Because I’m a sucker for the bad boy/class clown/troublemaker character utterly suffering, I am once again thinking about Sirius Black and his infinite whump potential. Everyone loves to make Remus suffer, myself included ofc, I’m not one to pass up a werewolf opportunity but something about Sirius is just *chef’s kiss*.
(tw: mention of familial abuse, physical and emotional, as well as alcohol)
I think it’s the fact that the canon information we have about him leaves so much room for the mind to wander. I imagine him at Grimmauld Place in the summer, either getting injured in altercations at home, likely with his mother, and taking the floo as an escape to James’ or Remus’. Especially if he goes to Moony, chances are he’d be embarrassed and ashamed to be in such a vulnerable state, and Remus would reassure him that after all the full moons he helped him get through he was happy to return the favour.
I imagine him showing up absolutely pissed, unsure of how to cope with his situation in a more productive way than drinking. I think about him falling ill at home, but he’s not fucking going to his mum about it, and Kreacher isn’t the most helpful, so he has to sheepishly enlist a friend to help him. Maybe he brushes it off to the point that they’ve got to make a stop at St. Mungo’s.
I imagine the time where James has finally had enough and wants him to move in, but they need to get some of his belongings from Grimmauld Place before the move, and they go on a stealth mission to sneak in and out of the house undetected. I want Remus to join them and fall even more in love with Sirius when he sees his bedroom, with hot muggle girls plastered to the wall, gryffindor garb strewn proudly about the place both to stick it to his family but also to try to feel at home in that place.
I want to see Sirius both craving intimacy and closeness but being guarded and unable to relax at first. Being touch starved for his childhood makes it difficult but there is still a deep longing to have comfort of being near someone. Perhaps spending time as Padfoot helps with him overcoming this.
All of these issues would be so compounded post Azkaban, and new ones would surely arise. I want a more in depth perspective of trying to navigate his emotions after being stuck in that place. I want to see how he manages on the run and in hiding after his body was ravaged in prison. I want Remus’ heart to break when he sees what his friend has been reduced to, and for Sirius to be crushed with guilt and responsibility that Remus had to go through all those moons completely and utterly alone, believing to have been betrayed by his closest friend which resulted in the seeming demise of his other two.
I want him to feel lost in the world, lacking an identity, being snatched away at such a young age, and being both emotionally stunted and feeling exceedingly old and weathered at the same time. I want him to be fragile, physically and mentally, susceptible to injury and illness, especially sleeping in caves and eating rats. I want all of the angst and the pain and the comfort and the wholesomeness that could come with properly exploring his character’s story.
If Harry Potter squicks you out now (valid, fuck Joanne) replace these characters with your favs, anywho, damn I do love taking the hollow bones the canon gives us and filling it out with my own thoughts
I’m looking specifically for third person rp using OC’s, and I’m generally looking for h/c situations, though we can also do stuffing if that interests you. Gotta be willing to take turns being the sickie/caretaker tho, as I like to write from both roles :)
We’re looking for cover art for Hurt and Comfort: A Whump Anthology. This is your time to shine, whump artists!
Theme: Whump-related artwork. You can interpret that however you want! We just ask that it be SFW. Also, blood is fine, but please no excessive gore.
Submissions open: May 1, 2022
Open for submissions until: August 1, 2022
Voting open: August 2 - August 15, 2022
Entries will be voted on by the whump community. The editors will then pick the winning cover from the top three pieces.
Tentative Publication Date: September 27, 2022
The Nitty-Gritty
Medium: Any
File Format: .png or .jpeg
Simultaneous submissions: Allowed, but let us know immediately if your art is accepted somewhere else.
Multiple Submissions: No
Reprints: Allowed, as long as you retain the rights to let us use your art. Please indicate where your art was originally published. This includes if your art was originally posted on AO3, Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, etc.!
Rights: Nonexclusive worldwide electronic and print rights. All copyright remains with the artist. A simple contract will be provided.
Compensation: The selected artist will be paid $100 (usd). The two runner ups will both be paid $25 (usd).
Submissions are open to residents of any country.
You must be 18 or older to submit.
Absolutely NO minor whump or animal whump
No fanart, for legal reasons.
We will overlay the title over the winning art, so please don’t include it.
A link to submit your piece through will be provided on May 1!
The whump community is one of the kindest, friendliest, and most supportive communities on the internet. Without the support I’ve gotten through this community, I don’t think I would have ever developed confidence in my writing abilities and pursued my dream of becoming a published author. It is not an exaggeration that this community has been truly life-changing for me, and I’ve finally figured out how to give back.
I @whumpy-writings and my co-editor @thecyrulik are starting The Whumpy Printing Press to help whump writers fulfill their dreams of seeing their words in print.
Starting May 1, we will be collecting stories for Hurt and Comfort: A Whump Anthology. This book will be self-published in ebook, hardcover, and paperback.
Theme: This anthology is a celebration of the whump community. We take a broad view of whump- it can be physical or emotional. Your stories can be hurt no comfort or comfort no hurt, just as long as they touch on whump in some way.
This looks like it may be exciting! I know this is probably just the initial post on the project, but couple of important questions all writers should ask before submitting (I couldn’t find an ask button on your page):
1) what platform(s) is this being published on?
2) is this book being sold?
3) if so, what is being done with any profits? Are they going back to the contributors, or are they going to a charity? (either is very common for fanzines/fanbooks like this)
4) if physical copies will be produced, is there a reason that contributors are only getting an ebook? (it’s common for contributors to fanbooks to receive a physical copy, or at least to be able to purchase one for reduced cost)
Thanks for pointing out the ask button is missing, it should be there now!
These are some really awesome questions! I’ll do my best to answer them with the information l have now. Details will be finalized in the coming months!
1) The physical book will be published at least on Amazon, and I am currently researching other print-on-demand companies as well since I know some people don’t want to support Amazon. (if anybody has recommendations, let me know!) The ebook will be available via Amazon as well as major ebook sites such as Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, etc.
2) The book is being sold.
3) All profits from the sale of the book will be donated to a charity (to be voted on by the contributors)
4) I decided that contributors were only getting an ebook mostly because of budgetary constraints. That being said, I can look into the logistics involved in providing physical copies at a reduced price for contributors, and I’ll provide an update once I’ve decided what is feasible!
Welcome to The Whumpy Printing Press, run by @whumpy-writingsand@thecyrulik! Currently, we are collecting submissions for Hurt and Comfort: A Whump Anthology. Submissions for stories and cover art are open until August 1. We can’t wait to see your work!
Theme: Whump-related artwork. You can interpret that however you want! We just ask that it be SFW. Also, blood is fine, but please no excessive gore.
Submissions open: May 1, 2022
Submissions close: August 1, 2022
Voting open: August 2 - August 15, 2022
Entries will be voted on by the whump community. The editors will then pick the winning cover from the top three pieces.
Tentative Publication Date: September 27, 2022
The Nitty-Gritty
Medium: Any
File Format: .png or .jpeg
Dimensions: The cover will be 6 x 9 inches (15.24 x 22.86 cm or 2560 x 1600 pixels)
Simultaneous submissions: Allowed, but let us know immediately if your art is accepted somewhere else.
Multiple Submissions: No
Reprints: Allowed, as long as you retain the rights to let us use your art. Please indicate where your art was originally published. This includes if your art was originally posted on AO3, Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, etc.!
Rights: Nonexclusive worldwide electronic and print rights. All copyright remains with the artist. A simple contract will be provided.
Compensation: The selected artist will be paid $100 (usd). The two runner ups will both be paid $25 (usd).
Submissions are open to residents of any country.
You must be 18 or older to submit.
Absolutely NO minor whump or animal whump
No fanart, for legal reasons.
We will overlay the title over the winning art, so please don’t include it.
Theme: This anthology is a celebration of the whump community. We take a broad view of whump- it can be physical or emotional. Your stories can be hurt no comfort or comfort no hurt, just as long as they touch on whump in some way.
Stories can be oneshots or an excerpt from a larger work.
Submissions open: May 1, 2022
Submissions close: August 1, 2022
Tentative Publication Date: September 27, 2022
The Nitty-Gritty
Word count: 1000-4,000 words
Simultaneous submissions: Allowed, but let us know immediately if your story is accepted somewhere else.
Multiple Submissions: No
Reprints: Allowed, as long as you retain the rights to let us use your story. Please indicate where your story was originally published. This includes if your story was originally posted on AO3 or Tumblr!
Rights: Nonexclusive worldwide electronic and print rights. All copyright remains with the author. A simple contract will be provided.
Compensation: One ebook contributor’s copy.
Submissions are open to residents of any country.
You must be 18 or older to submit.
Absolutely NO minor whump or animal whump
No fanfiction, for legal reasons. This includes thinly veiled fanfiction.
Edits: Stories will be lightly edited for spelling and grammar. The content of the story will not be changed, and all edits will be sent to you for approval.
Summary: Lila had made good on her promise to make sure Marinette lost her friends. She didn’t do it by antagonizing Marinette, she didn’t convince everyone Marinette was a bully, no, Lila Rossi made everyone forget about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. They replaced her with a liar, with Fool’s Gold, and even though it hurt she knew she had to move on. They replaced her, so it only seemed fitting she replace them so she could heal and be happy.
They truly didn’t know what they lost till it was gone.
Did You Hear?
To run a boulangerie/patisserie was no walk in the park, especially not to run one in Paris, France, more so if it was a popular one that was known for its treats by many. That was Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie and Patisserie to a T, it was loved by many, it had a good chunk of regulars, and it tended to stay busy no matter the time of day. That was why they were looking to hire more help. Sure, Marinette helped when she could, but that was just the problem, “when she could” started to turn into a less and less frequent thing. She was busy with her friends and she was busy with her own work as a designer. Of course they were proud of her, but they had always hoped she would take over for them, even with her clumsiness. So it hurt to admit they couldn’t rely on her like they wanted to, thus the post on their official social media pages went up, as well as their signs. Word spread that Tom and Sabine were looking to hire, and they were beyond pleased.
They had many applicants apply, and they had already done their fair share of interviews, and yet, no one stood out to the couple. There had been teens looking for a part-time job or just work experience in general, they even had some regulars apply, and yet, none of them felt like the right fit for the shop. Then a woman came in, she was a single mother looking for a job that would help support her child and her better than all the multiple part-time gigs she worked already. She wanted stability and was willing to work for it. They were instantly taken in with her drive to work and her obvious compassion for her child. She was Italian so she hit it off with Tom right away as he told stories of his mother and she shared her own. She did admit she had no baking experience other than baking in her own home but she told them she was more than willing to learn and would put in the effort to do so.
Maybe it was foolish, maybe it was risky, but they both really liked her and felt like she would be the perfect fit for their shop, so they hired her on the spot. Giada Rossi was the newest employee at Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie and Patisserie, and all were thrilled. Tom and Sabine had another set of hands to help lighten their ever increasing load, and Giada had a well paying job that would let her quit all her small paying, time consuming, part-time jobs. It was a happy moment that was shared with some eclairs, handshakes, and a goodbye from the couple with a promise to work hard from Giada in return. It made the whole day feel lighter for Tom and Sabine, soon they would have more help, they wouldn’t have to wonder whether or not Marinette could help them out or not.
It was a wonderful start to their day, so why did it have to take such a turn? No, it wasn’t an akuma, there wasn’t an emergency that disturbed their day, it was a comment. A simple thing that was said without much thought, but maybe that’s what made it worse? It was said with such casualty, like it was something they should have known, or should have been funny, and instead it was like an anchor dropped in their stomachs.
“Can you believe this?” Nadja had asked with a laugh as she held up her phone, though she failed to notice she hadn’t exactly shown Sabine what she had been talking about. Tom was out front with her as it was after the lunch rush and it had been helping out with the influx of customers they always got during lunch.
“I don’t think I’m caught up on the latest gossip, Nadj.” Sabine joked as she boxed up her friend’s order, she made sure nothing was smudged or broken as she placed them in the box before closing the lid and finishing off the order with a ribbon.
