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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

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Mr. Self Destruct 3

Part One Part Two

Warnings: Bucky’s a bastard, control, PTSD and other lovely mental issues, noncon (oral, toyplay, restraints, vaginal and anal sex)

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Bucky has been left by his closest friend. With no other choice, he works for Stark Industries in the name of both Stark and Rogers but before he can begin his new position, he is mandated to attend counselling. With you, the company’s resident therapist.

Note: I’m just taking a break from Tapestry for a day or two. I wanted to finish this little series first. This is just all the kink and darkness so enjoy. Love you all.

Anyway :) Please like, reply, and/or reblog if you read.

Bucky didn’t show the next day. Even as you finished up with your last patient and waited around an hour. You laughed at yourself sardonically after you’d sat back and realized what you were waiting for. You expected to find him in your bedroom again but he wasn’t there either. He was definitely in control. Not just of the sessions, but your life.

It was the day after when he came around. Your last appointment was at three and you were free by four. You didn’t think to linger. You pulled on your jacket and grabbed your bag. You left behind your leather folder. You wanted to hide for as long as you could. Just until he came to haunt you again.

He was there in the lobby. You spotted him the moment you stepped off the elevator and he saw you too. You could tell he’d been expecting you. You tried to act as if you hadn’t seen him but there was no pretending with him. He reached the front doors before you and blocked the revolving escape. You slid to a halt on your wedged boots.

“It’s shitty out,” He said. “You need a ride?”

“No,” You glanced past him. “I’ll catch a train.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like a question.” He chuckled. “We’ve got a stop to make before we hit your little hole.”

“And if I refuse? Huh? You gonna hit me in front of all these people? You gonna drag me out kicking and screaming?”

“I won’t have to do that.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “One minute, let me turn the sound off here.”

He flicked his finger across the screen before he turned it to you. You watched yourself on the screen, the uneven angle as the lens peeked out above a stretch of fabric; likely his pocket. It was you with your little silver bullet against your clit. The camera got closer and only your moans could be heard as the focus blurred between your bodies, the flash of his vibranium hand blocked it.

“Seems unprofessional to me,” He smirked. “I think Happy might agree. Maybe the licensing board too.”

You stared at him and reached to zip up your thick jacket. You nodded to him and pushed away his phone. “Just...let’s go.”

He leaned in as he tucked the phone away, “Good girl.” He slithered and your skin crawled.

He backed away and waved you after him. You sighed and followed as he led you to another door. This one led to the attached garage along the side of the tower. He didn’t wait but strolled decisively through it and down the steps to the tarmac. You held the rail as your boots threatened to catch on the stairs.

A dark blue car chirped as he neared it and he opened the door. He dropped inside and you pulled open the passenger side door as he turned the engine. You slipped your bag in front of the seat as you sat and shut the door with a click. He backed out of his spot before you even had a chance to do up your seat belt.

“Can I ask where we’re going?” You ventured.

“You can,” He kept one hand on the wheel as he leaned casually on the console. “But you won’t have your answer til we get there.”

You bit down and lowered your chin. He was drawing it out as long as he could. Whatever he had planned. Whatever new humiliation he had devised. And you had no choice but to bear it. To feed from the hand that would close around your throat and choke the life from you. And if that failed, it would wrought the destruction of the little you held dear.

You kept your eyes down as he drove. The city was pale and lifeless as winter descended upon the fluorescent giants. The street lights loomed over the sidewalks and the mailboxes formed little hills beneath the snowy blanket. You touched your forehead as your vision blurred. The grim vision of the urban sprawl made it all too real.

When he pulled into the small plaza, you were confused. The little convenience store that advertised the lotto jackpot and Marlboro's was nothing special and you doubted he was taking you to the small Vietnamese eatery for dinner. Your eyes found the darkened shop nestled in the corner; a red sign flashing above XXX. No way.

“Out,” He turned off the car as he reached for the door handle. “Stop dragging your ass. I’d like to be out of this shit before it’s past my ankle.”

You climbed out of the car but forgot your bag on the floor. You tucked your hands in your pockets as the flakes gathered in your hair. He rounded the front of the car and whistled to you like a dog as he marched to the tinted windows of the sex shop. You shook your head and trailed after him.

You caught the door behind him and let it close heavily. You looked around at the mannequins in lingerie, the silicon and rubber toys lined along the shelves, and the explicit covers of porno DVDs. A woman with bright red hair greeted you from behind the counter and Bucky returned her cheerful hello. You stayed quiet and followed him.

You weren’t a prude but the last time you’d been to place like this was with your ex-husband. Nothing special, some lube and a cockring for him. You had mulled over a leather garter with studs but left empty-handed. A pathetic attempt to revive a dead relationship.

Bucky grabbed a mesh basket from the stack next to the counter and led you to the wall, though he seemed to have forgotten about you. He tilted his head at the vibes and narrowed his eyes.

“I doubt you need anymore,” He scoffed.

He moved on and stopped sharply at the next display. He unhooked a leather crop and waved it through the air. He dropped it in the basket and you stared at its handle sticking out. He grabbed another item; a leather collar and matching leash, and added some straps to slip beneath a mattress.

“Bucky…” You said quietly as you grabbed the basket. “You don’t want to do this.”

He grinned and licked his bottom lip as he turned to you. “You don’t know what I want but I can show you.” His blue eyes bore into you. “You want me to deal with my control issues, this is how I deal, doc. And beneath all your repression, I know you want it. Your top drawer can’t hide it.”

You cringed and threw your hands up. “Call it therapy but it’s not that. This isn’t coping, this isn’t addressing the issue, this is feeding it. It won’t help.”

“You’re off the clock, doc,” He carried on along the shelf. “Give it up.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head. You tried to avoid looking at the toys, instead focusing on the price tags; pretended it was a grocery store or anywhere else. You looked up as he grab a set of plugs and quickly lowered your gaze again. He stopped and turned back to you.

“You wanna pick out some lube,” He still had the plugs in his hand; a kit, smallest to largest. “You’ll thank me for it later.”

He dropped them in the basket with the rest and spun back to the merchandise. You took a deep breath and glanced around. You crossed to the pyramid display of lubes; hot and cold, flavoured, scented, sensitive skin… The red-haired woman grinned at you as you peeked over at you and you smiled shyly and turned back to the oils.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” She asked as she neared.

“No, I… I have a sensitive ecosystem,” You offered. “Don’t really know what to pick.”

“Something water-based,” She advised as she reached to the rack. “This stuff’s good. It’s flavoured but shouldn’t cause any issues.” She smirked and looked over as Bucky scratched his head before a shelf of dildos. “Does he prefer sweets?”

“I guess,” You answered softly. “I’ll just take the strawberry. Everyone likes strawberry, right?”

“He seems open to a lot,” She commented. “You get half-off this brand with the plugs anyways.”

“Oh, thanks,” You grabbed the strawberry lube and smiled.

You parted from the nosy cashier and crossed to Bucky as he moved onto the back corner. He turned and caught your hand before you could drop the bottle in the basket. He wrestled it from your grip and read the label.

“Mmm, strawberry.” He remarked as he let it fall with the rest of his haul.

You wanted to cover your face and curl into a ball. You were mortified. He stopped before the mannequin in a strappy leather number with no real coverage. Tits out and everything else; ass framed by the thick straps. He raised his brows as he admired it.

“Find your size,” He pointed to it. “I know you’re probably more a lace woman but I think this will be...fun.”

He didn’t wait for a response. You sifted through the stack of plastic wrapped lingerie and fished out your size. You caught up to him again and he took it from you without a glance. He led you to the counter and plopped the basket on it.

The red-head began to scan each item at a time and filled a big black bag with them. Bucky tapped his gloved fingers on the counter as he waited. She smiled between you. “Special occasion?”

“You could say that,” Bucky answered.

The woman giggled and hit total. Bucky reached for his wallet and swiped his card. He seemed unfazed by the exorbitant amount he’d just spent on sex toys. He took his receipt and his bag with a smile and a thanks. He grabbed your arm and pulled you close as he led you to the door.

“Now,” He said as he pulled open the door. “We’re ready.”

Bucky grabbed your keys from you as you walked up to your door. He unlocked it with one hand and ushered you inside with a point of his finger. You entered and he was close behind. You unzipped your coat as he set the bag aside and kicked off his boots. He hung his jacket over yours and you struggled to wiggle free of your own boots.

He grabbed the bag again and urged you onward. When you reached your bedroom, his patience had worn thin. He shoved you in and closed the door with his foot. He placed the bag on your dresser and stirred through the contents. He tossed the lingerie at you and looked to the bathroom door.

“Go on, I’ll get it all ready.” He said. You didn’t wait for him to tell you twice.

You hid behind the door and stripped yourself slowly. You could hear him moving around on the other side. It took you several tries to untangle the straps and when you were certain it was correct, you stared down at your body. The straps were set in triangles around your tits and crisscrossed down to your crotch; another exposed vee. Your ass was propped up by the leather and you twisted as you tried to see it.

A rap of knuckles on the door and you swallowed. You opened it and Bucky raised a brow as he nodded over his shoulder.

“Go on.” He ordered and you stepped past him.

He grabbed the bag of toys and as you stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. He went into the bathroom and the sink cranked on. The straps had been secured, the leash was laid out, and only your bottom sheet remained on the mattress. Your head spun.

“Your ass looks great in that,” Bucky said. “Turn around.”

You turned and he looked you up and down. He neared and set his handful of toys on the night table. He stepped back and slipped his fingers beneath the straps along your shoulder. He rubbed them with his thumbs.

“Look at you, doc,” He purred. “You should start wearing this for our sessions.”

Your jaw tensed and you said nothing. He seemed amused by your visible irritation. He let go and reached for the leash strewn on the bed. He unbuckled the collar and spun back to you. You braced yourself as he wrapped it around your neck and secured it there. He tugged on the leash and you winced.

“Even better.” He let the leash hang limp and backed away as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Go on and get on your knees.”

You did as he said. You almost fell over as you did and stared at the carpet as he unzipped his fly. You listened to the rustle of his clothing. When he neared, he was entirely naked and it took all your strength to look up at him. He bent and grabbed the leashed again.

“Come on,” He pulled and you fell forward onto your hands. He snickered and led you around the room. You moved stiffly; thoroughly embarrassed. A literal dog. “It was like Pavlov. I know you’ve heard of him. They had words that they conditioned me with. Like sit.” He motioned and you lowered your ass. “Good girl.”

You trembled in anger. He wrapped the leash around his hand and pulled you closer. “Up. On your knees.” He yanked until you were almost against him. His cock bobbed before you. “Go on and get your bone, doggy.”

You glared at him and he thrust so that his cock poked you in the face. You flinched and lowered your eyes. You parted your lips and poked your tongue out to drag it along his length. You swirled around his tip and he twitched. You covered the head of his cock with your lips. His other hand went to your head and pushed you further.

He hit the back of your throat and you gagged. You barely fought it back as he forced himself deeper until your lips were against his pelvis. You reached to grip his thighs as you struggled to breathe. He relented but quickly crashed back into you. You slapped at him and clawed at his thick muscles. Your loud gulps filled your ears and added to the churning of your stomach.

He moved his hips in time with your head. He fucked your mouth steadily as his groans floated from him. He was like an animal, rutting into you faster and faster. He was fed by the noises of your distress; his power over you. Your body was his to use as they had his.

He sank as deep as he could as his thrusts slowed. He spasmed and grunted. A carnal growl. He came down your throat as your head swelled from lack of air. He held himself at his limit until he was done. He tore you off of him, your leash taut as he kept you from slumping over. His cum dripped from your lips with your spit.

He yanked you up to your feet and dragged his thumb through the mess along your chin. His hand slipped down and stretched over the collar. He unhooked the leash and let it fall to the floor. He backed you up until your knees met the bed.

He shoved you and you fell onto the bed with a bounce. He climbed up after you and pulled on you until you moved. He shoved your wrist into a restraint and secured it tightly. He did the other and then your ankles. He knelt between your legs and tweaked your nipples roughly. You whimpered and he snarled in delight.

He reached to the night stand and grabbed the bottle of lube. He squirted the cool oil between your legs and shoved his fingers down to spread it along your folds. He lifted a brow as he found you wet. He chuckled.

“Oh, doc, you can’t hide it. Not from me.” He continued to rub you and you tried not to squirm. “Maybe that’s the problem, hmm? Did you hold back with the husband? That why he left?”

You bit your lip and looked away from him.

“All you wanted to do was talk but you sure are quiet now,” He taunted and dipped his fingers inside of you.

“He held back,” You snapped. “I left him, okay?” You tried to close your legs but couldn’t move against the restraints. “Cause he didn’t wanna fuck me anymore.”

“Good riddance, then.”

He pulled his hand away and leaned over to grab the dildo he’d chosen from the bunch. It was big and thicker than any you owned. He placed it against you and slowly pushed inside. You gritted your teeth as it stretched you. He stopped as it filled you entirely and you gasped.

Slowly, he began to work it in and out of you. You gripped the straps as your body tensed and your breath hitched. He sped up as he sensed your pleasure mount. As you desperately fought against it. As the moans escaped you and betrayed you to him. Soon, he was slamming the dildo into you as your voice rose without thought.

You came with a curse. You squeezed your eyes shut but could sense his satisfaction. He gloated as he continued to fuck you with the toy. The squelching filled the room and your head. He stopped and let the toy slip out on its own.

“When you did fuck,” The bed shifted as he spoke. “Was it boring? Did he even try?”

“I… Early on, he did. And then, I guess he just didn’t care so long as he came.” You said quietly.

You’d never told anyone the true troubles of your marriage. You’d fed them all the excuse of too much time apart for work and too many differences. It was all true but the lack of intimacy was the worst of it.

“And did you ever…” He paused and you opened your eyes. He held up a plug and your mouth fell open. “Try anything… new?”

