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makeste · 4 years

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BnHA Chapter 270: Harry Potter Rules

Previously on BnHA: Present Mic punched Ujiko in the face! It was awesome. I’m thinking about getting a tattoo of it. Meanwhile Endeavor saved Mirko’s life by setting her on fire (reason #15 why I will never become a superhero), and Aizawa did some sexy Spider-Man poses for our viewing pleasure while fighting the rest of these Noumus which are still annoyingly refusing to die. Anyway but back to Present Mic, the undisputed MVP of this chapter. Because you see, in addition to the punching, he also used his Loud Voice attack (literally the actual attack name; Horikoshi will steal all of my jokes and leave me with nothing) to smash open Tomura’s Noumutank! Which I really thought was going to immediately lead to Everyone Dying, but apparently I was wrong! Anyways so yeah, right now Tomura’s just lying down all heart-stopped and not-breathing. Which seems very anticlimactic, BUT I JUST HAVE THE CRAZIEST FEELING that maybe, just maybe, the super powerful villain lad who just spent the last three arcs slowly upgrading his bad self just in time to wage war on the world as the story reaches its climax, might not actually be dead though.

Today on BnHA: DON’T MIND THAT OMINOUS ORGAN MUSIC PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND, IT’S NOTHING, IGNORE IT. Ahem. So first of all, as some of the bolder among us dared to speculate, Tomura is not, in fact, dead. He’s still very much kicking it with his nipple-less pecs and truffula tree hair, putzing around in his mental landscape filled with crumbled buildings and disembodied Theatrical Gesture Hands. For some reason he doesn’t have shoes or a shirt in his mental landscape, which was a very interesting choice on Horikoshi’s part, but we will speak no more of it. Anyway so to sum things up, Tomura’s family is all “TENKO WE LOVE YOU” and he’s all “oh hey” and then AFO fucking appears and he’s all “COME HERE MY BOY” which is exactly as creepy as you would expect, and for some fucking reason TOMURA ACTUALLY DOES COME HERE. And lol it turns out Ujiko gave him AFO. Like the quirk. Yes, that quirk. So long story short, Tomura is about to be possessed by AFO’s evil soul or some shit, and to put the cherry on top, fucking Deku out of fucking nowhere, MILES AWAY, is all “HE’S COMING.” Because of course he can sense it, because AFOFA IS REAL, AND FUCK ME THIS IS ALL HAPPENING TOO FAST, FUCK.

I know this chapter has been out since like 1pm, but I’m not getting to read it until 5 hours later because for once in my life I was trying to be responsible and actually get some work done on a Friday. I thought this might lead to less oh-god-I-still-have-to-get-that-done anxiety hovering over my weekend, but instead it just led to oh-god-I-have-to-get-the-chapter-recap-done anxiety hovering over my now! anyways so this might be a bit rushed lol

(ETA: yeah turns out this wasn’t exactly the kind of chapter you could just read quickly and get on with your life lmao. so, then!)

what a nice panel of Present Mic taking out the trash

you heard ‘em fellas. the doctor is secured. good job everyone we did it, manga over, congratulations. now to cut away to a two-page spread of Dark Shadow comically smothering Dabi’s flames with a giant stock pot lid, and that’ll be that! what a wonderful, extremely short and strangely underwhelming arc in which we haven’t even seen the actual main characters do anything yet. but I guess we don’t need them since the main bad guy is lying dead on the floor! everything is just so fucking dead and secured!! do you think if I keep repeating it enough Horikoshi will finally be like “okay geez I get it” and reveal his hand already

Mic is now ordering Ujiko to power down the Noumu, which again, I’m sure he will definitely do without a fuss since after all the good guys have clearly won the day

OH SHIT OH FUCK

rip X-Less. gonna just take a moment here to imprint your beautiful face onto my memory before it turns into a pile of ash. your face, I mean. not my memory. well my memory more or less already is a pile of ash but that’s neither here nor there ANYWAYS

:’)

what are these little sound effects. I think that’s supposed to be a buzzing noise?? anyways whatever it is PLEASE STOP IT, I AM NOT HAVING A NICE TIME SO STOP

ffff Horikoshi sure has done an excellent job of setting the mood in such a way that all of these panels of X-Less doing incredibly mild things are sending my stress levels through the roof. like is anyone else reading his lines more or less like “WELP, TIME FOR ME TO DIE, ANY SECOND NOW, WE’RE REALLY DOING THIS, THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING, HERE IT COMES”

(ETA: when is this poor sweet innocent man going to fucking die already.)

LET’S CUT BACK TO MIC ESCAPING THE IMMEDIATE VICINITY

I have the clearest mental image of Horikoshi standing by with a walkie talkie in one hand and one of those remote bomb detonation clicky switch thingies in the other, patiently waiting to receive the go-ahead once all of the important characters have gotten to safety

anyway so now Ujiko is talking again

no fear everyone this is just the beginning of his verbal noumu deactivation sequence. nothing to worry about. everything is fine

yes for some reason his code phrase to put all the noumus back to sleep involves going into rambling detail about his work researching quirk singularities and shit. it’s fine. it’s not a big deal. code phrases are just like that sometimes all right

just ignore the increasingly panicked look in Mic’s eye as he slowly realizes he was way too fucking keen to just leave the “dead” Tomura back there with his laser-eyed hero buddy. anyway so let’s continue learning all about the Quirk Illuminati or whatever the fuck

okay so... he faked his own death? 70 years ago, at age 50 or thereabouts? I mean, that’s interesting and all I guess. not saying I wouldn’t be thrilled to spend the rest of this chapter learning all about Ujiko’s boring evil life. I don’t need to say it because it’s implied on account of Ujiko sucks and is the worst. so yeah can we get a move on though

oh shit?!?

WHOSE NARRATION IS THAT IN THE BOXES TOMURA IS THAT YOU OH GOD OH GOD

also, comparing AFO’s smile to a buddha’s really sent an actual shudder of disgust down my spine for some reason lmao. I personally would have steered that comparison in a different area, maybe less to buddhas and more to Norman Bates from Psycho, but to each their own

oh shit wait up

okay but this is actually a pretty big revelation though, isn’t it? because it’s been hinted for a while now that AFO and Ujiko had some method of duplicating quirks (the fact that all the Noumu share the same regeneration quirk was the biggest clue, but there was also John-chan’s quirk, as well as Hood’s Muscular-esque quirk), but as far as I can recall, this is the first time we’ve had it confirmed. though to be fair I wasn’t joking when I said my memory really has been shit lately sob

anyway so for real though, can you really call it a BnHA chapter if you’re not spending a good chunk of it being hopelessly confused over the ownership of some ambiguous thought bubbles. WHO IS THIS. I do seriously feel like it’s Tomura, because he’s the wrathful one, but another hallmark of a typical BnHA chapter is me constantly questioning everything I know as I muddle my way through

(ETA: yeah I’m pretty sure it was him. still impressive how vague it is though! it could also potentially be Ujiko, Mic, or even Deku. hopefully Caleb’s translation on Sunday can shed some more light on this. though he wasn’t really helpful last time this happened lol.)

SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

didn’t... you just... say that “preservation” was your quirk?? what do you mean that you wanted it?? CAN YOU JUST FINISH YOUR SENTENCES LIKE A NORMAL PERSON

anyway so here’s a summary of this chapter thus far

present mic: okay goodbye forever x-less

x-less: what a strange thing to say! :) also is it just me or is this machine fucking staring at me

present mic: turn the noumu off please

ujiko: seventy years ago... society... singularity... he’d be 120 years old now...

??: [REPULSIVE FEELING EW WHO’S TOUCHING ME]

ujiko: all for one has the smile of an angel...

??: [SON OF A BITCH I’M SO FUCKING WRATHFUL]

ujiko: my quirk... preservation... the truth is... my quirk... preservation... the truth is... my quirk...

all caught up?? grand. also btw is anyone else super disturbed by the fact that Ujiko recognizes Mic as being “Kurogiri’s friend”, like holy shit though? how would he know that. I can’t think of any implications of this that aren’t super disturbing tbh

anyways back to -- LOL WHAT THE

Horikoshi Kouhei: [furiously scribbling notes to himself at 3am] BUT WHAT IF THE FOLDING CITY FROM “INCEPTION” HAD MORE GIANT HANDS

jesus christ. is this like some mental representation of what shit is currently like in Tomura’s mind? lots of crumbly destruction and traffic lights and the house his father built (isn’t it? I feel like it looks familiar), and SO MANY HANDS, HE JUST LOVES HIS HANDS

anyway so at this point it’s a coin toss whether or not anything in this fucking chapter is ever going to make any kind of fucking sense! but here I am voluntarily along for the ride while Gene Wilder sings that creepy boat song right in my ear!

DSFKLDSJ

ACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF SOMEONE WHO HAS BEEN FLOATING IN A JAR FOR THREE MONTHS TBH. that is some luscious quarantine hair

SDFLKJSDLFKJSLKFDHLKSDJFLKJLKSDJL:FKJSDL:KJ

(ETA: that Tomura in the top left may be my new favorite panel. look at him. all he is is a nose and chin and ~*~HAIR~*~.)

HANAAAAAA AHHHHHH OH MY LORD OH MY LORD! OKAY I’M FINALLY PAYING ATTENTION NOW FOR REAL! NO MORE JOKES! EVERYBODY SHHHH!!!

FFFFFFFFFF

“LOOK AT ME I’M A MAIN CHARACTER I CAN HAVE STRANGE VISIONS AND TALK TO DEAD PEOPLE IN MY DREAMS, SOUND LIKE ANYBODY ELSE YOU KNOW?” TOMURA SHUT UP I DON’T HAVE TIME TO ANALYZE THIS SCENE THEMATICALLY RIGHT NOW I’M TOO BUSY BEING SAD ABOUT YOUR DEAD SISTER WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY CALCULATING THE ODDS OF THIS SOMEHOW BEING FORESHADOWING FOR HER NOT REALLY BEING DEAD. OH GOD, OH FUCK YOU GUYS, I’M FREAKING OUT

WHAT KIND OF YOUNGER BROTHER DOESN’T CALL HIS OLDER SISTER “NEECHAN” TOMURA WHAT KIND OF ANIME CHARACTER ARE YOU

AT THIS POINT HIS HAIR IS ITS OWN INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER WITH THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS WOW

HORIKOSHI PLEASE STOP SHAKING THIS CHAMPAGNE BOTTLE OF SIBLING FEELS SO VIGOROUSLY I AM SO TERRIBLY AFRAID OH GOD

“BY THE WAY TENKO I JUST HAVE TO SAY, YOUR MAN BOOBS ARE SERIOUSLY IMPRESSIVE AND YOU SHOULD BE VERY PROUD.” YES HANA I WAS JUST GOING TO SAY. HOW ASTUTE OF YOU TO POINT THAT OUT. BOY HAS BEEN HITTING THAT BOWFLEX

WTAF IS HIS HAIR THOUGH SERIOUSLY??!

IS IT JUST ME OR IS THIS DIALOGUE BUBBLE ACTUALLY COMING FROM THE HAIR ITSELF. TOMURA. TOMURA BLINK TWICE IF YOU ARE IN DANGER

SJJKJSKJSW

TENKO IT’S ME YOUR GIANT MOM I’M BEHIND YOU HONEY TURN AROUND AND LOOK HELLO HI I LOVE YOU DO YOU STILL WANT TO BE A HERO

ffff why is he so pretty all the time lately

you are very handsome with your billowy hair and ken doll abs, you. sure are having a lot of trippy visions for a dead guy too there

HEY!!!!

WHO SAID YOU WERE ALLOWED -- DO YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST -- ffffffffff I need to be alone with my thoughts for a few minutes fuck

okay well. but since it is getting late I guess we’ll just pack these feelings up real quick and put them inside a box and neatly label it “feelings I have about Tomura having a vision of his mom and immediately turning back into his innocent little boy self in said vision as soon as he sees her.” not too sure about the contents of this box yet but I will have to explore them thoroughly at a later date

oh hey it’s this asshole

“THAT WAS TWENTY YEARS AGO, DAD.” jesus Kotaro. get over it

and also guess what, if you go and get Tomura all riled up so he wakes up grumpy and disintegrates the first hapless guy he sees, I will hold you solely responsible for that poor man’s death. I’m just warning you now

oh my

I remember this conversation going a bit differently the last time, but hey

LOOOOOOL

HIGH FIVE. PUT ‘ER THERE

WHY WOULD YOU LOOK SO SURPRISED LOL DID YOU NOT JUST TURN TOWARDS HIM WITH A SINISTER MURDER FACE LIKE TWO SECONDS AGO. LIKE WTF DID YOU THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN

OH NO OH SHIT

FUCK ME, GUESS IT WOULDN’T BE A DRAMATIC BNHA DREAM SEQUENCE IF THIS ASSHOLE DIDN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE AT SOME POINT OR OTHER NOW WOULD IT

-- HOLY SHIT?!

RECORD SCRATCH, FREEZE FRAME??

holy shit. holy shit. holy shit. holy shit. holy shit. holy shit

holy shit. fuck

...okay so

is this implying that AFO has been Noumufied? but that doesn’t make any sense, does it? he already had multiple quirks. what other advantages could there be to him becoming a Noumu. well whatever I’m just typing out all of my thoughts real fast for the time being and I’ll try to make sense of them later

or is it because he sees Kurogiri as a father figure? and AFO also?

or is he using Kurogiri’s quirk????? IS HE SOMEHOW WARPING INTO TOMURA’S DREAMS

because that third one, to me, is what this panel most looks like? Tomura says he looks like Kuro, but he doesn’t though. Kuro has a very distinctive face which this is very much lacking. instead it looks to me much more like one of Kurogiri’s portals, with AFO’s buddhaesque smile sticking out. so yeah. I got nothin’. except, again, fuck

(ETA: yeah I obviously have more thoughts about this now, but we’ll get to those in a bit.)

...

.......

-- !!!!!!!!!!LKJLK!JLKJ

oh shit oh shit oh shit

OH SHIT

NO BABY NO DON’T DO IT

GASP

THEY’RE TRYING TO SAVE HIM AHHHH

I HAVE LIKE TEN THOUSAND THOUGHTS IN MY BRAIN RIGHT NOW YET SOMEHOW MY MIND IS ALSO STRANGELY BLANK?? I DON’T EVEN KNOW?? I’LL JUST KEEP READING

KOTARO ARE YOU TRYING TO HELP HIM OR ARE YOU PULLING HIM TOWARD AFO??

OH HE’S PUSHING HIM BACK!! OH SHIT IT’S A WHOLE FAMILY EFFORT

THEY’RE TRYING TO SAVE HIM AFO IS GOING TO TAKE HIM OVER AND THEY’RE TRYING TO PROTECT HIM OH GOD OH JESUS

BABY TENKO EYES OH MY GOD HE LOOKS SO MUCH LIKE DEKU THAT I THOUGHT IT WAS DEKU FOR A MOMENT

NO TENKO!!!

FUCK -- DOES HE NOT CARE? HE ACTUALLY UNDERSTANDS WHAT’S ABOUT TO HAPPEN BUT HE DOESN’T CARE?? IS HE TRULY SO PROFOUNDLY MISERABLE THAT HE’D GO AHEAD AND ACCEPT THIS FATE WILLINGLY

NO SOUNDS. NO WORDS. YOU COULD HEAR A PIN DROP IN MY ROOM RIGHT NOW

except that I have the most incredible, chilling, disturbing, electrifying feeling that my mental soundtrack is about to start blaring AFO’s theme from the anime on full blast...!

LOOOOOL SOB OH FUCKK

THE MOST TERRIFYING, DRAMATIC KIP UP YOU’VE EVER SEEN IN YOUR LIFE!! THIS IS IT, IT’S BEEN REAL FRIENDS, THIS IS WHERE WE DIE

-- ARE YOU REALLY, TRULY, GENUINELY SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW

NOW OF ALL TIMES IS WHEN WE FINALLY CUT TO THE TRIO, I’M CAN’T, I’M FUCK

AND THAT’S THE END AHHHHH

holy shit holy shit holy shit. wow

okay so. I don’t really have any sort of neat and tidy way to wrap up this hot mess of a recap lol. so, just... have a whole mess of all of my stupid whirling thoughts

those first four pages really did nothing to brace me at all lol

okay, so. here’s my understanding of all this, I guess. basically we’re going full Harry Potter rules here. AFO horcruxed his quirk, and from the looks of it, a piece of his soul (perhaps even the main piece) along with it. he then passed it on to Ujiko to implant into Tomura

horcrux!AFO then wakes up, and takes over Tomura. so then my understanding is that he’s going to be possessed by him. and I also got the impression that he’s fully aware of that, but just doesn’t care at this point. he knew his family was trying to warn him, but he didn’t care. and that look in his eyes when he disintegrated them just seemed so fucking resigned to me, though. jesus

but now the more interesting thing! so we can liken Tomura to the resurrected Voldemort from book 5 and onward, reborn after transferring his power into a new vessel. which would go a long way toward explaining how AFO was able to sense what was happening from all the way in Tartarus; because if we liken it to Voldemort and his horcruxes, it would mean that he still has a connection to them (similar to the connection between Voldemort’s mind and Harry’s)

but so now comes the really interesting thing -- what does this then imply about the connection between AFO and Deku? because you’ll recall that AFO alluded to a similar mental connection back when Deku first activated SIXQUIRKS. and now we have Deku somehow being magically aware of AFO’s sudden resurgent presence in this chapter. but why?? if the reason AFO and Tomura share a psychic link is because of a shared quirk, why would Deku also be experiencing the same link? the answer is, he wouldn’t -- unless he, too, had the same shared quirk

in other words, I think All for One for All is fucking confirmed you guys. I can’t think of any explanation for this other than that OFA is also a horcrux quirk. a little piece of AFO broken off and embedded in his brother, and then passed along through the generations. and now residing within Deku

anyway. so that’s a hell of a lot to ponder lol. I guess we can at least be grateful for the fact that we’re not waiting two weeks for chapter 271 like Hori originally planned. can you fucking imagine. what a fucking asshole lol

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 4 years

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Right-Side Up AU, Part Three: It’s the End of the World {AO3} {tumblr} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Nineteen → The Hospital

“I mean, you have to admit, from a technical standpoint,” Dustin said, “It’s an engineering marvel.”

“How?” Steve asked, glancing over at him. “There’s no fire exits, no stairs-”

“It all looks the same, too.” Will sighed.

They’d been wandering the tunnels for hours. Dustin glanced over at Will, a bit concerned; he hadn’t said anything about feeling Mike’s presence- or anyone else’s, for that matter- since the elevator. He hoped nothing happened, and Mike could track them soon.

“I don’t think this tunnel was designed for walking.” Robin said, glancing around. “Perfect for transporting cargo, sure. You drop the crates in the elevator, deliver the package, nobody’s the wiser.”

“You think they built this whole mall just so they could transport that green poison?” Steve asked.

“I very seriously doubt it’s something as boring as poison.” Dustin said. “It’s gotta be much more valuable.”

“Like Promethium?” Robin asked.

Will shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What the hell is promethium?” Steve glared over at them.

“It’s what Victor Stone’s dad used to make Cyborg’s bionic and cybernetic components.” Robin said.

“Oh, thank God, it’s a comic thing.” Steve sighed. “I thought it was some other lab shit you hadn’t told me.”

“I think we got most of it down.” Dustin said. “Will, anything you can think of?”

Will shrugged. “Robin, do you believe us yet?”

“I think I’m still processing.” Robin admitted.

“But what I’m saying is,” Dustin said, “The green stuff is probably being used to make something, or power something.”

“You think it’s a weapon?” Will asked.

“Maybe.”

“So we’re walking towards a nuclear weapon.” Steve nodded. “That’d be great.”

“But if they’re building something, why here?” Robin asked. “I mean, it’s Hawkins. We’re a rest stop on the way to DisneyWorld at best.”

Will flinched, stopping dead in his tracks. “Dustin?”

“What?” Dustin’s eyes widened. “Is something wrong?”

Will shivered a little. “You… you know how we thought that this all…” he gestured through the tunnel, “Might have something to do with us?”

“With the Lab and our powers, yeah.” Dustin nodded.

“What if… what if we were on the right track, but still… wrong?”

“You’re losing us, buddy.” Steve said.

Will opened his mouth, then shuddered again and shut his eyes. Dustin quickly ran over, putting his hands on his friend’s shoulders. “Will? Breathe. Breathe, okay? We’re okay.”

“Maybe not for long.” Will shivered, before reaching up and grabbing one of Dustin’s hands. “Dustin… what if it’s the Gate?”

Dustin froze. “Wh- no. No, Mike closed that.”

“Maybe they want him to reopen it.” Will started shaking harder. “What if they’re after him? And I told him to come get us! I’m so stupid! Dustin, what-”

“Calm down. Calm down. Just breathe. Everything’s gonna be okay. Alright. We’re gonna solve this. We’ll fix it. Look at me. Look at me.”

Will finally met Dustin’s eyes, and after a moment, he took a deep breath. “One, two, three…” he began counting, under his breath.

“Four, five, six.” Dustin nodded, speaking with him for a moment.

“What are they doing?” Robin hesitantly asked Steve, eyes wide.

“Seven, eight, nine…”

“It’s a calming-down thing.” Steve explained quickly, before making a shushing motion.

“Ten, eleven…”

“Me.” Will said.

“You.” Dustin nodded, smiling.

Will paused, then smiled, too. “Seven, Kali, Lucas, you-”

“Me!”

“Mike, me.”

“Mike, you!”

Will giggled, and Dustin slowly moved his hands off of his shoulders, though he kept one locked with Will’s, letting their interlocking fingers swing at their sides.

“And, hey,” Dustin breathed, “If it’s the Gate, we’ll take care of it. It won’t happen again.”

“Not again.” Will nodded.

The two of them then turned to the older teenagers. Steve looked Will over quickly to make sure his panic had ceased, before shooting them a thumbs-up. Robin, meanwhile, was staring hard at them.

“So… you’re serious about this shit.” she said. “The superpowers, the Lab, the other dimension-”

“Yep.” Dustin nodded.

“Oh my God.” Robin ran a hand through her hair. “Holy shit. And Mike and Lucas-”

“They’re our brothers, yeah.” Will nodded.

