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captlok · 4 years

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Pacifism Isn’t A Character Trait

Or: MLK Day is Upon Us so Let Me Do You a Learn

Or: As An Aang Stan I Got a Bit Over-Zealous But Lemme Explain Why For A Hot Minute

Plus some History and Tumblr commentary that even non-ATLA fans can chew on

And by ‘hot minute’ I do mean this is going to be a long meta, so strap in. For those of you who just might be tuning into this debacle, I, a person who has not used Tumblr, much at all, except for the last half year, ran into some trouble.

If you wanna skip the whole TLDNR interpersonal stuffs and get straight to Why Aang is the Best Thing Since Sliced Bread, I will embolden the relevant parts, and italicize the crit of Korra, if you want that alongside.

I was excited that ATLA was seeing a resurgence due to the Netflix remake. I wasn’t even trying to apply any steep expectations for it. (learned not to do that the hard way with the last live action adaption, and to a much lesser extent, ATLOK, since it had good . . . elements, *ba dum tsshh*)

So, these are a couple aspects of the issue: (1) Even on the internet, I am extremely introverted and until recently mostly came for content, not socializing. My main online interactions thus far have been in forums and artist-to-artist on DA. Tumblr is still very strange to me because it splits up its ‘threads’ so you can’t see all the replies if a certain pattern of users responds in their own space. I’m not even 100% sure it’s in chronological order, and replies are not nested next to each other so you can look in the comments and someone will be replying to something you can’t see in that window. And also since it is a bizarre hybrid of a blogging system, posts are somehow considered ‘owned by’ or an ‘extension of’ OP in a way forum threads are not. (2) ATLOK was good in a cinematic and musical way, to be sure. It also had some good concepts. I can go into it just appreciating it for the worldbuilding and be somewhat satisfied. But the execution was terrible. I was on AvatarSpirit.Net for years, and If I had maintained my presence on ASN to current day and had gotten around to downloading their archive now that the forum is dead, I would include some links to other peoples’ detailed analyses on just how flawed both the plotting and Korra’s frustratingly flat learning curve was especially in the first two seasons. But, that is a task for another day, and only if people are interested.

No, what I’m addressing today, on the issue of Korra as a writing exercise, is how Mike and Bryan said specifically they wanted to make her ‘as opposite to Aang as possible’ and in so doing, muddied the central theme of the original ATLA series.

Now, again, I was mainly an art consumer for my first major round of ATLA fandom. Tumblr is an alien beast to me. But, after I write my first major Aang meta, talking about how amazing it is that he has the attitude he does, and how being content in the face of this overwhelming pain and suffering is an ONGOING PROCESS and an INTENTIONAL DECISION and not a simple PERSONALITY TRAIT, I start hearing that Aang gets a lot of hate from the fandom. Now this would be bad enough if it were merely people not liking his crowning moment of pacifism because they don’t understand the potential utility (I’ll elaborate on that in another post) or the ethics involved.

Aang is easily the most adult member of the Gaang. But he apparently gets hate for his few moments where he actually acts his age, a preteen, and maybe kisses a girl in a historical timeframe in which ‘consent’ discussions were probably nonexistent. Even in the present day, we are still practically drowned in movies that reinforce this kissing without asking trope. And even some female bodied people complain that asking kills the mood! But somehow he is responsible and reprehensible for this, even though the first time she kissed him back. I’m only going to get into the pacifism discussion today, but that was just another layer of annoyance bouncing around in the back of my head. Other peoples’ crit of Korra that was stewing in my subconscious, plus this Aang bashing, which thankfully I had not directly read much of, made up the backdrop of gasoline for the match that set it off. Even that seems a pretty melodramatic way to phrase what I actually said, which was: Aang, on the other hand, lost dozens of father figures and was being steamrolled by Ozai who was gloating about genocide TO HIS FACE, yet he still reigned in all that quote, ‘unbelievable rage and pain’ (The Southern Raiders). We Stan Aang, the Superior Avatar. No I did not f**king stutter. #AangSupremacy In another meta, someone complained that I was too defensive of Aang as a character and didn’t apply literary analysis enough, which I quickly rectified.

What set this off? Someone was kind of indirectly praising the line from Korra, “When I get out of here, none of you will survive” To them it was emotionally resonant or whatever, and I have to point out that no, it was a martial artist not having control of their state of mind, as is the bedrock of the practice. It was never addressed by the narrative, which is a severe oversight. I had a conversation with someone in the chats, making this distinction between Korra’s character traits and life philosophy. If she were to kill people while enraged and she was fine with that, that’s one thing. But if she regretted it, that’s a whole other kettle of fish. People argue that she comes from a warrior culture, unlike Aang.

Never mind that warrior monks are a thing. That’s what Shaolin monks are. You can be a pacifist and skilled at fighting. Those things are not mutually exclusive, which is the whole point of Bagua, Aang’s style. And also, Katara’s style.

That’s one reason I like Kataang so much- their congruent styles. Both of their real world martial arts are dedicated to pacifism, even though ATLA specifically doesn’t spell that out for Katara and her learning arc.

There was a meta where someone briefly tried to argue that knowing “martial arts” is against pacifism. No. Quite the opposite. I’d argue that you are not a true pacifist unless you know exactly how to handle yourself if someone attacks you. If you are not in a position to make conscious decisions about how much force to use, rather than merely operating on survival instincts, that is not pacifism. Or at least, not any energy or effort towards pacifism as a practical everyday tool. I’ve made a few attempts to learn some tai chi and aikido, and it’s improved my physical and mental health, but some other things have gotten in the way. #lifegoals

I’m not going to tag the unfortunate soul whom I was replying to, because they’re probably tired of all this, but I’ll be sending them a PM to say that I’ve made this into a different post, because as I mentioned before, threads are somehow considered “owned” by OP, so it’s been pointed out to me that I should separate it. I also said, I have basically ZERO respect for Korra uttering violent threats when the writers already minted a far more emotionally devastated and yet still resilient and centered character earlier in their franchise. People always try to excuse away people who genuinely like Aang more. As if it’s just nostalgia or whatever. For me, no, it’s absolutely not. It is respect for a character who stands toe to toe with real people who are kind in the face of overwhelming injustice. (I have another meta on that).

Both OP and people in the chats try to make excuses that she wasn’t raised as a pacifist, and that would be fine if they had addressed it with Tenzin and she had stated outright that she was rejecting pacifism and mind training. As it is, we are left with this nebulous affair where the lines between ideology and personality traits are blurred.

We are told she “has trouble with spirituality” but what does that even mean? Does she have trouble with focus? Does she have trouble relating to the canonically real spirits? And pacifism specifically nor inner peace that it flows from is never even talked about as an extension of spirituality, which is canonically tied to airbending.

“Aang didn't have to deal once with the loss of his autonomy in atla” OP claims.

This was after I had noted that Aang was getting kicked around by Ozai and was most likely going to die. Similarly, someone in the chat rejected the idea that a 12 year old trapped in a stone sphere that is heating up under a cyclone-sized blowtorch feels powerless.

Sorry but that’s flat out ridiculous.

No one wants to admit that both of these people were faced with similar situations, and when push came to shove, one showed his LIFE PHILOSOPHY through conscious effort, and the other was abandoning the basis of martial arts, which is, no matter what the situation, keep thinking. Hold the panic at bay. Non-attachment would have served her well in this situation. Tenzin should have told her this. Before, or afterwards. It should have been addressed in the writing.

People see this as “bashing” Korra, and oh well, can’t help that. If I think the writers didn’t follow through on their themes, that is my concern. OP said I was “offended.” No, not really.

I wasn’t offended by the post itself, or its commentary. Thought I made that pretty clear.

