, belfies, late-night Instagram videos, and all other manner of self-promotion— and also a creative genius. In 2019, no one needs to pick.

Raised in the Bronx, Cardi was the naturally rebellious daughter of a Trinidadian-born cashier mother and a Dominican Republic–born cabdriver father. Her mother was strict. Nevertheless she joined the notorious Bloods gang, moved out of her mother’s home and in with a boyfriend and, finding herself broke, took a job as a cashier at a grocery store. To build a nest egg, she became a stripper. To build a bigger nest egg, she became a hot girl on social media. In 2015, she was cast as a lovable loudmouth on the VH1 reality show Love & Hip Hop: New York, then began releasing her own mixtapes. Her debut single, “Bodak Yellow,” went to the top of the charts, and it took her only one album to achieve escape velocity: Invasion of Privacy, arguably the best debut album from a female rapper since Lil’ Kim’s 1996 Hard Core.

It’s an intense time for Cardi, now one of the biggest rappers—and one of the most famous women in the world—caring for an infant and dealing with a semi-estranged husband. Her answer is to be as real as she can. As much as she may imagine herself as a princess, she talks about admiring Meghan Markle for becoming a real one. “She must just be like, ‘Who am I?’” Cardi says, referring to Markle’s having to live by the royal family’s rules. Not being able to be herself would be the worst punishment for Cardi.

Up and down, joy and pain, sunshine and rain—we’ve experienced all her days on her social media channels, where she posts close-up, emotional videos like an Instagram mime. She’s not your typical grasping celebrity, and doesn’t get off on endless adulation. “I work with somebody who gives me compliments all day, and I’m like, ‘Oh, my gosh, can you just stop?’” she says.

Cardi’s fans have been so protective of her that when Offset broke in to her set at a concert, walking onstage with a $15,000 rolling floral display made of 2,000 roses that read TAKE ME BACK CARDI, they exploded on social media with anger over a man who refused to take a woman’s “no” at face value. (A backstage video showing one of Cardi’s reps escorting Offset to the stage did little to dim the outrage.)

I ask if any family or friends influenced her decision to leave Offset. “No, I decided on my own,” she declares, looking me straight in the eye. “Nobody makes my decisions about my life but me.” Before they broke up, Offset begged Cardi to see a therapist. “I didn’t want to go to marriage counseling,” she says, in a firm tone of voice. “He suggested it, but it’s like, ‘I don’t want to go.’ There’s no counselor or nothing that could make me change my mind.”

Like many women who’ve experienced heartache and alleged infidelity, she seems caught between wanting to stay and leave. As Elizabeth Gilbert wrote in Eat Pray Love, Offset is “[her] lighthouse and [her] albatross in equal measure.” But Cardi also knows that dating new guys might be bizarre. “I have a kid, and I’m also famous,” she says quietly. “So I can’t just sleep with anybody. People talk. You know, if I date somebody in the industry, that’s another person in the industry. If I date somebody who is not in the industry, he might not understand my lifestyle.” Since the breakup, she’s been getting a ton of messages from guys but ignoring them. “It’s like, ‘Bro, why would you want to holler at me right away? You’re weird.’ If you think Imma automatically hop onto you after a marriage, that just means you think I’m a sleaze. And I’m not. I have a kid—I have to show an example.”

Bui, who has been listening intently to our interview while crafting Cardi’s nails, waves a hand and then interjects, “You’re so old-fashioned!”

“Jenny, just because I’m out there and very sexual doesn’t mean that I have to be whorish,” says Cardi. “I like to have sex. That doesn’t mean I have to have it with everybody.” She pauses, then adds, “Not that I judge women who want to have sex with the world.”

Done with her rant, Cardi turns her attention to her nails. “Damn, that’s sharp,” she says to Bui, whistling a little under her breath. “The polish will make them less sharp, right? Because we can’t forget about the baby.” Ignoring her, Bui says only, “Don’t move.”

Throughout our conversation, Cardi has been jiggling her leg up and down like a schoolkid. I ask her how long she’s had that habit. “Forever, and you know what? People always talk shit about it, but now it’s like, ‘Ha ha,’ because when I do it my daughter likes it,” she says.

Despite the indelible image of Cardi breast-feeding in the “Money” video, wearing a black gown open at the bodice, she isn’t breast-feeding Kulture, whom she’s nicknamed KK. “It was too hard,” she explains. In fact, she spent most of the time after the baby was born in a haze of postpartum depression. “I thought I was going to avoid it,” Cardi says. “When I gave birth, the doctor told me about postpartum, and I was like, ‘Well, I’m doing good right now, I don’t think that’s going to happen.’ But out of nowhere, the world was heavy on my shoulders.”

Realizing that taking KK with her on the tour bus was unrealistic but unable to bear leaving her at home, Cardi dropped out of a lucrative tour with Bruno Mars. She started feeling better a couple of months after the baby was born, she says, and her mother has been helping out; Cardi hasn’t hired professional help because she isn’t sure she can trust anyone outside her family.

As a new mom, Cardi is still experiencing aches and pains. “For some reason, I still don’t feel like my body’s the same,” she says. “I feel like I don’t have my balance right yet. When it comes to heels, I’m not as good at walking anymore. I feel like I’m holding a weight on me. I don’t know why because I’m skinnier than I’ve ever been. But there’s an energy I haven’t gotten back yet that I had before I was pregnant. It’s just the weirdest thing.”

The baby is starting to help Cardi balance her emotions, though. “Sometimes I’ll see something online and it’ll piss me off, and then my baby will start crying or something, and it’s like, ‘You know what? I’ve got to deal with the milk. Forget this.’” She’s thinking about pulling back a little from social media. “I’ve noticed that every time you respond, you just make things worse, so I’m over it. I’m just over it. I really don’t need it, and sometimes it just brings chaos to my brain.” She adds, “I can stay off social media. I’ve been trying.” For months after KK was born, Cardi didn’t put pictures of her on social media, and certainly didn’t sell any to the tabloids. She says Offset wanted to put a picture up, but she was unsure.

“As soon as she was born, one month in he was like, ‘She’s so beautiful. Watch how people gonna go crazy.’ ’Cause a lot of people were saying mean stuff, like that we don’t post her because she’s ugly. He was like, ‘I’m about to post my baby right now.’ But then we were very concerned because we were getting a lot of threats, so he said, ‘The world don’t even deserve to see her.’” Eventually Cardi wanted to put a photo up because “it’s really annoying and we don’t have a life. We have to hide her all the time. I can’t go to L.A. or Miami and walk down the beach with my baby. I want to go shopping with my baby. I want to take a stroll with my baby. Sometimes I feel bad for her because all she knows is the house.” But can’t you put on a baseball cap? I ask. Will people still recognize you? “Yeah,” she says. “It’s my nose.”

Bui applies a final coat of purple paint on Cardi’s nails—a brief discussion ensues about whether the shade is the exact “baby purple” Cardi has requested—and then she talks about needing to get home to go to sleep. “I’ve got a big meeting in the morning in Boston,” Cardi says, nodding slowly. “Lots of money in Boston.” She begins horsing around with her six-year-old half-brother, ribbing him for being rebellious the way she used to be. “He’s a child of the corn!” she wails. “He’s just like me.” (Her half-sister adds, “Like you, sharp but sweet.”) Bui says she thought that when Cardi hit it big, she wouldn’t see her in the salon again. “I told her, ‘You’re going to forget about me,’ ” Bui says. “And she said, ‘Never.’”

#cardi b #harper's bazaar #rap #rapper #hiphop #hip hop #female rap #2019 #march #female rapper #fashion

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missnmikaelson-main · 5 years

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The Forgotten - Chapter 1

Summary: A mysterious grimoire, a locked mausoleum and a drop of blood: what could go wrong? Bonnie, Caroline and Elena take a road trip to New Orleans on the off chance that a weapon exists to stop Klaus.

Inspired by a prompt from @kol-and-elena-fanfiction. Here is chapter one. Thank you so much for the prompt, and for being my sounding board during the creative process, and thank you for making the beautiful cover image.

‘What’ and ‘if’ were two words as non-threatening as words could be, but together, side by side, they possessed the power to haunt a person for the rest of their life.

She was sprawled on the cobblestones with a trickle of blood running over her cheek and too many ‘what ifs’ flying through her mind to count.

What if Stefan hadn’t left town with Klaus? Would they still be together? Would she be safe in her bed?

What if she hadn’t blown off family game night? Would her parents still be alive? Would she be involved in the supernatural? Would she be safe in her bed?

What if Katherine had never come to town?

What if Caroline hadn’t suggested a girl’s trip?

What if Bonnie hadn’t gotten that grimoire in the mail?

Would she be safe in her bed?

The questions poured through her head, and didn’t stop coming. She knew that they wouldn’t until she opened her eyes and focused on the present.

She couldn’t live in the past.

Her eyelids protested the order but eventually fluttered open. Rolling onto her side she sat up and prepared to tell them she was alright, but the words died on her tongue.

Her friends – who she knew would never abandon her – were nowhere to be found. She was alone in the fog filled cemetery. The moon was the only source of light to cast an eerie glow over the assortment of stone.

She raised a shaking hand to her aching head and stared up at the shadowed letters of the nearest mausoleum. Her fingers found a distinct lump beneath her hair and she winced, but blinked away the tears so she could read the name on the tomb.

She watched Bonnie try to open the door again and tilted her head. They had tried pulling. They had tried pushing. They had tried everything but the door would not budge.

“What’s supposed to be in there anyway?” Elena rubbed her upper arms. The temperature had dropped since their arrival in the Crescent city.

“I have no idea,” Bonnie groaned, tossing her hands in the air.

“So on our big road trip to forget about Klaus you detoured us for no apparent reason? I should be compelling us drinks somewhere before we dance the night away,” Caroline inspected her finger nails; the manicure was in need of a touch up. “What exactly did the letter say?”

Bonnie pulled the typed sheet of paper from her pocket and passed it over. They already knew the words; they had puzzled over the letters contents since leaving Virginia.

“The answers you seek are sealed in the Gatreaux tomb. You’ll find the tomb in Lafayette Cemetery,” Elena read. She sighed and refolded the letter, quoting the last of the letter from memory; they were the words that had brought them to New Orleans. “The key to Klaus’ demise.”

