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#plays her like a darn fiddle and is just... having a Grand Old Time with it too.
quirofiliac · 3 years
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sheepishlysweet said: ✔
@sheepishlysweet​ / quick & easy plotting guide / accepting.
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#sheepishlysweet#Meg My Love.#ur patience with AND for me sees no rivals and im so thankful bc it took me forever to shovel this out but-----#/but/#we have talked so in-depth about maggie and kira's dynamic and i am So In Love with it bc it's so... so fucked. KSFJKMD just...#just so genuinely fucked because of how kira is and how he sees maggie as sheer cannon fodder for his manipulation tactics. literally just#plays her like a darn fiddle and is just... having a Grand Old Time with it too.#as i was working on this i thought of the potential of kira forcing maggie to partake in his kills but like... on a lesser level he'd do#with chiko. :thinking: im imagining it more as a thing of... kira never overtly KILLS in front of her nor does he give it away that he kills#but rather he essentially hints that he does bad things and can get away with it? that he's capable of hurting her and feels zero remorse#about even thinking of it. i gotta harken back to the future plot of kira going absolutely apeshit on maggie and knocking shit over just to#see how she'd react and if she'd try and defend herself. and the image of him -- as soon as he's close to her -- suddenly grabbing her hands#Gently. he's gentle with her and just... quietly chastises her.#and eventually pulls fv into it (-': and scarlet too depending on how they coincide down the line.#basically i envision them starting off as ''friends'' bc kira pulls off the kind but cold act really well but#the more pronounced his desire to kill her grows the bigger the wedge he tries to drive between her and fv & scarlet. and when she thinks#about calling for help he coos and tells her that wouldn't be a good idea. essentially threatening her ''family'.#threatening her to stay quiet.#so. uh. friends to uh. whatever the FUCK that is. (^:#(also teacher + student bc i could imagine him teaching her how to cook some tingz and maybe even teaching her how to play the violin.#all hands-on of course heheh)#* 💥 返事:answered.#* 💥 摘発:out of character.
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riddlesandqueries · 4 years
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A brief roleplay scenario with @darcimasonusb​ and  @enterthecocoon​ concerning conspiracy, crime, and damsels in distress.
Though many criticized Drury’s taste when it comes to fashion, he thought it was a smart Idea to wait in casual clothes  that had reminiscent qualities to his Moth suit, waiting in an orange jacket, purple pullover, and green trousers, all toned down to more moderate levels as too bright colours would attract unwanted attention swirling around him. People really were just like Moths.
Someone who wasn’t looking for Killer Moth wouldn’t recognize him, so only his fellow rogue Edward Nygma, A.K.A. the Riddler, would be aware of his true self- and hopefully be persuaded to let him be part of whatever his grand plan is. Asking around in the darker parts of this city, Drury wasn’t even able to pick up on any rumors of what he may be planning - but there is always a calm before the storm and no doubt the only reason the Riddler would be silent for so long was because he was busy with preparations - whatever he may be preparing. He took a final sip of the milkshake he bought at the Hill street cafe, placed the empty glass on the table and stood up. His potential collaborator should be here any moment. He looked around: no sign of him yet.
Hoping that Mr. Nygma hadn’t forgotten about their meeting - or even worse, purposefully stood him up, he took out a Star Wars comic that he recently bought out of his jacket to diminish the waiting time while reading it. Perhaps following Jedi Knight Ki-Adi Mundi on his journey through the desert planet of Tatooine would bring him to less self-deprecating thoughts.
Conversely, dressing down for Edward was simply a matter of adjusting style. There was shifting colour to match the season, more deviance from the standard pallet, but there was never much mistaking, for those who knew what to look for, who he was.
Precisely on time, Edward closed his pocket watch as he strolled in, and pocketed it as he looked about. Ah, there. No mistaking the brand: obtaining a quick coffee to go, Edward meandered over to Drury. “Mr Walker?”
“Ah!” Drury recognized him, closing his comic book to put it back in his jacket and politely holding out his hand. “Mr. Nygma!”
Taken, shaken. “What were you reading?”
After shaking Edward’s, Drury led his hand back to the pocket and pulled the comic back out, the cover displaying a wise-looking old man with a white beard weilding a magenta-bladed Lightsaber, posing in front of animals and bandaged characters that Edward may have recognized as Banthas and Tusken Raiders respectively. Above the characters, the title of the comic was presented: Star Wars: Outlander The Exile of Sharad Hett - Issue 5.  "Oh, it’s just a little comic I read to pass the time. It just came out today, so I picked it up on the way here.“
"Oooo, new one. I’ll have to catch the new issue on the way back, I’ve been way behind.” he chuckled, wiggling his coffee. “No spoilers, hm?”
“Oh, you’re reading it, too?”, Drury asked. “I mean, if you’ve been behind, I could borrow you some of my comics. The story is getting a lot more interesting than the first arc and ties better into the new Movie.”