This is not dramatics. Let me be blunt.

As a ideological pacifist, and an actual practitioner of meditation, based on Buddhism, NOT just the fan of some show, I am for calling out writers who write one way from the survivor of genocide, and then stray from that ‘thoughtless aggression is immoral no matter HOW hurt I am’ to ‘let’s not address this character’s aggression in the narrative whatsoever.’ OP attempted to derail by accusing me of being racist or sexist against Korra. Also ridiculous. It honestly should have set me off more, but it didn’t.

Meditation is about reigning in your emotions. Managing your anger when it gets out of hand, and digging down to the roots of it. Being responsible for your own behavoir. Acknowledging ownership of your own actions. Not blaming anything YOU DO on anyone else or any circumstances in your life. Like an adult, or should I say, an enlightened adult.

Or at the very least, that is the ideal ypu strive towards while being imperfect in the present.

. . .

Now.

I’m going to quote a passage in a Google Doc of mine, even though I’d really prefer if you asked to read the whole thing, with context.

“What do humans do when it is necessary to, or greed makes a nation want to recruit?

They go to the army to get trained, right?

Granted, having someone scream and get spittle on your face is, in the grand scheme of things, poor preparation for having bullets whiz past your chest and grenades shatter your ears. And, what do you do to prepare you for the pain of getting your leg blown off? Hopefully, nothing. Like taking a test where you only got half the study guide. But, it’s about the most ethical way to go about it, right?

Not everyone even sees action. So any more more extensive mental preparation for physical pain than that, and you’d have people definitely protesting.

Well, as it turns out, pacifistic protestors themselves, if they were in the right time and place, also very intentionally do this type of mind training. Except, when they did it, they actually did sit still and took turns roughly grabbing each other and throwing each other down and in some cases, even kicking and bruising each other.

Turns out, those pacifists are, in some ways, more hardcore than the army.

Why is this?

Because a pacifist’s aim, unlike a unit, who wants to gain the upper hand in a situation, is to grit their teeth and grind their way through all those survival instincts, and totally submit.

In this, they aim to get the sympathy of the public, who clearly sees they are not aggressive, or a danger, no matter how much the footage is manipulated or suppressed.

In this, they hope to appeal to their attacker’s better nature.

Make them stop and think, wait a second, are these people a threat like we’re told they are? I’m attacking someone who’s letting me beat them up. Or a bunch of people. All forming a line, and letting us peel them off. Or sitting, and bowing their heads. If I’m on the ‘right’ side of things, the law, why am I doing this?

It’s not like a bully, who’s just a kid.” They’re more self-aware.

And might I add the situation influences a pacifist’s actions too. There’s no reason to let a single or a few random attackers beat you up if you can evade or disable without permanent damage.

Pacifism is a dynamic set of responsive actions informed by values. Not a proscribed set or a checklist.

But in terms of organizing against state power, and recording wrongdoing, which unlike during the Civil Rights can happen from all angles from smart phones nowadays, these are the motivations.

“So, the pacifist knows this, and that’s why they go through all that trouble of training themselves to, not only submit, but not turn tail and run, either.”

See, a character trait is something like being a morning person, or ways of handing information, or a given set of emotions a character feels. Once you cross over into actions, you must make the distinction of whether an impulsive character agrees with their own uncontrolled actions, or is embarrassed or remorseful. Those are life philosophy. Now sure, one type of person or character may be more likely to subscribe to pacifism, but there is no gatekeeping on what you have to feel or how you look at things. You can be easygoing, or feel all the rage in the world, but as long as you at least attempt to have a handle on those desires and feelings to where they do not cross into actions, you are still doing the work of metacognition, which is what martial arts and its accompanying mind training are for.

It’s what we see Aang do.

He’s informed us, during the Southern Raiders, on how much rage and pain he feels.

Pain points, TRIGGERS, that were directly struck at when Ozai gloated over him.

He joins with all the past Avatars for several moments, and just like every other time he is in the Avatar State, he is enraged. He wants to exact revenge on the unrepentant grandson of a baby murderer.

We see it when he turns his head away, face still screwed up in anger.

For another example, I could cite my difficulties in being aware and reining in my tongue sometimes. I know the roots of these issues and I seek to let them go.

It’s just that process takes way longer than Guru Pathik would have us assume.

In fact, I would even say that Aang’s portrayal throughout the three seasons is not strictly a realistic representation of at least the sad side of grief. I addressed that a little when I talked about real life figures. But what it IS, is a metaphor that cuts very deep to the heart of pacifism. As I showed in that Doc . . . There is no limit of suffering a pacifist is willing to go through, internal or external, for the preservation of peace.

This was demonstrated during the Civil Rights, and with Gandhi and all his followers beforehand, inspiring them. The pacifists’ method of swaying hearts is probably the reason BLM exists in such numbers as it does today. Will the types of narratives that correspond with their full stories of the way they collectively planned and trained for and approached conflict make it into fantasy media? I’d say, probably not. For a host of reasons.

It could be hoped for, I guess.

But we DO have Aang.

As for myself, whether speaking sharply is an “action,” per se is up for debate- certainly it doesn’t seem to violate the non-aggression principle put forth by the vision of a “stateless society.”

For another example, let’s take my explanation at the beginning. I am examining how circumstances affected my actions, and now am attempting to fix it, if indeed it needs to be fixed.

At least one person said that it not so much what I said, but how and when I said it. I don’t actually think I’ve said anything “wrong” per se. So I have to figure it out.

[I’m considering splitting up this next part into a second post, as it only slightly relates to pacifism itself and is just kinda some more commentary on Tumblr itself- Tumblr discourse, as it were]

[I’ll put more brackets when I’m done in case you want to skip this part as well]

An interesting social difference between Tumblr and other places is this command you often get, “don’t chat/reblog/message me back.”

This is interesting for several reasons. For chats and reblogs, other people may be following the “conversation,” so it’s actually pretty rude and presumptuous to tell a person not to respond to whatever you said, because other people watching still may be interested in your take.

In a forum setting, if someone involved in a conversation doesn’t have anything left to say, usually they just don’t respond.

This method would work perfectly fine for Tumblr, but for some reason, maybe its super odd format, probably due to the “ownership”/“extension of self” I mentioned at the beginning of the essay, people don’t tend to do this.

Now, in comment sections, sometimes you’ll run across an amusing sort of “mutually assured destruction” where two people both say this to each other. You’d better stop responding. Omg just give up. Why are you still arguing. Etc.

But see, no matter where this behavoir pops up, and no matter who starts in on it, those who do this usually want to have the last say on the matter.

Instead of merely not replying, they want to assert verbal control over the conversation.

Tumblr, in its weirdness, is also sort of like a mutant comments section. You can post comment section threads as your own post.

Which is one reason why I’m puzzled when people say ‘don’t read the comment sections’ when Tumblr is so popular.

I’m an oddball in that I browse comment sections for fun.

Probably due to alexithymia, I didn’t really comprehend the emotional toll it takes on many people, so the warnings to “stay out of comment sections” read to me like “hey don’t eat that dessert.” After I’m done with the ‘meal’ of an article or art, I like to see what lots of different people have to say about it. The fluff. Anything vitriolic I either blip over, or extract anything useful, or if I judge the person is reasonable enough, I might engage.

Sometimes I mis-judge on how reasonable someone is, and I shrug and move on after being cussed out or whatever.

In this, I suppose I succeed much of the time in being a verbal pacifist.

[But let’s get back to the more serious stuff.]

We’re talking about what is done in life or death situations, here.