“Oh it’s so silly! Some magazine reporter saw Marinette having lunch with Jagged Stone and his assistant and they thought Marinette was their daughter.” Nadja said with a laugh as she turned her phone to face Sabine and show her friend what she was talking about. “Now everyone is coming forward with pictures of the trio to show off the “Rolling-Stone Family,” it’s so funny.”
Nadja said it was silly, it was funny, but when Sabine saw the picture of her daughter sitting at a table at what seemed to be that new café she had been talking about for months and had wanted her and her father to visit with her, with Jagged and Penny, she felt a lump in her throat. They did look like a family, she couldn’t even deny it. With the way you could see Penny mid-shake of her head with a fond smile on her face as Jagged ruffled Marinette’s hair and how the little Chinese-French teen was trying to slap away his hand as she laughed. It would have made for a warm wholesome picture if it didn’t make Sabine’s heart squeeze nor made her feel like she had been hit with a tidal wave of guilt. That should have been her and Tom sitting with their daughter, laughing with her, having a meal with her. When…when was the last time they had a meal like that together?
“Sabine?”
“Hm? Oh. Oh! Sorry Nadja. That is funny. Here’s your order, I hope you have a good rest of your day, say ‘Hi’ to Manon for me and Tom.” Sabine said with the best smile she could muster as she tried to rush her friend out so she could be alone with her thoughts for a moment.
“Oh, uh, merci Sabine. I’ll talk to you later.” Nadja gave Sabine an awkward smile as she grabbed her order and made her way to the door with a short wave, one Sabine barely returned.
Once she saw the door close with a final click, she immediately grabbed her phone from its spot under the counter. Usually she was never on her phone unless it was an emergency or her break, but this was something she had to see, had to look at with her own eyes. She wouldn’t tell Tom, not yet, not until they closed. There was no need to cause him worry and distract him while he was in the kitchen. No, no, that was a disaster waiting to happen, so she would just tell him once their day was done. But what exactly would she tell him? Marinette had lunch with Jagged and Penny? No. If she said that, Tom would just be happy for their daughter and the fact she was achieving more success in her dream towards being a designer. He wouldn’t understand, so she would have to see just how far this “silly” rumor went so she could warn him beforehand. Her husband had always been the more emotional of the two, he let things get to him very easily, an example being his akumatization. In that way, he and Marinette were very similar, sometimes she just didn’t know what was going on with her daughter.
Maybe that’s why that picture, that article, and all the other pictures she was now looking at made her heart wrench. When was the last time her daughter smiled at her and Tom the way she was smiling at Penny and Jagged in the photos, or laughed and joked with them, there was one picture that nearly made her cry then and there if she hadn’t heard the bell of the door ring. She helped the customer or customers out but it was all a haze, before she knew it, it was closing time and even that passed in a haze. Tom made his usual conversation she was sure, but she wasn’t certain if she actually responded in kind or not, she just went through the motions. She wasn’t even sure when they had gotten upstairs into their living room but she felt herself being led to the couch and all she could think was how thankful she was for her husband and how kind and caring he was.
“Mon chou?” She heard Tom say softly.
“It’s…It’s stupid.” Sabine wasn’t going to pretend there was nothing wrong, because she felt like everything was.
“Feelings aren’t stupid, especially not yours Sabine. What happened?” Tom asked as he took one of her hands in his.
“Are we good parents?”
“…I would like to think we are Honeybun. Where is this coming from?”
“Tom. We forgot Marinette’s birthday.” The words were out in the air before she could stop them and the memory of the last picture she had seen came flooding back. Jagged and Penny were standing on either side of Marinette as the girl smiled down at a cake full of candles in a dimly lit room. All three were wearing party hats and the biggest smiles for the world to see and it ripped at Sabine’s heart. She couldn’t even bring herself to read the caption that Jagged had written out, there was no doubt it was probably heartfelt and sweet. She couldn’t even describe the picture to Tom so she handed him her phone that had the picture still there when she unlocked it. She flinched when she heard his sharp intake of breath.
“What…?” Was all that came out of his lips and Sabine understood. She did, she really did, but she needed him to say more, anything more. She couldn’t stand the silence that stretched as her husband looked down at the picture on her phone, despite him being a large man, he looked incredibly small in that moment as he cradled her phone in his hands and just shook his head in disbelief. “We forgot…we never forget.”
“It was last week and we forgot.” She confirmed as she stared at nothing in particular straight ahead. “And…and that’s not all.”
“Sabine? What do you mean? What could be worse than missing her birthday? Is she hurt? Is Marinette hurt?” Tom asked in a hurry, already ready to run into action, but all Sabine had to do was put a hand on his arm for him to somewhat calm down and sit back down on the couch beside her.
“She’s not hurt. Physically at least, I can’t say for sure she’s not hurt emotionally with us.” Sabine explained, if it was even possible, Tom seemed to deflate further into himself. “And by ‘that’s not all,’ I meant, there are more moments like that one on my phone. You just have to scroll to see them.”
She didn’t watch but she knew he was going through the pictures she had seen and probably others she had not. She didn’t have the heart to keep looking at the admittedly long list of posts that had to do with her daughter, Jagged and Penny as a “family.” The thought of it stung the more she tried not to think about it, but she couldn’t fight it, when was the last time they had done anything as a family? Not something that was for the bakery even if it was all three of them, nothing for Marinette’s school that was obligatory, and not a holiday or just their dinners. How sad was that? She couldn’t even count breakfast nor lunch as they weren’t always together or it was rushed, it really was sad and it made the pang in her heart sharpen.
Sabine heard Tom grinding his teeth so she turned to look at him and saw the powerful grip he had on her phone and the intense look he was giving it so she gently took it from him and pressed the side button to put it to sleep. “Tom?”
“Give me a minute.” He rasped out before he exhaled loudly and planted his face in his hands. Where once he looked as stiff and ready to pop at a moment’s notice like a wind-up toy, now he just looked defeated. “How did we miss so much? Sabine … this … this is…”
“It’s bad. I know. Tom … Tom we missed so much.” Sabine couldn’t hold back the sob that forced its way out at the end of her sentence.
She felt her husband rub circles into her back as she cried. “I don’t know. I… we’ve really messed up.” He mumbled wetly.
“Her birthday… We have to make it up to her somehow. I just can’t believe we forgot! We didn’t forget last year so how is this year any different?” Sabine asked, though she didn’t really expect a response.
Tom was quiet, he was never quiet, not even in his sleep, his snores had taken time to get used to but now they were something that lulled Sabine to sleep. “Last year… Last year, didn’t her friends help plan a party for her?”
“No? No. I think last year was the dinner with your father and mother.”
“Are you sure? I don’t remember that, I remember my mom and dad, I just don’t remember dinner… maybe if I go through my pictures.” Sabine watched her husband pull out his phone and still continued to watch as he most likely went through his picture like he said he would do. Though, the more she watched, the more the pit in her stomach grew, Tom’s face had become so distraught merely moments after he had begun his search.
“Tom?”
“Sabine…Sabine, we have so much more to apologize for. We haven’t been the best parents…and that’s hard to admit but I think we also have to admit we haven’t even been goodparents.”
“Tom, what do you mean?” Sabine asked, she hated how her voice shook and her mouth felt like cotton.
She heard her husband take in a shaky breath before he ran a hand over his face. “We… Sabine… We weren’t here for her birthday last year.”
Her heart dropped. “What? No… No, that can’t be right. If, and that is a big ‘if’ Tom, if we weren’t here, where were we?”
“Honeybun, we were at Europain.” Her husband’s voice came out strained as he answered.
“We were at the exhibition…that’s right. We got tickets because we had been saving up, but the dates…”
“They were during Marinette’s birthday.”
“I remember.” Sabine mumbled brokenly. “I remember because we were so happy but then your mother had called and asked what we were doing for Marinette’s birthday because she was going to be in town.”
“And we panicked because we forgot. We forgot her birthday was coming up and we didn’t have enough money set aside to get Marinette a ticket so we could take her with us.” Tom continued her train of thought.
“We told her we had had the tickets for a while…we lied, Tom…we told her we had forgotten about them and she told us to go. That’s when your mom offered to watch Marinette for the days we would be gone…”
“And that’s when my mom and dad took Marinette out to dinner. They sent us a picture of them all.” Tom finished. There were no more words said between the two. Really, what else could be said?
What finally broke their seemingly never ending silence was the sound of the front door opening and closing. Sabine winced when she felt her neck pop from how fast her and Tom looked over at the door from their spots on the couch, Marinette who had just walked in stared back at them. Sabine had opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out, she guessed the same could be said about her husband. The small family just stared at one another before Marinette shrugged and gave them a small smile, Sabine let herself feel some small amount of hope. Maybe they still had a chance to reconcile their relationship, Sabine didn’t know how they would but she was confident they would be able to. They were the Dupain-Chengs’! People always admired them, always complimented them on having a wonderful business and beautiful family, so they could surely get over this little hurdle. There was no doubt in Sabine’s mind.
“Good, I’m glad you guys are here.” Marinette said as she made her way over to them, but instead of sitting on the bigger couch with them she pulled the foot rest of the chair so it was on the other side of the coffee table and took a seat on it.
“Where,” Tom had to cough to clear his throat when his voice came out a bit strained at first. “Where else would we be, Marinette?”
Sabine watched as Marinette raised a brow at them, the small bit of hope she had made way and all Sabine could feel was that something bad was going to happen. “Well, I mean, you guys are always in the bakery. If not there then you’re out getting groceries together or planning something new for the shop, or…”
“W-Well, we’re here now Sweetheart. Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Sabine asked as calmly as she could, she didn’t want to let her daughter know about their worries, and the fact they just realized how awful of parents they had been. Sure they weren’t mean or anything of the like, but they had been absent and that could be just as cruel to a child.
“Actually yes!” It was said with Marinette’s usual brand of enthusiasm, maybe even more so, but it did nothing to lessen the grip of uneasiness that seemed to clench harder around Sabine’s stomach. It grew when Marinette pulled out a stack of papers and set them on the table in front of them with a smile directed at them that scrunched up her nose. Sabine hadn’t seen that smile in a long time.
“What is the stack of papers Mari-bear?” Tom asked as he finally found his voice.
“Those,” Marinette said as she gestured to the papers but didn’t actually look in their direction, she was maintaining eye contact with Sabine, “are emancipation papers that I would like you to sign.”
It was like a punch to the gut, and from the wheeze she heard from her husband, Sabine guessed she wasn’t the only one who felt like that. She shakily reached out to take a paper, to confirm that what her daughter said was true. She desperately hoped this was some sick joke, she prayed it was, but when that paper was in front of her face by her own hands’ doing, she knew it wasn’t some cruel joke. This was very much real. Neither parent made a sound, neither one could even think of words to respond to their daughter who was still smiling at them. The smile was not cruel, it was not smug, it was not even sad, it was just expectant.
“Now I know this probably came as a shock, but I honestly don’t know how it could be considering you two have been neglecting your parental responsibilities for much longer than is legal and appropriate. I understand that running your own business is time consuming but I’ve also come to understand that just because you had another responsibility did not mean you had any right to make me less of one. You are under legal obligation to fulfill your parental duties just as much as I, the child, am to fulfill mine.” Marinette spoke confidently, with no hesitation and Sabine felt the cracks in her heart deepen.
“I have given you both my respect as is expected of me according to the Article 371 French CC. I think it would be in your best interests to sign off on the forms, it is a way to come out of this with at least some respect still intact towards you two. Either way we would be going to court, what I mean is, if you are going to try and fight my decision, but I warn you, the evidence is stacked against you and I won’t hold back. You as parents were supposed to protect me, in safety, in health, and in morality. You may have given me a home as per your duties…” At this Marinette began to look around their house as though it truly were just a place she had to stay, and not as the home Sabine and Tom had created.
