#I just love them a bunch. ask me about what I think the fierce deity's relationship with the gerudo would be like and I'll explode

[thebleedingeffect]

aight ill bite tell me abt the termina gerudo :chinhands:

LETSFUCKINGGGOOOOOO okay I have to preface this that just so much of my rambling about the gerudo and termina is like, almost 100% in my brain, BUT I HAVE MY SOURCES <- sources being that I dug way too much into the scraps of world building that was given to us in majoras mask

So, to start this off and for this to make a bit more sense, I truly believe that Demise's curse and Hylia's continuous reincarnation is NOT a thing that happens in termina. The reason for this is because the golden goddesses and Hylia herself abandoned the realm a long time ago and just... exists in this weird pocket where it's technically the mirror of hyrule, but it becomes more and more different the longer you pay attention. Termina has all of the necessary components of "looking" like hyrule, but I strongly believe that without Demise and Hylia in the picture, it's been allowed to evolve in a completely different direction.

All of this leads to my thoughts about the gerudo in termina: Demise does not exist, therefore his curse does not exist and no single gerudo male is born and destined to become king. Without hyrule, the hyrulean family, and the worship of Hylia, the gerudo have no enemy that they constantly fight themselves at odds against. Within this same train of thought, that also means that there's no wider power that ties all of the kingdoms together underneath a single power, aka the hyrulean royal family.

Essentially, each "kingdom" is not bound to a higher authority and is therefore able to form their own alliances and treaties with one another without any form of royalty getting involved. This is massively important for the gerudo in termina considering that the very thing that held so much influence and power over them in hyrule- is just gone, it never existed in the first place.

But!! More on actual details of the termina gerudo!! Personally! I really like to imagine that since Demise's curse isn't a thing, gerudo voe actually are a thing! More uncommon? Yes, but a gerudo voe is not a sign that war is on the horizon or the birth of a new king, a gerudo voe is just a son. Because of this, the termina gerudo never developed such a system that automatically gives all voe power, status, and prestige :) because there's no Hylia and golden goddesses means no talk of curses and destinies, so gerudo voes are allowed to actually Exist. Crazy I know.

Another thing is that not all gerudo live in the gerudo desert! Because there was never a hyrulean war, the gerudo were much more able to spread out over the land and make other settlements. The largest settlement, other than gerudo town, of course, is the settlement that was established in the great bay region :] because of this, I really like to imagine that the termina gerudo would actually be super close to the zora! :D They're super close allies and it's not uncommon whatsoever to see zora in gerudo settlements as the gerudo and zora practically have an open door policy for one another. Over time, the gerudo have become skilled ocean farers, which is a nice call back to the fact that they were pirates in the og majoras mask!

I know it's because the gerudo were characterized to be thieves in the oot/mm time period, but I've never been a fan of that detail considering the unsavory implications to actual irl prejudices. So! I've moved around some of the details in my brain to actually allow them to be knowledgeable of the sea in an interesting, fun way rather than... that...

Bridging off that detail from earlier about gerudo voes being much more of a thing! I like to imagine that termina gerudo don't... really have the whole "men cannot enter" rule? Because so much of that can be tied back to Ganondorf, so if he doesn't exist and gerudo voe are able to be born, why shouldn't they be allowed to live in their walls? They're gerudo born and sons of both the sea and sand after all, why would they ever kick out their own kin? Simply put, they don't.

ALSO THIS IS JUST ME BEING SPITEFUL OF NINTENDO HERE. THE TERMINA GERUDO ACTUALLY WEAR PROPER DESERT CLOTHING. They don't wear fucking HEELS in the DESERT why would they ever DO THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? SO MANY BROKEN ANKLES FUCKING EVERYWHERE. Instead, the gerudo would wear more robe-like, loose fitting clothing that would allow for plenty of circulation that would keep them both cool and warm. I still like to believe that bright colors and gold jewelry would most definitely still be a thing though!! It's just that the clothing style that the gerudo have in-universe frustrates me to no end, but especially botw/totk, because that's just not how desert clothing works. Do not get me started on their face coverings, why are their noses exposed. Anyway, the termina gerudo actually cover their faces.

Because the gerudo do not have to fight for a life outside of the desert, do not experience the hostility of the hyrulean royal family, and don't have to deal with Demise's curse- they're a much more relaxed version of the gerudo, at least compared to their hyrulean counterparts. It's not uncommon to see them in clock town and practically every corner of termina as they're pushed to travel the world! And no, they do not solely travel just to find a partner, that's always been sort of a weird detail to me lmao.

One last detail- though this one is much more self indulgent and related to a whole other tangent of brain rot- I like to imagine that the fierce deity is one of their preferred patrons. Thanks to the fierce deity being seen as a vicious protector who also cares much for justice and resolution, many gerudo see their same ideology in him. So :] it's not uncommon to see moon pendants scattered throughout gerudo settlements as a sort of way to wish protection, shelter, and luck from the moon god himself :]

If I'm able to think of anything else, I'll most definitely reblog this post and add more!! Yeah, I just love the gerudo a TON and I think the concept of the termina gerudo is so fucking cool... it basically asks you to turn everything you know about the gerudo onto its head and instead question what they would be without this whole curse deal. Overall, I think the termina gerudo would have a much more secure foothold in termina as well as having WAY MORE allies throughout the land, but particularly the zora :] and the fierce deity being a sort of protective figure in the gerudo's eyes is just so fucking cool to mmeeeeee IT'S SO COOL.... yes this is me making the fierce deity a whole thing in termina, yes I have so many thoughts about the fierce deity, yes I connected the gerudo and the fierce deity in my head... in my defense, the autism-

[crazylittlejester]

okay so that one ask Gryphon sent reminded me of my idea of Pre-BotW/AoC Link being called Fauna, which I have done for my Linx AU. It’s just such a good name

also going to steal the color coding idea. because I am about to ramble about my linx au. And also wish you a nice day, have a nice week actually since it’s Sunday somewhere.

Quick thing about the AU: A bunch of the Links are Fairies and they each have titles based on their powers, Pre-BotW/AoC Link is the Fairy of Fauna, so he has control over animals. He actually has control over more nature stuff but doesn’t know that, but BotW/TotK Link does and is called the Fairy of the Wild. I literally only made it so AoC Link doesn’t know he also has more control over nature specifically so I could call him Fauna.

Here’s more Linx thoughts because I like to share:

This AU is based on the show Winx, which has too much lore to explain right now, but just know that the main characters are all fairies. Side note but I think HW Link in any universe would love the show, fairy lover he is. But all the fairies are depicted as women. There are no guy fairies as far as I could tell. So I’m left with two options: 1) have them all be guys anyway, I do what I want or 2) make them all transmasc, I do what I want.

Guess which one I chose :)

So SkSw Link commonly has a “god-killer” moniker because he killed Demise, right? Well TotK Link quite literally has a god’s arm stapled onto him. People already have the idea of the Fierce Deity being scared of Sky, but what about Wild? I characterize Wild(in this AU at least)as having the worst god complex, mainly because of his literal god-given powers.

But I don’t think Wild would be scared of Sky, no, he would be taunting Sky because his ego is just that big. He might’ve killed a god before, but he never killed specifically a Zonai, has he? And what about an extremely durable Hylian, with Zonai powers? Checkmate “““god-killer.”””

I have a list of what kind of fashion each main Link has, among other notes. Why? Because Winx is also a doll line, and doll lines like to have their doll have different aesthetics to appeal to more people. Here’s what I’ve written down as their fashion, which are honestly a bit weird lol:

Wild: Final Fantasy Vibes - Belts

Spirit: Militant Train Conductor

Apo/Apocalypse(HW): Party Gentlemen

Wind: Sleep/Loungewear

Ori(LoZ1+2): Athleisure

Alt(AlttP): Moderate Regal

Time: Forest Boho

Ani(TP): Patchwork Farmer

Hope you enjoyed my rambling, and hope you feel better! I know the feeling of finally not writing and wanting to do other things…and then end up writing. I go to draw-whoops! writing motivation. I go to write-whoops! drawing motivation. Like I’m glad I got the motivation, but can I do it later? Thanks.

THE COLOR CODING IS GENUINELY SO NICE FOR ME IT MAKES IT MUCH EASIER TO FOCUS ON THINGS AND READ. And I hope you have a nice day/week as well

ooooh thats cool!!

i hope you hit em all with the transgenderification beam alkjslkssjl, they deserve to be trans, as a lil treat

i have this mental image of Wild being like ‘hehe haha you cant get me’ doing all sorts of tricks and flips and using the zonai powers while Sky just stands there unamused 😭

OOOOOH THATS COOL, THOSE FIT THEM VERY WELL

i definitely enjoyed your rambling, and i’ve decided to touch up an ‘older’ work i posted on ao3 as a sort of middle ground between taking a break and writing because it’s not as much mental work, I genuinely hate the fic, and I get to write without exhausting myself :) (i say older just because it was one of the first fics i posted for this fandom, it was only from january it aint that old😭)

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

No one asked for my thoughts on Tears of the Kingdom but here they are, in summary:

Cons:

the Depths. I liked the idea, I liked finding a bunch of different outfits, but I felt like it didn't need to be as big as the surface map and would've benefitted from being cut down and more concise. The sky wasn't as big as the surface and that worked just fine. Plus, even though they give you clothes and items that help you see in the dark, I think each lightroot should've brightened more of the map at one time. There was a shit ton of them, and climbing in the dark was a pain in the ass

Link having no emotion. Maybe this is a nitpick, but man, I feel like Link's unchanging, stoic expression and little reactions in some of the dramatic, emotional cutscenes really took me out of the moment. It's fine to keep him mute, but give him more facial expressions! Make him have human emotions to finding out shocking things about Zelda! Link in Skyward Sword had more character because he had more facial expressions, and I just don't know why they put so much effort into the emotions of all the other main characters...except our protagonist. I think giving Link more expression would've really helped drive the emotions of some scenes home

the Fire Temple. Hated that one lmao. I wound up climbing most of it

But those are my only really cons tbh. The main pros:

Ultrahand. Ascend was a great ability, too, but I think I'd have a really hard time going back to Breath of the Wild without Ultrahand. What a fun, creative tool that changes how you approach both combat and puzzles. The Zonai devices were cool, too

The temples and boss fights were a lot more interesting in this game. I didn't hate the Divine Beasts of the previous game, but save for the Fire Temple, I thought the temples and their bosses were cooler than the Divine Beasts and the Blight Ganons

Speaking of which, omg, the final Ganon fight in this game was amazing. I won't spoil it, but I really feel like the developers listened to the criticism of Calamity Ganon not being a super interesting boss fight and improved the final battle in this game vastly. What a great sequence

The plot was more interesting! BOTW's plot and memories were fine, but there was more of a mystery here and I really wanted to find all the geoglyphs and find out wtf was going on, and I was genuinely surprised by a couple of plot points

I loved all of the different outfits in this game, including the nostalgic ones. Getting Majora's Mask was an insane challenge, and I used the Fierce Deity set so much, including during the final battles, which looked awesome in some cutscenes

In general, seeing how the world did or didn't change since BOTW was cool (I was so happy Tarrey Town was there!), and it felt good to explore Hyrule again

The stuff with the sky was cool, and I think the game had enough familiar content and new/remixed content to make it a proper sequel, as opposed to extended DLC, and some contrarians are saying

Overall, great game, so glad I played it, I think it was even better than BOTW, A+

[alovesongshewrote]

Hiiii idk if you’re taking requests or anything rn but!! My birthday is coming up in a few days and I wanted to ask if you could do a cute one shot with douxie celebrating his witch gf’s birthday 🥺 pls don’t feel obligated!!! I just love your writing SM hehe ❤️

BIRTH(Day) | Hisirdoux Casperan x Reader

Plot:  Your friends tried their best, and you had to give them that.  Besides, fire was your thing!

Word Count: 1,621

Warnings:  Pyromania

A/N:  Happy birthday anon!  Hope you enjoy this!  Also, fun fact, on my seventeenth birthday i got hit by a car, rip :/

Tag List: @furblrwurblr

“Wizard Dad, is the Witcher distracted?  Over,”

“War hammer, the Witcher is very distracted, are you sure this was a good idea?”

“Absolutely, don’t let her know what’s going on!  Over!”

Douxie sighed, “Over,”

The plan was pretty simple.  He was supposed to keep you distracted while the guardians of Arcadia set up a surprise party in your apartment.  He could only hope that things were going well on their end because distracting you was more difficult than it seemed.

But he’d managed!

You were now helping him fight off at least twenty shadow mephits, and you were not at all focused on the fact that it was your birthday.  

He wasn’t sure how it had happened.  You’d been walking through Arcadia, just vibing, when suddenly, mephits.  Douxie didn’t know if that was inconvenient or not.  On one hand, it was a distraction that he didn’t have to put any effort into.  On the other hand, you both had to wrangle the mephits.  It was, in his opinion, a draw.

“Douxie!  A little help please!?”

“I’m on it!”  

He blasted a few of the mephits away from you before rushing to your side.  You kicked one of them in the face before spinning around and firing a spell at two more.

“There’s too many of them, do you have a plan?”

He did have a plan, but that plan involved coming out of this unharmed and getting you back to the apartment.  It was not useful against shadow mephits.

“No, just keep fighting,”

You did for a few moments more before you remembered the can of hairspray and the lighter at the bottom of your bag.  Why did you have those things on your person at all times?  For situations like this, of course.  You were actually a little disappointed that you hadn’t thought of this earlier.

“Cover me!”

“Wait, (Y/N), what are you doing!?”

“Just trust me!”  you yelled, diving for your bag and digging through it.

Douxie covered for you to the best of his ability, but he was one wizard, and there were way more than twenty mephits now.  This was no longer a draw between inconvenient and otherwise, it was straight up not a good time.  He was seriously wondering what ancient deity he had pissed off to have this as a distraction, or what deity you had pissed off to have this happen on your birthday.  It could have been puppies.  There could have been puppies in the road for you to gawk at and play with, but no.  Some god out there had decided on shadow mephits.

One of the creatures jumped at you, but before Douxie had a chance to call out a warning, you spun around setting the thing on fire.  The wizard was pleasantly surprised by this, although he was a bit concerned by the fact that you had the tools to craft a flamethrower on your person.  Did you carry those on you all the time, or-?

You carried them on you all the time.  Aside from joining to form a successful flamethrower, hairspray and lighters were just important tools to have on hand.  You only used them to build flamethrowers though.

“Doux, watch out!”  The wizard jumped out of the way as you turned the flames in his direction, singing the edges of his hoodie and setting the mephits around him ablaze.

You cackled with utter glee as you set fire to the world around you.  To a bystander, it would be concerning, but you were having the time of your life, and Douxie was used to this.  He was actually more than used to it.  He’d been dating you for years, this is what he’d fallen in love with.

The fire jumped around you, seeming more alive than any other fire on the planet.  It moved almost at your command and burned brighter and longer around you.  It didn’t take Douxie too long to figure out that this wasn’t regular fire.  It was magic fire.

When you were done, you set fire to the sky for a moment, laughing still as the flames continued their dance above you.  And then, you were done.

With the mephits defeated and the fire out, you tossed the hairspray and lighter back into your bag and calmly walked over to Douxie, kissing him on the cheek, “That was the best birthday present ever.  Thank you, babe!”

You sounded so sweet, and not at all like a woman who had just set fire to a bunch of monsters.    

It was pretty hot.

You made your way back to your bag, making sure everything was in its place before zipping it up.  Out of earshot, Douxie spoke to someone you couldn’t have seen even if you were looking.

“Wizard Dad, we’re in the clear, send in the Witcher, over,”

“Perfect timing, Toby,”

“War Hammer!”

“Yes!  Right, sorry,”

“Who were you talking to?”

Douxie nearly jumped out of his skin, “Nothing!  No one!  Come on, love, let’s go home,”

“Aight.  Are you okay?”

“Yes, darling, never better,”

You bit your lip, looking at the singed edges of his hoodie, “Cool beans.  Let’s get gone,”

He smiled at you as you spun around, heading in the direction of your home.  

To anyone else, it might just be a regular apartment, but to Douxie, and to you, it was everything.  It was a place where safety was confirmed, where the two of you could be yourselves and just exist without the pressures of being known by anyone but each other.  And Archie.  Douxie loved living with you, spending time with you, all of it.  Even if some of the towels were singed, he wouldn’t want to live with anyone else.

“Douxie?  You sure you’re good, babe?”

The wizard smiled at you, “I’m more than okay, I promise,”

“Then come on,” you grabbed his hand, “Let’s go,”

Douxie was glad to follow you home.

He was less glad to open the door to your apartment to see a bit more than the towels singed.

“Oh, fuzzbuckets,”

“What?  I didn’t do this?”  you entered your apartment, trying to figure out who burned literally everything in your home if it wasn’t you.

“SURPRISE!!!!”

“OH MY GOD!!!”  you screamed, flinging your bag in self defense.  It hit Krel, knocking him out even though it didn’t hit his head.  You weren’t sure how that happened, but there was no time to think about that.  At the moment you were focused on the faces of your very embarrassed friends, trolls, aliens, changelings and humans, all of whom were probably responsible for burning everything in your apartment.

And it wasn’t only burnt.  Behind them, a white banner hung on the wall, the word, “BIRTH” was written on it in large red letters.  Someone had thrown glitter at the sign in an attempt to make it better.  The glitter, however, had not stuck to the banner, instead, it coated everything in your apartment.  You were pretty sure there was frosting on your ceiling.

“Happy birthday?”

“Aww, you guys!’  You exclaimed, looking around your apartment, relishing in the chaos, “Thank you so much!”

They all visibly relaxed, thankful that you weren’t mad about the mess.  But why would you be?  You were a witch, you could clean it.  Also, fire was your thing.  You were fine with a little soot.

Your eyes were wide as you took it all in, “You’re all so amazing!”

“It’s no problem at all, (Y/N),” Jim said, his nerves slipping into his voice as he scratched the back of his neck.

“You heard her guys!  She’s okay with the scorch marks!  Let’s party!”  Toby yelled, eager to stop stressing after what had been a very tense and flammable party set-up.

And so the party began!  It was pretty chill, there were many vibes, I don’t know how to describe it because I’ve been to one party in my entire life, but let’s just say it was dope.  Halfway through Krel woke up, and was totally fine.  Everything was going well.

And it kept going well.  

It seemed that the universe decided that a metric ton of shadow mephits and a burnt apartment were enough for one day. By the end of the night, you were pretty tired.  You’d sent the children and trolls home at a reasonable hour because you were a pyromaniac, not an irresponsible influence.

You and Douxie used magic to clean the apartment after everyone had left.

“Are you actually okay with the burns and the glitter?”

“Okay?  It literally could not be better,”  you looked at Douxie, smiling brightly, “Our friends tried their best to do something nice for my birthday.  Did they burn the apartment?  A little, but I don’t care.  It was sweet, and,” you picked up a handful of glitter, “They gave me free ammo,”

You threw the glitter at your unexpecting boyfriend, hitting him in the chest.

“Oh no, you don’t!”

The glitter fight that ensued was glorious.  You both fought bravely, not stopping for anything.  Your tactics were well thought out and nearly fool-proof, but alas, you were battling against the person who knew you best rendering all strategy moot.  After a fierce and shiny battle, you found yourself cornered by your wizard.

“Surrender, love?”

“Never,”

Before Douxie could throw more glitter on you, you grabbed his face and kissed him.  He melted into it, not noticing your hand reaching back for more glitter until it was too late.

You came away from the kiss before throwing glitter into your boyfriend’s face, giggling at the displeased look on his face.  Your laughter made him crack a smile before he kissed you again.

“I love you, Doux,”

“I love you too.  Happy birthday, (Y/N),”

[charliesopus]

I love reading people's stories of how their Deities found them, or they found their Deities and so I thought I'd share mine for others to read.

So I started to open up to the idea of the Old Gods after being atheistic for most of my life. I did always think the concept of multiple gods made more sense to me but didn't know it was... okay to worship them (it shouldn't have mattered but you know). So instead of pursuing that, and only ever hearing that the Christian God was acceptable (not from my parents, they always let me make my own choices, I just mean in general), I just chose not to believe in any higher power. It just didn't sit well with me.

Then months ago, I started to research into healing crystals, which evolved into learning about witchcraft, along with me meeting someone incredibly well-versed in all things spiritual who helped to open my mind to new concepts, accept things that I had deemed non-existent and answer difficult questions I had; I started to open up spiritually and I learned a LOT about polytheism and just how accepted it is.