“Who sent that?” Caroline eyed the paper as if expecting a signature to suddenly appear.

“I don’t know,” Bonnie shrugged. She dug in the shoulder bag she had dropped earlier to focus on the tomb, and flipped through until she found the grimoire that had come with the letter.

Elena watched as she thumbed through the pages and found something. A sense of dread prickled at the base of her scalp. She had the strangest feeling that whatever was coming next was unavoidable – inevitable.

“I think I’ve got a way in,” Bonnie murmured, dragging her finger over the page, “I just need some… blood.”

“Let me guess,” Caroline rolled her eyes from one best friend to another.

Elena sighed under the pointed look from Caroline and the questioning one from Bonnie. She rolled up her sleeves and pulled off her gloves.

“All I can say is there had better be something good in there.”

She tried looking at her watch but the numbers were too small to make anything out. She knew she had been there for a while though. Bonnie had cast the spell around two o’clock in the afternoon and the sun had long since vanished beneath the horizon.

Elena shifted onto her knees and felt her head swim.

“Ow…” she moaned and fought off a wave of nausea. It burned the back of her throat, threatening to come up in a violent spew.

She was pretty sure she felt the ground shifting, but she was only certain of it when a large hand settled on her shoulder. The heat spread through the layers of winter fabric to warm her freezing body. A second hand tipped up her chin and at first all she could see were the dark eyes nearly black in their intensity.

She realized that he was speaking when he probed her head injury and she looked down to his moving lips. She thought he might have sighed, but then his teeth elongated and his wrist was in her mouth before she could even hiss in pain.

Copper flooded her mouth and she grimaced.

“Why did you do that?” She wiped excess blood from her lips.

“You hit your head, darling,” he pressed a handkerchief into her hand and helped her stand.

“I thought you said I had the wrong Mikaelson if I was in the market for a gentleman.”

Elena dragged her eyes from her rescuer to the woman. She was wearing a long coat over an ankle length skirt and her blonde ringlets were covered with the ugliest hat Elena had ever seen. She was so distracted by the period clothes that it took her a moment to register the fact that she knew the name.

“I was right; if you want a gentleman you should look to Elijah. Now,” he turned his attention to Elena, “now that you’re healthy you can tell me why a doppelganger is in New Orleans.”

Elena swallowed, turning her head to meet his eyes; there was a hint of amusement in the darkened depths. With a jolt she realized he wasn’t expecting her to answer or even know what a doppelganger was. Her mind scrambled for the clues the pair had inadvertently dropped: ‘Mikaelson’, “Elijah’, ‘doppelganger’, their fashion backward attire, and the uncanny resemblance to Elijah.

She was ninety-nine percent sure that everything that was happening entirely in her head. In the experience she had with Elijah and Klaus she knew that the brothers enjoyed a quick intellect so she countered his question with one of her own; it didn’t matter what she said anyway.

“What’s an Original doing skulking through the cemetery?” She cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna call me Katerina are you?”

He opened his mouth to say something but before he could she continued talking because apparently at some point during the road trip she had caught Caroline’s babble bug and it seemed that bug had extended to her hallucination.

“Of course you’re not because this is my dream, and I hate when people mix us up. Although since it happens so often in life it could happen here and that means that my dream isn’t a dream, but a nightmare. What are you doing anyway: midnight sacrifice? Are you gonna kill me? Klaus killed me… Elijah tried to save me. What are you looking at me like that?”

She tilted her head when she saw his wide eyes.

“I’m not crazy,” she tapped the side of her head. “My mind is perfectly in tack, and,” her eyes darted between them, “at least I’m not wearing clothes that went out of style a century ago.” Her eyes narrowed when he lifted her chin and caused goosebumps to rise on her arms. “What are you doing?”

“Checking for further head wounds,” he murmured, running his gloved fingers through her hair. “My blood should have healed you by now.”

“She’s not injured,” the woman said, “she has been displaced. I can feel the magic clinking to her skin from here. A spell has been cast on her and recently.”

“Not on me,” Elena protested. “Bonnie was trying to open the door.”

“When did she do this?” The woman tilted her head. Her hat cast long shadows over her features.

“Earlier this afternoon,” she shrugged.

“I was hoping for the date,” she blinked. “I don’t know what spell your friend Bonnie cast, but she has pushed you backwards in time.”

“I’m in the past?” Elena pressed her lips together. Her knees wobbled and she would have fallen if not for the Original at her side reaching out to hold her up. “The… what year is it?”

“1914,” he steadied her, “what was your friend after?”

“There was something in a tomb that was gonna…” Elena trailed off when she looked at him; he was an Original brother. “She wanted something inside but the door was sealed with magic and my blood boosts every spell.”

“She sought something in my playhouse?” He searched her eyes. “You’ve gotten mixed up in some dark magic, haven’t you? Which dark object were you seeking? What foe do you wish to vanquish?”

“I don’t think vanquishing is possible,” Elena shook her head, “more like putting him in his place.” Her eyes flickered to the woman. “You’re a witch? Can you undo what my friend did?”

“Maybe,” she nodded, “but I’m a little busy at the moment. The city is at war.”

Elena followed her eyes back to the man who was still holding her upright. Was he going to hand her to his brother?

“He doesn’t have the moonstone,” she swallowed, “so there’s no point…”

“You know about the moonstone?” He frowned, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“From the future,” she reminded him. “Klaus already killed me once and I know he doesn’t have what he needs, and he won’t have it for another century.”

“Perhaps we could be of mutual use to each other,” he tiled his head with a tight smirk. “You have knowledge that might help in this war, and I can keep you hidden from my brother, Miss Petrova.”

“Gilbert,” she corrected, “Elena Gilbert. And you are?”

He flashed a charming smile and lifted her hand.

“Kol Mikaelson,” he kissed her knuckles, smirking when she shivered, “at your service, darling.”

“Well,” Elena cleared her throat, “how about getting me home, Kol Mikaelson?”

“That is a problem for Mary Alice, darling,” he nodded to his companion before motioning Elena into the mausoleum. “This is a bad town for such a pretty face, and Klaus has eyes and ears everywhere.”

At first glance the room was dark, bathed in ominous shadows. It was exactly what she expected the interior of a crypt to look like, but then Kol flipped an old fashioned switch and the air rushed from her lungs.

Floor to ceiling shelves were covered in a myriad of objects and books. There were several tables scattered around the room holding more paraphernalia.

She wanted to say something but she wasn’t sure what so she traced a gramophone’s needle with her fingertip as Kol addressed Mary Alice and a second woman she hadn’t seen enter. She was marvelling over the perfect condition of the antiques that weren’t yet antiques when long fingers curled around her elbow. Her arm tingled under the touch.

“Shall we darling?” Kol steered her toward the corner.

Elena almost laughed when she saw the daybed and couldn’t stop the quip she was certain was a bad idea given the year.

“I’ve known you all of ten minutes and you’re already trying to take me to bed,” she clicked her tongue in mock disapproval, but amusement danced in her eyes, “at least buy me dinner first.”

Her voice came out louder than she meant for it to, eliciting scandalized gasps from the chemistry lab atop a nearby table. She couldn’t hear the comments, but Kol could and shot the women a look.

“Don’t mind them, darling,” he smirked, “they lack a proper sense of humour.”

“I think a ‘proper’ sense of humour is why they didn’t laugh,” Elena muttered under her breath. She smiled when Kol chuckled and sat in the empty space beside her. “You mentioned a war?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“The witches of the city have turned on each other,” Mary Alice looked up from her work to address Elena. “If we fail then Klaus wins and out ancestral home will fall to vampires. How are you meant to help us if you don’t know what’s going on?”

“I’m not from New Orleans,” Elena pressed her lips together, “I don’t know the full history of the city, and all I know of Originals is what I learned from Elijah, so I don’t know how I’m meant to help you.”

Her eyes flickered to Kol. How many years did he have before Klaus dropped him at the bottom of the ocean? What if she told him? Would it make a difference? What if she made everything worse?

“Actually, I do know,” she squared her shoulders, “I help you by staying off Klaus’ radar and staying alive.”

“How is that helpful?” A line appeared between Astrid’s eyes.

“Because if he uses me in his ritual he becomes more powerful than he already is,” Elena met their eyes.

“I give you my word that won’t happen,” Kol swore. Fire flashed in his eyes.

Elena shifted to look at him, scrutinizing the vampire forgotten to history. She wondered if anyone remembered him in her time aside from Elijah, but she couldn’t let herself dwell on thoughts of the noble brother; it hurt too much. She could still feel the sting of his betrayal like a knife in her gut, and it didn’t matter that she knew why he had done it or that she had all but forgiven him for the act.

“Can I trust you?”

He looked in her eyes, all traces of amusement long gone, and something in her shifted. He leaned in just an inch and she followed him.

“I may be a beast, Elena Gilbert,” his smooth voice drifted over her spine, making her heart skip a beat and a flush to stain her cheeks, “but I’m a man of my word, and when I make a promise I keep it.”

“I’ve heard those words before,” she smiled sadly.

“From me?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I know that tone, darling. Somebody has broken your trust.”

“It wasn’t you,” Elena tilted her head. “We just met, remember?”

“Which means you have no reason to distrust me,” he smirked.

“It also means I have no reason to trust you,” she arched an eyebrow.

“Come on, darling,” he smirked, “take a leap of faith.”

Mary Alice shifted some objects around and hit a shallow bowl of powder. The substance flew through the air to coat Kol and Elena in a layer of dust.

She sputtered and coughed until her eyes watered before sucking in a greedy breath.

++++

Caroline stared at the empty space by the stairs, pointing with a shaking finger. She turned and starred at Bonnie. She turned and starred at the stairs. She went back and forth a few times opening and closing her mouth, but the only sound that came out was a high squeak.

Bonnie wasn’t fairing much better. She swallowed, starred at the empty space, dropped her unseeing gaze to the grimoire and looked back up. After a long moment she managed a strangled word.

“G-gone.”