“So you did fulfill the Garde aspect of your responsibilities, but what about Surveillance? You took care of me, that is until you deemed I was “mature” enough to be left to my own devices. I…five years of age is not that age of majority, then and only then are your parental responsibilities fulfilled. You had to protect me, I thought you would protect me from anything, everything. But when bullies came along you did the bare minimum. That’s not even getting into the fact you left me unsupervised in the kitchens more times than I can count. I have scars that are proof enough of that. And don’t get me started on my mental health. Neither of you helped or protected me from that. Surveillance says you have to pay attention to your child and its needs…” Marinette didn’t explain further, and really she didn’t have to. Tom and Sabine were realizing they well and truly screwed up worse than they had both ever expected.
“And that’s not even to mention the Éducation part of everything. We have had many problems with my schooling, namely you two not taking my concerns seriously when it came to my asking for a transfer of classes or just a transfer plainly. Even when I begged and begged. There’s so so much more but I don’t want to get into everything, and I think you would prefer it if I didn’t as well. I have a job already, I make a steady income, I can cook for myself, I know how to budget, I can be happy on my own. I’ve basically been practicing my whole life so really this would just be making it official and it would help me get out of one of the several unhealthy environments I am in. So please, I ask the last thing you do for me is let me go, so I can be free and you can be done and not worry about parental duties anymore.”
Sabine started sobbing.
Footnotes:
*Europain: also known as Sirha Europain, is the leading exhibition for bakery and pastry professionals in France and abroad.
*Until the Act of April 4, 1970, the French CC used the terms ‘puissance paternelle,’ which states the power of decision the father had over his child or children (this power belonged only to the father.) In Art. 371-1 French CC the “autorite parentale (parental authority)” is now defined as “a collection of rights and duties aimed at the child’s interests.” This concept of parental authority encompasses several aspects, including care and protection, legal representation, a maintenance of personal relationships, determination of the child’s residence, the child’s education, a maintenance obligation towards the child, administration of property, and civil liability of the parents for damages caused by their child.
*“Autorite Parentale” encompasses several different rights and duties. The child, regardless of age, owes honor and respect to their parent(s) (Art. 371 French CC). The parental authority belongs to the father and mother until the child reaches the age of majority or is emancipated.
*Although the March 4, 2002 reform of the French CC no longer mentions the classical triptych that formed the contents of parental responsibilities (Garde, Surveillance, Education), French authors assert that these three fundamental parental tasks still exist and remain part of the parental responsibilities. Garde means that the parents should live with their child or, more generally, determine where the child should live. Surveillance, a term no longer used in the new legal provisions, still exists as a parental duty. It means to take care of, to protect, and to pay attention to the child and its needs. Education, the last duty, means that each parent shall contribute to the education and support of their child in proportion to their means, to those of the other parent and in proportion to the child’s needs.
Ivan was never the smartest guy, he knew that, but what he lacked in brain he thought he more than made up in heart. That’s what his Mama always said and surprisingly that is what his former friend Marinette would also say to him when he was having a bad day. Contrary to popular belief, he and Mylène were not the perfect couple, they had their fights, they annoyed one another on occasion, they even took jokes too far. More often than he would care to admit it was because he put his foot in his mouth and said something stupid, or didn’t think things through and they would end up in a misunderstanding, but his mothers’ and Marinette were always there to help him cool down and think things through whenever he needed them. Before this whole Lila thing he used to be able to just call up Marinette whenever he needed help or just whenever he wanted to talk with her.
She was his person and he liked to think he was hers, she would vent about her frustrations with Alya and the Girl Group, she would lament her failures and by failures Ivan meant little mistakes that Marinette was overthinking but that was okay, he knew she couldn’t help it. That was something he didn’t like that the girls and some of the guys in class teased her about, her tendency to spiral, they acted like it was just one of her quirks or it wasn’t a big deal. It was no secret that Marinette had anxiety, but he didn’t know if the others knew she had to take medication for it, but then even if they didn’t they still shouldn’t tease her for something she can’t control. Ivan had even said as much to said girl, he would never forget the smile she gave him as she told him he was a loyal friend.
Loyal. The memory made his stomach tie into a knot. No, he was not loyal, not at all, he was a coward, he was weak and he had tricked himself into believing he was strong. He didn’t know when it happened, but at some point Ivan got it in his head that if he just kept Mylène happy no matter what, everything would be okay. It didn’t matter if she didn’t want to go to a concert with him because she would rather they go and protest some issue she was passionate about (never you mind the fact that passion seemed to change every month or so), it didn’t matter that he couldn’t play some of his favorite songs around her because she thought they were too scary (she only listened to one verse), and it didn’t matter that she never wanted to hang out at his parent’s house (the décor was too intense she said). He couldn’t really remember when it started exactly but he knew it was after Lila returned from her trip or whatever.
Apparently Mylène had gone to the girl and expressed her concern to the Italian about how often they fight, which he thought was a small amount but apparently his girlfriend didn’t agree and it had begun to make her question their relationship. Ivan had been heartbroken and desperate and when Lila gave him the advice to just make sure Mylène was always happy he took to it like a duck to water. He liked Mylène a lot, she was the first girl he ever actually considered confessing too. He had crushes, but with Mylène it was just different. The crush didn’t fade away like the others, no, in fact it grew day by day to the point he just had to tell her how he felt. She was important to him and oh so special, and well, he’s a teenage boy and this is his first relationship, of course he didn’t want it to end. So he took Lila’s advice and it was like he could think of nothing else but Mylène.
Then time passed, his bottled emotions grew and he was finally able to take a step back when his older sister was home from university and pulled him aside for a talk. She noticed how different he had been and that’s when it hit him. He had always been proud to be him, sure he had insecurities, what teenager didn’t? But he loved rock and metal music, he loved horror films, his favorite color was black, and yeah he wore eyeliner. All that stuff made him happy and he believed it was what made him, well him. The point was, he had been raised to be proud of who you are, no matter if what you are going through is a phase or not (he fondly remembered his sister’s pastel phase, and so did his parents) because ultimately even that is you. It is just you trying to find what you are most comfortable in and in some cases broadening your tastes. It was that talk with his sister that made him realize he had not been himself in a long time, and that really upset him.
He decided he needed to take a step back from everything and really take a moment for himself so he could reflect and just think. He maybe, sort of, forgot that the trip to Gotham had been coming up but it honestly was a blessing in disguise because it gave him time away from Mylène. Which was sad that he thought of that as a plus, but he needed time away from her because it was his time with her that had been what had changed him and not for the better. So yes, he was more than content to use this education trip as his own personal getaway from everything, even if it was only when they were back at the hotel since Mylène decided that this trip had to be some romantic thing for them. Ivan had already tried to tell her that this trip was an educational one and they should treat it as such and not mess around, more so because they were specifically in one of the most crime ridden cities in the world.
Apparently what he said had been ‘totally mean’ and ‘inconsiderate’ so Mylène was giving him the silent treatment until he apologized. Another bonus, only if she remembered she was ignoring him, because sometimes she would be talking to the girls and come over and hang on his arm the way Lila did to Adrien and it took a lot out of him not to pry her fingers off him. He remained polite though, his mothers’ did not raise a rude son, they always made sure he was polite because they knew people would always judge their family for their looks and choices. His Mum said politeness was a weapon and he truly believed her. So he made sure to always be polite when he reminded Mylène about the silent treatment and why he didn’t believe he had to apologize and maybe they both needed to think about it. The boys were surprisingly on his side, especially Nino. What was a big shock to Ivan was that even Juleka, not one for talking Juleka, had even stood up for him and taken his side.
Distantly he hoped he hadn’t caused any problems for her and Rose. He really liked his bandmates but he was closer to Juleka he would admit. They both were people of few words and were more comfortable being in the background even if they were proud of who they were. He and Juleka could sit there in silence for hours without it going awkward because they both knew they were hanging out even if they didn’t say anything, they just appreciated each other’s presence. Nowadays though, the two hadn’t been able to just hang out with each other like they used to and Ivan hated to point the finger without proof but he blamed Lila. Everything changed after her lengthy return after her first day in the class. Ivan hadn’t noticed at first, he was admittedly not the most observant, but by the time he noticed it felt like there was nothing he could do.
No. The feeling was true but he knew he could have done something, he could have stood up for Marinette when he finally saw just how horrible the class was being, he could have broken up with Mylène when he first noticed her change or even sat done with her and her dad and talked over with both of them how the girl had been changing and not for the good, he could have spoken up for Nino and Juleka when he noticed they had become the Italian’s latest “projects.” Everyone in the class that had sided with Lila had been changing, and it had not been for the better, not at all. That had become all the more clear when he had heard Alya say they had to teach Marinette a lesson. It was the way she said it, there was so much anger behind it and she said it out in the lobby of Wayne Tower with a bravado that told him she didn’t expect them to get in trouble. The sad truth was they wouldn’t, not with the blatant favoritism Mme Bustier gave Lila.
That was all Ivan could think of throughout the rest of the tour, then the hostage situation had happened and everything happened all at once and much too fast and it had been utterly, devastatingly overwhelming. His heart had still been racing by the time they had made it back to the hotel and even then he didn’t remember getting back on the bus, he didn’t even remember getting out of the lobby. It had taken a much needed bath and a long time of blasting music from his headphones as he laid on his bed before he finally felt himself come back into focus enough to realize they had left Marinette behind. They had left a classmate behind in a fucking hostage situation, and it made his stomach drop so harshly he thought for a brief moment that gravity had ripped it out of him. It made him rush to the bathroom to puke up whatever he had eaten for lunch because for the life of him he could not remember.
They really had left Marinette back there to an uncertain fate and Ivan had never been more grateful that he was the odd boy out with his own room considering Nathaniel had fallen ill before the trip. So no one was around when he broke down, he cried, he sobbed, he muffled his screams into his mountain of pillows and even then it hadn’t felt like enough. The grief he felt, the anger, the guilt, it was all too much and the string that had been precariously holding him together before the start of the trip snapped. He needed…well he wasn’t entirely sure what he needed, he knew what he wanted and that was to make sure Marinette was okay. He wanted the old Mylène back. He wanted Kitty Section together again and rehearsing and just planning out new performances. He wanted to be able to write songs with Rose once more without fear of her taking them to Lila for her “expert opinion.” Ivan wanted to hang out with a friend group that didn’t just stand around and listen to one person’s stories or opinions without getting to share their own.
Yes, Ivan wanted a lot of things.
But first he had to get his nausea under control.
So with great reluctance he pushed himself out of bed and walked out of his room determined to go downstairs to the lobby in hopes the restaurant was still open, if it wasn’t then he would try and find a vending machine, and if that all failed he would ask an employee to go into the bar section of the hotel for him. He needed sparkling water or something with ginger in it, or even peppermint tea. Though he loathed the stuff, his Mama always told him those were the best for nausea. It was after their curfew but…well they didn’t exactly have a teacher or chaperone around to enforce said curfew and it’s not like Mme Bustier actually did anything if she caught you outside your room, or so Alya and Lila had said after they told everyone they had to go to the lobby after curfew the first night because Lila absolutely needed something, something dumb he was sure. The girls said the most they got was a gentle admonishment and made to promise they wouldn’t do it again.
Yeah Ivan could see why Caline Bustier was being investigated and honestly he wished it had happened sooner. If it had, maybe Marinette wouldn’t have had to plan and prepare the trip for them all and do her best to make sure they were safe. You know, like the teacher should have done. Oh Ivan knew it was Marinette who had won them the trip and not Lila who had claimed it so. He had been so grateful to the pig-tailed girl, he had never left Europe before and he had been so excited to have the opportunity to do so. But that had been a childish dream, or that’s how it felt anyhow, because as soon as they got the trip started Caline Bustier continued to fail as a teacher. Once upon a time, Ivan would have claimed the woman was his favorite teacher but after all the shit she let slide and he had been witness to that shattered. Caline Bustier fell from her self made high-horse throne and Ivan didn’t care.