For myself, I may in the near future be working more with dangerously mentally ill people. I’ve had a little exposure to it through various means. Nurses are obligated not to retaliate against patients, and those who have, have been fired in some situations. Again oddly, this is not primarily what triggers my anxiety. Unfortunately enough, this requirement has also resulted in nurses getting seriously injured and violated. I hope to influence whether “no harm” techniques such as tai chi and aikido and arm locks may be allowed. The voluntary philosophy I was luckily already on board with is enforced by bureauacracy, directly relevant to my potential profession.

Were someone to get involved in a dangerous profession, such as a police officer, their moral duty would also be to own up to any spur of the moment anger or fear they acted on.

It’s just that their bureaucracy acts differently, in excusing their actions.

Ideally, they would be taking steps far in advance, to avoid this often-cited fear of death reaction. As training pacifists like Aang do.

And yes, army people are trained differently than police officers because the army, often, even when threatened, is supposed to avoid engagement or deploy deterrents that are non-lethal almost all costs, unless ordered otherwise. Whereas American police are given pretty much complete discretion and often not taught de-escalation techniques. Even police from other nations are better trained in that regard.

Enter the ironically named @avatarfandompolice whose account description should really speak for itself. Combative, dismissive, and their attention-hungry bread and butter is to find people they think it’s acceptable to ridicule. They basically tried to say trauma was a valid excuse to take out your anger on other people, and in this situation, potentially kill.

Now, does this hold up in the real world? Yeah, sometimes. Especially if some law breaker or law keeper has not been given the anger management tools, they perhaps could be excused, or better yet, rehabilitated.

But especially if anyone finds themselves in dangerous situations, or intends to put themselves in such, it falls to them to do this preparation.

As an aphant, I am at a bit of a disadvantage, compared to an average martial artist, being unable to visualize an attacker. But I still attempt it.

As the main “police officer” of the world- the coincidentally blue clad figurehead that is supposed to keep order, it is apparently fine for Korra to not do the work Aang did to keep level. To blow it off as too much trouble: clearing the First Chakra of fear. For herself or others. And its resultant anger. Had she had access to the Avatar State, the authority figure pretty much would have killed people. This is what the “fandom police” and a certain chat goer ultimately support. Maybe they didn’t understand it that way, and since the second had blocked me, they will also never see this explanation. Unless I were to share it in Google Doc form I suppose.

So, I responded. “Remember kids, you are not responsible for your own behavior if you have the excuse that someone else did something bad to you.” A frighteningly common sentiment on this site.

When it’s low stakes like CAPSLOCKING or internet fights, that’s not such a big deal. But what happens if this attitude leaks into the real world? This isn’t even about Korra or Aang anymore, it’s about toxic mindsets. I didn’t know fans taking pro-Korra posts as anti-Aang was a common in the fandom. I’ll say again I’ve only just gotten really active on Tumblr like the past few months. This is about pacifism itself. MLK and his hardworking, training followers (yes some of them sixteen and POC and not super-powered like Korra) facing down firehoses and staging sit-ins long trained for would shake their heads at this defense of reactionism.

Pacifism is not a Personality Trait.

It is deliberate actions and preparation taken over a period of time.

Then the “fandom police” tried more of this, and these two conversations ensued, the comments with another user resulting in the title and main thesis of this essay:

https://captlok.tumblr.com/post/638777472806273024/avatarfandompolice-response-to-my-independent

https://captlok.tumblr.com/post/638806142933467136/the-plight-was-not-what-i-was-getting-at-it-was

#atla #lok #atlok #atla meta #pacifism #martin luther king #civil rights era #history #blm #mlk #mlkday2021

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gwenbrightly · 5 years

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Ninjago Christmas Fic #1 - Decorations

Ahhh, it’s that time of year when I speed write Christmas fics because it’s fun! Crossposted from ffnet. Takes place after MOTO.

“Let’s see what everyone was able to snag for the monastery,” Lloyd suggested enthusiastically. Having never celebrated Christmas in the monastery of spinjitzu before, the ninja had been horrified to discover that Wu hadn’t thought to invest in decorations for the holiday season. Not prone to giving up easily, they had spent several days searching high and low for trees, wreaths, lights, and anything else they could get their hands on.

“Ma and pa sent some lights they swear still work properly. Left most of em outside. There’s also a bunch of garlands that look like they’re in pretty decent shape. Perks of living in a junkyard, I guess. And uh, I think this used to be an angel?” Jay stated, holding up a sparkly hunk of metal with appendages shaped vaguely like wings. He glanced sideways at it, trying to decide if it was worth keeping.

“I… can try to fix it later, if you want?” offered Kai, “I got a lot of practice with metalworking while Nya and I were visiting mom and dad yesterday. And the whole remaking the Golden Weapons thing probably helps too, heheh.”

His sister rolled her eyes at his self satisfied smirk. Jay nodded, handing Kai the mangled decoration.

“If you think she’s savable, go for it!”

“Speaking of mom and dad, they gave us a box of Christmas ornaments and some other stuff, too.” Nya added holding up the blue orb with swirly designs she’d just grabbed from the uppermost layer of the cardboard box she was kneeling next to.

“We couldda brought some tinsel, too, but we decided it wouldn’t be a good idea after last year…” she continued. They all shuddered.

“Dad convinced the tree farm that sponsors the Royal Blacksmiths to sell him a tree for super cheap. He said he’d drop it off in a little bit.” Cole informed them, not wanting to dwell on the incident.

“Dude! That’s awesome!” Exclaimed Lloyd, his eyes lighting up. The others smiled. They’d never been able to have a live tree before. Zane nodded in agreement.

“Indeed. I’m sure it will look lovely in the living room. I managed to locate a wreath my father built. It’s made mostly from old gears, and I know that’s not very traditional, but I’d like to put it up somewhere. If you don’t mind?”

“Of course, Zane. I’m sure we can find a good place for it.” Cole assured his friend. He understood what it was like to miss a family member during this time of year.

“Yeah. I mean this place is huge. We need all the decorations we can get!” Kai reminded them.

“We had better get started, then.” Pixal interjected, eager to finally be celebrating the holidays without being confined to a screen (or her wonderful soulmate’s head) this year.

“Heck yeah! So where should we start?” asked Nya. They glanced around at the heaps of miscellaneous decorations, considering their options.

“Maybe we should tackle the lights outside first? I’d rather do that before it gets too cold out.” proposed Jay. Although it had not yet snowed, the weather had been growing increasingly colder.

“I vote yes to that idea. It’s usually better to test anything the Walkers give us as soon as possible to avoid unnecessary explosions. No offense, Jay.” Cole said, giving the master of lightning an apologetic grin. Jay punched his shoulder lightly.

“None taken. We do tend to end up with... Surprises pretty often when ma and pa gift us stuff.”

“Okay, then. Outside it is. Just… try to keep the dangerous hijinks to a minimum? I don’t wanna worry Uncle Wu.” Lloyd told them, heading for the front door.

The next hour was spent watching Jay zap each strand of lights or light up decoration with his powers as he tested them to see if they worked, waiting for the inevitable explosion. Surprisingly, they made it through 5 whole strands, two light up snowman, and a reindeer before coming across their first exploding decoration. No one could be sure if the shattering of every single bulb on the rainbow strand of lights was due to Jay’s parents tampering with the wires, or the master of lightning himself sending too much electricity into it, but the display of rainbow colored shards flying through the air was impressive to say the least. After cleaning up their mess and testing the remaining decorations, the group began the actual decorating part of the process. Pixal and Zane wrapped lights around the columns that lined the entrance to the monastery, creating elaborate patterns. Cole and Jay worked together to lift an ornate sleigh complete with reindeer onto the roof via airjitzu. Meanwhile, Nya simply tried to keep Lloyd and Kai from killing each other with additional decorations. Seeing her brother wrap the green ninja in lights, she cried, “Kai no!” in exasperation.