“No,” You said as you eyed the toy. “No, please, I never…”

“We’re starting small,” He coaxed. “Tell me you didn’t divorce that moron to fuck yourself with that pathetic bullet every night.”

You stayed quiet as he undid your binds one at a time. He turned you over and you didn’t offer much resistance. Couldn’t. He was too strong. As he strapped you down on your stomach, you raised your head.

“Are you… recording this too?” You asked as you tried to look at him behind you.

“If I am, it’ll be for my own pleasure,” He assured you. “But I already have more than enough footage, doc.”

Your dropped your head back to the mattress and huffed. His knees pressed against you thighs and a cool trickle seeped between your cheeks. He spread it with his metal fingers and circle your tight ring. It tickled and you flinched. He pushed against your hole and slowly his finger stretched you.

He drew his finger in and out several times as you hissed. It hurt but it wasn’t an unbearable pain. Something about it was delicious and you hungered for more. He shoved another finger inside and you dug your nails into the sheet. You grunted as he played with you.

He pulled out and for a moment, silence. The cap of the lube flicked and you felt a new pressure against your ring. Harder, colder. He pushed the plug in little by little. You whined until he had it in entirely and your ring closed around the stem. You head lolled back and forth as you moaned.

“I always knew you were a tight ass, doc,” He slapped your ass with his metal hand and you yelped.

You felt the straps slacken around your ankles and he lifted your hips. He pushed his thighs under yours and his cock poked along your vee. He reached between your legs and rubbed his tip against your folds. He entered you easily. Your walls welcomed him as he sank into you completely.

“Doc, my god,” He groaned. “Shit. He missed out, didn’t he?”

He thrust and you moaned. He did it again and you moaned. Again. Each time he did it, you couldn’t hold back. You couldn’t stifle the sheer pleasure of being so full. And then he wiggled the plug as he fucked you. You’d never felt anything so intense.

The sparks began to spit from your core and seared along your flesh. With each rock of his hips, you grew louder and his hips moved faster. Your back arched as he continued to toy with the plug inside you and his other hand slid down your back. He spread his fingers across your back and held you down.

He pulled the plug out and you gasped. He was quick to fumble around and grab another. He pushed inside and you let out a series of pathetic mewls. It was bigger than the last. You slowly adjusted to it though it hurt all the same.

He grunted with each plunge. Your panting mingled with his and your bodies sang a carnal tune. You could hear it all; the friction, the wetness, the sheer animalism. You came again but couldn’t even cry out as your eyes rolled back. You drooled onto the sheet as the bed jolted below you.

He came too. And he didn’t pull out. You didn’t care as the ripples washed over you. He slowed and exhaled loudly as he leaned back on his heels. He slapped your ass again as he pulled out. His cum leaked from you.

He backed up and dropped your hips back to the bed. He took the dildo and lined it up with your entrance. He slammed it into you and you yiped. He held it there and grabbed the end of the plug with his other hand. Slowly, he slipped it out of you as your ring stretched around it. The emptiness was both a relief and a disappointment.

And then he pulled the dildo out too. He lined himself up with your hole and you tugged at your binds. “No, no…” You whispered. “Please. It’s too much.”

He stretched you around his tip as he ignored your pleas. He pulled back and pushed back in. He repeated the motion several times, each time, pushing further in. He sank down entirely as he spread his body over yours and you exclaimed. Your eyes were singed by sudden tears.

“Bucky!” You cried. “Jesus fuck, get off of me.”

“Shhh.” He covered your mouth with his hand as he reached out with his other arm. “We both know you want this. You want to be controlled.”

He thrust and you squealed into his hand. His other snaked beneath you and you heard a click. The bullet buzzed against your stomach as he slid it lower. He pressed it to your bud as he ground against you. The vibrations flowed through you. His groans trickled through your veins like venom.

He held the vibe to you with his hand, his other clasped over your lips. You breathed frantically as he sped up. You closed your eyes as you body shook against your will. You came violently. The pure pleasure intertwined with an agony so sweet. You shuddered beneath him and it fed his fervour.

He removed his hand from your mouth and pulled his arm from beneath you. He left the bullet to roll beneath you, still buzzing. He planted his hands on either side of you and lifted his pelvis and slammed back into you. He did it over and over again, his flesh slapping loudly against yours. The pain reverberated through you.

He snarled and hissed. He balled the sheet up in his fist as his other went to your head. He pulled your head up and whispered in your ear. “This is what it felt like. I hated it and loved it all the same.”

He grabbed the back of your collar and curled your back as he dropped his hips. He fucked you into the mattress as the leather grew tighter and you gasped for breath. And you felt him cum. The current of warmth within was soothing. He slowed and rested his weight over you. He exhaled in your ear as he unhooked his fingers from the collar and stayed inside of you.

“Gee, doc,” He breathed. “I feel a lot better now.” He rolled his hips and you murmured. “A lot lighter.”

END

#mr self destruct #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #mcu #marvel #fic #short series #series #au #captain america

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bittersweetmelxdy · 5 years

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hi! loving your work. pls can I request a victor angst where MC thinks he hates her because she doesn’t understand his mean personality so she distances herself but he notices and goes after her

Title: I like your soul when it’s shirtlessPairing: Victor x MCNotes: Title taken from Take Off All Your Cool by Sabrina CarpenterWords: 2026

There were some days that production for a show took forever, whether it be a problem with the guests themselves, a series of bad takes, or even the weather halting production, there were definitely some shows you glad to be over with. This particular show however was not like that. You were doing a show in preparation for Loveland’s annual Skateboard tournament. So you had decided to interview the Home team and have them walk you through how the tournament worked and the preparation they make for it. An added bonus of the show was that the youngest rising star of the team, and the one your show was focused on in order to introduce a wider audience to the sport, was actually your cousin on your dad’s side of the family. You and he were particularly close, treating each other as siblings rather than cousins, and you were glad his talent was going to be recognised by a wide variety of viewers. You were down to the final days of shooting when you received an unannounced guest.

“Victor, what are you doing here?” you had spluttered out confused at his presence.

He and Goldman looked extremely out of place in their sharp suits compared to everyone else’s casual attire. You had told the staff to dress casually so that you wouldn’t look out of place during shooting, and looking at how strange formal wear was on set you were glad you had made the right decision.

“I came to see how the production was coming along.” He said nonchantly.

“Couldn’t you just wait for the final cut?”

“Then how would I know you know how to do your job properly?”

At his haughty attitude you huffed angrily and stormed off to the refreshments table before you said something you would come to regret. Whilst there your cousin was leaning against the table and handed you an opened bottle of water before opening one for himself.

“So who’s the guy in the suit.” He said casually, noticing your temper.

“Victor, he’s the CEO of LFG.” You spat.

“Wait the guy who keeps threatening to take away your investment?”

“One and the same.”

“Well for someone you say hates you, he does stare at you a lot.”

You choked on your water.

“Cody he does not stare at me.” You said between choked breaths.

Cody shrugged and gestured at Victor who quickly averted his gaze from the two of you.

“Think what you want, but he does stare pretty hard at you so he’s probably crushing on you, although I doubt it with your violent personality.” He teased.

“Cody!” you yelled in disbelief and whacked him with your water bottle.

“See violent!” Cody laughed as you too bickered until it was time to resume shooting.

Victor was seething, he may have only just come to terms with his feelings for you, but in no way did he needed to be educated by a child about them. First of all he had no idea why he was even on set today. It was true, there was a lot resting on this programme, but if he was being honest he had just wanted to see you, you’d only come to LFG for meetings and left as soon as it was over. So he decided to just go to set to see how everything’s going, with an added bonus being seeing you. Yet somehow, whenever you would talk to him it always felt like he had no control over what he was saying. Yes your pout and angry expressions were adorable, but he’d been seeing that since the day you two met, and if he was honest he wanted you to smile at him how you smiled around everyone else, like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds and brightening everything it touched. He mused that he could chalk it up to years of being around people who were always after something from him, so it became easier to don a mask whilst in the company of others in order to protect himself. It had only aided him thus far, pushing everyone away, but now the one person he wanted to see through his mask was also being pushed away. He sighed, he had been coming out of the restroom when he was blocked by one of the guests leaning against the wall and had placed his leg on the opposite wall, effectively blocking his way. Victor had stopped and waited for the child to lower their leg when they spoke,

“I don’t know what your deal is being so rude to her.” He had said not looking at Victor.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Victor had replied.

“She’s like sister to me, so yeah it is my business that some jerk is bothering her.” The child lowered his leg and turned to face Victor, making direct eye contact with him.

“Jerk?” Victor laughed mockingly “Listen kid, how I treat my employees has nothing to do with you.” He had then walked past them when the kids next statement stopped him in his tracks.

“You’re right, how you treat your employees is none of my business, but just saying from someone who’s known her all her life, if you do love her, you’re only causing her to hate you.” The child had then walked into the restroom, leaving Victor to seethe over his statement.

‘Was he more transparent than he realised when it comes to you?’

Somehow ever since Victor and Goldman had arrived, shooting was getting harder and harder. Problems you hadn’t encountered before suddenly just appeared. A lens broke during filming and you had to halt production whilst you sent someone to get a replacement, the ring light overheated and you had to wait for it to cool down, and people suddenly had a million and one questions to ask you. You were usually very on top of things during production but you could feel the panic clawing it’s way up your throat. You took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves and push the panic down before returning to set.

“Boss.” At least ten voices of your team called at the sight of you.

All their voices and questions blended into one cacophony of noise and you couldn’t take it anymore. You crouched on the floor balancing on the balls of your feet, and tried to get your breathing under control. Your head was pulsing with every heartbeat and it was only getting quicker and quicker, and louder and louder.

“Give her some space, she’s having a panic attack.” You could barely hear Cody’s voice over the pounding in your head. Your team knowing that sometimes you had them when overwhelmed immediately stepped back to give you the space you needed.

Tears sprang to your eyes and you forcibly tried to suppress them, swallowing them down in shallow breaths when a baritone voice cut through the noise completely.

“A more capable producer would been able to handle this.”

Your blood ran cold, then white hot, you stood up and forgot about the consequences of speaking out of anger, as you looked at Victor tears in your eyes and flushed in anger.

“How dare you! Everything was going just fine until you showed up and started insulting me Victor. If that’s all you know how to do, then why don’t you just leave?” you yelled, and then turned and walked out of the room muttering a quick “roof” at Cody before slamming the door behind you.

The slam of the door jolted Victor, and he felt oddly cold at your leaving. As if this time you weren’t going to come back on his direction again. The child who had confronted with outside the bathroom, rounded on him with a glare full of fire and he could admit he’d never been scared of a child, but he was then.

“Seriously is your head made of rock! Did nothing I said get through to you!” Cody yelled at Victor, fist clenched by his sides as if refraining them from using them.

“Listen I didn’t-“

“Save it I’m not the one you should explain yourself to.” Cody spat at him.

Victor sighed in defeat, “I don’t think she’d want to see me now.” His voice was quieter than usual reflected his inner turmoil.

Cody sighed, “I should really hit you, but she’d be mad at me. She’s on the rooftop, don’t let me regret telling you.”

Victor didn’t wait another moment, he ran from the room and waited for the elevator to slowly crawl its way down the various floors. Bouncing his leg, Victor realised that it would take too long and ran up the stairs until he reached the roof door. He panted for a minute trying to catch his breath before pushing the door open. You jumped at the sound of the door opening, and spun seeing Victor, and Victor’s heart almost broke at seeing the fear in your expression and the tears streaming down your face.

“Listen I just want to talk.” Victor said gently, taking tentative steps forwards, as if you were a deer he didn’t want to scare off.

You scoffed, “Haven’t you said enough.”

“I think I’ve said a whole load of words that have no meaning.” He mused as he joined you by the roof railing.

“I thought you were someone who didn’t “waste words unnecessarily”” you said, voice devoid of emotion, adding air quotes.

“So you do listen to what I tell you.”

“Isn’t that what got us here in the first place.”

Victor winced at the flat nature of your tone, he had thought that of he attempted to tease you would rise to the bait, but you hadn’t. Right now, Victor would rather you were screaming, crying, yelling even, anything was better than your cold emotionless tone.

“I didn’t-“

“Victor stop.” You interrupted, your voice wavering due to the onslaught of tears, “You made it perfectly clear time and time again how weak I am in your eyes, for once… Just. Stop.”

You then turned to leave the rooftop, your sanctuary having been invaded by the very person you were running from.

“I never called you weak.” Victor’s quiet voice interrupted your stride.

You spun around quickly, “What? Victor don’t lie to me. Not now.” Your voice wavered.

“I never called you weak, not once. I can call you a million things but never weak.” Victor walked determinedly towards you.

“Maybe not weak, but you always call me an idiot, so what am I supposed to think.”

“You are an idiot.” Victor stressed, and at your scoff he grabbed your forearms “My Idiot, I’m right here, just rely on me if you have problems, you don’t have to be strong on your own.”

“Don’t Victor.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t get my hopes up thinking you mean something more.” You pulled your arms from his grasp.

But Victor wasn’t going to let you go that easily, he grabbed your hands and pulled you back, so you tumbled into his chest your intertwined hands between each other.

“You are such a dummy.”

Victor leaned in and muffled any protest you could have given to that statement with a solid kiss on your lips. To you it felt like heavy rain after a month of drought, and to him it felt like time had stopped even though he wasn’t using his Evol. Pulling back slowly you both paused to catch your breath, and Victor’s eyes softened at the sight of your closed eyes and flushed face before your big bright eyes fluttered open to look at him with nothing but affection. Victor let go of your hands and enclosed you in his embrace, with your head resting on his chest listening to his rapid heartbeat.

“Still think I don’t mean it?”

Victor laughed as your response was to shake your head against his chest as a ‘no’, as you cried in relief. Victor pressed a few kisses to the top of your hair and rocked you until you calmed down, with the stars your only witnesses of both of your confessions.