Dustin’s heart skipped a beat, and without thinking he said, “Well, I mean, it’s not- we’re not, like, really brothers, just-”

Will turned to him, a spark of fear in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just-”

“We’re not really brothers?”

“I mean- we’re not, like, siblings, you know? We’re not related, and- and it’s not even like El and Max-”

“Do you not like me?”

“No! I mean, yes, I mean- of course I like you-”

“Then why aren’t we brothers?”

“Steve,” Robin said, “Please control your kids, we need to find an escape route before we starve to death.”

“Okay, boys,” Steve said, holding up his hands to get their attention, “We do not have time for drama when the world’s gonna end, okay? Just get along and talk your issues out later.”

“We don’t have issues!” Dustin tried. “I just-”

Robin held up a hand to silence them, and then they all heard a faint mumble from her bag. She slid it off and opened it, pulling out the walkie-talkie they’d used to talk to Holly earlier; she held up the receiver, and then they heard it.

“That’s the message.” Will said. “Russian. There it is.”

“Wherever that broadcast is coming from-” Dustin began.

“It’s close.” Robin nodded. “Meaning whatever’s going on-”

“It’s close.”

“Well, and, also, we can reach the signal that goes to the surface and contact a rescue team.”

“And then we can stop Mike from coming.” Will said.

Robin nodded. “Come on, let’s go.”

Joyce pulled into the hospital, turning the car off as she parked. “Everyone alive?”

“More alive than we would be if Nancy was driving.” Mike said, smiling a little.

The group walked in, then, with Hopper in the lead, glancing back to make sure everyone stayed together and didn’t wander off, as several of them were apt to do. Max kept grabbing onto El’s arm, who kept looking up at her Dad to make sure he was alright. Joyce shepherded Mike and Lucas in front of her, and as she put a hand on their shoulders, she noticed that Lucas was tensing up, and Mike was starting to shake.

They entered the cold, white hospital, and Joyce realized what was probably worrying them. She whispered, “Hey, are you two gonna be okay?”

Lucas nodded, grabbing Mike’s hand. “It’s different enough.”

“Yeah. Different enough.” Mike muttered, running his free hand through his hair.

They walked up past the front desk, where the receptionist was on the phone; they thought this might be lucky, until she stood up and said, “Now, wait a moment, who are you?”

They froze, glancing at each other. Hopper moved forwards and said, “Listen-”

“No, don’t.” Joyce whispered to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. She guessed that playing the police card right now wouldn’t do them any favors, considering how ticked off this woman looked and how Hopper’d probably been reported by now.

“Hi.” she said, smiling a bit awkwardly. “Um, we’re- we’re here to visit my Aunt. Doris Driscoll? We- we heard she was sick.” the woman looked over her shoulder suspiciously, and Joyce said, “Um, this is my… my family.”

The woman looked to Lucas, who waved and said helpfully, “I’m adopted.”

“Well, I’m sorry, miss, but the hospital rules are two visitors at a time.”

“Uh, if we could just-”

“Two at a time.”

Joyce inhaled sharply, but they didn’t have time to argue. She spun on her heel and said, “Okay, who wants to visit Aunt Doris first?”

“Feel like it should be Dad.” El said, rocking slightly on her feet. “Since he’s, you know…” she waited until the secretary went back to her phone, and then whispered, “The police officer detective guy. He’ll know where to look.”

“I don’t want to split up again.” Joyce sighed. “Maybe you can sneak after us?”

“Doubt that’ll work.” Max sighed, crossing her arms. “Look, we’ll stay down here in the waiting area. You run up, set her loose, we’ll follow you out. Meet you in the car if need be.”

Joyce sighed, turning to Hopper. He shrugged and said, “If you kids’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be fine, Dad. We can take care of ourselves.” El smiled, before lightly punching his shoulder. “Let’s find the Mind Flayer, eh?”

El and Lucas stood by the vending machine, as El showed him how to work it. “You put the quarter in,” she said, “And you press- D3, that’ll get us the KitKat. And then it just- son of a bitch!”

The machine had whirled a little, and then gotten stuck. El kicked it, groaning. “Come on, you piece of shit!”

“You said it dropped the food out for you.”

“It does.” El sighed. “Sometimes it gets stuck. Help me hit it, might rattle it enough.”

Lucas pushed it a little, and El continued kicking. Their assault on the vending machine only went on for a little while, though, as after a second, there was a slight vibration which made them step back, and then several bars and bags of candy burst forward, dropping from the door and towards the slot.

They glanced at each other, and then over towards the magazine table, where Mike and Max were sitting. Mike was looking over, and quickly wiped his nose.

Lucas shot him a thumbs-up and then went to grab the candy. El stiffened slightly, then said, “Thanks?”

Mike nodded.

El knelt by the candy, and as they collected it, Lucas said, “Max likes the chocolate, can you hand me that?”

“Yeah, though she’s really into skittles.”

“Yeah, I know, but she likes chocolate too, and I wanna give her something.”

“Lucas, we’re waiting for my Dad and Will’s mom to release a possessed crazy lady,” El said, “Now’s not the time for gifts.”

“But- do you think she’s still mad at me? I think she was mad about me telling Mike about Billy.”

“She’s gotten over it by now, we’ve more important things to deal with.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want her mad at me.”

El sighed, then glanced to Max, who was boredly tossing a magazine back on the table. “You like her, right?”

“I like all of you.”

“Lucas, be serious.” El sat cross-legged on the floor, dumping her candy stash on her lap, looking over at him. “You know she’s got a crush on you. And you’ve got a crush on her.”

“Crush?”

“I know for a fact you know what that word means. Stop playing obtuse. Just ask her out. I mean, maybe not while we’re watching the world end, but like- just let her know.”

Lucas bit his lip.

“Come on. You guys like each other. Just… talk it out.”

“It’s not… like that.”

“Lucas-”

“It’s just…” Lucas sighed, then sat across from El, holding out his shirt to dump his candy into. “It’s not like you and Mike.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I mean- we’ve only known each other a few months. You… you and Mike met and trusted each other and called for three-hundred fifty three days and always hang out and…” Lucas sighed. “I don’t understand things she says and things happening around me and I can’t- I sometimes think I’ll never understand and she… she deserves someone- and… and Mike and I both tend to protect. He thinks he has to protect everyone but I’m the shield, I’m the one who always kept us safe. And… and I don’t know if I can keep her safe. I want her to be safe so bad but she’s…”

“Wild?” El guessed. “Untameable? Impulsive?”

“I don’t know the word.” Lucas said. “I… I guess the word is Max. She’s… she’s free and strong but- but when things scare her, I don’t know how to help.”

“You can figure it out.” El reached out, grabbing his hand. “Lucas, we’re fourteen. We can and will fuck up. Say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing- but we’ve got time. This isn’t the Lab. You can figure things out without getting hurt.” She flinched slightly. “I mean, yeah, monster from another dimension possessing her shit stepbrother, but… when that’s not happening, you can work it out. Hell, you can fucking ask her what she needs. You like spending time with her, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And being with her makes you happy?”

“Really happy.”

“Well, guess what?” El said. “She’s happy to be with you. So, go over there, give her the candy. I think this stressful-ass situation basically has granted you an olive branch.”

“A… what?”

“Just go, loverboy.” El giggled. “And do yourself a favor, do not follow Steve’s girl advice.”

“Um, okay?” Lucas slowly stood, his arms still full of candy. “What about-”

“I’ll talk to Mike, so it won’t be awkward or anything.” El said. “You go.”

As she stood, and Lucas started walking over, El glanced over to Mike and sighed. She felt the candy in her hands, and wondered if maybe he’d given her an olive branch, too. She walked over, and said, “Hey, Mike, come here a sec, let’s sort through this?”

Mike nodded, and they moved to the side-chairs, dumping the bags and bars out. She glanced over her shoulder, to see Lucas sitting beside Max, and then turned back to Mike, taking a deep breath. “Mike?”

“Hmm?”

“Look, I… I do trust you, okay? I believe in you-”

“Is this about my powers?”

“I just want to say- I’m just worried.” El said. She sighed, and looked over to him. “I really… really don’t want you getting hurt. Because you’re the bravest, kindest, sweetest, most wonderful person I know, and if anything happens to you I-” she shut her eyes. “Look-”

“El,” Mike said, and he slowly sat down on a chair, staring at nothing. “El, I… I think you’re the coolest person in the world. And I have to protect you- and Lucas, and Max, and Dustin and Will and- and everyone. I have this… I can do these things, I should be able to use them to- and now the Shadow is doing this because I didn’t do a good enough job closing the Gate-”

“This is not your fault, Michael Wheeler.” El said. She slid onto the seat next to him, grabbing his hand. “Look at me. Not the Gate, not the Monster, nothing. Who made you open the Gate?”

Mike sighed. “Papa. And the Bad Men.”

“And who’s the one eating people?”

“Demogorgon.”

“It’s not you. It was never you.” El sighed. “If I had that power, and they’d kidnapped me, the same thing would happen.”

Mike’s eyes hardened, and he squeezed her palm. “If they took you, I’d rip the lab apart brick by brick.”

El smiled, and then said, “And if someone takes you away, I’ll do the same, powers or no powers.”

He smiled, and then looked over at Max and Lucas. “El? Are they okay?”

“Hey.” Lucas said.

“Hey.” Max said.

They sat beside each other as Mike and El left, and then Lucas handed out a fistful of candy. “Do you want some?”

“Uh, sure.” Max glanced over at him, holding out her hand.

He put some Skittles packs onto her open palm, and said, “El said you have an olive branch.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” Lucas bit his lip. “I was hoping you knew?”

Max thought a moment, and then laughed a little. “El, oh my God.”

“What is it?”

“An olive branch is a symbol of peace after anger.” Max said, swiveling around in the chair to face him, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. “And I’m not mad.”

“You were before.”

“Well, a lot has happened. Put things in perspective.” Max sighed. “I just… didn’t want to believe Billy could be-” she shut her eyes. “Did I tell you that he’s been my stepbrother since I was… maybe around six?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s… basically my brother.” Max sighed. “Even if he only acts like it sometimes.”

“He hurt you.”

“People hurt each other.” Max whispered. “And… and people hurt him.”

“People hurt me.” Lucas said. “And you. And we’re not hurting anyone else.”

Max sighed. “I guess. I just… it used to be easier.”

“Easier?”

“Hating him. Just pure hate. Not thinking about… his feelings. Especially when he’s a sexist, racist piece of-” Max cut herself off. “I just… maybe it’s the two years he was gone. Maybe it numbed me. Or maybe I got older and realized things were happening to him, too. And… and seeing him get exorcized- or attempted, it- I know how it feels, to have that thing inside you. Rotting, spreading… making you do things… and then you’re burning…”

She shivered and then put her head in her hands. Lucas grabbed her arms in a gesture of comfort, and she laid her head on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“No.” she admitted. “No, I’m not okay. I- I want to hate him.”

“Max…”

Lucas glanced back, to see that Mike and El were looking over at them. Mike started standing up, about to come over. He sighed, and said, “Max, we’re all here for you.”

“I know…”

Mike and El started over, and Max must have heard them, cause she pulled away a little, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She glanced over, and El said, “Is everything okay? We can go back if-”

“No, I…” Max swiveled a bit, so she could face them all. “I wanna talk to Mike and Lucas about…” she sighed. “This is gonna sound really bad.”

“Say whatever you need.” Lucas said carefully.

Max looked down at her lap, and then said, “Do you ever miss Brenner?”

El stiffened, and Lucas flinched. Mike clenched his fists, about to answer a resounding no, but before he could, Lucas asked, “Why?”

Max hugged herself. “Because… I know he was a dick. He was the worst, he kidnapped and tortured you and- but… but he was your Dad, for a long time.”

“He was never our Dad.” Mike said. “Dads take care of you.”

“But you thought he did.” Max turned to him, and he noticed her eyes had gone a bit red. “He raised you. And… do you ever… do you ever think of good things about him and then- and then feel bad because he sucked?”

Lucas bit his lip, and then said, “When I was younger, he used to do nursery rhymes with me. And he brought me books when the other scientists told him it wouldn’t do anything, it would just make me… restless. He taught me how to read.” he smiled a little, and then frowned a lot. “I forgot about that. But… you’re right. It’s… complicated.”

Mike wasn’t meeting any of their eyes, but then he whispered, “We had a clapping game. And he gave me… these headphones, for when the alarms went off and I was in my room. And the noise got too loud.” He shook his head. “But that doesn’t make up for anything. And he’s gone, so-”

“But…” Max shivered. “Is it bad if you miss him?”

El squeezed Mike’s hand, and then said, “Max, what’re you getting at?”

“I… it’s hard. To remember that… the same guy who broke my skateboard and pulled my hair… he also taught me basketball, and told me when Neil was getting drunk so I could go to El’s. And he also… he took me swimming and tried to show me how to surf while we were in California and I’d cheer him on, but then he also tried to keep me from having friends, and wanted me to be miserable.” She started rocking back-and-forth in her seat, the words rushing out. “He called me so many things, and- and I’d yell back, and then he’d- he’d throw me into the wall, and say it was my fault for disrespecting- and then I’d see the same thing happen to him, when he talked back to Neil. I hid his cigarettes for him and he convinced Mom that going to the Arcade wasn’t bad for me. And then he’d lock me out of the house and forget to pick me up and get blackout drunk and I’d have to climb in a window or sleep on the porch. We’d patch each other up, and then I’d have to listen to him and Neil talk horribly at the dinner table about- about anyone different from them. And I knew they meant it and it was awful, I wanted to throw up, I still do.”

Lucas squeezed her arm as she kept going. “And I know he hurt me but… but sometimes he’d stand between me and Neil, or make excuses for why I was late, and I’d feel so confused because he’d hit me and scream at me and make me feel like garbage, and I know he’s not a good person at all… but then he’d still be nice sometimes. And… and I just don’t know what’s worse.”

“Max…”

“What’s worse? To…” Max finally burst into tears. “To cry over a monster, or not to mourn your big brother?”

Lucas moved out of his chair, and jumped onto Max’s so that he could pull her into a tight hug. El and Mike moved forwards, too, all hugging her close as she tried to calm herself down.

“It’s okay.” Lucas said.

“We get it.” El muttered.

When they pulled away, Mike grabbed Max’s hands, and waited until she looked at him, and then he said, “It’s okay to be sad.”

“But-”

“And…” Mike swallowed, and then said, “Sometimes I… I miss people and things I shouldn’t. But I still miss them.”

Lucas nodded, as Max let out a small smile. “So, we’re all fucked up?”

“All fucked up.” Mike nodded.

They smiled, but just as they did, El heard a distant, muffled sound of a door slamming.

She whipped around, and felt a dread start to rise in her.

“Guys?”

The elevator dinged, and as the door opened, Joyce said, “How exactly are we going to do this?”

“Well,” Hopper said, looking down the halls for the right door, “I was thinking we open the door, and tell her to take us to the fucking shadow bitch or I shoot her in the fucking head.”

“Hop.”

“I mean, hopefully she’ll be up for it.”

“You can’t just… waltz in there and expect her to be able to escape without a plan!”

“I have a plan. Let her escape.”

Joyce glanced nervously at a flashing light above them. “Why do I still hang out with you?”

“Because we have no choice.” Hopper found the door, and threw it open, slight panic and impatience clouding emboldening him. “Rise and shine, Driscoll! We’ve got a- oh shit.”

Joyce followed him in and quickly saw what there was to oh shit about. Driscoll’s bed was empty, the covers in disarray, and there was an overturned pot of flowers on the bedside table.

“Where is she?” Joyce said.

“I don’t know.”

“Is this the right room?”

Hopper moved to a file on the table, flipping it open. “Either it is or her medical history’s been dropped in some other patient’s room. I don’t see her getting released on here.”

“Did she-” Joyce began.

Then they heard a chilling voice behind them. “She’s gone home.”

The two whipped around, to see Tom Holloway standing in the hall, cocking his head slightly to watch them. He raised a hand, dripping with thick, red blood, and then he smiled, “Nice of you to bring us our prize.”

He grabbed the door and swung it shut. Hopper instantly shouted and ran for it, only to find it was stuck- something had been jammed against it.

“Hopper, what did that mean?” Joyce said, even as she knew what that meant. “What did that mean?”

“It means we need to get the hell out of here!” Hopper stepped back, and now the fear was showing. “We need to break down this door, now! Now!”

El stood, creeping a bit towards the noise. Mike quickly followed her, and Max and Lucas at his heels, grabbing each other’s hands. El peered around a corner, and thought she saw a flash of a leg as someone disappeared behind a door swinging shut- the stairwell. Were those the pants that Joyce had been wearing?

“Ms Byers?” she called.

No response.

“Should we go after her?” Max asked carefully, still wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Maybe they need help.”

“We shouldn’t be sitting here anyway.” Mike muttered, bouncing his leg. “We should be helping.”

“We don’t want to get separated, and they told us to wait here.” Lucas said.

El took a deep breath, and then said, “Party vote. All in favor of following someone who might be Ms Byers up the stairs?”

Max and Mike raised their hands. Lucas sighed and then raised his.

“Unanimous then.” El said. She gestured, and they moved to the stairwell. Max held open the door for them, and they went up, listening for the sound of footsteps above them- while they were too far behind to see who they were following, a mistake they should have noted, they could hear her traveling, and eventually they heard a door swing open and shut. El judged the distance and then took them to the door that the woman had likely disappeared into.

Once they got in the hall, though, Max froze, standing stock-still, and then she doubled over.

“Max!” El ran over, grabbing her sister’s shoulders, while Lucas let out a startled yell and put an arm around her, trying to help her up. “Max, what-”

“He’s here.” Max said, her voice raspy as more tears sprang to her eyes. “He’s here.”

“Well,” said a bright voice, “What are you kids doing here?”

They turned, and saw Heather Holloway watching them, a smirk at the corner of her mouth and suspicious red stains up her arms.

She looked straight to Mike and said, “Hello, Eleven.”

#stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things au #rightside up au #st fanfic #rsu3 #mine #my fanfic

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rebellingstagnationblog · 5 years

Text

Mele Kalikimaka - World of Color

My deepest apologies for giving you two very long and intensive stories in a row. The stories will vary in length from here on out, I promise.

But now we finally get to find out what happened in Hawai'i!

Louie glanced back into the living room where most of the group was still convened. "I just," he sighed. "I think we should tell everyone about Hawai'i."

Gosalyn glared. "You shut your mouth."

"Would it be so bad?" Louie asked. Uncle Donald's fixation on their island excursion during this holiday getaway had been slowly eating away at him. He hadn't kept a secret from his uncle for long; he wasn't physically capable of it.

"Yes," she said. "It would. Dad and Donald would kill Scrooge dead."

Louie groaned. "I wish that was an exaggeration."

"See? Then it's better kept a secret. Just play it cool, Lou." Gosalyn turned and went back into the great room.

Was she right?

Hawai'i had pretty much been a disaster, but it had ended okay. Everyone was safe.

Now.

They were safe now.

Weighing his options, Louie went over the trip in his mind for what seemed like the thousandth time, really considering how Uncle Donald and Drake might react to some of the details.

—…—…—…—…—…—…—…—

"Come along, lads!" Uncle Scrooge exclaimed. "I'm not getting any richer standing here!" He ran ahead through the lush plant life towards the rocky alcoves with the energy of a duck half his age.

But they lingered behind.

"Did you see his eyes?" asked Huey.

"Kinda glazed over," confirmed Dewey. "Has he started itching?"

"Not that I've seen."

"I called Gosalyn last night," Louie said. "She should be here soon."

"You told her this was an emergency, yeah?" Huey said.

"No, we just had a nice chat before gossiping about Project Runway." Louie rolled his eyes.

"Gold fever is nothing to joke about!" Huey snapped, rounding on him.

"I remember how serious it is!" Louie retorted. "I was there, too!"

"Guys, we can't fight," said Dewey, stepping between them. "It's gonna take all three of us to make sure Uncle Scrooge doesn't get any worse. Can you please save this for later?"

Huey and Louie eyed one another before Huey sighed. "Sorry. I just… I haven't seen Uncle Scrooge this bad since we were kids."

"It's going to be okay as long as we stick together," said Dewey.

"C'mon slowpokes!" Uncle Scrooge called, waving back at them. "That tomb's not gonna explore itself!" He rearranged the backpack strap on his shoulder before turning and running off.

"Was that an itch?" Huey demanded.

"I don't know. Louie, stay here and check on Gosalyn's ETA. Huey, let's follow Uncle Scrooge before he gets himself into trouble."

Huey's jaw ticked but he set off after Uncle Scrooge with Dewey at his side, trekking towards the soothing crash of the nearby waves.

Louie grabbed his phone and called Gosalyn, shifting his weight as the dial tone buzzed in his ear.

He counted three rings before Gosalyn answered. "What's up?"

"Where are you?" Louie all but blurted.

"Should be there in a few minutes. You guys able to hold out that long?"

"Yeah," said Louie, glancing towards the grottos where his family had gone to. "We're headed to some cave. I'm waiting outside for you."

"Just you?" Louie heard something snap on Gosalyn's end of the phone. "Where are the others?"

"Heading toward the cave. Uncle Scrooge's fever is getting worse."

"Wouldn't be an adventure without complications, would it? We're almost over you. See you soon."

Hearing the hum of an approaching plane, Louie glanced up. The sleek black jet soared towards him, a stark contrast to the deep blue skies, lush green mountains, and feathered palm trees. The precision of the long curved wings reminded Louie that he wasn't on vacation on this scenic island. He was treasure hunting and his uncle was in danger of falling under gold fever, a disease that caused it's victims to itch for gold so much they forgot about the existence of anything else.

They weren't even looking for gold, which was why it was such a shock to see Uncle Scrooge afflicted by it now. They were after jewels, diamonds, and even feathers from extinct birds.

And, yeah, Uncle Scrooge sometimes became so enamored with a treasure that he would stop at nothing to find it, and was willing to sacrifice most anything, including his own safety.

But he would never sacrifice them. Not his nephews.

Gold fever shifted your priorities, though. Made you value the treasure above anything else. And if Uncle Scrooge couldn't shake it, Gosalyn was here with only one objective: get them all home.