“Cmon, sis! You’ve gotta admit he’d make a great Christmas tree!” He defended, before launching into singing oh Lloydie tree, oh Lloydie tree, how lovely are your branches! And receiving dirty looks from his victim.

“Listen to Nya, Kai.” Cole shouted from above them. The master of fire relented, muttering about how no one appreciated his brilliance as he unwound his brother. Their hard work was interrupted by the sounds of a (much less irritating) Christmas carol floating into the courtyard from just beyond the gate.

“We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year!” Sang Lou and his quartet as they lugged a ginormous tree inside.

“Hey, pop!” Cole greeted. He left the lofty heights of the roof, followed by Jay.

“Hello, son! You’re doing a lovely job with this place!”

“Thanks!” Jay said, “You just missed the explosion!”

“… The what?” Lou started.

“So, how was your drive?” Cole inquired, cutting him off. His father gave him a strange look, but didn’t push the topic further.

“It was fine. Building that driveway was a wonderful idea. I can’t imagine how much of a hassle it would’ve been to carry this thing up so many steps.” he answered.

“It really has made life easier for all of us.” Zane agreed.

“This tree is beautiful! Thank you so much for hooking us up!” Added Lloyd, staring admiringly at their

“It was no trouble, Lloyd.” Lou told him, smiling warmly.

“Wanna come inside for some hot cocoa? We were about ready to take a break anyway.” offered Cole.

“I would love to, but unfortunately we need to get going. We have a concert at the hospital to attend. Can’t disappoint the kids, you know.” the older man replied regretfully. The master of earth shrugged. Christmas was always a busy time for the Royal Blacksmiths.

“Okay. Next time, then. Break a leg, and thanks again!”

“Goodbye son!” Lou called as his companions burst into sing again.

“Now bring us some figgy pudding, now bring us some figgy pudding, now bring us some figgy pudding and bring some right here!”

“What even is figgy pudding?” Lloyd wondered aloud.

“No clue.” Kai shrugged.

“Let’s get this bad boy inside.” Prompted Jay, rubbing his hands together and grinning in a way that was only a little bit maniacal. It took a fair amount of maneuvering, but they eventually managed to get the tree situated in the living room.

“Wow, I hope we have enough ornaments for this thing.” Nya commented. The tree looked even bigger now that it was upright.

“We’ll think of something if we don’t. Maybe we can just put Jay to work making paper snowflakes again.” Lloyd plotted.

“I’m down for that. I don’t get why you guys think I’m the only one who’s deserving of this honor, though.” said Jay. He had never quite understood why the others were so fascinated by his ability to make paper snowflakes with such ease.

“Because you’re better at it than we are and we like the way they look.” Nya stated simply, hanging the ornament she’d discovered earlier on the tree. Jay leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Thanks, sweetie.”

Kai rolled his eyes at them and set about digging through the boxes looking for more ornaments. He pulled out anything that looked like it was still functional, tossing a few broken ones into the garbage.

“This one is neat!”

“Oooh shiny!” Lloyd noted. He snatched the ornament from Kai before he could protest. The master of fire decided it wasn’t worth fighting and returned to his rummaging. Kai managed to protect a few of the ornaments from Lloyd’s watchful eye, sneaking them onto the tree when he wasn’t looking.

“Wait… how did that get there?” Lloyd asked, finally noticing one of the extra sparkly ornaments Kai had hidden from him.

“I swear Lloyd, you’re as bad as a cat when you get like this.” Nya told him, stifling a smile.

“Like what?” he replied innocently. Cole watched Lloyd stare longingly at another ornament.

“All oooh shiny every time you see something cool.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure that stems from having a dragon for a grandmother.” Lloyd reminded them.

“Hmmm that’s a good point.” Confirmed Zane.

“Kai, I am almost completely certain that Santa was not intended to be a part of this nativity!” Pixal scolded, frantically trying to prevent the master of fire from ruining the decoration he was currently setting out on the mantle.

“Well, he is now!” Kai retorted, not caring about historical accuracy. Pixal sighed loudly.

“Can we at least discuss fixing the sheep so they don’t look like they’re fighting to the death?”

“Gee, Pix! It’s not like they’re real,” he reminded her indignantly before smiling a devious smile, “Hmmm I should add one of Lloyd’s dragon figurines...”

“Kai no! That is the most horrible idea ever.” she protested, horrified.

“What you call horrible I call brilliant!”

“Okaaay maybe it’s time for a break before Uncle Wu comes in here and questions our collective sanity again.” Lloyd said awkwardly pushing between the irate ninja and samurai.

“There’s hot cocoa in the kitchen, remember?” added Nya.

“Hmmm okay, sure. Hot cocoa does sound good.” Kai admitted (totally not planning on sneaking back later to mess with the nativity some more).

“Yeah! Let’s go eat way too much whipped cream and marshmallows!” agreed Jay.

“Looks like we’re off to another chaotic Christmas.” Lloyd commented to Nya as they headed for refreshments.

“Yeah, but you know you love it.” She told him with a laugh. The blonde shrugged, saying,

“I do. Somehow this never gets old.”

“That’s the magic of Christmas for you. Or… something like that, anyway. Now cmon, let’s get some hot coco before the others drink it all.”

#ninjago fanfiction #my fics #ninjago christmas #decorating #its the most wonderful time of the year #decorations and mayhem #ninjago #Kai's an idiot basically the entire time #Pixal doesn't approve of the way he builds nativities #okay yes I included that #don't judge

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breeeliss · 8 years

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[Miraculous Ladybug]: Think Alike

oh shit! update! whaaaaaaat?

so unfortunate side effect of having multiple multi-chapters is that you run the risk of forgetting about them......which admittedly happened with this one.....oops.....

so shoutout to @ladyserendipitous and others from the mlfanfiction server who reminded me that i had this, which encouraged me to update it (good thing too bc i forgot how much i loved this idea).

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

Title: Think Alike

Summary: Adrien never really considered himself an artist per se. He only ever considered what he did a hobby, something that he did for joy and not for obligation. But Marinette held his prints up to the light, smiled up at the glossy photos he’d spent hours shooting and editing, and looked at them like they were practically perfect. And how could Adrien not let his chest swell up at the sight of her pride?

Photographer!Adrien

Chapter 4: Shopping

“So wait, just to review. Why is this not a date again?”

Marinette threw her head back and whined. “It’s not a date because it’s not a date!” she repeated. “I didn’t ask him out, I invited him to go shopping with me because he was asking me questions about designing. That’s it!”

“Yes, but you also have a crush on him and you invited him to do an activity with just the two of you. I dunno, babe, that sounds like a date to me.”

Marinette glared at her. “By that definition, you asking Nino to help you babysit your sisters today is also a date. Boom. Deflected. Leave me alone.”

Alya rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Um, no. Not deflected. Do not twist this on me, I asked you first.”

“And I answered already!” Marinette complained.

Alya crossed her arms and smirked. “Okay no. You’re over here like ‘oh I’m not trying to get with him, I’m just helping him out like a good friend.’ Meanwhile you conveniently had to pick up your fabric orders today and you conveniently needed Adrien’s help to do it. Which yeah, ok, like this isn’t you trying to spend more alone time with him. And then, let’s please acknowledge that this happened all because you were totally starstruck after your darling sunshine prince sat with you and started showing you his camera.”

“It wasn’t a lie! Sure I was going to pick it up tomorrow, but I really do have a fabric order there waiting for me!”

“You are whipped as hell, Marinette.”