Initially I started in the Egyptian pantheon, I mean, I loved Egypt since I was a kid. But after much research on all the Egyptian Gods, none really felt right to me. I really liked Bast, but it never actually clicked, you know? Then somehow the Greeks caught my attention. I don't honestly know how, or what did it but it did, so after getting attached to the Greeks, I then got attached to Athena. I felt I resonated most with Her. But after months of reaching out to Her I got no response at all and was feeling really down and well, disappointed to be honest. I didn't know what was wrong with me, why she couldn't hear me, why I couldn't hear her, or why she didn't want to work with me.

Then one day I was outside in my yard with my son,  and suddenly,  out of absolutely nowhere, this HUGE mass of hawks came circling overhead (I'm like 80% sure they were hawks) and I mean, it was a lot, it was a terrifyingly beautiful sight. Then they abruptly left, just as suddenly as they came. They were only there a very, very short time. I definitely felt it was a sign but had zero ideas on what it could mean. I asked my spiritually-inclined friend, but he said he couldn't say for sure, but just to be more aware from then on. I started researching hawks. I now feel that swarm of hawks had to be Apollo's first sign to me after reading a bunch of places that hawks are messengers of sun deities and that He's often associated with hawks as well as the ravens and crows. 

Then I stared noticing His name popping up in my head all the time, or I'd catch myself thinking of Him with having no idea where the thought originated from. This went on for a few weeks and I kind of kept shoving it off because honestly I'd never even considered working with Apollo. 

Then, now this is the craziest (and the hawks were crazy), I was putting my son to bed one night and he headbutted me right in the nose (by accident. Toddlers, it happens) so then I was just laying there in bed with him while he fell asleep, my nose and head throbbing something fierce and I took the opportunity of quiet to try reaching out. 

At this time I was still trying to get Athena's attention so I asked Her to please give me some indication She'd like to work with me. Feeling very unsatisfied I started talking to Apollo. Just kind of like to say hey,  see what's been going on since He's been in my thoughts so much.

Then,  suddenly,  there was this... click? in my head. Like, an audible snapping sound. I can't describe this well,  it's difficult. Obviously a snapping in your mind sounds bad,  but it was very subtle, not dangerous sounding or anything. Nonetheless,  my throbbing nose and head instantly went away! In fact, I hadn't felt so good and clear headed in a long,  long time.

That was my moment.  My revelation. My epiphany. It was truly an indescribable experience. Apollo is the God of healing after all.  Who else could it be? I knew I needed to stop shrugging off those thoughts and acknowledge Him. I mean, He really couldn't have been more clear with me.

And here we are, He's brought so much light and warmth to my life since then.  I'm so grateful He chose me. And can't imagine that I'd ever thought Apollo wasn't for me. Not to mention how incredibly honored I feel that He chose me. I am so excited to see what guidance He has for me,  what I can learn from Him. 

It was very emotional for me to accept that Athena didn't want to work with me,  and I had a very emotional sit down the next day with Her and I thanked Her wholeheartedly for anything She has helped me with,  known or unknown,  while sobbing and letting all of those emotions out. I can't help but feel that perhaps I'm just not ready for whatever wisdom She has for me. Or perhaps She feels I am just fine and there's nothing I need Her guidance for. 

Either way,  that allowed me to open myself up completely to working with Apollo and trying to communicate with Him and learn from Him.

I'm not great at communicating yet; I have a lot of barriers to break through from all those years of insisting there is no Divine being, but I am working on it,  and I'm so excited to see what the future holds with Him. ☀️

*This is the video I managed to capture of the birds. This was at the end as they started to disperse, so there were more a few seconds prior, and more all around outside the frame too. I just focused on the most concentrated spot. It was a sight to see!

**If anyone can identify these birds as something other than hawks, please enlighten me! I am no bird expert. I assumed they're hawks based on seeing hawks often in my area, and from cross-referencing their size and wing shape from the video and photos online as best I could.

[inazumafocus]

Fudou Akio analysis

Hello dearies! This is my first post on this new blog and I’ve decided that it will be a character analysis of Fudou Akio, hope you’ll enjoy!

Since I love studying characters I am often baffled by the lack of understanding when it comes to the ones that are a tad more complex than your regular everyday do-gooders. And when it comes to Fudou Akio I see a LOT of misunderstanding: he’s either an ass or a tsun tsun. Excuse me while I try not to barf. So, for the love of everything that I hold dear and my sanity, lets dive into a step-by-step analysis of the amazing character that is Fudou Akio.

We will start from the Inazuma Japan arch, hence him not being his true self in the Aliea Stone’s arch (everyone seems to forget how he too was wearing the stone and thus having his negative side taking advantage of him). Let’s go chronologically so we can all see how his true character unravels before our eyes and gradually morphs.

The first important scene they gave us and that we should pin point is during Ep71 “Raise the curtain! A challenge to the world!”. The coach gives precise instruction not to leave the building and for everyone to stay in their rooms, to which the general response is unhappiness and concern. Then we have Fudou, completely calm and slightly annoyed at the other’s antics “if you’re going to lose confidence just ‘cause you can’t practice for two days, then give up being a national!” as if he was full of confidence in his own abilities and while yes, he knows he’s good, we are showed a short sequence of him laying on his messy bed, with the wall next to it covered in ball’s marks and dirty clothes on the floor. It’s obvious that he was training until few moments ago, sweating like there was no tomorrow (and he probably was at it far before anybody else, since when the others are training, he’s already trying to rest).

Conclusion? He cares a lot but doesn’t trust anyone enough to show it. But why is that? Well the answer is very clear in Ep82 “The perfect strategy! Perfect zone press!”, his first official game against the Fire Dragon, and it’s given to us through a flashback. His father was a weak, inept man that left him and his mother struggling against debt collectors and his mother, although not with ill intentions, told him the one thing that would shape his way to see things and people: “grow into a powerful man so you can get back at people”. Saying this to a six years old child, whose father just abandoned and that basically lived on the streets, would obviously bring him to believe that “the strong feed on the weak in order to survive” as he will state during the match. It’s a twisted conclusion and surely not what his mother was trying to say, but his past, the things he had seen and the habitat in which he had to struggle not only to survive but to get to the top, surely didn’t help him grow into a trusting, happy pre-teen. And we have a confirmation of his untrusting nature in Ep83 “Get up captain!”, where Fuyuka states “I don’t think that person believes in anyone. That’s why no one tries to believe in him”. And here’s the interesting thing. It’s true that Fudou doesn’t trust others and it’s also true that he doesn’t care weather or not others trust him on a normal basis, but after seeing that his passes are not working because his teammates don’t trust him and his judgment on the field, then that’s a thing that really annoys him. He even looks kind of hurt.

And this is a situation we will see in several occasion (like during the match against Team K, when the Italy’s representative was having difficulties to follow his directions).

But back to ep83, we have the BIGGEST step forward for his character development! While he’s using some unorthodox methods to test and understand the rival team, getting a hand of what he’s after, Kidou decides to do the one thing he has to, in order to re-establish balance: being the first to trust Fudou. “His plays are trying to bring out the best of YOUR abilities too!” says a very clever Endou and his theory is proven by the first pass to Kidou going smoothly. “Maybe Fudou’s been working hard while we weren’t watching” that sure as hell is correct! Ever asked yourself what was he doing all the time you practiced together? Studying you, of course! So that he could lend the perfect passes and help the team wins. In the end he is still pretty detached from the others but they’re starting to slowly catching on: “what’s with that attitude?” “That’s Fudou Akio”.

So now Inazuma Japan is more prone to trust him during a match, but do they trust him as a person? Not yet. In Ep91 “Teikoku’s curse part2!” he is accused of betraying them and working with Kageyama, but what is his reaction? He laughs, without denying anything and that’s because, again, you can think whatever you want of him, it’s not his business and he seems pretty used to people not trusting him. That’s probably because to him the world works like this: no one should ever trust anyone in order to survive. He’s so used to it that when Endou says “I trust Fudou” he’s the most surprised by far.

Have you noticed anything suspicious tho? Like, for example, how easy it is to understand his true emotions just by looking at his face? It’s all written there: anger, disappointment, surprise, concern. He doesn’t hide behind a mask of indifference, he constantly shows genuine emotions through his eyes and here’s a piece of the article dedicated to him in the Animage September 2017: “He says more with his eyes. Fudou is a very blunt person but in actual fact he makes a variety of expressions. From a suspicious face, to a face full of contempt, to a shocked face – his expressions are more honest than you might think!” Is he aware of it? Does he not care? Are people always so blinded by prejudice that he thinks no one will ever notice?

Surely enough, after understanding how he wears (consciously or not) his heart on his sleeve, we can start to actually see how much he’s beginning to care for his teammates. The first indicator is the deep shock we can read on his face after Kidou “almost gets hit” by a bunch of wooden boards.

Later, on Ep92 “Terrifying! Another Kidou!” he tries to wake Kidou from his fear induced trance “stop being buried in the past already!”

(Here I would like to add how this phrase is probably referred to himself too, hence the following “you’ll be the one landing me a hand” muttered in response to Kidou’s help request “lend me a hand. Fudou, Sakuma!”. And related to this whisper of his, there’s an interesting thing his VA, Yuuki Kaji, stated in an interview on the Animage October 2010: “I had to record that line about ten times. This line in particular needs to be said gently, without any harshness”. And why should Fudou gently whisper something like this, hoping not to be heard, if he wasn’t talking about how he too was struggling to leave the past behind him and with it the old core of his existence: the hunger for power?)

Back to us! After stealing the ball from Kidou, thus helping him to weak up, he is again accused of betrayal. But this time… this time he answers. “And here I was trying to put an end to his plan by myself”. This phrase right here is another big step forward, he’s admitting that he was trying to work alone to destroy Kageyama and you could say “yes, because of personal revenge!” and the answer is: at 50%, yes. He really does want to beat him in order to move on with his past, but he is also furious with him for trying to destroy his team: “if Kageyama says he’s going to destroy Japan’s team, then I’ll bring him down with soccer!”

See? No one ever asked him to, no one expect for him to care that much, maybe not even you that are watching the show, but did you notice how he started to work with Kidou? Against Fire Drason first, then the private practice just the two of them, plus his constant watch over the other teammates, everything in order to bring the team to victory, not only himself. He is exactly what the creator intended him to be when they gave him his name. The name Fudou Akio (不動 明王), in fact, originate from Fudō Myōō (不動明王) which is the Japanese name of the deity Acala. Acalanātha means "immovable protector" and in Japan is also known with the name "Wisdom King Acala", he is invoked in Buddhist rituals to "frighten gods, titans, men and destroy the strength of demons", and he slays all ghosts and evil spirits. He is also oftentimes drawn with intense facial expression and demeanor. So, a fierce god with intense expressions, that protect others and is particularly used against demons, mmhhh does this ring any bell to you? Like, I don’t know, a certain someone always there to fight against anything and anyone ill willed? Someone with a brilliant mind? That helps others escape from the control of an evil spirit? And that will be very mad during a specific game against an army of so called demons? No?

Let’s move on.

Back to ep92 he is also very pleased when Kidou actually comes back to his senses, he even smiles and for the first time accept that working on his own just won’t do.

After that, in Ep93 "Strongest Confrontation! Penguin vs. Penguin!!" we are showed again how he looks down on his past self when Demonio goes “Commander has given us the power to fight against the world. If this is the price I have to pay for power then I can endure this level of suffering” and Fudou comments, almost as if the thought slipped through his lips, “Power, eh…” Demonio reminds him of how power hungry he was and it’s clear at this point that Fudou has bidden farewell to the words his mother said and it’s ready to close that chapter of his life once and for all after the match against Team K.  

Now we can really say that his character has reached at a turning point.

From the seemingly indifferent lone wolf that decided to come alive only during matches to a silent guy who’s able to smile with contempt alongside his teammates even off the field, like at the end of Ep95 "Desperate! Inazuma Japan Defeated!?" He doesn’t even care about victory as much as he wanted us to believe in the first episodes.

Then we got another insight on Ep96 "Fuyuppe's Secret" where he states, “looks like his leg injury wasn’t light anyway”, thus showing his close attention to the well-being of all the others and another fundamental thing! Why didn’t he tell anything to the coach if he knew Kurimatsu was injured? Well, because he respects him, his guts and his pride and in Ep107, "Grandpa's Last Note!", we have the confirmation of this theory when he is shown to have the “Heart #11: the heart to persist even if one hits rock-bottom, Warrior’s Pride”. So, being a proud warrior himself, he couldn’t, wouldn’t ever have outed Kurimatsu on something like that.

He is also making new friends aside from Kidou and Sakuma. In Ep105 "Decisive! Endō vs. Fidio!!" he high fived Someoka when switching during the match (and he also showed again just how much he trusts Kidou)

and during Ep110 "Demon Army Z!" he’s pretty pleased to have the helping hands of both Tsunami and Tobitaka while being the driving force against the hated “demons”. He is just so mad at them (*cough*ThinkOfHisName*cough*) he even takes one for the team, literally, by blocking a fierce shot with his body despite being hurt and full of bruises.

And if you’re still having doubts about him caring for the others, just watch at how he sneaks into Gouenji and Toramaru’s training to simply lend a hand and even quotes Sakuma! Also, Sakuma’s words may imply how Fudou is trying to hide his real feelings of affection for the team.

He’s gradually toning down, losing completely that poisoned tooth (even if he keeps his sassiness, thank god), when he’s around those that we can now call his friends. Because yes, they are, they know that he has that certain attitude and, as Hiroto states in Ep111 "The Devil's Decent! Dark Angel!!", “He shows what he means through actions. That’s Fudou Akio”, and this is fine by them, they accept him, even if he’s still so surprised when someone apologizes and is nice to him (but he’ll get used to it, he’ll eventually understand that he is worthy enough of affection).

It’s also important to state that when Coach Kudo calls their names during Ep122 "Inazuma Japan's Final Battle!", and everyone’s having a flashback of their first crucial step as better players, for Fudou it’s the moment when he decided to trust and cooperate for the first time, generating his first hissatsu with Kidou.

We can also see his changes by the enthusiasm he expresses after a victory. At first, he was distant, unaffected, then he started to smile a bit but while still keeping a bit of a distance, now, at the end of Ep125 “Final Truth! Number One in the World!!", he just run smiling with the others, happy as he should be and with no problem in showing it to the others.

He also shows up to the Raimon final match at the end of the graduation’s ceremony in Ep127 "Kick-off to Tomorrow!".

And finally, his speech to Tsurugi during “Inazuma Eleven GO Movie, The Ultimate Bonds Gryphon”: “Tsurugi, listen up! Friends are those you can depend on, and those who can depend on you!” This shows just how much he was able to change and mature over the years thanks to his friends!

And with this, my dearies, I salute you, hoping it was somewhat useful to you for a deeper, better understanding of an amazing character with a wonderful development!

[avani008]

"Give me a character and I will tell you…" Draupadi, the Pandavas, Karna, and Duryodhana please? Also Krishna and Balarama. (please feel free to pick and choose from this wide selection; I apologise for my thinly disguised greed. :P)

(Don’t apologize! Greed is good–in this situation alone ;)

Behind the cut because this is LOOONG. 

Draupadi

* How I feel about this character

One-half of my top two favorite characters in the entire epic and obviously a best beloved.

* All the people I ship romantically with this character…In a likely unpopular opinion, I only ship Draupadi/her husbands, and, honestly my preferred version is very much without angst at having to marry all five. My!Draupadi also doesn’t really have a favorite, other than a mild wistful partiality for Arjun; but both of them know for her to be married to him alone would work better in theory than practice, and that neither would really be happy were it so.

* My non-romantic OTP for this characterTEAM KRISHNA(A) FOR LIFE.

* My unpopular opinion about this characterRupa Ganguly was the One True Draupadi *tries to look fierce, fails*.

* One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.B.R. Chopra brings up the tantalizing possibility of Draupadi volunteering to ride on Arjuna’s chariot when the Pandavas and Krishna are coming up with the plan to defeat Bhishma, and though they end up going with Shikandi instead….True, my headcanon-Draupadi is no warrior, but the thought of allowing her some agency in avenging herself is wonderful.

* Something about them I consider true, even though it’s only my head canon/fanon

….Not true, necessarily, but one of the more-realistic-alternatives for Draupadi’s miraculous birth I really love is that of it representing a rebirth in the form of a oath witnessed by fire that two of Drupad’s pre-existing children took to wreak revenge on the Kurus.

Pandavas

* How I feel about this character

Five arrogant, dorky, but essentially good-hearted heroes whose best quality is perhaps their devotion to each other against all odds. (Their brotherly love survived being wagered away by their big brother without losing their temper–how, I can’t imagine.)

* All the people I ship romantically with this character

Mostly Draupadi, honestly–though also Hidimbi for Bhima, and Subhadra/Ulupi/Chitrangada for Arjuna* My non-romantic OTP for this character

I don’t know if I could choose just one, though: but their relationship with Pandu as kids and Kunti much later fascinates me, just in the way they are kept together by love for their parent. * My unpopular opinion about this character

I…actually think that, while they are flawed, my favorite versions are still likeable and sympathetic protagonists as opposed to jerks who are just as bad as their cousins. * One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

…I wish the twins had gotten seperate personalities, and even the other Pandavas more characterization to get rid of the “goody-two-shoes other than the gambling thing”/ “strong but stupid” / “insufferable Designated Hero” flanderizations you so often see. * Something about them I consider true, even though it’s only my head canon/fanon

The Year of Disguise was one of the defining episodes in their lives. Prior to this, they’re so often casteist/classist/less concerned with the sufferings of others, and the forced walk in servants’ shoes must have done so much to make them better people.

Duryodhana

* How I feel about this character

Entertaining villain, often scores one of the most entertaining and talented actors out of the casts in most adaptations. * All the people I ship romantically with this character

I’m come around to Duryodhana/Bhanumati, but Duryodhana/Karna is also a Valid ‘ship. * My non-romantic OTP for this character

Duryodhana/Karna, even otherwise. Give me a version where Duryodhana is just using an sweet-ignorant-and-innocent Karna and you have a very unhappy Avani *side-eyes Starbharat, and, even more so, Suryaputra Karn** My unpopular opinion about this character

I–truthfully, I think the most unpopular opinion is irritation at how much pop culture wants to blame Duryodhana and Shakuni for everything, where Karna and other characters are…actually mostly responsible in actual canon.  The whitewashing of all other characters while Duryodhana is ridiculously evil to the extent where you wonder why no one drowned HIM at birth, is just….illogical. So that’s my grumpiest opinion. * One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I want to know so much about how he actually was as an administrator! The only indication we have Duryodhana’s dying speech about how he was an awesome King and is going to heaven, that’s….showered with flowers by the gods and not disputed by Krishna, and it just makes me wonder. * Something about them I consider true, even though it’s only my head canon/fanon

Duryodhana was a very loving and indulgent father and brother (to Dushala), albeit a hypocritical one–despite his treatment of Draupadi and others, he insisted that the women he cared for be held to a higher standard.

Karna

* How I feel about this character

Rather more irritation than most people in the fandom, I’m afraid. * All the people I ship romantically with this character

I never really–grew up with stories of Karna/His Wife, so I don’t really ship him with Vrushali/Urvi/Supriya/other variations of this character. Truthfully, it’s pretty much Karna/Duryodhana, or nothing. * My non-romantic OTP for this character

Karna & Arjuna as good, old-fashioned mutual loathing, rather than Starbharat’s near-constant ~SECRET BROTHERS~ song, is….always amusing. B. R. Chopra (I know, I know, despite its flaws, a whole bunch of its little character moments have stuck with me) has this part during Draupadi’s swayamvar where Arjuna watches Karna string the bow and just…smirks. He seems almost genuinely pleased, because well–of course his rival would be good enough to string the bow. He would expect no less of Karna.* My unpopular opinion about this character

Though Karna admittedly suffers quite a bit, and is unfortunately affected by bigotry, a) there are other characters who suffer just as much if not more and b) in no way does that justify the suffering he inflicts on other characters. It’s the Snape conundrum all over again. * One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Look, the only fanon I reliably want from any Mahabharat adaptation is the impossible scene where Duryodhana finds out Karna’s true origins after his death and mourns. I’ve said this before, but the “you [the Pandavas] have no right to perform his last rites! Only I do! He was MY friend!” made quite the impression on baby Avani. * Something about them I consider true, even though it’s only my head canon/fanon

Like many a solar hero before him (I’m thinking Gawain/Gwalchmai from Arthurian myth in particular, but I don’t think that’s the only one), Karna’s strength waxes and wanes with the rise and fall of the sun.