“Spell…” Caroline nodded, blinking. She had started talking early in life, gaining the title of a chatterbox, and hadn’t stopped even when she didn’t know the proper words for things, but for the first time in seventeen years of speaking she couldn’t come up with two syllables to string together.

She mentally scolded herself but the words wouldn’t come.

The sound of a vibrating cell phone snapped her eyes from the vacant air to Elena’s fallen bad. She picked up the purse, extracted the cell phone and read the caller ID. Words instantly flooded her mouth.

“Seriously?” She pressed the phone to her ear and just managed to suppress her shriek. “We are on vacation.”

“I’m only checking in, love.”

Caroline frowned at the sound in his voice; it had dropped to the dangerous level he preferred for threatening his enemies; it was a tone he had never used with her.

“The whole point of this road trip was to get away from you and your check-ins,” she rolled her eyes.

Bonnie snapped out of her daze and focused on the spell book.

“You may be out of town, but that will not stop me from checking in. I trust you’ll be back by Monday.”

“Sunday night,” Caroline tapped her foot, “we’ve got school.”

“And you’ll have found my missing doppelganger in time for AP Chemistry?”

The blood drained from Caroline’s face when she looked at the empty space on the steps. She gritted her teeth, spun in a slow circle to peer around the old lanes of the cemetery.

“Firstly, our first class is AP Biology.” She sucked in a quick breath and then continued in a rush. “Secondly, her name is Elena. Thirdly, she’s not yours, and fourthly she’s not missing, so go ahead and tell whatever hybrid you’ve got following us to back off because we know exactly where she is.”

She hung up the phone with an angry jab of her finger and turned to Bonnie. Her hands landed on her hips as she took a deep breath.

“Where is she?” Caroline forced her voice to remain calm.

“I don’t know,” Bonnie shook her head. “The spell was supposed to reveal what was hidden. It was supposed to open the door ‘to that which has been forgotten’.”

“Why don’t you tell us a little more about this spell?” A slow voice drawled from the shadows.

Caroline and Bonnie spun around quickly. The heavy grimoire would have fallen from Bonnie’s hand if a vampire hadn’t rushed forward to grab it. The second man had creamy brown skin and curly hair; he held the book aloft and spoke faster than his companion.

“Didn’t anyone tell you there’s no magic in this city?” He sneered.

“Give that back,” Bonnie’s eyes narrowed. She needed the book to get Elena back.

“I don’t think you’re grasping the severity of your situation, witch,” he scoffed. “Magic is forbidden; you practice, you die.”

“Diego,” the first man stepped out of the shadows. He adjusted the flat cap on his head and held out his hand. “Let me see that.”

Caroline shifted closer to Bonnie as the man flipped the book over. His long fingers caressed the spine with an air of familiarity. She frowned when he looked straight at Bonnie with bright eyes.

“Bonnie Bennett?” His brows rose hopefully.

“Yeah,” Bonnie frowned, “and who are you?”

“Could we get on with killing the witch now, Thierry?” Diego rolled his eyes.

“Nah, man,” he smirked, “this one’s approved.”

“Marcel knows about it?” Diego crossed his arms. “If it’s approved why’d he send us out here?” He flashed over the cobblestones and pinned Bonnie to the side of the mausoleum by her shoulders.

“That’s a bad idea man,” Thierry warned.

“Let her go!” Caroline rushed Diego, but before she could touch him he swept an arm back and tossed her into the stone wall of a nearby tomb.

++++

The first rush of air burned her lungs. The second was work.

She pried her eyes open and focused on the layer of dust that blanketed the Chemistry lab. The air was too heavy; she couldn’t get enough oxygen so she stood from the daybed and stumbled to the door.

The sound of a scuffle drew her eyes up and she moved with a renewed energy to spin the locking mechanism. Blinking against the bright afternoon light brought the scene into stark focus and made her blood boil.

She moved in a blur of motion and tore the man from Bonnie. A feral sound rose in her throat as she glared at him.

“Elena?” Caroline whispered.

“I told you it was a bad idea, man,” he chuckled.

Caroline got to her feet slowly and stared at the brunette. She was wearing the same clothes down to the blue ankle boots, but the fabric appeared to be faded. There was a silver locket Caroline had never seen before around her neck, but the thing that made her heart stutter were her friend’s contorted facial features. Her eyes were completely red, and underneath the flood of blood black veins pulsed over her cheekbones. White fangs poked out from between her red lips.

“What happened to you?” Bonnie whispered.

“Who the hell are you?” Diego dusted the stone from his jacket. “Vampires ain’t supposed to protect witches.”

Caroline and Bonnie watched in silence as Elena’s eyes returned to normal and shift to the first man.

“Is he going to be a problem, Thierry?”

“Witches don’t rule the Quarter anymore,” he glanced at Diego, “Marcel is in charge now, and witches caught practicing are put to death.” His voice grew quiet when her eyes narrowed. “It’s a new rule.”

Elena nodded and turned her attention back to Diego. Authority dripped from her tongue.

“You are not going to harm a hair on my friend’s head.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” Diego scoffed, looking down his nose at the short brunette.

“I don’t think you heard me,” she smiled sweetly and advanced. Her hand flattened over his heart. Looking into his eyes she dropped her voice to a persuasive purr. “You are not going to harm my friend.”

Diego nodded, numbly.

“Now be a good little boy and take a message to Marcel,” she smiled when he nodded again, but her voice had hardened. “Tell him Elena is back and that he has a lot of explaining to do.”

She removed her hand from his chest and broke eye contact, watching as he shook himself from the hypnotic stupor and flashed away. She could feel the confused stares of her friends.

“Did you just compel a vampire?” Caroline swallowed.

“What did I do to you?” Horror flashed in Bonnie’s eyes.

“You didn’t do this, Bon,” Elena exhaled slowly. She ran her tongue over her aching gums. “It’s a very long story, and I need to tell off a vampire before I can really get into it. Aside from the power trip with the witches?”

“The wolves were run out of town. He’s older than you,” Thierry reminded her.

“He might be older, sweetie,” Elena turned around bringing her hand up to cup his cheek, “but I’m stronger. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I haven’t seen you in eighteen and a half years,” Thierry’s eyes narrowed. “Sue me for not wanting to lose my mother again after just getting her back.”

“Mother?” Caroline’s jaw dropped.

“Like I said,” Elena bit her bottom lip, “it’s a long story that I will gladly regale you with on the journey back to Mystic Falls.”

“You’re a vampire, and you’re gonna go flaunt that in Klaus’ face?” Bonnie gaped.

“In case you haven’t figured it out yet,” Elena flashed a teasing smile, “I’ve been gone longer than a few minutes, and in that time I’ve made a list of people I need to tell off. I finally know where Klaus is gonna be, so yeah I’m gonna rub this in his face. Thierry, perhaps you could give me the cliff-notes of the situation with the witches?”

“Botched Harvest.”

Tags: @elejah-wonderland @eternityunicorn @elejahforever @morsmornte @fandomrulesall @xanderling @kol-and-elena-fanfiction

#kol mikaelson #mary alice claire #elena gilbert #thierry vanchure #caroline forbes #bonnie bennett #klaus mikaelson #astrid #the originals #the vampire diaries #time travel

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lo-lynx · 4 years

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Femininity in the Harry Potter books

I started writing this essay over a month ago, before (as it felt like) all hell broke loose regarding JK Rowling’s transphobic tweet. As a genderqueer person myself, her comments hurt. I have loved the Harry Potter novels since I was a teenager and have often found solace in both the magic of the story and the magic of the community around these books. So, in immediate aftermath of Rowling’s comments, I struggled with how to engage with this community and these books. At first, I really did not feel like continuing to write this analysis. Now, however, I felt like I at least owe it to my love of this series and fandom to finish it. So here we go:

Last year I wrote a post about how several of the villains in Harry Potter seem to be coded as queer. In that text I also wrote that I sometime would analyse the way femininity is portrayed in the Harry Potter books. Well, studying, work, and writing other stuff got in the way, but now I’m finally getting around to it! This post is definitely inspired by some of the conversations from the excellent podcast The Quibbler, where they lament some of descriptions of feminine characters in the books. So, shout out to them, do go check them out! In this analysis I’m going to lay out several different aspects of what I see as problematic portrayals of femininity in the Harry Potter books: the silly girls, the villainous feminine men, and the (queer coded) feminine evil women.

Now, I first want to focus on what I describe as “the silly girls”. When reading descriptions of girls in the Harry Potter novels, I can’t help seeing how many of them are portrayed in a way that Julia Serano might call “traditionally sexist” (2007, 326). Serano describes traditional sexism thusly:

Traditional sexism functions to make femaleness and femininity appear subordinate to maleness and masculinity. (…) For example, female and feminine attributes are regularly assigned negative connotations and meanings in our society. An example of this is the way that being in touch with and expressing one’s emotions is regularly derided in our society. (…) in the public mind, being “emotional” has become synonymous with being “irrational”. Another example is that certain pursuits and interests that are considered feminine, such as gossiping or decorating, are often characterised as “frivolous”, while masculine preoccupations- even those that serve solely recreational functions, such as sports- generally escape such trivialization. (Serano 2007, 326-327)

That is to say, that which is deemed feminine is seen as silly and irrational. Unfortunately this fits quite well with how a lot of the girls are portrayed in the novels, such as in the fourth novel before the Yule Ball: “Girls giggling and whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night …” (Rowling 2000, 338) This motif of giggling girls returns many times, with Harry even thinking about Parvati that: “[He] was relieved to see that she wasn’t giggling.” (ibid 358) Speaking of Parvati, her and Lavender are continually portrayed as silly girls throughout the series, such as in this moment in Order of the Phoenix:

‘I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up on Divination now, don’t you Hermione?’ asked Parvati, smirking.

It was breakfast time, two days after the sacking of Professor Trelawney, and Parvati was curling her eyelashes around her wand and examining the effect in the back of her spoon. They were to have their first lesson with Firenze that morning.

‘Not really,’ said Hermione indifferently, who was reading the Daily Prophet. ‘I’ve never really liked horses.’

She turned a page of the newspaper and scanned its columns.

‘He’s not a horse, he’s a centaur!’ said Lavender, sounding shocked.