The plane glided overhead, a small dot jumping from it before the aircraft rocketed away. The dot grew in size, becoming more discernible as Gosalyn as she got closer. Once she was at the right distance, she deployed her parachute and sailed towards Louie.

Upon hitting the ground, Gosalyn unhooked the harness from around her and jogged over. "Where's this cave?" she asked, grabbing her bow and stringing it.

"This way," Louie said, leading her towards the sound of the waves. He pulled up Huey's contact information on his phone and hit the location button, making sure he was headed for the small picture of his brother on the map of the island. "Uncle Scrooge just started itching, probably because we're so close to the tomb."

"Who's tomb are you excavating and for what?"

"Kameha-someone, I think."

Gosalyn stopped in her tracks, Louie skittering to a halt to face her.

"You think?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Pretty sure is not knowing."

"Okay, then I know."

"Oh my God, Louie! Is it King Kamehameha? As in Kamehameha the Great who's tomb should under no circumstances be disturbed?"

The dread that had been clawing at him since Uncle Scrooge had started showing symptoms spiked to fear. "How do you know so much about Hawai'ian history?"

"What else was I supposed to do on an eight hour flight? Listen to 'Cups' the whole time?"

"Why would you listen to 'Cups' more than, like, twice in a row?"

"We're getting off subject," Gosalyn said, walking onward.

"You're the one who brought up 'Cups.'" Louie took the lead, glancing between the landscape and his phone and guiding Gosalyn through the lush island vegetation towards the shoreline. The mountains and ocean met in several miles of sheer cliff face. There were, supposedly, coves and caves carved into these cliffs, one of which was the rumored resting place of Kamehameha the Great.

"Fever or not, we're getting out of here," said Gosalyn as she easily scaled over the sharp rocks towards the dark opening yawning before them. "His tomb is sacred, no one's supposed to know where it is."

"Is it cursed? We get a lot of curses on adventures." Louie had to put his phone away so he could use his hands to steady himself as he climbed over the rocks.

"How any of you made it to adulthood is beyond me."

Gosalyn drew an arrow as they entered the cave, Louie turning on a flashlight and directing it in front of them. The light revealed a fairly typical cave, small streams of water flowing out from the recesses of the cave towards the ocean.

Gosalyn continued, "His bones are infused with divine power granted to him by the gods. It's what gave him the right to rule and why he was so successful. There's no telling what will happen if that power is disturbed."

"Sounds pretty curse-y to me."

"It's not a curse."

"Thought you two would never show up!" snapped Huey, his own flashlight beam bouncing along the walls as he scurried up to them. "He's getting worse."

"We really need to leave," Dewey said, right on Hueys' heels.

"Where's Uncle Scrooge?" asked Louie.

"Back there," said Dewey, pointing over his shoulder. "He started rubbing up against the walls like he was a cat."

"It didn't happen this fast before," Huey said.

"You think it's the curse?" Louie turned to Gosalyn.

"It's not a curse," she said, walking into the cove.

The cavern around them shuddered. The streams of water and other small pools that had been collected during high tide rippling as pebbles rained down from above. Huey, Dewey, and Louie gripped onto the wall nearest them as Gosalyn dropped to one knee, nocking her arrow.

She glanced back. "Grab your uncle. We're leaving."

Huey sprang up, running up an incline, calling, "Uncle Scrooge?" His voice echoed around the cavern. "We gotta go!"

"Go?" came Scrooge's voice from just beyond the small hill of rock. "Nonsense, lad! We've come too far to give up now!"

"Huey's right," Dewey said, following after his brother. Louie darted behind him as Gosalyn drew her arrow, her eyes scanning their surroundings in the bobbing flashlight beams.

When Louie reached the peak of the hill, he cast his light down and saw Huey wrestling with Uncle Scrooge on the ground, who was trying to scramble father into the grotto. Huey had tossed his flashlight aside, its beam of light illuminating the cavern from the ground, casting long shadows.

"Unhand me!" Uncle Scrooge cried, kicking in an attempt to free himself. Huey ducked but managed to hang on, tugging him towards the entrance. "I don't know what's gotten into you, lad."

"Huey's fine," Dewey said, approaching and grabbing Uncle Scrooge's arm. "You have gold fever."

"I do — hic! — not!" Uncle Scrooge continued to flail as Huey and Dewey pulled him back. "There isn't even gold to be had. Just jewels — hic! — and feathers of — hic! — extinct birds. Just think how grand we'll look — hic! — wearing those — hic! — warrior's robes! Hic! Let me go!"

Louie ran down, tucking his flashlight under his arm, and took ahold of Uncle Scrooge's shoulder. "There will be other treasures. We should leave this one alone; the tomb is sacred."

"You three probably want — hic! — the treasure for yourselves!" Uncle Scrooge kicked out again and Huey lost his grip. Managing to get his feet under him, Uncle Scrooge shoved himself up, pushing Dewey and Louie back.

The grotto shuddered around them again, the boys stumbling backwards as Uncle Scrooge steadied himself with both hands.

"Let's go!" called Gosalyn, coming over the ridge with her arrow still drawn.

"Gosalyn?" Uncle Scrooge said, surprised enough to momentarily forget about the treasure. He grabbed Huey's discarded flashlight and pointed it at her. "What are ye doing here?"

"Strike Team Omega was called in, sir," she said, glancing around the area before making her way over to them.

Uncle Scrooge glowered at the triplets, the beam of the flashlight almost burning in accusation. "Did you call her in?"

"You have gold fever, Uncle Scrooge!" Huey said, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. "We had to do something!"

"I've had enough of this gold fever nonsense," Uncle Scrooge said, glaring at each of them in turn. "Gosalyn, go home. I will call you if you're needed. Boys — hic! — let's go."

Another tremor wracked through the cavern.

"That can't be an earthquake," Dewey rationed, catching Huey and righting him on his feet. "The tremors are too random."

"And they're getting more intense," Louie said, pointing his flashlight down the dark mouth of the grotto. As if watching the stones shake loose would give them insight as to why these tremors were happening.

"Mr. McDuck," called Gosalyn. "We're going."

"I'm not leaving without — hic! — my treasure!"

The next tremor brought a chunk of stone careening towards the ground.

Straight at them.

Gosalyn shoved Louie out of the way as Huey, Dewey, and Uncle Scrooge dodged it.

"Come on!" Gosalyn ran around the boulder now lodged in the floor and helped Huey and Dewey up.

"I'm not — hic! — going anywhere!" Uncle Scrooge said, his flashlight beam bounding around the cavern erratically.

Her expression determined, Gosalyn approached Uncle Scrooge, hands on her hips. "I'm not asking."

The grotto quaked, stones raining down on them. Huey, Dewey, and Louie threw their hands up to cover their heads, but Gosalyn didn't move, still glaring down at Uncle Scrooge.

"I am your employer!" Uncle Scrooge got to his feet and stared her down, which was impressive since Gosalyn had a few inches on him. "I call you in and tell you what to do, not my nephews." He reached out and grabbed ahold of her bow with one hand, tugging it out of her grip. "And I am saying to let me go after — hic! — the treasure." Another quaking shudder ricocheted through the cavern, Gosalyn and Uncle Scrooge swaying, but not losing their footing.

"And I am saying, sir," Gosalyn ground out, yanking her bow free from Uncle Scrooge's grasp, "that we're leaving. My job is to make sure you all get home safely."

"Then consider yourself fired." Uncle Scrooge turned to Huey, Dewey, and Louie. "Come on — hic! — boys."

He started to walk away when Gosalyn shot her arrow at him, a bola chord snaking around his ankles and wrapping all the way up to his shoulders. He toppled over with a cry. The flashlight bounced on the ground, rolling away and casting its light toward the mouth of the grotto. As if pointing them towards their escape.

"Grab him," she instructed as she pulled out another arrow, the grotto vibrating again. Once the ground was sturdy, Huey and Dewey darted forward and grabbed Uncle Scrooge, who protested amongst his hiccups, Louie using his flashlight to make sure his brothers could properly see.

The cave was shaking consistently now, tremors growing more intense and wracking up and down the grotto. Rocks rained from above in a downpour. Gosalyn led Louie to an outcropping under which where they took shelter. Dewey and Huey half-carried, half-dragged Uncle Scrooge to the wall where they hunkered down in a small hollowed out section.

"Is this the curse?" Louie yelled to be heard over the crashing rocks and glanced at Gosalyn.

Before she could answer, a monstrous reptilian foot thudded down in front of them, ebony talons curving down and digging into the rock as though it was nothing more than mud.

Louie and Gosalyn leaned forward, looking up to see a lizard of prehistoric proportions. The long flat head extended from a stout neck that stretched out from the long scaled body. It's lips were curled in a growl, gleaming pointed fangs a contrast to the soft pink gums and whip-like tongue that snaked out between the teeth.

The thing straightened up, blue green scales rippling in the faint light cast by the discarded flashlight, scarlet spikes rising along its spine.

When it took a step forwards, the grotto shook violently and Louie understood. The tremors had been this prehistoric lizard walking towards them. It had probably been deep in the cavern, and if they'd gone in search of this tomb, they likely would have been ripped limb from limb. Or eaten whole.

"Told you it wasn't a curse," Gosalyn said softly, looking over to Huey, Dewey, and Uncle Scrooge. The boys were pressed up flat against the rock, eyeing the lizard in awe. Uncle Scrooge, on the other hand, was wriggling against his restraints. He'd managed to get a hand free. It wouldn't be long before—

"Oh, hell," said Gosalyn, nocking her arrow as Uncle Scrooge sprang to his feet, darting farther into the grotto.

"No!"

"Uncle Scrooge!"

The lizard roared and followed Uncle Scrooge, the cavern shaking around them so violently that Louie couldn't keep his feet under him and he fell over, his flashlight's beam whipping from rock wall to rock wall.

"We don't want to find the tomb!" Gosalyn called, running out and grabbing the discarded flashlight. The lizard whipped around to face Gosalyn, its tail lashing out behind it and slamming down into the grotto's wall. It missed Uncle Scrooge by mere inches, but he still fell over from the ricochets.

"Maybe you don't," Uncle Scrooge grunted as he climbed to his feet. "But I — hic! — do!"

The lizard roared, whipping it's tail around furiously and Uncle Scrooge dodged and ducked to avoid getting hit.

"She can understand you!" said Gosalyn,

"You know it's a she?" Huey called.

"She can what?" Dewey cried.

"Kihawahine!" Gosalyn said, raising up her hands in surrender, the flashlight pointing up to the curved ceiling of the grotto. "We will leave the tomb in peace."

The lizard regarded Gosalyn for a moment, golden eyes gleaming in the low light. But suddenly the lizard roared, lunging backwards with its teeth bared.

Towards Uncle Scrooge who was attempting to slip back in the cavern, hiccuping wildly.

Gosalyn swore, shoved the flashlight in her teeth, nocked, drew, and fired her arrow.

The net arrow deployed and wrapped around Uncle Scrooge, the ends tying together and effectively trapping him within its confines.

Gosalyn reached up and grabbed the flashlight from her mouth. "Get him out of here!" she called, tossing the flashlight to Huey, who caught it easily.

Dewey and Louie ran over towards Uncle Scrooge, who was attempting to free himself from the net. But it held fast; the ends appeared to be welded together to dissuade any escape. They dragged Uncle Scrooge towards the grotto's opening.

The lizard roared again, snapping her jaws in frustration. Gosalyn stationed herself between the boys and the lizard.

Reaching into one of her pouches, she dug out a knife and pressed it into Dewey's hand. "You can free him when you're sure he doesn't have the gold fever anymore. Or when you've reached Duckburg. Whatever happens first."

"But," said Louie, glancing back at Gosalyn as Huey also grabbed some of the net and helped drag Uncle Scrooge out of the grotto, "you're coming with us."

"I'm making sure you get home," Gosalyn said, looking up at the lizard. Slowly, she kneeled down, placing her bow on the ground before unbuckling her quiver and placing it alongside her bow.

"What are you—"

"Kihawahine is a goddess, Lou. This isn't needless violence, she's protecting something."

"Yeah, the tomb. But we're not gonna find it, so can't we leave? Together?"

Kihawahine stomped forward, a huge taloned foot thudding in between them. The impact send Louie stumbling backwards and he landed on his backside, jarred but not injured.

"Get out of here!" Gosalyn cried before Kihawahine roared again, her massive head and sharp teeth coming straight for Louie.

Not needing to be told twice, Louie scrambled up the hill and out of the grotto, heart pounding furiously somewhere in the region of his throat.

He jogged away, finding Huey and Louie barely past the rocks of the grotto. They were wrestling Uncle Scrooge who was, once again, putting up a fight.

"You boys will — hic! — regret this! Think of the treasure — hic! — you're abandoning! I can't believe members of my own — hic! — family are betraying me like this!"

Louie jumped on top of Uncle Scrooge and managed to get him on his back so he was sitting on his chest. "Uncle Scrooge!" he cried. "This has to stop! Now is not the time for treasure!"

"It's always — hic! — time for treasure," Uncle Scrooge argued.

Louie grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. "You awakened a goddess and Gosalyn is sacrificing herself to get us home safely. If she hadn't been here, Kihawahine would have killed us. Come on, Uncle Scrooge, snap out of it!" Louie shook him slightly, hoping his words would sink in.

And something he said must have gotten through, because Uncle Scrooge shook himself and his eyes lost their glossy look. "Louie?"

"Please, Uncle Scrooge. We have to get out of here. Treasure doesn't matter!"

His beak twisting in guilt, Uncle Scrooge said, "Yer right, lad."

Huey and Dewey approached cautiously, glancing at one another, not trusting that Uncle Scrooge had shaken off the gold fever.

Uncle Scrooge glanced between the three. "I couldna see past my own greed and put you three in danger. Can ya ever forgive me?"

"Of course we can, Uncle Scrooge," breathed Huey, relief flooding his features.

"We know treasure is important to you," said Dewey, helping Uncle Scrooge sit up as Louie slid off to sit beside him.

"But is should not be something I put before any of you." Uncle Scrooge grabbed onto the netting. "Where's Gosalyn?"

"Still in the grotto," said Louie. "Made me leave without her."

"We have to help!" Huey said.

"Aye. Any of ye have a knife?"

Dewey pulled out the knife Gosalyn had given him and started sawing away at the netting until Uncle Scrooge was freed. Tossing the net away, Uncle Scrooge looked at the boys, a serious expression on his face. "I'm sorry fer making ye think yer less important to me than some blasted treasure."

None of them responded, but they smiled in understanding. It wasn't the first time Uncle Scrooge became enamored with a treasure and thought of nothing else.

"Now let's go see if we can help Gosalyn," said Uncle Scrooge, getting to his feet.

But they weren't needed after all.

Gosalyn emerged from the grotto just as they were approaching it again, her quiver strapped in place and her bow in hand.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, reaching back for an arrow. "How did he get free?"

"He doesn't have gold fever anymore," explained Dewey.

Gosalyn sent them all a skeptical look. "So you're returning to the cave for a good time?"

"For you," Louie said.

Gosalyn shook her head. "Kihawahine is going to let us leave provided we never return to this island again." She studied Uncle Scrooge. "You okay with leaving, sir?"

"I think it best, lass. And if yeh'll take it, ye still have a position as Strike Team Omega."

"I'll need to think about it," she said, unstringing her bow and putting it away. "Shall we, gentlemen? Before Kihawahine changes her mind?"

"To the canoe!" said Huey, in high spirits once more with everything back in order.

"Canoe?" Gosalyn asked.

"Only way on and off," said Dewey.

She looked to Uncle Scrooge. "This is a point against rejoining Strike Team Omega."

Uncle Scrooge smiled. "Understood."

—…—…—…—…—…—…—…—

"You okay, Louie?" Uncle Donald asked, an overcoat and scarf in hand.

Louie blinked, returning to their Christmas cabin from his Hawai'ian memories. "Yeah," he said.

Uncle Donald's eyebrows drew together.

"Really, Uncle Donald. I'm okay."

Still looking skeptical, Uncle Donald zipped up his coat and wrapped the scarf around his neck. "I'm going to get José and Panchito from the airport. We can talk tonight."

Louie considered the offer.

Sure, Uncle Donald wanted to hear about Hawai'i.

But then Uncle Donald and Uncle Scrooge would fight. Mr. Mallard would also probably join in the argument and their Christmas retreat would be tainted with the memory of something that was long past.

Smiling, Louie said, "Thanks. I'll take you up on that if I need to. You want company getting Panchito and José?"

Donald returned the smile. "Get your coat."

'Someday,' thought Louie as he grabbed his winter wear and hurried after Uncle Donald. 'I'll tell him about Hawai'i.'

But not today.

Not during this trip.

The cabin retreat was about togetherness and Louie wanted to keep it that way.

Kihawahine is a real Hawaiian goddess. Her story, and King Kamehameha's, are fascinating and give some amazing insight into Hawaiian folklore and history. I recommend them highly!

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#darkwing duck #ducktales #geronimo series #season of light #louie duck #scrooge mcduck #huey duck #dewey duck #gosalyn mallard #kihawahine

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havendance · 7 years

Text

I just keep falling now that you’re gone

Summary:

After losing Marinette, Adrien will do anything to get her back, even becoming the very villain he once fought. When Papillion rises once again over Paris, Emma and Louis find a ring and a pair of earrings in their rooms they become the new Ladybug and Chat Noir. And so, Adrien fights his children, and Emma and Louis fight their Father. None of them know who their enemy really is.

read on fanfiction.net or ao3

This is really long. You have been warned

Quick info before you read. You can skip this if you want. In this world a friend reveal took place between Alya, Nino, Marinette, and Adrien, I’m not bringing Fox!Alya or Bee!Chloe in, and when Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Papillion, they retrieved his miraculous but failed to discover who he was.

Before they had kids, Adrien's greatest fear was that he would end up like his Father. Sure, he had other fears: losing the people he loved, dinosaurs (he had never gotten over that time Ladybug had jumped into the mouth of one), drowning (being Chat Noir had done nothing for that one), and he could never make it all the way through any of the horror movies that Marinette and Nino insisted on watching. But turning into his Father was the one that seemed the most real and threatening, as if one day he would just decide to hole up in his office and discover that whatever was going on in there was so much more important than spending time with his family.

So, when his and Marinette's first children were born, (Marinette had twins! Two little bundles of joy that never seemed to sleep or be quiet at the same time. Adrien had never before loved sleep as much as he did then.) he vowed to be the Father that he had always wanted to have. He attended school plays and soccer games, helped out with school projects and homework, and kissed away the skinned knees and other little boo-boos that came with the adventures of childhood.

And, over time, he very nearly forgot about the fear that had once seemed to be so real and dangerous.

Emma and Louis (and later little Hugo) were the lights of his life. Adrien couldn't see why his Father hadn't seen the joy that came with little children. How they laughed and cried and filled life with joy and wonder. But he didn't like to think about it much, there was no need to dwell on the past when the future looked so bright.

Adrien got a job that would allow him to work from home. Marinette was always rushing about what with one thing or another(She had achieved her dream of becoming a fashion designer, Adrien only wished that it didn’t make her so busy). So he stayed at home and cooked(he wasn't as good as Marinette, but he was getting better) and cleaned and looked after the kids. She had her dream job, and he had all the time in the world to spend with his kids. They were both happy and their life was as close to perfect as a life could get.

When they discovered that Marinette was expecting again, Adrien was overjoyed at first. But all too soon, joy turned to worry, and worry to all out fear when she diagnosed with cancer. It didn't seem to be real. How could Marinette, energetic, healthy Marinette, who never got sick have cancer? Adrien didn’t want to believe it. She could beat anything, he had seen her do it often enough.

And Marinette, Marinette had always been the brave one. She looked her doctors in the eye and told them that her baby was her number one priority and she was not going to sign up for any treatments that could potentially harm the little girl.

The doctors tried to talk her out of it. They tried to tell her that if she carried the child to term, treatments would likely be less effective and her chances of survival would go down. Way down. They told her that if she insisted on going through with this, it would kill her. She didn't budge an inch. She never budged an inch.

Adrien tried to talk her out of it. It didn’t change her mind. She wouldn’t listen to his pleas. The strong will and determination that he had always loved about her before, now became a source of heartbreak.

So Adrien stopped trying. What else was he supposed to do? He became the strong, supportive spouse. He tried to act like nothing was wrong, like it could get better, like he wasn't terrified and sad and happy all at once everytime that he talked to her, everytime he heard her laugh, everytime she showed him one of her designs. She never slowed down even when she was sick. It was just how she was.

He wanted to tell her to just get an abortion, that they could have other kids but there would never be another Marinette. He wanted to scream and shout and tell her that he didn't want her to die, that he would pay any price to keep her by his side. But it wouldn't do anything. Marinette had been a hero for far too long to stop now.

She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who the splitting image of her mother. Marinette refused to let anyone else hold little Marie, even as her condition rapidly deteriorated despite the best treatment the hospital could offer. In the end,Adrien could only watch as she slowly died despite the efforts of the doctors.

He was devastated.

Without Marinette, his life was grey where it had once been filled with color. The things that had once brought him joy with her by his side, now only brought sadness, painful reminders of what he had lost.

Friends brought meals and condolences. They told stories of their fond memories of her and wore the clothes that she had designed for them. They laughed and cried and remembered at the funeral. They didn’t know anything.

Casseroles wouldn’t bring his wife back, and the memories they shared were mere shadows of who she had been. Nothing could recreate the vivacity that she had had, the wonder and joy that she had brought to his life. The energy and magic that seemed to spread to anything she touched.

Adrien tolerated their well-meaning comments for a time, but eventually he asked them to leave. He needed time alone with his thoughts.

If only there was a way to bring her back.

The thought pervaded his mind. It creeped into every corner, growing like a weed, it’s long tendrils reaching into every corner of his mind. Just as all roads lead to Rome, all thoughts he had seemed to lead back to that one enduring point.

No. There was no use in thinking about things like that. It was impossible. No matter what he wished she was still dead. And death was irreversible.

Or was it?

He remembered something he had heard a long time ago: The ladybug and black cat miraculouses together could grant the power of a god. Would it be enough power to bring someone back from the dead? Was there a way for him to see Marinette again? To hear her teasing laugh and feel the warmth of her embrace?