“Reading, no. Have yet to begin, yes.” he admitted. “Now…what’s all this about, Drury?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Drury responded. “You’re planning something big, aren’t you? I’d like to be part of it.”
Edward paused for a beat, brows raised, and then sipped his coffee with a smirk. “How’d you guess.”
Drury smirked back. He thought this a sign of admittance. “Your silence spoke more than a thousand words. You’ve been too quiet lately. And whenever I think "I sure wonder what the Riddler’s up to, I’ve not heard from him in a while”, the next day’s papers report on you trapping Commissioner Gordon in a virtual reality game. Or taking over a toy company. What’s it gonna be this time? I’d love to get involved!“
Edward’s smirk never moved, even at the mention of The Incident. Note to self, destroy newspaper archive. "You would, huh? I have to say, I don’t usually take on any accomplices.” he frowned, casually peering into his coffee, as if it had some counsel for him on the subject. “I confess, I’m a bit of a lone wolf about my affairs, and I think this one might be somewhat out of your wheelhouse, Walker.”
“C-come on, I’m sure I can be of help somehow!”, Drury interjected. “I can show you how useful I can be! We could look around if we see the Cops chasing some crook, I could make sure they don’t get them!”
“You think so?”
“I know so! Saving crooks from the cops is my modus operandi!”
How is that meant to match up with mine, I wonder. “Perhaps I need a demonstration.” offered Edward, having another sip. “To see what would actually be at play.”
Drury placed down his milkshake. “Should we go out and look for some criminal running for the cops? Shouldn’t be too hard to find in this city.”
“Sure~” Why not? It’d give him time to think of a polite blow-off.
“Excellent!” Drury got up and opened the door of his car. “After you!”
“Thank you~” he smiled, sliding in. This should make for a fun afternoon, looking about for mischief with a D-lister. But bothering the cops? Might want to start a little smaller. “I have an idea, Walker.”
An ecstatic “Oh? Yes?”, came out of a grinning Drury, eager to impress another rogue.
“Instead of hunting out those dunderheaded police, why don’t we raise the stakes a bit?” he offered slyly, smiling in clear conspiracy. “And pursue a criminal instead. Someone bright enough to think like us? That’s a challenge.”
“Oh…of course! Not quite my style, but I think I should be able to do it!”
“Not a sincere catch, mind you.” he chuckled kindly. “Just enough to shake up some street-level mugger, have a little fun.”
Drury placed his hands on the steering wheel and started up the engine. As if Killer Moth couldn’t handle a common crook. “Consider it done!”
Darci had a straightforward, however tame, day ahead of her. Take in the surroundings. Learn the area. Make note of any signs or signals that may cross her path. Street Smarts.
For this occasion, she wore a maroon coat over a black and white patterned pencil dress. Something autumn to get used to the times. The idea was to just walk around town and don’t look suspicious. And surprisingly enough, she was succeeding! Until she left the bustling crowded streets, that is.
Meanwhile, for the small-time crook known as Clyde, this had been a day of realisation. He was starting to notice how poorly thought-out his tactic of driving around the emptier streets of the city and robbing whoever walked around alone was - no one with a decent amount of money ever came to this part of the city, and the places they did come to were too crowded to pull anything.
But as if fortuna herself had heard him, he spotted a dainty, easily-overpowered young lady walk around the streets. Putting his mask on, he parked in front of her and got out of his vehicle. “Hello, lady.”, he said. “That’s a nice purse.”
Darci took a second to recognize the situation. She knew exactly what was gonna happen. Oh and what fun it would be. “Hello, person.” she replied. “That’s a nice mask.”
“Why, thanks.” he said dryly, taking out his gun. “I bet the purse’s contents are nice, as well. Show me.”
“Oh nooo.” she said in a rather monotone voice. “Whatever shall I do?” Darci walked up to him, with a funny sort of smile. She looked straight down the center pin of his revolver. “You know, you also have a nice gun!” she laughed. One hand crept onto the barrel like a spider while the other tucked her clutch behind her back. “It’s a darned shame isn’t it?” She had a solid grip.
Clyde became somewhat unsettled at the blonde’s reaction. Was she too foolish to realise the situation? Or perhaps, it was he who didn’t know what he was dealing with.
————
Meanwhile, looking for crime through a pair of binoculars on top of a building, Drury Walker’s sight fell upon the robber and his uncooperative victim. “Hey, Edward.”, he said, handing him the binoculars. “Isn’t that girl there being robbed?”
The drive to a random building and the consequent climb up the fire escape was daring enough, but now, Edward wondered, as they scanned the area in broad daylight, was this the very picture of the Dark Knight’s moonlighting? Or, in this case, is it daylighting..?
Reverie interrupted, Edward calmly peered down to the scene in question.“Looks like it, Walker. What’s the plan?”
“We track the crook, incapacitate him and get the poor lady’s belongings back. Can you make out his license plate?”
“Not from here, but you know, we could probably catch up. Looks to me like they’re arguing.”