#mlqc scenarios #mlqc #mlqc victor #mr love queen's choice

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clunelover · 4 years

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I’m going to attempt a cut because this may be my longest ever post

Okay here is the long post I’ve been writing and rewriting and adding to in my head:

I love my BFF. She’s wonderful and giving and insightful and funny and we’ve been through some Real Shit together, such as me getting evicted from our college apartment and dropping out of school due to my then-blossoming mental illness. Her realizing she is bisexual and trying to figure out what that meant for her life going forward, and then finding her now husband and planning a wedding while he had a mental health crisis and had to go to treatment (same as what I did but like up a level in intensity). At times she and I have been possibly too enmeshed. Okay. So, current challenges are based on a lot of backstory, some of which I’ve posted about on here before but not all:

Her now husband has been in treatment for mental health twice. Once around Thanksgiving before last, and he is there again now. Last week he stepped down after like four weeks inpatient, and now is onto the day program like I did, only currently it’s all from home on video.

When this was all going down the first time, their wedding was 6 months away. I struggled a lot over how much to say, and ultimately told her I thought she should at least postpone, maybe cancel. And when he came out of treatment that first time, he even said he wanted to postpone! She declined, citing social pressure and embarrassment and save the dates having gone out. I think an unspoken part of it was that she wants a baby real bad, so she thought they should just push through, get to baby making, deal with whatever fallout later?

But in between finishing treatment and the wedding, he continued to mess up - he does a lot of avoiding (including of work) and when he’s ashamed, his first instinct is to lie. So she kept having incident after incident of “discovering” that he’d been lying about going to work. Or hiding some additional debt (and also not paying on it). At this point I think I told her, just financially speaking, you should not tie yourself to this person. She did not like me saying that, and eventually I said I could not hear any more about his fuckups. Because she kept giving him ultimatums, but never followed through on them, and I just could not go on that roller coaster. That was a tough moment in our friendship. Conversation became very strained because so much was happening that I had opted out of hearing about. I still don’t know if that was the right thing to do. I tried to support her emotionally but that was difficult under that boundary I set.

Then they got married last May. After lots of talk with my therapist I decided that I should still go to the wedding and be matron of honor and stuff, because I was doing it out of love for her. And I do actually like him a lot too! Just had and have a lot of concerns.

After the wedding things seemed pretty good, he got a job at a dog daycare and seemed to really love that (or maybe before wedding, who can recall).

BFF was officially game on, full court press for baby. I’m 34 which means I think she’s 35 and turning 36 soon.

Sometime in fall he got fired from dog daycare for badmouthing the owner and then getting into a shouting match (!) with them. In January he got a new job, as an assistant manager at a grocery store. I did not say this to BFF but my initial thought was “if he can’t hack dog daycare how can he assistant manage a busy grocery store?”

I think he lasted a month at grocery store. Then he started punking out and calling in because his “feet hurt.” BFF freaked out because she assumed he was going to lose another job. She apparently had some very firm conversation with him about how she wasn’t happy and almost none of her needs were being met. A couple days later he told her he’d been feeling suicidal and needs to go back to treatment. OH and somewhere in there things also went off the rails with trying for baby. I think he has performance issues in addition to low libido, AND the thought of becoming a dad was triggering. For instance, he was supposed to give a semen sample for analysis but freaked out just being in the clinic for it and left. When BFF told me all this she kept asking “is this okay” and “is this too triggering for you to hear” and at first I thought she meant because of how I also was having a flare up in mental health symptoms due to stressful job, but then later I realized it was because of my previous “can’t hear this stuff anymore” edict. But honestly, I feel totally different about that now! They’re married. The disaster (in my view at least) that I was trying to prevent did happen. So nothing feels urgent or painful to me now, other than sadness for her.

While he was inpatient, BFF had been driving his car because it’s nicer than hers, and then it got reposssed so like she came out one morning and it just wasn’t in the driveway. She knew he’d been very behind on payments, like to the point he had a small claim against him, but she thought he’d finally dealt with that and set up a payment plan. When she called him to say what was going on his inclination was to drop out of treatment and come home early to “deal with it,” which he was eventually talked out of.

So THAT is just to get caught up on past events! Sheesh, this is so long. So my current agitations (some of which are serious and some petty) are:

I’m worried that when his back is against the wall he claims mental breakdown to evade responsibility. This feels very mean of me to think, and also he’s been assessed by experts who presumably can tell when someone is making it up, so...I know he really must not be! But this still feels like the pattern.

Another petty thought is that I too have some heavy duty diagnoses and childhood trauma, but I’ve got it together and manage my mental health very avidly to stay as healthy as possible, so why can’t he. ALSO NOT FAIR! I know that. But it keeps popping into my head. It’s shitty that I can relate to him so well and yet it almost makes me LESS sympathetic. Something for me to work on.

I also worry that the instinct to lie is something that’s hard to get rid of. I know because I have it! I think I have stopped listening to it but it still comes up. And how can you have a good marriage with someone who regularly lies about important things. I don’t think you can.

BFF’s current line is that she’s going to wait til he finishes treatment but then she wants to go back to intense trying for baby. And that if he doesn’t want to, or says he needs to wait, she might want to get divorced. She says she’s put a lot on hold for him and can’t wait anymore. So, yes, she has. And there is the matter of age that is also a consideration. But this feels so mixed up to me! Like, the time for strict ultimatums and maybe splitting up was a couple years ago! Now he is working on some serious mental health stuff and it seems unfair, and possibly undermining of his progress, to say “well I’ve waited long enough so impregnate me now or else”...but also I do think it seems likely and possibly for the best that they’d end up divorced, so what do I care if she rushes that process along?

Big picture though, I don’t think he’s ready to be a dad or maybe doesn’t even want to be. I feel so sad for BFF because he was her first real boyfriend and she was kind of desperate for this to work, so she has just always grilled him about his desire for marriage and kids or what his timeline is, and has taken any vague affirmative response as total agreement. Like they were at the mall and Gymboree was going out of business so he suggested going in and buying a onesie. So, you know, proof positive that he really wants a baby ASAP too!! 😞 ...so, again, even though it feels somehow unfair to me that she’d start pushing on him now, I suppose it’s better that it come out sooner rather than later if that is the case

She also just totally steamrolls him, see getting married even though he asked to postpone, so I really hope she doesn’t steamroll him into having a baby if he doesn’t want one...

She’d never say it, but I get the sense that deep down she thinks let’s just have the baby and if he’s in a bad way I’ll just do all the work. She’s kind of a control freak so she may feel like she’d prefer that! But I think she overestimates how much harder it would be to have a baby while the other adult in the house can’t help you, won’t get a job, etc. than to just DO it alone for real.

I think she is also glossing over how having a baby and the attendant sleep deprivation can make mental health issues get much worse. Like when I was pregnant with Edie, my psychiatrist strongly recommended I just not even try to breastfeed, so that Jeremy could take night feedings because of how crazy I could go without enough sleep. I did not listen but she may have been right! I did go pretty fucking crazy, with both kids.

Oh! And she also has this big plan that he’s going to get on disability. I have all kinds of feelings and opinions about this. Like, rightly or wrongly, I don’t think he’d meet the criteria for this. Also she keeps saying “well he lost his last three jobs due to mental illness” but...does getting fired for screaming at your boss and telling them “you’re terrible” count as losing job due to mental illness?? But she’s so sure this will work and I have trouble engaging with it and being supportive because it feels delusional to me. It’s also making her view all issues of disability through this lens. Like, my stepmom is anxious and as a result very scatterbrained and inarticulate, and she’s also not worked in a few years partly due to health concerns (but like, complications from gastric bypass...not a disability) and BFF keeps saying “why doesn’t stepmom get on disability?” And I’m like “UMMMM because she’s not disabled??” I did finally tell her to stop saying that to me. But yeah, it’s just hard because again, it feels delusional, but she’s going ahead with it so what’s the point of me being harsh about how much I don’t think it’ll work?

Okay last one - she likes to source opinions and experiences from other people to help her think things through. She’s always been close to my stepmom, who had to divorce my dad because of how bad his drinking got, and my dad is also disabled (for real!) so she spent a lot of time as a caregiver. So BFF has had a lot of long phone conversations with stepmom about all that. I also have another friend whose husband is too mentally ill to work (but not on disability! Which BFF also keeps bringing up). He’s been out of work for years and they have two kids and to be fair, their life does seem crazy to me from the outside, but that friend seems to have her eyes open about everything and feels it’s working for her for now. Anyway, that husband has ALSO done the program that BFF’s husband and I have done, so when he first went in BFF wanted to have a chat with this friend about her experience, so we all met up to chat. She was very up front and blunt - “if we didn’t have kids we’d be divorced” and “we haven’t had sex in years”...but now, BFF basically uses this friend and my stepmom’s relationship with my dad as sort of justifications in her mind - “well I’m not THAT bad!” which I hate. Especially wrt to friend whose husband doesn’t work - “I’d never let it get that bad. I’d have left before now. I’d say he had to get a job or get on disability” etc etc. This drives me craaaaazy. Like, remind me not to introduce you to people to have a heart-to-heart if you’re just going to use them as your mental worst case scenario. Also, bitch, you wouldn’t “let it get that bad?” YOU ARE ON THE ROAD TO “THAT BAD” RIGHT NOW! Your husband lost three jobs in as many years. You also don’t currently have sex. How do you get to years? You start with weeks and months.

Okay, that’s it. It’s just been building and rolling around in my head. If you read it all, um, congrats? Also, this maybe makes our friendship sound bad, but other than most aspects of her marriage I have no issues with her and we get along great!! It’s been hard because prior to me telling her not to get married we’ve seen eye to eye, or close to, on everything important.

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bucklesomeswashswan · 6 years

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Once Upon a December (6/10)

Summary: Emma doesn’t remember much of her past, all she knows is she needs to get out of Misthaven. The mysterious group called the Industrialists continues to gain power and control since they overthrew the royal family over a decade ago. Out of options, Emma joins forces with a conman Killian and his partner Ruby in their plot to pass her off as the lost princess of Misthaven. But as they travel together and Killian and Ruby try to teach her how to be a princess, Emma begins to uncover hidden pieces of her past. When threats start closing in around them will she choose to escape to safety or risk everything to find her family and reveal a dangerous secret that could change history forever?

Rating: M

Story content warning: some descriptions of violence, slow burn

Part of @captainswanbigbang 2018. Updates every Saturday!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 also read it on AO3

The art for this story is from the very sweet and very talented @prongsie! Take a look at these awesome illustrations for chapter 2 and 5! Thank you to my beta reader @csobsessed-21!

I want to give a huge thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting and liking the story! It is the best feeling to have people react to your story. Thank you so very much!

Chapter 6 : Glowing Dim as an Ember

Killian moved restlessly about the small windowless room. Over the last few hours he had learned that it was twenty-three paces around the square room, that each wall had 162 stones, and that the ceiling was approximately eight feet high. The room was lit with three sconces each with two gas fixtures. Twice he had heard footsteps above him, and taking the slightly musty air into account it was reasonable to assume he was in some sort of basement.

But for all that he had knew about the room he still had no idea what had happened to Ruby or Emma since they were separated. He didn’t know if they were nearby, possibly locked into similar rooms, or if they were even still in the mansion. No one had entered the room since he had been shoved inside and he hated that he didn’t know what they were planning to do with him or any of them.

He growled in frustration pounding a fist into the thick metal door. The sound echoed dully and faded into silence. No answer. No change.

Trapped. He was trapped. He should have seen this coming. Maybe if they had been more vigilant. It had been a weak moment, a small pleasure he hadn’t been able to deny, to stay with Emma last night. He should have set watches, they should never have let themselves think they were safe. Now because of his mistakes they were all caught in Gold’s cruel grip.

He had been distracted for days. Seeing Emma’s magic had thrown him, an unbelievable display that had shocked him and left him feeling like he’d missed a step. A lurch in his stomach like he was falling with no end, nothing anchoring him to solid ground.

He’d only seen one other person do magic like that before. And everything since the attack on the train had only made it harder to ignore what was right in front of him. The dreams she described, her magic, the ease with which she picked up what they taught her, the way she had described the amulet from her nightmare.

It was too much of a coincidence. There was only one explanation. His mind railed against the impossible thought even as he knew it was true: Emma actually was the lost Princess of Misthaven.

Killian blew out a sigh. The absurdity of it almost made him want to laugh. For over a week he had been in the company of royalty. The heir to the throne of his homeland. A ghost from a time long ago. And then, when she needed it, he had failed to protect her, again.

He rubbed his hand over his face. They were in such deep shit. Not only had they fallen into Gold’s trap, but they had delivered the Princess right to him, the target of his crusade for over a decade, the symbol of everything he had worked to crush.

Their only hope for Emma to survive this was that Gold never find out who she really was, no matter what.

~*~

Emma was in some kind of laboratory, elaborate machines lined the workbenches around her. Scattered about were piles of gears, scrap metal, and spectacles with multiple lens that could be lowered presumably for magnification. Perhaps this was a place Gold had spent hours creating his inventions, or even more likely where he had others do it for him. She wondered what he might have threatened talented craftsmen with to get them to work for him. What dark secrets had been traded for favors within these walls.

Emma glared at the man seated across the table from her. One of Gold’s men. He wasn’t a blackguard, or at least he wasn’t wearing the dark uniform, but that didn’t make him less menacing. He seemed to match the worn and industrial feel of the room, his features were sharp and grizzled. And his scowl carved deep lines across his forehead as though it was the expression he wore the most often, and now it was chiseled permanently onto his face.

“I’m not sure you realize the trouble you are in, Miss,” he said gruffly. Emma didn’t reply, her jaw clenching as she watched his thumb drum on the table. A ring flashed in the light where it sat against his knuckle. Something about the twisted band seemed familiar but she couldn’t place it before he spoke again.

