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i-am-thornqueen · 10 months

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Lord Jacques

I'm back on my backstory bullshit again, folks! This time, it's a little cut scene from The Monsters of Paris chapter 18, showing what happened when Adrien went into the coffeehouse to get plates.

It's a little more enrichment into the world of A Werecat in London/The Monsters of Paris, for those who would be interested. It will likely be incomprehensible to everyone else.

Bells tinkled cheerfully above the coffeehouse front door as Adrien stepped into the shop.

He’d been here once before during the daylight hours, when sunshine had poured through the windows. The small tables scattered around the seating area had been full; customers and coffee connoisseurs had filled the room with steady conversation, or otherwise quietly kept their own company while sipping a cup of their preferred drink. Coffee in all its possible incarnations had filled the air – roasted beans, freshly ground, cups of steaming coffee richly bitter and black as sin.

Now, in the early hours of the evening, the place was deserted.

Worried, Adrien quickly backtracked to make sure the place was open. It was, with a notice pinned to the door that special extended hours would be observed for Mabon; customers had until four in the morning to get their caffeine fix, after which the shop would be closed for a day and reopen at normal hours thereafter.

Reassured he wasn’t unintentionally committing a case of breaking and entering, Adrien wandered back in.

That bright and welcoming atmosphere he’d known in the daylight was absent now. The lights had dimmed to a low, grey haze that was at odds with the golden glow filling the market outside. Shadows stretched long and dark along the walls, gathering in corners to form impenetrable pockets of Stygian blackness. Distant strains of classical music faded in and out from somewhere in the back of the shop, tinny and disconcertingly off-tune, as if playing from a broken radio.

Adrien shivered, chafing his arms absently. Instead of turning the heat on to chase away the autumn chill, the air was cold and damp like someone was running an air conditioner at full blast. An unpleasant musty odour hung in the air, underpinning the expected aroma of coffee.

“Hello?” He looked down one end of the front counter, then the other. “Is anyone here? I was hoping that I could use some of your plates.”

Silence, aside the discordant music continuing to play from beyond the swinging door set behind the front counter.

Adrien turned to look over his shoulder, seeing his friends gathered within the safety and warmth of the market. He wished he was out there with them. They didn’t need plates that badly. Who said you couldn’t eat a baked apple with only your fingers?

He barely managed a step toward the exit when he heard the swinging door creak behind him.

“Hi, sorry to bother you, but do you...?” Adrien stopped up short and blinked. There was no one, though the door behind the counter still swung silently. The hair on the back of his neck rose, awareness prickling. Someone was in the room with him. “Hello? I know you’re there.”

The sudden shriek of metal across the floor nearly made him jump out of his skin.

A stool pushed its way down the narrow aisle behind the counter, stopping directly across from Adrien. He heard four legs clatter unsteadily as a body climbed up the side. A black-haired head appeared, followed by an expressionless grey face, and finally the rest of the body dressed in raggedy antique clothing, no taller than a child.

Void black eyes stared unblinkingly, endless and empty, set into a face like a haunted porcelain doll’s. It was cracked like a doll’s, too – a severe shatter scar forked out from its right temple, beginning where a single, small blue horn emerged.

A demon.

Adrien’s mind raced, hand flying to his dormant Miraculous. The more humanoid the demon, the greater the portion of a heart it had eaten out of a human. This one had the humanoid shape down. The darkness that radiated from him was not on the same level of choking, strangling dread that came from a Prince. Not a Duke, either. A Marquis, then. Still a high-ranking demon, powerful and dangerous, not a creature anyone would ever want to be standing alone in a room with.

The demon made the first move, raising its right arm at the elbow with a ratcheting motion to fold its forearm across its torso. With the same slow ticking movement, he bowed forward as deeply as allowed while sitting on a stool.

“Your Majesty.” The voice echoed faintly, hollow as an empty cathedral.

Adrien steeled himself, though he knew not for what – a confrontation or a conversation?

The demon clockwork ticked itself back into an upright sitting position and stared silently, showing no signs of aggression. Not that that told Adrien anything of the creatures intentions. Demons wouldn’t – no, couldn’t – show signs of aggression. Or anything else, for that matter. Without a heart, they felt nothing.

If this demon wanted to attack, it could do so without any prior warning.

Adrien’s only assurance was that he was being recognized at the host for Destruction, the recognized King of Demons, which meant he was safe unless the demon had a sincere death wish.

“Do you-” Adrien cleared his throat, finding it uncomfortably dry. “Do you work here?”

More staring.

“Uh, is there someone else here I can talk to?”

Blink.

