#despite very much Not being stone or exclusively a top. and i think shes some form of sex repulsed anyway so like. sits there dead silence

[phagodyke]

everyone say thank u to my roommate for going to visit her parents this weekend so I can jack it loud and nasty 🙏

[goggles-mcgee]

Okay, So I need to Ask Um, Got any salt on Marinette's Parents? Because as much As I love them in the show, They are almost never around to do anything.

Oh yeah definitely.

The show shows them to be loving supportive parents and I think a lot of us like to latch onto that when writing but when you take a step back, you realize they are almost never around and why? Because of their business. They are neglectful. Now it very well could be they don't mean to be, but the fact of the matter is, they are and as a result of that Marinette is very mature and always feels pressure to do things on her own or to make things perfect. That's a lot to put on a child.

Anyways mini rant over! There are 3 ideas on my Dead Sea Salt List that include Tom and Sabine salt and I shall tell them to you and the ways they are salted!

Idea 3. Marinette, The Rolling Stone:

This one is obvious here as this whole story is about Jagged and Penny adopting Marinette. Tom and Sabine like to think they know their daughter but the truth is they aren't around a lot. They don't even notice that she doesn't hang out with the girls in class anymore and hasn't done so in months for crying out loud! They don't even notice that she hasn't gone out to hang out with her friends either.

But then Marinette's friends come in and start telling them that Marinette is bullying the new girl, they don't even recognize Lila from when she almost got Marinette expelled, and Lila herself creates a sob story and well Tom and Sabine notice then and there just how often Marinette has been at home by herself. They fall for the lies.

And well, this is a blessing in disguise for them, they were getting busier with the bakery and thinking of opening up another location and doing that while juggling a teenager would be so difficult, especially a problem child. They decide to kick Marinette out, but they aren't "malicious" or "cold-hearted" they decide to emancipate her. They purely do it because they think they are protecting their family members by not letting Marinette manipulate them into thinking she's the sweet person they thought she was, and they want to protect their image. They don't want their family members to think ill of them.

Then Jagged Stone pops up wanting to commission Marinette, but Tom and Sabine tell them they grounded Marinette from designing and took away her sewing machine. He's livid and demands the reason why, they tell him and he just looks at them like they lost their heads, even asks if they did, because he knows there's no way Marinette would bully someone. They insist she has and she's changed and she's this horrible little liar and manipulator and that's why they are getting rid of her. It takes a lot for him not to get akumatized then and there but Jagged firmly says he'll adopt Marinette.

They try their best to talk him out of it but he's set. So they let him, they just know hope he knows he can't return her when he finds out they were right.

Life is good for them after they get rid of Marinette, that is until the interview. Nadja gets an exclusive interview with Jagged Stone, Penny Rolling and their new adoptive daughter that they have been raving about on social media. Nadja does nothing to hold back her disgust when she recounts what Marinette and her new parents had told her about Tom and Sabine kicking her out all because of a liar. The interview is an hour special where they debunk each and every single one of Lila's lies. And Tom and Sabine watch and the pits in their stomachs grow the more they watch.

After all that. Paris erupts. Gabriel literally passes out from all the anger and sadness he feels from his Miraculous and has to take sleeping medication and just sleep the day away. Everyone who had ever met Marinette was furious, not only at her school and friends, but at her parents too. Regulars who used to come in stopped. Which is a kind of a big deal in France, you pick a bakery and basically stick to it. Despite their products being good, people are hesitant to go to Tom and Sabine's, because how can they go to a place and expect to be treated well when the owners treated their own daughter so awfully and for what? For lies?

They can't even get a second location anymore, the owner of the place they were going to buy from refused their offer. They wanted someone who treasured baking and family to buy their place and they can see that Tom and Sabine don't treasure those ideals. They still get business, but it's not as good as it had been. Some people come in and buy something small but they always have something to say about Marinette, like how it's a shame she's not there, or how her cupcakes were always decorated the best, or how her smile always made their day. Little jabs that just made Tom and Sabine hurt more.

They tried to get Marinette back but to no luck. They tried to say the adoption wasn't legal because of the lies but that got slammed down pretty fast. They tried to talk with her anyway they could think of till she changed her number and Jagged and Penny threatened to take legal action against them.

Everytime they went out, it felt like they were being judged. Like people didn't even want to look at them.

Gina and Roland basically disowned them

Idea 6. Wish Me Away

Not a lot of salt but Tom and Sabine were getting more and more distant with Marinette the closer the big battle got. She tried to pretend she didn't notice but she did, they seemed to only be around ling enough to give her good mornings, obligatory 'I love you's', even when they had dinner together it felt like when they asked her how her day was they were only doing it because it was what parents did, not because they were genuinely interested. Everyday that got closer to the fight she had wanted to be honest and just tell them that she was being crushed under all the weight of her responsibilities but she knew if she did she would be met with disappointment and fake sympathy.

She knew it wasn't healthy, she knew it wasn't right, but Marinette figured she was better off than most kids so she never complained. Then the battle happened and the wish happened and honestly, her parents didn't notice she didn't come home. They figured she was at a friend's house. The second night it was a Sunday so they just figured she was still at a friend's. The third day it was Monday, a school day and nothing, she never came home for lunch which she always did, they remembered that at least. So they called the school to ask if she had been in that day but the school told them, very politely, that no one by the name Marinette Dupain Cheng ever went to their school.