“You’re making me sound like a total creep,” Marinette complained. “Look, I honestly sat next to him because I wanted to compliment him on the shoot and see how it was going. That was totally my intention from the start. Completely platonic and friendly support.”

“Ah yes,” Alya said, rubbing her hands. “But then the plot thickens!”

Marinette winced. “And I actually wanted to know about how his camera worked because it seemed interesting! I just wanted to learn more, you know?”

Alya nodded and stroked her chin. “Yes, yes. Getting closer to the source of all this mess.”

“But he looked so cute explaining everything Alya,” Marinette admitted. “Like totally adorable. He was so thrilled and then he started asking me about my designing, and then I remembered how impressed he was with me when I showed him my ideas, and fine I’m a glutton, I’ll admit it! I wanted to spend more time with him because it’s been fun hanging out with him and talking about his photography and my designing. So I invited him to shop with me today.” Marinette pointed a finger in Alya’s face. “As friends! No ulterior motives. Not a date.”

Alya scoffed. “Don’t you even try that, girl. You are full of unadulterated crap. You are totally trying to hit on this boy right now.”

“I am not!”

“Oh yes you are!” Alya teased. She threw her arm dramatically over her forehead. “You find out he’s just as big an art freak as you are, and all of a sudden you’re trying to lure him into your home so you can lay across your sewing machine and let him ravage you!”

“You are embarrassingly dramatic. Seriously. Also, can we not pick out verbs that make me sound like the heroine of a romance novel?”

Alya shrugged. “Make fun of me all you want, but you’re pining after him like crazy. And because I care about your happiness, I will support your impressively sneaky attempts to squeeze in time with him. As always, I demand a full report on my desk by tomorrow morning.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and decided to relent the point. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“Detailed!” she commanded. “No corners cut! Thorough, my dear. Absolutely thorough.”

“I’ll write you a dissertation if you want, don’t worry. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Perfect,” Alya grinned. “It’s important I keep track of my investments.”

Marinette raised a brow. “...yeah, I’m ignoring you.”

Alya danced behind Marinette and planted her hands firmly on her shoulders, marching her at a quicker pace to the front doors of the school. “I’m getting good vibes from this,” Alya explained. “Something tells me this is the beginning of something grand.” She looked past Marinette’s shoulder and jumped excitedly. “Ah, there he is! Ready and waiting for you!”

They were at the top of the stairs outside and Marinette could see Adrien leaning into the window of one of the cars that usually came to pick him up at the end of the day, talking to the driver in the front seat. Alya grinned and muttered in Marinette’s ear. “Nino told me he was spending all of last class texting his father’s assistant and convincing her to let him stay out longer after school. Just for you~!”

Marinette grabbed Alya’s hands and gently pried them off of her shoulders. “Will you stop hovering? Aren’t you supposed to be helping Nino with his DJ equipment? He’s probably upstairs waiting for you.”

“Trying to get rid of me, eh?” Alya laughed. “I get it, that’s cool. Don’t want me to kill your groove.” She kissed both of Marinette’s cheeks. “Knock him dead, cutie, okay?”

Marinette smiled and pushed Alya back inside the building. “Will you go!?” She stuck her tongue at Alya as she watched her skip back down the hallway, grabbing her stomach and cackling at her own antics. Marinette needed to remember to give Alya a hard time later tonight when she asked how babysitting with Nino went. As much as the two of them liked to tease her about Adrien, they sure didn’t realize just how downright chummy the two of them looked in comparison. She’d definitely have to get back at them later.

She took a deep breath, did a quick couple of hops in place to psych herself up, and skipped down the stairs just as Adrien was waving off his driver who’d pulled away from the school.

“Are you all set?” Marinette asked.

“Yup!” Adrien said. “Took a bit of wheedling with Nathalie to get away with it, but I am yours for the next hour.”

“Oh perfect,” Marinette smiled. “I promise I won’t be too long. It’s just picking up a couple of things and buying some stuff I’m running out of.”

“Ah don’t worry about it,” Adrien assured. “This should be fun! I just wear the clothes my father makes, so I don’t really know what happens behind the scenes so to speak. Besides, I wanna know what you’re going to be working on next.”

“You’ll figure it out quick,” she promised. “Feel up for a walk? I go to the shop about fifteen minutes away from here.”

“Of course, lead the way!”

Marinette’s parents financially supported her designing up to a point. It wasn’t too much trouble for her mother to pass down her old sewing machine, and back when clothing design only really consisted of remaking clothing she already had, buying basic sewing kits and small swatches of fabric from the crafts store was enough for Marinette to survive. But eventually, she wanted to make things from scratch. She needed to learn how to embroider. She needed dressforms for more complicated designs. She needed books for help and reference. And, most importantly, she needed three times the amount of fabric, thread, and supplies than she’d ever needed back when she was just adding decals to her skirts and shirts.

As encouraging as her parents were, Marinette understood that it was far too much to expect them to go out and buy whatever she needed. It wasn’t exactly feasible to sacrifice lease payments in favor of bolts of fabric because Marinette wanted to try her hand at button downs that weekend. So Marinette asked to start working on the registers at the bakery in exchange for a small allowance, and learned how to be smart about how to get everything she needed for as cheap as possible.

The shop that she always went to wasn’t exactly high-end, but it was certainly affordable considering how well-stocked they were in comparison. Marinette even figured out to take advantage of all of their online-only sales and ask for large orders in advance instead of shopping in the store real time. Plus Marinette shopped there so often that the owner always liked to shave off a few euros from her purchases in order to give her a break, especially when Marinette left the store with literal handfuls of supplies. It wasn’t the type of place where she could get huge bolts of expensive chiffon and silk, as riveting as the thought was. But for a girl on a budget, Marinette thought she pretty much hit the gold mine.

She was sort of afraid of what Adrien would think of such a place. After all, she was sure his father only ever needed to dial a number in order for him to get unlimited access to some of the highest quality fabrics in the world. A little storefront like this probably wasn’t much. But the moment they walked through the doors, Adrien’s eyes immediately started darting everywhere they could, soaking up whatever he saw. “Woah! I’ve never been inside a fabric shop before!”

“Never?” Marinette asked.

“No way!” Adrien exclaimed. He immediately started moving down one of the aisles and running his hands along the shelves filled with bolts of all sorts of colorful fabrics made of dozens of different material. He started to look through a small case filled with rolls of fabric and marvelled at the size of them. “Gosh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much fabric on one place.”

“Yeah, it’s got a lot to choose from,” she grinned. “It’s a bit pricy to buy them in bulk like this, but at least that means you’re pretty well stocked for a while before you have to start shopping again.”

Marinette couldn’t help but laugh when she saw how amazed he was at the entire wall devoted to yarn and wool. “Do you ever buy this stuff?” he asked.

“Occasionally,” she said. “Especially if I’m making things like scarves, hats, and leg warmers, it’s cheaper to just crochet it myself. I have to come back another time to get some knitting needles though. I just bought the books and I want to learn over the summer too.”

“God, how do you choose? There’s so much here, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Come in knowing exactly what you want,” Marinette smirked. “Trust me, I know from experience. You walk in here without a clue what you want, and you either don’t buy anything or want to buy everything.”

“Is it just fabric and yarn that they sell? What else is here?” Adrien asked.

She shrugged. “Well, the back has more of what you would find in a craft store. So buttons, zippers, embroidery hoops, needles, stabilizers, smaller swatches of fabric, ribbons….I’m pretty sure they have a small section where you can get beads.”

Adrien twisted around and started walking backwards, occasionally bending over to steal glances at the lower shelves. “My father used to tell me how much he loved going to shops like this when he started out designing. I mean, it was years ago, but they look just like he described. Just walls and walls of almost anything you could ever want. This is awesome!”