If there was, Adrien was willing to pay any price.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Louis knew Emma was the responsible one, everyone knew. And, for the most part, he saw no reason to change that. His older sister (by 15 minutes, though sometimes he wished it was longer) was so much more competent than him. She could organize their family blindfolded. With one arm tied behind her back. Who was he to get in her way?

The two of them were like night and day. She had black hair that was always pulled back neatly in a ponytail and Papa’s green eyes. He had longish blond hair that was all shaggy and never seemed to cooperate with him and Maman’s blue eyes. She was organised and precise. She never turned in anything late, if Louis turned in anything on time, it was the exception, not the rule. He was of what Maman used to call an “artistic temperament”. He called it not paying attention to anything he didn’t care about and devoting all his time to things that did. He had claimed the role of family slack off early on in life and was loathe to give it up any time soon.

But now, Maman was dead, and Papa rarely showed up except for meals, and even then it wasn’t surprising if his chair was empty. Emma was starting to look very frazzled(which was never a good sign, even before she started running the house), and they couldn’t live on casseroles forever. If they did, Louis was going to be sick from casserole overdose. Probably sooner rather than later.

So, after a lot of intensive soul searching, he decided to try his hand at cooking. It couldn’t be that different from painting or sculpting, right? After all, you just mix together a bunch of ingredients, throw it in the oven, and all of a sudden you’ve got something delicious. Food was like art that you appreciated with your stomach instead of your eyes. And Louis was an artist. An artist who was going to be sick if he had to eat another casserole. Which was more than enough motivation for him to decide to actually do something around the house for once. He was not giving up his role as family slack off, his motivations were purely selfish.

Despite his self proclaimed role as a slack off, he wasn’t totally useless, despite what his friends might think. Everyone around him was treating him like he was made of glass, acting like he might break or burst into tears at any minute. Sure, his Maman was dead, and he was sad and all, but people died all the time, and life moved on. He just wasn’t going to think about how it wasn’t the same without her there to admire his art, or draw with him, or make cookies after a long day while he just talked and she just listened. Well, maybe he missed her a little, but it was just easier not to think about it.

Cooking. He was focusing on cooking. He was most definitely not moping around. Louis did not mope. He was a joker, a happy go lucky sort of guy, one who was in no way still mourning over his mother’s death, and one who was focusing on cooking.

As soon as he started looking around the kitchen, Louis realised he had a problem: what should he make? He hadn’t thought this far in advance. Well, it should definitely be something simple. Maybe… spaghetti? Spaghetti was easy enough, you just tossed some noodles into boiling water and dumped a jar of sauce over it. Simple.

After taking a quick inventory of the kitchen, Louis ran out the door and down to the supermarket to get some spaghetti sauce. He left the water boiling with the pasta in it.

He was never a very patient sort of fellow, so it would it just be easier if he killed two birds with one stone for the prep work.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Adrien looked down at the butterfly brooch in his hand. It seemed to small and innocent to have caused such terror and chaos in Paris more than twenty years ago. The last man who had last worn this brooch had been a villain. There was no denying that. To say that Adrien... disliked the reputation that the broach had developed, was an understatement. But it was the only miraculous that he could get his hands on. And, desperate times, called for desperate measures.

It was only temporary, he told himself, only until he could get his hands on the ladybug and black cat miraculouses and bring back Marinette. Then he would give it back. He wasn't going to keep it any longer than he had to. He couldn’t imagine wanting to keep it any longer than he had to.

He put on the brooch(it was so easy to do, why had he been delaying for so long?) and uttered the transformation phrase that Nooroo had told him. It was one of the few things that the kwami had seen fit to share after discovering that he was being misused once again (Nooroo's words, not his). Butterflies flew around him as the transformation took place. It was done in an instant. So much more efficient than Chat Noir’s had been.

Adrien looked out over the city through new eyes, trying to remember what little he knew about the butterfly miraculous and it's powers. Nooroo had clammed up surprisingly quickly, so Adrien had been left with only what little prior knowledge he had gained from being Chat Noir. He knew that the butterfly wielder could send out the akumas to create champions (or villains as the case may be), and he knew that the wielder could communicate telepathically with his champions. But he had no idea how to find a champion in the first place.

So, he did the only thing he could think to do. He trusted his instincts, sending out his mind to see through the eyes of hundreds of butterflies that roamed throughout the city. It felt as natural to him as breathing.

So this was how Papillion had seen Paris. He could see everything. Adrien wondered how their identities had never been discovered, if this was the view that his nemesis had seen everyday. People were beacons of emotion: joy, hate, anger, excitement, contentment, calm, nervousness, fear, all of them were calling out to him. He knew instinctively that only some would accept what he had to offer.

There. A man. He was different than the rest somehow. Practically glowing with ambition, doubt, anger and greed. Adrien could harness this. He could make this man into just the tool he needed to gain the miraculouses.

He sent out an akuma, watching through it's eyes as it soared above Paris and sank into something in the man's bag.

A link was established. All of sudden Adrien could feel this man. It was as if he had somehow stepped through a door and into this man's mind. He could the his hopes, dreams, ambitions, fears, and darkest secrets. He could see just the strings he needed to pull in order to get what he wanted.

It made him feel... guilty, for what he was about to do. But Marinette was worth it. She was worth anything and everything.

"Dowsing Rob. I can give you the power to find and take whatever you want." As soon as Adrien said this he knew that he could do it. It was an overwhelming power that he had access to."In exchange, I want you to... acquire something for me." He let the man see a memory: a ring and a pair of earring became crystal clear in both of their minds. "Do we have a deal?"

There was never any doubt as to what the answer would be.

"Yes, we do," Dousing Rob said as he transformed. Adrien watched as he cackled evilly and ran off, wreaking chaos on the city as he went.

It hurt a little, knowing he was responsible for destroying the very city that he had once fought so hard to protect. But it was only for a little while. Only until he got what he wanted. Then he'd stop. Then he'd make it better. He wasn't even doing that much damage compared to some of Papillon's champions. He was justified in what he was doing.

The end justified the means. It had to.

He had to make his family whole again.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Emma walked into the kitchen to discover that someone had left a pot boiling over on the stove. She quickly moved the pot off the heat, looked around at the mess in the kitchen and broke out in hysterical laughter. It was either that or cry. And at that moment, the last thing Emma wanted to do was cry.

She was holding a screaming baby (little Marie had colic) and was overwhelmed by housework. The kitchen she was standing in was quickly becoming another item on her to-do list, which was long enough as it was. She hadn’t taken a shower or gotten a decent night’s sleep in who knows how long. Emma was just trying to keep everything together. And failing, or, at least that’s what it felt like half the time.

The radio constantly yelling at her about some crazy person named Dowsing Rob who was running around doing who knows what and just causing general chaos was doing nothing really hoped that he wasn’t getting into too much trouble.

Long story short, crying was going to add nothing to the situation. If anything, it would make the whole thing worse worse.

Despite that, when Louis walked in a little while later, holding a jar of spaghetti sauce, Emma was leaning against the wall, holding little Marie (who was still crying), and half crying, half laughing herself. She couldn’t focus on the story that he was telling her. Something about a supervillain?

Eventually, her sanity returned. That didn’t mean that things made any more sense. Nothing was making any sense right now.

The two of them listened to the radio over Marie’s screams as they salvaged what they could of Louis’ spaghetti. Emma didn’t know what exactly to make of these “akumas” that were attacking Paris all of a sudden. They had learned about something similar in school, but a half remembered social studies unit was nothing compared to the craziness that was happening here and now. Maybe, she should’ve payed more attention to that unit, it didn’t seem very import at the time.

Fortunately for her sanity, Emma knew someone who did know what was going on.

Aunt Alya was considered to be one of the top experts on the akuma attacks that had happened decades ago, which was pretty impressive considering she had barely been a teenager at the time. (Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino weren’t really their aunt and uncle by blood, but the two of them had been close friends with her parents, so they were practically family in all the ways that really counted.) She was also willing to come over for dinner on a moment's notice, and bring pizza with her (which was a relief, since Louis’ food was more or less inedible).

With her whole family around the table (except Papa, but he was gone half the time anyways), Emma felt herself relaxing, in spite of the craziness going on in Paris right outside her door.

“I was around your age when the first akumas showed up,” Aunt Alya said enthusiastically. “The attacks only lasted for a few years, but they sure were an interesting few years.”

“They were interesting, as in that one ancient curse.” Uncle Nino chuckled and shook his head. “You should’ve seen her back then. She chased any akuma that showed up. Nearly got herself killed more than a few times.”

“Hey! Ladybug and Chat Noir saved me all of those times.” Aunt Alya crossed her arms and glared at Uncle Nino, the effect was ruined by the grin on her face.

“She chased those two around too.” Uncle Nino stage whispered to the rest of the table. “Always dragged me around with her. Right?” He elbowed her, smiling.

“You know you love me.” Aunt Alya gave him a playful kiss, ignoring Hugo blushing on the other end of the table. “We were such lovebirds back then, nearly as bad as Adrien and Marinette.” She gave a little smile.

“Maman and Papa were in love all the way back then?” Louis asked, eyes wide. He was such a romantic.

“Yeah, your Maman had the biggest crush on your Papa, she was obsessed with him. Our whole class had a pool going on, betting on when they’d get together,” Aunt Alya reminisced. “They’d always disappear during the akuma attacks. We all thought that they were taking advantage of the chaos to get some privacy.”

Uncle Nino nodded. “They always missed the coolest parts, like all the times that Ladybug and Chat Noir saved Alya,” he finished pointedly.

“Nino!” Aunt Alya glared at him before changing the subject. “Speaking of Ladybug and Chat Noir, I wonder if he’ll show up again. Maybe I’ll have to start up the Ladyblog again.”

“There’ll probably be a new pair of heros for you to chase, Alya. It’s been over twenty years, he’s probably retired or something.”

“Chat Noir might show,” she insisted. “He’s never been one to stray from a fight. He’s not bad, more than a little cocky in person, but he still gets the job done. He doesn’t hold a candle to Ladybug though, she’s the best.”

“You’ve met them?” Hugo asked, eyes wide.

“Sure have,” Aunt Alya bragged. “ I’ve interviewed them both too.”

“What’s Ladybug like?” Hugo asked, leaning forward. “She’s my favorite.”

Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino exchanged a glance so quick that Emma almost thought that she imagined it.

“Ladybug’s the best,” Aunt Alya said after hesitating for barely a heartbeat.

“Yeah, she’s really brave and smart,” Uncle Nino added.

“She told me some amazing stories during our interview.”

“She saved Jagged Stone once.”

“And she jumped into the mouth of a T-rex another time.” Aunt Alya gestured emphatically with her hands.

“She’s every bit as great as the stories.

“She’s better than the stories,” Uncle Nino corrected.

“Definitely.” Aunt Alya nodded in agreement.

After that, the conversation moved on to other subjects. Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino left after supper, Aunt Alya saying something about keeping an eye out for new developments. Uncle Nino just shook his head and winked at them over his shoulder, telling them to keep safe. Emma knew that he really didn’t mind Aunt Alya dragging him around, even though he made a big deal about.

Just knowing that this had happened before was comforting. Knowing that Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino were confident that everything would work out was even more so. Emma hoped that if Ladybug and Chat Noir were out there, they’d show up soon.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Louis wasn’t sure who had left the earrings on his bed. They were plain black and in a box that looked vaguely chinese in design. Maybe it was Maman’s, but if it was, it still didn’t explain how it had gotten there. Had Emma or Aunt Alya left it for him? Who cares, Louis thought they look cool enough. With that he tried them on.

He felt a surge of power coming from somewhere. That was definitely weird. Then there was this strange popping noise and suddenly a little red and black creature (Mouse? Hamster? Flying rodent?) appeared before him.

“Hi!” it said. “My name is Tikki. You have been chosen to wield the ladybug miraculous!”

Weird. Very, very weird. Louis did what anyone would do in this situation, he swatted at the thing and screamed. At least, he screamed until he remembered that Marie was a light sleeper and Emma would kill him if she woke up.

He stopped screaming. The thing apparently took this as a sign that he had accepted its presence and it immediately started talking about luck and kwamis or something like that made no sense, instead of saying anything that he would expect it to, like “Take me to your leader”(Louis watched a lot of science fiction movies).

Whatever it was, Louis wanted it out of his room. he slammed a basket over it and threw it out the window. There, it was finally gone.

Unfortunately, the thing just flew back in through the windows. How did it fly through the windows? This day just kept getting weirder and weirder. When had things stopped making sense? Louis decided that he needed a second opinion. He quickly slammed a jar over the thing (for some reason it stayed put this time) and went off to find Emma. She would know what to do. She always did.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Emma almost didn’t notice the ring. She was exhausted and worried, so it wasn’t until she sat down and felt a lump where there wasn’t before, that she noticed it. After she got up to see just what it was that she had sat on, she examined the box. It was red and black, and vaguely chinese in design. Had Uncle Nino or Aunt Alya left it there? Or was it Louis’ idea of a prank? If it was, it wasn’t very funny.

After staring at it for a while, she opened it. Inside was a plain silver ring, simple and elegant.

She almost didn’t put it on.

She almost closed up the box and ignored in favor of getting at least a little sleep before little Marie woke up again. But the idea of wearing it was vaguely appealing, almost as if the ring was calling to her.

That was stupid. Rings were inanimate objects, she must be going delirious from exhaustion.

But she put it on anyway.

And nearly flung it off again when a black creature came flying out, screaming “Foooooooood!”

“Shhh!” Emma hushed automatically. “Don’t wake the baby,” she said in an urgent whisper. As soon as the words left her mouth she realised that it sounded really kind of crazy. Some weird crazy demon thing shows up in her room and her first reaction was to tell it to shut up?

Regardless of whether she was sane or not, the creature ignored her, biting at random things in her room. Not that there was anything that he could fit down his gullet in the first place since she had put up all the choking hazards after little Marie was born.

“I must be hallucinating,” Emma thought out loud. She couldn’t think of any other possible explanation for what was happening.

“You’re not,” the thing said from wherever it was, she had lost track of it. “The name’s Plagg, kwami of destruction, I give you the power of bad luck and destruction. You can harness those powers by saying ‘claws out’. Capieche? Now, do you have anything to eat around here?”

“Claws out?” Nothing happened. She was most definitely hallucinating. It must of been the mushrooms on the pizza. Maybe they had put hallucinogenic mushrooms on the pizza by accident. That could happen, right?

“Say it like you mean it, kid. And there’s no way I’m transforming on an empty stomach. Got any camembert?”

“No, who carries around camembert?” This was making less and less sense the more time passed. Emma stared at the wall across from her. At least that made sense.

“My last wielder did. Hopefully you will too, I’m starving over here.”

Louis chose that moment to burst into her room clutching a jar in his hands.

“Emma, help me. There’s this weird talking bug-bird thing in my room, what do I do with it?” Louis asked her in a frantic rush. Emma just blinked a few times as he revealed a red and black creature that looked eerily similar to the black creature that was pestering her. Maybe they were both hallucinating. The idea was slightly comforting.

“Do you think those mushrooms on the were pizza hallucinogenic by any chance?” Emma hoped that his answer would be yes. It would make so much more sense than whatever was going on right now.

“No?” Louis tilted his head. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing,” Emma hurriedly answered. So all of this was really happening. What a shame.

“Hey, Tikki. Any luck with your chosen. I’m getting nowhere with mine,” the black creature called out.

“Plagg! You’re scaring yours!” the red creature scolded.

“You don’t look like you’re doing much better.”

The two started to bicker. Loudly.

“Quiet! Marie’s sleeping!” Emma urgently whispered yet again. “Let’s go downstairs to the kitchen to talk this out.” The last thing she wanted was for Marie to start screaming again.

“Finally, maybe you’ll actually have something to eat down there,” the black creature complained.

“Plagg, we have more important things to worry about than food!”

The two creatures started to argue again. Why couldn’t she just be a normal evening for once?

“Downstairs. Now,” Emma said in what Louis called her “Maman voice”. She was done with all of this.

They were quiet all the way down.

“So, what do you guys eat” Louis asked, breaking the silence when they finally arrived in the kitchen.

“Cookies, though any pastry will do.”

“Cheese. Primarily camembert.”

“We don’t have any camembert. We have a little reblochon,” Emma said.

“Fine, that will do for now. But you can’t expect me to perform well without camembert.”

“Plagg,” the red creature said in a warning tone.

“Fine, fine. I’m just saying, I’ve got standards.”

“Can someone just please explain what’s going on?” Emma asked, rubbing her forehead as Louis lay plates of food in front of the creatures.

“My name is Tikki,” The red creature said in between bites of cookie. “And this is Plagg.” She gestured to the black creature.

“Hey, I mentioned that!” Plagg said.

Tikki glared at him. “Plagg and I are kwamis, beings of great power. We can grant that power to our chosen wielder,” Tikki said between bites. “Currently the butterfly miraculous is being misused by someone who is causing these akumas to appear. You two were chosen to fight the akumas and take back the butterfly miraculous.”

“So we get to be the superheroes who fight the supervillain?” Louis asked. “Just like in the comic books?”

“Mmhmm,” Tikki nodded.

“Cool!”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Plagg muttered from his plate of cheese.

“Like Ladybug and Chat Noir?” Louis asked eagerly.

Tikki nodded. “Just like them. You two will be the new Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

This piqued Emma’s interest. “Tell me more.”

“Of course.” Tikki smiled.

The two teenagers sat spellbound as the kwamis explained everything.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Adrien urged on his champion. The man still hadn’t found the miraculouses and it was nearly midnight now. He had given the man the power he needed to succeed, why was he failing?

He reached out to the man’s mind to give it a shove in the right direction, only to discover that something had changed. His minion wasn’t focusing on finding the miraculouses, he was fighting something. Or someone. Possibly multiple someones. Who could it be? Who would be foolish enough to pick a fight with an akuma? Adrien needed to know more. He looked through his champion’s eyes.

When he first saw the ladybug, he thought it was Marinette back from the dead somehow. The hero moved with the same grace at the root of their movements, even if they lacked the skill that Marinette had developed over years of practice. He took a closer look

No. Upon further inspection, it clearly wasn’t his ladybug. This Ladybug was male. He was a child, no more than a boy. Who was this person who thought that he could take the place of Marinette? No one would be able to fill the shadow that she had cast as Ladybug.

This new hero was to flamboyant, to showy. His costume was flashier than Marinette’s simple one. It looked more like the costume of a rogue from a period romance drama that of a of a hero.He wasn’t even a tenth of the Ladybug that Marinette had been. He had a gun for heaven’s sakes. What sort of ladybug wielded a gun? How was he supposed to fight with that?

There was another Chat Noir as well, but she was inconsequential. She didn’t make his blood boil with her very existence like this new Ladybug did.

The two of them were children, they didn’t stand a chance, Adrien thought, pushing back the little part telling him that he and Marinette had only been children when they had first started. But that was different. Sure, they had been bumbling teenagers at first, struggling to find their footing. But nobody had known what was going on. Not even Papillion. Everyone had been figuring stuff out, bit by bit.

This time, Adrien had the advantage. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

He had to get their miraculouses. It was the only way. But taking jewels from heroes would be a whole lot harder than taking them from boxes in the possession of an old who was on the verge of dieing anyway. And if they were the heroes, that meant that he was a villain, at least in the eyes of the public. He probably should've thought of that sooner, but there were more important things on his mind then.

Adrien was not a villain by nature. But he would do anything to bring her back, and if that meant filling a role that was so contrary to his nature, so be it. It was only for a little while anyway. Only until he got the miraculouses.

Only until he could make things right.

Only until everything went back to normal.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Alya was psyched. There was a new Ladybug and Chat Noir and she was in the middle of it, just like she always was. This wasn’t like last time. Last time she had been young, inexperienced and impulsive. Now, she was one of the experts on Ladybug and Chat Noir and a professional reporter to boot. There was no way she was letting this opportunity get away.

Alya had been the first to see the two of them fighting over Paris. She had been the first on the scene to record and share with the world just what it was that was going on. Just like last time. When she really thought about it, not much had changed, really.

It was clear that these new heroes were still young and learning. They didn’t have the ease or skill that the last two had had. That would come with time. This Ladybug remembered to purify the akuma. He had learned from his predecessor's mistakes. Marinette would be proud if she could see her legacy being carried on.

They introduced themselves as the new Ladybug and Chat Noir before disappearing into the night, leaving as just as many questions as they had answered.

It was neat seeing how the new generation of heroes looked so different from the first. Ladybug had a dramatic cape and a mask that looked like a pirate's bandana. He almost looked like a rakish hero, the effect was only ruined by the red with black spots that seemed to come with the territory. Chat Noir on the other hand, had a much simpler outfit. It was reminiscent of Adrien’s costume, only this one had a very short poncho-ish cape, and this hero wielded a pair of daggers instead of a staff.

This was definitely the most exciting thing that had happened in a long time. Alya wanted to learn everything she could about what was going on.

She’d have to ask Adrien if he knew anything about these new heroes. He and Marinette claimed that they had given up their powers after defeating Papillion and taking his miraculous, but he couldn’t be completely ignorant could he?

Alya had so many questions that wanted answering. Was Papillion back? She thought had thought that the villain had disappeared for good after Ladybug and Chat Noir had defeated him the first time. If not, who was this new villain? What were they after? What were these new heroes like? There was so much to learn and so little time.

It Alya’s job to get answers, and there was no way anything was going to change now. Not when things needed knowing the most.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Louis loved the feeling of confidence and freedom that came with transforming into Ladybug. He could be just like those dashing rogues in books that were always rescuing swooning maidens and swinging about on conveniently placed vines or ropes.

He loved running across the rooftops with inhuman speed and skill. (He wished he could fly, but Tikki said that power would come with time.) He loved the feeling of pride that came with saving his home every day. He loved the euphoric feeling he got whenever he used Miraculous Ladybug.

He loved nearly everything about being Ladybug. The only thing he didn’t love, was that he was supposed to lead.

Louis couldn’t lead. He’s always been that one guy who slacked off in group projects and let the others do all the work. Emma had always the leader. She was good at it. But now, Emma was looking to him for plans since he was the one with the magical power that gave him whatever he needed to win.