“That gives us more time! To the Mothmobile!” he exclaimed, despite knowing full well that the car they travelled with was not said Mothmobile. Edward followed, swift on Drury’s heels.
—–
Clyde just stared at the lady’s confused reaction. Was this some sort of self-defense strategy? “Hands off!” he shouted, trying to rip the gun from her grasp.
Darci was more than calm with an iron grip. “What’s the matter? Are you…” she lifted the gun out of his hands and held it like a cigarette. “Nervous?” Her deviance had shined through. Darci taunted him by fiddling with the gun. “Getting a closer look at this really makes me appreciate the craftsmanship… I think I’ll be keeping it!”
Then, in a rush she got a brilliant idea! It wasn’t everyday she could get to do this you know.
“Oh and! Let’s not forget all the trouble you put me through!” she dramatized the past minute “I’ll accept your jacket as payment!” She pointed the gun at Clyde, smiling as if to say ‘pleasure doing business with you!’.
Tapped, Clyde slowly pushed the sleeves off of his shoulders. “Didn’t know you were another crook…”
“Yeah, well, when you assume it makes an ass outta you! But you already did that when you pulled up here, didn’t'cha?” Darci held her aim steady, watching his move.
He carefully handed her his jacket, then raised his arms up.
“Good! Good! Now get outta here ya rascal!” she laughed, lowering the revolver. A job well done :). Darci folded the jacket neatly over her arm.
Carefully, the robber stepped back to his car, his hands kept up.
“Halt! I have seen everything!”  came a voice from the side, and as they followed its sound their eyes met a tall, muscular man in a full, overly bright Moth costume. Clyde wasn’t sure what to make of this. A new addition to the bat family? The red eyes of the bugman laid onto the Robber. “Worry not, fair citizen, for today, the Killer Moth seeks to bring justice. And you…” He now looked upon Darci. “Taking some poor, innocent soul at gunpoint and stealing his jacket…you should be ashamed of yourself!”
“Ack!” Darci jumped up in surprise and pointed the revolver at Killer Moth. Her hands were shaky. The tacky uniform. The overly enthusiastic voice. The oddly muscular body. It all set off alarms in her head. It’s obvious this is one of Schott’s toys.
“Damn you! You think you can just take me to em’ that easy? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so!”
Is this how Crooks usually react to being caught? Moth wondered. No wonder Batman is always in such a bad mood.
He returned by aiming his cocoon gun at her and having the other hand ready to start up the Wings on his back. “Resistance is futile! Drop your weapon.”
How long did he take to make this guy?
“Funny! I was just about to say the same thing!” she fired the weapon at Moth’s left wing and attempted to dodge behind Clyde’s car. Whatever his gimmick was, she didn’t want to see it in action.
Taken aback by the Gunshot, Moth tried to dodge by ungracefully leaping aside, landing on his arm and unwillingly shooting a blast of cocoon substance, revealing his gimmick. Having saved his wing in the process, he began to hover up in the air and surprise her from above.
“Oh Jesus fucking Christ!” she blurted out. The gunk from his gun looks like it immobilizes the target. Right.
“So that’s what you do! This bootleg action figure trick is getting old, actually.” she walked backwards and aimed again. “What is this? The third time he’s made someone like you? Jeez.”
1. 2. 3. Fire! She shot the cocoon blaster.
The bullet pulled the gun out of his hand, having it hit the street. Moth reached to his utility belt for a new weapon. Frightened by the shot, Clyde took away in his car. He didn’t care about these freaks killing one another, but he did not want to be involved anymore.
“Bootleg? I am the original! I never copy anyone!” Moth insisted, searching for a new weapon in his utility belt. Not that he was too worried: his suit was designed to tank a bullet or two.
Not wanting to hear his spiel, she tried to fire again. Click! “…” Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick!  She threw the revolver to the side. “…” There’s no way you’re winning this fight, Darci.
“Well, it’s been a fun time playing with you, but I really gotta go!” she secured her other items in her arm and skid underneath Moth to find ample means of escape.
“Oh, you’re not getting away that easily, you simple crook!”, he said, flying up behind her, grabbing her by the waist and flying upwards, though she did struggle a lot more than he had expected her to. Furthermore, she felt somewhat strange for a human being, much colder and harder. “What are those? Abs of steel?” Steel?
This scene, as it had played out before him, had been terribly amusing for Edward in the same fashion as a slapstick comedy, but that woman was just too familiar, and steel, of all the words, clicked it all together.
Strolling out of the alley, Edward waved at the pair. “Darci, hi! Is that you?”
Moth sat up and readjusted his helmet. “Edward, you’re here already? I’ve been trying to catch this crook, like you ordered!”
“You mean the crook who was robbing her and got away?”
“Edward!!! Hello!! :D!!” Darci lit up to see her good friend, and hastily wormed her way out of Moth’s arms with ease. That was simpler than I expectedbut oH MY GOD FRIENDFRIENDFRIEND!!! She leapt towards him.