‘A gorgeous centaur…’ sighed Parvati. (Rowling 2004, 528)

Here Parvati and Lavender’s apparent crushes on Firenze is portrayed as silly, and their focus on their appearance is probably meant to be seen as frivolous. It is also starkly contrasted with Hermione’s apparent rationality, especially as she is sitting reading a newspaper in the scene.

Now, how about the men in the story, are they not portrayed negatively as well? Well, yes, of course. But when looking at some of the male “villains” of the story, many of them are described as quite feminine as well. In my previous text I noted how this was the case for Lockhart for example, who is described like this when the reader first meets him:

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue which exactly matched his eyes, his pointed wizard’s hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair. (Rowling 2010, 49)

Lockhart is here (and throughout Chambers of Secrets) described as both vain, and quite feminine with his stylish outfits. These traits are part of what marks him out as an unlikable character. I noted above how Julia Serano writes about traditional sexism that traits and interests that are deemed feminine (such as caring about clothes) are devalued. Serano also writes about oppositional sexism, which she describes as the idea feminine attributes are seen as natural in women, and unnatural in men (2007, 326). Similarly, Lockhart’s “feminine” seems to be perceived as abnormal/bad in the story.

Another male villain that is described as feminine is Quirrell. When Harry sees him at the welcoming feast in the first book, he is described like this: “Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.” (Rowling 1997, 134). Both the nervousness and the turban later turn out to be part of Quirrell’s disguise as one of Voldemort’s agents. The nervousness making him seem less capable of evil deeds, and the turban hiding the fact that Voldemort is living as a parasite on his head. Both of these disguises are interesting in relation to femininity though. Stephen Whitehead writes that as a man one is expected to embody strength, toughness and control over physical space (2002, 189). He contrasts this with how women are expected to embody caution, restraint etc. With Quirrell’s nervousness (and re-occurring stutter) it is quite clear that he comes off as more feminine than masculine. Another thing is this turban that he wears. Based on his physical description Quirrell seems to be a white Englishman (he is described as “pale” when he is first introduced) (Rowling 1997, 80). Later he claims that this turban was a gift from an African prince for helping him get rid of a zombie (ibid, 147). So, it seems established that this turban is seen as strange on him, and that is connected to Africa. The way this is described makes me think of orientalism. Now, what is orientalism? It is a term that is meant to describe the way Europeans have viewed “the Orient” historically and to this day. This often entails seeing people from this region as savage, sexually depraved, but also viewing the men as emasculated and week (Carroll 2018, 121). (I’m referencing this specific book because I happened to have it on hand, but a lot of different people have written on texts on this theme). In story, Quirrell claims that he (the white Englishman) got this turban as a gift from helping an African prince (it should be noted that “Africa” is very vague, I’m here choosing to see it as part of “the Orient”, but it’s not necessarily that). The other characters doubt this story, but it does tie in with the perception of “oriental” men as week (and in need of help). But Quirrell wearing a turban also ties him to this image, and perhaps makes him seem even more effeminate.

Finally, I want to touch on a theme that I wrote also about in the text about queer coded villains in the Harry Potter books, that of the female villains. Here I’ll focus on Dolores Umbridge and Rita Skeeter, and how their femininity is part of what is meant to make the reader think of them as bad. When we first meet Skeeter, she is described like this:

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jewelled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two inch-nails, painted crimson. (Rowling 2000, 266)

So, the description makes her sound feminine, but there’s also something off with her rigid curls, heavy-jawed face, and long red nails. This reminds me of how feminist theorist Ulrika Dahl describes that being femme can be queer (2016). By doing femininity wrong, for instance in a way that is seen as trashy, one can come off queer. Another way of seeing this is to analyse the way that Umbridge is described:

She looked, Harry thought, as someone’s maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan that she wore over her robes. (Rowling 2004, 183)

I want to note two things here. Firstly, that she is described as a maiden aunt, that is a woman who is of an age where she should be married with children but are not. Clearly, she’s breaking the expected life pattern of a woman here. Secondly, the way her clothes are described makes her seem girlish, which is the same way her voice is described as on several occasions. Her appearance is not what is expected of a woman of her age. This puts me in mind of what Elizabeth Freeman describes as temporal drag (2000). Freeman writes that when we as children learn how to perform our gender properly, mainly by imitating our parents, we must also learn how to adapt this to our own time. So, while a woman is expected to learn from her mother how to be a woman, she cannot simply copy the mother’s look. Freeman points out that if she herself were to copy the way her own mother looked during Freeman’s childhood (ca 1970) she would not look normative at all. But we can play with this temporal crossing for queer effect if we wish. I do not think this is was Umbridge consciously does, but her femininity does have a somewhat queer effect because of the way it does not fit her age.

So, in conclusion, we can see that throughout the Harry Potter novels, several feminine characters are described in a negative way. Both “good” characters such as the silly girls, and more “evil” ones such as Lockhart, Quirrell, Skeeter, and Umbridge. These latter ones also have a somewhat queer coding. With Quirrell there is also a sort of racialised femininity, with the description of his turban. It is unfortunate that these characters are described this way, however, it rings true to negative stereotypes from our own world.

I’m not sure how to finish this analysis to be quite honest. It makes me sad to find all of these elements in the books that I have loved. But, to be quite honest, it’s possible problematic things in most works of fiction when you start looking. Nonetheless, this last month or so has been tough on my love of the Harry Potter novels and community. Going forward I want to try to focus on the more positive aspects of them, such as the magic this community makes together (while remembering the more negative things of course). I’m not sure how. But I felt like I had to get this text out there first. So here it is.

References

Carroll, Shiloh. 2018. Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer.

Dahl, U. 2016. “Queering Femininity”. lambda nordica. 2016/1-2, pp. 7-20.

Freeman, Elizabeth. 2000. ’Packing History, Count(er)ing Generations’ New Literary History, 31(4): 727-744.

Rowling, J.K. 1997. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s stone. London: Bloomsbury.

Rowling, J. K. 1998. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. London: Bloomsbury.

Rowling, J.K. 2000. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. London: Bloomsbury.

Rowling, J.K. 2004. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. London: Bloomsbury

Serano, Julia. 2007. Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity. Seal Press, San Francisco

Whitehead, Stephen M. 2002. Men and Masculinities, Cambridge and Malden: Polity.

#hp #Harry Potter #feminism #cw: sexism

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

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Tommy Hilfiger x Zendaya Inspired Outfits: Lookbook no.6

Hi to anyone reading,

This post is part a Zendaya Maree Stoermer Coleman appreaciation post (yes, we getting back into that 2013 stan twitter lingo of always unnecessarily stating full names) and part me trying my hand at her interpretation of probably my all time favourite decade for fashion inspiration, the 70s.

As much as I’m in love with her portrayal of Rue Bennett on Euphoria and her and Labrinth’s All for Love and could also probably write a whole post about that alone *deep breath*, I’m here to talk about what originally drew me to Zendaya (aside from her Oscar-worthy performance as Rocky Blue on Shake it Up where she had to act like she and Bella Thorne liked each other) : HER STYLE. Her looks a collaborative effort between her and stylist, Law Roach, I have never once seen any photo of Zendaya where she’s anything less than exquisitely put together, thus it should’ve come as no surprise when she teamed up with Tommy Hilfiger to put on one of the coolest shows of Paris Fashion Week in February this year.

-ZENDAYA’S BEST STREET STYLE/RED CARPET MOMENTS-

Whilst the collaborations with Tommy Hilfiger haven’t necessarily been the most visually groundbreaking or daring, for me personally they really hit the sweet spot between the bohemian aesthetic and a rock and roll edge, especially in the latest collection. For a celebrity collaboration, the line feels unusually authentic and the clear direction and overall cohesiveness showcases Zendaya’s ability to convey a distinctive mood. Also, it’s WEARABLE. So many of the outfits you see go down the runway only appear to cater to that tall, washed out, willowy type, who are gorgeous too, don’t get me wrong, but...well, they’ve had their time, haven’t they? These are the kinds of clothes everyone can feel beautiful in and that’s so, so important.

-ZENDAYA WEARING THE COLLECTION-

The first collection, debuting in February of this year at Paris Fashion Week, went the disco route and was the best thing Tommy Hilfiger has done in a while. Everything from the set to the models to the music was so fucking FUN and you could tell how much love and passion went into planning the show. I had so many favourite looks:

And I honestly think I might have liked the recent collection even more. With a slightly biker chic element to it, the leather look pieces and the jewell tones, I think this one has a grungier feel to it that the previous collection lacked, in terms of catering to my personal preference, that is; yes, catering to me, random girl on the internet they’ve never met before was definitely Zendaya and Tommy’s intention. Why wouldn’t it be?

Again, it’s not something that’s never been done before but the collection is fresh in a different way, almost like the individual makes the clothes what they are and not vice versa. I doubt any fashion show is so laxly organised as to let the models style themselves backstage but that’s the feeling you get when you’re watching the runway.

Like I said, this collection is definitely slightly darker and grungier than the first but in a way that it gives me Stevie Nicks joins a biker gang but then decides to leave that behind to become the editor of a fashion magazine vibes (that was a TRIP) and what’s not to like about that? I want all of it, from the waistcoats, to the wide brim hats, to the houndstooth, to the snake print, to the shearling.

There’s just one problem in that at the time of first seeing the collection I was still in the middle of a self-enforced shopping dry spell, and also, more pressingly, broke af. To be fair, Tommy Hilfiger is one of the more affordable designer brands but still not affordable enough that I can afford to spend over £100 on a bodysuit, ya feel? So instead, I looked through what I already had and used the runway looks from the collection to try and put my own spin on things, incorporating the key shapes, colours, patterns and accessories that make the line, imo, so distinctive.

-KEY FEATURES OF THE TOMMY X ZENDAYA LINES-

1. Flares: If you really want your outfit to give off a 70s vibe, flares are probably the easiest way to do it. Even if you’re not feeling particularly adventurous with prints, plain ones are still super flattering, imo!

2. Wide Brim Hats: Not exactly a hard one for me to incorporate as they're probably my favourite way to tie together an outfit anyway, but the ultra wide brim, witchy-looking ones seen in the second collection are perfect for autumn and winter AND cost-efficient because they can double as part of a low-effort slutty witch Halloween costume. We love a multi-purpose accessory.