Tikki told him that as a Ladybug he would be creative, charismatic, confident, lucky, and a natural leader. Sure, he was definitely creative and he had a lot of friends (did that make him charismatic?). People told him that he was confident (whenever he actually did something, which was rare). But a natural leader? That was hard to swallow.

Yet, surprisingly, he found that this whole hero thing was coming easily to him. Emma took the lead around the house, since Papa was showing up less and less, but on the battlefield, Louis took the lead. Things seemed simple there. It was like the videogames that Hugo played, or the adventure novels he read, only in real life. Strategies and plans just popped into his head. And they worked. (No one was more surprised than him the first time that happened.)

So, to explore this new leader aspect of himself, Louis decided that he should go and ask Papa about the first time that the akumas attacked Paris. Papa had been right in the thick of it after all, nearly all of his classmates had gotten akumatised at one point or another. When Louis first heard that, he had thought that it was one crazy coincidence. Surely he would know something that would make his job at least a little easier. He’d ask Tikki, but the kwami seemed to be sworn to secrecy on the matters of past wielders, even (or especially) the ones from only a generation ago.

It was hard to get a chance to talk to Papa. Nowadays, it felt like he only showed up at home to eat and sleep and sometimes he didn’t even do that. Louis wasn’t sure if that was because Papa felt that his work was just a lot more important, or because he was hiding from responsibilities. Eventually though, he found his chance to make his move.

“Papa,” Louis asked. “What was it like the first time Papillion attacked Paris?”

“The first time?” Papa made a strange face.

“Yeah, when you and Maman were younger. What were the akumas like?” Louis knew all about Ladybug and Chat Noir, everyone knew about them. They always learned about the heroes in school, never the villains, mainly because the victims were normal, everyday people who didn’t deserve to be remembered only for the one bad day that they had. That’s what they were taught at least.

“That was the only time Papillion attacked.”

“Everyone’s saying that he’s come back.” Who else could it be?

“We don’t know that for sure.” Papa’s tone was shorter than it usually was.

Louis shrugged. “We don’t know much of anything. So, could you tell me what the akumas were like.” He hoped that Papa would stop changing the subject.

“They were … all over the place.” Papa stared off into the distance, seeing something that Louis would probably never see for himself. “Some were crazy, others dangerous, and quite a few made no sense whatsoever.”

“Not much has changed, huh?” That sounded like what was going on right now. Maybe having crazy opponents just came with the territory.

Papa nodded. “Be careful. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

“Ladybug always heals everything.” That was his job after all.

“He might not always be there.” Papa stared off into space for a bit before raising his newspaper back up. Sensing that the conversation was over, Louis wandered off.

He hadn’t learned much, but at least he had learned something. Some of the things that Papa had said didn’t make any sense.

The only reason he wouldn’t show up was if he lost his earrings to Papillion. Or if he was sick or something. But most people didn’t talk about that happening. Everyone just assumed that they would win. Papa on the other hand had acted like it was only a matter of time before he lost a fight. But the old Ladybug had never lost a fight. Why would he?

It just didn’t make sense. But not a lot of things made sense anymore. Louis was discovering that unfortunately, that was just how life worked.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

They were calling him Papillion returned. They were saying that Ladybug and Chat Noir hadn’t done their job right the first time. They were wrong. He and Marinette had done nothing wrong the first time. They had just been a little too late to discover just who their opponent was, that’s all.

It stung to be called the very villain that he worked so hard to stop. It hurt to be compared to a man who he hated. But that was just all the more reason to get this job done quickly. He couldn’t let the ignorant words of people who didn’t know any better distract him from his goal. They didn’t know the whole story.

Marinette. Marinette was worth everything that he was doing. All he needed were the ring and earrings. He would just be reclaiming what had once been theirs. Once he got it, he could make his family whole again. He needed her. He needed things to return to normal soon.

Adrien sent his mind through his butterflies in Paris, watching, waiting, searching for an opportunity. There. He found one.

“Hello Matchrimony, I have a proposal for you.”

Maybe this woman would be the one to succeed.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Emma collapsed on her bed, completely worn out. Learning how to balance school, home, and superheroing was hard and exhausting. Papillion was sending out akumas every day. Today had been no exception. At least Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino could look after Marie while she was at school. That was one less thing to worry about.

Papa was absent yet again. She worried about him during the akuma attacks sometimes, if she had time to worry about that sort of thing, which wasn’t very often in the heat of battle. She had no idea where he worked (now that she thought about it, that was unusual, but the topic had just never come up), so there was no way to figure out how much the chaos was affecting him. For all Emma knew, he could work in an underground bunker, and that was the reason why he didn’t seem to notice that the akuma attacks were becoming more and more frequent. And more and more dangerous.

Emma missed her old Papa. The one who was always hanging about the house, ready with a pun or joke, and always willing to help with homework. But that Papa seemed to be banished to the same golden memories that Maman lived in. Now, Emma was the one taking Maman and Papa’s place. She was the one helping with homework and teasing and comforting Hugo when she got the chance. Which wasn’t very often with how busy she was. She wasn’t sure if she could fill such big shoes.

All she wanted to do was sleep. But noise permeated every inch of the house leaving no place for Emma to explore her newfound love of naps. Plagg yelled at her, asking for cheese, the radio yelled with the constant panicked chatter which had ingrained itself in Paris, Marie just plain yelled with lungs that seemed too big for her body.

Emma cursed Papillion, whoever he was, for making such a mess of her life.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Hugo hadn’t meant to get caught in the latest akuma attack. He had just wanted to go over to Clement’s house and play Ultimate Mecha Strike VI with him. Now, instead of joking with his friend while playing video games, he was running away from the onslaught of Paris’ latest monster.

It wasn’t fun.

He looked back. Oh shit. The monster was coming his way. Oh shit.

Where were Ladybug and Chat Noire when you needed them? Panzerman was looking right at him and he was pointing that big gun in his direction.

Oh shit, oh shit.

He was going to die, and even though Ladybug brought back anyone who died, he didn’t want to experience that any time soon.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shitohshitohshit, oh shit?

Hugo’s panicked thoughts abruptly stopped as a a butterfly mask appeared over the akuma’s face and Panzerman turned away. What was that all about? Nothing like that had ever happened before. By all accounts, he should be nothing more than a smear on the pavement right now. So just what had happened? Not that he was upset, just confused. He was as glad to be alive as the next parisian, at least the ones who were still alive that was.

He was still mulling over what had happened a few minutes later when Ladybug and Chat Noir showed up (finally), and got him to safety.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

His son, his son, had almost gotten hurt. What was Hugo doing out there? Why hadn’t the boy been more careful? If Adrien hadn’t been able to stop the akuma in the nick of time, his son could’ve been killed.

He needed them to be safe. He couldn’t have his children dieing because of him. Even if Ladybug could bring back the dead now, there would come a day when he wouldn’t be able to.

Adrien needed to keep a closer eye on his children, even if that meant it would be longer until he got what he wanted. He had to make sure that they wouldn’t get hurt.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

When Papa started to be more worried after Hugo’s close call, Emma was hopeful that he would start to show more interest in other aspects of their life, like keeping house, for example. She was tired of taking care of everything by herself.

Unfortunately, it didn’t actually work out that way. It just became harder to sneak out and do her job as Chat Noir.

Papa wanted to know where they were at all times. He wanted them to communicate their locations to him even when he was at work, and he instituted a way stricter curfew. Emma wanted to tell herself that he was just being paranoid, but she knew that he had a point with akuma attacks happening so often. She didn’t know whether to feel happy that he was actually paying attention and caring about what was happening, or to feel because she couldn’t save Paris if she couldn’t get out of the house. It was all just strangely frustrating.

Plagg was always encouraging her to relax more and take less upon herself, which was all fine and dandy when she was Chat Noir, but when she was Emma, too much was resting on her shoulders. She didn’t have time to take time off when there was so much resting on her shoulders. Little bits of Chat Noir did make their way into her life regardless.

She found that it was more natural to take a supporting role in class projects instead of taking control like she usually did. She was making more jokes (Plagg was rubbing off on her with those horrible puns) and laughing more. She also started taking a lot more naps. Naps were a wonderful treasure in her hectic world. How had she not noticed them before now?

It wasn’t that she had stopped being Emma, she had just changed and become someone new and a little different. And, maybe, she liked this new Chat-Emma just a little better than what she had been before.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Louis was all but banging his head against his desk when trying to figure out his physics homework when he heard a loud crash from Emma’s room next door. Glad for a distraction of any sort, he hurried in, finding Chat Noir standing over the broken remains of her science project. The ring on her finger gave a warning beep.

“You cataclysmed your project?” Louis asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Emma said softly. “It wasn’t cooperating.”

“That doesn’t mean that you should destroy it, now you’ll have to start all over again.” This entire experience felt surreal, Louis wasn’t supposed to be the voice of reason. That was usually Emma’s job, yet here they were, the tables turned.

Emma gave a wry laugh. “It sure felt good, though.”

Louis could understand that. He could name quite a few times when he had wanted to do something like that.

“Shouldn’t you, you know,” he shrugged and gestured to her costume.

Emma noded. “I should.” She looked down at her costume as if seeing it for the first time. “Claws in.” They both ignored Plagg as he popped out and started grumping about in the background.

“So what were you supposed do for this anyway?” Louis moved over to her desk and started looking through the papers on it. They had different teachers for science.

“We’re building trebuchets.”

“I don’t know much, but I can try to help. And who knows,” Louis winked, “Maybe all you need is a little luck.”

Emma gave a laugh, a real one this time. “Maybe.”

“This was always the sort of thing that Papa loved to help with,” Louis said as he swept the barely recognisable collection of broken parts into the trash can.

“Yeah, I’d ask him for help, but he’s never around anymore.” Emma said wistfully.

“Uh huh.” Sometimes it felt like they had lost both parents, and not just Mama. But Louis didn’t like to dwell on those sort of thoughts. He would much rather live life in the present, not the past. “So, what do you need help with?” he asked cheerfully, trying to change the subject.

Louis spent that evening helping Emma fix her project. It was strange how being Chat Noir and Ladybug was changing them. Emma never would’ve done anything like this without Plagg’s influence (Louis was pretty sure that destroying the trebuchet had been his idea). And if she had, Louis probably wouldn’t have stepped in to help her. Tikki hadn’t even needed to be the little voice of reason in his head this time.

Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino had just told him the other day that he was finally stepping up and acting responsibly. His friends and teachers were making similar observations more and more often. (They were more than a little surprised at his newfound tendency to take the lead.) Even Hugo looked up from whatever video game he was playing to to mention that Lois wasn’t nearly as much fun as he used to be. (Louis wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.) He could only guess that similar things were happening to Emma.

Papa didn’t act like he noticed anything was different. But they rarely saw Papa anymore, let alone spoke to him. Louis honestly wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Papa lived at wherever it was that he worked.

Louis wondered if Papa even noticed that his children were changing at all.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Adrien hoped that he could overwhelm Ladybug and Chat Noir, but they fought and defeated every akuma he sent at them with ease. They were young, no older than he or Marinette had been (what was with the guardian and choosing children to be heroes?) but they learned so quickly, always gaining the upper hand, no matter what cards he held. Those children, his nemeses, were preventing him from gaining the power he needed.

They thwarted every move he made. They destroyed any attempt he made to intimidate Paris or to turn the city against them. They saved the day again and again and again, never failing to solidify their position as heroes in the eyes of the public.

They couldn’t keep winning forever. He had to succeed in his mission. He had to. He refused to give up, to admit defeat, to let these children come between him and his goal. Their miraculouses would be his. They had to be.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Emma cursed her bad luck. Of all the days for there to be an attack, Papillion had to choose their birthday. Couldn’t the man take a break for once? Admittedly, there were akuma attacks every day, sometimes more than once, but a girl could still hope. It wasn’t that they had anything special going on in the first place, but it was the idea of the whole thing that she found insulting. Louis didn’t seem to mind to much, but nothing really bother Louis. Sometimes Emma wished that she could have his level of nonchalance.

They defeated the akuma quickly, but the annoyance lingered throughout the day.

Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino threw them a little birthday dinner party. It was just family, but Papa didn’t even show up. They had cake and presents, and stayed up late watching a cheesy movie, but without Papa there, it felt like they were just going through the motions.

Papa never showed up anymore. He had forgotten about her birthday. He had never forgotten something like this before. If grief was what did this to him, Emma hated grief. She hated the thing that had taken two parents from her when death had only taken one. She hated it.

That night, sitting on the rooftops with Louis, Emma looked up at the stars and promised that she would never let grief turn her into something she wasn’t.

Grief might’ve conquered Papa, but it would never conquer her. She was a superhero afterall.

AN: So… Angst, anyone? I’m currently undecided on whether or not Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth/Papillion, so in this AU, we have no idea who Papillion/Hawkmoth is. Anyway, in this fic I wanted to explore the idea that maybe Adrien isn’t the complete antithesis of his Father and maybe he just needed a push in the right direction to become like him. Now, I’m not saying that I think that Adrien is going to turn into the two (maybe one) men that he hates the most when Marinette dies. I’m just exploring possibilities.

I also wanted to explore the ideas of second-generation Ladybug and Chat Noir, namely Emma and Louis. Sorry, Hugo and Marie didn’t really play a big role in this story, so we don’t get to know them as well. Also, I happen to be a sucker for DjWifi if you couldn’t tell.

I hope you enjoyed the read. I have some sketches of Emma and Louis and their superhero forms which I’m going to post eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later.

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perfect-corroscience · 5 years

Text

20. Radio tower? What’s going on with that radio tower? (Sub Route, Sundarbans)

(Sundarbans is peaceful… but we can’t stay here hoping the civil war will end. The radio tower is the other notable spot, where people see some odd things inside and get ominous vibes from it. Naturally, that’s where we have to go.)

(It’s a good idea to make sure you’re stocked up on items, because once you get inside and take a couple steps, the door shuts on you, locking you inside until you clear the area.)

Steel: …Seems to be jammed shut by force. I sense that this building is filled with enemy Stand users. Defeating them will probably be the only way to escape. Proceed carefully, and don’t overwrite your last save!

(The first floor is safe, but talking to the staff here gives us an idea of where we might find whoever’s locked the party in. Boy, would we sure feel silly if we got locked in and we couldn’t find any Stand users around.)

(This is another reason why it’s good to be stocked up: you can’t get any items here.)

(On the next couple of floors are these lil guys.

They’re sentient, in what I’d like to pretend is undoubtedly a cute nod to some of Earthbound/Mother’s interesting enemies. At only 50HP, they’re more a nuisance. The only real notable thing they can do is sometimes unleash energy to hit you, eliminating themselves in the process.)

(From time to time, the ceiling will crumble and drop rubble on the party, damaging them. Keep an eye out on everyone’s health.)

Young woman: Apparently, he struggled with all his might just to save himself and that little girl over there… Where is the military in all this?

(Thankfully, the dustbins don’t follow you into rooms. Anyhow, there’s a couple NPCs here we can chat up, and we’ll be revisiting this area in particular.)

(On the third floor, we get this message and a status effect. You’ll walk with halved speed and lose 1 HP/SP every three steps. Again, just keep an eye out.)

(Cute.)

(Luckily, right on this floor we can do something about this exhaustion. Just head over here and talk to this guy. Just make sure you’re not too low on health.)

Deja Voodoo: This is for people in my department only. No buts. Not even if you’re the high-and-mighty department head that laid me off… Or the section head that pushed all the work onto me and took the credit… Or the chief clerk that took away my paycheck…

Emi: !? A Stand user!?

Deja Voodoo: But appearances can be deceiving! I’ve awakened my Stand power… It’s gonna make me rich! I’ll make you grovel at my feet and beg for mercy!

(Despite all that, at 300HP he’s not too bad, especially when you have a powerhouse like Stroheim. The only real thing to look out for is having abilities that makes you Tired (in-battle your speed is lowered and you lose 5% of your HP/SP each turn) and skips some turns.)

(Once he’s beat, the Tired status is cured and we can move on.)

(You can buy rations (200G) from this room’s vending machine, but then again, if you’re prepped, you might not need to.)

(If we talk to this guy after beating DJ Voodoo, we can initiate another little mini-sidequest.)

Businessman: Huh? You want a chocolate bar? …Sure, but you should give some to that refugee girl. It’s a shame to see her so unhappy.

The girl is crying silently. Give her the chocolate bar?

(Back on the second floor, we can talk to the little girl and get this prompt. And when we say yes…)

(Hang on a second. I need to get a dead meme out of the system…

There we go. That’d be better off in my Pokemon Sweet nuzlocke, anyway.)

Sevendust: I’m the Stand that’s controlling this girl’s mind! Since she’s just a little kid, she’s not that strong… But that’s where I come in! I’ll take revenge on the world that let her parents die! But I need more energy, damn it! Something to boost her brainpower… Like sugar! That chocolate bar’ll do the trick!

Emi: Then the user of that weird Stand we’ve been seeing is…

Sevendust: You got that right! I created these trash-like monsters! They’re a part of me! Garbage! Tossed aside by the world, just like her family! And you’ll end up the same way after I wear you out with my army! I’ll turn you into rubble!

Emi: (Not only can this girl not control her Stand, it’s the other way around! I have to do something without hurting her!)

(So, as Emi and the game says, we have to beat the Stand without taking Alice out. Stroheim/Speedwagon (or Galahad/Miriam) automatically start off with the Hold Back status. They won’t hold back forever. This isn’t necessarily a good thing, since Alice, being a kid, is incredibly frail – in fact, she has the same amount of HP as the dustbins.

Sevendust, on the other hand, is trickier. For starters, it has a whopping 99,999 HP. It can’t really hurt you, but not a lot of attacks can do much to it, either. It having Laugh can be irritating. If you go berserk, good chance you’ll take Alice out if your allies don’t.

Nevermind that we’re all trying to keep her unharmed; it’s not as if you can tell your party members to focus on Sevendust and the mooks. If Stroheim’s AI decides firing his bazooka at the kid is a great idea, then by god is he going to.

The best way to deal with it is to inflict it with some status effects that take away a % of its health each turn – the Specials can do this, the Bleeding status effect (lose (20% of HP + 5) each turn) is especially useful. It’s probably not a bad idea either to come into this fight with your allies KO’d so they can’t interfere, and equip something with berserk resistance.

In lieu of that, Brainstorm is there to get you out of a pinch. Anyone doing this route for the first time and not on NG+ will probably have to rely on this. Still, if you manage to take it out, you won’t get any exp/cash for it, but you do get a Badge of Honor. If you can reliably beat Sevendust, not a bad way to get one if you’re on the Sub Route.)

Speedwagon: Hey! Stand user or no, she’s just a child! Don’t even think about it!

Stroheim: Heh… Don’t underestimate the power of German military technology! German science is the best in the woooooorld!! There’s nothing it can’t dooooo!!

(It sure is a good thing all these other NPCs are just staring off into space while we fought a kid and dosed her with anaesthesia.)

Speedwagon: Phew… That was a close one! But is she gonna be okay?

Stroheim: No need to fear! We use this gas for all our experiments!

Emi: Best in the world, huh?

Stroheim: I-impossible!

Emi: ! You mean you don’t remember?

Alice: You mean just a second ago? I… I can’t remember at all…

Stroheim: I don’t get a menacing vibe from her anymore…

Speedwagon: …The shock of this horrible war must’ve awakened the Stand inside her heart.

Stroheim: Well, we don’t need this chocolate anymore. I’ll give it to her.

Alice: T-thank you! …Here, why don’t you have this as a thank you? I don’t really remember where I got it.

(We nab a Sunlight Remedy for doing this. I’ll elaborate on it more later, but in a nutshell it’s a stat booster. If the boss of this area is beat before you attempt this, you won’t be able to do this event, even if you picked up the chocolate bar earlier. You’ll even get a point of bad karma for leaving Sundarbans with it!

I don’t see why anyone wouldn’t want to do this event, though. It gets rid of the trashcans and the randomly crumbling ceiling.)

(We’ll check that room out soon.)

(Back to the third floor, there’s two potential stairs to the fourth floor. This one doesn’t lead anywhere, but we get a cute reference.)

(You can get 5 Ripple-Infused Wines and 5 Overdrive SYs in these chests – or at least you would be able to except, for some reason, if while back in Singapore you decided to loot your buddies’ item boxes, these will already be empty. Same goes for some of the boxes you could find in the warzone.)

(Up on the fourth floor, there are zombies and half-zombies. The latter can be differentiated on the overworld because they move faster than regular ones. You’re likely to fight a few on the way to the boss – for me, Speedwagon hit level 25 and learnt Dynamite.

(At the end, we run into the two behind this. So, I hope someone has filed away “Vins has access to zombies” into the mental rolodex, because that’s a hell of an important detail!)

Raul: ...Well, depends on why you ask.

DJ Inc: To tell you the truth, we've just joined the club, so we don't know too much ourselves.

Emi: Upside-down?

Raul: …I’m really just in it to see the terrified looks on the soldiers’ faces when they die.

(Keep this lil detail in mind too.)

DJ Inc: And I wanna use my power to rule the world… Dream big, I always say!

Emi: …What a load of nonsense.

DJ Inc: You think we’re crazy, huh? Well, crazy or no, this war isn’t stopping as long as we’re around!

Emi: !!

DJ Inc: Because of it, he saw some of the rotten things humans are capable of… Atrocities of war, for example… And fell into despair.

DJ Inc: Not good for much besides picking up chicks, but combined with this guy's ability, it really starts to shine! Using his Stand... I can send orders through the radio waves! Nothing too detailed will go through, but “massacre each other” seemed to do the trick... When the President tries to use the radio to make a declaration about the war, I'll brainwash him too! I won’t have you guys interrupt my grand designs for something as inconsequential as getting aboard a plane.

Speedwagon: W-what a twisted bunch...

Stroheim: ...Bastards!! Do you know nothing about a soldier's pride!?

DJ Inc: Heh... better this than to have their lives selfishly thrown away to fight for the government, don't you think? ...But let's put that aside for now. I've already decided on my next objective.

Emi: And that is?

DJ Inc: My next order of business... is to brainwash you all and to make you into my pawns!