“Okay, I don’t need plates that badly...” Adrien turned to pretend he’d seen nothing, heard nothing, and had no intention of speaking of this incident ever again.

“You may have plates with purchase.”

He spun back around, but the demon hadn’t moved. Adrien wandered up to the counter, closer to the being whose monochromatic colouring made him look like he’d walked out of an old black and white television. The only splash of colour anywhere to be seen was his blue horn, marking it as a demon who’d fed on the bone-deep, soul-rotting misery within someone’s heart before it bloomed into a physical being.

Standing so close to the demon, the air was much colder. Cold in so many ways more than simply temperature, as if life itself were being drained from the air. Lights were less bright. Sounds were muffled. Dampness seeped through Adrien’s clothes, sank into his bones. The scent of decay was more pronounced – the smell of forgotten places left to moulder, wood rot of felled ancient trees, cemetery soil full of bodies and worms. Scents that clung to the inside of Adrien’s nose, slid down his throat with the physical sensation of slime.

Adrien noticed that someone had pinned a name tag to the lapels of its threadbare waistcoat. ‘Lord Jacques’ it said, nothing more.

“Jacques, sweetheart, the fridge is on the fritz again. Can you come stand in here to keep things cold? I moved the milk to the top shelf so you don’t curdle it this time.”

A human voice, painfully normal with all the right inflections of a living, feeling person, drifted out from the backroom. A woman, by the sounds of things. Possibly an insane one, if she was summoning a demon with such an endearment.

Lord Jacques sat as still as a doll.

Adrien leaned over the counter. “Excuse me? Is someone back there?”

“Oh!” There came a fluster of movement and calls of apologies for not hearing the bells go off.

Moments later, a tired looking woman in her fifties came bustling through the swinging door, prematurely grey hair tangled back in a knot, a brown apron embroidered with cheerful coffee cups tied around her waist. There were purple half-moons under her eyes, standing out starkly against the ashen cast of her skin. She had a look about her of someone who’d been unwell for a very long time.

She stopped dead upon seeing Adrien standing so close to Lord Jacques, the stiffness in his stance giving away the fact that he could see the demon perfectly well.

To her credit, she straightened her spine and stuck out her nervous chin. “M-may I help you?”

Adrien pointed across the counter. “Madame, you know that’s a demon, right?”

“Yes, I know. He’s not hurting anyone, though.”

Lord Jacques, still facing forward unmoving, said, “She is my Mother.”

Adrien cranked his head around. “Your-?” He looked back at the woman. “He bloomed from you?”

She cringed on the spot, wringing her apron.

“I ate her heart,” Lord Jacques said in his hauntingly empty voice, then ticked his head around to stare at his Mother. “He is His Majesty.”

From how quickly she gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth, she knew exactly what the demon meant. Who he was referring to. Oddly, a terror that Adrien rarely saw in civilian eyes when looking at him flared to life in hers. What little healthy colour was left in her face drained away into a waxy, pallid mask. Her steps were mechanical as she forced herself to walk closer to the counter, ever so slightly moving her shoulder so as to partially block Lord Jacques with her body.

Without taking her eyes off of Adrien, she said, “Jacques, please go out back and look after the fridge. I will take care of the customer.”

Jacques turned and dropped from the stool, making no noise as he disappeared into the backroom.

The moment he was gone, the air warmed slightly until it was only vaguely uncomfortable – no longer thick enough to feel like a film clinging to the skin. Light from outside spilled in a little more brightly, adding a sense of comfort that had not existed with a demon draining it from the air. Jacques took the smell of rot with him, restoring the coffeehouse’s original scent profile.

Adrien continued to stare at the nameless woman before him. “He’s killing you.”

She jerked her gaze away. “I know.”

“I can exorcise him, if you want.”

“Please, don’t. I don’t want him destroyed.” She swallowed thickly. “It... it hurts less when he’s here.”

Loathe to pry, but feeling like it was his job to do so, Adrien very carefully asked, "What do you mean?"

One hand curled into a fist in her shirt, over her already partially devoured heart. She took her time gathering her thoughts.

Adrien was prepared to wait. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long.

“Not... not that you need to know this, but when I lost my daughter, I thought that was it. I lost the will to live; I knew I was going to die. But then I didn't. Jacques ate the worst of the misery away, enough that I could function again, live again."

Enacting the main purpose of a demon - to eat away at that which rots a human heart before it can become diseased and infect other humans. Despair that paralyzes. Rage that consumes. Hate that poisons. Demons served in the capacity of detritivores, a darkly awful but necessary evil.