3. Psychedelic Prints: More of a staple of the first collaboration but bold, trippy prints are so easy to make into a look. It’s definitely easier to incorporate these kind of prints into your wardrobe in the summer (there’s nothing cuter than a wacky two piece with some subtle jewellery), but if you go for a piece with a richer, deeper colour palette you’ve got yourself a fab Christmas party outfit.

4. Turtlenecks: Showing why the turtleneck has so much style potential, Zendaya’s collections were a masterclass in how to layer. I can’t believe there was a time in my life when I thought turtle necks were the ugliest thing ever. I am ashamed. Though I blame this cursed face-swap image of Monica and Chandler from friends for putting me off:

I also found this haunting image in the process of searching for the one above:

Is this what they mean when they talk about the dark web? Truly scarring.

5. Snake Print: Not gonna lie, the animal print thing has kinda been done to death and I wasn’t super excited about seeing it on the runway but when it’s reworked through a more maximalist lens (ie. the matching snake print coat and trousers) it still works for me. I think they key in keeping it fresh is more luxurious, textured animal print paired with clothing you wouldn’t necessarily expect to see it with. Basically, animal print mini dress? Boring. Animal print flares? I’m down.

6. Faux Leather: I say faux leather even though unfortunately it’s usually real leather that gets used on the runway (because nothing shows luxury like wearing a dead animal’s skin purely for vanity, right?), but regardless, some of my favourite pieces in both collections were the leather-look coats and blazers. The waistcoat-trouser combination in particular (far left on the bottom row) was probably my favourite look of both collections and though I relentlessly scoured my dad’s wardrobe to see if there was something I could work with to imitate the waistcoat, I came away empty handed:( sad times:(

7. Jewell Tones: The deep maroons of the second Zendaya x Tommy collaboration and the cobalt, emerald green and amethyst splashes in the dresses at the end of the first are, again, perfect Christmas party colours. I know, I know, I keep going on about Christmas parties but any excuse to drink, lol.

8. Scarfs: Skinny scarves with a load of gold jewellery are my favourite things at the moment. But we can’t forget the original style icon who did it first:

I love Emma Roberts and Wild Child is a great movie with a load of amazing style inspo, fuck you Rotten Tomatoes.

9. Heeled Boots: Kind of a basic winter staple anyway but it seems the more cowboy-y, the better. We’re talking about those leather look, mid-calf length boots that seem to be everywhere at the moment. Personally, I’m not quite sure if my legs are anywhere long enough to pull them off, but I do think they’re really cute, and very yeehaw.

10. Bonus features that I forgot to include in my outfits: High Waisted Things! Waistcoats! Pussy-bow shirts! Spots! Velvet! Suits!

-PSA: Don’t ask me about the peace sign. I was trying to do a 70s thing. I failed. Let me flop at my attempts to be cute in peace.-

So, that’s it! Thank you to anybody that read this far! And if you enjoyed this post and you haven’t done already: GO AND WATCH EUPHORIA. It is honestly the best new show I’ve watched in ages and almost makes up for the overwhelming TV-related disappointment of season 8 of Game of Thrones. I mean, not really. I’m still mildly furious. But then again, D&D got cut from their Star Wars deal AND the Stark prequel was cancelled in favour of a Targaryen one so it seems the balance of nature is finally being restored. Clink clink bitch (es).

Lauren x

#zendaya #tommyhilfiger #fashionweek #ss20 #pfw #rtw2020 #spring 2020 rtw #lookbook #styling #fashion #euphoria

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petitprincess1 · 5 years

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My Heroic AU (Now With OCs)

Warning: Long(er) Post!

I’m back at it again with another thing explaining my Heroic Au. Figured that I should probably explain some of my OCs (even though the main four are technically OCs too, but shush). So, for those who are interested, click here to read my first post (for those who read it, now they got heights and ages) about my AU. I would say you don’t have to read that one, but it helps to get a gist of things. But if you dont want to, here’s the main idea:

Central/Main Idea: Mine are more on the chaotic good side of things than lawful because I find it more fun and they kind of explore the whole “if villains can kill and destroy and people just accept it, why can’t a hero do the same, especially when justified and with a corrupt justice system?” Basically, whenever a hero does anything like kill or destroy, no matter the reason, they are automatically seen as corrupt or they have a dying need to be stopped, even more so than villains. My Heroic characters basically exist to prove such a thought wrong…even if they aren’t the most mentally balanced people.

Also, I will be using imaged from others that I have commissioned/requested, while also tagging them. If they do not wish for me to use their drawings, then that is perfectly fine

Sayua Kobayashi/Cross-Boa (created by @little-geecko) Age: 34-35 Height: ~7 foot at full height, but can be about 6 foot 8 Job: Hero for hire/Archer Species: Naga (even though she doesn’t know how to shape-shift) Background: Very little is known about Sayua’s past, due to her being found as a baby in the middle of the forest…and her not willing to tell anyone about her background. Her parents, who were elders, often taught her to stay within the wilderness and often keep moving, due to them being nomads. They also taught her how to live off the land, how to defend herself, teaching her archery and how to create/fix her own weapons.

Her parents ended up dying, due to natural causes, when Sayua was 19, forcing her to live on her own. She didn’t really bother moving from where they last had made shelter, since it was in a pretty well-protected and bountiful. And because she didn’t want to leave her adoptive parents’ graves. Everything was pretty calm as she did whatever she could to take care of herself, until a year or two later someone had ransacked her place and her parents’ graves were dug up.

Sayua was able to track them down easily to a small town and had gathered information from people (who she snapped at few times from them taking too long to answer her) from where the thief seemed to be located. When she found them, it seemed like she had found them also having an illegal pawning business where they basically stole whatever they could from people, sell it off, and run before cops are notified. Needless to say, she was going to give them hell for disrupting her peace and interrupting her parents’ eternal peace.When she came out with a few wounds, bruises and only a fractured arm, as well as the criminals being taken away, Sayua was approached by a man with a white top hat that was very interested in her deed. Personality: She’s a very strong-willed woman with a fiery temper, while also taking absolutely no shit from anyone. if you ever tell her that her short temper and snappy behavior is from being alone in a forest for so many years, she’ll tell you it’s not, while also holding a sickle to your throat. Despite her behavior, she also is a natural leader and will often take the lead or make the first move.

She also tends to be very indifferent to what your status is and what you have down. So, it’s pretty hard to intimidate her, but she does have her limits. just hardly ever shows them. Don’t expect her to be terrified of people like Demencia or Flug because the moment they breathe to even say one sentence, Sayua will yell, “HOLY SHIT! JUST KILL ME ALREADY!” …She’s impatient.

Despite all these “negatives”, she does have a soft spot that she shows from time-to-time and will often try to inspire younger heroes to work harder to be their best. …Does telling people that they will die if they don’t man up count as inspiration? Also, she may or may not be asexual. She just says that she would rather not figure out how snakes have sex. That and Lucius doesn’t make it any better with all the sex jokes he makes.

~~~

Lucius Wickes/Heartbreaker/Reaper (created by @skribblie) Age: 25 Height: 5 foot 8 Job: Hero for hire/Womanizer Species: Incubus Background: Lucius did live a pretty normal-ish life with his dad being a former demon from Hell that was one of Satan’s warriors, banishing all those that dare get in his way, and his mom being an accountant. He was raised and born in New Orleans, where his dad retired and met his mom. Lucius also met his ex-fiancee, Maria (yes, I know that Metauro’s ex-wife is named Maria. I made these backgrounds a long time ago…I am not changing anything). The two hit it off very quickly, due to Maria being immune to his passive infatuation ability and being more into just him, which he found absolutely incredible. He hadn’t really met anyone that wasn’t into him for simply being an incubus. Plus, Maria was also really into the supernatural, so that was something that put him at ease.

The two ended up leaving out of New Orleans to a smaller town that wasn’t even really on the map. Maria wanted to go there because she had always wanted to live a small, simple life and Lucius wanted to go there to propose. Unfortunately, neither got what they wanted.

Lucius refuses to say what all exactly happened, being vague on purpose to seem guiltier, except that her death was on his hands and that Maria’s last words were: “It’s not your fault.” …A man with a white hat also found him covered in blood, in the middle of a city that was littered with bodies, and had a thousand mile stare in his eyes. The only thing that made him snap out of it was of the man promising that he will make him atone for his sins. Personality: Lucius is a quick-witted smartass that really knows how to and when to get on somebody’s nerves. He has an extreme ego and isn’t afraid to boast about his best qualities He always looks for any opportunity to make an explicit joke or even to seduce someone. He will fervently deny that it’s some kind of self-medication and just say that it’s the price of being a demon. He also loves to play around or mess with people in any way that he can, even if it means that they may want to punch or kill him afterwards.

He’s the kind of guy that likes to cheat death or toe the line of danger, whatever gets his adrenaline pumping and unleashes a bit of the sleeping hellish beast within him. Whether that be through sex or even a bit murder, he’s all up for it. His preferred weapon is a hatchet or an axe.

Lucius can also barely control his demonic side and often keeps it under wraps. The only time he uses it is when in an emergency or when they both have a common end goal, which rarely happens. White Hat must be present when his demon side is let loose or else he’ll lose control fairly quickly and go on a rampage.

Lucius also often attends bars and even will be a bartender or even put on a show for the people. Anyone of any gender or configuartion loves him and loves them for helping him forget how much he hates himself.

~~~

Mari Belmont/The Marionettist (created by a friend and @redmoondragon-art) Age: 16 Height: 5 foot Job: Assassin for hire/Student Background: Mari was born without any powers or anything really all that unique. However, her father was researching a way to genetically engineer a hero. He didn’t really have any other test subjects, but Mari, who was 5 years old at the time, had volunteered to help him. Mari’s mom was against her helping her father, but after a long argument, she realized that she wasn’t going to win. So, she just only wished for her to be closely monitored and safe. There isn’t much to her background, since she’s so young, but the process to become what she is now was very long and grueling. She often remembers times waking up in the middle of the night in her test tube, almost drowning. Personality: Despite her age, Mari often is the mother of any group that she’s a part of. Always making sure that everyone is ready and taken care. She also had taken dancing and aerial silks lessons when she was around 10. It was just something that she always found interesting and graceful. Mari also loves any activity that requires any bit of creativity or using her hands.