Moth was visibly confused. Did he mess up again? “But…no, wait - she was the robber! I saw her hold the guy at gunpoint and took his jacket!”
Edward opened his arms and embraced Darci with an audible grunt at the impact, settling in with a suppressed cough. “Nice to see you again, sunshine. Drury, this is my friend Darci, she’s no robber. You yourself saw her being held up when we got off the roof: don’t you think it’s sensible to hold someone up when you get the upper hand on them?”
“I didn’t make out who was holding whom up, but..uh…” He took off his helmet and put his face in his hand in shame. “I messed up again, didn’t I? Darci, I think your name was, I’m really sorry for all the trouble I caused you!”
Darci turned to look at Drury. She took a minute to analyze his laugh lines and other distinguishable facial features. He’d be a very clean cut man if he didn’t have a bad case of helmet hair. “No, no you’re alright. You were just trying to do your job…and, hey, sorry about the whole 'bootleg’ thing. I thought you were someone else.”
His facial expression turned just a little less shameful, he reached out his hand. “It’s fine. Wanna start over? My name’s Drury, Drury Walker.”
She slowly let go of Ed and walked in to shake Drury’s hand. “…Darci Mason.”
“Heh, like the Doll?” he asked, then realised this may offend her. “Sorry, you must get that all the time. It’s just that my daughter loves collecting these.”
She gave a well-meaning smile, but her face crinkled into a worried expression. “Yeah, like that. It’s alright.” Darci let go of his hand. Change the subject to something else. Anything else.
“I hope you’re not hurt or anything…have you seen which direction my Cocoon Gun flew in?”
“I’ve seen worse days. Mm, it went…” retrieving 102899.MP4 After a brief pause:“That way.” she pointed southwest from where Drury was facing.
“Are you all right?” asked Edward, checking her over. “That mugger didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“I’m fine!” she laughed. “I even got some loot out of it! I think it’s a Nautica Jacket…”
“Ah, there it is!”, Drury said after finding the gun. “Thank you, Miss Mason, you’ve got a pretty good eye!”
Edward laughed softly, quite amused. “Nice score. Walker and I were on a hunt for criminals, just to see how they operate. He spotted you while you were getting mugged, so he came in to try and stop it.”
“So that’s why!” She snapped her fingers. “That sounds exciting!”
“It’s been fun so far: didn’t think we’d actually run into anyone interesting, so this is a real treat for me.” he nodded proudly. “Walker’s not aiming to hurt you, I promise…At least, as far as I know.”
“I’m not! I promise!”, Drury threw in defensively.
“There, see? Silly mistake~. We rogues can be such goofs.”
"Hmm.” Darci circled around Drury a couple times. Putting her hand to her chin and audibly saying “mmhm” more than a few times with a look of playful suspicion. After a sustained pause… “I’ll give him the Charles Atlas Seal of Approval!” she clapped!
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I’ll Be Home For Christmas
Prompt 1: Mistletoe
Damien/District Attorney (Reader?) (Mostly in the past)
Notes: Actually been sitting on this idea for a while but when @jim-news put up the prompt list for the Ego Christmas thing, I figured it was a good time to write it. It was written in one night and kind of quickly edited as to not miss the first prompt date so please excuse some minor mistakes. Other then that please enjoy.
P.s. Looks better outside of my blog (with italics and what not) for some reason, trying to fix. You can also read it here now for full effect: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12890124
     The grand ballroom was a shell of its former self. The windows had been boarded up and a faint layer of dust covered everything. The beautiful architecture, that dated back to the 1900’s, was now starting to show wear and decay. The doors were locked with signs posted everywhere about how the building was condemned. But Dark didn’t need permission nor a door to enter anywhere he wanted to be. He simply appeared inside the giant room, cane in clutched in his hand. He didn’t usually pull out his cane but he felt it was something he would want for this occasion. He wasn’t sure why he came here exactly, just a sudden need filled him and he couldn’t stop himself. In his mind's eye, he could still picture the ballroom before it started to fall apart when it was taken care of like it should have been. Dark walked to the middle of the ballroom. He remembered at Christmas time they used to put a big Christmas tree here, and decorate it with all sorts of beautiful glowing lights and ornaments.
             Dark reached up a hand, imagining touching one of the forever green bows.
             “If you keep fiddling with it, it’s going to fall off.”
             Damien looks up as you approach. He places the glass orb he had been fiddling with on the tree again, trying to seem like he wasn’t guilty of tampering with it. The grand tree looks beautiful as does the mayor standing next to it. “How long have you been here old friend?”
             “Long enough to know that you should stop fiddling with the tree and be getting ready to greet your guests,” you say with a shake of your head.
             “I just want everything to be perfect,” Damien argues, “this is my first Christmas as mayor and I want everything to go right.”
             You smile as you lay your hands-on Damien’s shoulders. “Everything is perfect Damien!” you say, “The tree is perfect, the decorations are perfect, and you are perfect as usual.”