He was glad that Mlle Mendeleiv would be her replacement for the trip, no matter what others said about the teacher, Ivan respected her no nonsense attitude when it came to rules and safety in her classroom and lab. He knew they would be in good hands, along with whatever chaperones would be coming. It was those thoughts that renewed a bit of hope in him that things would look up, a little voice in his head reassured him that things would get better. It suspiciously sounded like Marinette. Ivan huffed at that and willed the ache in his chest to go away as he reached the lobby and was about to head to the restaurant to see if it was open when he saw a familiar person sitting on one of the chairs in the lobby’s lounge.
“Alya?”
Said girl jumped in her seat before turning her head and wiping her face, Ivan pretended not to notice. “Ivan. Hey.”
Ivan looked at someone he had once considered a friend, not a particularly close one, but a friend nonetheless and decided they needed to talk and just be there for one another. Even if both weren’t exactly that close. So he sat on the seat next to her, his quest for a carbonated drink or ginger one put on hold. “I’m not going to ask how you’re doing because that would be pretty dumb, but it is the polite thing to do. So how are you feeling, Alya?”
“I…” At first it looked like she was going to lie or laugh him off but after a minute the girl’s face scrunched up tight before it seemed like all the fight had left her as she sagged into the seat. “Not the best I admit.”
“Me too.”
“I just…I didn’t think. When we left, my mind was on Lila and I didn’t think…”
“Didn’t think of Marinette.” He didn’t pose it as a question because he knew.
Alya looked like she was about to snap at him for even speaking the ‘forbidden name’, but she merely bit her lip and nodded. “We left but I didn’t…I knew we left Marinette there. And before you yell or lecture me or whatever, I know, I know that’s bad. The police had a grand ol’ time letting me know that. It’s just…I really didn’t think Ivan. I didn’t think she would…”
Ivan had to take a deep breath, but he did get what she was trying to say. “You didn’t think she would get hurt. Or taken off the trip. But Alya, before you yell at me, what did you think would happen? Honestly? Because from where I have been sitting and seeing, you haven’t cared what happened to Marinette the moment this trip started.”
He held his hand up when it looked like she was about to argue. “Alya. You asked me not to yell, I asked you the same, please. Look. You and Lila and Rose and…and Mylène have all been making this trip hell for her. Like it or not but Lila tried to leave her back in Paris. You may not believe that but that’s how it came across. You guys talked Bustier into leaving the hotel early our first official day to tour and you guys didn’t care that we left her here. You didn’t care when her friends argued or worried. You guys didn’t care. I should have spoken up. I know I should have when I noticed what you guys were doing. That’s my fault. But…but I don’t think I believe you when you say you didn’t think she would get hurt or be hurt.”
It was quiet. The silence grew and grew and it was wrapped around them both like hands pressed to their throats. Tears were gathered in both sets of eyes but they had yet to fall. “We left her behind in a hostage situation. She had a gun to her head Alya…we had no way of knowing if she was okay and we left and I hate myself for letting us leave.”
Both were crying. “Ivan…I…”
“You’re a good person Alya. But…you…you’re not acting like yourself anymore. You may jump into things without thinking, be a bit short tempered, but you always strived for information. For proof. For justice. This? This isn’t justice. When you…When you suggested teaching Marinette a lesson in the lobby…it sounded like you were suggesting…” Ivan never spoke this much but he wanted Alya to listen. He wanted her to see exactly what was wrong, or at the very least plant a seed of doubt of some kind.
Alya gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, she was unbelievably pale. “Ivan…please, please tell me you didn’t think I was suggesting…Mon Dieu…beating Marinette up!”
Ivan shrugged half-heartedly. “That’s what it sounded like but I know you’re not like that.”
“Ivan, I swear that’s not what I meant!” Alya denied. “I just…I was so mad at her because of what she did to Lila, but I didn’t mean hurting her. I swear it. I meant like…getting even. Playing pranks or something. Calling her parents! But never, never would I mean hurting her! I…look, we may not be friends any more but that doesn’t mean I want her to be hurt or to hurt her.”
“I want to believe that, and I think you want to believe that too. I think you need to take a step back from everything and just think about what’s happened. Not just here, back in Paris too.” He advised.
Alya licked her lips before looking him in the eyes sharply. “Like you did? Like with Mylène?”
“That’s!…Yeah…Yeah like me. Like that. It’s been an experience…Mylène has changed and so have I and I’m not convinced either change was for the better. So I took a step back. I had hoped she would understand and I’ve been trying to give her space…” He admitted.
A voice, a familiar heart-breaking voice, cut off whatever Alya was going to say next and it had Ivan stiffen in his seat. “Ivan? Why are you down here with Alya? Alone?”
Mylène.
“Hey Mylène.”
Ivan tiredly watched as his girlfriend looked between him and Alya with a frown on her face, her hands on her hips and one foot tapping the floor impatiently. It would have brought him some amusement-she looked like a cartoon character-but he knew if he laughed it wouldn’t be appreciated. “You didn’t answer my question. Lila says-”
“Mylène.” Alya cut in as she stared at her friend in confusion and something else that Ivan could not identify but he was grateful that Mylène’s attention was not on him. “He…He wasn’t feeling well. I just wanted to see if he was alright.”
It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the full truth but Ivan appreciated it all the same. “Yeah. I’m actually going to head to bed. Night girls.”
Without hearing their replies the boy got up and made his way to the elevators. He wasn’t one for many words, he didn’t really enjoy talking but this was one conversation he knew he would have to have many times over. For Marinette he would do it. For his friends he would do it. For himself…he would do it. So once he was on his level, Ivan squared his shoulders and passed his own room only to stop at another and knock. Once the door opened he stared down at a former friend, one he missed. He knew from experience that people found him intimidating given his size and his apparent ‘resting bitch face’ but Max just glared up at him with all his anger and determination. It made Ivan smile despite the situation.
Summary: Marc was determined to find his redheaded friend and finally have a talk, whether said friend wanted to or not. They couldn’t ignore each other forever.
Marc never liked confrontation. He hated it in fact. It always made his heart jump in his throat and made his skin tingle uncomfortably like there were tiny hairs all over his body that you always mistook for bugs. It was a sensation he was very much not a fan of, but one he felt too often for his liking. But even though he hated confrontation and the feelings it brought along he knew he couldn’t put this off, nor did he want to. Nathaniel was his friend, his business partner, his crush, as much as he didn’t want to talk to Nath about the Lila thing and the Marinette thing, Marc deserved answers and Nathaniel had been avoiding him. Sure in the beginning he had been avoiding the redhead as well but he felt that was to be expected, Nath knew him, knew what he was like and really the whole situation was very overwhelming. One of his closest friends was turned into an akuma, the deadliest and smartest akumas to date, and she went missing. There was no trace of her. Then there was the fact that apparently her class had a big hand in her akumatization.
Now it was just speculation but all be damned if there wasn’t some circumstantial evidence that helped “prove” that theory. It was a theory that was not hard to believe, everyone in the school could see the change in Mlle Bustier’s class, and they could see it hadn’t been a good change. But it didn’t matter how many times Marc asked Nathaniel if everything was okay in his class, it didn’t matter how many times Marc asked Aurore to help him talk to Mme Mendeleiev about what was maybe going on in Mlle Bustier’s class, nothing was being done, and nothing he or his friends did seemed to make a dent in the infamous ‘Akuma Class’s’ walls. The class had a reputation of being close, but where once it was admired and seen as a good thing, it grew to be something intimidating and off putting. It seemed like no matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, there was nothing you could do to get close to anyone in the class. There was no way to break through or be invited past the walls.
Marc had been lucky, or it had seemed that way for a while. Marinette was always the anomaly in the ‘Akuma Class’, she would talk to kids outside her class, she would try and make other friends, and other kids tried to be friends with her too. Marinette just had this gravitational pull to her, she was a star and many wanted to be a part of her constellation, but her classmates always seemed to keep her just out of everyone else’s reach. When Marinette had started talking to him it was nothing short of feeling like he was speaking to a goddess and he wished he was joking, because that is exactly how he felt when she approached him. Of course there was his whole akumatization but that had been a stupid misunderstanding and he still felt bad for blaming her and even thinking she was malicious enough to want to embarrass him on purpose, even if it was for a brief moment. It was what happened after that made him feel like he had received a blessing, he met Nathaniel, someone he had always admired, whether it was his art or simply just his looks.
Marc thought Nathaniel’s art was incredible and that the boy himself was cute, then Marinette happened and he soon found himself in a partnership with the artist and next thing he knew they were making a comic series together. A rather successful one at that. Marc couldn’t have been happier and really it was all thanks to Marinette, he had wanted to find some way to thank her ever since, but everything he thought up always seemed subpar. And yet he still kept thinking of ways to thank her but in the end he would never get a chance to, because Marinette was gone. No one knew where she was. She was still an akuma and it was more than likely her classmates that drove her to being possessed by said akuma. The boy huffed when he realized his thoughts had just done a complete circle yet again. That had been happening more and more recently.
He would think about how Nathaniel was really not being subtle about avoiding him, then his thoughts would predictably turn towards Marinette and how kind and amazing she was. Then of course his thoughts would go to her disappearance and of course the fact that not only did she disappear, but she disappeared as an akuma. There had been no Miraculous Ladybug to cure and repair everything that had gone wrong, and boy had things gone wrong. It was like Paris as a whole had been the one to be akumatized rather than Marinette, everyone acted differently or just completely out of their minds. Marc couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of the overzealous-and that was putting it mildly-followers that The Protector had somehow garnered after her disappearance. He had never run into any of them thank goodness, but all the stories he had heard and read about from eyes-witnesses had him glad he was never one to go out much anyways. But it was those overzealous sycophants and the rowdy self-righteous kids in school that had him worried and wanting to find and speak to Nathaniel.
He had checked all of Nathaniel’s old haunts, he had been very surprised that the redhead had not been in the art room but then he remembered the club’s attitude towards the ‘Akuma Class’ and he felt foolish for even checking there in the first place. So he basically just went on a blind hunt for Nathaniel and hoped he would be able to find the boy before lunch was over. Thankfully he knew Nathaniel always had lunch at school since his parents weren’t able to pick him up to take home for lunch and back to school after. So he continued looking for his friend, at least, he hoped they were still friends and if they weren’t then hopefully they could work towards being friends once more. Though he knew if he did manage to find Nathaniel, the talk they had to have wouldn’t be pleasant, he just hoped that both of them could manage not to blow anything out of proportion.
Both of them were driven by their emotions, and they both tended to jump to conclusions, point and case being their individual akumatizations. Marc grumbled as he shut the locker room door as there was no redhead in sight. He hated having to be the rational one. He was just fine being the hot mess he was, he was content to be that and proudly made sure everyone knew it. Though he liked sharing the role with Marinette, the two of them bonded over the fact that they couldn’t go through one day without something happening because they were always in a tizzy. It was great to find someone he shared that with, they had even joked about making a club, but overall it was just great to have a friend that understood when he spiraled over something so little as misplacing his journal. Marinette made him feel seen, she helped him come out of his shell, she was the reason he was able to make friends. She would always deny it and say that was all him but he knew if she had never talked to him he probably would have been content to just stay in the shadows away from everyone.
It was when he was getting frustrated and decided to just eat his lunch in Mme Mendeleiev’s homeroom class (he wouldn’t dare try and eat in her lab even if it was closer to him after the lecture she gave to one of his classmates that decided it was a good time to snack while in the lab) and try again tomorrow that he saw a familiar head of red hair sitting at a desk at the back. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”
“Marc? What…what are you doing here?” Nathaniel asked, it was clear he had not been expecting anyone to walk in. To be fair, not many people had permission to eat their lunch in Mme Mendeleiev’s homeroom and not many of them ran into each other.
“I did just say, ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding,’ I think that is rather clear.”
“You were looking for me?” Nath asked cautiously and Marc had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes even if he was getting frustrated. He found himself getting frustrated easier and faster nowadays. Stupid hormones.
“Well yeah. You’ve certainly haven’t made it easy. You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I haven’t-”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Well what do you want me to say Marc?”