Krishna

* How I feel about this character

A warning: I am admittedly biased, because Krishna is the deity dearest to my heart: but a god dedicated to doing the right thing rather than blindly obeying law and tradition, whose response to a devotee saying “I don’t understand” is not to command them to stop asking questions, but rather to explain again and again, is one that I believe in. * All the people I ship romantically with this character

Krishna/Everyone is….pretty much canon, but I have a soft spot for Krishna/Rukmini* My non-romantic OTP for this character

Krishna & Arjuna (if you don’t ship them) is certainly an option, but *points upwards* I’m Team Krishna(a) forever.* My unpopular opinion about this character

I have to hope that Krishna’s offer to Karna that Draupadi would be his is more of a bluff–or rather, a way of guilting Karna rather than a sincere prediction of what would, or even should, happen. * One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.* Something about them I consider true, even though it’s only my head canon/fanon

Krishna’s “women are unreliable, so just go ahead and kidnap my sister instead of proposing” spiel to Arjuna re:Subhadra is honestly tongue-and-cheek and largely because Subhadra begged Krishna to make Arjuna actually get a move on instead of waiting until she got married off against her will. I don’t care that it’s blatantly ignoring canon; but it’s one of the few scenes of Krishna in the Vyasa Mahabharata that don’t fit in with my understanding.  

Balarama

* How I feel about this character

I really like Balarama! I feel like he hardly ever gets any attention, and many of the interesting stories/episodes concerning him often get glossed over. * All the people I ship romantically with this character

I’ve started shipping Balarama/Revati something fierce after getting on Tumblr! But consider: she’s literally from another age entirely, and they still find each other! She’s taller and wiser and stronger than he is! They have no son, only a daughter, and he still never marries anyone else!* My non-romantic OTP for this character

Krishna & Balarama snarking at each other is always great, no matter what the adaptation. * My unpopular opinion about this character

Not unpopular, but I suppose not universally accepted: Balarama is the reincarnation of Lakshmana/Shesh Nag, because Balarama trying to enjoy getting to be the big brother in this birth while Krishna continues to be cheeky and do as he pleases is great. * One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I would have loved to hear more about Yadava politics than what we get, and definitely even more about Revati and Balarama–there’s hardly any mention of her in the Mahabharata. * Something about them I consider true, even though it’s only my head canon/fanon

Balarama and Krishna have perfected bad cop/good cop (or grumpy raging Yadava/ charming compromising Yadava) to an art. Both of them are perfectly capable of exploiting their reputations for political gain.

[real-fakedoors]

under leaves so green - CHPT 12 - Miraculous Ladybug

After the Dupain-Cheng family purchases a flower shop around the block from the Agreste mansion, Chat Noir frequents the spot in search of company from the manager-but-not-really Marinette. Beneath the mask, Adrien starts to struggle with how cute she looks in that green apron. (AKA: the not-really flower shop AU where basically everything is the same, but Marinette is extra stressed by her job and Adrien tries to be supportive)

Cross-posted on AO3 and FF.net

Chapter 12: A Needlepoint Peony

In which, Adrien stresses out, Marinette makes a confession, everyone is embarrassed, Tikki disappears, and Plagg fixes his whiskers.

Adrien felt, admittedly, a little bit strange.

Standing in his room with each corner dusted, polished, and achingly quiet, the place begged for the stasis to be broken. Not a sound stirred - not even the guttural gnashing of a kwami inhaling camembert, yet beyond his door there was an unusual bustle of activity.

Generally speaking, Adrien preferred for his room to have a bit of a lived in look; everything felt a little less hollow and empty if he asked the attendants to keep his bed a little unmade, or if he didn’t hang up a towel after a shower just so. Right now, though, he was the one actively scanning every surface for signs of disorder, ready to right any wrong.

He couldn’t recall any girls ever being in his room before, save Ladybug once or twice, but that had been during akuma attacks so it’s not like she had been admiring his DVD collection or cuddling with him on the couch.

At the very least, Adrien could say with certainty he’d never had his girlfriend over to the house, ever. He was only coming up on 24-hours of having a girlfriend, period.

So waiting, knowing Marinette was coming... it felt strange, definitely.

But it wasn’t bad.

“Are you ready yet?” Plagg called eventually, hovering down from the bookshelves and sporting a predictable scowl.

Adrien watched as the little kwami combed through his whiskers, and one of his tiny ears kept twitching. The behavior seemed conspicuous, considering Adrien had just been doing very much the same sort of grooming before getting dressed in fresh clothes.

“Wait a minute…”  The blond narrowed his eyes, and Plagg froze. “Are you... fancying up for Marinette?”

“Pff. No.” The kwami rolled his eyes and turned away, only making Adrien more suspicious. “That’s stupid, kid. It’s not like your girlfriend is coming to see me. Cat’s gotta look good for his own sake, thank you.”

Adrien hummed skeptically, but decided to return to the task at hand. The ebony nuisance in his life had been increasingly excited every time they went to see Marinette, and it was starting to seem rather conspicuous. Maybe it was just the tempting offers of cheese bread and croissants?.

Bouncing around his room, the tap of Adrien’s hard-bottomed shoes rang off each wall. He took time to inspect every surface, adjust and readjust the arrangement of things he had on his desk, and repositioned his desk chair to be perfectly squared up to the monitor.

Really, it was all perfect, so seeking mistakes was a wasted effort. It was just a deliberate use of time that distracted him while waiting for Marinette to arrive. Part of him wishes he thought to offer to pick her up, but the opportunity was gone.

So now… waiting.

Glancing at the wardrobe, Adrien pressed his lips together and approached the full-length mirror. In the Agreste home, formal was normal, and vice versa. He never really knew that wearing “day clothes” until the moment before he went to bed was unusual until he started visiting Nino’s, Alya’s and Marinette’s houses. There, he was free to walk around on plush carpets with or, when he felt especially daring, without socks; the concept seemed so foreign to him in the beginning.

That being said, his attire didn’t bother him - a soft, simple white shirt and a slate-colored overshirt, paired with a plain pair of navy slacks. He selected one of his pairs of well-worn dark shoes, deciding against any that seemed too dressy or that would need breaking in.

Comfort was a must.

He had plenty of support for their first date. Between the help of Alya, Nino and the others in pulling off the Attack of the Loam, his father’s surprising approval of Marinette, Chloe’s reluctant agreement to be nice, and knowing he was going to have several hours of resigned privacy with her had all worked wonders in boosting his confidence.

And, of course, there was the small encouragement he’d gotten from Marinette herself, considering she had confided in Chat Noir that she had some romantic interest in his civilian form. To use his superhero side to gain an advantage in pursuing her seemed a little unfair, like using a stimulant in a sporting event, but he couldn’t say he regretted it. One touch of their lips together had been enough to dash any harboring guilt.

And, all-in-all, the date had gone better than he could have hoped. Adrien couldn’t keep his enthusiasm contained, and when she agreed so promptly to go out with him again, he seriously considered cheering.

Yes, you absolute dork. We can go out again, anytime.

Her words undermined his typical faculties and reduced him to a twisted bunch of nerves. The mess that fell from his mouth came more in the way of reactionary instinct than rational thought, blurting his desire to have her as his girlfriend. Adrien hadn’t intended to ask her to be in a relationship so soon, but miraculously, she agreed.

Did she think he seemed adorably inexperienced, or like a anxious mess? Had he asked her too soon? It had only been one date, though they’d spent hours and hours together in the past week alone; that’s to say nothing of the past three years. How long do people in relationships usually ‘date’ before they were considered ‘dating?’ Why hadn’t he thought to ask Nino for tips on the quintessential final element to any date, the “walk her to the front door” moment? Why wasn’t there a manual for this? Had he seemed too eager? She didn’t feel pressured to agree, right?

Alas, there was no guidebook, no easy instruction kit. He couldn’t pick up “101 Ways to Ease Through Awkward Social Interactions” at the library, and there was no magical deity of romance or young love to pray to that might appear to him in a vision from the sky to answer his questions and grant him sage wisdom on new love or family dysfunction. The closest thing he had to that was a turephilic kwami, who was, at present, floating crossed-legged near his desk with an expression of irritation.

The jittery, fierce happiness that spurred Adrien on yesterday since been replaced by titular worries of the evening ahead.

First of all, they weren’t going to be alone, and he had only a few hours to prepare.

They were having dinner with his father.

He, his father, and his girlfriend, sitting around the dining table together.

The most uncomfortable iteration of the Last Supper came to mind, but he quickly shook away the inane thought.

Second was the prospect of dinner it self. Adrien hardly ever ate with company, let alone the aberrant match that was Marinette’s soft-spoken kindness and his Father’s critical, cutting commentary. What should they talk about? He could only hope the two would find enough common ground in fabrics and fashion to carry them through the evening.

Unwittingly, Adrien had begun to pace his room, the metronomic clap of shoes on tile providing a backbeat to his mounting anxiety. Plagg said something and the blond glanced up, but Adrien didn’t quite catch it.

When their gazes met, a random train of thought popped into his head. The kinds of question you never think of until you’re living through the moment. “Did you want to come in my pocket down to dinner?”

Raising a brow, Plagg tilted his head. “Why would I do that?”

“Er… you usually do? Most of the time it’s just you and me, though.”

“Oh.” Plagg tapped a black paw to his whiskers. “I guess I do, don’t I? Uhh…nah. You got this.”

“Something is up with you,” Adrien squinted his eyes at the black cat, who merely pointed his chin and looked away.

Adrien waged a finger at him. “Whatever you’re hiding, I’ll find out eventually!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his kwami insisted, flying away.

“Adrien?” A voice beckoned not a moment later, in time with three rapt knocks.

He did a final check of himself in the mirror, took a deep breath, and walked towards the door.

“Yes, Nathalie?” He answered politely, already knowing what she was going to say. Marinette was here, probably looking so lovely he’d forget how to speak. She could show up in her dirty work jeans and he still would swallow his tongue.

Just gotta relax.

It’s only dinner.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by his father’s assistant’s typically perfected posture and a small smile, but bowed besider her was head of black hair, half-pinned back to keep the tresses from her face.

“Mme. Dupain-Cheng is here,” stated the lean woman, stepping aside to present his guest. Every ounce of confidence he had as Chat Noir evaporated into a dizzying headrush when she peeked up from beneath long lashes, looking as flushed and as he was nervous. How do people on television or in Disney movies sweep girls off their feet so easily? Adrien could barely manage not to stare.

“W-welcome,” he cleared his throat, trying to focus on the woman between them who was scrolling through her tablet absently. “Thank you, Nathalie.”

“Yes. The chefs are saying dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, so come down soon.”

At that, she promptly turned and left them alone, her heels receding in the otherwise clipped silence.

Marinette looked more beautiful than he could have imagined - she was more than that, her whole appearance was scenic. A mid-length skirt skimmed her calves, pleated and pastel pink, making her look more sophisticated than her usual capris or work jeans; her torso was wrapped in a seamless array of breathable cotton, accented at the seams with white lace that complemented her porcelain skin like a subtly harmony to his favorite song. The top floated over her skin and stopped just as the skirt reached her waist, extending up and hugging her collarbone snugly. The neckline kept close to her neck, exposing most of her shoulders, though his attention was drawn mostly towards the careful embroidery in the center of the bodice. A sprig of hand-woven flowers, dyed in tones of subdued greens and gradiants of pink, comprised in needlepoint, brought the ensemble together.

Where she looked hauntingly alluring yesterday night in cuts of crimson and black and white stripes, today she seemed dreamy and pastoral.

“Is it… too much?” Marinette glanced up, brushing her skirt and picking at invisible loose strings. Blue eyes dodged away from his when Adrien met her gaze.

A little more quietly, she added,  “I didn’t know how… fancy to get. Sorry.”

“S-Sorry?” Adrien swallowed hard on his throat. He extended a hand, a careful and shaky invitation to step forward. She cracked a tiny smile and accepted.

The blond was already smiling, apparently, because his cheeks were starting to hurt. “How could you apologize? You look so… so pretty, Marinette. Did you embroider that yourself? It’s really amazing.”

Cheeks matching her skirt, she giggled and entered his room, eyes scanning the tall ceilings and giving him the chance to breathe. “T-Thank you! And, yes, I did. You look really nice, too.”

His heart swelled at the compliment, though he tried vehemently to seem casual.

“Thanks, just some of my Dad’s clothes. I mean - not my Dad’s clothes, but Gabriel brand.”

Marinette wandered over to the arcade machines, but paused to tilt her head in his direction. She wore a confused smirk.

“I… just tried to imagine you wearing your Dad’s… suit. The one he always wears.”

Adrien snorted, brightened by softness of her voice when she laughed. Somehow, it both filled him with happiness and anxiety, but it was enough to give him some foothold of confidence. “Ascots aren’t exactly my thing, I’m afraid.” He moved beside her and gestured to the classic systems. “I know you like Mecha Strike, but what’s your take on the current ‘retro craze’?”

“They’re great, of course. Though I’m not nearly as skilled as dodging barrels and saving princesses as I am at whooping giant robot butt.” Marinette said, poking one of her cheeks with a finger.

“I’d ask if you wanna play, but dinner’s soon and these are designed for one-player.” He rubbed his chin. “We could play some video games after dinner? I’ve got… uh, a lot.”

“Oh?” She seemed curious, so he gestured for her follow. They promptly ascended his twisted staircase and he brought her around to the bookshelf beside his rock-climbing wall. Divided by console and sorted alphabetically, he waved a hand at the hundreds of games he’d accumulated over the years.

“Holy brioche…” Marinette muttered, craning her neck to take it all in. Beside her, Adrien permitted himself to feel just a tiny bit proud of his collection, glancing at her wide-eyed wonder.

“The systems are downstairs in one of my closets, so, you know, we can pick out a few and play them after dinner. Whatever sounds good.”

Mutely, she nodded her head and moved to the ladder and squinted up at a certain section. Adrien followed her gaze.

“Nintendo 64? I don’t know why, but I took you for a Playstation girl.”

Already a few steps up, she murmured. “Actually, I mostly played computer games. I didn’t get to play Nintendo much growing up, I’ve tried a bunch of emulators, but they’re always a little sketchy… It would be so cool to play some of the originals. Like… Mario Party! Yes. You have it!”

“Pff, of course,” he said, amused by her enthusiasm. “I have them all, sort of out of habit really. I almost never played those.” Marinette snatched the cartridge from the shelf, handing it down to him. Adrien started a pile on the corner of an eye-level shelf for games to bring down later.

Humming as she selected a few more games, he mused to himself. “You know, growing up with just Chloe to play with, we didn’t spend a lot of time on video games.” He paused when Marinette laughed.

“Yeah, I know - you must be very surprised to learn that Chloe wasn’t a gamer.”

“I can hardly contain my shock.” She chirped back sarcastically, scanning the shelves. Adrien was about level with her calves, and tried not to focus on the bit of skin her skirt left exposed down to her honey-colored ballet flats.

He said the first thing he could think of to distract himself. “But - y-yeah. I mostly played single-player games, campaigns or adventure mode or whatever. Sometimes I would play games with my Mom. She liked them, or at least, pretended to since I did. She could even get Father to play them with us occasionally - but a lot of Nintendo’s stuff is designed with groups in mind.”

Marinette responded thoughtfully. “Hmm… I suppose it’s not much of a Mario party if it’s just… Mario.”

Biting his lip, Adrien knew this was uncharted conversational territory. Without compass or guide, he didn’t really know where to go when it came to talking about his parents.

Marinette, thankfully, took the task of navigation upon herself. “What character did you like to play as? In Mario Party, I mean.”

His brow arched, her hands still fluttering over the cartridges at her level.

“Hmm… that’s a good question. I always liked green, so mostly Yoshi, or sometimes Luigi.”

“Good,” she responded, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “I wanted to be Princess Peach, and I was prepared to fight you if I had to.”

Wearing a grin, he raised his hands in defense. “She’s all yours, Princess!”

Marinette stopped her searching, and Adrien’s eyes went wide.

Ooh. No, no, no.

His Chat side peeked out by accident, and Adrien blushed and stuttered to make up his mistake. “P-P-Princess… Peach! Yes. She, Princess Peach, is all yours. She was my Mom’s favorite too.”

Marinette’s brow had furrowed momentarily, but she seemed convinced by his explanation, and Adrien exhaled a small amount of panic.

“Okay, I think I’ve looked enough,” she said, starting back down the ladder. A shoe clattered to the ground in her descent, followed by a shrill squeak and a much louder clatter of skin and arms smacking into each other.

Marinette missed a step when her shoe came off, slipping back and crashing right into Adrien; cat-like reflexes can only get one so far with a girl as clumsy as Marinette.

By some small miracle, he didn’t get thrown over the railing, though his current posture was plenty uncomfortable. Leaning back over the glass ledge, the edge of the bannister pressed painfully up against his spine, Marinette’s body weight was basically crushing him further into it. The best he could do in the way of catching her was keep her head from smacking back into the railing or collapsing straight onto the floor. Her now slightly-tousled hair and exposed upper-back from the cut of her bodice were pressed up against him and she had half-bent and gripped her hands on his thighs in support to keep from hitting the floor.

Her perfume greeted him, rising from her silky smooth hair and bare shoulders. From this angle, he could basically feel every inch of her body pressed up against him, and he was aware of it in - ahem -  more ways than one.

Chuckling weakly, Adrien forced himself to put a safe, chaste distance between them. It was more difficult than it should have been, rather enjoying the way her hair tickled his chin as she scrambled to standing. It was easy to admire the smooth skin of her collarbone, or to appreciate the warmth that radiated from her body. It was like the world’s best, most beautiful blanket.

“Ooookay, up you go,” he said, supporting her from beneath her elbows and resting a delicate hand on her back. Her skin turned prickly under his touch, and it was stupidly thrilling.

You haven’t even made it to dinner yet and you can’t keep it together.

Exhaling slowly, Adrien affixed his face into a mask of sympathy and concern. “Mari? Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?”

She blinked several times, looking at her own hands numbly, and he started to fear maybe she had hit her head when she broke out into a smile. Wide, glittering, and plenty embarrassed.

“No - no I’m fine. Thank you, Adrien. I’m sorry I fell on you.”

“Better me than the floor,” he said, chuckling and sighing in relief. She joined him for a spirited giggle, both laughing until they were breathless and dizzy. Maybe that was just the intoxicating effect of being with her, though - Adrien almost always felt light-of-head around her anymore.

By the time they were both properly righted - skin tinted pink from the euphoric giggles that swept up both of them - and standing on their own, Adrien retrieved the stack of games Marinette had selected and led the way back to his ground floor.

“Okay, just the Nintendo 64 for tonight?” He noted the very distinct shape of all of the games, and she nodded.

“If… if that’s okay. I, um,” she fumbled with her thumbs, and Adrien thought it was adorable. “I figured we could… play different systems another time. You know, since we’re, um, together now…?”

She peeked at him, and Adrien positively beamed, walking across the coffee table and wrapping his fingers in her own.

“I’d love that. We’ll play our way through all of them.”

Eyes sparkling, a blue more vivid than any sea, she looked like the human iteration of the most tranquil night across France. Soft skin, a gentle smile, an exuberant mood, and dark, rich hair like a painted, starless sky.

Slowly, Adrien focused on his composure, inhaling through his mouth and letting out the air through his nostrils. “Ahh… right, so just to warn you - my Dad can sometimes be… um, abrasive. He’s sort of polite to the extreme, but if he says anything that hurts or offends you, don’t be afraid to say something - even if it’s just a signal to me or something. The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable.”

Marinette nodded a few times and scurried behind him out of his room, Adrien catching the eye of a jerkish kwami across the room as he closed the door. Plagg was sticking his face out of the camembert cabinet, puckering his lips and making his whiskers dance in the mocking display.

When he turned back to his - his girlfriend (it was still impossible to believe) - she was wearing a cute smirk and had a hand at her hip.

Marinette’s voice was low. “I did survive over an hour on Sunday with just me and him, or did you forget?”

“I didn’t, not exactly,” he grinned and led them down the stairs. “I’m just still not convinced it happened. A very thorough prank, perhaps.”

She snickered and rolled her eyes, the way she always does, and he loved it.

“I can barely walk in a straight line - you seriously think I could cook something like that up?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured as they approached the dining room, peeking his head in. His father was sitting at the head of the table, speaking quietly with the chef. The food in the room smelled heavenly, and oddly out of place. “You continue to surprise me, Mari.”

She pinked slightly, and Adrien pulled her into the room with a smile on his face. His Father stood up when he noticed them, and the chef gave a hasty farewell.

“Father,” Adrien said, palm feeling a little sweaty against Marinette’s. She untangled their fingers to take a bold step forward, positively radiant while she did so.