             Damien smiles but rolls his eyes. “I am hardly perfect!”
             “Yeah, you’re right,” you chuckle, “and I should know I’ve seen you without your morning coffee.” He shoots you a little glare as your hands slide down to his arms, giving him a comforting squeeze. “Stop worrying, everything will be fine. Everything looks great and I’m here to help so we’ve got this handled. You just be your handsome charming mayor self, and I will handle the rest okay?”
             Damien’s smile softens as he looks at you. “Thank you, old friend.”
             Suddenly there is a loud sound from the back of the room making you both jump. It sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. Damien turns to go but you quickly grab his arm, pulling him back a bit. “Nope, you go and be charming mayor guy. I have got whatever crisis handled!” As you move past him, you hear Damien sigh.
             “What would I do without you?”
             You just smile and shoot him a quick salute. “I got your back chief.”
             Dark walked about the room, his feet kicking up the layer of dust. Most of the furniture had been removed from the building when they condemned the place, anything of value being quickly either taken by auction or by looters. Still, Dark found that not everything had been taken, the bar with it’s cracked mirror and fading finish still had a chair or two. He sat down on one, not caring about the dust or the cobwebs he encountered. In all honesty, they helped fit his current mood. He looked out at the room, imagining it filled with people dressed up to the nines. It would have been crowded for the Christmas gala.
             You sit at the bar and sip your drink as you watch Damien do his thing. He really is impressive, how he can talk to everyone like they are his friend and yet have them respect him as mayor. It’s like he casts a spell over them. Well if that’s true, you mused, then you have been under his spell for many years now and don’t think you ever will be freed (not that you would want to be really). Suddenly you see him look up and spot you watching. He smiles, and you feel a warm thing grow in your chest. He makes his way over to you and takes a seat beside you. “The place really is quite packed tonight,” he muses after he orders his drink.
             “Yeah, and it’s all thanks to that handsome charming mayor guy,” you chuckle.
             “Well, he wouldn’t have had any of the luck he’s had thus far if it wasn’t for his wonderful friend the city’s best district attorney.”
             “Yep, good thing they have each other because frankly they would be lost if they didn’t.”
             “I think that is a good thing to drink too,” Damien says raising his glass. “To our partnership and our friendship, two things I promise to always treasure.”
             You smile fondly as your glasses clink together. Dear gods, what did you ever do to deserve this man? Whatever it is you want to know so that you can keep doing it forever and ever. Suddenly you hear the band begin to play another song and you realize that it’s ‘I’ll be home for Christmas’. “Oh, I love this song!”
             “Then will you do me the honor of a dance?”
             “What?” You look at Damien who is suddenly holding out his hand to you. Now, you want to protest, saying you don’t dance (at least not like anything that doesn’t resemble a dead fish) but his eyes…you can’t say no to those eyes. So, you sigh, down your drink in one hail Mary gulp and take his hand. “Okay let’s do this.” You feel your heart begin to pound as you are lead out onto the dance floor. You can feel all eyes on you and you wonder if there is a good rock you can hide under when this is over.
             “Don’t worry,” you hear Damien say as he squeezes your hand. “I won’t let you down.”
             You feel comforted although your heart is still racing. It’s mostly because now you find yourself considering Damien’s eyes and as he leads you gracefully around the dance floor you realize that you could stay in this moment forever. Just dancing with Damien, considering his eyes, as the soft slow music plays….
             Christmas Eve will find me…Where love light gleams…I’ll be home for Christmas…if only in my dreams…
             Dark could hear the echo of fading music ringing in his ears. It was a song he had long forgotten, it’s notes twisted in his heart. Now he was standing in the back of the room, underneath one of the arches, leaning against the wall as he surveyed the cold dark room. It was like death in that room now, death where there once was life. This place was like a shell now, empty and devoid of all that had once made it good in Dark’s eyes. It was just like Dark himself. Dark glanced up, suddenly having a flash of thought that something would be there, a certain thing…
             “There you are!” You finally find Damien standing in one of the archways, leaning against the wall. Although he still looks handsome as always, he also looks tired. You come up and stand beside him, watching as the last of the guests get their last celebrations in before heading out. The night really has been perfect. “Tired?” you ask.
             “A little,” Damien confesses, smiling. “You?”
             “I do think that the adrenaline is starting to wear off,” you say, giving your arms a bit of a stretch. “I’ll probably go home and fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.”
             “Sounds like a great plan to me.”
             For a moment the both of you stand in silence, listening to the music. “You should call her,” you say suddenly. “Your sister I mean.” Damien looks at you curiously and you quickly begin again. “I mean, I don’t mean to pry but she is your only remaining family and I know how much you miss her, and I’m sure that given that it’s Christmas, she probably would want to hear from you- “
             “It’s alright old friend,” Damien says, laying a hand on your shoulder and calming your nervous chatter. His smile is gentle but sad. “I know you are trying to help me, but the truth is that while she is my only family, my sister cut ties with me years ago, even before the great calamity that broke up my friendship. Every time I’ve tried to reach out in the past, she has rejected me, and I’m afraid even Christmas won’t heal the wounds she feels I have caused.”