Her powers also allows her use her strings like a tightrope, aerial silks (without even hurting herself), and that she can swing on. Not only that, but she also can use them to control peoples’ minds and make them like her puppet, which she often just makes them kill themselves with whatever is nearby.

She also is extremely playful and hyperactive. She will also defend the actions of her parents, especially to those that dare pretend they know better. She also attends White Hat hero academy whenever she has free-time. ..What do you mean you have to register?

~~~

Panna “Pan” Ward/Pandora (created by @lightpudding) Age: 10-12 Height: 4 foot 4 Job: Freelance hero Background: Pan was very sick when she was born, an illness that attacked at her throat. Luckily, she was saved, but it cost her her vocal chords, rendering her mute, excluding a few small, quiet noises. Her parents were pretty kept in the shadows, even keeping some of their life away from Pan. All that is known that they were into the dark magic and even, rumored, satanism.However, they made sure that Pan was given as much care and love that she deserved, even home-schooling her and teaching her a bit of sign language.

Unfortunately. Pan only knew her parents for 9 years, due to a random attack that happened in her house. She had no idea what was happening because her parents hid her away in a closet. When everything had quieted down, she found her house completely in ruins and her parents dead bodies. She also found a jack-in-the-box near their bodies that was latched shut with a note, reading, “Take this and defend yourself. You’re the new Pandora.”

Pan wasn’t afraid of the demons that lurked within, especially if it meant that they could help avenge her parents’ death. Personality: Pandora makes sure that everyone is okay before herself. It can even just be a random villain that she’s fighting. She’ll always come up to them with a small first-aid kit that she keeps in her box and makes sure they’re okay to go home. Although, a bandaid in a large, gaping hole in someone’s stomach may not help all that much. They still appreciate it though.

Her favorite demon in the toy box is a large creature that has hundreds of eyes all over his body, gnashing mouths, large, skin-tearing claws, and deep, timber voice that shakes the very ground. He has caused many deaths, made Satan himself even tremble in fear, created many widows, and has devastated thousands of armies. …Pan named him Lord Fluffybottom. He takes that name with great pride.

Pandora loves learning anything new and often will not ask for help, even if she’s too short to reach for something or has a hard time understanding. Pan also realizes that she is pretty much useless without her jack-in-the-box, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to help or fight, even if her hits amount to nothing. Luckily, not many people are willing to fight a defenseless child, even if she does take that as an insult.

Pan created the dress herself as a way to remember her parents, since it’s made from several pieces of fabric from their and her clothes. Not only that, but she doesn’t live in one place for too long and often moves from place-to-place. ~~~ I have more OCs, but they don’t have images and this going on for a bit long. I may make a part two. I hope that you guys like them and sorry if their stories may be edgy.

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 6 years

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it’s fine

[ a louisentine oneshot ]

Summary: During a game of war, Louis reveals the reason he was sent to Ericson.

Warnings: The reason isn’t a good one...

Just a little story inspired by this ask I saw for @louisentine-is-good-shit

---

“Okay, I gotta know.”

“Hmmm?”

“What’s your deal with cantaloupe?”

“You mean, what’s my deal with the most despicable thing grown on this earth?”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“When was the last time you had one? I guarantee that if you had one right now, you’d take a bite and say, ‘wow, this is worse than eating walker guts!’”

“Oh, geez.” Clem rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.”

“Perfectly dramatic enough!” Louis argued.

Clem shook her head, a small grin tugging at her lips. She had to admit it: she was having fun. When Louis suggested a card game to the group, like he usually does, it seemed that no one was interested. After everything that went down with Lily and the raiders and the big rescue, they were still in recovery mode.

Most went along with their new nightly routines or back to their rooms, leaving Louis with his stack of cards and a discouraged frown.

That was when she realized that it had been weeks since they had actually spent any time together. Sure, they went hunting and they ate together, and he was practically spending every night in her and AJ’s room, but as far as alone time goes that didn’t have to do with planning or their everyday survival...

Hell, that had to be when they shared their first kiss at the piano.

So, Clementine was determined. She sent AJ off with Tenn to finish coloring before it was their turn for watch duty, and then she approached Louis with a smile. She suggested they go play a private game, one on one.

Needless to say, he was thrilled.

He practically pulled her arm out of its socket while dragging her into his room.

There they sat beside each other on his mattress covered with countless pillows with their shoulders pressed together and feet bumping against one another. Each held a handful of cards from Louis’ infamous deck.

Clem pinched his arm. “Seriously, do you really hate cantaloupe that much? Or are you just exaggerating to be funny?” She was honestly curious.

Louis bit his lip, his grin slowly fading.

“My mom always bought it,” he finally said. “Sometimes she would plop this big bowl of cantaloupe in front of me. Then, she wouldn’t let me leave the table until I ate one full slice.” He frowned. “It was disgusting.”

Clem perked a brow. “So, you were a picky eater?”

His face faltered briefly, then he obnoxiously stuck his nose in the air. “I prefer to say I had high standards,” Louis mocked a terrible accent she couldn’t place. It made her giggle all the same.

He flipped over his next card. Clem did the same.

She held a seven of spades, and he a king of hearts. He smirked. “Ah-ha! The card master is victorious once again!”

“Alright, alright, ask your question,” said Clem.

He tapped the rim of her hat lightly. “Where’d you get this?”

Clem reached up and softly touched the worn fabric on her hat, softly smiling. “My dad. He gave it to me before they left for Savannah. I’ve had it since… since the world went to shit.”

“I can tell,” said Louis. “It’s pretty beat.”

“Yeah, it’s been through one or two disasters.” Clem pulled it off her head and looked at the peeling D. She carefully pulled at it to see if more would come up. It did.

“Here,” Louis reached over and shuffled around in one of his nightstand drawers. “C’mon… Ah-ha!” He held out a small tube of superglue. “See if that’ll help.”

“Thank you.” Clem gratefully grabbed the tube. It was old and crusty, but she managed to get some product on onto the material and push the D patch down.

“I take it you two were close?” he asked.

“Yeah. You could argue that I was totally a daddy’s girl.” She glanced up at Louis, who was watching her fingers work with a small smile.

“That’s...” Louis grabbed her free hand, entwining their fingers together, “...great. I’m happy you have good memories of them.”

“Me, too.”

“Still don’t know what this means, though,” he mumbled to himself, reaching over and running a finger over the D patch.

“Want me to tell you?”

“Nope,” Louis grinned. “I like a little mystery to spice up a relationship.” He winked.

Clem couldn’t have stopped her eyes from rolling even if she tried. “You are such a dork.”

“Me? No.”

She playfully nudged him and flipped over her next card. He followed suit.

A queen of spades smiled at her while a two of hearts laughed at Louis.

“Looks like I’m taking your title as the ‘card master,’“ she smirked.

“We’ll see about that,” he grinned. “Still got plenty of cards left. Ask away.”

Clem thought for a moment. She peered around his room before something popped into her head. She lifted up one of the many, many pillows laying around.

“Why are you such a pillow hog?”

“Pillow hog? What makes you think that?”

Clem gave him a deadpan stare then motioned around them.

“I don’t see what you mean,” he claimed with faux innocence. “If anything, I’m shorthanded.”

“Right,” she giggled. “Seriously, though, did you, like, go around to all the empty rooms and take them?”

“That is exactly what I did.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Louis drawled, “the original plan was to build the biggest, most badass pillow fort ever conceived by man.”

“But?”

“But,” he glanced away, sheepishly, “then when I was trying to put the top pillows up, I fell and about broke my nose. Marlon thought I was gonna die.”

“Seriously?” Clem’s eyes narrowed at him, studying his face. “Wait...” her eyes widened in realization, “is that how you lost that tooth?”

“No!” he quickly objected. “I told you: I was wrestling with a mama cougar when I lost it!”

“Oh, really? Because, if I recall, you told AJ you lost it when you saved Aasim from ‘certain death’ while you guys were fishing.”

“That shark came out of nowhere, I swear.” Louis shook his head, tsking. “You’d think Aasim would be much more appreciative of me after that.”

That earned him a smack in the chest with a soft pillow. “Louis!” she giggled.

“What?”

“I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Hey, I’m super serious, like, all the time!”

“Now you’re just lying!”

Louis snatched the pillow from her, wrapping his arms around it and tucking it under his chin. After the giggles subsided, he let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

“Fine,” he said. “Truthfully?”

She looked at him expectantly.

“...I totally fell off the chair and smacked my face on the desk.” He ran his finger from his mouth and through the air, whistling. “There it went.”

She cringed. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” he gave a full toothy smile. “But, it’s fine. I didn’t need that tooth, anyway.”

Clem’s heart fluttered a bit. “Well, if it makes you feel better, your smile’s even cuter without it.”

He tensed up a bit before a nervous laugh rumbled in his chest. “Again with the cute thing.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” she teased.

He reached over with a wink and a grin and flipped his next card. An ace of spades. Clem lost with her five of hearts.

“So, you don’t have to answer this, but…” Louis hesitated. He reached over and intertwined their fingers again. “...could you tell me something about Lee?”

A surprised jolt ran through her stomach. While thinking about Lee still hurt every damn day, she couldn’t deny that she wanted to talk about him, about how kind he was, how he saved her life in more ways than she could ever count. She told AJ stories about Lee sometimes before bed when he needed some coaxing to sleep.

After everything he did for her, the least she could do is pass on his memory to anyone willing to listen.

“You don’t-”

“No, it’s okay,” said Clem. “Was there something you wanted to know?”

Louis smiled and replied, “What’s your favorite memory of him?”

Her favorite memory.

Many images floated through her mind.

The first night they spent together in that barn, or when he cut her hair on the train. Every time he came over to watch her color. When they worked together to move a desk and she got a cut on her finger that he patched up. When he tried to tell her the truth about what he did but never outright said it.