“Yeah, I was pretty shocked my first time in here too,” she agreed. “I mean, it’s obviously not an endless treasure trove, but it’s a pretty decent place if you only have a little to spend.”

Adrien was standing on his toes and reading the labels of the highest shelves he could reach, laughing at himself all the while. “I’m so sorry, I’m supposed to be helping you shop.”

Marinette shook her head. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Roam around all you want. I might even find a couple of things for myself that I might need.”

He peeked around the aisle and let out a small gasp. “Oh my god there are like ten more shelves of fabric back here! And they’re all patterns!”

Marinette reached into her pocket for her wallet. “Have fun! I’ll be at the register up front if you wanna help me carry some stuff.”

“I’ll be two minutes I swear.”

Marinette wound up getting 6 meters of a black cotton/poly blend, 5 meters of dark blue jersey knit, a meter’s worth of four different colors of cotton, and a bundle of golden lace. One of the cashiers who had personally handled plenty of Marinette’s orders in the past didn’t even bat a lash when she gave her a 15 euro discount, asking only for pictures of all the finished products in exchange. It all wound up cheaper than she thought it would be, and she started to eye the back of the store where all the craft supplies were. Adrien finally came back up to the counter and started to help the cashier put Marinette’s orders into bags.

“Huh,” Adrien hummed. “Not sure what this stuff is for, but didn’t you have a dress with lace on it that you showed me?”

“Mmhm,” Marinette nodded. “You’re getting warm. Oh, come. I wanna grab a couple of things real quick from the back.”

Adrien followed behind her and rubbed the black fabric in between his fingers. “Uhhhh….wait! Your Eiffel Tower dress is black, right?”

Marinette grinned and Adrien’s eyes widened in excitement. “You’re gonna try for that dress first?”

“That’s the plan,” she confirmed. “I’m dreading it a little bit because of all the embroidery work that has to go into it, but I figured I’d do the more complicated thing first.”

“What’s the rest of this stuff for?”

“The lace is for the collar of the dress. The jersey knit is for this other dress I’m making. Nothing crazy, just something for some of the cooler summer days. And the cotton is for headbands! I ordered the hard plastic bands online already, so now all I have to do is put the fabric over it. I had a couple of spare pattern swatches at home that I was going to use, but I figured a couple more colors wouldn’t hurt.”

“Wow,” Adrien breathed out. “Sounds like a lot to do.”

“You underestimate my ability to perform killer all nighters,” she joked.

“I thought Alya was kidding about that.”

“I pride myself on doing my best to get eight hours of sleep every night during the school year. But during breaks? All bets are off.”

Adrien frowned. “I’m telling her you said that.”

“I have things to get done!”

“You have to sleep Marinette!”

“Oh there’s plenty of time for that afterwards,” she insisted. Adrien didn’t look pleased, but she laughed at his expression anyway and set her schoolbag down by her feet when they turned into one of the aisles at the back of the shop. “For now, if I’m really going to crack down on this embroidery, I need to stock up on a couple of things.”

Adrien set down his own bag and all of Marinette’s purchases as he scanned the shelves. “What are we looking for?”

“A new embroidery hoop. Some stabilizers. Carbon paper. Thread. Temporary adhesive. And I think that’s it.”

Adrien blinked. “Uh….well, the thread I get. What’s the other stuff for?”

Marinette let her hand hover over one of the rows of items before she plucked out an embroidery hoop from the shelves are started to scrutinize the size. “All things I need to hand embroider the dress. The hoop I have at home is too small for this dress and I’m out of everything else I need. I have some extra money left over so I figured I’d stock up.”

He hummed as he stood on his toes and looked at the row of stabilizers above his head. “What does all this stuff do? Can you explain it to me?”

“I mean, I don’t mind, but it can get a little confusing.”

“I’m sure I can keep up if I try,” he grinned. “I don’t know any of this stuff, so it’s really interesting.” He pointed to the hoop in Marinette’s hands. “So what’s that for?”

“An embroidery hoop,” she explained. “So when you’re doing embroidery, you want to make sure you’re keeping the fabric taut so that your stitches won’t look scrunched up or over stretched. So you open up the frame, slip the fabric inside, tighten it, and them you can start sewing.”

Adrien frowned and took the hoop from her and turned it over in his hands. “Hm, makes sense. There was some of that stabilizer stuff on that top shelf up there? You need that, right?”

“Yup,” Marinette said. She was reaching upwards to try to read the labels on the row of stabilizers Adrien had been looking at earlier. “Oh, could you do me a favor and grab that pack over there? Should say medium-weight cutaway stabilizers. Can’t reach it.”

“Uhhh, how long?”

“Ten meters ought to be fine.”

Adrien had to prop his foot up on the bottom shelf to reach the roll before he carefully handed it back down to her. “So stabilizers are…?”

“Well, I want the fabric taut, but I also don’t want the fabric to be damaged by the stitching I’m doing. So the stabilizer will keep that from happening. Because this is knit, stretchy fabric, the stabilizer is also gonna give the design some extra support. You put it on the back of the surface you’re embroidering, fit it into your hoop, and start.”

“So hoop keeps it taut, and stabilizers keep it from becoming damaged and offer support. Right?”

“Exactly!” Marinette smiled. She crouched down on the bottom shelf and plucked up a can of adhesive spray. “This is just to adhere it to the fabric when you’re ready to embroider.”

“So what does cutaway mean?” Adrien asked. “Or I guess what’s the difference between that and the others? There was a tear away up there somewhere.”

“Just depends on the fabric you’re using,” she told him. “So tear aways are better for tightly woven fabrics like cotton. When you’re done with your design, you just tear away the stabilizer from the back and you’re left with your design. Easy. Cutaways are better for fabrics that stretch more, like the one I just bought. So instead of tearing away the whole thing, you cut off the excess and leave the stabilizer on the back of the design. Offers more stability.”

Adrien scratched the back of his head. “I think that makes sense. Are there any others?”

“There are wash aways. You use that for really delicate fabrics, and they dissolve in water. Heat aways exist too, but I’ve never used them.”

Adrien whistled. “That’s so much to keep track of. Now I get what you mean about all this being complicated….”

“It’s a lot of trial and error,” Marinette said. “And looking up on the Internet which things to use for what. Good thing is that sometimes you can find handy charts online that tell you what materials to use for which fabrics. As you get more used to it, you just sort of know.”

He watched her as she looked through the different types of embroidery thread and picked out a couple of golden ones. “I get what you mean. I was pretty much using Google and YouTube videos when I was still figuring out some of the weirder settings on my camera.”

Marinette giggled. “Yeah, tell me about it. You should see all of my browser bookmarks. Pretty sure it’s all references for designing, and I have dozens of them.” She bit on her lip and turned to the shelves behind them. “Do you see any carbon paper?”

“What’s that for?”

“Transfer outlines of the designs to the fabric. So that I know where to sew and can keep my stitches straight.”

Adrien pointed at one of the shelves to Marinette’s left. “Is it that weird black looking paper?”

Marinette nodded and took the first pack she saw. “Yup, that’s the one. Oh, and they’re so cheap! Perfect! I think I might actually be under budget.”

“With all of this stuff!?”

Marinette snorted. “Oh please, this is nothing. You should see the days where I come and pick up bolts of fabric and have to refill my sewing kits.”

“And I was over here complaining about buying photo paper the other day….”

She picked up her backpack from the floor and nudged him in the side. “Does buying photo paper not get complicated?”

“Printing photos does not involve stabilizers, carbon paper, and adhesive spray. Just a printer.”