             “Well that’s just silly, you are her twin brother!”
             “Yes, be that as it may, I’m afraid even being a twin doesn’t always fix things.” Damien sighs sadly. “Sometimes it makes them worse.”
             You feel a little bit bad for bringing it up. “I’m sorry.”
             “No harm done, old friend,” Damien says, “while I may not have my sister, I still have many other people I can call my family, including you.”
             You feel a warm feeling creeping into your face as you find yourself looking up. Then you see it. “Crap, I think we’ve been caught.”
             Damien looks up and spots it as well. He chuckles. “I guess we have been.”
             “And who thought it funny to hang up mistletoe huh?” You quickly look around to see if anyone else has noticed. “Maybe we can get away without anyone knowing!”
             “That would be dishonest,” Damien says, a little bit of teasing in his voice. “And it wouldn’t be good if the district attorney was found being dishonest now would it?”
             You shoot him a glare. “Darn you and you’re always being right.” But as you are glaring at him you find yourself considering his eyes again. His eyes are dark, warm and deep, and you find yourself being pulled in. Suddenly you realize how warm it is in the room, or is that just you? Are you about to do this? You’re not fighting it as you get closer, feeling one of Damien’s hands' cup your face as you both close your eyes and…
             “Dark?”
             Dark’s eyes snapped open, his one hand floating in mid-air as if cradling something. He turned and found Warfstache standing there. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere man! I wanted to tell you my latest ideas for the staff Christmas party.” Warf tilted his head curiously. “What are you doing in this dusty place anyways?”
             Dark looked at Warfstache a moment and then looked at the space in front of him. It was empty, kind of like his heart. “Nothing Will,” Dark said, as he walked away from the memory of what was and could never be again. “I was just chasing ghosts.”
             I’ll be home for Christmas…If only in my dreams…
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magical-awesome-kid · 7 years
Text
Allergic Interaction
Inspired by @edorazzi‘s BEAUTIFUL little OCs Amun and Carter and all of their antics, Miraculous’ titular character Chat Noir AKA Adrien and his affliction with feathers, and my recent jackpot of allergies. Enjoy!
Also found on AO3.
           Amun would say his luck with the accursed food was dismal at best.
           Hazelnuts, as he learned since his revival, were not, in fact, cursed but some sort of chemical thing, as Angelo put it, caused him to have a reaction in his immune system. Since his internal organs had recently been re-growing, that meant that former hives evolved into far worse reactions when exposed to the fatal nut.
           His luck was dismal because, even after learning of this and learning enough English reading to avoid it, they were in France, and, therefore, French was written everywhere. Amun hadn’t even thought to ask someone to read it to him - he knew the language of French but not how to read it - when he’d eaten that chocolate bar offered to him by one of the clerks at the museum.
           If not for Angelo’s quick grab for the Epinephrine pen upon seeing Amun go red and begin to wobble from dizziness, this might have been his second death.
           As it was, Amun was now sitting in a Parisian hospital an hour after arrival. They’d managed to easily stabilize him and get him mostly back to normal. “Mostly” because he had weird heart palpitations and only half the number of lungs he should have. Professor Carter and Angelo had escorted the doctor out about twenty minutes back to try to explain it away with various “disorders” that he had causing such things, but Amun would put his gold on the language barrier holding them up.
           He sighed, still bored as he played with the bed sheets and cords sticking to his chest and registering his heart rate. The room he was in was nice, somewhere situated in the ER but close to the allergy wing. It had two beds, one of which Amun was stuck in for another two hours to make sure he didn’t slip back into anaphylactic shock. Honestly, the only thing he wanted to slip into was his sarcophagus to sleep another couple thousand years.
           When the door opened, Amun looked up hoping to see a familiar Carter face, but instead a nurse and a boy with blonde hair in a wheel chair came in. The blonde, who was handsome by most standards, was likely Amun’s age (minus the whole, you know, death and revival thing), and he gave off an edge of magic (the undead teen could always sense background magic - it was an apparent thing going from school, surrounded by the stuff, and home, where it was just the leftover specks from his earlier presence).
           The most noticeable thing, though, was that his skin was covered in hives and welts.
           The boy was put into the opposing bed and hooked up to an IV as a second nurse closed the divider shade. Amun could lightly see through as they administered medication and seemed to help him change into the hospital gowns. They were all speaking French quickly - mostly the adults asking medical questions and the teen answering, before the elders left with a word that a doctor would be by soon and, if something was wrong, hit the red button.
           Then, silence.
           Amun fiddled with his sheets once more. Should he say something? Was that appropriate? Gosh darn it, he was just getting used to AMERICAN social norms let alone French ones…
           “Uh, hello?” A soft yet rough voice called from the curtain as Amun looked over. “Uh, kid on the other side? You don’t happen to have the TV remote, do you?”