“Our world is governed by laws, and those laws were put in place to keep everyone safe.” Again he paused, perhaps waiting from some response from her. After a moment he continued, “When those laws are broken it represents a danger to everyone. It weakens our society and perpetuates fear.”

Emma wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, especially not from the people that had toppled their society and continued to perpetuate fear.

“I’m not sure what this has to do with me,” she told him bluntly.

A flicker of emotion flashed in his eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was anger, frustration, or disbelief. He straightened in his chair leaning a little closer to her.

“You were found in the company of known criminals,” he told her. “That makes you complicit.”

This wasn’t going the way Emma had hoped. This wasn’t an overworked provincial country deputy who could be easily persuaded to turn a blind eye. She ran quickly through her options, trying to predict where each possible lie would lead the interrogation.

“I just met them,” she said with a shrug that was more nonchalant than she felt. “I had no idea who they were.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You’re telling me that you didn’t think, for even a second, that the people who smuggled you illegally over the border, who broke into a private home, might be criminals?”

Emma blew out a breath. “They told me they could help me travel out of Misthaven, I didn’t know they meant illegally.”

“It didn’t seem strange that you had to chase down a train and jump on board? Most people board trains at stations, they have tickets, travel papers.”

His patronizing tone made Emma’s fist clench, she pushed down the desire to punch him. She wondered vaguely what would happen if she reached over and grabbed the telescope sitting on the table beside her and decked him with it.

“Like I said, I didn’t know how they were planning to cross the border,” she said.

“How did you learn about the train? The route? The schedule?” he asked, the questions coming in rapid succession.

“The schedules of the trains aren’t a secret,” Emma said. “Any merchant knows when trains leave the city.”

He seemed to pounce on that. “So a merchant helped you? Give me a name.”

Emma frowned. “There was no merchant. I don’t have a name to give you because there isn’t one to give. I’m just trying to say that there are people who know the schedules. And if anyone knows the schedules then you can bet that information gets sold to criminals.”

A grin spread over his lips before she even realized her mistake. “So now you’re admitting they are criminals?”

Emma fought to keep her expression impassive as she struggled for an answer that wouldn’t incriminate them all. “I’m saying I don’t know how they learned about the train, but it wouldn’t be impossible for anyone to find out.”

Again there was that flicker behind his eyes, this time it was more ruthless. It seemed he was getting tired of this conversation too. But before he could say anything else the door to the room opened again, the wide deadbolts sliding back, and Gold walked in.

Emma swallowed as he came to a stop. His gaze seared over her and she shivered. The intensity made her feel as if he were looking straight through her, as if he were reading her thoughts. It sent fear prickling up her arms and tickling at the back of her neck.

His lips pulled up into a twisted grin. “So,” he said his voice between a rasp and a hiss, “if you aren’t partners with Mr. Jones and Miss Lucas then who exactly are you?”

~*~

Ruby hated prison cells. She had spent numerous nights behind bars over the years. Small run-ins with the authorities. It never stuck for long. She had friends in strategic places, a knowledge of what bribes would open which locks. Killian was always there waiting for her. He was always the first face she saw when she released. He used to joke she was his very own bad penny, but time and again he kept coming back for her.

She sighed leaning back in the plush armchair in the cozy study. This might have been the most luxurious place she had been locked up in, but it was still a prison. No antique furniture, crackling fire in the gate, or steaming cup of tea could hide that fact. She wasn’t so easily bought.

In hindsight there was an irony to their situation. What were the odds that the house they had chosen to break into would belong to Gold? It strained probability. Of all the mistakes she’d made over the years, those momentary lapses in concentration that landed her in tight spots, this had to be the dumbest. And still there wasn’t any way they could have known.

She wondered where the others were. Killian and Emma. She hoped they were together, wherever they were. This solitary confinement thing was starting to make her fidget. She hated just staring at the walls waiting for something to happen. And she had been waiting too long.

Why had no one come to talk to her yet? Where was Gold? What was he planning to do with them? Too many questions and no way to get answers. She hated uncertainty.

In Misthaven it had been fairly simple. There were still laws and procedures that had to be followed. Charges and sentencing. It was a corrupt system, sure, but it was predictable. But they weren’t in Misthaven anymore. Here they were off the edge of the map. Locked in Gold’s private home, there was no oversight, no system to govern his judgement. He could do anything to them and no one would ever know. No one would ever even know to miss them. They would simply disappear, like so many others.

The thought sent a chill through her.

They were completely at his mercy. There was nothing stopping Gold from locking them away, or worse, a thorn in his side finally vanquished. They had no way to save themselves. They had nothing to bargain with, nothing that he wanted.

~*~

“Well, perhaps I’ll tell you what I know about you, Emma,” Gold continued lingering on her name. “I know you fell in with some bad company.”

Emma remained still, not trusting herself not to betray all of them under his scrutinizing gaze. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but outwardly she tried to keep her breaths slow and even.

“People like Jones and Lucas, they are easy to be enchanted by. They are deceptive by nature and they profit on others falling for their smiles and charms. But it is only that, an illusion.”

Emma knew this tactic was a simple manipulation, and yet Gold had crafted it to perfectly prod at all her insecurities, apply pressure on old wounds, and she couldn’t help the shadow of doubt that slithered into her thoughts at his double edged words. She had known the kind of people Killian and Ruby were, she had known they were dangerous and still she had allowed herself to be pulled in by them, into their plan, like gravity. But maybe that was all it was: carefully timed smiles, well chosen kind words, magnetic personalities and a lonely girl so desperate to be wanted that she had almost fooled herself into believing their scam. If she was completely honest, there had been moments she had almost believed she could actually be the princess.

But wouldn’t it make more sense if it had all been a trick? Just a way for them to score a huge sum of money. What did they care if they crushed a random girl in the end. Just concentrate on the reasons you’re doing this, those had been Killian’s words. The ends justify the means. And if he was concentrating on an enormous payout would he willing to sacrifice her on the way?

“I’ve known of Killian Jones for years,” Gold said. “He’s a cunning lad. Always some plot, some gamble, some adventure. That’s what drives him, the thrill of the game. He doesn’t care about the collateral damage: the people’s lives he ruins with his actions, the people who are left behind. He has cycled through many partners, discarding them as soon as they were no more use to him.”

Her thoughts went to Robin and his men, abandoned at the border. A stepping stone in his plan, used and then left behind.

“He knows nothing of loyalty,” Gold finished.

Emma frowned. The words echoed dully in her mind, slowly losing their meaning as they repeated over and over. But unlike the rest these didn’t ring quite true, a crack in an elegant argument. She didn’t need her uncanny ability of sensing lies to know it. Gold might have known Killian for years, but she had known him long enough. He had shown himself to be courageous, smart, selfless. And beyond anything she knew he was loyal. All the stories Ruby had told her of the way they had grown up never giving up on each other, the way they continued to protect each other. The way he had found a family with Ruby. It was the most striking thing about him.

“You don’t know them. They are not bad people,” Emma said quietly.

Gold’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. “What?”

“They have been helping others for years,” Emma said more confidently. “They were only trying to help me find my family.”

“Trying to help you?” Gold sneered picking up one of the twisted pieces of metal from a workbench and turning it over in his hands. “You mean by attempting to pass you off as the Princess of Misthaven?”

Emma blanched. This wasn’t some probing guess, she could tell Gold knew the truth, the entire truth. Only the three of them had known their plan. A sense of dread spread through her. If Gold knew then it meant one of the other two must have told him.

“Who told you about that?” she asked.

“I have my sources. I like to be well informed” Gold said cryptically.

But there wasn’t anyone else. The only logical answer was it had to have been Killian or Ruby. She didn’t know what would have made them give up that secret, but could Emma truly blame them if they had done what they had to in order to survive?

They were all in a perilous situation, captured, Killian and Ruby at the whim of a man who hated them. What would she have given to protect any family she had?

She leaned back in her chair. “So you know about our plan,” she said. “We slipped out of Misthaven in an attempt to get the reward money.”

Gold eyed her curiously. “And that’s all it was? Just a way to steal money?”

“There aren’t many ways to earn money in Misthaven anymore,” Emma said icily. Fury flashed through Gold’s expression. She knew she shouldn’t provoke him but it had been too tempting.

“You didn’t care that you’d be swindling the royals?” he asked her.

Her brows pulled down. “We’re not loyalists of the royal family if that’s what you’re asking.”

Gold tilted his head a little. “That’s interesting,” he said and it seemed like he meant it, though he didn’t elaborate.

Emma didn’t know or care why he might find that interesting. If Gold knew their plan and any hope of pulling it off was gone, then she at least wanted to see the others.

“Where are Killian and Ruby?” she asked him.

He seemed a little surprised at her question.

“I’d have thought you wouldn’t be so worried about them after learning they had betrayed you,” he said.

Emma stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “They haven’t betrayed me. If cooperating with your interrogation was what they needed to do to survive, that isn’t a betrayal to me.”

Gold was staring at her with an unreadable expression, unreadable but not blank. She could see him forming a plan.

“You seem quite fond of them,” he observed.

She could sense the trap in his words. She worked to keep her expression neutral.

“I want to see them now,” she said.

“That isn’t how this works. They are in the official custody of the Industrialists now.”

“What does that mean?” she asked him.

“They will be dealt with accordingly for their crimes,” he told her mildly. His tone immediately belied by the way he grabbed a pair of pliers from the bench and gripped an edge of the piece of metal in his hand. He pulled back, wrenching off a chunk, the metal groaning loudly as it tore free.

His implication was clear. Emma’s fingers clenched into a fist hard enough her nails dug into her palms.

Gold seemed to notice her expression. “It won’t be anything they don’t deserve.”

“They haven’t done anything wrong,” Emma said firmly.

Gold set the ruined twist of metal down impassively and sat opposite her. “That isn’t for you to decide.”

“Who does decide? You?” she asked him. “You’re the leader of the Industrialists.”

Gold studied her with his dark gaze. She felt again as if he were staring into her, dissecting her piece by piece, able to see the hidden inner workings of her mind as if she were nothing more than the clockwork machines around them.

“I am,” he agreed. “And as such it is my job to protect the interests of the Industrial Guild.”

His exact wording caught her attention. This wasn’t about justice or crime and punishment. This was about Gold getting what he wanted.

“The Industrial Guild is that interested in Killian and Ruby?” she asked. “Seems to me like a waste of resources to have tracked them so far from Misthaven. There must be something you want more than them.”

A crooked smile pulled slowly at his lips, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Indeed.”

“Then let them go,” Emma said seizing on his admission. “You don’t need them.”

Gold looked at her for a long moment. She had the unnerving sense that despite everything, despite the fact she almost felt like she was winning, she had ended up exactly where he wanted her. Cat and mouse, and he was closing in.

“All favors come with a price,” Gold told her at last, “If I do this for you, you’ll need to do something for me in return.”

Emma met his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

His smirk widened, his expression victorious. It made her wary of what kind of deal he would propose.

“The reappearance of the royals has been a growing irritation for me,” he said.

Emma marveled at his word choice: irritation. As if Kings and Queens were just a mild nuisance to him, nothing more than an itch in a hard to reach spot, a fly buzzing in his ear, or sunlight shining into his eyes. It made her aware again of just who this man before her was, that he had toppled dynasties and he had bent and twisted countless people to his will.

“Rumors have reached Misthaven about the King and Queen, unsettling whispers that are upsetting the people. It’s destabilizing what we have worked for,” he continued.

“An unstable Misthaven,” Emma said sardonically, unable to stop herself, “goodness, what must that be like?”

Gold straightened in his chair his cold eyes piercing her. “I was under the impression you wanted my help,” he said icily.

Emma clenched her jaw biting down any response. He was right, she needed him. She needed to help Killian and Ruby.

“Good girl,” he said. The words made her skin crawl. Condescending and patronizing. It took everything in her to stay still and quiet. He watched her reaction carefully as if the words had been a test of her compliance. Emma wondered if his every word and action was a test, always gauging everyone in the room. She was beginning to understand how he had come to power so quickly.

“There is a ball being held tomorrow night for the royal family and their exiled supporters. Their disillusioned and misguided aim is to garner support from within Glowerhaven. They profess a goal of returning Misthaven to a monarchy and regaining control, but what they are really doing is trying to get Misthaven to regress. They plan to disrupt trade between Misthaven and the other kingdoms, to cut off resources needed for manufacturing. If that happens many workers and their families will suffer. I can’t allow our people to be attacked in this way. After over a decade hiding from their responsibilities and guilt, freeloading off the people of foreign lands these out of touch royals presume to know what is best for Misthaven, the country they abandoned. We are a proud and strong people who do not need an outdated monarchy staging a coup and ripping the power of democratic voice from us.”

He spoke to her as if they were both of the working class of Misthaven. As if they both would be personally affected by whatever sanctions or political maneuvers Glowerhaven or the royal family made. As if they weren’t sitting in his opulent mansion in a foreign country, as if he wasn’t the one who had ripped the power and voice from the people, as if he wasn’t the one who had attacked Misthaven and everything it had held dear. Every word he spoke was gilded exploitation.

“What is it you want me to do?” she asked bluntly.

“I need you to take the royal family out of the equation before they cause any more damage,” he said.

Emma blinked.

“I’m sorry,” she said holding up a hand as she tried make sense of what he said. “Are you asking me to kill them?”

Gold leaned in closer. “Think of it as a life for a life. You asked me to release two convicted criminals. My offer is a stay of execution for each of them. Buy their freedom with the lives of the King and Queen.”

“So I murder the King and Queen,” Emma clarified, “and you will let Killian and Ruby go? No strings attached? You won’t hunt them down, or press any charges?”

“That is my deal,” Gold said his eyes watching her closely.

Emma ran a hand over her face. It was insane. She was actually contemplating murder. Her thoughts running furiously as she tried wrap her mind around it. But with no leverage and no other options she met his gaze.

“I accept.”

Gold nodded, like he had always known that would be the outcome. As if she were predictable, a foregone conclusion in his design. He seemed to be already enjoying the idea of having her be his puppet.