“Bonsoir, Monsieur Agreste,” Marinette greeted brightly, bowing her head politely. Adrien studied his father’s expression, hardly believing the small smile he saw there. “Thank you so much for allowing me over for dinner tonight. It’s an honor, sir.”

Posture rigid and hands folded behind his back, his father stepped away from the table slightly to greet them. “That is a kind of you to say, Mme. Dupain-Cheng. Or, would you prefer just Marinette?”

Adrien respected how composed she managed to be before Father, especially when his attention flickered down; her hands were shaking.

“Marinette is perfect, sir. Thank you.”

Feeling his heart squeeze slightly, Adrien couldn’t pass the chance to half-tease, half-compliment her. He sidled up beside her again, wrapping a careful arm around her waist and met her startled stare with a cheeky smirk.

“Marinette is perfect. You’re definitely onto something there.”

She turned the color of her Banks’ roses and ducked her head, and Adrien’s attention returned to his father. Aside from a raised brow, his expression appeared only amused.

This is so weird. Adrien thought, wrinkling his nose. But good.

“Well, if you are ready to eat…” His father gestured for them to sit, and Adrien almost turned back to the other end of the table for his usual spot. Marinette was too quick, though, and she started to sit down two seats from his father. The middle spot was clearly intended for him.

Settling into the chair, Adrien pursed his lips and looked down at their plates. Everything was, of course, perfect. The table had been perfectly prepared for a classic four-course meal, and it almost made him want to roll his eyes - he’d have to remember to mention to Marinette this was not a typical dining experience at the Agreste house.

It was sort of sweet, though, as he examined the varieties laid out for the first course. Each serving was small, from the Tapenade Noir a la Figue and Pissaladiers to the Brandade de Morue au Gratin. The fact that his father had gone through the trouble to entertain Marinette - to make such a gesture of meeting his girlfriend, formally? It brought an appreciative smile to his lips.

Scratching his cheek, Adrien popped a tart in his mouth and thought about something to talk about.

“So… did Marinette mention to you that she makes clothes?” He asked his father, and he could see Marinette fidget in his periphery. She hastily shoved some of the potatoes in her mouth.

Raising both brows, his father looked at Marinette and then back to Adrien. “Well, no, not exactly. Though I figured as much - she was most helpful the other day with a design of mine.”

“Oh yeah?” Adrien turned to Marinette, whose gaze flickered up to him helplessly. She looked so cute when she was embarrassed, he found her hand under the table and squeezed it in reassurance.

“She made the outfit she’s wearing right now. Isn’t is incredible?” He grinned at her, at least having enough mercy to blush.

“Adrien!” She hissed, turning even redder. “It’s - it’s not much, really. Just something I threw together, heh, since I work with flowers all day. Not really original. Nope. I’m sure you get inspiration from much more interesting things.”

His father smirked and ate quietly, watching them carry on like he wasn’t even there.

“Don’t be modest, Mari. You’re really talented.”

“I… I just dabble! That’s all. R-really.”

“Let’s be honest,” Adrien said, turning slightly to better face her. She was pouting, cheeks stuffed with figs and bread. “Do you just dabble in anything? You’re basically an expert in flowers, baking, and fashion, and you could ruin just about anyone’s self-confidence playing Mecha Strike.”

“Adriennn...” She covered her face with her hands, voice squeaky. All he could do was laugh, feeling a little guilty for flustering her, but he couldn’t help gushing about her.

“How did you get interested in fashion, Marinette?” His father cut in, and Adrien practically flew back in his chair. He had almost forgotten his Dad was beside him.

She lowered her hands, still red as a tomato, and reached for her cup of water.

“I… um… I’m not sure, actually. I’ve always liked drawing and designing,” she began slowly, and Adrien used the chance to catch up on his appetizers.

“When I started to pay more attention to how other people dressed, I sort of just… decided to teach myself to sew. I didn’t like the way other clothes fit me. I’m sort of on the short side, like my mother, so anything that fit me looked too childish while everyone else started to grow, I guess, and anything I liked was too big.” She hummed momentarily, chewing a tart. “So I decided to make things I knew I would be comfortable in, and reflected me best.”

“That’s very utilitarian of you,” his father commented. Marinette blinked, apparently unsure if that was a compliment or not.

Adrien decided then to jump in. “What’s your favorite thing to design?”

They both answered, which surprised him.

“Dresses.”

A pause, and the chef came out to switch their course for the main course. Adrien hardly paid attention while the plates changed, too interesting in the curious turn in conversation.

“And why is that, Marinette?”

“Uhh…” she cleared her throat. “Well… I’m not sure, actually. Probably because they’re the hardest to design; it’s extra rewarding when you get it right.”

“Hmm. I find menswear more challenging, personally,” his father mused, rubbing his chin. “But I do see your point. To me, a gown is a perfect canvas - the rules are only that it must be a single item to be worn, but otherwise, there are no limitations.”

“It’s the definitely the thing I have to try the hardest to be creative with,” Marinette replied with a furrowed brow, nodding. “The fact that it’s so flexible is what I find challenging about it.”

They both ruminated on that while stopping to eat some of their meal, and Adrien felt much more relaxed for how easily the conversation was flowing. Of course, Marinette was so sweet - it was hard to resist a charming, intellectual conversation with her, but it was still bizarre to see it have an effect on his characteristically stoic father.

Adrien caught her eye as she dabbed her lips with a napkin, so he decided to shoot her a wink. Marinette scrunched her nose up in response, her wordless disapproval downright adorable.

“So, if I am remembering correctly,” his father said after a pause. “You both met in Mme. Bustier’s class, at Francios Du-Pont Academy?”

“Yes,” Adrien said, tilting his head. “Although we sort of got off on the wrong foot.”

His father seemed surprised. “Oh, and how’s that?”

Adrien deferred to Marinette to answer. “Well…”

She got his meaning, chewing her food and swallowing. “Yeah, it was kind of my fault. I thought, because he was friends with Chloe, he was trying to pull a prank on me. So I sort of gave him the cold shoulder, but I realized I was being unfair to him.” Scowling, she glanced over to the blond. “I still am sorry about that, by the way.”

“Don’t be,” Adrien shook his head. “I could see why Chloe’s association might have not painted me in the best of light.”

Marinette smiled kindly, the gesture reaching her eyes.

“Well, I am glad to hear you reconsidered your assessment of my son. He was very nervous when he expressed interest in taking you out for a date.”

Almost kicking the table, Adrien turned an impressive shade of scarlet. “F-Father! Please.”

Marinette giggled at his distress, hiding a wide smile behind her fingers.

Despite his plea, his father didn’t hold back. Instead, he tucked both hands under his chin and leaned back slightly in his chair.

“Now son,” his father said, chuckling. “There are a few crucial things I am responsible for as a father. Embarrassing you in front of your girlfriend is one of them. I’ve had stories saved in my back-pocket for years.”

Practically bouncing in her seat, Marinette’s hair danced around her shoulders. “Oh, I’d love to hear a story!”

“Noooooo…” Adrien groaned, and now he was the one to cover his face with his hands. “Why did I agree to this?”

Slyly, Marinette took one of his hands and patted it gently. “There, there. It’s only fair after all of the puns I’ve suffered because of you.”

The remainder of the meal passed with more cheer than Adrien could have imagined, Marinette being positively tickled by his chagrin. Several of the stories recounted his mother, a few of which Adrien had forgotten himself. A small part of him was feeling grumpy for being the butt of the joke, but the overall mood was too infectious, and to see his father smirk and laugh occasionally was a refreshing change. Adrien, resigned to his fate, let himself enjoy the food and tease along until dessert was served.

Marinette sighed after a particularly airy wave of laughter. “Aww, so you and Chloe would play dress up?”

She put her hand on his shoulder and rested her chin there, pseudo-pitying him.

Adrien pointed his own chin forward while their plates were taken away so dessert could be brought out, fighting to hide a smile. She looked so pretty, perched on his arm like that.

“Yes, as a matter-of-fact. I mentioned Chloe didn’t like video games, and growing up in a literal fashion house granted a great opportunity for fun when it comes to clothes. Mother would encourage it, if I recall?” He partially asked the question to his father, who sighed and nodded, looking absently at the chandelier.

“Oh yes. If your mother wasn’t modeling the clothes, she was putting them on you. Large boas, daring furs, expensive heels - anything and everything you wanted to put on, she would let you pick it out and model it on the runway in my office.”

Marinette bit her tongue and tried not to laugh, though it was in vain, and he felt himself redden slightly. Trying to brush off the embarrassment, Adrien remarked, “Well, I suppose I can make anything look good.”

“Definitely,” she replied with a dreamy smile, leaning probably a little closer than was appropriate with his father present, and they broke apart when the chef re-emerged from the kitchen.

“Well,” he announced, clapping his hands. “We had only planned for the Crème brûlée, but since Mme. Dupain-Cheng was so kind to bring Pain au chocolat, the kitchen is pleased to serve both this evening.”

“Thank you, that will be all,” his father replied briskly, and the man bowed and brought out the two choices. Each looked picturesque, like the sort of desserts one might see on a classic French cookbook, and Adrien was glad to have eaten light on the earlier courses.

“I didn’t know you brought anything,” Adrien directed the comment to Marinette as he snatched up the Pain au chocolat almost the moment it was presented on a humble gray platter. It seemed out of place from the rest of the meal’s china, so he assumed it belonged to the bakery.

“Maman and Papa insisted,” she replied shyly, tapping the top of her Crème brûlée with a spoon. It granted her a very hard, satisfying knock in return before cracking. “And really, it’s the least I could do. I didn’t expect such a meal. Thank you, Monsieur Agreste, Adrien.”

Trembling fingers patted around the edge of his chair, clamping down when they found his hand. Adrien rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumb.

“It’s a pleasure having you, Marinette.” His father answered.

“Oh, this is so good,” Adrien spoke with his mouth halfway full, and two sets of eyes rolled at him.

“Manners, son.”

Hastily chewing, he managed a sheepish grin towards his father. “If you try the Pain au chocolat, you’d know it defies etiquette.” He cleared his throat. “But Father is right - I’m glad you agreed to come over, Mari. This has been so nice.”

Even though she ducked her head, hair partially obscuring the soft features of her face, he could still see the rosy hue that colored her cheeks. She was too beautiful to bare, and his grip on her hand tightened only slightly - a protective, loving sort of grasp.

You’re mine.

All mine.

She squeezed back.

His father had selected one of the Dupain-Cheng treats, and Adrien pursed his lips suspiciously. He had half a mind to point his finger and ask what this man had done with his real father.

After a slow, thoughtful bite, the man impersonating his father offered his compliments. “Your parents make an excellence Pain au chocolat, Marinette. Please give them our thanks.”

“I’ll be sure to pass it along the kind words,” Marinette offered warmly, practically buzzing in her seat as she savored the carefully prepared burnt cream. “They are always so touched to hear things like that.”

“Of course.”

Adrien ate another of the Dupain-Cheng desserts, preferring the light fluffy dough to a rich cream, and Marinette sighed happily when she sat back in her chair.

Releasing a low exhale of his own, Adrien’s father stood, indicating dinner officially over. “So, are you doing anything else this evening, or should we have a car come around to take you home?”

“We were going to play some video games,” Adrien offered, and Marinette nodded. “If… if that’s alright.”

“I don’t see why not,” he commented, leading them into the foyer. Marinette politely excused herself, seeking the bathroom, so he was left alone with his father in the hallway.

“Just be sure to have her returned home in time for her curfew.”

“That’s 10:30.” The blond glanced at his watch out of habit. It was just passed eight in the evening.

“I can let Nathalie know that you’ll need the car by 10:15.”

Before Adrien could thank his father, the man grimaced.

“Adrien?” His voice was off, and he studied the stairs like they insulted his designs. “She is a… very sweet girl. I’m, er, happy for you.”

Suddenly, Adrien found his thumbs very interesting, but managed a respectful response. “... I’m glad you think so. She’s really special to me, so… thanks for taking the time to meet her.”

“Your mother would have really liked her, I think.” The man added wistfully, and Adrien’s thought he sounded strained. He wasn’t exactly surprised; they had talked about her a lot tonight, probably more than they had since she disappeared.

Adrien bit his lip, hiding a grin. “You think so?”

His father’s response was decisive. “I know so.”

For what felt like the first time, the two men met eyes and shared a real, knowing smile. It was heavy, and appreciative, and tired. It was filled by absence and regret, unasked questions with untenable answers. Tonight, though, the tension felt a little less like shackles and a little more like hope. Like forgiveness, and apologies, and a handshake or a hug. It was just a look, but it felt like more than that.

A beat later, a lively pair of blue eyes re-emerged from a hallway, carried by the sound of her soft-bottomed shoes tapping against stone marble. Adrien’s father turned promptly towards her as she peered around the doorway, and his voice returned to its usual even tone.

“I have some work to return to, so I’m afraid I won’t see you out this evening. Nathalie and Adrien will see that you get home safely. Do take care, my dear.”

Stuttering, she bowed. “Y-yes, of course. Thank you! It was a pleasure. An honor, really, sir.”

Adrien wore a bemused smile as the two interacted, thinking he could get used to this side of his father, and certain he would never tire of Marinette’s blush when she flustered.

Again, his father glanced in his direction, holding his gaze for only a moment. He nodded towards his son and receded quickly into his office.

“Phew,” Adrien exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath until Marinette was in front of him. He should have taken a larger inhale, because the way she peered up at him took the air right back out of him.

“Ready to lose?” She smirked, and Adrien raised a brow.

“It seems it’s time to get the Party started?”

She deflated. “Take me home.”

“Mari!” He laughed, but she maintained a straight face, marching up the stairs towards his room. Adrien felt his stomach flutter as she walked away, the back of her blouse cut to expose a large part of her back. Gulping, he trailed after her, feeling a thrilling sense of nerves when she smiled smartly down at him.

 --

 “Agh,” Marinette muttered, her tongue sticking out in frustration as the results rolled in.

She hates losing. She really, really hates losing.

Especially to someone like Adrien, or Chat Noir, or Nino -- those that she could think of offhandedly. The kind of people who rubbed it in her face that she lost. The kind of people who got freakin’ smug when she lost. Oh, boy, did she hate that.

So during the closing ceremony, it was that much more thrilling when Toad announced that she, in fact, had won. Princess Peach managed to win by a slim margin of exactly three more coins than Yoshi. There was no way of keeping score of the bonus Stars until the end, and they had tied in everything else that was measurable. It was sort of incredible how evenly matched they were, flat out bulldozing the computer players in the process (to be fair, they left their difficulty on easy since she had never played and it had been so long since Adrien had either).

“Oh. Oh!” She had already put down her controller in defeat, which was probably for the best, because she leapt up from the couch with such force she probably would have ripped the Nintendo from the T.V.

Adrien groaned and leaned into the arm-rest of the couch. “Damn you. Hooooowwwwwwww?”

Marinette couldn’t help her excitement, always relishing victory (it was a quality you almost had to have being a superhero), but she at least kept the gloating to a minimum.

She sat back down and took one of his hands in her own, pressing her lips to it softly. “I’m sorry, Adrien. If it’s any consolation, I really thought you won.”

Peeking at her, though his face was still mostly in the sympathetic comfort of the couch cushion, he responded, “I’m not consoled.”

“What can I do?” She teased, still holding his hand; normally she’d be way too bashful to dare something so bold, but she was too overcome with the waves of triumph to bother.

“I feel like I need a win, or I’ll never get out of my mood.”

Pursing her lips, she smiled devilishly and turned his hand over, closing his fingers into a fist.

“Thumb war?” She challenged.

Smiling, Adrien chuckled and sat up, locking their hands together. “Thumb war.”

They both adjusted slightly on the couch, Marinette having kicked off her shoes over an hour ago. Adrien had joined her, wiggling his toes through dark socks, looking adorably foolish.

Positioning her skirt in front of her knees and crossing her legs carefully, Marinette watched as Adrien crossed his left leg over his right to better face her. They sat so close their knees touched, but Marinette refused to let herself be distracted.

“Ready?” He smirked.

“Ready. But I’m not just going to let you win. You have to earn it.”

In unison, while trying not to laugh, they started their tiny wrestling match.

“One, two, three, four…”

“I declare a thumb war!”

Adrien had a clear advantage, she soon learned, and began to regret her suggestion. While her thumb was thinner, it was also shorter, so it was harder to gain leverage against the back of his thumb. She almost had him at one point, but he faked her out and quickly captured her beneath him.

Marinette knew she wouldn’t be able to win, and in fairness, she should have been okay with that. Adrien said he wanted to beat her, but that’s simply not how she operates. After all, she’s Ladybug - it’s not like she could just… give up! Surely Paris would forgive her if she cheated just a little to win, right?

She shot out her other hand and brought it to the side of his abdomen, scratching and tickling him with her nails. Adrien began to laugh immediately, and tried to swat her hand away, but she used his distraction to her advantage and quickly claimed her victory.

“Hah!” She leaned back, laughing as the confusion and subsequent realization washed over him. Adrien scowled, one hand still touched his ribs where she tickled him.

“Oh, Mari, I wish you hadn’t done that.” His voice was deadly serious, and Marinette raised both brows.

Playing innocent, she cupped her hands together and pressed them to her cheek. “Oh, and why’s that?”

“Because it is now my right to tickle you.”

Before she could so much as breathe a word of protest, Adrien launched himself at her and his hands tasered her rib cage, though the startling sensation of his touch did even worse damage to her heart. Marinette was pretty sure she’d need to invest in a pacemaker to fix the steady arrhythmia that had her blood working overtime, pumping erratically, nonstop, since Sunday.

She tried to kick and squirm and tickle him back, but the effort was futile. The thumb war should have told her this was going to be a bad idea, because much like their hands, he was simply bigger than she was - maybe not stronger, (although, her hyperventilating lungs argued, he does have some pretty amazing muscles) but size definitely mattered in a tickle fight.

“S-Stop!” She said through a flurry of laughter, her face twisted up to a smile with cheeks so red she probably could have passed for Ladybug if she had worn something more form fitting.

“I’m afraid you lost the right when you cheated, Mari,” he said through his own laughter, unable to keep the giddy grin off his own face.

“Nooooo!” She squealed, hands frantically batting his away. “I’mSorryI’mSorryI’mSorry!”

Adrien sighed contently, wearing a smile that radiated with victory. “That’s better.”

Her lungs ached from the waves of giggles, and he was in much the same state, but instead of catching her breath she felt the last of her spirit leave her body.

Adrien was on top of her.

On his couch.

In his room.

She flustered to get up, and Adrien apparently caught on to their compromising position and almost fell back off the couch in his attempt to release her.

“Sorry,” he said, scratching his neck nervously. “I got a little carried away.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, covering her heart with a hand in a conscious effort to slow the frantic beating.

“Don’t be…” she mumbled, taking in another deep breath. “I probably deserved that.”

Her eyes fluttered open when she heard Adrien shift slightly on the couch, and he turned to look at her with sincere, sparkling eyes.

“Did I tell you that you looked really beautiful in that outfit? I probably did, but it’s worth saying again.”

Marinette covered a cheek with a hand, suddenly timid. With Adrien, it was like a pendulum between her shyness and her self-confidence; she wasn’t insecure because she thought poorly of herself, but rather, she felt humbled by the attention he gave her.

“Thanks. That… means a lot. It’s supposed to be a peony, but it ended up looking more like a rose.” She glanced down, tracing a line down the needlework she had worked a long time on, sort of frustrated with the end result. It had been a project she created during the winter months, a daydream of what Summer could bring. Marinette had never imagined it could be this good.

When she managed a glance up at him, he was impossibly close. Their noses almost touched, but he kept his eyes on hers.

A whisper. “It’s lovely, Mari. Really suits you.”

Marinette felt a timorous smile spread on her face, and she nodded, not sure what else to say.

She turned her face to his, this time letting their noses touch. His warmth was practically spreading through to her, his cheeks ablaze with a lustful color. In truth, Marinette had to imagine her’s looked much the same, and her flush only deepened when she tasted a tiny inhale of his cologne.

Hesitant, Marinette fluttered her eyes closed and leaned forward, seeking the soft reprieve of a kiss. She wanted to be the one to initiate it this time, wishing she had the sort of brash confidence he had the times before, but to her it still felt so new that there was still need of an invitation. A silent request, a nervous but passionate interest, to be reciprocated by him.

Adrien released a tiny sigh, a sound of pure happiness, and it spurred her to erase the distance and seek his lips with a confused mix of delicacy and urgency. When she found them, they were forgiving and the sensation of honey running over her mouth clouded her mind. She tried to keep a focus, count off the ingredients to her favorite cookie recipe, picture her disheveled clipboard at the shop, remind herself of the thrill of capturing an akuma, but the pressure of him so close zapped it all from her memory. It was just him, and his taste, and the wonderful smell of him flooding her senses.