“I-” Marc started but he realized it was a bit more heated than he wanted it to be, with a sigh it was like all his frustration and determination left him. “I didn’t come here to fight Nath.”
“I’m…Look. I’m sorry Marc. It’s just, that’s all anyone seems to want to do nowadays.” Nathaniel did look sorry so Marc didn’t hold it against him, and to be fair he himself came in a little hot headed so he just nodded his head as he walked closer. He didn’t sit at the desk with Nathaniel but since the boy was sitting on the edge anyway he decided to sit in the desk across from him. “I guess that’s why I’m…hiding. Everyone just wants to fight, or, or yell at me- at us, about how awful we are and how we let her down!”
“Well…” Marc began as he picked off lint from his fingerless gloves, it was a nervous habit. Thankfully he hadn’t accidentally picked a stray string and unraveled the gloves but he knew it was only a matter of when. “I didn’t track you down to yell at you.”
“Are-Aren’t you mad at me?”
“I was. I’m not going to lie. But I think you’re mad at yourself enough for the both of us.” Marc said as he gestured to Nath’s bandaged hands. He was one of the few people that knew how self-destructive Nath could be when upset, especially when he was upset at himself. He would force himself to work on a wood carving project, something he rarely did, but he wouldn’t put on the protective gloves, so if he got nicked by a tool he would feel it. Marc tried his best to get Nath to stop, and he thought he had succeeded. Looks like he in all actuality failed. “I wish you wouldn’t do that..”
“I know.” Nath admitted softly.
“Have you been…working on a project recently?” Marc asked softly, still looking at Nathaniel’s bandaged hands. There were so many band aids he could barely see the boy’s pale skin.
Nathaniel shook his head, it was then that Marc noticed the red hair that was usually well kept was greasy and a mess. His heart clenched at the knowledge that his friend was neglecting his self-care. “No…I haven’t had the energy to really work on anything. I’ve thought about it…but no. No new projects, er, carving-wise.”
It was Marc’s turn to nod. There was a moment of silence and where once it would have been comfortable like all the silence shared between them was before, now it was long, it was uncomfortable and it was nerve wracking. “Nath? What happened?”
“I don’t even know what to say Marc. Or well, I do, I just don’t know where to start.”
“Start wherever you’re most comfortable.”
“I…I didn’t really pay attention to Lila. I know that doesn’t give me any points. I know it doesn’t make me better than my classmates, but I genuinely didn’t really pay attention to her.” Nathaniel started with a far away look in his eyes. “Sure she had amazing stories and such but they just never hooked me. Like, I don’t know how to explain it, there were stories for everyone to hear, to relate to, but there was always a constant. Her.”
“Everything was about her.” Marc muttered, he remembered hearing her regale her posy with a tale of herself meeting some big name author and he had felt like her eyes had been on him but he had just kept walking to his table with his friends.
“Yeah. Exactly. And well, we were so busy with our comic, I just never really paid attention to what was going on in class. You know how I can get.” Nath said as he ran a hand through his hair.
Marc nodded, he did know how Nathaniel could get because he was the same way. When they were in the zone everything else was like a haze, if they didn’t set alarms in their phones they would definitely forget to eat or take breaks. The alarms had been Marinette’s doing. “We both get like that when it comes to the comic.”
“So when I get like that, I usually have Alix tell me what’s going on in class and with our friends so I’m in the loop.” Nath explained as he looked down at his hands as he clenched and unclenched them. “But…I should have known better. Alix, I love Alix, but Alix is stubborn and rash, and….but she’s loyal. So when she told me Marinette didn’t like Lila and she explained that Marinette was being a bully…I was confused because Marinette has never been like that but at the same time I wasn’t her friend till this year…”
“So you-”
“So I listened to Alix, but it wasn’t just Alix. Everyone was talking about it! How Marinette had changed and how she was being mean to Lila! I…I listened to them. I didn’t partake in anything but I knew they were pulling pranks on her.” Nathaniel’s words were choked out on a sob.
“I didn’t want to get involved. I-I hate situations like that, and I didn’t want to get involved so I didn’t,” Nathaniel cried. “And I have never regretted anything more. I should have looked into things more, I shouldn’t have just taken things at face value, I should have done something!”
At this Marc himself was crying too so he stood up and pushed Nath more into the desk so he could sit beside him and hug his friend. He didn’t know how long they sat there like that, just crying for anyone to hear, but it felt good. It felt good to hug his friend again and to just cry with someone he trusted. Yes Nathaniel made a mistake, but at least the boy realized that himself and felt ashamed, there was no need for Marc to punish his friend more. He knew people wouldn’t understand him forgiving Nathaniel but he didn’t care, people are allowed to make mistakes, especially children. This was a mistake, a big mistake, but it wasn’t made intentionally and everyone was already suffering because of it. Marc didn’t see the point of continuing to place blame on Nathaniel, what happened was terrible and one of their friends was missing because of it, but there was no way to heal and move forward if he decided to continue to be mad and hateful.
“You might think it’s too late…” Marc began softly, “but the fact that you recognize what you did was a problem and feel regretful, shows how sorry you are. Nath, I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t mad at you, because I was. But you can’t keep punishing yourself for the past.”
“How can you forgive me?” Nath asked around his choked out sobs.
“Because you’re my friend.” Marc said firmly as he hugged Nathaniel tighter. “And…and because it’s what Marinette would do.”
The room was quiet as Marc had memory after memory of Marinette flooded his brain, he imagined the same could be said for Nathaniel who was still crying but had managed to calm down enough to stop his choked out sobs. Now all that could be heard from him was sniffling. They just sat there hugging each other, remembering their friend and hoping to muffle and forget everything going on outside for just a moment. One moment was all they needed, away from the chaos and the crushing weight of judgments and expectations, just one moment to be just them. A moment where no one would yell or laugh at their misery, or have people expect them to jump on the bandwagon and treat the class like social pariahs. In that empty classroom they could be just Marc and Nathaniel, two boys who desperately missed their friend.
“She was always too forgiving.” Nathaniel mumbled with a sad chuckle. “Even when someone didn’t deserve it…she was always ready to forgive.”
“She really was. Marinette,” Marc tried to ignore the pain in his chest at her name, “Marinette was amazing, and kind, and selfless, and so so much more.”
“She was…” Nathaniel sighed as he gently pulled away from Marc and ran a hand through his hair. “And-and it hurts that people, well a majority, only see her as The Protector. That’s not Marinette, that will never be her. Marinette was many things, and I want to remember her as those rather than…than the akuma she left us as.”
“Sometimes…Sometimes people only want to see the akuma. They only want to see the bad in people or they only see what they want to see.” Marc supplied with a tilt of his head and shrug of his shoulders. It was depressing but it was the truth.
“She’snot her akuma! We’re not our akumas!” Nathaniel said hotly.
Marc flinched even though he knew Nath wasn’t yelling at him, but he nodded all the same. “You know…people were still wary around me after the whole…Reverser incident. It was like they expected me to turn into…him at any moment. Some of my classmates even stopped talking to me altogether.”
“Marc…That’s awful.”
“It is. But it stopped eventually.”
“How? W-Why?”
Marc gave Nathaniel a bright smile. “You happened. You suggested making my akuma a hero in the comic. Like how you turned Evillustrator into Mighty-Illustrator. And we paired up to make the comic which definitely helped, but really, it was the comic itself that helped me. People saw my akuma not as Reverser, they saw the hero you made it to be, they saw it as Contrary Wise.”
“You did that too, you know? You wrote your akuma as a hero fantastically. You write fantastically Marc. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“My point is,” Marc laughed and bumped Nath with his shoulder to try and hide his blush, “you helped everyone separate me from Reverser.”
Marc watched as Nath smiled and rubbed the back of his neck before the boy stopped and sat up suddenly, no longer slouching. He turned to Marc with wide, excited eyes. “That’s what we need to do!”
“What?”
“We! I’ve been wanting to make something for her anyways but I didn’t think I could because I didn’t know if you still wanted to work with me. But you’re here now! It can happen! We can make it!” Nathaniel babbled as he gestured wildly with his hands.
“Make what, Nath? I just want you to make sense!”
“We make another comic!” Nathaniel announced as he fumbled with his backpack before he yanked out his ‘Ideas’ journal. “Only this time it won’t feature Ladybug. Ladybug is gone. Marinette…well Mari as Ladybug promised to always protect us. She never realized she was a hero all the time. To all of us. Mask or no mask.”
Marc started getting excited and a bit sad when he realized what Nath wanted. “A comic dedicated to her but her as Marinette. The everyday hero. Our everyday hero. No mask.”
“We show everyone she’s not The Protector. Not just Ladybug. She’s human. Like all of us, we show Paris that we can be heroes too. Not…not like we, we.”
“I know what you mean, Nath. We show them that Paris…that we, the people, can be heroes like Marinette.” Marc beamed with pride at his friend.
Nathaniel nodded and gave a more bittersweet smile. “Like Marinette.”
You lay curled up on your cot, your eyes puffy and red from the countless hours of crying you have been doing over the past three days. Every time you think you have cried yourself out, that you couldn’t possibly have the energy or tears left to shed, you are hit by another wave of sobs. You know you should pull it together, to be as strong as all those around you, but you can’t. Working in the control room and monitoring things through a computer screen had always let you remain somewhat distanced from the loss and tragedies that could occur during missions. But this is different. You had never been this personally connected to one of the fighters before.
A light knock on your door stirs you from your grief. You mumble a soft, “Come in.” and see Phoenix slowly open the door.
“Hey, I thought you might want some company.” You nod as a single tear rolls down your cheek and she comes over to pull you into a hug. “It’s okay. There’s still a chance he could be okay.”
You sob into her chest, “It’s been three days. You guys ejected from your plane in the middle of a desert with no food, no water, no real kind of protective gear and no one has found any signs of Bob since. Even if he survived the crash, he almost definitely wouldn’t have made it this long on his own.” She just holds tighter to you, both of you knowing you are right and anything she says would just be wishful thinking.
Finally, you compose yourself somewhat and say, “I’m sorry. I know I should be stronger than this. I mean, we had only been going out for a few months. Plus, you guys have known him so much longer and you’re holding it together. I mean, he was your WSO and yet here you are comforting me! How pathetic can I be!”
Phoenix thinks for a moment, choosing her words wisely. “I haven’t been as strong as I am trying to seem. You’re right, Bob was my WSO and I was flying when we were forced to bail out. That’s not an easy thing to come to terms with but I’m trying.” She ran her hand soothingly across your back. “However, I think we both know that there was more to your and Bob’s relationship than you’re admitting.”
“Yeah…. Yeah, there was. But I never admitted it to him either…… Do-do you think he knew that I loved him before he….?” You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to actually say the word out loud, but Phoenix understands.
“I think he did. And I think he felt the same way about you. You were all he ever talked about. I had to even tell him to shut up a few times when he would go on and on and on about you.”
You let out a strangled laugh. “My roommate told me the same thing. That she didn’t ever want to hear the name ‘Bob’ ever again.” You stare down at your hands as they fidget with the sheets. “I guess she got her wish.”
Phoenix opens her mouth to say something, but before she has the chance, Rooster suddenly bursts into your room without even knocking. You and Phoenix both look at him in surprise, not understanding his intrusion or the wide grin spread across his face. That is until he breathlessly says, “They found him…. And he’s okay… Bob’s okay!”
Phoenix decides to stay behind to give you time alone with Bob, so Rooster leads you quickly down the hall. He fills you in with what he knows: a final rescue team had gone out looking for him and someone had managed to spot his parachute in a deep gorge they had missed before. They found Bob, dehydrated, severely sunburned, and banged up, but overall, he was going to make a full recovery.
As you approach the door to his room, Rooster gives your shoulder a tight squeeze then walks off so you can go in by yourself. Taking a deep breath, you open the door. Bob is laying on a bed, propped up with a few pillows. An IV is connected to his arm to replenish his fluids. All of his visible skin is painfully bright red and peeling from countless hours in the scorching sun. But even though his lips are chapped and cracked, he gives you a soft smile as you hesitantly approach. “Hi.”