“So how does this work?” Emma asked him. “I just stand outside the entrance of this ball until the King and Queen show up and then I kill them?”

Gold shook his head. “No, I’ll get you inside the ball.”

He gestured to the guard in the corner of the room who passed him a small case. Gold set the case on the table and opened it. He pulled out an embossed invitation listing the information for the ball, and then slid the box closer to Emma. She peered inside and there, sitting in a bed of satin padding, was a shining dagger with jagged blade.

He lifted the blade and laid it on the table with soft thud. “What exactly you do once inside is up to you.”

Emma eyed the blade warily.

“And what about Killian and Ruby? How do I know you’ll keep your word?” she asked.

Gold shrugged. “Keep them with you. They’ll accompany you to the ball. If you hold up your part of the bargain they go free. If you fail, well, I suggest you don’t fail.”

Emma glared at him picking up the dagger and sliding into the inside pocket of her jacket. “I want to see them now.”

Gold stood and waved her to the door. “Be my guest.”

~*~

Ruby looked up at a sudden noise coming from beyond the door. A scrape and the sound of a key in the lock. She stood quickly glancing around for anything that might be used as a weapon: the cooling tea in the pot, the iron lamp on the side table. She tensed, readying for a fight.

The door creaked open and one of the blackguards waved Killian inside before shutting and locking the door once again. Ruby sighed in relief.

“Killian,” she breathed.

He looked around the room, eyes skimming over the plush furniture and paneled walls. “Where’s Emma?”

Ruby frowned. “I thought she might be with you.”

Killian shook his head. “I was alone. If she isn’t with you then we need to get out of here and find her.”

“No use,” Ruby said. “I’ve been thorough while I waited. There’s no way out of here unless you can climb through fire and up a hot chimney.”

Killian glanced at the fireplace as if seriously considering it for a moment. In the end he walked over to the door and jostled the handle studying the lock. He carefully pulled out two of the lock picks hidden within his mechanical hand and slid them into the lock.

Ruby pursed her lips. She had never seen a lock like the one in the door, and she knew Killian hadn’t either. She had a feeling it was useless, but she bit back the words because hope was a terrible thing to crush, and she knew he would need to exhaust every possibility before he gave up.

Watching him work was what she imagined it might have been like to watch Michelangelo or one of the great sculptors at work. The way his hands moved in small, precise movements, the clink of the tumblers within the lock. But instead of a masterpiece whittled from marble, she watched as with each minute a little more of Killian’s patience and confidence was chipped away until he threw down the picks with a curse and laid his forehead against the door in defeat.

“Well, if you’re done wasting time with that,” Ruby said gesturing to the door.

Killian scowled over his shoulder at her.

Ruby picked up the teapot with a smile. “Want some tea while we wait?”

Killian scoffed rolling his eyes. “I prefer coffee.”

Ruby shrugged. “Prisoners can’t be choosers.”

The word prisoners sobered Killian. His worried gaze meeting Ruby’s, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. She could see the same fear in his eyes she had been trying to push down herself. Fear that at any moment the blackguards or Gold might reappear, something that would definitely end badly for them. At least he was here with her again, they’d face whatever came next together.

The lock clicked behind them, the door handle turning. Killian stood quickly placing himself a half step between Ruby and the door. Ruby tightened her grip on the teapot. They waited as the door opened a second time.

A slim figure was pushed into the room, stumbling and falling to the floor, her blond hair spilling around her.

“Stay here,” the blackguard in the hall ordered before slamming the door shut.

Emma gingerly pushed herself up. She looked at each of them carefully as she stood.

“Are you okay?” she asked them. “Gold didn’t hurt you?”

“Hurt?” Ruby repeated. “No, I’m fine. They locked me in this room and offered me tea. Bored maybe, but not hurt.”

“They didn’t interrogate you?” Emma asked looking surprised.

Ruby shook her head. “No one’s even come to talk to me, not until you two showed up.”

They both looked at Killian. “I was alone,” he said.

Emma’s eyes lingered on each or them for a long moment before a vaguely sick expression slowly settled over her features as she backed away from them and sank heavily into a nearby chair. Her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

“Emma?” Killian asked. “What’s going on?”

Emma didn’t respond but her face was pale in the flickering light of the fire and she looked close to passing out.

“Did they do something to you?” Ruby said sitting in the chair beside Emma.

“Was it the blackguards?” Killian asked kneeling down in front of Emma.

Emma blinked at them before swallowing thickly. “It was Gold,” she said quietly.

“Gold?” Killian repeated the word a low growl. “What did he do?”

She stared down at her hands in her lap for a long moment before she responded. “We made a deal.”

Ruby’s heart dropped into her stomach. Gold had a reputation for making deals that always seemed to benefit him and leave the other party worse off than before.

“What deal did he force you to make?” Killian asked placing a gentle hand on Emma’s knee.

“He knew,” she told them still not quite meeting their eyes. “He knew about our plan. Impersonating the princess, finding the King and Queen in Glowerhaven. I thought one of you had told him.”

Killian shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. No one questioned us.”

Emma frowned. “He knew things, things about each of us.”

Killian swallowed, his expression worried.

“What did he know about you?” he asked Emma.

She shook her head. “It felt like he knew all my insecurities. He knew everything we were planning.”

Ruby frowned looking at Killian. “But if none of us told him then how did he know? No one else knew.”

Killian sat back on his heels.

“Robin,” Killian said softly breaking the silence. Ruby looked up at him.

“What?”

“Robin told Gold,” Killian said. “If it wasn’t us, it had to be him.”

Ruby shook her head. “He didn’t know what we were planning.”

Killian gave her a skeptical look. “He’s smart enough to have worked it out. And he’s smart enough to know what that information might be worth to Gold.”

“No,” Ruby said firmly. “Robin wouldn’t do that. Not to us.”

Killian didn’t look convinced. Ruby knew the arguments he’d make: that they didn’t know if Robin had been arrested, or worse. They didn’t know what he might have had to do to escape the blackguards at the border. What wouldn’t he do if they threatened Roland. But she had known Robin longer than Killian had and she knew he wouldn’t betray them.

“It wasn’t Robin, though I think he did manage to work out most of our plan,” Emma said. “I think it was that member of his crew, Will. He heard Robin and I talking that night we camped in the woods. He had a ring, at the time I didn’t think anything of it. But then tonight one of Gold’s men had the same ring, I couldn’t figure out why the ring had seemed familiar until you just mentioned Robin.”

“Will would definitely sell us out to save his own his skin,” Killian said darkly. “Son of a bitch.”

It made sense. Will had always been a bit of weasel. Since he joined Robin and the Merry Men he had been more interested in lining his own pockets and helping himself than helping the cause. If he had leaked information to Gold about their plan, about their location at the border, she wondered what he other intel he might have leaked about the Merry Men and the supply underground in Misthaven.

“If Gold knows our plan, then he knows about the reward money,” Ruby said thinking through the ramifications. If Gold had convinced Emma to cut him in on any or all of the reward money it would supply money straight to the Industrialists, and strengthen Gold’s power.

“Emma,” Killian said his voice low as he looked at Emma, “what deal did you make with Gold?”

~*~

Emma looked between Killian and Ruby, the warm light from the fire so different from the stark laboratory she had been in with Gold. There it had felt like she had no options, no choices. Here with their kind and worried faces she was ashamed of what she had agreed to.

Even after all the time Gold had spent trying to convince her they were hardened criminals she knew they wouldn’t easily condone murdering a king and queen. And still there was nothing else she could do if she wanted to save their lives.

She pushed down all the warring emotions within her and tried to keep her expression from betraying her under Killian’s piercing gaze. She hoped his habit of seeing through her was currently distracted with everything else going on.

“Gold wants a meeting with the King and Queen,” she told them the lie rolling easily off her tongue. “He said the rumor that the royals are trying to return to power is creating problems in Misthaven and he wants to address any complications with them directly.”

Emma waited for their reaction, nearly holding her breath.

“Why can’t he set up a meeting himself?” Ruby asked.

“Well, he did try to murder them and ran them out of their own country,” Emma said. “They probably wouldn’t be that receptive to granting him any favors. But I can get an audience with the King and Queen and arrange a meeting.”

“You think you can get the King and Queen to agree to meet with Gold?” Killian asked his tone unsure.

Emma nodded trying to look more confident than she felt. “Our plan was to convince them I’m the princess anyway. If they believe I’m their daughter I’ll be able orchestrate a meeting with Gold.”

“Did he tell you where the King and Queen are?” Ruby asked.

“Gold said there’s a ball tomorrow night the royals will be attending. He gave me an invitation that will get us inside.”

She passed the invitation to Killian. He looked it over carefully his expression veiled.

“So you set up the meeting and then what?” Killian asked her setting the invitation aside. “What are you getting out of this deal?”

“Gold will let us go,” she told them.

“Just like that?” he asked his expression held a hint of suspicion. Suspicion she hoped was for Gold and not her story.

She nodded. “That’s the deal.”

“You’ll be meeting the King and Queen tomorrow night?” Ruby asked. “That’s much quicker than I was hoping. Do you think we’ll be ready?”

Their eyes turned to Emma. She gave a half shrug. “We have to be.”

Ruby ran a hand through her hair listing off the things Emma still should learn or go over before any face to face with the King and Queen. Emma wasn’t listening though. It didn’t matter anyway. She didn’t need to convince anyone anymore, the only thing she needed now was the dagger tucked into her jacket.

#csbb #captain swan #captain swan big bang #cs ff #cs ff au #anastasia au #steampunk au #my writing

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tog84 · 6 years

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Heros

Ch1 The Black Cat

Adrien’s ever-present smile, practiced and perfect, vanished the moment he heard the door latch. His mask was gone. He slumped against the door. The image of the perfect attentive son and perpetually good-humored model left behind. This was his space. His refuge. Here, he could be himself. Here, he was Adrien: gamer, anime fan, physics nerd, complete and utter geek. All the things his father didn’t approve of as part of his ‘image’.

Memories of his last conversation with his father kept echoing in his mind, threatening to push him over the edge.

“Father, I was hoping to talk to you about university again…”

“I don’t believe there is anything to discuss.”

“I… I know that…”

“If you have something to say, say it. I am a busy man.”

“I know that you hope that one day I would take over the brand, but that’s not what I want. I think I want to teach. I want to study physics and education. I’ve already been accepted to programs for both.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes, I guess it is.”

“Now that is out of the way, we can put it behind us. You will do what is expected of you. You will study business and you will take over the brand when I retire.”

“But, Father-”

“I have given you everything, if you wish to leave, you will be on your own. And we both know how far you will make it alone.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I do not want to hear of this again. I expect you in the office first thing Monday morning.”

Adrien knew that if he didn’t stop himself, he would go crazy replaying the conversation in his head. He needed a distraction, and he knew just where to look. He set his bag on the coffee table and logged into his computer. His online friends could always lift his spirits.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t know their real names, it just mattered that they listened him without judgement. He could share anything with them without fear of shame or reprisal. He loved hearing about their normal lives; about school, work, even family gatherings. They thought it was weird, but only teased a little and readily included him in any conversation.

When he realized none of them were online, his head hit the desk. Once again, he was alone.

Leaving his desk, he climbed the stairs to his game library. He didn’t see a point in any of them. He moved on to his anime shelves and grabbed a disk at random, went back down, and put it in the player. Anything now would be better than the silence.

Sitting on the couch he tried to pay attention to the movie, but his mind wouldn’t stop running over the confrontation, adding more and more past events to the heap. Completely ignoring the television, he slumped forward, cradling his forehead in his hands. He was going to lose it. A growl escaped his lips as he gripped his hair.

“When will I be able to do what I want!” Adrien railed into the silence. “My Father has kept me caged up since Mom disappeared. I’ve never been able to do anything on my own!” His voice softened. “I’ve never even been allowed to try.”

That thought triggered another in his mind. Was he doing it on purpose? Was Gabriel intentionally keeping him dependent? But, to what end? And then it hit him. Control. Gabriel was obsessed with controlling everything around him. From his company to his household, everything ran the way Gabriel wanted it. That need for control extended to his son as well.

When his mother was still with them, he was able to do what he wanted, be who he wanted to be. His mother couldn’t be controlled. But she was gone, and Adrien didn’t know how to escape his father.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, curled in on himself. The anger and frustration slowly giving way to despair. Sobs rocked his body as he wept. Bitter tears stained his cheeks.

When it felt like there were no more tears to cry, Adrien took a couple of shaky breaths to steady himself. Sitting up, he dried his face and flopped back on the couch. As his head hit the back of the couch, he felt his gaze being pulled to his desk. At first nothing seemed out of place. Then, slowly, as if someone was adjusting the focus on a lens, a small black box came into view. He quickly stood and crossed to the desk.

‘How long had that been there?’

He picked up, what appeared to be a jewelry box. It was a hexagon shaped box with a black finish, streaked with a red wood grain, and a red design on top.

The desk underneath was discolored, indicating it had sat there for quite some time. He tentatively opened it. Inside was a black ring. The band of the ring was larger, and it had a circular face, much like a signet ring, with four claws holding it on the diagonal corners. In the center of the face was a bright green paw print.

Slowly, Adrien extended his hand to remove the ring from the box. The moment he touched it, there was a blinding flash of green light. As Adrien’s vision cleared, he noticed the ring was now silver, and the pawprint was gone. He finished his motion retrieving the ring when the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end.

He was not alone anymore…

Someone was standing right behind him…

Every muscle in Adrien’s body tensed and then instantly loosened as he spun and dropped into a defensive stance. And then froze.

Standing in front of him was… a man? He mostly looked like a man. He was tall, wearing a tailored, black three-piece suit with a white ascot. The suit was completed by black dress shoes and black gloves. His skin was pale but not sickly looking. He had black hair and vibrant green eyes.

And that was where the resemblance to a man ended.