A small part of Marinette’s mind wanted to deepen the kiss - okay, maybe more than a small part. A very loud, very clear part of her brain was demanding to understand his tongue by way of interrogation, to push herself against his impossibly toned torso, to indulge in every fantasy she’d dreamed up over the past three years. Pining was hard, and now that she’d taken the first step into the swirling emerald pool, it was like trying to force the rain to stop during a thunderstorm, or to resist the sunrise at dawn.

She deserved this, right?

She waited long enough, and some forces of nature simply cannot be stopped.

A languid, almost inaudible gasp fell from him when Marinette swiped her tongue against his lower lip, and the sensation of their breathing mingling together made her hairs stand on end.

Who needed food? Marinette would gladly sustain herself on nothing but his lips for the rest of her life if given the choice.

Adrien brushed some of the hair from her shoulder, moving his hand to her jawline, holding her carefully while she explored his neck with her fingers, crawling her hands up to his hair and digging into the soft blond waves. While the wanton sensation was intense, Marinette lavished every moment, even the most subtle ones. A tiny dance of his lashes across her cheek, the clumsy, inexperienced knocking of their teeth, the soft brush of fabric each time they moved on the couch. She would never forget the quiet hilarity of the Mario Party victory music playing in the background as Princess Peach was showered with confetti.

After perhaps a full minute, Adrien finally pulled away, and Marinette nearly groaned in protest but managed to punch down the urge. This was only their second date and she was hardly able to control herself, so with a quick internal beratement, the girl found her forgotten strength of will tossed aside with her shoes.

“Um,” she said after they stared at each other for several seconds, quietly gasping for breath as her heart thumped madly against his ribcage. Her skin felt hot and sensitive from the suddenly intimate moment. “I… er, you want to keep playing?”

“Hmm?” Adrien replied, blinking a few times and following her gaze to the television. “Oh. Right. Uh… let’s see what time it is…”

The blond reached for his cell phone and laughed abruptly, so Marinette leaned over curiously. She could see Alya’s name on the screen, and it was about to turn 10.

“It’s later than I thought,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Oh, my phone has been in my bag all night…” She murmured as he flicked through the messages, adjusting the screen so Marinette could read along with him in the group chat.

 Nino (7:31 PM):

Now remember kids, your mother and I are trusting you to spend the evening responsibly. Don’t do anything Father Nino wouldn’t do!

 Alya (7:33 PM):

That’s not really setting a great precedent, considering…. You know what? Nvm.

 Laughing, Marinette covered her face with a hand. “Oh my god, they’re the worst.”

“They really are,” Adrien agreed, continuing to scroll.

 Nino (7:40 PM):

Okay but really now I’m having second thoughts. Double-dates would be nice and all, but what about bro time? Who is going to keep me company while I play pokemon go???

 Alya (7:42 PM):

because people actually still play that. Keep up with the times why don’t cha.

 Nino (7:43 PM):

For your information, Adrien does - tell her, dude!

 “It’s true,” he nodded gravely. “Although not as much compared to when it first came out. Nino keeps me going when he finds a good catch somewhere in town.”

“God, you’re lame,” Marinette commented. He laughed and continued to read.

 Alya (7:56 PM):

Looks like your “bro” has vanished into the arms of a sexy young female. Sorry babe.

 Flushing, Marinette shielded her eyes.  “Oh my god, I can’t stand her sometimes!”

Adrien nudged her with his hip on the couch. “I can’t say she’s wrong…”

“Adrien!” She squeaked, blushing even harder.

 Nino (8:01 PM):

Why must I suffer for you to be happy?

 Alya (8:02 PM):

Are you talking to me or Adrien?

 Nino (8:02 PM):

I’m actually talking to Nette, TYVM. gosh not everything is about you

 Alya (8:04 PM):

k

 Nino (8:06 PM):

I’VE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE

 Absently, Marinette’s hand went to her throat while they continued to read through Nino’s angst, tracing the places he had touched her like they had been licked by flames. Much the same, the tips of her fingers burned, thinking of how warm and soft he felt in her grasp had been. She risked a glance at him while he penned a response, wondering what he would do if she repeated the action, or if he felt the same tingle beneath his skin when she touched him.

“Poor Nino,” he frowned. “You might want to back me up on this to appease the both of them.”

Brows raised, that dark-hair girl stood and sought her phone in her purse, set down on Adrien’s desk, but froze.

Tikki was gone.

“Mmp!” Marinette squeaked, digging around frantically. “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she pulled out everything, horrified at the thought of her kwami disappearing. What if something terrible happened? This wasn’t like the shop or her room, where her red companion could hide but reappear easily. This was Adrien’s house, and who knows where she could be.

“Marinette? What’s going on?” A blond head of hair stood, looking concerned. “Did you lose your phone?”

“What?” She shook her head, forgetting herself. “Oh - oh! N-no… hah. No no… Just… thought I did. It’s here. I’m sure glad I didn’t lose it though!” Marinette was almost shouting, and she cringed.

Adrien moved closer, looking at her carefully. “Are you sure you’re okay? The car isn’t going to be ready until 10:15, but if you’d like to go home early...”

“No! I- I mean, n-no. I think, um, the food isn’t settling in my stomach well. Excuse me…” She averted his eyes, scurrying off to the bathroom with a very real pit in her stomach. If her kwami had been near enough, she only prayed that she’d be followed into the bathroom by a flash of red.

Inadvertently, she stepped through the door and caught sight of her appearance, and she was a little surprised. Her skirt and blouse had remained neat and pressed, but the half-pinned back locks that framed her face were a lost cause. The tickle war had done her in, and she quickly began to unpin her hair, trying to keep herself from shouting for Tikki at the top of her lungs.

By the time she completed taking her hair down and brushing it out with her fingers, Marinette nearly shrieked when her kwami appeared through the ceiling.

“G-g-ah…” Again, the girl clutched her heart, too overcome with relief to bother with much else than a swift hug of her kwami against her cheek.

Quietly, Marinette whispered, “Oh my god, Tikki. Don’t scare me like that! Where were you?!”

“Oh, you know… around?” A red face scrunched up at her, and Marinette felt her lips grow thinner.

“Around? Just around in Adrien’s house? What if someone saw you!? What if I left and you weren’t back!”

“Shh, Marinette, it’s okay.” Tikki looked apologetic, and touched a paw to her lips as her voice began to grow in volume. “Take a deep breath, and I promise, you don’t need to worry. I… thought I saw a little pest, but it turned out to be nothing. I was only gone a moment, and an inopportune one at that. I’m very sorry.”

Unprecedented tears started to well in her eyes, but she gave Tikki another loving squeeze against her cheek. “I’m… I’m just glad you’re okay. I got really freaked out!”

“Don’t worry! It’s all fine now. Just go ahead and finish your date. If you can distract Adrien, I’ll fly back to your purse immediately. Okay?”

Gulping down courage she didn’t have, Marinette nodded once. “Okay.”

With a quick light tap-tap against both of her cheeks, shaking the nerves from her bones, Marinette grasped the handle and re-entered Adrien’s room.

It took her a moment to spot him, a ninety-degree angle from the bathroom, standing in the corner at the windowsill, and he turned at the sound of the door opening.

“Hey, are you feeling better?” Adrien said with a small, concerned smile. Marinette nodded shyly and approached when he gestured for her to come nearer.

“Oh!” She breathed when he stepped aside slightly. “The hydrangeas. They look beautiful.”

And so they did. Smoky darkness framed them from the evening beyond, the moon providing a perfect soft source of illumination to their amaranthine petals. This pair in particular had been some of her favorites of all the ones she grew, loving how full and round the bulbs had come with the spring yield. In full bloom, she couldn’t have imagined a better choice to represent her feelings for him.

“Yes. Beautiful.”

The tone he used struck her as odd, and when Marinette looked over at him, her knees nearly gave way. Intense and curious, Adrien’s gaze studied her with an admiring sort of security.

The pop of green seemed deeply happy, while stirring with the mystery and mischief of his goofy and kind-hearted side, and it filled her with an ache of love so intense she felt the words of sweet confession start to form on her tongue. Thankfully, there was no air in her lungs to support to syllables, so they died as they inched up her vocal chords.

Three years of unrequited, or, at least, misunderstood feelings, clamped down hard on her heart bitterly, and yet, Marinette knew she would do it again. Every lifetime, if she had to. Again and again. She would have waited forever for him to look at her like that, and three years had been long, and slow, but in the gentle curve that tempered his eyes when he smiled at her, because of her, she knew it had made each second worth it.

He broke her stupor, gesturing below her chin. “Why did you choose the peony?”

“The… peony…? Oh. Right.” She traced the outline of the flower, feeling a tint of pink stain her cheeks. “I actually picked it… well because of you. I made it in the winter, but I-I’ve… I really liked you, Adrien. For a long time. Years. Since the day you gave me that umbrella, actually.” Marinette squeezed an arm across her chest, unable to stop the sudden avowal from spilling off her tongue. “Peonies are supposed to be a mark of good luck, and when I made this, I hoped one day… well, maybe we’d be here. Together? I guess it worked?” She chuckled from embarrassment, averting her eyes.

Adrien didn’t say anything, and she grew increasingly nervous. “T-there’s legends and stuff! Some people say it’s from a Greek legend about medicine, and another about a nymph… both end with someone getting turned into a peony though, to protect them and to embody their spirits. And, nowadays, you know, a bush of peonies that thrives is supposed to be a sign of good fortune! And - and, um, i-if your peonies wither and don’t survive through summer, it’s a sign of bad tidings. Unlucky. Unlucky.”

Too bad it’s impossible to throttle yourself, Marinette thought as her brain continued to fill an anxious silence with even more anxious words. She shouldn’t have admitted how long she wanted this - it made her seem desperate, didn’t it? A clingy, useless thing, like ivy, latching to life and refusing to let go.

“Annnnnd, you know, I figured since I sew, I could make my own peony. Avoid the risk of growing them. One that would never wither. A chance for luck. ‘A Needlepoint Peony’, get it? If it’s big and bold, and never fades, it could let me be happy, right? Even though I’m not superstitious - how stupid! What am I saying? What was the question?”

Marinette forcibly covered her mouth with a hand, trying to stop the verbal flood.

Brow furrowed, the blond simply stared at her in mute silence. What was he thinking? That was too much. This was all too much, wasn’t it?

Marinette shivered when he touched her cheek.

“Marinette... ” He started to speak, but she thought a flicker of frustration colored his tone. Instead, Adrien pulled her closer and ghosted his lips over hers - the gesture was much more delicate this time. A bee buzzing over a flower, the rush of feeling was almost enough to make her cry at how long she’d wanted this, how happy she was to be here, to show him and shower him in the love she had to give. Instead, their lips pulled apart, and sweet emotion tickled her throat with the taste of sunshine and spearmint.

“I’m sorry you waited so long. I’m - I’m so glad you did. But I don’t think it’s the peony; it’s just you.” He laughed a bit at her dazed expression, squishing their foreheads together. “It’s you. Lucky. Pretty. Smart. I’m just stupid for not noticing sooner.”

Leaning away, Adrien stood up slightly and pressed a gentle kiss into her forehead.

“Thank you for giving me a chance.”

A rapt knocking broke them out of the moment, and Nathalie spoke through the door. “Adrien. The car is prepared for Marinette.”

The pair blinked a few times, words processing a little slower as reality returned from their private moment. After a slow breath, Adrien smiled.

“Let’s get you home.”

Marinette could only nod and let herself be led from his house, grabbing her purse and floating down the stairs. She was unable to do more than share a few warm glances with him when they sat down in the car.

Marinette felt so happy that it actually hurt when the door shut, like finishing the chapter of a great story; why did it have to end? Anything she could do to savor the last moments before they said good night were worth it, and when they settled in the backseat, she eagerly took his hand.

“We should do something this weekend.” She stated, failing to sound casual with the pitchy tone of her voice. Adrien didn’t seem to mind.

“I’d love that - oh! That reminds me!” He blinked a few times, little green twinkles in the dark interior as they rolled past darkened Parisian streets. “I actually - well, it’s a long story. Basically, I got my schedule messed up, and I realized I can go the reception on Saturday. The one for the museums, for Le Nuit. Go with me, please?”

Marinette balked, staring at him. Was he serious?

“...What? But, we’d… well, you know,” she cleared her throat, aware of the two adults occupying the front seat. “People would see us together. Are you sure? Maybe you should talk to your Dad… And isn’t at Le Grande Paris? Chloe’s not exactly my ‘BFF,’ you know.”

The blond leaned over the center console, voice low. The whisper in her ear sent a current of electricity down her spine. “I’ll talk to my Dad if it’ll make you feel better, but I want to go out with you. I want people to know. I want everyone to know.” Drawing back, Marinette released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

He repeated his earlier invitation. “Please, go with me?”

“I- O-of course. Of course I’ll go.” She beamed, wondering when her alarm for school was going to wake her from this amazing dream; there’s no way it was real. Any minute now, she guessed.

The minutes passed, and no alarm interrupted them. They pulled up to the bakery, and Marinette scoffed irritably. Her parents were framed in the doorway, waving at them in the car.

“The welcoming committee is here this time,” she pointed out, and Adrien laughed as he sprang from the car, racing to get her door.

As she rolled her eyes, he quipped, “Rye is that a problem?

Marinette decided to ignore that. “Thank you, Madam Sancoeur. And, um, Monsieur... Driver.”

“Bonsoir, Marinette,” Nathalie answered as Adrien shut the door.

Marinette tried to seem perfectly grumpy as they approached, which wasn’t entirely difficult when Adrien made another joke, urging her to “crumb on.”

“Hi, Maman, Papa,” Marinette said as she pushed open the door to the bakery, and the Dupain-Cheng’s stood with bouncing heels and excited smiles, spotting Adrien’s hand on her lower back.

“Good evening, Madam Cheng, Monsieur Dupain,” Adrien greeted formally, bowing slightly. The movement was interrupted when her father captured them both in a hug, strong enough to lift them both from the ground. Maman barely managed to not get caught in the flurry.

“There’s my girl! And so happy to see you, son,” her father beamed at Adrien when they both were returned to solid ground.

Her mother grasped her husband’s arm, leaning into him dreamily. “Look at the happy couple! You both look so cute together. And about time, too!”

Red crept Marinette’s neck, burying her freckles in a fury of distress. “Maman! Stop it!”

Adrien chuckled and smirked and her chagrin, and she thought about forcing him out the door.

“I can’t stand you - all of you!” Marinette groaned, putting her face in her hands.

“Now now, sweetie,” her father consoled her with a less crushing embrace. “Your mother and I are just excited for you and Adrien. All we wanted for you is a sweet, nice gentleman, and you found him. Can you blame us?”

Clearing his throat, Adrien sounded a little off. “W-well, thank you, Monsieur Dupain. That’s such a nice thing to say. I’m really happy you’re so accepting of me.”

Marinette peeked at the boy from comforting spot against her Papa’s chest, eyeing her mother suspiciously as the woman took his hand and patted it with her other. “You’re a sweet boy, and we trust you. Please, come over anytime for dinner or to a… what do the kids say, ‘Netflix binge?’ That.”

Marinette considered drowning herself with the gardening hose tomorrow when she got to work.

“Maman, you can’t say things like that! There’s a-a-a connotation to that, and it’s inappropriate! Adrien, I’m so sorry!”

The woman was unphased, merely shrugging. “Adrien, thank you for making sure Marinette got home safely. You take care, and if you ever want to stop in, we’re always happy to have you.”

“Our little girl’s first boyfriend!” Her father sighed, squeezing a struggling Marinette into him. His large stomach was making it impossible to breathe, and when she finally resurfaced, some of her hair got squashed into her mouth.

“Pff -” she said, spitting it out and untangling herself from her parents, pushing them towards the back of the store.

“Okay, thanks, bye!”

Marinette could barely look him in the eye. “I am so sorry about that. Please ignore them.”

“It’s okay,” Adrien reassured her, walking across the store to meet her. She peeked up at him and he was smiling, his halo of blonde hair almost making him look angelic. “I thought it was sweet. Your parents are always so nice.”

“Nice is one word for it…” she grumbled, crossing her arms.

Adrien laughed and shook his head, wrapping the petulant girl in his arms. “I had a great time tonight,” he whispered.

Marinette gulped, and dropped her arms from their childish pouting position. She wrapped them around his middle, nuzzling softly into his shoulder.

“I did, too…” biting her lip, she confessed a burning question. “We’ll see each other Saturday, but… maybe we could try sooner? I-I really like spending time with you.”

Pulling apart, his features lit up, brilliant and pure. “Absolutely. I’ll figure out my schedule and we can do something. Even if it’s just spending time at the flower shop - I guess I’m not such a bad employee after all!”

“Don’t get too big for your loafers, Buster Brown,” Marinette warned, putting a hand at her hip. Instead of a silly response, Adrien peeled with sudden laughter.

“That was a fantastic pun, Mari. Well done.”

Squinting, she had to process his meaning.

Don’t get too big for your loaf-ers, Buster Brown.

Rubbing her temples, Marinette’s voice was sour. “This is how I die. A slow, subtle descent to madness.”

Adrien kissed her forehead once again and the bitterness fell right off of her.

Quick and sweet, his presence was so close, everywhere in her senses, and he murmured to her softly. “Good night, Mari. I’ll see you soon.”

“I- o-okay. T-thanks again for... tonight. For everything.” She stuttered through a response, feeling like the wind had just been knocked out of her. Adrien swiftly disappeared into the night, and Marinette, thoroughly dazed, listened to the bell at the door, his dismissal, fade away into a quiet peace.

   Bonus Scene:

 “This way, come on,” Plagg phased through the ceiling wall, and Tikki was about ready to throttle him.

She shot a quick whisper at him when she caught up, breathing in the scent of fresh air.

“Where are we going, Plagg?”

They had been floating around all evening, mostly in the upper corners of Adrien’s room, and Plagg seemed not at all himself. The kwami’s tail twitched occasionally, he smiled too frequently, and Tikki suspected he was up to something.

“Almost there. Just be patient – geez. Drama queen.”

Inhaling sharply, Tikki’s antenna twitched. “What did you just say to me?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing at all!” Plagg’s eyes went wide and he phased through yet another wall, much to her dismay. They had only gone up a floor and through one room, but she hadn’t been able to warn Marinette of her departure, and that made her nervous.

“We had all night – why would you wait until the last fifteen minutes before Marinette has to go home to… Plagg, are you even listening to me?”

The kwami’s ear’s twitched a few feet in front of her, and he turned midair. Tikki quietly noted their surroundings; it seemed like an old music room, and the air was musty with dust. Dark particles flew around them, oddly pretty under the streaming light of the lunar light from the tall windows. It was like floating in an ocean of dark stars, and the look of apology Plagg gave her made her blush.

“I-I’m sorry, Tikki. I had a surprise for you, but I kept getting nervous and backing out of it! But, ugh, I hate this stupid emotional crap. We’ll make it quick, just, cm’here…” He grumbled the last part over his shoulder. Taken aback, Tikki blinked and sneezed at some dust, but sped across the room to catch up with him.

Plagg sat on a rather modest-looking box in the corner of the room, set squarely in the center of an extravagant dresser. The dark wood reflected some white-blue illumination from the windows, and it cast the black cat in an oddly somber light.

Gentler than before, Tikki lowered herself next to him. “What is this place?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he answered slowly, rubbing a paw along the box. “I think it was important to Adrien’s mom, cause her name is written all over this stuff. Pianos and violins and junk, though it’s all terribly out of tune.”

“Like you’d know how to carry a tune,” she nudged him. “I’ve heard your singing.”

“I happen to be a fantastic singer, thank you,” he grinned. “Ask Adrien. I sang him a ballad about camembert once, and even he said it was fantastic.”

The red kwami giggled, “Suuuuure.”

They sat for a moment in silence, and Tikki admired the room. It was probably the size of Adrien’s ground-floor, wide with tall ceilings. Most of the services were covered in sheets, probably to keep the dust off, and it made her a little sad to think about.

Abruptly, she sneezed with the swishing of Plagg’s tail kicking up some of the dust.

“It’s pretty in here,” she remarked as she shook the dust from her head. “But it’s sort of making me feel sick. Should we go back?”

A tiny tint of green peeked up through his whiskers, and Tikki blinked. “What?”

“There’s one more thing – okay? Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” she answered honestly, a little amused by his behavior.