“Oh come on, even I know you’re simplifying that. Aren’t there different types of photography paper you can use?”

“I mean, yeah, you can get paper to give you a glossy, matte, luster, or metallic finish, but that’s easy stuff.”

“ Easy stuff. ”

“You just stick the paper in the printer! At least I don’t have to set my photos on fire to get them to come out. Wait that’s what heat away stabilizers are, right?”

“Oh my God, no , that’s not what they are. You just iron them.”

“Heat implies fire.”

“No it doesn’t?”

“Well I didn’t know that! This stuff isn’t intuitive. You’re wicked smart so this all just comes naturally to you.”

“You’re impressed because my knowing not to set my clothes on fire comes naturally to me?”

“You know what I mean….”

They checked out all of Marinette’s purchases at the counter and started walking back to her house, delving into rather long and useless conversation about how stylish fireproof clothing could totally hit the markets with a splash and that Marinette could pioneer the movement — “Think about it,” Adrien joked. “No one will ever see it coming!” — which didn’t accomplish anything other than make Marinette forget to turn down the right block to their street and make her gut hurt from laughing so hard. For some reason, she really underestimated how distracting Adrien’s silliness could be. Though to be fair, it wasn’t as if she was a stranger to it — after starting to hang out with him more regularly over the past year, it was hard not to notice that Adrien got into pun competitions with himself when he was bored.

It wasn’t until she was dramatically retelling the story of the time she left her iron on the ironing board and caused a teeny tiny fire in her room that she realized they’d been walking and looping around random blocks for the past twenty minutes. Adrien was wiping tears from his eyes as Marinette looked around and noticed that her house was well behind them, but Marinette didn’t feel like pointing the fact out. If Adrien had already noticed, then it didn’t seem like he was in any rush to get her home. Marinette certainly didn’t mind spending the extra time with him, especially since he made it sound like he could afford to stay out longer.

She was trying not to think about the smug look Alya would give her once she told her all of this when Adrien asked out of the blue, “Can I ask you one more designing question? I just had a random thought….”

“If you bring up your fireworks rant one more time….”

“No, no, not that,” he assured. “Although, that was a pretty creative idea if I do say so myself.”

She smirked up at him as they walked. “Your question?”

“Right, so….I’ve walked through father’s company before. And one time I was taking a peek at where all the sample makers work, and I saw them embroidering with a sewing machine. So can’t you just embroider that way?”

“If they’re sample makers at Gabriel they probably have fancy machines that are specifically made for doing really complex embroideries. It’d be nice to have one of those, but I don’t have the money for it right now. I’m hoping to save up for it little by little as a graduation present to myself. Besides, it’s harder than it looks. You have to have a really steady hand.”

Adrien winced. “How much?”

“A few hundred euros,” Marinette sighed. “Can’t get one any time soon. But hey! Maybe I can get a summer job and save up paychecks to buy one for myself. It’s not like I need it or anything, but it’s a cool thing to aspire to.”

“Wow, you’re saving up for it yourself?” Adrien asked. “No help from parents?”

“Nah, I can’t expect them to drop money for something like that for me. They’re supportive of my designing and everything — they love seeing what I’m working on, Maman lets me use her old sewing machine, and Papa got me those dress forms on sale at a thrift store. But a fancy embroidery machine is different. If I decide to take my hobby seriously, I should bear the burden of funding it. But it’s alright! I’ll get there eventually.”

Adrien hummed and looked down at the bags pinching around his wrists. “You said you wanted to be a designer when you grow up. Are you going to….go to school for that and stuff?”

“That’s the plan,” she nodded. “Get a job, work in a company, maybe open my own line. It’s all a little unclear right now, but my parents always say it’s a matter of just doing what makes sense to me and feels right. I’ve got plenty of time to think about a career.”

“I sort of forget you can go to school for that stuff.”

Marinette frowned. “Didn’t your father start out as a designer?”

“Yeah, but he went to school for business,” Adrien explained. “The designing was just a hobby for him. He happened to be really good at it and combined the business and designing to make Gabriel. He takes pride in what he does as a designer, but he always says he’s a businessman first and a visionary second. He doesn’t just know what looks good. He knows how to make what looks good sell , and he knows how to create success. Hobbies don’t mean much to him unless you can benefit from it.” He laughed at himself, but it sounded strained against Marinette’s ears. “I didn’t even know that designing was a thing you could go to school for until a couple of years ago.”

Marinette bit her lip and tilted her head so she could peek underneath Adrien’s bowed head to see his face. “Photography is something you could go to school for. There are a lot of good art schools in Paris. Or you could even travel somewhere else. Maybe go to America. Whatever you wanted, really.”

Adrien snorted. “It really isn’t a matter of what I want.”

She wrinkled her forehead. “Your future should always be a matter of what you want. That’s why it’s yours.”

“I mean, that does make sense,” he said. “But I guess it’s just never felt that way.”

It was too bitter a statement to come from Adrien’s mouth, and the tone was discordant enough to make Marinette curl a hand into the crook of his elbow and stop their walking. “Is there something on your mind?”

He shook his head adamantly. “No! No, no, I’m sorry. I got a little off topic. It’s honestly nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Adrien knocked the shopping bag against his shins and hesitated for a long moment before he answered. “I dunno, I guess….I guess I’ve been thinking about something Nino told me today.”

A young woman roughly clipped shoulders with Marinette and she realized with a jolt that they probably needed a different place to talk instead of the middle of the sidewalk. There was a small plaza with tables, chairs, and benches in front of a cafe that Marinette liked to sketch at on the weekends. She tugged on Adrien’s elbow until she followed him up the block and pulled out seats for them both. He looked a little reluctant to sit, almost anticipating the fact that Marinette would surely question him, so she tried to smile as reassuringly as she could to comfort him. It was very easy for Adrien to draw into himself when his father came up, and it didn’t feel right to just let the sentiment hang.

Adrien sat in the chair, nervously bobbing one of his legs while Marinette visibly struggled to find the point she wanted to make. “What do you want to do when you get older?”

Adrien blinked, not expecting the question. “Sorry?”

“I want to design when I get older,” Marinette explained. “So, what do you want to do? When you graduate and when you become an adult. What do you see yourself doing?”

He shrugged helplessly. “I never thought that far ahead,” he admitted. “I guess modelling? Or maybe helping father run the company.”

“That sounds a lot like what your father wants you to be doing.”

“Well,” he began. “Father always did want me to go into business like him. I always assumed that meant he wanted me to pick up his torch.”

“Forget what he thinks for a minute,” she instructed. “Forget what you’re supposed to be doing or what would make your father happiest. Is that what you want to do?”

His answer was almost immediate. “Not really. It’s always sounded rather dull the way he explained it to me.”

“So in a perfect world, what you want to keep doing?” she asked him. “The world’s open to you. You can do what makes you happy. You can do what excites you. You can do what you think will help you grow and learn as a person. What’s that thing?”

He smiled softly and stared at her through his bangs, as if he was already anticipating the answer she was trying to get him to give her. “I….I want to keep taking pictures.”

Marinette smiled brightly. “What else?”

He drummed his hands against his lap and stared off into space. “I dunno. I guess I just want more. I want to meet more photographers. I want to learn more about photography. I want to take more pictures. I want to do more with photography. I want….I want to make art . Nothing makes me happier than when I show people the things I can do and it affects the way they feel. It touches them, makes them pause, makes them walk away with something they didn’t have before. I can do that! And I want to keep doing that.”

“They call people like that artists, you know,” Marinette joked. “And you’re definitely an artist. You make magic with your hands. You create things that other people can’t immediately replicate. That’s art.”