Stroheim: W-what's with that creepy lump of meat!?

Emi: ! That's not a Stand at all! It's really just meat!

Raul: This meatball helps Lipps' ability interfere with the five senses that're essential for human communication. Signals that start from the brain, then go to the eyes, nose, ears and mouth... I can send all kinds of signals to the battlefield, which is full of people who are bound to die anyhow.

Speedwagon: You're rotten to the core!

Emi: So that means if I attack you, those people will feel it too? That means I'll have to crush you both in one blow!

(Inc briefly channels the spirit of Xehanort and shrouds the party in darkness. I couldn’t nab a screencap, but there’s a brief mist effect.)

Emi: !? M-my eyes!

DJ Inc: Think you're gonna beat us that easy?

(The fight starts with everyone in Darkness. Together Inc and Raul – henceforth abbreviated to R&I/vice-versa – have 500 HP, while the meatsack behind them is meatier (sorry!) at 1000 HP. Despite Emi’s promise to one-shot these guys, it’s just not happening.

The main annoyance of this battle is that Meatloaf, given what it can do in combination with R&I’s Stands, can fuck with the party and inflict a TON of status effects. This is an irritating one.

R&I can nail you with machine gun fire, shown above, and rest out of sight to recover a bit. It’s easier to take them out since they’re weaker, but of course there’s no guarantee your partners will target them.

This is the major attack to look out for: this can inflict many status effects, but of note is Stun Senses. This status drops your accuracy by 95% and halves all your stats. It usually lasts at least 3 or so turns, though anyone afflicted has a low chance of recovering. Yeah – it’s pretty nasty!

Thankfully once R&I are beaten, the meatsack drops too. We even get more stat boosters for our efforts.)

Raul: I-I can't believe they defeated my Stand so easily... what power!

Inc: *cough* *hack* ...We'd better split up for now!

Emi: ! ...You won't get away that easily!

DJ Inc: What are you, stupid!? If I was planning on running, I wouldn’t have waited at this dead end!

Raul: I imagine we’ll meet again soon. When that time comes, I’ll bring an end to this once and for all…

(The duo live on to fight another day.)

Emi: ...They got away.... But at least the fighting should stop for now. The planes might begin to fly again, too.

(We know where to go. But before that,

let’s read some backstory.)

Inc’s letter: "What's more, the leaders of the guerillas responsible were secretly in cahoots with the military. This war is all business. They have no intention of helping anyone. According to Raul, those rotten soldiers got it in their head that it was a village of guerillas, giving them free reign to kill without remorse and have their way with the girls... Bastards!

But things aren't gonna go the way they want them to from now on… With our powers, Raul and I will crush all those with ties to the military. We’ll use the Slaves to Fate to our advantage…”

(There’s a lot of letters that give some more insight into the pair, particularly Inc.)

(If we go back to the second floor, the greenroom above the NPC who mentioned it is now open, letting us read more of Inc’s letters/journal entries.)

Inc’s letter: "She can't control it yet... at this rate, it might take over her mind completely. There's not much I can do. For now, she can only control trash cans in the radio station and unleash energy.

Those Slaves to Fate know all about us and our Stands. I want to turn them down, but if I do, they might attempt to eliminate me... I can't let anything happen to Alice.

If I play my cards right, I might be able to use the organization for my own gains and wipe out those damned soldiers. Raul and I will work with them for now.”

(Man does this whole forming an enemy mine with some mysterious omniscient strangers and wanting to use them to accomplish your own thing ever work out for anyone?)

Second leftmost - 0 Month # Day:

(Right… so Voodoo turned out to be a guy who went postal on his shitty superiors and we’ve got a lady running around who understands the world in a meta-sort of way and whose Stand power is “make zombies”. It’s a good thing they’re not super resilient or else we’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble.)

2nd rightmost - % Month N Day:

Inc’s letter: “With them gone, I can go to the headquarters and gather some intel about the other members. If I know their Stand abilities, I'll have a huge advantage against them.”

Rightmost: Y month X Day:

Inc’s letter: “I doubt they’ll make it out of the warzone in the mountains, but if they do reach the town, we’re in trouble. Better find a way to deal with them…”

(Well, we’ve seen how that works out.)

(With some items and such, we can now head off…)

Emi and her companions boarded a Speedwagon Foundation plane bound for Saudi Arabia! And so, the group paid a visit to Charlie Rich, an Arabian multimillionaire.

(If you haven’t lollygagged around, it’ll be day 18 when you get here.)

(We even get a little save prompt. It’s a little different. I’m sure if the software could do so it’d probably have that highly recommended bolded and coloured. Listen to it!)

Emi: Really? Thank goodness! We've been on a wild goose chase trying to get one.

Charlie: Wow, is that so? There are so many wealthy people here that I'd think anybody could hook you up with one!

Speedwagon: Well, for some reason, some very rich person has bought up all the submarines in the area.

Stroheim: I'll bet anything that's the work of one of Dio's underlings!

Charlie: Dio?

Emi: E-er, nothing you need to know!

Charlie: ?

Emi: ... *ahem*! How much are you asking for it?

Charlie: Oh, no, no, no! I can’t possibly take your money! I’m so rich that any more would be a burden!

Emi: Oh, but... We really need a submarine.

Charlie: Of course! That's why I'm giving it to you!

Emi: What!?

Charlie: I have a submarine below the mansion. Feel free to use it.

Speedwagon: Woooah! You're so generous! Thank you so much, benevolent sir!

(Stroheim don’t jinx this shit! Let’s just count our blessings and meet up with Jotaro and co. We’re less than 20 days into our journey. The sooner we can meet up, the better.)

Charlie: Oh no, I don't mind at all! I don't get much use out of it. It was a bit of an impulse purchase. It's yours... if you can find it.

Emi: !? ...What do you mean?

Charlie: Exactly what you think it does. It's just a rich man's way of passing the time.

(Side note: music gets all menacing here.)

Charlie: Once you get it, you're free to do whatever you like with it. Unfortunately, it won't be that easy... Try not to fall into any traps. Heh.

Speedwagon: ...Mr. Charlie. I’m sorry, but we’re quite strapped for time. We need a submarine right away.

Charlie: Hmm, that IS a problem... Better hurry up and find it, then!

Stroheim: Who do you think you are!? We have no time to play around with you! Tell us how much you want for it!

Charlie: Then shouldn't you get going? I told you, I don't intend to sell it.

Charlie: Oh my, a violent one, aren't we? Unfortunately, threats won't get you anywhere.

Stroheim: What!?

Charlie: Heh. Because I'm no ordinary-

*cracking sounds*

(Dude meets an inglorious end via being crushed by a rock. Not even doing it to save someone else.

Rock falls, 1%er dies? Sure, I’ll take it. We are still lacking in a submarine and need to go look for it. But that problem is going to take a wee bit of a shift to the side as there’s something more pressing…)

(Meet Rolling Stone, the bane of many a person playing through this route. For the duration of our stay in this mansion, Emi and crew are going to be dogged by this boulder that will kill them if it so much as brushes up against her.

Despite having six bodyguards and a German cyborg with us, the boulder is too strong. It doesn’t force us into an unwinnable battle and make us futilely fight back. Rolling Stone doesn’t waste time with little things like that. Instead it just straight up crushes the team and sends you right to the Incapacitated game over screen.)

(As soon as that info screen is gone, it starts chasing you. Nope. Flee upwards. bye)

(We end up in a bar. And look who it is!)

Hol Horse: *turns to face Emi* ! A-a-another one! Stay away or my Emperor will turn you into Swiss cheese!!

Emi: !? Are you... Hol Horse!?

Hol Horse: ! What? How do the zombies know my name?

Emi: ? ...You seriously don't remember? (Not that I have a problem with that....)

Hol Horse: I-I knew you were a zombie! I killed you already!

Emi: Darn, I was kind of hoping you forgot.... Anyway, I'm not a zombie. Now will you put that gun away?

Hol Horse: Say whaaaat!?

(Emi? Do NOT say things like that, lest you cause it to crash through the wall and crush everyone!)

Emi: I came here through the outdoor passage. If I were a zombie, I'd obviously have burned to dust out there. More importantly, Hol Horse... what are you doing here? I thought you were going after the Joestars!

Hol Horse: Hey, I can't work alone! I may be tough, but I'm not stupid! I came here to scout out a new partner! The owner of this mansion is supposed to be a Stand user.

(Hol Horse leaps up here.)

Hol Horse: W-what did you just say!?

Emi: A stocky Arabian man, right? Do you want to go see? Although the boulder may still be there…

Emi: ...! Body double!?

(He has a body double, because of course he does.)

Hol Horse: The real owner of this mansion is a white-haired, narrow-eyed man. Some call him Silver Fox.

Emi: ...

Hol Horse: I thought he might want to join up with me to break up the monotony... He's a bit of a thrill-seeker. Unfortunately, judging by all the zombies here, he's already preoccupied. Guess he's started a little cat-and-mouse game with you guys.

Emi: Zombies... wait, is he a vampire!?

Hol Horse: Oh, no. Sorry, didn't mean to make it sound that way. I was actually wondering where they were coming from...

(There were zombies in Singapore, too. We met Vins there…)

Hol Horse: ...

(Music grows silent here.)

Emi: These may be unusual circumstances, but if you want to settle this, don't think I'll hold back three-vs-one.

Hol Horse: ...Are you... really Emiko?

Emi: You’re STILL convinced you killed me? …I mean, I was pretty lucky to survive, but-

Hol Horse: ... *sob*

Emi: ?

Hol Horse: I’m *sob* the world’s nicest man to women… Whether they’re ugly or a total babe, I respect them… Believe it or not…

Emi: ...

Hol Horse: I've been filled with regret ever since I thought I'd ended the life of a young woman with a bright future ahead of her... That's why now that you’re alive, I can breathe a sigh of relief. Thank you… for letting me see your smiling face.

Emi: *sweatdrop* (Oh boy… Where do I even start?)

(Well, at least we’ve brightened up Hol Horse’s day.)

Hol Horse: Heh heh... if this mansion's owner has a Stand, it's not gonna be easy to escape. So what do you say? Wanna team up to find a way out? Plus, I'll give you all the info I've collected, and I won't breathe a word to Dio about you being here. Deal?

Emi: ...Fine. Can't say I trust you, but getting out of here is my biggest priority for now....

Hol Horse: Well, glad that's settled. Now let's hurry up and get outta here!

(Yes, let’s. We’ll work on that next time, though.)

Post-update comments

Anybody who’s played more than one horror video game will catch the game being referenced in the title. Next part’s will be… less subtle.

This was supposed to come out on Friday (yes) but was sidetracked a bit. I’ve got some time because it’s reading week for me, so why not get a weekend update? Not that this is going to become a recurring thing.

Typing this up, images (gonna fiddle around with resizing them again like in my TB lp) and all, came to a nice 35pg, 3.8k word doc. It’s not the wordiest, but it’s still hefty compared to other updates I’ve done for almost anything else I’ve documented. And partly why updates for 7SU can take time to come out because I decided I was going to transcribe everything and I’ve committed to that...

#take a stand! lets play jojos bizarre adventure the 7th stand user

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streetkings-yusa · 7 years

Text

Joon Gi 1/?

For the pride of Korea, right? Fuck that.

Several decades had passed since the 1980 Jingweon Massacre at the hands of the Tojo Clan. Joon Gi was still a small child at the time, but he had relatives who had served and died in the gang. The Korean Mafia was relentless, but from their standpoint at the time, they couldn’t hold a goddamn candle to the yakuza, and so they held back. He wanted payback for his family, he wanted to spill that damn chairman’s blood. Joon Gi wanted Kiryu fucking dead.

In the ways of his gangster relatives, he learned as he grew up. Who’d have thunk that cute little kid with the bright eyes, little Han Joon Gi, would beat the shit out of his classmates and stab them with sharpened pencils? Can’t be, right? It had to be the big bully in the class next door, right? But he's so well-mannered and behaved! He learned at a very young age that his cute face would get him off the hook, probably could even get away with murder. All he needed to do was play by the rules, smile, and say "please" and "thank you." No one suspected a thing. After middle school had come and gone, everyone still wondered where little So Jung’s body went. Incinerators do fucking wonders.

Joon Gi was a fucking god at getting away with violence, and he loved the thrill of it. By high school, he had a long kill count on mafia hits over twice his age, and he was untouchable. Poison? Done. Murder? Standard. Shootings? Perfected aim due to his two years of service, along with taking up boxing. He practiced headshots on mob hits prior to his service, and by the time he was out of high school, Joon Gi was a seasoned hitman. The army was peanuts to him. After his discharge, Joon Gi went right back to killing. He was a superstar in the underground, and even older gang leaders feared him. Here he was, before hitting thirty, and he accepted the title of Jingweon’s newest leader.

The bigwigs back home threw a huge fit over Joon Gi’s decision to bring the Jingwoen back to Japan. “Are you insane, kid?! Do you really want to throw your life away? That’s what you’ll be doing when the Tojo sic their yakuza dogs on your ass.” Frightened bitches, he called them. None of the big bosses had the balls to go face the Japanese, and plus, he had a new idea of setting up shop before taking down Kiryu.

He knew he was good-looking. Hell, he already had a hard time keeping the girls away from him sometimes. Fuck buddies got in the way of work every now and then, and there was always a sad moment when he was hired to kill a girl he’d slept with. Oh well, water under the bridge, and there goes her body floating in it. Seeing as there was an over-abundance of women at his doorstep every day, he figured he could get into a host club in Japan and start establishing his foothold there. Korean pop stars were all the rage nowadays, and even Japanese tourists who ventured into Seoul would ask for pictures (of course he declined. He’s no idiot.) Get in a club, work his way up, get dirt on targets from thirsty girls on the way—it was a piece of cake. Speaking Japanese was easy for him too, he did spend his whole life preparing himself for this moment. And those teachers at school thought he was just trying to broaden his horizons, hah!

As soon as he and select members of his gang landed in Japan, they immediately styled their hair into whatever was fashionable, Joon Gi going for the striking silver and hitting the host clubs. He had enough money backing his stay in Japan to buy his own club, but Joon Gi thought best to not attract too much attention to himself. Where’s the fun in getting caught too early? After his successful interview (and instantaneous hire) at Stardust, Joon Gi was on his way home when a pair of street punk nobodies tried to mug him in an alleyway.

“Yo, pretty boy, just give us your wallet and you won’t have to get hurt. Pretty easy, right?” The knife the thug held in his outstretched had looked rusted and worn. Joon Gi couldn’t help himself but laugh out loud at the pathetic sight. Typical wannabe alley trash in cheap black hoodies with busted weapons, fucking riot! “Yo, asshole, what’s so funny? Are you messed up in the head or somethin’?”

“Tch. Yah, you guys are too fucking cute!” Joon Gi said through his bouts of laughter. He just needed to push a few more buttons. “What’s with the puny knife? Gonna fuck me with that ‘cause your dick’s too small?” He saw the rage building in the knifed man’s face. Just a little more. “Sorry your girlfriend faked it all in bed. Must be hard having the world’s tiniest pecker, eh? What? No girlfriend? Damn, being a hooker suckin’ on a straw for a dick doesn’t even sound worth it.”

“FUCK THE MONEY, YOU ARE DEAD, YOU FUCKING BRAT!”

There we go. Joon Gi smirked as he readied himself for the coming attack, fists raised in a fighting stance. The man pounded in his direction, knife raised as his bumbling feet stampeded down the alley like a disoriented rhino. It was almost sad knowing it would be over so quickly. Joon Gi sidestepped into the man’s side, giving him the opening he needed while the knife sailed right past him. Poor bastard. Joon Gi delivered an uppercut with the power of a fucking cannon to the man’s gut, sending him reeling backward. The hit made the man disarm himself and the knife clattered on the ground. In one fell swoop, Joon Gi grabbed the knife, slid towards the inebriated man on the ground like a batter to first base, and drove the rusted blade home between the eyes. He stabbed him several more times until his face looked like a messy knife caddy, wait, what face? Joon Gi’s laughter rang throughout the dark alley. He couldn’t even remember what the asshole’s face even looked like. “Ten seconds,” he exclaimed as he lifted his eyes to the dead man’s partner.

Joon Gi was over the fucking moon. The shithead tried running away, tripped on his own two giraffe feet and pissed himself while trying to regain his balance in a filthy puddle. He couldn’t stop laughing at the pathetic sight. The guy was screaming and rolling around in his own piss! Who knew Japan would be so fun? Still, Joon Gi didn’t want to attract attention, and he was cutting it real close on time. Without further thought, he pulled the knife out of the attacker’s face, giddy that one eyeball was intact as it rolled out of its socket, and strolled over to the attempted-escapee. In one fluid movement, Joon Gi grabbed the man’s hair and lifted it upward, exposing his neck, and buried the rusted blade deep into his throat and slit a nice wide bloody smile. Gotta look pretty for the cameras tomorrow, right? He held the man’s head in place while the blood sprayed outward, waited until the convulsing stopped, then dropped his draining body back into the piss puddle, now mixed with blood.

“Tch, this sucks.” Joon Gi was annoyed with his timing. It took several minutes until the man died. Maybe I should’ve buried the knife deeper. Next time I’ll get it right. He rustled through their pockets and drummed up a measly twenty-thousand yen. This couldn’t replace the bloody shoes they messed up! Frustrated with the night’s end, Joon Gi grabbed both bodies and dragged them along to the dumpster at the end of the alleyway like unwanted luggage. He tossed them into what he assumed was the incinerator pile and buried the bodies under several bags. He was beyond pissed now, seeing as this was his messiest clean-up job, and he couldn’t even properly dispose of the bodies. He knew that they would be found sooner or later, whenever the fuck trash day was in Japan, so he immediately thought of an easy way to pin it on someone. Earlier on in the day he had found a lapel pin belonging to some small-time gangster in a taxi (he learned that members of yakuza gangs wore pins with their clan crests to denote with faction they came from, some shit like that), and it was still in his pocket. He pulled out the pin and his handkerchief, wiped the pin and knife clean of his prints, and tossed them onto the pavement next to the dumpster. He then wiped the blood splatters from his shoes until they shined once again, cleaned off the blood from his hands, and returned the handkerchief to his pocket. Irritated as all hell, he trudged back home and went straight to bed.

The next morning, Joon Gi saw a report of a double homicide on the news. Some yakuza lieutenant was charged with two counts of murder, the bodies trashed in a dumpster and wallets cleaned. One body didn’t even have a face, the other looked like his head was partially lopped off. The killer was arrested upon identifying his pin, which he claimed had lost on his way to some club. He killed the two for wanting to rob a yakuza lieutenant and, not knowing what to do, tossed them into the dumpster like discarded garbage and dropped the pin he had on him all along. According to the anchorwoman, it looked like concrete evidence enough for a unanimous decision in court, and he would most likely be getting ten to life in prison. It seemed almost impossible to contest.

The fried fish he ate never tasted so good. Joon Gi couldn’t help but smile. Who knew Japan would be this fun?

#street kings rp #yakuza #yakuza rp #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku rp #han joon gi

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kingsofchaos · 7 years

Note

I really liked the line 'the dark side of the king' from your question about enforcers. would you maybe be willing to talk some more about Gavin and Ryan being terrible doing Geoff's dirty work??