He took a deep breath and floated up, gesturing for her to follow. Plagg then carefully creaked open the lid of the box, and a gentle little music began to play. Perhaps a piano, crisp little notes of a sweet melody rang out in the silent room, and a ballerina danced inside the box.

“A music box?” Tikki questioned, scowling down at the display in confusion. When she looked up, Plagg was smoothing out his whiskers, and he cleared his throat.

“Sure, whatever. It plays, and I can’t figure out anything else in this room. So are you going to dance with me, or not?”

Scarlet rushed to her already crimson cheeks, and Tikki’s blue eyes grew even wider. “Dance?”

“Dance.” He repeated, floating up to her and taking her paws in his. His over-confident voice deceived his drawn brow, the frown of his lips.

The best she could do was smile warmly and resist the urge to sneeze, floating a bit closer.

It wasn’t like the sort of tangos or slow dances humans entertained, complicated by steps and disproportionate bodies. They just held hands, paw to paw, and twirled in the dusty sea, dark twinkles sparkling around them in a soft light of night.

The balance had never been so secure.

[frejahertziswritingthistime]

An education  Chapter 14

A/N: AH I’M SO HAPPY WITH YOUR COMMENTS ON THE LAST CHAPTER! I loved writing it, and I spent literal hours doing research, so it means so much! A quick disclaimer: I’ve read a lot of stuff about Norse mythology, and I know a bunch of my own, but I had to take a few liberties to fit the story and the myths together; just a brief reminder, that not all I write in canon within the myths and lore.

I just want to give huge thanks and a big, virtual hug to @redeyedvixen, for being an absolutely perfect and wonderful person, and to @shay-gen, for being the sweetest sweetheart I’ve ever met. You guys are golden!

I’ve spent a lot of hours doing this story, with research, lore and myths, so any and all feedback is very much appreciated!

Remember, I always say yes to requests, and feedback feeds the writer!

MASTERLIST

An education Masterlist

Warnings: Language, implied smut

Chapter 14 Understanding pt. 2

 October

 The boys ran into the war-room, guns already drawn; I guess the tone of my voice had given away, that something wasn’t as it was supposed to be, and they had assumed the worst. Sam had stilled the moment he laid eyes on the goddess, gun pointed straight at her face, and a weird look on his face – Dean, on the other hand, had spotted her spear before her, and he had almost flung himself at her to protect me; I had managed to stop him (with impressive power, I might add) and sit him down in a chair.

He was huffing and puffing, his eyes shooting daggers at the goddess in front of him; he certainly wasn’t affected by her looks, but Sam was – he was still in the door, the gun trained on her face in his outstretched hand (which had started to shake), and his mouth was open. I sighed and rolled my eyes, before I got up from my chair, grabbed his arm and led his tall frame to the table, and down in a chair on the opposite side of Freyja. She sat at the end of the table, me and Dean on her left and Sam on her right; we looked like a bizarre gathering for trick-and-treaters. I decided to break the silence.  

“Guys, meet Freyja.” Dean grunted in acknowledgment, but didn’t say anything further. I rolled my eyes at him and smacked his knee. He was being a rude dick-bag, and he knew it, because he looked me in the eyes with a seriously, Y/N? look radiating from his body, before he plastered a fake smile on his face and grumbled something resembling a hello. Sam was still staring at her with wide eyes, and I kicked his shin under the table. He winced in pain, but finally opened his mouth. “You’re so pretty.” His hand flew instantly to his mouth in horror, and I groaned – of fucking course, Sam goddamn Winchester, the man who can’t be moved by hot females in his vicinity, would be awestruck by the goddess. She smiled sweetly at him and her eyes flickered to Dean, who had put a hand protectively on my shoulder, as if he was ready to lead me out of the room in a flash, if things went south. She turned back to Sam, her eyes twinkling. “And you are the truest specimen of a perfect warrior, Sam Winchester.” Dean growled under his breath, and she turned to him, a smile still on her face. “Hush, child, I am not here to hurt any of you. You can relax. Don’t you think she would have tried her best to send me back to Fólkvangr, if I had any intention of hurting you?” She said with a slight nod to me. Dean relaxed a bit, slumping slightly back into his chair. “Although, I must admit, your brother is positively mouthwatering.” She said – and she winked at Sam, who blushed furiously.   “Then why the hell are you here?” She looked at me expectantly. And so, I retold everything she had told me, and what I knew from my research to Dean – his eyes were huge, as I told him what I knew, and Sam had been pulled away from staring at Freyja, to actually try to keep track of the conversation. “So, that’s that. I mean, at least I know why I am Valkyrie, but not really the reasoning behind it.” I turned to Freyja, who was eying Sam with a great interest. I rolled my eyes – one thing is Sam being enamored with her, but her being enamored with Sam? That was too much. “So, why did you exactly? Turn me into a Valkyrie?” I asked. Freyja cocked her head slightly to the side and her gaze fell on Dean. “You are a perfect bond, you know. I have never met anyone as fiercely protective of their warrior as you are, Dean Winchester.” She said with a sense of wonder. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What does that mean?” She smiled. “Not to worry, dear. I am simply stating, that you and Y/N will follow each other in every battle, every win and loss. One day, you will follow her to my valley of Fólkvangr., and it will be a wonderful sight to behold.” I blushed slightly at her words – I loved Dean with every fiber of my being, but it sounded so cheesy when she put it look that. “Fuck yes, I will.” He simply said and kissed my shoulder. “Stop diverting the question.” He grumbled.

Freyja sighed and stood up, dragging the hard wood of her spear against the floors, her hips swaying slightly as she moved slowly around the war-room. Her hair shone brighter that before. “I believe you are all familiar with my... With Loki, correct?” Her lips were a tight line, and I furrowed my brows. “Uhm… Sorry, not much. We know some, but... We thought the Norse gods kept to themselves, of they even existed.” I said apologetically. She smiled sweetly at me, and walked past Sam, dragging a perfectly manicured finger over his shoulder and neck, before stopping. “Loki is… Problematic, to say.” She sighed and hurt flashed across her face for a brief second, before she kept telling her story. “He is a Jötunn, which is essentially the gods’ mortal enemies. He was fostered by Odin, and he was raised without the knowledge of his true inheritance. He found out, and a lot of his power derives from his hatred of himself, but that isn’t what matters.” She sighed again, her small hand resting gently on Sam’s shoulder – he looked stricken, and I could see how hard he tried not to move. I briefly wondered if she smelled different to all of us, reminding us of your favorite seasons or memories. She smiled sadly at me. “Loki is a trickster. Not like the one, you have dealt with, the Angel pretending to be something he was not, but the true trickster. He loves to wreak havoc at every opportunity he sees, and he has cause a wide array of disasters on earth.” She glanced at Dean, who was still protectively leaning halfway over me. “What does this have to do with anything?” He growled angrily. “Everything.” She sighed and sat down on the chair next to Sam, looking defeated and small despite her empowering stature. “I love. I love humanity, men, women, deities and anything in between, as you must know. I am the goddess of love, after all.” She smiled, and a light lit up in her eyes for a brief second. “I loved Loki. All of the gods agreed it was best to just… Be. When the world forgot about us and made us to be myths and legends and tall tales, told around a campfire or in movies, we decided to fade. We can live perfectly in Asgard, and just look at things from above. Sometimes help a little, if the world goes to black, but other than that, we didn’t mind fading out. Everything ends. Loki thought differently. He was angered by the humans, by Midgard forgetting us so easily, and he wanted to remind them, that he had the power to turn the world around. I made him think differently.” She sighed deeply. “I did really love Loki, for a while. We… We were lovers. He worshipped the ground beneath my feet, but I am a being of many lusts and loves, so I moved towards Heimdahl, when he declared himself for me, baring his soul. I couldn’t say no to that.” She looked a little smug, but I furrowed my brows; Jesus Christ, she really did live up to her name. “Loki could not accept the truth. He would accept my love for Heimdahl, and his anger boiled over into rage. He almost had his… Mutt.” Her eyes shot lightnings. “chase me for a while, but he decided that he needed something better.”

She stood up abruptly and paced the floor, throwing her hands up – the spear dangerously close to the lamp, and she sobbed lightly. “He wanted revenge, can you believe it? I am with him for three centuries, and he thinks he can just…” She sighed deeply and collected herself. “He wanted revenge. Not just on me, but humanity for forgetting him. For forgetting all of us. He knows my love for Midgard, and your love and unabridged love-affairs, so he did the worst thing I could think of.” I caught her eye, and I knew where this would lead – a memory of a page I couldn’t translate, written in runes and seals, that had been long lost. “He opened the box, didn’t he?” I whispered. Freyja looked at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and nodded. Dean looked confused. “What box?” I sighed and turned to him; Sam had been lost to Freyja, as he tried to comfort her gently, his big hands patting her back, while she whimpered and cried. “Solomon’s box, Dean. The demon-box. If I’m not wrong, he probably created it, didn’t he?” Freyja nodded slowly. Dean shot up, his body shaking as he looked to make up his mind: run far away with me, or stay and fight, not just un-killable demons but a goddamn fucking GOD as well. “Dean. Please.” I begged him, but he didn’t sit down, he just started pacing the room. “Is that why you needed me? You can’t do it yourself, can you? You love him too much.” I asked with a shaking voice. Freyja met my eyes. “I am afraid so. I didn’t have a choice, Y/N, you must know that. But he has to be stopped. His ways will leave the earth barren, the demons can and will destroy anything they touch. Loki has not yet learned to handle anger well.” She sighed.

A whirlwind of thoughts went through my head at lightening speed. I tried to categorize every thought, but it was impossible; we had to kill a god, known for being a trickster and throwing twists and turns in every direction, for another god, because she loves him – which poses a whole new slew of problems. We had to kill him to kill the demons. We didn’t know how to kill the demons. We didn’t have… “Wait. Wait, Dean.” I grabbed his arm harshly – he winced, and I internally groaned; I still had a hard time figuring out my new-found strength. I stood up, feeling elated and like something was finally working in our favor. “The demons. We didn’t think we could kill them, but I did. I killed two of the demons at the mansion, Dean.” I put emphasis on my words, be he looked confused as ever – I heard Sam gasp behind me, and a chair scraping against the floor. “What? Come on, I feel stupid now!” He whined, as Sam pointed at me, a smile spreading on his face. “My sword. My power. Dean, I can kill them! We don’t need Berith’s rib!” I grinned at him – and finally, he understood. We weren’t going on a suicide-mission, but a war.

He swooped me into his arms, laughing as he spun me around and kissed me hungrily. “Fucking warrior queen.” He said happily. I grinned back at him, and shifted in his arms, so I could see Freyja. She stood and gazed at us, a glow in her eyes. “Will my sword kill Loki?” She smiled gently. “Nothing can kill him. But your sword can send him back to Asgard, where we will hold a trial for him. It won’t be the first time.” She said slowly. I nodded. “I see you have all you need, my warrior. You will do wonderfully, I am sure.” Freyja moved towards Sam and placed her hands around his neck. “I will return. I promise.” I didn’t know if she was promising me or Sam, but she placed a kiss on his cheek before she was gone – a slight warp in the air, where she had just been. Sam rubbed his cheek with a dazed expression, his mouth agape in shock. Dean laughed heartily at him, before turning back to me.

“What now?” He asked, his voice finally giving away to show something, I had never expected from him; he saw me as his leader. “Now? We find a god and kill him.” I grinned and leaned closer to him. “But first… I think we should have a little moment to ourselves if the world is about to end.” I whispered. I could feel his smile. “Fuck yes.”  

 CHAPTER 15

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God Loves You, Which Is Why You’ll Burn In Hell (Part 4): “The Son of the Heretic of the Highest Order” - Jay’s Experiences with Islam

Jafar has never really been a fan of religion, seeing it as another tool for controlling the masses, seizing power, and doing the all important work of keeping it.

To him, the monarchs that were instated due to religious beliefs or some form of “divine right” are no different from the warlords who take cities by force, the only difference being one rules by fear of the sword, the other rules by fear of some unknowable, incomprehensible, and omnipotent Supreme Being.

It does not help that A) he is considered a “heretic of the highest order” for his numerous incidents antagonizing, abusing, or otherwise running afoul of various religious organizations, their Fae, and their deities, and of course, his patronage of “the dark arts,” and B) he has once attempted to rise up to the power of a god, and was ultimately thwarted by a mortal and lesser magical beings.

Seeing the state religion has taken on the Isle does not help his opinion any, now seen as the exclusive domain of fanatics, or those who prefer the convent than Maleficent, or the Badlands.

“Once, those temples had worth, when Beast was foolish enough to send gold, silver, and other precious treasures inside them. Now their vaults are all picked clean of everything good, the metal is tarnished, the jewels cracked, and the tapestries ripped, and all they really have is their own delusion, and the company of imaginary ‘gods.’”

His badmouthing their faiths aside, he has had numerous incidents with the religious practitioners of the Isle, as they are more than willing to physically fight him or risk their personal safety in getting stolen goods back by force, rather than paying his exorbitant fees.

In summary, to Jafar, Religion is a bad idea, bad business, and bad for him especially, so he wants nothing to do with it.

Jay has knowledge of the Quran and Islam from Jafar’s talking to him about BGU Agrabah and how “the fools, the foolish, and the deluded” lived their lives under the former Sultan of Agrabah’s rule, but Jafar has taken great pains to discredit and attack it however he can, going from the lack of evidence with the existence of Allah, the numerous abusive and corrupt practices that have come from the misinterpretation to abuse of the words of the faithful, to claiming that all Muslims of the Isle inherently smell much worse than your average Islander.

(For extreme clarity, the above claim is Jafar’s using an ad hominem attack, and my demonstrating in “show” terms how petty he can get.)

To the young and impressionable Jay, he has always believed that Islam was some sort of divine order of magicians and mystical beings that Jafar clashed with, lost to, and never quite recovered from. The Quran is mistakenly believed as some sort of spell book, a manual to a super weapon that was still somewhat functional on the Isle, or just an object of Great, and Terrible Power like that of Jafar’s old staff.

It’s how he explains why Jafar always seems to want to get rid of copies of the Quran as quickly as possible, and heavily discourages Jay from reading or pilfering them—especially poignant because his MO is still to take anything and everything Jay can get his hands on, as it’s worth something to someone, and because it’s the most commonly found and extensive Arabic text on the Isle.

When Mal goes on her adventure learning all about religion, Jay finally gets to reading it, and is as disappointed as her when it turns out that the Quaran is much less exciting, violent, and full of “driving demons into a whole herd of pigs then sending them straight off a cliff, guys getting tortured and humiliated by entire cities before being nailed on crosses, and one old man drowning entire armies without touching any of them.”

Mal is especially displeased with the fact that all of the stories and accounts of Muhammad are him being an exceptionally nice guy, and even the fact that he married so many women can’t spare the fact that a lot of his wives went on to do even MORE good work.

“Mom was right, this IS just a bunch of stupid stories to trick people into being Good,” Mal said somewhere in the middle of the hadiths.

Jay agreed, “but you gotta admit, this is a pretty sweet operation they’ve got going for them, getting all of these people to just do whatever someone said Allah, Yahweh, or whatever-the-fuck they call Him wants them to do.

“Maybe the power isn’t the books, but it’s in how they use it, kind of like a spellbook.”

“Okay, one, I’m surprised that you’re actually taking an intellectual curiosity to something that isn’t something you can steal, and two, if this means you want to go ask those crazies over in Temple Way, count me out.

“Even the people that live there say to stay the fuck away from Temple Way.”

Jay shrugged. “Suit yourself, I’m going and learning me some secrets.”

So Jay bundles up the copy of the Quran he and Mal acquired through a dubious, long chain of thieves and fences, and heads to Temple Way.

He travels to the Islamic Mosque, situated right next to Frollo’s church and the Jewish Synagogue in a triangle, all centered around a fountain that was supposed to symbolize the same God they all worship, and be the source of potable water for them all.

It might have have been beautiful and full of life once, but now, all there is is long crumbling and cracked stone, dust and detritus, and overgrown weeds and moss crawling all over where water should have been.

The faithful and their non-believing allies are generally very quick to be distrustful and wary of any newcomers, but the Muslims of the Isle being mostly comprised of nomadic tribes, criminals exiled from the safety of Agrabah’s walls, and former members of the galloping hordes of raiders therein, they are especially fast to draw their swords and sneers.

On this particular day, the guards waiting at the doors are lead by their leader, a particularly fierce ex-raider named Kyda. She is one of the few people on the Isle that give Maleficent and her hulking goons pause, large and muscular like the latter, but clever and charismatic like the former, a dangerous combination if there ever was one.

Her eyes narrow as Jay nears, her sand-battered lips curling into a scowl, her intimidating aura amplified by her head, bald and badly scarred from when it was recklessly shorn off.

Jay raised his hands, the Quran securely wrapped in cloth and his fingers. “Warm welcome you guys give to visitors, huh?” he joked.

Kyda is not impressed. “Forgive us, Jay; your father beside, your reputation precedes you, and we have very good reason to believe letting you in to our sacred temple will be to our detriment.”

“What if I offer you guys a peace offering?” Jay said, holding up the Quran. “Something to show that I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Kyda snorts. “I doubt you can offer us anything of value, and more so, I have reason to suspect that you had pilfered it from we the faithful beforehand.”

“I didn’t!” Jay said. “At least, not directly. I got it from a gal who knew a guy who knew a gal, alright?”

Kyda sighed. “Fine, though I can’t tell if you are being honest, I can tell that you are determined. Lay down your offering at your feet, and open it—whatever it is, I want it far away from us.”

“Geeze, it’s not a bomb, you guys!” Jay said as he obeyed.

“We’d rather not risk it again,” Kyda replies flatly.

He unwraps it, and shows off the Quran. It’s a well-worn copy, old and ravaged by the conditions of the Isle, and badly handled by the numerous hands that had brought it to Mal and Jay, but it was obviously loved and cared for by whoever owned it first.

Kyda’s eyes widen, as do the other guards. “Please, give me that Quran, and very carefully.”

Jay instinctively picked it up and brought it close to his chest. “Does this mean I get to go inside?”

“Yes, but do not take that to mean that we won’t throw you out just as quickly if you cause trouble,” Kyda replies. “Don’t think this place like the rest of the Isle, Jay, we will not sell out our fellows for personal profit.”

Jay doubted that, but he figured it best not to erase the goodwill he’d just bought himself. The Quran is traded, upon which Kyda carefully slips it into her bag, while the guards flanking her open the heavy doors.

“Go,” Kyda said, waving her rusted sword inwards. “And please, take your shoes off, we don’t need you tracking grime all over our floors.”

“I will, but I gotta warn you, my feet aren’t that much better,” Jay said as he walked up.

“Just do it,” Kyda growled.

Jay does, and in he walked to the heart of the Isle’s only mosque.

For the wrath of the elements, and all the many uses it had beside a place of worship, the building had lost a lot of its former glory: the elaborate patterns and tiles on the floor and the walls were cracked or missing, hodgepodge divider walls and scaffolding was spread all around to help expand the available space, and even the grand dome that crowned the structure had several holes in it.

The biggest let what little sun the Isle had through, shining weakly on carefully guarded and sickly-looking crops, tarpaulins protecting them from the worst of the elements and gathering moisture for drinking and a crude form of irrigation.

The residents all stared at him, some of them wary like Kyda, others confused, a scant few welcoming; those that weren’t busy with various chores to keep the whole place from falling apart any more than it had were lounging about on tattered carpets, ripped up cushions, or old, damaged animal skins and furs that Cruella would not be caught dead wearing.

Many of them were Arabians like him, skin baked dark by the sun, hair black as night, the hardy and determined folks that could not only live, but thrive in the desert.

“Good day to you, Jay!” said a female voice, much softer and kinder than Kyda’s rough grunts and snarls.

Jay turned to her and found a woman coming over to him with a big, bright smile on her face. She had an Islander’s features, back when the word meant someone who lived and died on a floating patch of land in the middle of the sea, not this rotting prison.

She came just before him, clasped her hands together, and bowed; Jay couldn’t help but notice that unlike Kyda outside, her head was wrapped up in a moth-eaten and filthy shawl. “My name is Mhira, I help run this temple along Kyda. May I ask what brings you here?”

Jay smirked. “Is it really that surprising that I’d show up at your place?”

“I meant that in a general sense, but yes, considering who your father is, we are very curious to know why you’re here.”

“The Quran,” Jay said. “I want to know more about it.”

Mhira blinked, before she grinned, her eyes lighting up. “Ah! So you wish to convert to Islam?”

Jay held his hands up. “Woah, woah, woah, there, lady, I’m not signing up for anything! I’m just here to know what it is about that book that got so many people to do what it says.”