His voice is so dry and scratchy it is almost impossible to make out what he said, but you smile back as tears once again spring to your eyes. “Hi. I thought….. I thought I had lost you.”
“Thought so too once or twice. But I had a reason to keep going.” Weakly, he reaches into his flight suit and pulls out a worn strip of paper. Handing it over to you, you instantly recognize it. For your third date, Bob had taken you to a carnival and the two of you had spent way too much money goofing off in the photo booth. While you had taken most of the photos home, you had noticed Bob slip one strip of them into his pocket. That is what you now hold in your hands.
The tears you have been holding back begin streaming down your face. You take his hand gently and whisper, “I love you, Bob. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but I-I was afraid it was too soon. And then when I thought you were gone, and I’d never get the chance to tell you-” Your voice begins quivering too much to continue.
But then Bob reaches out and takes your hand in his as he rasps, “I love you too. I didn’t want to come on too strong but I’ve wanted to say it ever since that night.” He gestures to the pictures still in your hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner.”
Without thinking, you press your lips against his. The cracked, dry feeling immediately reminds you of his condition and you try to pull away, but he places his hand on the back of your neck, holding you in place. So, you carefully lean in, deepening the kiss as you run your fingers through his hair, ignoring the sand and sweat matted there.
You are interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing behind you. The heat rising in your face, you turn around to see a doctor with an amused look on her face standing there. She raises an eyebrow and says, “Sorry to interrupt, but Lieutenant Floyd needs his rest. So, if you don’t mind-”
“Can she please stay?” Bob asks.
The doctor sighs. “Are you actually going to try to get some sleep if she’s here?”
“Yes, ma’am. In fact, I’ll sleep better with her by my side.” Bob smiles softly at you and you bite your lip to suppress your own grin.
“Fine. But if I come back to check on you and I see anything I don’t approve of, she’ll have to leave.”
“Absolutely. Thank you, ma’am.”
The doctor shakes her head with a small smile and leaves. You turn back to Bob. “Are you sure? I can come back later. She’s right. You do need to rest and recover.”
“I can do both with you here….. If you want to stay.”
You squeeze his hand. “Of course, I do.”
Carefully, Bob slides over, making room next to him. You climb onto the bed, curling up against his side with your head resting on his shoulder. You take his glasses off his face and place them on the table next to you before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you in closer. And wrapped in each other’s arms, you both soon drift off to sleep comforted by the thought you are with the person you love once again.
Rooster eases himself out of bed as quietly as possible. It is still pitch-black outside, so he does his best to navigate through the dimly lit room without running into anything. Once he makes it to the bathroom door, he slips inside and flips on the light.
He starts stripping down and is just about to step into the shower when his phone buzzes. Glancing at it, he curses under his breath. Another schedule change means there’s no time for a shower before he has to leave. So, he quickly pulls on his uniform and runs his comb through his sleep-tousled hair.
As he stares into the mirror, the man gazing back at him seems so much calmer and more composed than he feels inside. It is an ability he has mastered after years of practice. Because he knows he can’t walk out of this room with the terror and anxiety he is feeling about this mission etched on his face. He would never do that to you.
As he opens the door, he catches sight of the bed as it is bathed in the glow from the bathroom light. You are laying on your stomach, hair splayed across your pillow and over part of your face. One arm is stretched out onto his side of the bed, fingers clutching at the sheets as even in sleep you are searching for him.
Walking over to your side of the bed, he leans over and places a gentle kiss on your temple causing you to stir softly. Without opening your eyes, you mumble, “Mmm. What time is it?”
Rooster brushes the hair off your face as he whispers, “It’s only 4:30. Go back to sleep, baby.”
You nod slightly and roll onto your back. The movement causes your thin nightshirt to ride up, revealing the slight bump of your stomach. At only three months along, most people would probably not notice the slight swell in your midsection, but to Rooster, who knows your body inside and out, it stands out immediately. He knows that it is his child in there, a child that if things went wrong on the mission, he would never get to meet.
Rooster eases himself out of bed as quietly as possible. It is still pitch-black outside, so he does his best to navigate through the dimly lit room without running into anything. Once he makes it to the bathroom door, he slips inside and flips on the light.
He starts stripping down and is just about to step into the shower when his phone buzzes. Glancing at it, he curses under his breath. Another schedule change means there’s no time for a shower before he has to leave. So, he quickly pulls on his uniform and runs his comb through his sleep-tousled hair.
As he stares into the mirror, the man gazing back at him seems so much calmer and more composed than he feels inside. It is an ability he has mastered after years of practice. Because he knows he can’t walk out of this room with the terror and anxiety he is feeling about this mission etched on his face. He would never do that to you.
As he opens the door, he catches sight of the bed as it is bathed in the glow from the bathroom light. You are laying on your stomach, hair splayed across your pillow and over part of your face. One arm is stretched out onto his side of the bed, fingers clutching at the sheets as even in sleep you are searching for him.
Walking over to your side of the bed, he leans over and places a gentle kiss on your temple causing you to stir softly. Without opening your eyes, you mumble, “Mmm. What time is it?”
Rooster brushes the hair off your face as he whispers, “It’s only 4:30. Go back to sleep, baby.”
You nod slightly and roll onto your back. The movement causes your thin nightshirt to ride up, revealing the slight bump of your stomach. At only three months along, most people would probably not notice the slight swell in your midsection, but to Rooster, who knows your body inside and out, it stands out immediately. He knows that it is his child in there, a child that if things went wrong on the mission, he would never get to meet.
He had always been unsure about having kids. Knowing the dangers associated with his job, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to risk leaving a kid without a father like he was. Yet, the moment you had called and told him, all the doubts, all the fears instantly melted away and he was left wondering how he could have ever imagined his life without a child of his own. One that he created with you.
The two of you had been high school sweethearts, married right after graduation, and you had been with him through every major moment in his life and there was no one else he could picture having by his side for this one. However, this mission he was leaving for is more dangerous than anything he had ever flown before. And there was a good chance he wouldn’t be making it back.
Rooster thinks about his confrontation with Maverick just after Phoenix and Bob’s accident. He had thrown it in the older man’s face that Maverick didn’t have a wife or child to mourn him if something happened to him. And as much as he was referring to his dad’s death at that moment, in his head, he also meant it as what would happen to you and the baby if he didn’t come back from this mission. At least he still has photos and vague, fuzzy memories of time with his dad. But if Rooster was killed tomorrow, his child wouldn’t even have that.
That realization brings Rooster to his knees beside the bed. The idea that his child would never get to hear his voice, see his smile, feel his love….. Somehow this possibility had never crossed his mind until now. Slowly, he climbs onto the bed and rests one hand on your stomach, spreading his large fingers across your bare skin. He rests it there for a minute, silently trying to express all the things he wanted his child to know, especially how much he loved him or her.
Bending down, he lightly brushes his lips across the tender skin of your stomach, causing you to giggle softly. Lazily, you push at his head as you playfully whine, “Bradley, stop! Your mustache is tickling me and I’m trying to sleep.”
“Sorry about that. Is this better?” He slides up your body until he is able to press his lips against yours.
You hum softly against his mouth. “Yes, much better.”
He deepens the kiss, knowing he doesn’t have time but also knowing that just like his child, he needs you to know how much he loves you.
After a moment, you grab his arm and try to drag him further into the bed, but he reluctantly resists as he pries himself from your grasp and sits up. Seeing how his loving expression has slipped into something more somber, you sit up, suddenly awake. “What’s wrong?”
Rooster sighed. “Phoenix just texted me. They moved up our check-in time. She’s on her way right now to pick me up.”
The sorrow on your face shatters Rooster’s heart. “But… we were supposed to have the whole morning! I got those cinnamon rolls you like from the bakery for your farewell breakfast!”
He cups your face as you lean into his touch. “I know. I’m sorry, baby. But I have to go. Phoenix will be here any minute to pick me up.”
He runs his other hand gently across your stomach and you sigh. “You didn’t tell them, did you? Any of them, not even Phoenix.”
Rooster shakes his head. “If I did, they’d have found some excuse to not let me go.”
“And that’s such a bad thing?” you ask with a doleful scoff.
“Baby, you know I have to do this. It’s my job and I’m one of the only people who can do it.”
You tilt your head so it leans further into his caress. “I know. That’s why I’m not asking you not to go. I’m just asking you to come back.” You place one hand softly on your stomach. “I can’t do this alone. We need you.”
Rooster chuckles. “No, you don’t. Not really. You’re going to be an amazing mother, with or without me.”
“Oh, I know I’m going to be amazing. Don’t worry about that,” you tease before becoming more serious once again. “But don’t make me prove I can do this alone. That wasn’t a challenge. I need us to do this together.”
“I’m going to try my absolute best……. but I want you to keep this.” Rooster slips off his wedding ring and holds it out to you.
You stare at it in horror, tears springing to your eyes. “No, Bradley, no. I know what that means and I’m not taking that.”
He moves his hand closer to you, urging you to take it. “If something goes wrong, they may not be able to get it back to you and I want you to have it. Please.”
You began to shake your head forcefully. “Don’t ask me to keep that. You’ve never asked me to keep it before. You’re going to come home, and you’ll be wearing it when you do.”
“Baby, it was my dad’s, and if something goes wrong….. I want our kid to have it. I want you to be able to give it to them one day.”
Your lip begins to tremble as you stare at the ring. Then slowly, you reach out and take it from him. “Don’t you dare make me do that, Bradley Bradshaw. Don’t you dare…. This is going back on your finger in a few days, then it’s never coming off again. Do you hear me?”
He nods before gathering you into his arms. You cling tightly to him and bury your face into his chest as he leans over and rests his head on top of yours. The two of you remain silently wrapped in each other’s embrace, both trying not to think about the meaning behind what just happened.
Suddenly, Rooster’s phone buzzes. Glancing at it, he sighs. “Phoenix is here. I have to go.”
He places a long, lingering kiss on the top of your head before carefully extracting himself from your grasp. As he stands, he runs his hand softly over your stomach one final time. Then he walks over to the bedroom door. But just as his hand wraps around the door handle, he hears you whisper from the bed. “I could call Maverick you know. The second I tell him the truth, about the baby, he would ground you.”
Rooster sighs as he rests his head on the doorframe. “I know. But I also know you love me too much to do that. You understand what this mission means to me.”
“Apparently more than we mean to you.”
Rooster whirled around, his face shifting quickly between a dozen different emotions. “You know that isn’t true!”
You nod softly with your head down, but Rooster can still see the tears beginning to stream down your face. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I just….”
Another buzz of Rooster’s phone cuts you off. He quickly mutes it. “Sorry. Go on.”
But you shake your head as you purse your lips. “No, you need to go. You can’t keep them waiting.”
“Baby…”
He takes a step closer to you, but you hold up your hands, halting him. “Go, Rooster. You have a job to do, so do it and come home. Come home to us.”
Rooster. If you have resorted to calling him that, then there is nothing left to say. He nods and turns back to the door. As he opens it, he pauses for just a moment. Without turning around, he says, “I love you.”
There is a three-second pause that seems to stretch on for an eternity before you whisper, “I love you, too.”
And with that, Rooster walks out the door. As soon as it is closed, he hears you collapse onto the bed sobbing. But he can’t look back. If he does, he knows he will never leave. So instead, he places one foot in front of the other as he heads off into the unknown, hoping that one day soon, he will be walking back down into that room and into your arms once more.
Notes: Thank you to @loverhymeswith for beta reading for me! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who supported Part 1! The response has been amazing and it really means so incredibly much to me!
Rooster… It had been a faint sound, feeble and hoarse, but he had heard you whisper his name across the coms. You were alive. For now at least. And Rooster was determined to do everything in his power to keep it that way even if that meant risking his own life.
He had seen the look of pain that flashed across your face as the missile that was aimed at his plane suddenly slammed into yours instead, and he had managed to catch a glimpse of your limp body as it hung beneath your parachute after you ejected. As much as he had screamed into the coms for you to turn on your beacon, as much as he kept insisting to the others that you were alive, part of him didn’t believe it. So, the second he saw your location beacon flicker to life on his radar, his heart leaped in his chest.