           Amun blinked before processing the words. “There’s… a TV in here?” He returned in French.
           There was some shuffling before the curtain pulled back. A tired blonde - now with IV and scrubs as well as being COVERED in some sort of cream - smiled back. “Yeah, it’s right there.” He pointed to a dark corner Amun had previously not paid enough attention to. Sure enough, a small flat screen lay there.
           “Ah… Oh Ra that would have made the first hour so much more bearable.” He bemoaned.
           The kid chuckled. “I know the feeling. I’ve been in this wing enough times to know the drill. Allergies?”
           “Yes, to the accursed hazelnut.” Amun returned as he sought out the remote. He spotted it on a table on the opposite side of his bed to the other teen. “What about you?”
           “Feathers. Or, well, feathers by pigeon barrage.” The boy made a face as he was offered the electric controller. “Thanks. Got any preferences? Or do you want me to mute it?”
           “Honestly, I’ll watch anything. And, please, do leave the noise on.” Amun smiled as the boy flipped on a cartoon show. “I am Amun, by the way, Amun Carter.” He offered a hand with his name. As part of Monster High’s “interesting” offerings, they’d established a legal personhood for the undead boy when he’d enrolled, including things like birth certificate and passport. Amun’s full name was used as his first while “Carter” had been chosen for his last.
           The boy turned back before offering a hand himself. “Adrien Agreste. You’re not from around here, are you?”
           Amun chuckled as he settled back. The cartoon was one he and Angelo had watched before - a “Ben Tenyson” alien show - though this was an old episode. “Yes, I am from… ah, well, Egypt and America. How could you tell?”
           “You have a really unique accent.” Adrien returned. “Egypt and America, huh? That’s got to be one unique story.”
           “Oh, like you wouldn’t believe…” Amun trailed off.
           Now it was Adrien’s turn to chuckle. “This is Paris, dude. Unless you can top spandex heroes and pigeon villains, I assure you your story can’t be that bad.”
           The ancient teen opened his mouth, ready to retort, when the words processed. “Wait, heroes??? Villains??? Like, on the TV?”
           “Wow, where have you been?”
           “Lost to the sands of Giza for thousands of years.”
           Adrien barked a laugh at the truth, taking it as falsehood even with Amun’s complete seriousness. “Well, this isn’t thousands of years old, but magical heroes and villains did start showing up here about a year ago. It’s kind of become our new normal for Chat Noir and Ladybug to come save the day whenever a monster is afoot.”
           Amun’s curiosity was perked as he ignored the show to press Adrien for more about these magical beings. Adrien was in his element as he sang the praises of the city’s heroes - especially Ladybug - and shown all the videos and articles from the Ladyblog using his phone. Apparently, that’s how he ended up here in the first place. An “akuma,” as they called it, had attacked the city using pigeons (again), and, while the heroes had stopped it and undone the damage, Adrien had been swept into a flock of birds and feathers after the spell on them had broken. The result was a massive allergic reaction and a trip to the ER.
           Amun bit his tongue, but, man, these teen heroes would have fit right in at Monster High. After all, magic and crazy powers? Evil villains? It was like another Tuesday for the mummy boy.
           “Fascinating. You know, I think I read somewhere that there was a magical red lady of luck in ancient times as well in Egypt.” Amun mentioned as he offered the phone back. Vaguely, he began to recall one of the bedtime stories his mother passed to him before her death. “Her and her partner, the night cat. She was of the burning heat and he the restful night. They protected the Nile from all who dare poison her life-giving waters. They were legionnaires of the gods.”
           Adrien’s eyes blew wide. “Seriously? Where’d you hear that?”
           “My mother told me stories… long ago.” He smiled fondly as he remembered her. “She passed when I was ten sol- ah, about ten years old.” He explained. “My adoptive uncle looked into her stories at one point and thinks there is evidence to it, like how the Sphinx was supposed to be a memorium to them both.”
           Adrien’s eyes, if possible, popped wider before they took in all the words. “That’s amazing but… I’m sorry about your mom.”
           “Thank you.” Amun returned genuinely. While many remembered him as the illegitimate son of a pharaoh, his mother was the one who truly raised him. Not since her passing had anyone given their condolences. “But she is in the afterlife on her journey through the underworld, and her heart was always lighter than air. I know that she is fine.”
           Adrien’s smile grew larger but somehow sadder. “I like that sentiment. My mom… my mom disappeared a little over two years ago, so I always try to keep her close to my heart, wherever she is.”
           The topic shifted then from tales of magic to that of mothers. Amun spun grand stories of a mother and child chasing through grand halls and playing simple games though she always cheated in the most ridiculous ways once Amun proved he was well and good at the games. Adrien, in turn, painted the mural of a loving, doting mother who taught him about life’s beauty and a love for knowledge and the world of science, who encouraged his pursuits wherever they took him, even if it ruined his designer clothes and drove his father mad.