Then, it dawned on her.

“While we were staying at the motor-in, these two guys came wanting to trade food for gas. We made a deal with them and they brought us to their farm, and there they had this broken swing,” Clem started. “Lee walked all over the place looking for things to fix it. When he did, he pushed me on it. It was before we knew what those people were like, and the farm looked like it was untouched by the walkers. I remember how green and beautiful it was there.” Clem sadly smiled. “It felt like the world wasn’t a shithole for those few minutes. It was just me, Lee and the swing.”

Louis didn’t say anything. He just squeezed her hand.

Clem laughed suddenly. Louis raised a brow, waiting for her elaborate.

“They had a cow in the barn. I forget her name, but I got to pet her, and then I found this...thing.” Clem shook her head.

“A thing?”

“A saltlick.”

“And a saltlick is a thing that...?”

“I don’t really know. I just know that it tasted gross.”

His eyes grew wide, astonished. “Did… did you just go around licking weird things laying around?”

“No,” Clem protested with a grin.

“Oh my god,” Louis laughed. “That’s adorable.”

“Shut up,” she elbowed him.

“What did Lee say?” she asked.

“He laughed at me.”

Together they chuckled, fingered laced together. Clem ran her thumb over a scar that kissed his knuckle, the smile stuck on her face. She shifted until her temple rested comfortably against his shoulder.

“You really loved him,” murmured Louis.

“I did. I still do.”

“Was he...” Louis pondered on his thoughts, carefully forming them into the sentence he wanted to express. “Did you consider him like a dad? Or, was he just ‘Lee?’“

That was something she hadn’t thought about in a long time. Maybe, at the time, when Lee was still alive, she considered him as just a caretaker. After all, she’d been so worried about finding her parents, her real father, that she didn’t even hesitate to leave him when she thought she finally had a chance at finding them.

Her naivety got him killed, and she had to live with that.

“He was somehow both,” she finally said. “He was Lee, but he also looked after me like any good dad would. He never had any kids of his own, and I... I hope that, in the end, he did consider me like a daughter.”

She felt his warm lips press against her temple. “Where ever he is, I know he’s proud of you.”

She leaned into his touch. “I hope so.”

The cards were forgotten as they sat there.

“I miss him.”

He brought their hands to his mouth where he pressed a kiss against the back of her hand. “I know,” he murmured.

She took a second to admire him up close. His brows furrowed in thought, his eyes, dark and unfocused. Her eyes counted over the dozens of tiny freckles scattered across his nose and fell down to his full lips.

She slipped her hand from his and used her finger to tilt his chin towards her. Their mouths met, quick and chaste. Again, and again, small, comforting kisses until Clem’s held him still with her hand on the back of his neck. Warmth spread over her cheeks and a tiny tremble wracked her bones. A groan built up in her throat.

When she pulled back, she glanced over his dilated pupils and flushed skin. He blinked slowly, and then a grin spread itself over his face, ear to ear. A chuckle bubbled in his throat as he buried his face into her shoulder.

“Seriously?” she sighed, unable to contain her own smile.

“Sorry,” he laughed.

God, how could he be so damn cute?

She thought about commenting on this but decided not to. Instead, when he sat back to face her, she moved in, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her ear against his chest. They both got comfortable, laying back and staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m happy that you trust me,” he beamed. “You know, to tell me about Lee. I know it’s not the easiest topic for you, but... you get this pretty look every time we talk about him. Well, about the good stuff, anyway.” He kissed her again. “It’s nice seeing you like this.”

“It feels good to talk about him again.”

“Wish I could’ve met him,” said Louis.

“Me, too,” Clem sighed. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as his hand lazily ran up and down her back. She listened to his heartbeat thud against her ear and enjoyed the comfort his company always brought. It was strange how he always seemed to put her at ease, how she relaxed in his embrace. She marveled in the feeling. After all, to repeat Louis’ own words, all they really had was this moment. She didn’t know if they’d ever get another moment like this to themselves.

And, as she thought about Lee, something occurred to her. She toyed with one of the buttons of his jacket as she asked, “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Your parents. What were they like?” she asked softly.

She felt his hand still.

“My parents and I...” he started slowly, “we didn’t get along.”

She cocked her head to look up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...” he shrugged, “we didn’t get along.”

“Okay...” That didn’t clear anything up. “Like, how? Is it because you wouldn’t eat your mother’s cantaloupe?” she tried to joke.

He didn’t laugh, nor did he smile.

He didn’t meet her eye.

“I was a ‘troubled youth,’“ he said. “Hence why I’m here.”

She... didn’t like the way he said that.

“Did you blow shit up, too? Like Mitch?” she tried joking again.

He shook his head. “No. Just got in trouble a lot.”

Clem chewed on her bottom lip, then said, “That doesn’t seem like any reason to send your child to a boarding school.”

“Oh, well, they didn’t send me here,” he clarified. “My aunt did.”

Clem’s brows knitted in confusion. “Your aunt?”

“Yeah. I lived with her before I came here. She traveled a lot for work and didn’t want to drag me across the country.”

“Why did you move in with your aunt?”

Louis picked at a loose string on her sleeve. “Like I said, I didn’t get along with my parents.”

Clem shifted around until she was propped up on her elbows and partially hovering over him. When he didn’t look at her, she gently tapped his chin. “Hey,” she murmured.

He finally glanced at her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” his nonchalant voice was unconvincing.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Clem-” he shook his head, taking a deep breath. “It’s fine.” The smile he forced wasn’t true. “It’s not you, I swear. It’s not a big deal.”

“Really? Because you’re acting weird all of a sudden.”

“I’m a weirdo. You said so yourself, remember?”

“No,” she frowned. “This is different.” She paused to mull over her words carefully. “If it hurts too much to talk about, you don’t have to tell me anything. Just know that I’m here for you.”

Uncertainty settled along his features. He started tapping the side of his boot against the bed frame.

“It’s not a fun story,” he warned her.

“I can handle it if you can.”

He sat up, bringing her with him, and readjusted his coat. Worry tugged at her heart when he scooted away from her.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Right, well,” Louis became twitchy, nervous, “it was just me and my parents, and they were pretty strict. Well, my dad was pretty strict.” He watched her carefully, gauging her reactions. “We were well off, I guess. Dad had a good job, mom stayed at home, and I went to school and did sports in the summer. It was pretty good, I guess.”

“So, then... why did you move in with your aunt if things were good?” she asked again. She didn’t mean to pry, but there was just something lingering in his eyes that had morbidly peaked her curiosity.

He didn’t respond right away. He avoided her eyes, seemingly more focused on picking at his cuticles. “My dad, he...” he mumbled slowly, “...he’d rough me up sometimes.”

Clem blinked up at him, slowly registering the words. “What?”

“Y’know, I’d knock something over or they’d get a call from the school, whatever, and he’d... “ his voice lowered to a whisper, “he’d come home and... show me that what I did was bad.”

Something awful twisted in her gut.

“Like... he’d yell at you?”

“...Yeah...” he hesitated. “...and then,” his eyes fluttered shut, “when he was really mad, he’d smack me around.”

“What-”

“It’s fine, though,” he quickly interrupted. “I mean, it was only that bad a couple times. And it’s not like I didn’t deserve it." He forced a laugh. “I did a lot of dumb shit as a kid.”

Her mouth fell agape as she stared at him. She could see panic starting to surface from his eyes.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he tried to assure her, practically slapping his hand on her knee. “Really, I barely remember any of it, anyway. Besides, it’s not like he can hit me anymore! Y’know, with the whole world going to shit and him probably being dead. So, it’s not like he’s gonna come barging in here with a belt or anything! It’s fine! Nothing to worry about.”

Before she could speak, he hopped over her and stumbled to his feet. He kept his back to her as he exclaimed, “You know what sounds super great right now? Water. I’m gonna go grab-”

“Louis-” she reached out and caught his sleeve.

“-a bottle, then we can go join-”

“Louis.” Her tone stopped him in his tracks, but he still refused to meet her eye. Her grip on his sleeve loosened as she scooted closer, sitting at the edge of his bed with her fingers laced with his. She felt him tremble violently. “Don’t leave,” she murmured.

He didn’t pull from her. Instead, his hand gripped hers firmly, though he still refused to look at her.

She searched deep within herself to find the right thing to say, something that would make him feel better, even though she had a feeling that nothing could ever make memories like those completely fade.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke tenderly. “You know that you didn’t deserve that, right?”

“...Yeah.”

Clem kissed his hand. “Louis, you’re amazing,” she mumbled against his skin. “More than amazing, and I’m sorry that your parents couldn’t see that. You don’t have to pretend that it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

She watched his trembling shoulders slump and his head fall.

“...Y-yeah.”

She stood from the bed and gently pulled him around to face her.

No tears had spilled over, but they remained glossy in his dark eyes. His chin quivered, lips pressed into a firm line. She brushed one of his dreads out of his face and pressed a delicate kiss to his jaw.

“You’re safe,” she whispered.

She felt the wetness drip down his cheeks.

Sneaking her arms around his neck, she held him close, letting him sob into her shoulder. He squeezed her, holding on for dear life. She felt him break apart in her embrace, small and vulnerable.

So, she held him, mumbled sweet things to him and rubbed his back until all those tears finally dried up. And, even then, she still held him.

“You’re safe,” she whispered once more.

#welp this is a thing i wrote #i'm sorry #twdg #twdg louis #twdg clementine #twdg clouis #twdg louisentine #twdg louistine #clouis #louisentine #louistine #i don't know how to end this #my angst writing is a work in progress #i write fluff better than i do angst #but i'm getting there #thanks for reading btw

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tiny-smallest · 5 years

Text

the language of flowers

Rating: T Characters: Sammy, Susie, Susie-Alice/Malice, Henry Warnings: dead people, but nothing out of the pale for what was seen in-game Description: On a wall in the studio, a poem is scrawled. There are lots of poems scrawled on the walls, and they all have a story-- pieces of a fractured mind, coming together for brief moments in flashes of memories stolen from him, in flashes of other memories he shouldn’t have to bear the burden of.

He’ll forget these things as soon as his poem is written, but for now...