Now, as he ignored everyone’s incessant calls for him to return to the aircraft carrier, he was circling the area around your beacon. It seemed luck was on his side because, while he was unable to spot where you landed amongst the trees, he was able to find an old service road that had been recently cleared of snow. It wasn’t his best landing, and he knew takeoff would be tricky on the uneven surface, but at least it was something he could work with.
His engine didn’t even have time to sputter to a stop before he was out of the cockpit and jumping to the ground. The signal from your beacon had placed you not too far from here, but as Rooster sprinted towards the location, he saw no sign of you. A million thoughts spiraled through his head. Maybe you had been captured. Maybe the beacon had fallen off your suit and malfunctioned, turning on by itself. Maybe he wasn’t going to reach you in time, wasn’t going to have the chance to tell you….
But just then, he spotted something to his right. You were laying on your side with your back towards him, crumpled at the base of a tree with your parachute tangled in the limbs high above you. As he rushed to your side, he noticed your entire body was shivering but whether it was from the cold, the pain, or some sort of shock, Rooster couldn’t tell. Normally this fact would have worried him, but at the moment, he was just relieved for a sign that you were alive. As carefully as he could, he eased you onto your back, before gasping in alarm.
Finn rushed down the stairs without a care in the world, his feet faster than his brain. From where he was stood at the top of the stairs, Fao tried to call out, but he couldn’t. It was as if his voice didn’t work.
His strangled cry for his brother to be careful was too late, as he tripped and fell. He landed in a broken heap at the bottom, his little body looking so lifeless, so wrong. And then there was the blood. So much blood, too much blood. For a moment Fao couldn’t move, and then suddenly he was crouched beside his brother.
He wasn’t breathing, his chest not moving at all. No pulse when Fao checked either. Just… nothing.
“Finn? Finn, don’t do this to me. Please, Finn.” He begged, as he struggled to start compressions. But someone pulled him away, dragged him off and told him it was a lost cause. He fought against them, screaming and crying out.
“Finn!” He screamed, the dream jolting into reality.
He’d screamed himself awake every night that week, but Finn had refused to leave his bed. He gently squeezed Fao’s hand, wrapping his other arm across his chest.
“It’s just a dream.”
Fao whimpered, curling into his brother. “Finn.”
“I’m right here. You’re okay.” He paused. “I’mokay.”
He exhaled shakily. “You’re ‘kay.”
Finn slowly moved their hands to his chest. “See? I’m okay. It’s just a dream.”
“You were…”
It wasn’t hard to guess what he’d been dreaming about. It plagued Finn’s nights more often than not. “I was. I’m fine now.”
Fao almost expected his hands to be covered in blood as Finn held them against his chest. But they weren’t, and he could feel the rise and fall of Finn’s chest as well as the rumble of his voice as he spoke. “‘M sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“I am, though.” Fao mumbled, burying his face against his brother. “Love you.”
“You saved my life. No reason to be sorry.” Finn told him. “You know I love you too.”
“It’s always…” Fao’s voice cracked, and he paused for a moment. “You’re always gone.”
“I’m not. I’m here. I’m fine.” He promised. “We’re okay.”
“Can’t lose you.”
“You won’t. We’re brothers.” He pushed himself up to look at Fao, barely visible in the darkness. “Nothing will take that away from us.”
a.k.a. “The One Where V(idel) Finally Talks to Misty.” | written by @themaximumpanic
• V and Jackie are back in the merc game, and got a few more gigs under their belt. A simple hit job—that’s all it should’ve been. But when V trips up and Jackie opts to take a hit meant for her, she’s forced to confront the consequences of the choices they made together. And that means looking someone dear to her right in the eyes.
Life Path: Medic | Genre: Drama, Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: < 3700
•••
Boot met the front gate in a hard kick, and summoned a loud iron rattle that startled the ripperdoc inside. Vic pulled away from the boxing match streaming on his monitor to see what appeared to be a bruised and battered V, heaving a half-conscious Jackie in on her back with what mountainous strength she could summon.
“Vic?Vic, I need you! Open up!”
“Jesus, V!” Vic exclaimed, fingers already itching as he rushed to open the door and help her carry him down the steps. Already he knew there was work to be done. “What-“
“Motherfucker took a mantis blade to the chest and he’s been bleeding out the whole way here. I need parts, Vic. Now.”
Glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose when the two lugged Jackie up onto the chair. V was pushing herself; that much was obvious by the sweat which soaked her face, and the dark circles under her eyes. But she was still ready to go.
Ocean eyes met his. “…Vic?”
“Right! Right… Sorry.” Two fingers pushed his glasses back up, and he refocused. Anesthetic gun in hand, needles shot into Jackie’s arm to dull the pain. Now they could get to work. “Assess the injuries. I have to know what implants we need.”
“Lacerations to the sternum, definitely cut down to the bone.” V instinctively reached for the utensil tray beside the chair, taking a rag in one hand and a scalpel in the other. “I need to get a better look. Something’s digging into his lung tissue.”
“Careful with that thing, alright?” Vic’s words hardly carried concern on his way to the storage room, despite the sharp blade in her possession poised over the patient’s chest. They both knew she’d done this before—on dozens of people before. She couldn’t screw it up even if she tried.
V adjusted the chair to the right height, lowering Jackie so she could stand over the injury sight directly. Her face hovered not that far from his, shallow breath heating the air between them. She felt it on her forehead, beneath her skin. Being close to him was like breathing in oxygen, so easy and so, so necessary.
With the scarlet ink staining his chest, she had no choice but to tear away the gold chains, to remove the cross around his neck. When her fingers locked around either end of the chain, she firmed her grip ready to tear it away, but stopped dead in her tracks when she analyzed the damage. A large dent occupied the face of the cross dead-center, caving in the head of the tiny carved out Jesus. The scratches on either side of the hole, as far as V could tell, were from the mantis blade that took him out cold. And to top it all off, there was just the smallest hole in the bottom.
A stifled laugh caught in her chest when she pieced the puzzle together.
That stupid cross saved his life.
A flick of the wrist, and the chain around his neck snapped, sound crisper and cleaner on her ears than any gunshot. Fingers twirled the silver scalpel in her hand. One cut here, another slice there, just enough to peel back the layers of skin for a clear view. Blood stained her calloused fingers—but the sight of the cut confirmed her fears. Jackie’s fourth rib was cracked. That was it. Jackie got away with a broken rib of all things.
“Ready, Jackie?” V exhaled, lip quivering, sweat forming on her brow. The blade lowered to his chest. “You’re about to see what Trauma Team’s Platinum coverage is really like.”
•••
A nick in her nail brought out a flinch. Pulling her thumbnail away from her teeth, V paced nervously beside the patient chair. Hours. It’d been hours since he went under the knife. He should’ve been awake by now. Why wasn’t he awake? Did they do everything right? Every little question that went through her head just made her that much more nervous. They’d taken out the rib and put in a steel replica, stitched all the scrapes up, sewn the lash on his chest shut, checked his vitals, pumped his system full of painkillers. Though the idiot was taking his sweet time napping like it was a trip to get his wisdom teeth out.
“V?” Vic pulled her attention away with a motion of his hand. Shoulders dropping, she followed him to the end of the room.
“How’d we do?”
“Well, he’s stable. You’re lucky that blade stopped digging at the bone. Otherwise-“
“Yeah.” A solemn nod of the head was all he needed. “I got you.”
A firm hand clapped down on her shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on him. He should be up and around in a few hours. You, on the other hand, need to go home and rest up.”
“But I-”
“He’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it.” There wasn’t any doubt in that voice. V never had a reason not to trust Vic. The old man was loyal, through and through.
God, she hated that.
“Thank you, Vic.” She didn’t give him a chance to see that sad smile of hers, and with a quick nod of her head departed the clinic for sleep ahead.
The door slid closed behind her with a rattled thud. Her mind didn’t control her body. She just started walking while her thoughts kept her preoccupied. Every time she closed her eyes, the dark of her eyelids brought her back to that harrowing scene.
Tiger Claws pounced from either side. He and V had each other’s backs. In the heat of the momet, she slipped up, ran out of bullets, didn’t see one of them coming in time… But Jackie did. Jackie pushed her out of the way and took a hit meant for her.
It should’ve been her.
Why didn’t he just listen to herandstay out of the way???
“V?”
First thing she saw when snapping back to the real world was the warm hue of candle lights cascaded down brick walls. The aroma of burning sage flooded her lungs, perfumed the air she breathed in a sigh of sweet relief. She was almost tempted to take a seat in one of the empty chairs, poised in the back of the…
Oh no.
It took but a turn of the head to locate the source of the voice. There she was, leaning over on the other side of the counter. Lips parted, eyes sullied, hands curled one over the other. Heavy air weighed down on her shoulders, dropped V’s heart into her stomach, her tongue caught in her throat, eyes dragged down to the floor so she couldn’t make eye contact.
Fuck, this was awkward. Last time she was in the presence of this woman—an innocent bystander in this emotional mess—she’d been wheeled off back to her apartment and shared a pretty deep heart to heart conversation. Now? There was rift in the ground between them. V could easily jump it, but she was paralyzed, scared to take the first step. She feared what would await her on the other side when she crossed over. Tears? Outrage? A sucker punch to the face? V felt like it was all coming, that she deserved this somehow. Misty deserved to take out her frustrations somehow. Regardless what she thought, there was only one way to find out. And now that they were in the same room again, it was time to take the leap.
“…Hey, Misty.” That slightly perplexed expression of hers morphed quickly to mask the tension and replaced it with a smile—warm, nevertheless, but a little forced.
“Is Jackie doing okay?” she inquired, a tilt of her head.
“Fine, fine. He’s just resting.” The back of her hand rubbed over her eyes. “I was headed home to do the same.”
“Hope so. You deserve a break.”
A soft grin crossed V’s lips. “Yeah. Feels like I’ve been taking babysitting jobs for everyone in Night City the last coupla days.”
“…It can’t be easy, can it?”
The question finally urged V to magnetize her attention to Misty’s face. “Beg your pardon?”
“Running around Night City, killing cyberpsychos, stealing valuables, saving people… It’s a lot to keep up with. Dangerous, too.” Misty removed herself from the counter and wandered across the room. She sat back in one of the chairs, legs crossed, hands folded on her lap, gaze far off in the distance. For fuck’s sake, V could almost see her stomach turning into an actual knot just from the sound of her voice cracking. “I don’t know how you’ve handled it up until now.”
Wow. She must’ve been thinking about that kind of thing all day if she were this bent out of shape over it. V exhaled most of the oxygen she’d been holding in and relaxed her stance, arms crossed over her chest. Her attention was drawn to a candle, idly watching its flame flicker and dance about. It was…oddly calming, actually. Of all the times she’d dropped by Misty’s place, how many did she come just to stop and relax? None. That was the problem.
“Because I love it, Misty.” The blonde perked her head up with surprised eyes, only emphasized further by the makeup. “I’m doing something that’s benefitting other people where Trauma Team and the NCPD don’t want to. It pays my bills, connects me with new people, and it gives me something useful I can do with my skillset. This thing I’m doing, that most half-wits couldn’t dream of? It makes me fell alive.”
Silence. Tension wrapped its fingers around V’s neck. She waited for Misty to say something, anything. At this rate, the quiet was more painful than anything she had to say; at least then she had a clear idea what was going on in her head. But closed lips meant a cacophony of intrusive thoughts could run rampant in her own head.
That wry smile returned with a stifled laugh. “Funny… Jackie said the same thing.”
V felt her heart flutter and stared in surprise. “He did?”