           When the door was opened once more, the two teens were laughing just as a third entered. His dark black and blue hair was an instant recognition to Amun, who smiled in return. “Angelo! Where have you been?”
           Angelo raised an eyebrow as he stood tall. “Uh… what are you saying?”
           Amun realized that he was still speaking French and blushed. “Sorry.” He returned in English. “Forgot which language I was in.”
           “I do that sometimes when I get caught up.” Adrien grinned as he added in English.
           Amun spun around. “You speak English?”
           Adrien shrugged as he itched one of the badges that covered the worst of the warts. It was only now that Amun noted how most of the irritation had gone down or vanished altogether. “Enough not to totally sound like a moron.” He looked to the new entry. “Hi, my name is Adrien.”
           “…Angelo.” The American boy returned unsurely.
           Amun continued ignoring his boyfriend’s friend’s hesitance. “He and I are now… what did you call it? ‘Hospital allergy anime buddies?’ Well, he’s in here for allergies, too. I did not know birds could be cursed like this!”
           Adrien chuckled at Amun’s enthusiasm over their shared ailments. “I’m just glad this stuff is working.” He waved his hand around, skin noticeably more clearer now. “My father would have a fit if my skin and health were in jeopardy.”
           Angelo stared at Adrien longer. “Uh, have I seen you somewhere before? You look… you look very familiar somehow.”
           “He kind of resembles Bastet, I think.” Amun noted as he sensed the boy’s magic once more. “Very cat-like.”
           The blonde’s face was somewhere between guarded, humorous, and completely confused. “I… don’t know how to take that.”
           “Compliment.” The American answered as he pulled up a chair. “Being compared to an Egyptian God is always a compliment in Amun’s book. By the way, Amun, the doc said you could be out in about an hour. They had some concerns about the… you know…” Angelo vaguely gestured to his abdomen. “But the great Professor Carter has saved the day once more.”
           The mummy boy scratched his bed shirt (and under wrappings, which were still used as his skin had yet to knit itself back together fully even as his internal organs began to grow back) at the gesture. “I still do not understand why it is such a big deal.”
           The blue and black haired boy rolled his eyes. “And THIS is why I think you’ve spent too much time with Cloe.”
           The door swung open as a doctor and two nurses came in followed by a woman in a fashionable suit. The Carter boys looked in confusion as Adrien had full recognition on his face. “Natalie?”
           “Hello Adrien.” She nodded, ignoring the other teenage occupants of the room. “This is Doctor Danvers. He’s going to transfer you to another, private room for a full evaluation. Your father is attempting to return to the city now from his distribution house, but traffic is appalling post attack.”
           Adrien nodded and looked to the two boys. Natalie had, of course, spoken in French, so while Amun had understood her, Angelo was at a loss. “So, I’m getting transferred around, but it was great talking to you guys!” He smiled brightly. “Hey, you guys want to exchange numbers or something? If you’re still in the city for a few days, maybe we can hang out.”
           Natalie frowned at the boy’s words. “Adrien, you are very busy…”
           Amun ignored the woman as he cheered. “YES! We would love to talk on the fee-one.”
           “Phone. Cell.” Angelo corrected, Amun still occasionally having issues with modern technical terms even with his year spent reanimated in the modern time. Angelo, in turn, pulled around a backpack that had been hidden behind Amun’s chair. The teen rummaged around past English reading books (mostly for elementary school readers as Amun was still learning English) and found a notebook and pen. He quickly scribbled down a number and an email address before tearing the page and handing it to the Parisian teen. “Amun doesn’t have an international plan so just text me. That’s Amun’s email, though, “[email protected],” if you want to contact him directly.”
           “You know, I’ve always wanted a pen pal!” Amun grinned at Adrien even as the Nurses began to move his bed out. “Don’t forget to contact us, alright?”
           Adrien gave a thumbs up. “I’ll make fur to do! Cat’s honor!”
           As the door closed behind the blonde, he heard a belly-splitting laugh and a snort, and the boy couldn’t have been more happy as he clutched the note to his chest. He’d made a new friend, and it was awesome.
           It wasn’t until Adrien was alone, though, that Plagg flew out from his shirt pocket, having hidden there since they’d been hauled off to the hospital. “Man, that kid reeked.”
           “Plagg! That’s rude!”
           “He reeked of the dead, kid.”
           “…what?”
           “Do I need to spell it out? He was a mummy. Undead being of Egypt. The magic was all over him. Now, were’s my cheese.”
           “Wait, WHAT???”
           “You know, I think Adrien would fit in well at Monster High.”
           “Why do you say that?”
           “I don’t know. He has a weird magic about him, like Catrine and Meowlody.”
           “So… Cat kid?”
           “Cat kid.”
           Angelo shrugged as he pulled out his iPod. “Honestly, a French Monster High would be more believable then all this about heroes and villains. Want a listen?”
           Amun accepted the offered earbud. “Oh, I don’t know. Did I ever tell you the story of the Red Lady Luck and her partner the Night Cat?”
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