Also on AO3!

I had a burst of poetic inspiration and decided I wanted to incorporate that poem into an actual one-shot, so enjoy this collection of memories. Yes, it’s part of an au, but that doesn’t have any bearing on the content here.

SUNFLOWERS, DAISIES

"Delivery for you, Miss Campbell!”

“Thanks, Wally, but I told you, Susie’s just fine,” she said with a smile, accepting the vase of flowers with a look that quickly turned curious. As Wally tipped his hat and left the room, she grabbed for the tag, face turning sour. “Ugh...”

“Mmm? Don’t tell me there’s a bug on it?” Sammy said, turning the rest of the way around in his chair to look. One hand went for the nearby fly swatter. He hoped it wasn’t a bee.

“No, no- it’s- just-” She sighed, setting the vase down. Sammy’s hand retreated from where it was groping for the fly swatter. “It’s probably a little rude of me, but I just- I did tell him I prefer sunflowers...”

“Sunflowers?” Sammy looked from the roses, the sight of which made his chest clench, to Susie. “Him?”

“An old flame. Few days ago he asked me out for coffee, talked about maybe getting back together.” She pursed her lips at the vase, folding her arms and looking down at it as if not quite sure what to make of it. “I broke up with him because- he’s nice enough, but he just doesn’t listen! I was hoping maybe he’d worked on that but... I mean I did tell him every Valentine’s Day we were together that I liked sunflowers and daisies best and he still got me roses and he’s still doing that.”

Sammy rested his chin against his hand. “Oh, he’s that kind of person who you talk to but nothing sticks.”

“Exactly- well, maybe not exactly, because it’s not even like he’s forgetful? He remembers things just fine, usually. It’s more like...” She gestured, seeking to pull the words she needed from the air. “When I broke up with him I asked him a number of questions about me. You know, my favorite flower, my favorite smell, how I like my coffee, favorite movie, favorite animal... little things like that? He only got a single one right!”

“So it’s more like he just didn’t care about you.”

“Yeah, that’s the impression I got.” She shook her head. “Well, if he thinks I’m going to settle for just plain ‘nice,’ he has another thing coming. Nice is a bare minimum requirement. You have to try harder than that!”

“And you deserve someone trying harder than that,” Sammy said quietly. When she turned to look at him, he blinked, face growing a bit warm. “Anyone does. I don’t pretend to know much about this love thing, but I’m pretty sure caring about one another’s favorite interests is just a given.”

“Exactly.” She went to move the vase, then stopped with a sigh. “Poor things; they didn’t ask to be sent by a no-try nice-guy. I’ll leave them until they wilt on their own. It’d be a shame to just chuck them.”

“Why not give them to Norman?” Sammy said suddenly, and Susie looked at him in confusion. “Norman’s husband loves roses,” he explained. “I heard him mention that once, around Valentine’s. Take off the tag and maybe charge him a bit of money if his pride demands it, and the roses go to someone who actually likes them, they’ll be out of your hands, and you won’t have to be the one trying to carefully transport them home. Or leaving them in my office. Easy.”

“Gooooood idea.” She smiled, picking the vase up. “Thanks, Sammy!”

“Of course,” he answered, turning back around in his desk as he returned to his music. Thump thump thump, went his heart.

“It was nothing.”

BABY’S BREATH

Sammy shifted his grip on the precious package, hesitating outside the theater. One hand reached for the doorknob, gripped it tightly, then let go.

God damn it. Pull yourself together, Lawrence.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. He grabbed the knob again and turned it, entering the room.

It was dark, as he’d left it, Susie sitting with a rigid back in a seat at the very front. Little sniffles filled the room and Sammy felt his stomach clench a little even though he knew they were joyful tears.

Calm down. He was about to make her cry more, anyway, so there was no point in letting himself get all flustered by the sounds of her stifled weeping. He cleared his throat and walked over, pivoting on his heel once he reached her to stand in front of her. She looked up at him with a wide, teary smile that turned into a look of confusion when she spied what lay in his arms.

He held it out to her.

“Congratulations.” He smirked. “Told you that you’d knock it out of the park.”

“Oh- Sammy!” She accepted the bouquet from him with a watery laugh. “Oh Sammy, you shouldn’t have!”

“Of course I should have. You did amazingly. Incredibly.” He folded his hands behind his back, willing himself not to duck his head. “Everyone’s going to love Alice, and you’re the one who brought her to life.”

“You even got me my favorites,” she laughed, rubbing a fist into one eye as she glanced down again at the sunflowers and daises so carefully arranged in their paper wrapping.

“Of course. Presents shouldn’t be half-assed! You said those were your favorites.”

“I did.” She smiled at him, the bubbly surprise melting into something softer, sweeter. “... You know, you really are sweeter than sugar underneath all that grouchiness.”

His face flushed hot and all thoughts whited out as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

His head filled with cotton, staring at her as she leaned back, able to count most of the teardrops on her long lashes, the lashes that framed those eyes, those eyes-!

She smiled at him again.

“Now let’s go find water for them.”

He nodded, dumbly, stumbling along with her in a daze as she took his hand and pulled him from the room.

So this is what it’s like to float on cloud nine, he thought. I hope I never come down.

HEAVENLY VOICE

The pipes sang, the wood creaked, the ink dripped. Try as he might, the wood protested hideously wherever he stepped. This was a particularly bad area, apparently.

Music.

He halted, tilting his head for a moment before looking up.

Humming floated around the room like dust motes in sunlight, interrupting the steady stream of tinkling song that he always heard calling to him in the Ink.

It called to him. Not the same way the Ink did, but it did. It called, tugged, and the empty hole in his heart responded. A deep, aching longing, a need, filled the core of his being right to the brim.

Suddenly his chest seized and he gasped, fingers clenching against the inky shell, beneath which was his heart.

No. No, this was not the only world he’d ever known. There was once something else, something else besides just a body that didn’t hurt, didn’t look wrong- there was once light and- and- joy! Safety! And-

Oh no, no no-! As soon as the images burst before his mind they were fading, and-

No, he had to do something to stop it! He had to! He couldn’t forget again-!

The humming grew in pitch and his head ached, the ache suddenly spiking into sheer agony. The world went sideways for a moment as he pitched into a wall, staggering into it.

The agony lifted, leaving him breathing heavily, leaning into the wall.

Ah... what was he so upset about again? He blinked.

Humming.

That voice. Wasn’t he thinking about that a moment ago? He struggled to recall. Yes, he was, wasn’t he? What was he thinking about? He tugged absently on his hair, wincing as a small chunk of it gave easily under his hand. He let the inky hair fall to the ground. Something about the humming...

The creature- the angel! It was an angel, singing. Did the Ink tell him that? He wasn’t sure, but the word ‘angel’ remained burned into his mind in lines of fire and longing.

He needed to go find her.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” he said aloud in a whisper, casting an apologetic glance at the whispering, singing pipes that would surely lead him back to his god if he followed their song. It always did, after all, even if in a roundabout way. “But I need to seek this out first...”

YOU BRING DEATH

The voice was closer now. He was closer!

Tired though he was, the sound put a pep in his step. That beautiful voice, that sound like rang like church bells...

He was so close now. Almost there.

The hallway ended in a door and he tugged it open, noting the pentagram on the wall directly next to where the door opened. The mark of his Lord, by which all things in the Well could return.

As grateful as he was for that gift, he hoped he’d never have to use it. But that shouldn’t be a problem.

The humming stopped for a few moments and his heart dropped, only soothed when it began again. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of indulgence, before shaking it off and stepping forward again, one hand adjusting the old rope that kept the banjo on his back secured.

He was going to find the angel, and... something was going to happen. His heart swelled. Something great was going to happen.

He hopped down the steps and across the room, and up the ones that led to a pair of metal doors that were open. A quick glance upwards made him pause and squint.

SHE’S QUITE A GAL!

Yes, she is.

As soon as he thought it, it was gone. A quiet noise left him, and he looked down and back to the doors, slipping through.

The hallway beyond wasn’t very long and had a couple kinks in it, but at the end, a light from above illuminated a long-haired woman, her back to him, humming.

His heart was pounding now. And... his face ached?

Oh. Because he was smiling.

She moved about, working on something, clearly. He stepped forward. “H-hello! I was wondering if- if I could- maybe- play for you...?”

She turned around and, at the same time, he caught sight of what else was in the room

Corpses.

Piles... and piles... of...

The world came to a halt, discordant screeching in the back of his head, a broken halo bobbing as she stepped forward.

There were no more thoughts.

He ran.

SUNFLOWERS, DAISIES BABY’S BREATH HEAVENLY VOICE YOU BRING DEATH

Calloused fingers traced the letters, Henry’s face tugging down in a frown.

He was used to seeing less than uplifting stuff written on the walls. You really didn’t get much more down than “WHO’S LAUGHING NOW” on the wall of a room where the corpse of your dead child lay on display.

Runner ups included such lovely phrases like “I DON’T WANT TO WORK HERE ANYMORE” along with a handprint that dragged down the wall and “THE SHEEP WILL COME TO SLAUGHTER”. Another honorable mention to “DOWN HERE, WE’RE ALL SINNERS.”

Oh, and “I STILL REMEMBER MY NAME.” Two smeared handprints. God. Just remembering that made him sick all over again. He found that in one of the Lost Ones’ safehouse and threw up, again.

He was getting used to repeatedly feeling sick.

But what he wasn’t used to were poems. He’d seen a few, scattered around--and he’d never forget the first one, located in Sammy’s sanctuary.

And, speaking of which, he had a good idea who wrote this one. Sammy did so love his poems. “A song is poetry with music,” he once said, and Henry never forgot that. Anytime he saw a poem, he remembered.

As he was remembering now.

Sammy wrote this. He was almost certain. But what was in his head when he wrote it?

Well... he’d say that only a god would know that, but Henry had long been sure there probably wasn’t one.

He reached for a nearby bucket of ink and a brush, and began to draw. After a few minutes he stopped, put the things down, and stared at it for a few minutes as if standing at a grave before walking away.

A drawing of single flower now lay beneath the poem.

#bendy and the ink machine #sammy lawrence #susie campbell #henry stein #batim henry #batim sammy #batim susie #batim susie campbell #batim sammy lawrence #my writing #strike up the band au

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