A gentle nod. “I didn’t understand why he loved it so much. But hearing the way you talk about it…” She pressed a hand to her forehead, lifting honey tinted bangs. “I get it now. ”
Just from that look, V could see the well’s worth of sadness beneath the surface. She didn’t realize until now how hard this was on them both. All she had the time to focus her mind on the last few weeks was how Misty would react to her when she finally the news about herself and Jackie. But she hadn’t even considered the possibility her favorite fortune telling friend was worried how she would respond to all of this.
V didn’t deserve a friend as compassionate as her.
“Listen, Misty,” she spoke up. “As long as we’re both in this gig, I’ll keep bringing him home alive, alright? He’s not doing this alone. Because I’ll be damned if something happens to him on my watch.”
Misty pulled herself up and approached. Arms reached out, V stiffened up expecting something bad, something like a punch or a slap. But the next thing she knew, they were hugging.
Hugging.
Hands clutched gently at the divots of her upper back, squeezing just a little for reassurance. So what did that mean? Was everything okay between them?
“Take care of each other, V.”
V stared wide-eyed at the wall before her, then down at her shoulder. Blurry; everything was getting blurry. Her eyes stung, nose scrunched, teeth gnashed together to stop the choked sob from escaping her throat. V didn’t waste another second reciprocating the gesture, arms wrapped underneath, chin rested on her shoulder, taking what little time it lasted in stride.
Hands retreated. She took that sentiment as the hint to make her exit, start a new chapter on the road ahead. Things were still shaky—and despite the trails of tears streaming down her face, the smile she bore was genuinely happy again.
“I will.”
•••
[Gooood evening, Night City! This is your man Stan, with the-]
Thatstupid voice… Sleep was a much more welcome option than having to listen to the tv blaring the weekend bullet count or something about election season. Which was worse, she knew not. Nor did she care to know.
Eyes pried open slowly, letting the light leak in so she could gradually adjust rather than going blind. Fan blades spun above her head. Hair was tangled down her back and over her shoulders. The plan was supposed to be going to bed, but with all that happened she just couldn’t bring herself to relocate from the couch. It was already comfy anyways.
“Your choom’s gonna have a panic attack when he wakes up and realizes you’re not there.”
Eyes went wide when she heard that voice—that other stupid voice. Bolting up, V took a look around and spotted the digitized Rockerboy at the other end of the couch with his feet propped up on the table. He seemed…unusually relaxed. He was right, though. Considering the time, Jackie must have been so confused to wake up in Vic’s clinic by his lonesome. Then again, after all she just did to haul him back?
“Vic will fill him in. Besides, he’d understand…” Fingers raked back through her disheveled hair. “He always understands.”
“Understand what, that you used him as a human shield?”
Brow furrowed, she leaned back and rolled her neck with an irritated huff. “Oh, fuck off, Johnny. You and I were both there. We didn’t see what happened until it was too late.”
“V, that man put a collar around his neck and then handed you the leash.”
“Yeah?” She stared deadpan at Johnny’s face. “So what, you’re saying he’s my bitch?”
“Something like that.” Pulling himself up, Johnny leaned his weight on one knee with a snide grin. “He’s thirsty like one, anyways.”
“…It sounds like you’re trying to make this out to be a bad thing, so-”
“Don’t let him go, V.”
When he glanced over, her eyes were wide open and her jaw dropped, like it’d been pulled through a taffy machine. Silver fingers raised to point at her.
“What?”
“Did you forget? I can feel what you feel. And the way you feel about Jackie, fighting through hell and high water to save his ass over and over again, I felt the same way about Alt once upon a time. The difference here is you didn’t fuck it up like I did. You’ve still got a chance to make it work.”
A boot on the couch served as his anchor when he leaned forward. His face was in hers now, dead serious through the cabernet tint of his sunglasses, and he poked his silver hand at her forehead.
“So take my advice seriously for once, and don’t. Fuck. This up.”
V really didn’t know what to say. Johnny had his moments and all, but to see him so passionate about such a personal topic was beyond her comprehension. She angled herself to pull up off the couch, hair pushed back behind her shoulders.
“I won’t,” she nodded, hands ironing down the folds in her shirt. “Not after she gave me her blessing.” It actually summoned a chuckle from her. “God, that’s gonna be a good one. How do I tell-“
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
“…The fuck?”
The front door took a serious pounding from the other side, it sounded like. Tension curled in her gut. V approached with a hand hovering down by her leg, over the strap keeping her gun holstered in place.
“Who’s there?” she hollered.
“Relax, chica! It’s just me. Can you open up?”
Shock coated her eyes when she recognized that voice. The door slid aside. Standing out in the corridor, with a couple bags of food in one hand and the other posed on his hip to keep himself upright, was her patient and once human shield with a sheepish grin on his face.
“Holy fuck! Jackie, what-”
The pain in his chest was hardly any concern—not when he came bearing dinner. “We missed lunch, so I picked something up on the way here. Is sushi good?”
“Get in here!” V exclaimed, exasperated as she took the bags and shut the door behind them. “God, Jackie, why aren’t you lying down?! You shouldn’t be putting any weight on your chest!”
“I-“ He grunted softly. Taking his place on the couch, he leaned back with a hand on one knee and that stupid happy grin on his face. “I’m fine, V. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’mgonna worry about it!” Just looking at her, he could see her blood pressure rising. V set the bags down on the table and planted her ass beside him to take a look. “How long have you been up?”
“Bout an hour. Vic told me what happened. Did you really carry me all the way to the clinic?” No concern on his face whatsoever. In fact, it seemed Jackie was ecstatic his girlfriend had suddenly turned She-Hulk to get him to safety.
She, on the other hand, was still having trouble processing how quickly he bounced back.
“Y-yeah? Well I had to do something. We don’t have Trauma Team memberships, and waiting for help wasn’t an option. If it weren’t for the reinforced tendons, I don’t think I could’ve pulled it off.” She shook her head. “And you’re sure you’re okay???”
“Better than okay! I got ribs of steel, cariño!” Jackie sat up and grabbed the bag on the table, slipping out and stacking the takeout containers on top of each other. “But since you’re so worried, I think I should crash here so you can keep an eye on me, yeah?”
He looked up, and the bewildered expression V bore shifted when she scrunched her brow, palm to her eyes trying to keep from completely bursting into tears.
“V?”
“I uh-” She choked back a laugh, and forced a grin. “I was scared for you, y’know? I mean-“ Once she saw his visible concern, she sighed and leaned back. “I talked to Misty, after I left.”
His shoulders visibly dropped, curling and uncurling fingers around the box in his hands nervously. “What’d she say?”
“…She gave me her blessing. Told us to take care of each other.” V waited for something—shock, fear, concern, anything of those things. But he stared blankly into space for a hot minute. “…Jack?”
Warmth. She saw it in his face, in those tired, battle-worn eyes, and on his lips when they peeled back into a soft smile. Relief. That’s what she made of it.
“I’m glad,” he nodded. “I was worried after we started going out she was gonna hate one or both of our guts. But if she supported you, then I got nothin’ to worry about anymore! ¡Gracias a dios!”
And just like that, the weight of the guilt, the anxiety, the fear, was off both their shoulders.
“C’mon, you gotta eat something.” Jackie popped off the lid and showed her the contents—perfectly wrapped makizushi rolls. “You still like these, right?”
A light snort, and V took it in hand for herself, free hand searching the bottom of the bag for chopsticks which she quickly took in hand. “Of course.” She plopped one in her mouth and dug in. At the rate she was eating, she could’ve set some kind of record.
“Carajo, V. When was the last time you ate?”
“What’s today, Tuesday?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
“Monday morning.”
“Fuck’s sake!” Jackie wasted no time sliding her the wasabi and the NiCola can out from the other bag. “What have you been doing all day?”
She stared at him bluntly for a second, shifting eyes from his chest to his face and back again before it registered in his brain.
“Oh.”
“Mhm.” Another gulp, and her third roll was already down. “That, and fighting on and off again with Johnny.”
“That pendejo still bugging you?”
“Nah, not tonight. Wanna hear something funny, though?”
“Sure.”
“He gave me relationship advice.”
Silence.
Then Jackie slapped his knee and burst out laughing. Just the sight of him cackling with his whole body amused her to the point she started, too.
“You-Haha! You can’t be serious!” He wiped a tear away from his eye. “We’re talking about the same Silverhand, right?”
“Yup.”
She picked up a flicker in her peripheral vision. Johnny was leaned back on the other side of the couch, obviouslyunamused.
“Very funny, Johnny’s a bad relationship guru.” He spoke with such dry enthusiasm and a flat brow, gesturing a hand to her compadre. “Motherfucker’s amused by the smallest things, huh.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Jackie chuckled, “he’s an NC legend and all. But he couldn’t give advice to save his ass if he were dangling off the side of Arasaka Tower with his good arm. And I’m not talkin’ ‘bout the silver arm!”
“Alright,that’s it.” Suddenly, Johnny was leaning over Jackie with one mechanical fist clenched tight. “V, pop one of those pills so I can give this muchacho a piece of my mind!”
What, did the big scary man hurt your feelings?
“I’m gonna hurt a lot more than his feelings when I finally get to meet him,” he barked.
It was that little bit of angry energy that got V laughing to the point of tears. After the heartache, the anxiety, the fear and constant shadow of death looming over her the last week, things were finally at ease again; the atmosphere resembled a sense of normalcy compared to when they first started living life in Night City. The only difference? She had two friends by her side, and one became something so much more to her.
Trope: when A is taken in by B, after being found hurt and unconscious
I open my eyes to the feel of something cold pressed against my chest. All I see is a blur of color, and all I can feel is pain. Pain in my side, my legs, the muscles of my arms, the sharp throb in my head.
Consciousness, it seems, is cruel—and I want to go back to sleep. But I can’t. Something feels wrong.
Then slowly, as I blink a few times, I see the metallic object take form into the metal shape of a stethoscope. They don’t press too hard against my chest.
Confused, I watch as the hand moves from one side of my chest to the other. They try to go lower, and I move my hand to stop them.
“You’re awake.” The voice comes from somewhere above me. Faintly, I recognize it. My pulse picks up.
I try and roll off the surface underneath me when their hand catches my shoulder, firmly rolling me back. At the touch, a soft whimper slipped through my lips— I bite down hard to silence the sound, but I know it’s already too late.
“Don’t move,” they say. Their words sound clipped—almost irritated. But the tone is gentle.
How… how could they find me? I shouldn’t be here. I had no memory of how I arrived.
The darkness swallowed the room whole, seeping away at their warmth and hope until nothing was left within Caretaker but cold, dark fear.
The soft glow of the nightlight barely seemed to make a difference, illuminating a small circle of wall and floor around it, but nothing more.
The curtains were drawn tight over the shut window, yet the cold somehow still managed to slip in, chilling Caretaker to their bones.
With a shiver, they leaves forwards, grabbing the folded blanket off the foot of the bed and fanning it over Whumpee’s unconscious form.
If they were cold, Whumpee had to be freezing…
For a moment, caretaker paused, squinting through the darkness as they tried to make out the bruised features of their friend, but all they could see were layers of shadows upon a canvas of darkness.
With a sigh, they slumped forwards, arms falling to rest against the mattress as their head dropped.
They were nearing the three day mark. Three days since they had rescued Whumpee from that horrible, horrible place. Three days and they hadn’t woken up.
Caretaker wasn’t entirely sure when they had begun to drift off, but the next thing they knew they were jolting awake to a light knock on the door.
“Caretaker?” A soft voice called through the wood, as the knob jiggled and the door slowly swung open. “I brought you some food…”
“Thanks, Friend,” Caretaker sighed, wincing as they say up straight, their back cracking. They blinked a few times, clumsily rubbing the sleep from their eyes.
“Of course,” Friend smiled sadly, propping open the door with their foot as they stepped inside, flicking on the light with them. “Any change?”
Caretaker let out a small groan, squeezing their eyes shut against the sudden exposure.
They took a moment to adjust to the light, their eyes bloodshot and cloudy as they glanced over to Whumpee’s abused face, looking exactly the same as it had all those hours prior.
“Still asleep,” Caretaker mumbled, heart twisting as they smoothed the blankets over Whumpee’s chest.