Instead of human ears, he had cat ears perched on the top of his head and swishing behind him Adrien could see a feline tail. Topping it off, his green eyes were slit with vertical cat like pupils. He stood there looking at Adrien with a curious expression in his eyes. He tilted his head to the side, just like a cat studying something.

And then he spoke.

“Well, hello Adrien. It’s about time we met. I’ve been sleeping in there for ages. It’s been forever since I had a decent bit of cheese. You wouldn’t happen to have any around, would you?” His voice was high pitched and a bit nasally.

“What… Who… How… Cheese?” Adrien spluttered, not able to form a coherent thought.

“I’ll answer those in reverse order.” He held up a hand with four fingers raised. “Cheese: because, who doesn’t love cheese? It is one of the greatest things you humans have ever created. Especially my precious camembert.” He lowered one finger. “How: you brought me in. That ring you’re holding right there is called a Miraculous and is a form of conduit to channel my power.” He lowered another finger. “Who: my name is Plagg,” he said lowering a third finger. “And finally, what: I am a Kwami. A magical being who has bound my power to Miraculous to help protect the world from the great dangers that threaten it. I am the embodiment of destruction.” He lowered his hand and asked, “Now, how about that camembert?”

Adrien picked his jaw up off the floor as he tried to process all this information.

“This can’t be real. I must be dreaming. Or, I’m having a complete nervous breakdown. All of the stress and stuff… Yeah that’s it,” he mumbled to himself.

“Sorry, kid.” He cut him off. “You’re most definitely awake and you’re not suffering a breakdown. I’m real as you are.”

“So, Plagg was it?” Plagg nodded in the affirmative. “Supposing I believe all of the things you’re saying, and that’s kind of asking a lot, I just have a couple more questions.” His brow furrowed, and he looked up at the Kwami.

When the question was not forthcoming, Plagg inclined his head and said, “Go on…”

“Why are you here? Why are you in my room? Why do I have this ring?” Adrian asked as he began pacing in front of his desk.

Plagg smirked. “Well the answer to all of those is basically the same.” He strode over and sat on the back of the couch stretching his legs and crossed his ankles in front of himself. He crossed his arms over his chest before he continued. “You have been chosen to be the holder of the black cat miraculous. You will be given the power of destruction with which you will protect people from things too powerful to be contained by ordinary means.”

Adrien flopped into his desk chair, once again trying to make sense of what he just heard. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, let me get this straight. You want me to, what, become a superhero? How in the world would I even begin to go about doing that? Why me?”

Plagg chuckled. “Yeah kid, essentially. You put on that ring you are basically signing a contract with me. I will give you power and you help me protect the chosen of creation,” Plagg said, standing back up. “You were chosen because you are truly a good person. You are kind and caring and selfless. You are willing to give up your own happiness and comfort so that others may be happy.” Plagg walked over and put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I’ve been watching you for years now. I’ve seen it all. Honestly, you’re almost too giving, but we can work on that. You will hold the power of destruction, so you must be mindful of your actions. That is why you were chosen.” He patted the younger man’s shoulder.

Adrien rolled the ring between his fingers. It all began to sink in. If he was in fact not dreaming, if this wasn’t some mental break, then how could he say no? But, how could he do what Plagg was asking him with his father controlling his whole life?

As if reading his mind, Plagg interjected, “Another benefit here, kid. Freedom! You deserve to get out from under your old man’s thumb… at least a little.”

Adrien’s mouth turned up a little at the corners. ‘This just gets more and more appealing.’ he thought. And then something else Plagg said struck him. “What do you mean by the chosen of creation?”

Plagg chuckled, “I was wondering if you’d catch that. You are the chosen of destruction. I am one of the two most powerful Kwami. The other is the Kwami of creation. She’s my other half, my partner,” his expression turned wistful and he added, “my mate.” After a small pause, Plagg shook his head and continued, “Her chosen will wield the power of creation; they can fix whatever we break. It’s a lot more complicated, but we don’t really need to go into specifics. As with all my previous kittens, the burden of protecting and supporting the chosen of creation falls to you,” he paused and looked Adrien in the eye, “if you accept it... You will be their partner and comrade. Do you understand?” Adrien nodded slowly. “Good, now put that ring on and we can start getting you used to your powers.”

Adrien took one last look at the ring before he began to slip it onto his right ring finger. At first it seemed like it was too small, but, as he continued to slide it on, it’s grew to be the perfect fit. “Woah! That’s amazing.” Adrien breathed in astonishment.

“Now just say…” Plagg was cut off by a swift knock at the door. There was a slight sound of a hand on the door knob and the room was once again flooded with green light. When the flash faded, Adrien saw a blur of black dart under his desk as the door opened. In the doorway stood Nathalie Sancoeur, his father’s assistant.

“Adrien, dinner is ready in the dining room,” she said, just as cold and emotionless as his father.

“Thank you, Nathalie, I’m not hungry right now. I need to be alone for a bit.” He channeled all the emotion from the past hour into his words and expression. Luckily for him his eyes were still puffy and a little red. “I’ll come down and get something later.”

“Very well,” she said with an edge of concern in her voice. She stepped out and closed the door.

Adrien dropped down and looked under his desk. There, he found a black cat with a large white spot on its chest. “Plagg?” he questioned.

“In the flesh, kid.” The cat spoke with Plagg’s voice.

“What are you?” Adrien asked, shock and amazement spread across his face.

“I’m a cat sidhe. A shape changer.” He walked out from under the desk. “This is my true form. I chose the other form ‘cause you humans tend to respond to it better. I swear, one talking cat and everyone’s screaming and running around.” Plagg sat down and began grooming himself.

After a moment Adrien shook his head to regain his composure, “You were going to tell me how to use this.” He held up his hand and gestured to the ring with his other.

Plagg looked up and cocked his head to the side the exact way human Plagg had. “Oh yeah! Just say ‘Claws Out’. I’ll join with the ring and you will be transformed.”

“That simple, huh?” Adrien said looking at the ring. “All right. Plagg! Claws Out!”

With that he was engulfed in green light as he felt power surge over his body from head to toe. The sensation was exhilarating. He was filled to brimming with nervous energy. He had to go. He had to move. His eyes were scanning the room for the best way out when he caught his reflection in a full-length mirror and froze.

He dashed closer to get a better look at what he was now wearing. It was a form fitting leather jumpsuit with a silver bell attached to the zipper that went down the front, and around his waist was a black belt with a silver clasp. Over that he wore a leather trench coat with a high collar. It fit close to his torso, but from the waistline hung loose to his ankles. His feet were covered in high cuffed boots with a rounded silver toe. The sleeves of the coat were cuffed, and his hands were covered in clawed gloves.

When he reached his face, he gasped. Over his eyes he wore a black domino mask, but that isn’t what caught his attention. His eyes weren’t human anymore. His pupils were no longer round, but vertical slits, and his sclera were no longer white, but a slightly different green than his natural eye color.

Finally pulling his gaze away from his eyes, he noticed that, on top of his head, he had black leather cat ears. As he noticed them, they shot up just like a surprised cat. As if that wasn’t enough, he noticed movement behind him. Turning, he saw, emerging from slit up the back of the trench coat, a long belt that swished back and forth, just like a tail. He had cat ears and a tail.

“Well, I guess that makes sense. Plagg is a cat,” Adrien said into the silence.

Having taken in his ‘uniform’ fully, the urge to go and run began to take hold again. He grabbed his smart remote and opened one of his windows. Approaching the window, he reached under his coat and retrieved a metal rod that had been attached to his belt.

Once again, he was caught off guard. How did he know the rod, ‘baton’ he corrected himself, was there? How did he know it was a baton? How did he know that if he swiped the right spot a screen would open that worked an awful lot like his smartphone? How did he know that if he willed the baton to grow it would extend into a staff and can grow nearly infinitely? This super power thing was so strange.

He extended the staff and planted one end on the ground and launched himself out of the window. It was a rush, soaring through the air, running across the rooftops of Paris, leaping from building to building. He hurtled through the air growing more and more daring with each leap. He flipped over gaps and dove under railings. He felt so free. It was a feeling he had craved ever since his mother disappeared and his father had sealed him off from the world. He couldn’t help the smile plastered on his face the whole time.

He eventually found himself at the top of the Eiffel Tower looking around at the city of his birth. The city he had lived in his whole life. The city he hadn’t been permitted to know. He was going to get to know this city, his city, now. He couldn’t wait to get started.

#ML #adrinette #ladynoir #marichat #ladrien #fantasy au #my writing #writing #Heros #The Black Cat

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blame-canada · 6 years

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Sympathy vs. Empathy: How Stan and Kyle Differ as Characters

Hello everyone! I have a long post here that was discussed in a group setting that we wanted to put down into proper essay format, so I’ve done my best to do just that. Hopefully this makes sense, and you enjoy what we’ve theorized!

A large group of us were having a discussion about the most recent episodes and seasons that have been coming out for South Park, and we came upon the topic of the apparent deterioration of Stan and Kyle’s super-best-friendship. Some of the conflicts we noted were the handful of times that Stan and Kyle have shown active disinterest in helping each other in the most recent season (21). One of the largest examples has been Kyle refusing to want to help Stan find a solution to his grandfather’s drug smuggling situation in the episode “Hummels and Heroin,” insisting that he did not want to “get involved” in Stan’s problem. Notable for Stan is his lack of care for Kyle’s concerns about Heidi in the episode “Doubling Down,” where he states that Heidi and Cartman are not their “business,” wanting to stay passive in the conflict. On the surface, both of these reactions seem to continue the troubling trend of them growing further and further apart, but after attempting to take a deeper look into their characters as a whole, we came up with some possibilities for why these could have been their reactions beyond them simply growing distant as friends. Full essay with visuals under the cut!

In the past, Stan and Kyle have been incredibly co-dependent in their friendship. They are different characters with different motivations and personalities, but looking into their past as friends, they both act as someone to ground the other in times where they may get carried away. This is true of both of them, and not just one to the other. Neither appears afraid to call it out like it is when they see something is amiss.

For Kyle, a good example is the episode “Crack Baby Athletic Association” in which he joins Cartman in creating a new ‘sport’ which capitalizes on the needs of babies born with addictions to crack. Looking at this episode, I think Kyle convinces himself that he is morally correct in working with Cartman at first- he seems intent to believe that what he is doing is beneficial to the babies. Stan immediately shuts him down as soon as he learns about the situation, however, and does so very bluntly by saying that Kyle sounds like Cartman. Kyle then spends several scenes from the episode trying to explain to Stan why what he’s doing is actually a good thing to do. Stan remains unconvinced, and Kyle continues to flounder. Stan sticking to his expression that Kyle is sounding like Cartman is what helps break Kyle out of this haze that he’s created around himself that convinces him that he’s doing the right thing, and allows him to eventually find his own truth.

Pictured: Kyle justifying crack baby basketball to Stan (top), Stan retorting that he sounds like Cartman (bottom). Both from “Crack Baby Athletic Association.”

An equivalent example for Stan is “Butterballs,” when he gets so swept up in his movement against bullying that it becomes dangerously good at inflating his ego when his campaign goes viral. Kyle repeatedly tries to pull Stan down from the high of his fame, but when Stan doesn’t really listen to him, he just gets frustrated, and actually ends up predicting the future (“…when you’re naked and jackin’ it in San Diego, don’t ask me for help!”).

Pictured: Kyle taking a stand against Stan in “Butterballs.”

These are just two examples of times where these two have attempted to ground one another when they caught them going too far into something. So if there is a trend of them doing this for each other, why have they been neglecting to do this in the most recent episodes? What we came up with was how we defined their core characteristics, and how they act differently based on these two things: Kyle acts on sympathy, and Stan acts on empathy.

We came to the conclusion that Kyle acts on sympathy based on his previous interactions throughout the show, but most noticeably in how he reacts to Cartman in times of trouble. In the episode “Jewpacabra,” Kyle helps Cartman out of the hole he’s dug himself, even though he is the apparent target of Cartman’s antics. There have been several other instances of Kyle coming to Cartman’s aid, despite being Cartman’s favorite punching bag. This speaks to not only his strong sense of morality, but also to his sympathetic roots- Kyle feels bad for him so he wants to help him, because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. Kyle feels bad for the babies in “Crack Baby Athletic Association,” and so he wants to do something to help them and it appears that Cartman is doing that with his organization. With this in mind, the reason that Kyle didn’t want to get involved with Stan’s drug problem was because he didn’t feel sympathy for Stan’s situation. He held Stan to the standard that he understood that what he was doing was wrong, along with his own previously-seen inclinations toward self-preservation and apparent lack of empathy (”You’re Getting Old”/“Assburgers” are a good example of Kyle deciding to preserve himself instead of help Stan with his problems). Stan was stuck in the situation with his grandfather because he didn’t feel like he could just leave it as-is and risk his grandfather’s life. Because Kyle also didn’t see the threat to Stan specifically, he didn’t see a reason to feel bad for him and act.

Pictured: Kyle leading Cartman home in “Jewpacabra” (top), Kyle brushing off Stan’s cry for help in “Hummels and Heroin” (bottom).

We concluded that Stan is, contrastingly, largely motivated by empathy, which is most easily seen in how he reacts to various forms of activism, such as his involvement in saving the whales in the episode “Whale Whores” and the calves in “Fun With Veal.” Stan reacts to situations based on how he would feel in someone’s shoes, the textbook definition of empathy. Another great example would be the episode “With Apologies to Jesse Jackson“ where he spends the entirety of it trying to understand Token’s feelings before realizing he could never fully understand as a white person. This was him admitting that he couldn’t fully empathize, which he struggled to do for the entire episode before finally ‘getting’ it. In the case of “Butterballs,” Stan initially felt a drive to do something about bullying to help Butters. Even though his intentions didn’t stay pure, the fact remains he felt empathetic for Butters’ struggle as a victim of bullying where none of his other peers around him did the same. Under this lens, the reason Stan did not feel inclined to help Kyle figure out the deal between Heidi and Cartman in “Doubling Down” is because Stan could not empathize with Heidi’s situation or Kyle’s concern for it. He didn’t try to do so either, so he was largely disinterested in the problem where Kyle was intent to change it (note that Kyle’s sympathy/morality motivated him here- he felt bad for Heidi and thought intervening was the right thing to do.).