The light leaves Mhira’s eyes, but the smile remains. “Ah. Oh well, an eager student is an eager student, especially in a land such as this—I’ll tell you all you wish to know about the Quran and Islam.” She gestures for him to follow. “Come, sit with me.”

Jay shrugged, and did so.

They entered a sectioned off area of the mosque, full of old books and scrolls, all heavily guarded and being meticulously taken care off by the inhabitants. They don’t look too happy to see Jay in that area specifically, but with a wave from Mhira they stand down, though their eyes trained more closely onto the literature than usual.

“Relax, guys,” Jay said, “I don’t steal books or scrolls, they’re a really hard sell.”

It looks like they don’t believe him, but that doesn’t concern Jay as he and Mhira sit down cross-legged on an old carpet. “Comfortable?” Mhira asked. “Normally, this would be when I’d offer you tea or something to eat, but our supplies are stretched thin yet again...”

“I’m just thirsty for knowledge,” Jay replied, rubbing his hands eagerly. “So come on, tell me: what’s up with that old book?”

Mhira sighed heavily, and smiled patiently at Jay. “The Quran is not just an ‘old book,’ it is a sacred artifact. But that will be all from me for now: please, tell me what it is you know of the us, Islam, and the Quran; it’ll be easier for the both of us if I know which parts to skip, and what myths I’ll have to dispel.”

Jay shrugged. “I don’t really know much; my dad never liked keeping any of these in the house, and go off for hours if I brought it up, so I just stopped bothering. I only read some it because Mal’s studying about all the other religions for whatever reason, and she needed me to translate from Arabic.”

Mhira chuckled. “As expected of your father. Out of curiosity, what are some of the things he’s said about Islam?”

“That it’s a ‘cult of fools and their delusional leaders, professing faith for that which doesn’t exist’ or something like that, I never really paid attention; he used a lot of big words, and changed up between Arabic and English faster than I could keep track.”

Mhira nodded. “So it looks like I’ll have to start from the beginning. I’m assuming your friend Mal has read the Christian Bible and the Jewish Torah, too?”

“We did that because they both had them in English, yeah. Why can’t we find translations for the Quran, anyway?”

“Because reading it in any language other than Arabic is inherently an inferior version of the original text. Do you look at yourself in a mirror, and say your reflection is as much a person as you gazing into its eyes?

“It is the same as with the Quran; Arabic is the language it was made with and meant to be read in, so it will be with all who wish to truly follow Islam.”

Jay shrugged. “Okay. I guess I can understand why you’d want it as close to the source as possible. So what’s ‘Islam’ all about? How’d it start? What’s the big deal about it?”

“In Arabic, Islam literally means ‘submission.’

“In the broader sense, it is the acceptance of Allah’s will, acting as Allah has told us to act, and following the example of the last prophet, Muhammad. Its history is long and great, its wonders many and miracles many and glorious, and I could go on for days telling you all about it, but I can see your eyes already glazing over and your mind wandering, so I’ll give it to you in a nutshell:

“One night, Allah decided to give the last prophet Muhammad everything Allah knew through his angel Jibril. This was all the words and teachings of every prophet before Muhummad, summarized and completed in what we now call the Quran, and we Muslims follow that.”

“So Allah gave him all of that info just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Jay nodded. “This Muhammad guy must have been like Hercules or something.”

Mhira laughed. “Oh no, far from it. Muhammad was just a man like you or I: faulty, mortal, and not at all like the so called ‘demi-gods’ from Greece.”

“So why did Allah choose him?”

Mhira shrugged. “The official answer is, because Allah chose Muhammad as the last prophet; the longer version is, Allah did it for reasons we mere mortals cannot comprehend, all we can understand is the instructions that were given to him and him alone.”

“Oh, so just like Frollo whenever someone asks him why he thinks he can say the shit he does.”

“Similar, yes, but Islam is quite different from the religion Father Frollo believes in.”

“And why’s that? Because they let women like you be the leaders?”

“Yes, but also because unlike Frollo, we the faithful do not believe anyone or anything to be divine except for Allah. Some like Muhammad may have been blessed with great knowledge beyond what we know or are capable of knowing ourselves, but to receive it does not suddenly put you on a pedestal above others.

“We are all merely instruments of Allah’s divine will; to think yourself suddenly beyond that, or worse yet, to think that you might be able to rise up to divinity like Allah is the surest path to destruction and misery, as Frollo and your father have experienced.

“This is the first Pillar of Islam: Shahada. We the faithful declare that there is only one god, Allah, and that Muhammad is Allah’s messenger.”

“So only room for one Big Guy Upstairs here?”

“Seeing as Allah is the only one who should be sitting in the metaphorical fancy leather chair behind the desk: yes!”

“But what about the Greek Pantheon, and the Fairies, and all the monsters running around? Aren’t they all mystical and divine too? Zeus may have given up his lightning bolts, but he’s still kicking and glowing in the dark, and even Hades is still pretty blue and constantly on fire.”

Mhira nodded. “We don’t deny they exist, but we do believe they are Jinn, in the general sense: demons, mystical creatures meant to lead others away, to prevent them from realizing what is truly divine, the answer being Allah and Allah alone.

“Some are more benevolent than others, yes, but last I heard, Allah wasn’t cursing kings to have babies that are half-bull in retribution for perceived insults and slights.

“Besides, Allah is omnipotent, extending far beyond what we mortals can comprehend.

“If the Greek Gods and Goddesses truly were the same as Allah, why is it that only one such copy of them exists in the realm they came from, and why don’t they exist in the Greece London had? And if they do, why had they suddenly went into hiding? And why were all this bastard land’s technological ‘miracles’ as new to Hephaestus as it was to us?”

“But Allah? In every realm Beast spoke to, you will find Islam, the faithful submitting themselves to Allah’s will, the same words in their Quran, as told to them by their respective Muhammad.”

“So wait, there’s a clone of him for each realm the states used to belong in? How does that even work...?”

Mhira reached out and touched him on the shoulder. “Take my advice: don’t think about it too much,” she says, smiling. “Allah works in ways inherently incomprehensible to us, and this ‘multiverse’ confounds even minds greater than mine, and those of the immortal jinn.

“What more of someone like you, for whom the mind was never his strongest suit? No, what you should think about is something that we were meant to understand: Islam, the ways of Muhammad, and the words of the Quran.”

Jay nodded. “Alright, so what’s next?”

“The second pillar: Salat. Here, we pray to Allah five times a day: at dawn, noon, afternoon, evening, and night, to give praise to Allah.”

“Five times a day? That’s a lot of praying.”

“It is what is necessary to maintain the strength of our faith, especially in such a hostile place like this where it is constantly tested.”

“Just sounds to me like Allah’s a lot like Evie: wants everyone fawning over her as often as they can.”

Mhira chuckled. “I can see the comparison. But in return for our faith, we receive strength and guidance from Allah. This Isle may be of the Lost, but still we praise only the truth amidst the lies and the false idols.”

She sighed and frowned. “Normally, we would turn ourselves to the direction of Mecca when we bow our heads in praise, but is no more in this bastard realm of Auradon. The people of Agrabah kind enough not to rob their true home of it, so we turn to that city, as it is the closest thing we have to it.”

“Wouldn’t that make you jealous, staring out to Auradon five times a day?”

“It does. But with Allah, and the examples of Muhammad, we let it pass, and continue on.

“And speaking of continuing, this the third pillar of Islam: Zakāt. When have satisfied our own needs, and we find ourselves with excess, we give it to those who need it, and those less fortunate than us.”

“Oh, so now they owe you, I get it.”

Mhira chuckled and shook her head. “No, no they don’t.”

Jay blinked. “Wait, what?”

“We give not in the expectation of return, we give because it is as Allah tells us too; riches and excess are not meant to be selfishly hoarded and left to rot, they are to be freely and happily given to those that need it most.”

“Excess brings only false pleasure and real suffering: look at your father, he hoards riches not rightly earned nor meant for him, having you steal them from others, and robbing them even more when they attempt to get it back.

“Does he seem happy? Is he ever truly satisfied? Or is he always waiting and hoping for some magical treasure to fall into his lap and whisk away all his troubles, unaware that the desire itself is why he is suffering so?”

Mhira paused, saw it sink in Jay’s mind.

“And are you happy, stealing and hoarding other people’s belongings whenever you can?”

Jay scowled. “Hey, it’s not my fault they don’t take such good care of their stuff!”

“And does that mean you have the right to take it, should their eyes stray for a moment? Is a crime no longer a crime if the victim made it easy to happen? Don’t answer: you don’t, and it still is.

“Everything comes from Allah, everything was meant to be shared with all Allah’s creation, and to be selfish is to go against the will of Allah, stray away from the sanctification and peace meant for you and into endless desire and suffering.”

“So why are some people stupidly rich, and others dirt poor?”

“Two reasons: one, Allah chooses to bless some people and let them experience what is good in this world, so they may inspired and driven to share that goodness with others; and two, a lot of people are selfish asshats consumed by greed and misguided principles, such as your father.

“This world is far from perfect, and even we the faithful are full of faults. The difference being, we are trying our best to become better while the rest tends to just slide further and further downwards into misery, like the Queen of the Heretics and her ilk.

“A word of advice: we do not speak her name here, lest you wish to risk being stoned; I hear that’s very unpleasant.

“Anyway, the fourth pillar is Sawm, where we fast for tradition, for repentance, and for steeling ourselves against temptation. We do it for the entire month during Ramadan, refusing food and drink during the day and only breaking it at night, provided you are strong enough to last the day without collapsing nor perishing from it.

“So you basically starve yourselves constantly?”

“Yes, but we do not do it for reasons of masochism, we do it to feel closer to Allah, remind ourselves of the powers and the might greater than that of the mortal needs and material impulses that so haunt us, and to seek forgiveness when we stray and do wrong.

“It’s one of the reasons we farm here—the food we eat was not stolen from someone else. Everyone else on this Isle forsakes this honest work, preferring to fight and gorge themselves on the scraps and the rotten leftovers of Auradon, thinking it will make them as tough and ‘nasty’ as them.”

Mhira chuckled. “Little do they know the kind of strength you will have if you fill yourself with Allah’s grace, that the rumbling of the stomach no longer seem so dire and all-consuming.”

“The fifth pillar is really more a relic for as long as we are trapped in this bastard realm with the likes of Beast and his allies playing god: Hajj. This is supposed to be the pilgrimage to the holy city of Mecca, but as I said, the people of Agrabah refused to take such the city with them as to not deprive the rest of the faithful their duty.

“It’s about one of the only good things that has come from Auradon, honestly.

“There’s many more things I can tell you about Islam, but the gist of it is that we follow and live our lives according the Five Pillars, the words of the Quran, and the example set behind by Muhammad.”

Jay nodded. “And…?”

“’And’ what, Jay?” Mhira asked.

“And, what’s the big deal?” Jay asked. “Why does my dad hate it so much? Why do you all follow it? What’s so great about Islam? Why shouldn’t I spend my time learning whatever that guy who’s always Confused said?”

“In reverse order:

“You mean Confucius, the great philosopher of the Chinese;

“Because, so many other faiths fill themselves with so much pomp and frivolity, and worse yet, they deify mere mortals like ourselves, turn that which should not be holy nor divine into an object of worship, think a man more than a man for his position, which leads us to people like Father Frollo of the Christians;

“Its greatness is numerous, but in a nutshell, Islam is simple to follow, Allah is great, and unlike some other religions, we do not elevate ourselves above our station, and we dedicate our lives in the service of others, whoever they may be;

“Many of us are faithful, but we do not reject those who do not believe and are willing to accept our charity without robbing us blind;

“Your father is a heretic of the highest order who wishes to blame others to protect his ego than accept he was wrong and misguided, to say the least; and,

“The ‘Big Deal’ is that it is Truth, Strength, and Order in a land where most everyone and everything has gone mad, a land where mortals play god and rip apart Allah’s creations to better suit his tastes, and his ‘undesirables’ are cast out, then turn on each other than the man they should blame for their predicament.”

“So no magic? No special powers? No secret superweapon, or a big monster you use to scare others?”

Mhira shook her head. “No, no, and no: it is just us mortals here in this mosque, living our days as best as we can with what Allah has given us, what Allah wants us to use as our tools.”

She smiled. “The pursuit of great power, unimaginable riches, and false gods are sirens’ songs, Jay: it tempts, it sounds unimaginably beautiful to the ear, until you dash yourself on the rocks or throw yourself into a raging sea, upon which it’d be the last thing you ever hear.

“Just ask your father how well his pursuit for ‘Phenomenal Cosmic Powers’ turned out for him, how any of these people’s malevolent, selfish, and sinful desires ultimately led them to.

“Here, we offer what they think they would get with an ill-gotten throne, incredible powers sourced from blasphemy and atrocity, riches and luxury beyond what any one could use or enjoy, even if they spent every second of the rest of their days with them:

“Satisfaction. Happiness. Peace.”

Mhira smiled warmly. “Jay, should you tire of living with and fighting with the rats of this Isle, both the creature and those people that stoop to their level, know that for as long as I am alive, you will be welcome here, to seek solace, or better yet, to join us in Islam.”

Jay frowned. “Yeah, that sounds nice and all, I don’t think I can be one of you guys… peace and silence and reading books all day really isn’t me, and I doubt I can reign in all my bad habits before you’re forced to kick me out anyway.”

“Jihad,” Mhira said.

“What?”

“Jihad, it means ‘struggle,’” she explained. “The ignorant will say it’s just warfare, and during the Great War Maleficent got it into people’s heads that it was some sort of ‘holy crusade’ where we would rampage all throughout the Isle, forcing all we find to convert or be put to the sword.

“It’s really not on both counts, and worse still, Allah expressly forbids such a brutal, merciless, aggressive campaign like that.

“No, what jihad really is our eternal struggle against enemies, be they soldiers, jinn, or our fellow humans, and especially the greater jihad within ourselves, our fight against temptation and struggle to do the right thing.

“Converting to Islam does not mean that you must miraculously become a virtuous paragon like Muhammad afterward—though that would certainly be nice. What it does mean, is that even though we humans are flawed and imperfect, you will still try your best to be the most faithful and good person you possibly can be.

“… If it helps, we make exceptions, and ignore certain transgressions, and traditions out of convenience.”

“Like what?” Jay asked.

Mhira smiled, looked around warily, before leaning towards Jay. “Can you keep a secret, Jay?”

Jay leaned in, too. “I’m listening.”

“Myself and Kyda share a bed; when the land outside is quiet, the prayers are done, and the faithful are busy or willing to grant us respite, we retreat back to our quarters and, well...” she giggled.

Jay’s eyebrows rose, before he whistled. “I’m taking a stab at the dark here, but isn’t that kind of, I don’t know… not really cool with any of the religions here? Except maybe the Pantheon and the Pagans, but they’re them.”

Mhira nodded. “It is, and they all know, but still, they let us be.” She reached out and touched Jay’s shoulder, gave him a light squeeze. “We’re all sinners here, Jay; if we didn’t do anything wrong, we would be over there on the other side of the vast sea, living in Auradon.

“The only real question here is: how heavy do you wish your wrongdoing to weigh on your shoulders?”

Jay nodded slowly. “… Thanks. I think that’s everything I needed to know...” he said as he got up.

Mhira stood up and bowed once more. “You are welcome, Jay. Please, do not hesitate to return, I am always ready to teach to those who will listen.”

Jay was about to leave, when he turned around and stopped. “Hey, I forgot to ask: why are you on the Isle? You’re way too old to have been born here like me.”

Mhira smiled. “I was a slave girl, bought by a sorcerer who lived in a secret island of his own creation. I was his personal plaything for all his most sordid and awful desires, and after I had secretly studied all of his magics and the secrets of his power, I seduced him and killed him in cold blood.

“Then, I took his staff, donned his robes, and started my misguided campaign of vengeance on the world I thought had wronged me so, starting with ‘washing up’ on the shores of a nearby island and slowly turning its inhabitants into my slaves, robbing them of their minds and free will in their sleep, as I dined, laughed, and worked with them in their waking hours.

“In hindsight, I could have gathered up all his valuables, used his enchanted boat to get to the mainland, and sold them off to live a comfortable life as a free woman.

“But I didn’t, and here we are now.”

Jay whistled. “Brutal.”

“Indeed,” Mhira said with a nod. “Would you like to stay a while and listen to all the sordid details? The enchantment I used to make things easy to remember still holds.”

“Maybe some other day,” Jay said. “I gotta go home with something good, before dad hears about me coming here.”

Mhira shrugged. “Suit yourself, Jay. And when you do return, please make your offering your time and your strength, than some stolen good; in return, we will happily compensate you in food.”

Jay smiled. “Deal.”

The Isle being a small place and almost everyone ending up at Jafar’s Junk Shop at some point, word got around quickly, and Jafar was not pleased.

“Unbelievable! Unbelievable!” Jafar yelled at the dinner table that night, a bottle of stolen, half-decent, not-entirely watered down wine in his hand. “What have I told you about those fools? The kinds of nonsense they will fill your head with? What were you even doing there?!”

Jay shrugged. “I was just trying to find out for myself, is all.”

“Oh, and do you not trust me, is that what this is all about?” Jafar barked. “Me, who clothed you, who feeds you, who gives you work and purpose—would you believe them over me, simply because they let you in their crumbling temple and talked with you for a while?!

“You know what? Don’t answer! I don’t want you to even think about what they’ve poisoned your mind with, it’ll be work enough to expel it!”

Jay keeps silent, and keeps his share of the day’s food—as always, much less than the one on Jafar’s own plate.

Usually, he would just tell himself to steal more the next day, but now, he wonders if he shouldn’t stop by Temple Way instead...

[askderynsharp]

WAIT W H A T WHY CAN'T THEY BE HAPPY IS IT NOT HAPPY DYLIT?????

((I mean Lilit’s perfectly happy…))

Deryn sighed as Alek turned back to his audience. Breathingwas becoming more natural to her, but when she thought that the back of hishead might be the last she saw of her best friend the air came hard to herlungs. At least this time it had been a proper goodbye, at least now Deryn wasgoing back to the Leviathan where shebelonged, and then later to Dr. Barlow’s service.

Too stubborn to look back, Deryn marched out onto thebalcony to cool off. Outside was cold and quiet, the humming of summer insects drowningout the humanity inside. Deryn told herself that she wasn’t out here mooning,rather just giving the Lady Boffin some space while she charmed the otherscientists. Civilians always got so touchy around legal undead, even if theywere in the process of being cured.

“Mr. Sharp?”

Deryn turned about to see a girl in a pale pink dresslooking her up and down. The snobbish expression on her face told Deryn thatshe wasn’t impressed by what she saw, even though the girl’s own dress was farmore humble then that of any of the other ladies.

“Aye, that’s me,” Deryn said with a frown.

The girl pursed her lips and seemed as though she wanted tosay something unkind, but held her tongue.

“I was told by a mutual friend that you would be here,” shesaid, “And that friend would very much like to meet you.”

For an awful moment fear bloomed in Deryn’s chest. Was EddieMalone planning to publish the mad airgirl story after all?

“And which friend would that be, miss?” Deryn asked,managing to keep the quake from her voice.

A self-satisfied smirk spread across the girl’s features,“The Lady Spinerette, Mr. Sharp.”

The relief Deryn felt was soon clouded by confusion. Thatsounded like some kind of daft code name, perhaps for the Lady Boffin? Whywould Doctor Barlow send some American lassie to fetch her?

“I see, and why hasn’t this Lady come to tell me thisherself?” Deryn asked with an arched brow.

“She wasn’t invited,” The girl said pertly, “And neither wasI, for that matter. So I would appreciate it if you stuffed your questions and camewith me.”

Deryn blinked at the sudden forwardness. Riding in runawaywalkers, wearing short skirts, and now mouthing off to a legal undead! Americanwomen really were an odd bunch weren’t they?

“I see,” Deryn said, “It is a lovely night for a walk.”

The girl growled out a disgusted huff, but begrudgingly tookDeryn’s arm. Deryn almost balked at the gesture, before remembering that thissort of thing was normal in New York. Deryn allowed the grumpy girl to drag heraway, curiosity was getting the better of her and it wasn’t like the Americansknew how to harm a Vampire at night.

The both of them walked in silence away from the ballroom, whichDeryn didn’t mind much. She told herself that recently she had begun to lookmore human, even if she still had heightened senses. There was no reason foranyone to think they were any more then a soldier and his girl going out for anight on the town.

Much to Deryn’s surprise the girl lead them both away from thefancy districts and down shadier streets.