TheFake’s might joke that Geoff is a pushover, too adoring of hiscrew-mates to really lay down the law as boss, but in reality thereare few men more feared than Ramsey. Few legends with more ruthlessreputations, more stories of heartless brutality; for those outsidehis limited family Ramsey is nothing less than an unmitigated horror.Still,there are certain things Geoff can’t be seen to be involved in,things he must stay above, be diplomatic about. Times when an issueneeds to be taken care of without the blowback, when there must beviolence without inevitable retribution; ferreting out moles,persuading recalcitrant informants, dealing with a problem whobelongs to a gang the FAHC are supposed to be allied with.It’seasy enough to think that in a crew with a reputation as terrible asthe FAHC there is little need for a designated ‘bad guy’. They’re allthe bad guys, just ask the citizens of Los Santos, just look at thebodies in the morgue, track down the ruins of all who have thought tooppose them. There isn’t a single member with clean hands, isn’t onewho didn’t choose this, who isn’t having the time of their life everysinge day morality be damned. And yet there are still jobs Geoffwouldn’t push any of them into, deeds too dark to be forced onto eventhe most loyal. In those cases that call for abhorrent action Geoffcan’t take on himself there is one pair he tends to turn to.Fewwould truly be surprised to hear that Ryan is one of the two who tickthis box, but that his partner in absolute depravity is Gavin wouldcatch some unaware. There are, of course, members of the crew moresuited to being paired with Ryan for all out violence, and those moreapt to accompany Gavin for subtlety, but together the pair of themare unrivalled in their gruesome innovation, their unflinchingdedication. Thereis being willing to do the dirty work, and then there is enjoying it.Excelling at it. Relishing in the snap of bones and panickedpleading, in the creativity of cruelty, the intricate art of fear.They are violent and terrible, all wrath and retribution like thestories of old, they are a reckoning. Unlike most others there isn’teven a moment when either of them regret. Not a single hesitationbefore doing whatever must be done, no matter how terrible, howbrutally unforgivable. No threatis too dark, no act is too far, no reaction too extreme. In thisthere are no lines to cross, no moral code to offend or gods to obey.And worst of all, they enjoy it. They have fun,entertain each other, safe in the knowledge that out of sight of therest of the crew, with none but Geoff really knowing what exactlythey are up to, there is no judgement. No one who matters will thinkdifferently of them for unapologetic iniquity when they are eachother’s only witness and their ruin matches up oh so well.Gavinis delightfully petty, can whip out flippant comments and passingjokes from months or even years ago in his monologue, twist them intosome pithy one liner on the fly, like a hollywood villain without anycheesy dialogue to detract from the menace. He knows just how toframe their attack, laying out exactly what infraction has brought onRamsey’s ire and building an awful sense of suspense as hedelightedly meanders around what they are going to do about it.It’snot something that should be appealing, it’s awful really, bitterlycruel, but it makes Ryan’s sense of melodrama sing. Ryan who couldhave chosen any mask in the world but went directly for a blackenedskull. Who drops his already deep voice two octaves when he purrs outthreats and has a terrible habit of laying wait in dark corners untilhe spots the perfect moment to loom in sight. Ryan who’s never crumbled in theface of desperate begging, never seen grovelling as anything butundignified, who can’t help but appreciate the way it merely makesGavin turn up his nose, roll his eyes, toss Ryan increasinglyincredulous looks; Christ isn’t this one pathetic?Theyshare enough languages to communicate in privacy no matter thesituation but even without planning they are synchronised enough towork in tandem, playing into each others proclivities, teasingchatter as much for their own genuine amusement as it is for tauntingtheir prey. There are no hard and fast rules to their partnership-sometimes Ryan’s feeling particularly chatty and sometimes Gavin’sitching to pull out his lovely gold knives- but more often than notGavin wheedles his way into the mind of their victim before Ryanquite literally pulls them apart. Just as Gavin strokes Ryan’s egowhen he leans in and pleasantly explains all the horrific things theVagabond has done, Ryan pander’s to Gavin’s ever vicious whim; dragsthings out, slows them down, get’s disgustingly creative.There’salways been something distinctly animalistic in Gavin, the way heslinks like a predator, grins wide enough to bare his teeth, the wayhe can’t help toying with his food, but in this he isn’t Gavin Free,the Fake’s happy-go-lucky wrecking ball of chaos, isn’t the GoldenBoy, Ramsey’s unbelievably persuasive frontman; this is anothercreature all together. On these jobs Gavin is no less the showman,still all insidious cunning and attention-grabbing flash, but foronce he does nothing to disguise his own decay. Doesn’t inject falseemotion where none exists, doesn’t manufacture empathy, won’t evenpretend to give a solitary shit about anything outside his own world,his life, his people. Amusement as chilling as it is cold-blooded,crushing any hope that he might be the tempering force, that thepresence of the glittering Golden Boy will reign in the Vagabond.AndRyan, good grief Ryan. The Vagabond already has so very many torturedtales attached to his name, already inspires so much fear, but peopledo like to hope his reputation is inflated. Like to think the manbehind the mask can’t truly be as terrible as they say, must sufferthe same bouts of guilt and mercy as anyone else. Think theVagabond’s greatest secret is the fact that at the end of the day heis just a man. The look in their eyes when they realise they arewrong, realise that while the skull may be a mask Ryanhas always been the monster, is the stuff nightmares are made of. TheVagabond isn’t soft on a good day, but in this role he is ruthless.It would, perhaps, be a relief if he were cold, detached. Would be aneasier pill to swallow if he acted with his usual air ofprofessionalism, but this? This is Ryan in his element. This is theVagabond having fun.It’sa tossup who’s better off; the victims who die slow and painful orthe ones who get to live. The ones who spill their secrets, whosuffer their punishments, and in the end are left to crawl free.Those who never really stop thinking about bloodstained teeth andrazor-blade smirks, distressingly fond banter and cold flateyes. None of them come back right, none of them return the same waythey left, have suffered terror beyond words, experienced horrorsthey will never be capable of explaining. Most wind up leaving thecity, even a passing mention of the Fake AH Crew enough to send themshaking, the possibility of another run in utterly intolerable, butthose who stay only serve to further boost the duos reputation.It’sone thing for anyone with half a brain to fear the Vagabond, it’squite another for well-known crooks to literally flee when heappears, spike classic fear-mongering rumours with far more truthfultales of vicious depravity, go to absurd lengths to steer clear ofthe FAHC at any cost. In the same vein the denizens of Los Santos canonly say Gavin’s name with increased reverence after a mere winktossed at some thug playing muscle in the background of a meeting hasthe man throwing up all over himself. Can only be more impressed whena slow smile and whispered comment has another back-peddling so fastthe Fake’s make off with way more than they were owed.Which,of course, suits Geoff just fine, reaping the boons of the pethorrors he keeps in his pocket for a rainy day; rare, but undeniablymemorable. To see the three of them at work is a sight to behold,Ramsey strolling along flanked by his most wicked miscreants, one thedarkened menace of death incarnate, the other almost alight with hisown glittering hubris, not a scrap of restraint or morality betweenthem. They are apocalypse, are inevitable disaster, the end of allthings good and holy and with an unseen signal they peel off, leavetheir grinning king to walk alone as they melt back into the night,set free once more to hunt.

#FAHC #melodrama might as well be my middle name at this point #also miiight have gone slightly darker than intended #the whole 'guilty over necessary evils' Ryan is fun #but god i love 'actually way scarier than his image' Ryan #'Doesn't lose a wink of sleep' Ryan #actually a very bad dude Ryan #Like actually a very bad dude Geoff #marshmallows for their family #but honestly monstrous #because hello renown criminals #hello mass murderers #hello my own damaged psyche #also you very well know i'm into dangerous Gavin #you must have seen that coming #Loaded Guns and Sharp Teeth #Chaos Reigns #Ask #Anonymous

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meetmefireside · 7 years

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escape. 4.

Kauai - Napali Coast

I have been hard pressed to find a place more beautiful than Kauai. After visiting for the first time in June 2016, I was on a plane back less than a year later. There are so many places that I want to see, but I still find myself fighting the urge not to just go back to Hawaii again. Hawaii was Plan B. I had every intention of going to the UK for a short trip that month, but if I’m honest, the planning got overwhelming so I decided to go with a trip a lot easier to plan.

For our first full day on the Island of Kauai, “The Garden Isle” and the oldest of the islands of Hawaii, I had booked a six hour zodiac tour of the Napali Coast. Our group was large compared to the group I’d go with a 9 months later. There was a family of four (very happy looking mom, chill zen dad, early twenties girl, and early twenties guy who wouldn’t follow the rules), a red headed girl about our age and her boyfriend/husband (who was not at all thrilled when Corey got seasick), two middle aged couples (who sat at the front of the boat, and the guy who trolled Corey in the bathroom), and a very nice newly wed couple who sat next to Corey and I. Our captain was a short in stature and very warm Hawaiian girl, about our age, and a thin, quieter male first mate.

Prior to boarding the boat, the captain voiced how pleased she was to see such a beautiful day. We were very lucky. It was very clear outside, and the water was very calm with three foot swells.

Once we were aboard, we set sale for a tour of the “ugly part” of the coast. The south shore. The less rigid cliff sides. She told us all about the naval base there. We saw the missile launchers where they test missiles in the ocean. As we were in the area, we happened upon a beautiful pod of spinner dolphins.

As we sat still in that small piece of the vast ocean, the boat moved ever so steady and smooth at the grace of the gentle swells beneath us. A quiet reverence fell amongst the group, exaggerated by the sudden silence of the engine. We were completely surrounded.

There were pairs of dolphins swimming in gradual motions around us. These dolphins were paired up as they were in their resting phase, the dolphin version of sleep. Other dolphins whizzed playfully about. They came right up to the boat. I could have leapt in the water with them. I saw two baby dolphins, which looked like elongated footballs. They were so precious. I felt so grateful to be in their presence. What are the chances that had brought us together, at that moment in time?

Spinner dolphins can only be seen in the wild because if separated from their pods they go into a depression and choose to die instead of continue living in captivity. Pods are typically about 100 dolphins, but every now and then you may come across a super pod of 500-1,000 dolphins. All of this according to our captain.

After our moment of reverence, it was time to play. The captain turned the engine on the zodiac again, and started making waves with the boat, much to the pleasure of the dolphins, They followed behind the boat jumping and playing in the waves it created. The captain told us to continue cheering for them. The more you cheer and whistle, the more they jump. It seems to work. Their bellies even turn pink to blush at your applause.

Above the dolphin in this picture, you can see a dense piece above the water. This little island is Ni’ihau, “The Forbidden Isle.”

Elizabeth Sinclair purchased Niʻihau from Kamehameha V in 1864 for $10,000 in gold. The island was home to a group of native Hawaiians who were allowed to stay and live on the island. You cannot visit the island, except through limited excursions offered by The Robinsons, the owners and descendants of Elizabeth Sinclair. According to the 2009 US Census, there are around 130 residents currently on Ni’ihau. These residents live as close to the native Hawaiian way as it gets, preserving the language. They make beautiful lei’s from the famous Ni’ihau pūpū shells. We were blessed to find a large selection of some authentic lei’s at a certified dealer in southern Kauai. The Ni’ihau spend hours scouring the beach for beautiful shells, and weave them together intricately. Their larger lei’s can sell for as much as $8000. They grow in value as the population of Ni’ihau continues to dwindle, with younger generations leaving for life on the mainland.

After learning about Ni’ihau, I was so sad to leave the dolphins behind, to move further up the shoreline of Kauai.

Our captain stopped at a small stretch of calm ocean and asked if we wanted to go out for a swim. I had looked at Corey fearful and voiced my fear of sharks to the captain as others in our group jumped into the water. She reassured me not to worry. The water around us was turquoise and crystal clear. A vast ocean all around us, there was a very low likelihood of a shark encounter. I lamented how Bethany Hamilton was from Kauai, the surfer who had her arm taken off by a shark there, and the captain explained that she typically surfs in the early parts of the morning when the sharks are feeding. I wasn’t sure if this was true, but she seemed reassured. I jumped in. I am so glad I did.

In one of my earlier posts on here, I talk about how much I love being on boats and how I jump at the opportunity to get in the water, as it makes me feel a part of the earth. This is the moment that started that. I had faced my fears and placed myself at the mercy of the earth. At the mercy of the wild. While I am an okay swimmer, I am certainly not a fast swimmer. Also, getting to safety would have required me to swim to the boat and climb a ladder, which had not been lowered at that point. Whichever way you spin it, if something were to happen, I would be delayed to safety.

When I am in the water, my wellbeing is beyond my control. It belongs solely to the earth. The reality is, this is true all of the time. It can be so easy to forget the presence of God and that your safety and security is ordained by Him alone. It can be so easy to get caught up in self doubt and blame in frustrated attempts to control life. I am very hard on myself. I constantly stress and try to predict and premeditate the problems of my life. The problems of my world. When I am in that moment, I am okay with it all. I am okay with living. I am okay with dying. I remember that it’s not all about me. I remember that I am a small and insignificant part of a vast earth, and when I come out the other side of it, safe and sound, I am reminded of the mercies God affords me every day.

Thank you to the aforementioned newly wed husband for capturing this moment for us.

As we moved up the coast, we saw “King Kong,” a rock outcropping that marks the beginning of the “pretty side” of the coast. You can barely see it in this photo, but its at the base of the cliff. Appropriately named, as iconic scenes of King Kong were filmed on the Napali. Particularly the scene where Jessica Lange bathes in a waterfall from King Kong’s hand.

As we entered the area, we were blessed by the presence of sea turtles. The feed on the green and red algae that grows at the base of the rock along the shore. We didn’t get to see them eating, as they were a little preoccupied with, ahem, a more private moment. ;) #turtlestyle

As we moved up the shoreline, our captain moved the zodiac in and out of sea caves. As it was calm summer time, we had lots of company. There were large groups of kayakers finding refuge in the caves as we moved in and out. There was quite a congregate at the most iconic sea cave along the coast, an open top cave that the ocean carved so deep into the cliff side the ceiling fell it, creating a small island in the middle. I took some really beautiful pictures and videos of this cave when I came back the second time, but due to the amount of kayakers and people on our boat, I settled for this selfie.

As we moved up the shore, hugging it pretty close as the zodiac allowed, I was elated that Plan B had prevailed. Magestic is the only way to describe it. It was such a clear day, and after experiencing fog on my second trip, I have come to retrospectively appreciate the views even more. It was so clear we could see all the way to the top of “water flowing from God’s throne,” the second tallest sea waterfall in the world.

The magic I felt as we floated beneath waterfalls inside of the sea caves. The cold water against my warm skin elevated my spirit. My mind floated far, far above. The gifts of the earth meeting me in the quiet.

We continued up the coast line exploring caves, and because we had to turn the engine off to float in and out of some of them, the boat was being tossed and turned more sporadically. Having not eaten in sometime, Corey got really sea sick. The captain didn’t seem super concerned, advising he “go for distance” and “focus on the horizon.” This helped him. Although she was chill about it, one guy moved quickly away from Corey, afraid he would end up in the line of fire. I was dismayed for Corey. I could tell he was embarrassed, but he pushed through.

We arrived at an abandoned beach for lunch. As we approached the shore, we saws rare monk seal feeding on the reef. He was so cute. This particular monk seal had been feeding on the reef recently. There are only 40-45 monk seals in and around Kauai, so I was impressed at our luck. The cute water doggo and the chance to get off of the boat was a welcome sight to both Corey and I.

I jumped immediately in the water as soon as I was handed my snorkel gear to see the monk seal. In my quest, I swam out deeper into the ocean tun I would have liked, and noticing the murky water and finding myself surrounded by fish, I retreated back to the safety of the reef and the shoreline.

We had a delicious lunch. I faintly remember it now. I know there was fresh fruit, some sort of seasoned pork, and some sort of slaw. It doesn’t sound tropical, but it was tropically seasoned. Our captain had brought homemade poke (Hawaiian raw fish salad). We had tried poke the night before at our hotel, but knew it wasn’t a good representation as all of the food there was mediocre. I never eat hotel food, but we were tired and desperate the evening before, not wanting to drive. She shared generously with us and the newly wed couple. It was very good, but I was partial to what I was already eating. The newly wed husband ended up eating the rest of it.

After eating, the first mate took us on a tour of the beach, an abandoned ancient Hawaiian village area. I remember we joined with another zodiac group, and we’d overheard one of the people in that group say he worked for the company hat supplied the paper for NBC’s The Office. (Ugh, why wasn’t he on our boat? I had so many questions.)

There were noni trees growing all about bearing their strange fruit. The outside of the fruit looks like diseased boil skin, but the inside looked like refreshing citrus but smelled like rotting cheese. Our guide invited us to taste it but warned we might regret it. A couple in our group tried it, but I wasn’t willing to have a bad taste in my mouth the rest of the ride back! Or worse, get sea sick.

There were goats all around the island. We were told some story about how Captain Vancouver had made a deal with the King, saying he would bring cows to Hawaii, describing how one animal could sustain a lot of people. I forget what he traded them for. Oh, me. Anyway. So, on the long voyage back to Hawaii, they got super hungry and ate the cows and all they had left were goats. They told the king the “cows” would grow into the large beasts he described. They never did. Kauai is overrun with feral goats now. They were all over the lava rock cliff side encasing the beach, which contributes to erosion and lava rock is very brittle. The day before a goat had come tumbling down the cliffside. The beach is an archeological area, still having rock platforms made by the Polynesians where hula dancers would perform for the king. They goats trample them which is a clear sustainability problem. DEY REAL CUTE THO. It was surreal to imagine in my minds eye what it must have been like to witness a hula there.

We saw a cut out in the rock with some authentic original coconut rope hanging from it. Another small village had been on the other side of the cliff, and the two villages would pass provisions through the small crevice.

One of the things that surprised me about Hawaii, is the amount of lore that is all around. I don’t know why I was surprised. The ancient polynesian culture was rich and robust. I was surprised that there are Hawaiians who still practice the religion. In the picture below, you can see an “X” on the cliff wall that was formed long ago by lava. The legend says that Pele (goddess of volcanoes) had such love for her sister (goddess of plants) that she “marked” the island of Kauai to symbolize that she would never touch it with her fire again. Thus, Kauai became the garden island. Legend says that she had such love for her sister, that she slowly did the same thing with all of the islands in Hawaii except the Big Island. Every island other than the Big Island in Hawaii has this “x” mark, and all face in the same direction. The Big Island is the only island in Hawaii that has an active volcano today.

After exploring the island, we made our way back to the dock. I am so grateful for this day. I am so grateful to be alive.

#escape #kauai #napalicoast

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beyondforks · 7 years

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Paying Catch Up! Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard

Playing Catch Up has really been helping me through my ever growing TBR list. I'd like to welcome all other blogs to participate too! If you do, be sure to post your links in the comments section. I'd love to see your Playing Catch Up Reviews, and I'm sure others would too!! *wink*

Want to know more about Playing Catch Up? I'll tell you all about it here!

Red Queen (Red Queen #1) by Victoria Aveyard Genre: Young Adult (Dystopian/Science Fiction/Romance) Date Published: February 10, 2015 Publisher: HarperTeen

This is a world divided by blood – red or silver.

The Reds are commoners, ruled by a Silver elite in possession of god-like superpowers. And to Mare Barrow, a seventeen-year-old Red girl from the poverty-stricken Stilts, it seems like nothing will ever change.

That is, until she finds herself working in the Silver Palace. Here, surrounded by the people she hates the most, Mare discovers that, despite her red blood, she possesses a deadly power of her own. One that threatens to destroy the balance of power.

Fearful of Mare’s potential, the Silvers hide her in plain view, declaring her a long-lost Silver princess, now engaged to a Silver prince. Despite knowing that one misstep would mean her death, Mare works silently to help the Red Guard, a militant resistance group, and bring down the Silver regime.

But this is a world of betrayal and lies, and Mare has entered a dangerous dance – Reds against Silvers, prince against prince, and Mare against her own heart.

Red Queen is the first book in the Red Queen series by Victoria Aveyard. I've been wanting to read this book for a while, and I've heard great things about it. I liked it quite a bit, but I was expecting something more I think. It reminded me of some other books I've read over the years. Mare's personality and situation had this America/Katniss feel to her... actually the story had a pretty strong 'The Selection' feel to it... only there wasn't really a Selection. With all those similarities, come some high expectations. The story was entertaining though, and I found myself liking the characters and getting into Mare's life. There is a bit of romance going on. I'm not going to claim a Team yet, but I do have a favorite among the guys. Mare has some options here, but there is so much more she has to worry about. I think in the next book we'll get more into all that is going around her. So, while I was a little disappointed in this book, I did like it overall, and I've already started reading the next book in the series.