“It seems so….intangible almost. Maybe that’s the wrong word,” he wondered. “I mean, I know there are artists in the world, but it never seemed like the sort of thing you could just do for the rest of your life.”

Marinette sighed. “I mean, your future’s a little more unclear. It’s not like being a doctor or a lawyer or a businessman. All those things lead you down a sure path. I don’t know what’ll happen to me or you five, ten years into the future. Being a creative person is messy, so it makes sense that your future will be a little messy too. But….I think it’s worth it! I want to give it a try and see where it can take me. What’s the fun in doing something if you know exactly where it’s going to lead you?”

Adrien winced. “I don’t know if my father would like that. He plans meticulously. Even my life, he planned. Everything I do has a purpose. Basketball and fencing to keep me fit. Chinese to keep me well-rounded. Tutoring to keep me ahead. Piano lessons to keep me cultured. He’s got all these building blocks and he knows exactly where they’re all supposed to go.”

“That’s great for him,” Marinette said, brushing off the comment. “And I’m sure it works for him. But what works for him doesn’t always work for you. You’re not supposed to be forcing yourself into a mold he makes for you. You’re your own person. He can’t dictate that for you forever.”

“Nino said the same thing.” He leaned his head against his knuckle, pressing a thumb into his temple. “And, don’t get me wrong, it makes sense. I agree. And I want to tell him, if only so that he could at least get excited about it and not call it a waste of time. But I don’t know how well that’ll go over with him. I don’t think he’d take it well.”

“Well, what does he have to say about it?”

Adrien nibbled on his bottom lip and traced the scratches on the metal tables. “I, uh….I don’t think he knows. About the photography.”

Her eyes widened. “You haven’t told him?”

“I don’t know how,” he replied helplessly. “He does what he does because he thinks it’s what’s best for me, and he’s really hesitant about me wasting my time with other things because he thinks it’s distracting. I just know that showing him a photo, showing him a new camera, or God forbid mentioning going to school for photography won’t just fall flat. It’ll go horribly. And….” He swallowed. “I don’t know how to deal with him being disappointed in me. I’ll always avoid it if I can.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I’ve got a pretty good inkling.”

“Inklings are just that,” Marinette explained. “The only way you’ll know for sure is if you just say something.”

“It’s not that easy, Marinette….”

“Maybe, but how will you possibly know he’ll be disappointed in you if you don’t even give it a shot?”

The sentiment didn’t seem to cheer him up. His gaze was everywhere but on her, and she suddenly felt like she may have said something wrong. She didn’t know what it was like to have a parent who was unsupportive, or a parent who was absent in more ways than one. Adrien never really liked touching upon his family life much, and Marinette was harshly reminded why. It was jarring to think that Adrien could show so much reluctance in sharing part of himself with his own father. That kind of disconnect with her family wasn’t something she ever had to worry about. It made sense that just saying what was on her mind was something that she would do. But Adrien was clearly a different story.

It was frustrating because she wanted to help but wasn’t quite sure what he needed. It was times like these when Marinette realized how much her own nerves over her crush on him prevented her from learning more intimate things about him. They were supposed to be good friends. Surely she could think of something encouraging to tell him.

She felt horribly out of her element, but she didn’t want to let him stew in silence for too long. “If….” she muttered. “In a perfect world….what would need to happen? What would make you feel safe and supported?”

Adrien lifted his shoulders weakly. “What do you mean?”

Marinette huffed. She wasn’t saying this properly. “I mean….what has to happen to make you comfortable telling him? What would you need?”

He finally made eye contact with her, and she could see how the question made a small spark of vulnerability flash in his eyes, so quick she almost missed it. “I guess,” he said slowly. “Having someone in my corner. Father likes to think he’s right, or that he knows what’s best more than anyone else. More than me. It’s hard to get a word in edgewise to begin with. But for some reason where my future’s concerned, he’s especially adamant. It’d take more than just me to convince him.”

“Adamant about your future?”

Adrien looked up, desperately searching for the words. “He….he’s lost a lot.” The statement hung, and Marinette didn’t need him to elaborate to know exactly what he meant. “He’ll go through hell to make sure I’m safe and secured. Half of that is setting out a very specific path for me. I think me deviating from that….scares him? I don’t know.”

“You know,” she began quietly. “Your friends will go through hell to make sure you’re safe, too. We’ll also go through hell to make sure you’re happy.”

His smile slowly warmed his face, as if an entire slew of fond memories suddenly passed over him. “Yeah. I know.”

She gently knocked her knee against his. “I mean it. I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to deal with your father. I know that can be frustrating. But Alya, Nino, and I are always going to be here if you need help. And just speaking for myself, if you need someone in your corner to help get through to him, I’m just a phone call away.”

Marinette felt her heart whither when she saw him look genuinely surprised at what she’d said, as if that kind of sincerity still wasn’t something that he was used to. But it was quickly eclipsed when Adrien dropped all the bags to the floor, pushed his chair forward, and pulled Marinette into a fierce hug, letting his chin nestle comfortably against her shoulder. Her entire face was glowing, and she struggled with what to do with her hands for a long moment before she let them rest on his shoulders. “You’re a really great friend, Marinette. Thank you.”

Her nerves kicked in the moment her heart started racing. “I-It’s no big deal. Honest.”

Adrien leaned away from her and kept his hands on her shoulders. “It’s a big deal to me. I just wanted you to know that. I feel really lucky that you don’t mind spending all this time with me and helping me figure out what I want to do. No one’s ever really done this much for me before. I guess I’m just really grateful to you is all.”

She beamed at him so hard she could feel the ache in her cheeks. “I’m glad I could help.”

Their detour had to be cut short once Adrien looked at his phone and realized that he probably should start heading home before Nathalie or his father began to worry. Despite her assurances that the bags really weren’t a hassle, he insisted that he help her carry all of her supplies back to her house before he left. His phone was buzzing in his pocket periodically with phone calls and text messages, but he ignored it in favor of chatting with Marinette and giving her his full attention until they stopped in front of the bakery.

He passed off her things and helped her loop the straps around her wrists. “Got everything?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she assured. “Please answer your phone! They sound worried.”

“I will right now, I promise.” He stuffed both of his hands in his pocket. “S-So, uh….any plans coming up?”

“Not strict ones. Why?”

Adrien bunched his shoulders up by his ears. “Just, uh….you know if you wanted company this summer while you’re designing. Or if you wanted to come with me to some shoots, you can just. I dunno. Text me, or something. It’d be cool to hang out more.”

“Y-Yeah,” she replied. “A-Absolutely! Um….I’ll have a better idea of when I’m free once school finishes, so, yeah! I’ll, uh. I’ll text you. Or you text me! Whatever you want.”

He let his head dip when he chuckled, his bangs falling into his eyes. “Cool, cool. Well, I. I guess I’ll head home. It was fun shopping with you.”

“Thanks for helping me,” Marinette said. “It’s always nice to have company.”

Adrien didn’t immediately move from his spot, still keeping his hands in his pockets and his shoulders pulled up high. It seemed like something was still on his mind, and she was about to ask him what was wrong before he suddenly moved in close, laid a hand on her shoulder, and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

Marinette felt her entire body jump when his lips touched, and she was sure she let out a strange high-pitched noise to boot. It was such a short kiss, but when Adrien jerked back she could see his ears turning red. “A-Anyway,” he stuttered. “See you in class!”

He jogged down the block back to his house, leaving Marinette to stand in front of her house while her entire face grew hot. It felt like her entire brain had shut off and it took her a few seconds to come back to herself and force out a quick “Bye!” before he ran too far away. She waited until he was completely out of sight before she covered her face with both hands and let out a quiet scream.

Alya was never going to let her hear the end of this.

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