Pictured: Stan asking for assistance in saving the whales and dolphins in “Whale Whores” (top), Stan telling Kyle it’s not their business to intervene with Heidi and Cartman in “Doubling Down” (bottom).

Stan has historically shown more signs of being extremely loyal to Kyle in a way that Kyle has not always reciprocated, which the sympathy vs. empathy claim could also contribute to. With Stan’s connection to Kyle more emotional and his approach to life more empathetic, it makes him appear inherently more loyal to his friends. His ego can get out of hand if unchecked and he can get selfish at times, but more often than not his initial reaction to things is in regards to others as opposed to himself. He was ready to donate his kidney immediately upon learning that Kyle may need it to live in “Cherokee Hair Tampons,” even with the disclaimer of “even if it hurts a whole lot.” In comparison Kyle left Stan hanging at the end of ”You’re Getting Old” (mentioned earlier), expressing that Stan was “a bummer to be around” and that he couldn’t be a part of it as opposed to sticking with Stan to help him out of his funk. While this speaks to Kyle’s tendency to self-preserve more than anything, it also shows a lack of empathy when faced with his best friend’s struggles.

Pictured: Stan offering his kidney for Kyle in “Cherokee Hair Tampons” (top), Kyle expressing that Stan has changed negatively in “You’re Getting Old” (bottom).

Even though these theories help explain why they seemed despondent toward each other’s difficulties in season 21, it’s still apparent that the two of them have grown apart. Kyle has, throughout season 20 and season 21, been making some pretty big, potentially faulty decisions, and it’s my own theory that the reason he continues to make these embarrassing mistakes or choices is because Stan hasn’t been there to ground him the way he has in the past. Without someone next to him to help keep his head clear and conscience focused, Kyle goes off the rails with his ideas and his actions, and I’ve found myself thinking, ‘what are you doing?’ more than once. Without Stan, Kyle is out of control, and it just goes to show how dependent they really are upon each other as a unit. If Stan and Kyle were still close, I feel as though Kyle may have been much less involved in the more recent dramas of the show with Stan there to help rein him in. While the same claim can’t 100% be made for Stan, the reason for this is mostly that Stan has not had nearly as much time in the spotlight as Kyle more recently, so it’s hard to say how their drifting has affected him as well based on canon evidence. I find it significant, however, that in the finale for season 20, Stan was dashing out of his seat at a moment’s notice when Kyle requested something of him that seemed urgent- a show of his intense loyalty even when seemingly not as close as before.

With all of this said and done, it helps make Stan and Kyle’s recent reactions to one another a little easier to swallow for me, knowing that it could potentially boil down to their characters and not purely because they’re no longer interested in each other. It felt as though we had solved a puzzle coming up with this possibility. Do you think we’re totally off the rails with this one? Feel free to respond!

#meta #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #south park #south park meta #discussion post #long post #who am i kidding #it's a fucking essay #character analysis #super best friends #not shippy

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pass-the-bechdel · 6 years

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Teen Wolf season six (part 1) full review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

90% (nine of ten).

What is the average percentage per episode of female characters with names and lines?

42.52%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Six, just over half.

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

None.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Seventeen. Nine who appear in more than one episode, six who appear in at least half the episodes, and two who appear in every episode.

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Twenty. Thirteen who appear in more than one episode, nine who appear in at least half the episodes, and one who appears in every episode.

Positive Content Status:

Standard for this show, i.e. decidedly higher quality than most of what’s on tv, with dynamic variety in powerful female characters, emotionally mature and expressive male characters, and a loving, up-front embrace of queer sexuality. Nothing stands out as especially wonderful about it all this season, but it’s an average mark against which other shows regularly pale (average rating of 3).

General Season Quality:

Fantastic! Easily their most intellectually heady concept thus far in the series, and they do some wonderful crazy things with it.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

Their best male:female ratio yet! The majority of episodes at/around gender balanced, zero of them wildly male-dominated! Almost a complete Bechdel pass, which isn’t much of a thing to crow about, but at least they tended to pass significantly with the passes they had, rather than a roster of single-line-single-pass episodes. And they didn’t score a raised content rating out of the bunch, but content ratings are variable based on series standards, to an extent: if the representation in this season were mirrored in, say, a Stargate season, I’d be gushing about what a fantastic turn of events that was. I have sometimes wondered if I was too generous with Teen Wolf’s scores in the past, but compared to pretty much everything else I’ve reviewed? Nah, it’s deservedly up the top of the heap. It has set a lovely high standard for itself, and failing to outstrip that standard still leaves it above and beyond most every other standard around, so. It’s a very good problem to have. It’s the right kind of problem.

That happy ratio is owed in part to the challenge which informed the entire season: how to keep the show alive without Dylan O’Brien as a regular? This isn’t the first show I’ve reviewed that has juggled the loss or limited availability of a primary actor, but it is easily the one that has done so with the greatest success. The X Files strangled itself in its original run by pretending that Mulder was still the centre of its universe even in his absence, refusing to commit to plot advancement with its new characters and format. The Librarians has made explaining away Flynn’s latest departure into the tool that shapes each season’s arc, and it’s wearing very thin (and has at this point possibly contributed to the show’s cancellation). Stargate SG1 made more structurally sound decisions with the dilemma that initially worked, but they turned into awkward as Hell character moves later down the track (and I will be SALTY FOREVERRR!!!). Teen Wolf wisely did not introduce a new replacement character to misuse and be uncomfortable with and ditch as soon as possible, and while it does make Stiles’ absence a centrepiece and driving force of the season, it does so without allowing that to choke off personal narratives or other plot threads for the characters who remain. The characters all continue to function, and we see the empty space that Stiles has left in their lives and how that affects them, but there’s no implication that they or the show cannot function without him, and that’s a compliment to Stiles, not an insult. It’s not that he’s the glue that holds the whole thing together, but he is irreplaceable, in the cast and in the lives of his friends, and this season is a celebration of him at the same time as being a soft introduction to the way that the show can keep moving forward without him in the future. The question everyone would have been asking before this season was ‘can Teen Wolf still work successfully without its secondary character, fan-favourite, and arguably best actor?’, and obviously I think they answered that with a resounding but respectful ‘YES’.

The absence of Stiles also allows a decisively larger space for the rest of the characters to move in, since he was never a character to be shuttled off and underused of a season - to the extent that he has been the centrepiece of another past season already. I do wish that Lydia stepping up to fill that space was less anchored around her blossoming romance with Stiles, and not only because - as established in the individual episode posts - I feel like they tried too hard and overplayed the OTP card, and I didn’t really buy that the bond was as profound as they wanted us to believe. Regardless of where you stand on the relationship itself, the reality was that Lydia had an awful lot of screen time that was not about her, and obviously this blog is not here for female characters having their personal stories co-opted by dudes. Arguably, the same fate would have befallen any character who was used as the primary conduit for the Stiles side of the storyline, but I’d argue back that if it had been Scott, as the lead character on the show he would be able to balance that weight (plus his established long-term relationship with Stiles would make it easier since it’s already part of the backbone of the series, whereas the official blossoming of a relationship with Lydia and Stiles is a new development being added on top of all the pre-existing emotions at play). The Sheriff, likewise, could take the weight of Stiles’ absentee narrative without having his character drowned out by it, because Stiles is his son and he has always played a supporting role for Stiles, for that obvious reason. The loss of Stiles is successfully used as a lens through which to further explore the Sheriff as an individual here, and it’s one of the best parts of the story. Lydia, on the other hand, as her own character who does not exist within the narrative because of her relationship with anyone else, was swamped by the Stiles arc and allowed no real exploration of her own; the closest she got to her own stuff was the prospect of being the sole survivor of Beacon Hills, and that was a nonstarter. As such, while I mostly applaud the way Stiles’ absence was handled, I cannot ultimately condone what it did to Lydia, and I can’t help but wonder how that dominance of her arc could have been softened and improved by removing the forced romantic angle. I’m reminded of how they fumbled the introduction of Malia around getting her with Stiles, and the awkward attempt to set Stiles up with Cora Hale before that, and the messy Stiles/Erica dynamic before that. I think this show just didn’t know how to give Stiles a love interest in an organic story manner, and the unfortunate side effect each time has been the detriment of the female characters who are assigned to him, which makes Stiles’ love life one of the least lovely representational aspects of this entire series. Eek.

The good news is, my gripe with the way they handled Lydia is my only serious beef with an otherwise stellar season; it had other imperfections, certainly, and I wouldn’t call it their best, though it had moments when it looked that way. I coulda done without Theo, to be honest, and I’m not sure he added anything necessary to the season. Malia was kinda under-played, though I don’t mind too much because she was still a strong presence, her personal plot stuff was subtle and that’s not a bad thing. Hayden was more underplayed, and that’s less ok because she’s newer and not as clear a character as Malia, plus I feel like Theo in the last couple of episodes could have been traded out for Hayden and it wouldn’t mess up anything (valuable story time taken up by Theo scenes in general is something worth frowning about). They didn’t really explain why Douglas could control Parrish, which left our poor Dreamboat as a pawn for most of the season for no apparent reason beyond it being narratively convenient. Also they had some weirdly-spent time in the late-mid episodes of the season (starting from the same episode Theo returned...) that could have been better paced and structured to make the finale even stronger. I could sit here and complain and nitpick, but these are ultimately fairly minor quibbles (many of which can be narrowed down to one central culprit: Theo) that prevent this from being a series-best season in my eyes, though it’s still up there as a top contender and when the season was on point, it looked unstoppable. They still successfully turned in some excellent television despite the loss of one of the show’s best assets, and they still told a story about metaphysical existence that was coherent and consistent and never talked down to its audience, and that’s really something to be happy about. They still gave us a Nazi Alpha werewolf in a subplot that was as outrageous as it was restrained, plus they made good use of Corey, whose presence I was not sure would work out in the long run for the show. I will always be available to rail against unnecessary romances and unnecessary Theos, but that doesn’t change the fact that this show remains a delight and a blessing, not only in terms of the positive representation it offers this blog but also for the wild, bombastic, unashamed imagination it offers us all.

#Teen Wolf #Teen Wolf season six #Bechdel Test #female representation #full season review

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bluraaven · 6 years

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Smoke and Mirrors

El Abuelo is the most notorious of crime bosses, and it falls to Special Agent Reynauld Maurouard to take him down. His only lead: Dismas, an ex-bandit whose outfit was in the mobster's hire. Things go downhill from there.

Chapter 1

Special Agent Reynauld Maurouard couldn't say that filling out forms was his favourite occupation, but paperwork was a necessary evil when you worked in law enforcement. When a shadow fell over him, blocking out the light, he put down his pen and straightened. Reynauld could have sworn that he could hear as well as feel some disks in his back pop into place. Or out of it. Something to worry about later.

"How's it going?" the man leaning on his desk asked, a faint smile playing around his mouth as he surveyed the battlefield that was Reynauld's workspace.

"How'd you think?" Reynauld grunted, rubbing his hands over his face until he saw stars. For the past hour the letters had been running together, but he needed to finish this before tomorrow or he'd have his superiors breathing down his neck. "I'm elbows deep in reports."

"Ain't we all?" Guyot asked. In the clinically cold light of the neon lamps the dark circles around his eyes were all the more prominent, and his freckles were a stark contrast to his pale skin. He looked just as exhausted as Reynauld felt.

As if he had read his thoughts, Guyot lifted a silver can, giving it an inviting swirl, and instantly the rich aroma of roasted beans permeated the stale office air. "Coffee?"

When he saw Reynauld hesitating, he was quick to add, "It's good, I tested it. On Marci." Guyot looked around, guilt written all over his face, but in the end he just shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

Reynauld chuckled. When some higher ups had thought it a great idea to put the PD and forensics in the same building – talk about corruption – and some of the doctors were evidently as mentally unstable as the criminals they pursued, caution saved you from getting yourself into a lot of trouble. "Is she still among the living?"

"Aye, the living and the conscious," Guyot replied easily.

"Then yes, please." Reynauld had to shift some folders to find his mug buried underneath them and held it out for Guyot to fill.

Which he did, right up to the brim, eying some of the papers strewn all over the desk in the process. "What'cha got here? Montgomery case?"

"M-hmm," Reynauld hummed and took a sip of scalding hot fermented–bean–juice. He closed his eyes for a moment to savour it.

"What a shitshow," Guyot observed. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we got him. Just because the man was in politics and old money, don't mean he's above justice." He stopped; they'd talked more than their fair share about it. The case had been all over the news for weeks, and by now everybody who had worked on it was fed up with it. It was time to wrap it up and to move on.

"Anyway, the guys wanna know if you're coming to the track run. We're up against the boys from Eastside distinct."

Track run. That rang a bell. Reynauld frowned; he had quite forgotten about the charity event. "When's it?"

"Next weekend."

"I can't," Reynauld replied and didn't have to fake the regret. Those competition between departments were usually a lot of fun and a good way to get to know new people, make some contacts. "Thio's over, and I promised him we'll go camping."

"Aw, damn. We're losing our best man." But Guyot said it with a smile. He knew how much those weekends meant to Reynauld. "How is the big man?"

"Growing bigger every day." The thought of his son never failed to put a smile on Reynauld's face. "I can't believe he's about to turn eight. Eve wanted to have a party. You're invited of course, provided you can stand a horde of children high on sugar.

"You know I'd never miss out, and Lucy's been wanting to visit anyway. We'll pop in, say hi, and evac if it gets too bad." Guyot laughed and Reynauld had to join in. Fair was fair. They had served in the army together, and when they had quit the force it had been his friend's contacts that had given Reynauld a job here in the city.