I hate First Friday. It makes the village crowded, and now, in the heat of high summer, that’s the last thing anyone wants. From my place in the shade it isn’t so bad, but the stink of bodies, all sweating with the morning work, is enough to make milk curdle. The air shimmers with heat and humidity, and even the puddles from yesterday’s storm are hot, swirling with rainbow streaks of oil and grease. The market deflates, with everyone closing up their stalls for the day. The merchants are distracted, careless, and it’s easy for me to take whatever I want from their wares. By the time I’m done, my pockets bulge with trinkets and I’ve got an apple for the road. Not bad for a few minutes’ work. As the throng of people moves, I let myself be taken away by the human current. My hands dart in and out, always in fleeting touches. Some paper bills from a man’s pocket, a bracelet from a woman’s wrist—nothing too big. Villagers are too busy shuffling along to notice a pickpocket in their midst. The high, stilt buildings for which the village is named (the Stilts, very original) rise all around us, ten feet above the muddy ground. In the spring the lower bank is underwater, but right now it’s August, when dehydration and sun sickness stalk the village. Almost everyone looks forward to the first Friday of each month, when work and school end early. But not me. No, I’d rather be in school, learning nothing in a classroom full of children. Not that I’ll be in school much longer. My eighteenth birthday is coming, and with it, conscription. I’m not apprenticed, I don’t have a job, so I’m going to be sent to the war like all the other idle ones. It’s no wonder there’s no work left, what with every man, woman, and child trying to stay out of the army. My brothers went to war when they turned eighteen, all three of them sent to fight Lakelanders. Only Shade can write worth a lick, and he sends me letters when he can. I haven’t heard from my other brothers, Bree and Tramy, in over a year. But no news is good news. Families can go years without hearing a thing, only to find their sons and daughters waiting on the front doorstep, home on leave or sometimes blissfully discharged. But usually you receive a letter made of heavy paper, stamped with the king’s crown seal below a short thank-you for your child’s life. Maybe you even get a few buttons from their torn, obliterated uniforms. I was thirteen when Bree left. He kissed me on the cheek and gave me a single pair of earrings for my little sister, Gisa, and me to split. They were dangling glass beads, the hazy pink color of sunset. We pierced our ears ourselves that night. Tramy and Shade kept up the tradition when they went. Now Gisa and I have one ear each set with three tiny stones to remind us of our brothers fighting somewhere. I didn’t really believe they’d have to go, not until the legionnaire in his polished armor showed up and took them away one after another. And this fall, they’ll come for me. I’ve already started saving—and stealing—to buy Gisa some earrings when I go. Don’t think about it. That’s what Mom always says, about the army, about my brothers, about everything. Great advice, Mom. Down the street, at the crossing of Mill and Marcher roads, the crowd thickens and more villagers join the current. A gang of kids, little thieves in training, flutters through the fray with sticky, searching fingers. They’re too young to be good at it, and Security officers are quick to intervene. Usually the kids would be sent to the stocks, or the jail at the outpost, but the officers want to see First Friday. They settle for giving the ringleaders a few harsh knocks before letting them go. Small mercies. The tiniest pressure at my waist makes me spin, acting on instinct. I grab at the hand foolish enough to pickpocket me, squeezing tight so the little imp won’t be able to run away. But instead of a scrawny kid, I find myself staring up at a smirking face. Kilorn Warren. A fisherman’s apprentice, a war orphan, and probably my only real friend. We used to beat each other up as children, but now that we’re older—and he’s a foot taller than me—I try to avoid scuffles. He has his uses, I suppose. Reaching high shelves, for example. “You’re getting faster.” He chuckles, shaking off my grip. “Or you’re getting slower.” He rolls his eyes and snatches the apple out of my hand. “Are we waiting for Gisa?” he asks, taking a bite of the fruit. “She has a pass for the day. Working.” “Then let’s get moving. Don’t want to miss the show.” “And what a tragedy that would be.” “Tsk, tsk, Mare,” he teases, shaking a finger at me. “This is supposed to be fun.” “It’s supposed to be a warning, you dumb fool.” But he’s already walking off with his long strides, forcing me to almost trot to keep up. His gait weaves, off balance. Sea legs, he calls them, though he’s never been to the far-off sea. I guess long hours on his master’s fishing boat, even on the river, are bound to have some effect. Like my dad, Kilorn’s father was sent off to war, but whereas mine returned missing a leg and a lung, Mr. Warren came back in a shoe box. Kilorn’s mother ran off after that, leaving her young son to fend for himself. He almost starved to death but somehow kept picking fights with me. I fed him so that I wouldn’t have to kick around a bag of bones, and now, ten years later, here he is. At least he’s apprenticed and won’t face the war. We get to the foot of the hill, where the crowd is thicker, pushing and prodding on all sides. First Friday attendance is mandatory, unless you are, like my sister, an “essential laborer.” As if embroidering silk is essential. But the Silvers love their silk, don’t they? Even the Security officers, a few of them anyway, can be bribed with pieces sewn by my sister. Not that I know anything about that. The shadows around us deepen as we climb up the stone stairs, toward the crest of the hill. Kilorn takes them two at a time, almost leaving me behind, but he stops to wait. He smirks down at me and tosses a lock of faded, tawny hair out of his green eyes. “Sometimes I forget you have the legs of a child.” “Better than the brain of one,” I snap, giving him a light smack on the cheek as I pass. His laughter follows me up the steps. “You’re grouchier than usual.” “I just hate these things.” “I know,” he murmurs, solemn for once. And then we’re in the arena, the sun blazing hot overhead. Built ten years ago, the arena is easily the largest structure in the Stilts. It’s nothing compared to the colossal ones in the cities, but still, the soaring arches of steel, the thousands of feet of concrete, are enough to make a village girl catch her breath. Security officers are everywhere, their black-and-silver uniforms standing out in the crowd. This is First Friday, and they can’t wait to watch the proceedings. They carry long rifles or pistols, though they don’t need them. As is customary, the officers are Silvers, and Silvers have nothing to fear from us Reds. Everyone knows that. We are not their equals, though you wouldn’t know it from looking at us. The only thing that serves to distinguish us, outwardly at least, is that Silvers stand tall. Our backs are bent by work and unanswered hope and the inevitable disappointment with our lot in life. Inside the open-topped arena is just as hot as out, and Kilorn, always on his toes, leads me to some shade. We don’t get seats here, just long concrete benches, but the few Silver nobles up above enjoy cool, comfortable boxes. There they have drinks, food, ice even in high summer, cushioned chairs, electric lights, and other comforts I’ll never enjoy. The Silvers don’t bat an eye at any of it, complaining about the “wretched conditions.” I’ll give them a wretched condition, if I ever have the chance. All we get are hard benches and a few screechy video screens almost too bright and too noisy to stand. “Bet you a day’s wages it’s another strongarm today,” Kilorn says, tossing his apple core toward the arena floor. “No bet,” I shoot back at him. Many Reds gamble their earnings on the fights, hoping to win a little something to help them get through another week. But not me, not even with Kilorn. It’s easier to cut the bookie’s purse than try to win money from it. “You shouldn’t waste your money like that.” “It’s not a waste if I’m right. It’s always a strongarm beating up on someone.” Strongarms usually make up at least one-half of the fights, their skills and abilities better suited to the arena than almost any other Silver. They seem to revel in it, using their superhuman strength to toss other champions around like rag dolls. “What about the other one?” I ask, thinking about the range of Silvers that could appear. Telkies, swifts, nymphs, greenys, stoneskins—all of them terrible to watch. “Not sure. Hopefully something cool. I could use some fun.” Kilorn and I don’t really see eye to eye on the Feats of First Friday. For me, watching two champions rip into each other is not enjoyable, but Kilorn loves it. Let them ruin each other, he says. They’re not our people. He doesn’t understand what the Feats are about. This isn’t mindless entertainment, meant to give us some respite from grueling work. This is calculated, cold, a message. Only Silvers can fight in the arenas because only a Silver can survive the arena. They fight to show us their strength and power. You are no match for us. We are your betters. We are gods. It’s written in every superhuman blow the champions land. And they’re absolutely right. Last month I watched a swift battle a telky and, though the swift could move faster than the eye could see, the telky stopped him cold. With just the power of his mind, he lifted the other fighter right off the ground. The swift started to choke; I think the telky had some invisible grip on his throat. When the swift’s face turned blue, they called the match. Kilorn cheered. He’d bet on the telky. “Ladies and gentlemen, Silvers and Reds, welcome to First Friday, the Feat of August.” The announcer’s voice echoes around the arena, magnified by the walls. He sounds bored, as usual, and I don’t blame him. Once, the Feats were not matches at all, but executions. Prisoners and enemies of the state would be transported to Archeon, the capital, and killed in front of a Silver crowd. I guess the Silvers liked that, and the matches began. Not to kill but to entertain. Then they became the Feats and spread out to the other cities, to different arenas and different audiences. Eventually the Reds were granted admission, confined to the cheap seats. It wasn’t long until the Silvers built arenas everywhere, even villages like the Stilts, and attendance that was once a gift became a mandatory curse. My brother Shade says it’s because arena cities enjoyed a marked reduction in Red crime, dissent, even the few acts of rebellion. Now Silvers don’t have to use execution or the legions or even Security to keep the peace; two champions can scare us just as easily. Today, the two in question look up to the job. The first to walk out onto the white sand is announced as Cantos Carros, a Silver from Harbor Bay in the east. The video screen blares a clear picture of the warrior, and no one needs to tell me this is a strongarm. He has arms like tree trunks, corded and veined and straining against his own skin. When he smiles, I can see all his teeth are gone or broken. Maybe he ran afoul of his own toothbrush when he was a growing boy. Next to me, Kilorn cheers and the other villagers roar with him. A Security officer throws a loaf of bread at the louder ones for their trouble. To my left, another hands a screaming child a bright yellow piece of paper. ’Lec papers—extra electricity rations. All of it to make us cheer, to make us scream, to force us to watch, even if we don’t want to. “That’s right, let him hear you!” the announcer drawls, forcing as much enthusiasm into his voice as he can. “And here we have his opponent, straight from the capital, Samson Merandus.” The other warrior looks pale and weedy next to the human-shaped hunk of muscle, but his blue steel armor is fine and polished to a high sheen. He’s probably the second son of a second son, trying to win renown in the arena. Though he should be scared, he looks strangely calm. His last name sounds familiar, but that’s not unusual. Many Silvers belong to famous families, called houses, with dozens of members. The governing family of our region, the Capital Valley, is House Welle, though I’ve never seen Governor Welle in my life. He never visits it more than once or twice a year, and even then, he never stoops to entering a Red village like mine. I saw his riverboat once, a sleek thing with green-and-gold flags. He’s a greeny, and when he passed, the trees on the bank burst into blossom and flowers popped out of the ground. I thought it was beautiful, until one of the older boys threw rocks at his boat. The stones fell harmlessly into the river. They put the boy in the stocks anyway. “It’ll be the strongarm for sure.” Kilorn frowns at the small champion. “How do you know? What’s Samson’s power?” “Who cares, he’s still going to lose,” I scoff, settling in to watch. The usual call rings out over the arena. Many rise to their feet, eager to watch, but I stay seated in silent protest. As calm as I might look, anger boils in my skin. Anger, and jealousy. We are gods, echoes in my head. “Champions, set your feet.” They do, digging in their heels on opposite sides of the arena. Guns aren’t allowed in arena fights, so Cantos draws a short, wide sword. I doubt he’ll need it. Samson produces no weapon, his fingers merely twitching by his side. A low, humming electric tone runs through the arena. I hate this part. The sound vibrates in my teeth, in my bones, pulsing until I think something might shatter. It ends abruptly with a chirping chime. It begins. I exhale. It looks like a bloodbath right away. Cantos barrels forward like a bull, kicking up sand in his wake. Samson tries to dodge Cantos, using his shoulder to slide around the Silver, but the strongarm is quick. He gets hold of Samson’s leg and tosses him across the arena like he’s made of feathers. The subsequent cheers cover Samson’s roar of pain as he collides with the cement wall, but it’s written on his face. Before he can hope to stand, Cantos is over him, heaving him skyward. He hits the sand in a heap of what can only be broken bones but somehow rises to his feet again. “Is he a punching bag?” Kilorn laughs. “Let him have it, Cantos!” Kilorn doesn’t care about an extra loaf of bread or a few more minutes of electricity. That’s not why he cheers. He honestly wants to see blood, Silver blood—silverblood—stain the arena. It doesn’t matter that the blood is everything we aren’t, everything we can’t be, everything we want. He just needs to see it and trick himself into thinking they are truly human, that they can be hurt and defeated. But I know better. Their blood is a threat, a warning, a promise. We are not the same and never will be. He’s not disappointed. Even the box seats can see the metallic, iridescent liquid dripping from Samson’s mouth. It reflects the summer sun like a watery mirror, painting a river down his neck and into his armor. This is the true division between Silvers and Reds: the color of our blood. This simple difference somehow makes them stronger, smarter, better than us. Samson spits, sending a sunburst of silverblood across the arena. Ten yards away, Cantos tightens his grip on his sword, ready to incapacitate Samson and end this. “Poor fool,” I mutter. It seems Kilorn is right. Nothing but a punching bag. Cantos pounds through the sand, sword held high, eyes on fire. And then he freezes midstep, his armor clanking with the sudden stop. From the middle of the arena, the bleeding warrior points at Cantos, with a stare to break bone. Samson flicks his fingers and Cantos walks, perfectly in time with Samson’s movements. His mouth falls open, like he’s gone slow or stupid. Like his mind is gone. I can’t believe my eyes. A deathly quiet falls over the arena as we watch, not understanding the scene below us. Even Kilorn has nothing to say. “A whisper,” I breathe aloud. Never before have I seen one in the arena—I doubt anyone has. Whispers are rare, dangerous, and powerful, even among the Silvers, even in the capital. The rumors about them vary, but it boils down to something simple and chilling: they can enter your head, read your thoughts, and control your mind. And this is exactly what Samson is doing, having whispered his way past Cantos’s armor and muscle, into his very brain, where there are no defenses. Cantos raises his sword, hands trembling. He’s trying to fight Samson’s power. But strong as he is, there’s no fighting the enemy in his mind. Another twist of Samson’s hand and silverblood splashes across the sand as Cantos plunges his sword straight through his armor, into the flesh of his own stomach. Even up in the seats, I can hear the sickening squelch of metal cutting through meat. As the blood gushes from Cantos, gasps echo across the arena. We’ve never seen so much blood here before. Blue lights flash to life, bathing the arena floor in a ghostly glow, signaling the end of the match. Silver healers run across the sand, rushing to the fallen Cantos. Silvers aren’t supposed to die here. Silvers are supposed to fight bravely, to flaunt their skills, to put on a good show—but not die. After all, they aren’t Reds. Officers move faster than I’ve ever seen before. A few are swifts, rushing to and fro in a blur as they herd us out. They don’t want us around if Cantos dies on the sand. Meanwhile, Samson strides from the arena like a titan. His gaze falls on Cantos’s body, and I expect him to look apologetic. Instead, his face is blank, emotionless, and so cold. The match was nothing to him. We are nothing to him. In school, we learned about the world before ours, about the angels and gods that lived in the sky, ruling the earth with kind and loving hands. Some say those are just stories, but I don’t believe that. The gods rule us still. They have come down from the stars. And they are no longer kind. Two Our house is small, even by Stilts standards, but at least we have a view. Before his injury, during one of his army leaves, Dad built the house high so we could see across the river. Even through the haze of summer you can see the cleared pockets of land that were once forest, now logged into oblivion. They look like a disease, but to the north and west, the untouched hills are a calm reminder. There is so much more out there. Beyond us, beyond the Silvers, beyond everything I know. I climb the ladder up to the house, over worn wood shaped to the hands that ascend and descend every day. From this height I can see a few boats heading upriver, proudly flying their bright flags. Silvers. They’re the only ones rich enough to use private transportation. While they enjoy wheeled transports, pleasure boats, even high-flying airjets, we get nothing more than our own two feet, or a push cycle if we’re lucky. The boats must be heading to Summerton, the small city that springs to life around the king’s summer residence. Gisa was there today, aiding the seamstress she is apprenticed to. They often go to the market there when the king visits, to sell her wares to the Silver merchants and nobles who follow the royals like ducklings. The palace itself is known as the Hall of the Sun, and it’s supposed to be a marvel, but I’ve never seen it. I don’t know why the royals have a second house, especially since the capital palace is so fine and beautiful. But like all Silvers, they don’t act out of need. They are driven by want. And what they want, they get. Before I open the door to the usual chaos, I pat the flag fluttering from the porch. Three red stars on yellowed fabric, one for each brother, and room for more. Room for me. Most houses have flags like this, some with black stripes instead of stars in quiet reminder of dead children. Inside, Mom sweats over the stove, stirring a pot of stew while my father glares at it from his wheelchair. Gisa embroiders at the table, making something beautiful and exquisite and entirely beyond my comprehension. “I’m home,” I say to no one in particular. Dad answers with a wave, Mom a nod, and Gisa doesn’t look up from her scrap of silk. I drop my pouch of stolen goods next to her, letting the coins jingle as much as they can. “I think I’ve got enough to get a proper cake for Dad’s birthday. And more batteries, enough to last the month.” Gisa eyes the pouch, frowning with distaste. She’s only fourteen but sharp for her age. “One day people are going to come and take everything you have.” “Jealousy doesn’t become you, Gisa,” I scold, patting her on the head. Her hands fly up to her perfect, glossy red hair, brushing it back into her meticulous bun. I’ve always wanted her hair, though I’d never tell her that. Where hers is like fire, my hair is what we call river brown. Dark at the root, pale at the ends, as the color leeches from our hair with the stress of Stilts life. Most keep their hair short to hide their gray ends but I don’t. I like the reminder that even my hair knows life shouldn’t be this way. “I’m not jealous,” she huffs, returning to her work. She stitches flowers made of fire, each one a beautiful flame of thread against oily black silk. “That’s beautiful, Gee.” I let my hand trace one of the flowers, marveling at the silky feel of it. She glances up and smiles softly, showing even teeth. As much as we fight, she knows she’s my little star. And everyone knows I’m the jealous one, Gisa. I can’t do anything but steal from people who can actually do things. Once she finishes her apprenticeship, she’ll be able to open her own shop. Silvers will come from all around to pay her for handkerchiefs and flags and clothing. Gisa will achieve what few Reds do and live well. She’ll provide for our parents and give me and my brothers menial jobs to get us out of the war. Gisa is going to save us one day, with nothing more than needle and thread. “Night and day, my girls,” Mom mutters, running a finger through graying hair. She doesn’t mean it as an insult but a prickly truth. Gisa is skilled, pretty, and sweet. I’m a bit rougher, as Mom kindly puts it. The dark to Gisa’s light. I suppose the only common things between us are the shared earrings, the memory of our brothers. Dad wheezes from his corner and hammers his chest with a fist. This is common, since he has only one real lung. Luckily the skill of a Red medic saved him, replacing the collapsed lung with a device that could breathe for him. It wasn’t a Silver invention, as they have no need for such things. They have the healers. But healers don’t waste their time saving the Reds, or even working on the front lines keeping soldiers alive. Most of them remain in the cities, prolonging the lives of ancient Silvers, mending livers destroyed by alcohol and the like. So we’re forced to indulge in an underground market of technology and inventions to help better ourselves. Some are foolish, most don’t work—but a bit of clicking metal saved my dad’s life. I can always hear it ticking away, a tiny pulse to keep Dad breathing. “I don’t want cake,” he grumbles. I don’t miss his glance toward his growing belly. “Well, tell me what you do want, Dad. A new watch or—” “Mare, I do not consider something you stole off someone’s wrist to be new.” Before another war can brew in the Barrow house, Mom pulls the stew off the stove. “Dinner is served.” She brings it to the table, and the fumes wash over me. “It smells great, Mom,” Gisa lies. Dad is not so tactful and grimaces at the meal. Not wanting to be shown up, I force down some stew. It’s not as bad as usual, to my pleasant surprise. “You used that pepper I brought you?” Instead of nodding and smiling and thanking me for noticing, she flushes and doesn’t answer. She knows I stole it, just like all my gifts. Gisa rolls her eyes over her soup, sensing where this is going. You’d think by now I’d be used to it, but their disapproval wears on me. Sighing, Mom lowers her face into her hands. “Mare, you know I appreciate— I just wish—” I finish for her. “That I was like Gisa?” Mom shakes her head. Another lie. “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant.” “Right.” I’m sure they can sense my bitterness on the other side of the village. I try my best to keep my voice from breaking. “It’s the only way I can help out before—before I go away.” Mentioning the war is a quick way to silence my house. Even Dad’s wheezing stops. Mom turns her head, her cheeks flushing red with anger. Under the table, Gisa’s hand closes around mine. “I know you’re doing everything you can, for the right reasons,” Mom whispers. It takes a lot for her to say this, but it comforts me all the same. I keep my mouth shut and force a nod. Then Gisa jumps in her seat, like she’s been shocked. “Oh, I almost forgot. I stopped at the post on the way back from Summerton. There was a letter from Shade.” It’s like setting off a bomb. Mom and Dad scramble, reaching for the dirty envelope Gisa pulls out of her jacket. I let them pass it over, examining the paper. Neither can read, so they glean whatever they can from the paper itself. Dad sniffs the letter, trying to place the scent. “Pine. Not smoke. That’s good. He’s away from the Choke.” We all breathe a sigh of relief at that. The Choke is the bombed-out strip of land connecting Norta to the Lakelands, where most of the war is fought. Soldiers spend the majority of their time there, ducking in trenches doomed to explode or making daring pushes that end in a massacre. The rest of the border is mainly lake, though in the far north it becomes tundra too cold and barren to fight over. Dad was injured at the Choke years ago, when a bomb dropped on his unit. Now the Choke is so destroyed by decades of battle, the smoke of explosions is a constant fog and nothing can grow there. It’s dead and gray, like the future of the war. He finally passes the letter over for me to read, and I open it with great anticipation, both eager and afraid to see what Shade has to say. Dear family, I am alive. Obviously. That gets a chuckle out of Dad and me, and even a smile from Gisa. Mom is not as amused, even though Shade starts every letter like this. We’ve been called away from the front, as Dad the Bloodhound has probably guessed. It’s nice, getting back to the main camps. It’s Red as the dawn up here, you barely even see the Silver officers. And without the Choke smoke, you can actually see the sun rise stronger every day. But I won’t be in for long. Command plans to repurpose the unit for lake combat, and we’ve been assigned to one of the new warships. I met a medic detached from her unit who said she knew Tramy and that he’s fine. Took a bit of shrapnel retreating from the Choke, but he recovered nicely. No infection, no permanent damage. Mom sighs aloud, shaking her head. “No permanent damage,” she scoffs. Still nothing about Bree but I’m not worried. He’s the best of us, and he’s coming up on his five-year leave. He’ll be home soon, Mom, so stop your worrying. Nothing else to report, at least that I can write in a letter. Gisa, don’t be too much of a show-off even though you deserve to be. Mare, don’t be such a brat all the time, and stop beating up that Warren boy. Dad, I’m proud of you. Always. Love all of you. Your favorite son and brother, Shade. Like always, Shade’s words pierce through us. I can almost hear his voice if I try hard enough. Then the lights above us suddenly start to whine. “Did no one put in the ration papers I got yesterday?” I ask before the lights flicker off, plunging us into darkness. As my eyes adjust, I can just see Mom shaking her head. Gisa groans. “Can we not do this again?” Her chair scrapes as she stands up. “I’m going to bed. Try not to yell.” But we don’t yell. Seems to be the way of my world—too tired to fight. Mom and Dad retreat to their bedroom, leaving me alone at the table. Normally I’d slip out, but I can’t find the will to do much more than go to sleep. I climb up yet another ladder to the loft, where Gisa is already snoring. She can sleep like no other, dropping off in a minute or so, while it can sometimes take me hours. I settle into my cot, content to simply lie there and hold Shade’s letter. Like Dad said, it smells strongly of pine. The river sounds nice tonight, tripping over stones in the bank as it lulls me to sleep. Even the old fridge, a rusty battery-run machine that usually whines so hard it hurts my head, doesn’t trouble me tonight. But then a birdcall interrupts my descent into sleep. Kilorn. No. Go away. Another call, louder this time. Gisa stirs a little, rolling over into her pillow. Grumbling to myself, hating Kilorn, I roll out of my cot and slide down the ladder. Anyone else would have tripped over the clutter in the main room, but I have great footing thanks to years of running from officers. I’m down the stilt ladder in a second, landing ankle-deep in the mud. Kilorn is waiting, appearing out of the shadows beneath the house. “I hope you like black eyes because I have no problem giving you one for this—” The sight of his face stops me short. He’s been crying. Kilorn does not cry. His knuckles are bleeding too, and I bet there’s a wall hurting just as hard somewhere nearby. In spite of myself, in spite of the late hour, I can’t help but feel concerned, even scared for him. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Without thinking, I take his hand in mine, feeling the blood beneath my fingers. “What happened?” He takes a moment to respond, working himself up. Now I’m terrified. “My master—he fell. He died. I’m not an apprentice anymore.” I try to hold in a gasp, but it echoes anyway, taunting us. Even though he doesn’t have to, even though I know what he’s trying to say, he continues. “I hadn’t even finished training and now—” He trips over his words. “I’m eighteen. The other fishermen have apprentices. I’m not working. I can’t get work.” The next words are like a knife in my heart. Kilorn draws a ragged breath, and somehow I wish I wouldn’t have to hear him. “They’re going to send me to the war.”

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Will Red Queen be made into a movie?? The outlook is good! I think this book has the potential to make an excellent movie, and I'd definitely line up to see it. Victoria Aveyard talks about it below...

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Victoria Aveyard is an author and screenwriter, born and raised in a small town in Western Massachusetts. Both her parents are public school teachers, as well as avid film, television, and literature fans. Victoria grew up on a steady diet The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Harry Potter, and LOST. She pursued a degree in Writing for Film & Television at the University of Southern California's School of Cinematic Arts. After graduating college in 2012, Victoria moved home from Los Angeles and began writing the manuscript that would become Red Queen. She has since published three #1 New York Times bestselling and USA Today bestselling books, two New York Times bestselling novellas, and continues pursuing her writing career while living full-time in Los Angeles, California. The Red Queen series is currently being translated into 37 languages and counting. To learn more about Victoria Aveyard and her books, visit her website.You can also find her on Goodreads, Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, and Twitter.

#victoria aveyard #red queen #teaser #original teaser #young adult #book review #dystopian #science fiction #romance #excerpt #playing catch up

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