“Your Lady isn’t staying in one of those nice Hotels?” Derynasked.

“Oh, Lady Spinerette is a resident of New York,” the girlsaid, “She’s not that sort of lady.”

“And yet she’s got her servants fetching midshipmen fromparties?” Deryn asked, arching a brow.

“I’m not a servant,” the girl suddenly said, turning on herheel to glare at Deryn, “I was a servant before she found me. Then Mr. Hopkinsgot all handsy. Said that if I told he’d make sure I’d be out on the streets,me n’ my little brother.”

There was a passion in the girls blood, such complete andunadulterated hatred that it makes Deryn flinch back. She seems to notice Deryncower, and changes her tone.

“But Lady Spinerette fixed all that up,” she said, “Fixed itup for all of us. We all had the samestory just about, but then the Lady Spinerette came and…”

The words died in her throat, some morbid satisfactionbehind them as if consumed by memory. Judging by the cruelty of her smile, thememory was a particularly violent one.

“She protects us,” The girl finished, “And in return, wehelp her as well.”

She giggled as she pulled her scarf tighter about her neck,cheeks flushing. Deryn could smell her infatuation from here just thinkingabout the mysterious benefactor.

Down the brightly lit streets they went, until theirsurroundings started to show more signs of depravity and disrepair. It remindedDeryn quite a bit of the North Side back home, an odd lurch of homesicknesscoloring her briefly before she shook the thoughts out of her head. Even thoughthe cure was taking its sweet time in its effect, Deryn still felt ill at allthe living feelings that flared up every once in a while.

Finally they arrived at a shabby little apartment buildingthat might have once been fancy, but since lost its shine. One look inside toldDeryn that whoever lived her certainly wasn’t paying the rent, dust coated thecovered furniture and cobwebbed chandelier. There were twitters of voices, andDeryn caught a glimpse of children hiding underneath tables and chairs, dartingout of sight the moment Deryn fixed her gaze on them. These must be the littlebrothers and sisters this ‘Lady Spinerette’ took under her wing in exchange forthe something that made Deryn’s guidecheeks darken and heartbeat quicken. The girl ignored them and went upstairs,Deryn following suit. It wasn’t until Deryn met one frightened child’s glanceby accident that she realized there was no fear in this place. For all thatthis dirty dark hovel looked like the subject of nightmares Deryn could feelthe safety and relief emanating from each of its residents. It was as the girlhad said, whoever lived here was protecting these people like a local deity.

They climbed the rickety stairs and found themselves at adoor, which the girl opened without any sort of grandeur.

“Ah, disappointing.”

Deryn swore she could recognize that accent, swore thatthere was something familiar about the creature that sat comfy on a sofasurrounded by young ladies clad in a variety of scandalizing states ofundress. Though each of them grinned smugly at her, Deryn could sense a faintanimosity from each of them. There was hatred and bitterness behind each oftheir glares, all but for the beautiful woman who sat in the middle.

“But illuminating nonetheless,” The Lady Spinerettecontinued, “You’re eyes are blue, Mr.Sharp.”

“So they are,” Deryn said with a grunt, “But I’m notcompletely human yet, it’ll be a few months before I’m ready to properly fearyou mam.”

Humor danced in dark red eyes, and she flashed Deryn a smilefilled with needles.

“Why would I want you to fear me?” she asked, “After all,you’ve done so much for me.”

Suddenly it all clicked together, Deryn cursing herself as afool for not being able to recognize the girl without her living scent.

“Oh Lilit,” Derynsighed mournfully, guilt tearing through her chest.

Back in Istanbul Deryn had grown rather close with therevolutionary leader Zaven’s daughter Lilit. Close enough that the girl hadeven offered her own blood when Alek’s hadn’t been sufficient. Deryn hadenjoyed her time with Lilit, the girl never made her feel as awful aboutdrinking blood as Alek had, but if she’d known that their connection would cometo this…

“Don’t look so depressed, Mr. Sharp,” She said lightly,“After all, I have you to thank for all of this!”

She sat up from her lounging position to gesture to herentire self, Deryn had to admit that she had somehow become even more beautifulin death.

“And it isn’t so bad,”she said a bit sheepishly, “Especially if you find yourself in the correctcompany.”

There were more giggles amongst her companions, and Derynnoticed that each of them had little pinpricks decorating their exposed necks. Deryntook a step back, looking at the harem in horror. None of the girls seemedMesmerized, weary intelligence and a fierce spirit glinted in each of theirsteely looks. These girls had been through rather a lot, Deryn reckoned. Thedarker girl who dragged lazily on a cigarette had scars up and down her arms,and Deryn couldn’t help but notice that the blonde who lay in Lilit’s lapsmelled a bit male underneath all those skirts.

“And your friends…” Deryn said slowly, “You have anagreement, don’t you?”

“She’d die without us!” A pale girl who sat on the sofa’sarm snapped, “We save each other! That’s how it works!”

Lilit glanced adoringly in the girl’s direction, and sheseemed to calm somewhat. For all that none of these girls were Mesmerized, theycertainly acted as though thoroughly seduced.

“That is correct,” Lilit said, “My friends see the samenecessity that I saw when we first met.”

Deryn felt something cold rake down her spine as dislikeflashed momentarily in each of the girl’s expressions.

“…But unlike you, I feed with the upmost care. I love myfriends very dearly, and would hate to share my unfortunate affliction. Youneedn’t worry about the infection spreading.”

“But how did you get here,Lilit?” Deryn asked, “How did you…”

“You know how effective veils can be,” Lilit said with asmirk, “No one suspected a thing. But the matter of sustenance became an issue,and I refuse to take from anyone what they wouldn’t give willingly. I suppose Iget that from you, I doubt my old self would have minded ripping open thethroats of any man who got too close.”

Deryn nodded, not sure if that was something Lilit should bethanking her for. After all, Derynhad toyed with the very same notion herself.

“Alright, why am I here then?” Deryn asked, drumming herfingers against her walking stick.

“I have some information that might be of use to you,” Lilitsaid, “Before abandoning the committee, I heard whispers of an attack beingmounted against Goliath.”

Deryn’s eyes widened.

“The committee wants to attack Alek? But he practically saved the revolution!”

“Alek’s gold was integral yes,” Lilit said, “But the samecould be said for your quick thinking and strength, that doesn’t mean that theywill submit to the British. And Goliath istoo great a threat to ignore, even to the neutral powers. Who is to say yourMr. Tesla will be satisfied with world peace?”

Deryn wanted to argue, but she had wondered the same thingherself when she was feeling particularly humany.

“So your people are going to attack us, just like that?”Deryn asked coldly.

“Fah! They’re hardly mypeople anymore!” Lilit said with an irritated growl, “Moreso, they are notmounting the attack, merely voicing their support. Last I heard, it will be theGermans.”

Deryn nodded, that seemed to make a more sense. Still, sheliked to think at least one of them would have said ‘but what about our favoritemonstrosity Dylan?’ out of common courtesy.

“I’ll be sure to pass it on,” Deryn said with a nod, “Butaren’t you worried about getting in trouble? I might have reported you to mysuperiors. I’m sure your friends back in Istanbul wouldn’t thank you for tellingme this.”

“Your superiors wouldn’t believe you,” Lilit said with awicked grin, “Seeing how Zaven’s daughter perished of despair the night herfather died. They gave her a lovely funeral, I was there you know.”

Deryn couldn’t help but chuckle at this, having pulled asimilar trick to avoid the quarantine.

“And I gather those superiors will be missing you soon,”Lilit said without checking a watch, without those piercing red eyes leavingDeryn’s for even a moment, “You should run along back to your masters.”

“Aye, I should,” Deryn said, “But speaking of masters, youknow legal undead get staked if they don’t have any.”

“Legal undead?” Lilit chuckled lightly and pulled one of hergirls closer, winning an enamored giggle, “There’s nothing legal about what Iam doing, in any sense.”

The dark skinned girl practically cooed as Lilit took herchin and tilted it to the side, grinning smugly at Deryn all the while. Lilitsighed amorously as she lowered her lips to plant a gentle kiss upon twoperfect pinpricks on the girl’s neck.

“I’m no legal undead,” She said, “I am a vampire, Mr. Sharp.”

[persondudeman]

My 20 Favorite Albums of 2016

I know I'm late to the whole “end of year list” thing but really I don't think you can make a list of stuff that came out of a year until it's actually over. I see people with the top ten lists in mid December and I'm like, “the year isn't even over yet!” Ramble over, on with the list. 20. Dayshell – Nexus So here's the deal, I was really interested in what Shayley Bourget was going to do after he left Of Mice & Men because he was the only thing that kept me interested in that band. The 2013 self titled album Dayshell showed me that he could make it without his former bandmates and thrive delivering a bunch of fun, raucous rock songs and a few other songs while good in their own right I don't think really fit the style the band was going for and it resulted in a kind of odd reception of what would otherwise be a kick ass album for me. This new album Nexus does away with any of that dissonance and gives us a more cohesive vision of the band's sound. From the opening bass riff in Car Sick, I just have to fucking jam to this album. If you ever see me doing a weird chair wiggle with my earbuds on, odds are that I'm listening to this album. The mood the music gives me is the essence of fuckin' cool. Like, walking down the sidewalk in slo-mo with some sick ass shades on cool. If you're down for that, then get in an open top car, cruise down the highway, and bump the fuck out of this album.     19. Plini – Handmade Cities Plini's been killing it for a hot minute before this debut album with all his trilogy EPs offering up some of that good ass jazzy guitar. The songs on Handmade Cities are just as good as those trilogy songs but without the need of a musical narrative throughline. This is a good establishing album from a guitarist who's fit to be a breakout success. Get on board now because there's already an amazing backcatalog that's sure to get even better. 18. Frost* – Falling Satellites So this is a band I was seriously sleeping on. I legitimately had no idea progressive pop was a thing until I checked out Frost* and their sound is this odd mix of flavors that I really like but I would have never thought of putting together. Essentially it's progressive rock but with a penchant for pop production so you get the cryptic lyricism and scope of prog rock but with a reliance on synth and super glitzy studio effects that by all means shouldn't work but inexplicably does. Jem Godfrey goes HAM on the keys and has a really unique timbre to his voice that colors every track. 17. Mandroid Echostar – Coral Throne I was hype as FUCK for this album to come out. I heard these guys on the EP Citadels and was fucking blown away by the musicianship and passion on display. Their willingness to experiment while not always a 100% success was something I welcome in a band. Once I heard about the new album, I pre-oredered it along with a hoodie that's the coolest thing ever! That said, how is the album? To use a word that's essentially lost all meaning, EPIC. I mean that in the literal sense. Everything on this album is huge! The passionate, booming vocals, the shread-tastic guitar playing, the groovy as fuck bass licks, and the bombastic drums. This album took the experimentation on Citadels and crafted an amazing foundation on which I cannot wait for them to experiment and adapt from. 16. Emarosa – 131 I've been a big fan of this band for a while and even though Versus was a good comeback album for a band who had been on hiatus for the better part of 4 years it felt as though the band was still living in the shadow of Relativity and the self title and that music was good but I couldn't help but want the band to evolve. That's where 131 comes in. From the first notes of Hurt you know this is going to be a different beast entirely than the albums that came before it. Bradley Walden's voice is just fucking dreamy and instrumentally it goes from subdued and ambient to pounding and great. At the risk of starting shit, this album is fit to make you say “Jonny who?”   15. Polyphia – Renaissance There's instrumental bands but then there's Polyphia. In an era of down tuned guitars and five million note solos Polyphia asks the all important question, “can't we have some god damn fun!?” To that end, this new album answers a resounding Fuck Yes. I loved Muse but the overabundance of guest solos and musicians could leave one with the impression that Polyphia wasn't strong enough to stand on their own. Renaissance takes that preconception and kicks it in the fucking face because Polyphia delivers a more cohesive, catchy, and overall fun album. They have technical flair in spades on this album but never is it too atonal or verbose to keep away from the rest of the music. Polyphia has found a winning formula with Renaissance and I can't wait for new material. My only complaint is that after the album's release they made a remix of one of their songs and called it Lit and it was fucking awesome! So now my opinion of the album has changed to it was pretty great but it didn't have Lit on it so fuck!  

14. TTNG – Disappointment Island This is one of those albums I can only listen to once in a while because it is very emotional. Henry Tremain's falsetto is a beautiful haunting deity that pierces my soul and the instrumentation is a light kind of noodley which can be more punishing than the hardest breakdown especially on the track Whatever, Whenever where the strings pluck on after moody disaffection. This section is shorter than the others because I need to be in a very particular mood to listen to this album. If you feel moody and disaffected, put on this album and drift away. 13. Letlive – If I'm the Devil Another band I had been seriously sleeping on. Letlive is normally known for their high intensity fiercely political songs and while I love that and we desperately need voices like that who speak out against political injustices, it was somewhat nice to see them dial it back a little bit and become just a little more personal. I think the intro of the album, I Learned to Love Myself doubles as basically the album's thesis paired with the album title essentially that they have been shaped in a bad way but they're going to love themselves anyway and I think that is a message that needs touting and in the coming years of turmoil, I hope to look to Letlive as a vehicle for change and revolution. 12. Animals As Leaders – The Madness of Many You know how I slagged off noodliness and downtuned guitars in the Polyphia spot? Well, this is different. Animals as Leaders has a way of crafting the densest music that I find pretty accessible. From the opening notes of sitar from Arithmophobia, you know you're in for something you may not fully get your first listen but have an unparalleled appreciation for. While it is less melodious than their last album The Joy of Motion, The Madness of Many offers a lot of great songwriting for those willing to take the dive. 11. The Fall of Troy – OK   Holy shit, The Fall of Troy had an album this year! These guys were on hiatus for 7 fucking years! The likelihood of them making an album at all was astronomically unlikely and the fact that it's so fucking good is a god damn triumph! If you've been missing their particular brand of post hardcore then this is a real treat! Thomas Erak is just as much a guitar god as ever and his voice has aged into a bitter howl that’s fucking intense. Hearing his refined screams and blistering guitar playing is amazing! I'm blown away that even as stripped down as this album is compared to In the Unlikely Event that just three guys can pull of this huge ass sound! 10. Haken – Affinity Affinity is one of those albums where really one song is worth the price of admission. Don't get me wrong, the rest of the album is great too but... 1985. As far as I'm concerned, the album could just be that song and I'd be like, “it was a little short but this album was fantastic!” This album positively oozes 80's synth prog but with a reckless progressive abandon that's quintessentially now that makes it the perfect tribute because you're struck with nostalgia (or if you're as young as me, secondhand nostalgia) for all the good stuff about the 80's like the first 5 80′s Rush albums but coincidentally forget all the shitty stuff about the 80's which happens to be basically everything else from the 80's. I swear the little synth break in the middle of 1985 evokes some kind of emotion in me. I either start crying or get really pumped or have a stupid ass grin on my face or some bizarre combination of the 3 and if you want to experience that too, listen to this album! 9. VOLA – Inmazes With Haken covering 80's synth prog, there's also a great place for electronic elements in modern metal and VOLA showcases that perfectly with Inmazes. It's a bizarre combination of heavy riffage with video gamey synths that works extremely well. I've heard VOLA described as Tears for Fears mixed with Meshuggah and if that sounds like a combination you might like, you need to check this out because odds are you will. Even if it doesn't seem like it will mix, trust me it will. 8.  Three Trapped Tigers – Silent Earthling The fact that I'm putting another instrumental band higher than Animals As Leaders is seen as blasphemy in some circles but you have to believe me when I say that these guys are really that good. They have a really technical approach to synthy music that I haven't really seen anywhere else and are yet again another trio that makes everything sound really big and grand. At times it feels like the Hotline Miami soundtrack but other times it's super bombastic and crazy. The more I say about this album, the less good I get at describing it so I implore you GO LISTEN TO THESE GUYS THEY’RE REALLY GOOD!! 7. Deftones – Gore This album is both crushing and beautiful at the same time with both some of the sludgiest breakdowns I've heard and some of the lightest passages of ambiance. Chino Moreno's voice booms and croons and soars all over the damn place throughout this album and the guitars echo and crunch along with him. It's ultimately an uplifting album by the end but damn does it sink deep into depressions to get us there. If you need to fade away, pick this album up. 6. Balance and Composure – Light We Made Remember Deftones? Well now you don't have to! Okay, that's not quite it but at the same time though, Balance and Composure's latest shares a lot of similarities to Gore with its ambiance and overall melancholy. I was a fan of their previous albums but this new album is almost a complete departure from that style and whereas most bands feel very odd in new territory Balance and Composure seems to thrive. The long stretches of guitar tones and soft ambient vocals layered with light keys is something they've never attempted before but absolutely nail. This is another fade album for those of you who need to fade away.   5. The Dear Hunter – Act V: Hymns With the Devil in Confessional You know how award shows give out awards to actors who recently starred in something that the award show just now recognizes and the award is well deserved but really you know it's for their earlier works and this is kind of penance for all the other better stuff? Okay, well maybe not that specifically but that's my place with The Dear Hunter. I had heard of these guys and checked out a few albums before but this is the year that I really dove into their discography and discovered the treasure trove of gems awaiting me. This isn't to say that the album isn't worth this spot, it totally is. Casey Cescenzo's lyricism is on point as ever with a poetic gravity that makes each bit hit super hard and this album basically went full on musical with songs like The Haves and the Have Naughts I can basically envision taking place on stage. The reason I had that little caveat before this however is that you need to be familiar with The Dear Hunter's previous acts to really get into the album. Granted, the album itself is great, but knowing about the previous acts going in makes it much better.   4. Thank You Scientist – Stranger Heads Prevail None of the people I watch had this album on their top lists and honestly I think they're doing a disservice to themselves. Thank You Scientist dropped one of the most creative, imaginative, and fun releases of the whole fucking year and the so called “critics” didn't do shit! This album is an explosive blast of jazz fusion that's at once technical and crazy but also accessible and catchy. You know what? Instead of me waxing poetically about this album, go check out the song The Amateur Arsonist's Handbook and thank me later. There's a violin solo that's beyond words it's so good! 3. Dance Gavin Dance – Mothership Some of you may know that Dance Gavin Dance is one of my favorite bands and this year they released one of their best albums to date and I'm tempted to say that this is their best album ever. Yes, even better than DBM 1. Where DBM 1 is lightning in a bottle, Mothership is pure cultivated skill over the course of their decade long career. Everyone has never sounded better. Tilian is raw and emotional but still possesses amazing skill and range from screaming along on Chucky Vs. The Giant Tortoise to his soaring over Deception. Jon Mess sounds better than anything he's put to record before with an unparalleled clarity to his screams. Will Swan's guitar playing has been gushed about to death and honestly I can't add anything to it except another glowing appraisal. Matt Mingus' drums are bombastic and crazy but consistent and Tim Feerick's bass provides a much needed spine to the songs. Before I gush myself to death I implore you to listen to this album. Even if you weren't on board with Dance Gavin Dance before, give this a spin because it may make you a fan. 2. Periphery – Periphery III Select Difficulty This is one other instance where one song or in this case, cluster of songs is worth the price of admission. I saw a lot of people turned off by The Price is Wrong's lyricism and I'm hoping that the triple threat of Flatline, Absolomb, and Catch Fire are enough to bring them back. I also see a lot of people wishing that Periphery would go back to their Periphery 1 sound but that's for another time. The fact that this was made right after what I consider their magnum opus Juggernaut and it's still pretty damn good is a miracle in itself. The fact that it's just as good as Juggernaut I can't even fathom. To keep this from just becoming a bunch of gutterances I'll just say please check out this album. If you’re anything like me, the bass line in Absolomb will awaken things in you. 1. Iamthemorning – Lighthouse Technically if we're going by favorites, Periphery would be number 1. However, sometimes I have to forego personal taste and showcase something masterful. Iamthemorning's Lighthouse is a work of genius that needs to be remembered. From the first track I Came Before the Water Part 1, Marjana Semkina graces the ears with her operatic falsetto that I just cannot praise enough and when combined with Gleb Kolyadin's piano work, and a veritable studio orchestra it creates a thing of unbridled beauty. This all culminates in what I think is the best track off the album, the title track where Mariusz Duda shows up and I just fucking die because it's just too beautiful. This is yet another album I can only listen to sometimes. It tells the tale of somebody suffering through mental illness and their suicide. It's very bleak but not without hope. At the end of the album in the liner notes the band has a message that says, “This album is dedicated to the subject of mental illness and we'd like to pass on the message to all the lost souls out there: you are not alone, ever.” I want to take that sentiment with me into the coming years and I hope you do too. Thanks if you read this far. If you want more of this music talk abouty type of thing, tell me.