"Chin up, soldier. One more week and it's over," Guyot said. "Maybe the chief's even gonna give you a promotion!"

Reynauld snorted at the thought, which should be answer enough. If you couldn't find pride in the police work but wanted praise, you had to join the K-9 units. As a dog. On most days, Reynauld did enjoy it; doing something good, something useful. He thanked Guyot for the offering of artificial energy that would get him through the evening and waved when the other man took his leave.

Just a few more hours, and he'd be able to go home. Put a lid on the whole thing and give himself a pat on the shoulder. From a framed picture, one of the few private possessions he kept at work, Reynauld's family was smiling at him.

He sighed and picked up his pen again.

Reynauld wished a person could refuel on good mood like a vehicle could on gasoline, because Monday came cloaked in chaos, like a true harbinger of a bad week.

Over the weekend, he had taken Thio out of the city and to a natural preserve that had a nice lake and easy trails. Maybe when his son was older, Reynauld would be able to take him hiking in the Hinterlands, but that would be in a couple of years at the earliest.

Now, he was running late for work since his alarm had given up on life sometime in the middle of the night. Thanks to years of military service and an affinity for the early morning hours, he still managed to wake almost on time. Maintenance works on the train rails forced him to take his car however, and he promptly found himself stuck in an unmoving column of other unfortunate souls braving the morning traffic.

When he had finally made it to the intersection, he almost had an accident when some idiot on a motorbike ran a red light and cut him off, disappearing between a delivery van and a taxi before Reynauld had a chance to catch his plate number.

The rest of the drive passed without incident, thankfully. The RPD, the Riverside Police Department, was located some two miles outside of the city center, and just about ten walking minutes from the Riverside train station. The building had a long history, beginning with it originally being built as a summer residence for Emperor Harauld. Since then it had served as university, a hospital, and finally the casern it was to this day.

There was nothing inherently inviting about the grey and cheerless stonework, but it was far from the worst place to work. In the large courtyard, Barristan had some sweaty-looking recruits in training clothes lined up. Reynauld returned the wave the one-eyed drill sergeant greeted him with, and hurried on.

As soon as he pulled open the door, he was struck by the lack of usual activity. The quiet of the waiting room was disturbed only by the hum of the ceiling fan, its blades rotating lazily. The air was thick with the smells of stale coffee and smoke, even though smoking inside had been prohibited by law several years ago. Underlying those was a faint odour of office: a less-than enticing mix of sweat, paper, and cleaning agents.

There was nobody seated behind the two front desks, and that was unusual enough to make Reynauld double-check his mobile and pager, nervous about maybe having overlooked a message. Special Weapons And Tactics carried those to call them to operations too dangerous for regular police officers to handle. Riot control wasn't much of an issue these days anymore, so they mostly handled search warrants and cases that involved organized crime, which in turn were usually linked to weapon or narcotics dealership, or illegal betting. They had special training; and were authorized to carry military equipment, but the rest of the time, they were law enforcement agents like any other. Reynauld did his fair share of patrols, reports and other sorts of office work.

Both the pager and his phone's screens were blank, so he had not missed some emergency. He decided to go to his office first; maybe Guyot would be able to tell him what was going on. He never got that far though, because Reynauld almost collided with Marci when he jogged up the stairs.

"Where is everyone?"

"Mallory's office," the young police officer replied, sounding out of breath. "Linesi's taken out two teams – there has been another robbery."

Another one. Reynauld's heart sank. "Where?"

"Central," Maci replied, biting her lip.

Reynauld nodded, and hurried past her. Mallory saw him and waved from the door to her office. She was a tall, no-nonsense kind of person who wore her black hair short and whom he had never seen out of a suit. She had worked her way up to deputy director and it was generally assumed she would one day replace the Chief when he retired.

She was holding a meeting, and a grapevine of people was clustered in the room which seemed too small all of a sudden. Gatherings like this didn't usually happen unless it was someone's birthday or something bad had occurred. Reynauld didn't need Marci to tell him which one this was, he could have guessed by the absence of cake and smiles upon the faces of those around him.

Reynauld took up position in the back of the group. He had to stand on his toes to be able to look over all their heads and see what held their attention. The flatscreen was a video playing footage from what could only be a security camera. Reynauld had missed most of it, but he arrived just in time to see a black-masked burglar breathe steam on the camera's lens. The quality of the recording was not good enough to tell whether it was a man or a woman before fog was all they could see. And then a heart appeared where the condensation was wiped away with the tip of one finger. Seconds later, the tv flickered to black, and that was it.

In the silence that followed one would have been able to hear a pin drop. And that was saying something since the office was carpeted.

"When did this happen?" Reynauld finally asked when he realized nobody else was going to.

"We received the tape this morning," Mallory answered, and turned off the television with an annoyed flick of her wrist. "This was recorded on Sunday evening."

"I thought the cemetery had a security firm doing surveillance, and we'll get notified as soon as something happens?" someone to Reynauld's right called out.

A muscle in Mallory's jaw twitched, but her tone did not betray her frustration. "They disabled the security system," she informed them.

"Shit!" somebody else cursed, which earned them a glower from Mallory, but by then the room had burst into chaos; everybody was calling out ideas and talking one over the other.

"Rey." Mallory's hand landed on his shoulder a moment later, and her voice lowered, despite the chance of being overheard being close to zero. "The Chief wants a word."

Reynauld nodded at her and left the room, leaving her to bring back order to the meeting. His boss was not the most patient of men, and there was no reason to antagonize him, especially since he very much did not want to draw attention to his tardiness.

The Chief's office was at the end of the second story corridor. A golden plate was screwed to the door, but Reynauld did not even glance at it. His knuckles had barely made contact with the wood when he was told to enter, and he stepped into Chief Vvulf's domain.

The room was just like he remembered it. Most of it was taken up by a large desk, and the walls were lined with shelves that were slowly beginning to bend under their load. At some point an effort had been made to make the office look more homely, but the plants had not lasted long. The Chief had kept but one, and the fact that it was a cactus really spoke for itself.

He was in his middle years, with short grey hair and the figure of a powerful man who was slowly getting out of shape. "What did she tell you?" the Chief began without so much as a word of greeting. He was seated in a big leather armchair behind his desk.

Guessing that he must have meant Mallory, Reynauld answered, "The central cemetery was hit by a masked felon nicknamed the Graverobber."

The Chief nodded, then made a hand gesture for Reynauld to close the door and take a seat. "This ain't for anybody's ears," he grunted.

"Sir?"

Vvulf laced his fingers together on his stomach, fixing his unblinking gaze on Reynauld. "There's no point tiptoeing around it. I don't shout it from the rooftops, but my family's history goes back a long way. The mausoleum that was hit yesterday wasn't just anyone. These attacks are have become a personal matter now. We, the police, are being targeted, and the situation has gotten out of control."

Reynauld had not known that the Chief was related to any of the old nobility, but then perhaps the knowledge should not surprise him; one did not rise to the rank of Chief without some good connections. There was very little Reynauld actually knew about the man who was his boss, despite having worked for him for years. Vvulf was someone who valued his privacy and didn't get too friendly with his subordinates.

"So we take down the ones responsible," Reynauld deducted, still unsure why he was here. Certainly it was not so that his boss could make that little confession?

"You're a smart man, Maurouard," Vvulf pointed out, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"You don't think they're acting out of their own agenda," Reynauld deduced, remembering the video Mallory had shown them. The Graverobber's actions had struck him as being... provocative, almost. They certainly had wanted to be seen, maybe to send some kind of message.

"No. I do not," the Chief confirmed with a pleased nod. "Whether we like it or not, the old families are the foundation which this city is built upon."

Reynauld noticed he spoke as if he did not belong to one of them, despite his earlier admission.

"And there are those who would benefit from weakening it, from sowing discord, uncertainty and fear. From making us look weak and incompetent. If the people do not feel safe," the Chief said and leaned forward on his elbows as if he was to share a great secret, "Whom will they turn to for protection?"

"So these attacks are not a coincidence," Reynauld summed up. Everybody had presumed as much, but they still lacked solid proof. "And you suspect one of the northern cartels?"

Vvulf was shaking his head before Reynauld had even finished speaking. "Not just any one of them." Reynauld wanted to ask if he really thought he could be behind all this, but the Chief continued. "El Abuelo has plenty of reason to target us," Vvulf pointed out. "We may not know what his final goal is, but men like him feed off chaos. They always look for weaknesses, for a way to expand their power. We need to stop him – ," the Chief broke off abruptly, and Reynauld imagined he could hear the ghost of an at all costs.

He did not comment. El Abuelo was one of the, if not the most notorious of crime bosses. Reynauld was still trying to come to terms with everything he had learned, when Vvulf said,

"I want you to be the Special Agent in Charge on this case."

"Me?"

"Do you see anyone else in this room?" Vvulf demanded to know. "Yes, you."

"Why?" Reynauld blurted out, which, in hindsight, probably wasn't the smartest thing to say. He was still reeling from all the information – a moment ago he had not even known there was a case; now he had been told he was to lead a major investigation that involved one of the most dangerous men in the North. And was not the most experienced man the Chief had, and huge cases like this were usually given to the senior officers.

Vvulf's lips pursed in thought. "You did some good work," he finally said, but even guff praise from the Chief was quite something. "I like that you are efficient and discreet and I trust you to handle delicate matters without causing a scandal. This is your chance, Maurouard. Prove me I'm right, and who knows, this seat might one day belong to you," he added and laughed at his own joke, a rare sign he had a sense of humour, buried somewhere deep inside.

The corner of Reynauld's mouth tugged upwards. "Thinking about retiring, Sir?" It would be hard to imagine the PD without Vvulf there to lead them, he was such a huge personality. A tough boss with high expectations, but a fair one.

"There's one of them Southern beaches that has my name on it," Vvulf said, but his eyes were already narrowing. "You look like there's something on your mind. Spit it out, what is it?"

"I was actually hoping to take some time off," Reynauld confessed. He was tired from merely thinking about the upcoming work load. He deserved a vacation, and he still had three weeks good from last year that he was going to lose soon – as his boss knew very well.

Vvulf leaned back, making his leather armchair creak. "Tell you what," he decided. "If time wasn't of the essence, I'd let you go right now. I will let you keep your three weeks, and if we get El Abuelo, I'll top it off with a month of paid leave extra, so you can spend some time with your boy – family's everything, after all. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a deal, Sir." Reynauld could barely believe the offer he'd been made; it was quite unheard of. But he trusted his boss not to pull him over. And if they got El Abuelo, Vvulf would be basking in the attention of the media. He might even be hailed a city hero.

"Excellent," the Chief said, sounding pleased. "You'll be happy to know we already have a lead."

That certainly was news. "We do?" Reynauld asked, cocking his brow.

"The Graverobber is not operating on his or her own," Vvulf replied. "There is no way they could disable the security system and rob the mausoleum in time before we were alerted of the shutdown. They have an accomplice." The Chief turned and got up, reaching to take a folder off the shelf behind him. He dropped it on the table and flipped it towards Reynauld who opened it.

The first page was taken up by a close-up of a man's face. For reasons unknown the photograph was black and white, but Reynauld did not need colour to recognize him.

"Dismas," he said, remembering the name because it was actually that of the penitent thief from the Verse of Light. An alias then.

Reynauld wasn't sure if the rogue was ballsy, or merely an arsehole.

"Aye," Vvulf confirmed, his greying brows drawing together. "One right bloody fucker. He's guilty of more than some harmless misconduct too. The man's an ex-bandit, and former member of the Wolves."

Reynauld flipped the first page. There was a list of information they had managed to collect on the man. The first line read:

Real name: Valance Paixdecouer.

"Paixdecouer," Reynauld said slowly, thinking. "Is the name given to orphans raised by the Order."

Vvulf nodded. "I see I chose the right man for the job. Pick your team, Maurouard, and get started straight away. This has top priority from now on until I tell you otherwise. "

Reynauld closed the folder with a snap and picked it up, resting it against the crook of his elbow. "What about the Montgomery case, Sir?"

"Just hand it over to someone else," Vvulf said. "Mallory will handle it, if no one else will. You can report to her, if I'm not here."

Reynauld nodded, "You said Dismas ran with the Wolves?" He had heard a lot about the gang, but it had fallen apart and its members had scattered when their leader had disappeared. Apparently there had been some sort of falling out between who they only knew as the Wolf, and El Abuelo.

"The Wolf was El Abuelo's hireling," the Chief said after a brief pause. "Therefore, if we find him," Vvulf said, tapping one fat finger against picture-Dismas' temple, "Maybe we can retrace his connection right back to the source."

"Do we know his whereabouts then?" Reynauld wanted to know. Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement. The Wolf had disappeared a little bit over a decade ago – either laying low, or killed by El Abuelo himself. Even if he was alive, he had had enough time to cover his tracks. It was unlikely they would find him – unlikely, but not impossible.

"Unfortunately, we do not," Vvulf confirmed Reynauld's suspicion. "Every time we were tipped off and the team's gotten close, he has slipped through our nets. Man doesn't hang out in one place for very long. The good thing is: We got somebody who was close to him."

"How do you know-"

Vvulf waved his hand in a dismissing gesture and Reynauld dropped that thread to ask a far more important question.

"Has he told us anything?"

"Not yet," the Chief said in a tone that made it crystal clear he would, sooner rather than later – even if he had to wring the answers out of the prisoner himself. "But he will. And when he does, I want you and your team to be ready. This could be the biggest strike against organized crime in fifty years!"

"Yes, Sir!" Reynauld saluted the Chief with the folder and turned on his heel. Guyot was the first one on his team. They had an uncatchable criminal to capture. Reynauld had always liked a challenge.

AN: You can also find the story here, on AO3!

#blu's corner #writing #fanfiction #darkest dungeon #dismas #reynauld #Reymas #alternative universe #Modern Setting #Grave Robber

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