"When he bloomed, all the feelings came back – smaller and fainter than before, but it was all still there. I couldn't handle it. I asked him to stay, traded what was left of my heart for the chance to know peace for as long as it takes for him to eat the rest of me.”

“That’s not peace. It’s numbness.”

“I don’t care what it is.”

Adrien opened his mouth, only to find that words had deserted him.

“I don’t have much time left. I’m doing what I can to protect him – I’m sure you’ve noticed that Prince Clopin’s been subsuming every freehold demon he can get his hands on into his Court. After I’m gone, Jacques can choose if he wants to join the Court of Miracles or go his own way. Until then, he stays here.” The woman notched her chin a shaky inch higher. “Now, what can I get for you?”

Adrien numbly pointed at whatever scones and pastries were closest to him in the nearby display case, enough to qualify him for the six plates he’d originally come in to get. He ordered drinks as well, hot mulled apple cider being the current special for the day – Mabon only.

Ready to be done with him, the woman grabbed everything as fast as humanly possible and piled it haphazardly onto a tray. She shoved utensils into Adrien’s hands and stuffed napkins into the crook of his arm. She’d bring his drinks out to him as soon as they were ready.

Precariously piled with a mountain of nonsense that could come tumbling down with one wrong move, Adrien slowly made his way to the door. His hands weren't free, forcing him to turn around to push at the door with his back. Doing so put him facing the woman again, who watched him with sad, condemned eyes.

“He’s not staying because he loves you, you know,” he murmured, knowing that it was a cruel but necessary truth. “He can’t love you. He stays because you’re a convenient food source.”

“There’s no guarantee that any child will ever love their parent.” The corners of her lips lifted in a heartbreaking, helpless smile. “At least this way, I don’t have to wonder.”

With nothing left to say, she turned away from him to begin preparing his ordered apple cider.

Adrien forced himself to turn away and leave the woman to her fate.

#a werecat in london #the monsters of paris #ficlet #a tie-in to the main stories #not necessary to read to understand the main story #but this offers a peek at something we didn't see in chapter 18 #for those who read it #i hope you enjoy it

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dead-girl-tells-stories · 4 months

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DP x DC Prompt: The Watchlist

Batman has a watchlist. A list that contains every individual who could become a rouge and a contingency plan for if they did.

And while they, his children, often make fun of his paranoia and him for having it, they totally understand why he did. They lived in Gotham, for Christ's sake. Where everyone’s just a pin drop away from being the city’s next big villain, forcing the bats to scratch their heads while playing cat and mouse with a sicko for a good few weeks. And while they won’t admit it, the list has helped them a few times.

But that won’t stop them from making fun of any of the list’s new developments. Because you see, there was a new list. And it wasn’t just a watchlist. No, no, no. It was The Watchlist.

It was a new development after he and Robin went on an out-of-state mission to investigate some town in bum fuck nowhere Illinois. And it was under some pretty tight security as well, so they were expecting something good, like mad scientists or evil mayors. Not profiles of the kids who lived in the town. And while there were a few metas and vigilantes that made the list interesting, by the end of it all they just seemed to be teenagers.

Until they saw Damian. They hadn’t seen him since he came back from the mission with B. He looked tired. Like ‘Tim hasn’t slept in a week and is surviving on just coffee beans’ tired.

“Ah, I see you all have found it. Good. A few of them will be arriving next week as they’re a part of Gotham Academy’s student exchange program. At least three of them will be staying in the manor with us. Father will need you all to be on standby and to be ready for any possible scenario. Please, for the love of all that is good, do not encourage them in any way, shape, or form. And please do not dismiss them either. The outcome of doing that will be much worse. Is there more that I should add? Yes. Will I? No, because you won’t understand. Not until you've seen what I have.”

The demon child sighed, then looked them dead in the eyes. “Godspeed to us all.” Then walked away.

Okay, they were scared now.

#dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dp x dc prompt #dp dc crossover #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #Batman and Robin went to Amity Park to investigate two mad scientists who were dealing with Lazuars waters #and instead #witness teenagers dealing with The Horrors (tm) like it was an everyday thing #because for them it is #Bruce KNOWS that the moment any of these kids crack its the end of the world as they know it #i like to think that all the kids are liminals and have powers but some aren't out about it as others #Danny knows that there's an outside entity in Amity but they don't seem hostile #protective even #so he leaves them be #i'm honestly not too sure what the profiles would look like #but i do know that they would look pretty normal until you either read into them too much #or was there to witness the shit he has witness #he's scared of those kids #but also want to protect/save them #cause the GIW still exist #and while not bad parents Fentons they aren't really good either #none of the parents are tbh

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