Of course they freak out and assume this must be the work of an Akuma. But days pass by and they really start to get worried and try to get Nadja to help them but even she looks at them like they're crazy and calmly tells them they don't have a daughter. That's when they finally go up to Marinette's room and see it's just a normal attic. Then Marinette's classmates come by and her teacher and they ask where she is and they nearly weep because somebody else remembers her and they tell them what has been going on. They too think it's an Akuma.

Then Adrien comes by with a woman they've never met and he looks like he'll but they refrain from saying anything, they still keep their business going because they figure if it is an Akuma then Ladybug and Chat Noir will defeat it any day now and Marinette will come back. There are days when they forget that Marinette is missing and doesn't that just say something? But they have to tell Adrien that only a few people remember Marinette and they suspect it's an Akuma. They don't notice how pale the boy gets or the cold face his mother makes at the mention of an Akuma but they give them a couple discounted treats and send them on their way.

Then Ladybug makes an appearance on Nadja's network and says it's to give an announcement. She looks different, older, and her suit is also different but everyone is paying attention. She tells of the battle with Hawkmoth, Gabriel Agreste, that was the first big shock, she tells them that she was betrayed by Chat Noir, but she would not give out his name as he was already living out his punishments, she tells them that Hawkmoth made his wish and the world was paying for it, that Gabriel and Chat were paying for it, they lost someone dear to them, for Gabriel it was Nathalie, for Chat it was the previous Ladybug, Marinette Dupain Cheng...their existences had been erased from the universe but those who had wronged them or failed them would be punished with the memories of them.

Tomnand Sabine froze at that because it made sense, and at the same time didn't. How did they fail Marinette? They just couldn't understand it. Gina didn't remember having a granddaughter but she remembered Tom and Sabine calling and asking about a Marinette, and in a rare moment she had been in Paris during the announcement and had heard what Ladybug had said. She cried for the little girl she didn't know but she was angry at her son and his wife because they clearly remembered her so they were being punished, and she could imagine why. Their bakery was always their top priority, it was their baby, everything else came second. They never wanted a baby, they never said it out loud but she knew, so she could only imagine what this Marinette had to go through and she cried for the girl.

Roland remembered being helped by the heroes but he doesn't remember why but when he watched the announcement he thinks it may be because of the granddaughter he can't remember, he didn't want to see his son or wife, it had been that way for awhile, but he felt his heart wrench for the granddaughter he couldn't remember and would never get to know. Roland was even more disappointed in his son when he got a call asking if he remembered this Marinette, because it meant he had failed his own daughter and their protector. He knew he wasn't the best father but he felt outraged on behalf of the granddaughter he lost.

People found out that Tom and Sabine remembered and so they found out they were being punished, which made people a bit wary of them.

[The "new" Ladybug is literally just Tikki using Trixx's illusions, Tikki is hella petty in this fic, also okay that was more salt that I thought]

Idea 9. Ivy's Sapling:

This one definitely doesn't have a lot of salt towards them but there is some. They do care about Marinette and they see her as a niece more than a daughter. So they aren't really as involved in her life as maybe they should be but she understands that they didn't ask for her. When the problems with Lila start up they want to believe in her and they do at the beginning but they start to question of they could be true because of her background. From what her and Gina said, she was from the bad part of Gotham and so was her mother, they never told them she was Poison Ivy's kid, they just know that Marinette's mother goes by Pamela when she talks with Marinette on the phone.

So they don't fully turn on Marinette but they do start to be wary and more questioning, they don't trust her as much as they did before which does hurt her but they don't fully believe Lila and her classmates, or more like they don't want to believe.

[soulmate-game]

Can you do a prompt of Marinette being the daughter of the Joker and Harley but Harley left him before Marinette was born and when Joker found out about his daughter He decided to kidnap Marinette so she can become like him (Ace chemicals) (Daminette)

Woot, my first ask in a while! Let’s see how I can do this oddly specific ask that reminds me of a fic that might actually exist but tbh I’ve read so many fanfics idk if my brain is remembering right

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette knew Sabine and Tom weren’t her biological parents. She had known ever since she was eight, when her mother by blood visited her for the first time, sat her down, and explained everything. Including, but not limited to, her disastrously toxic past relationship, her new girlfriend, and her recent success with long term rehab (unofficial rehab that mostly consisted of illegal anti-hero actions, but hey if it worked it worked).

Marinette understood. Well no, she really didn’t since she was only eight, but she understood that her mom— that Harley— was genuine. She had always had a knack for emotions and telling when people were sincere or not. And Harley really was regretful about not being in her life beforehand, and was serious about wanting to be part of her life now that her own was mostly sorted out.

So Marinette was not surprised when Harley really did stick it out. When Harley cooed over Marinette copying her hairstyle to show her support of her biological mom, when Harley never failed to call at least once a week even if she was in jail for punching some asshole or another. Harley never stayed arrested long anymore, she was usually found to be on the right side of the moral scale more and more often so the police didn’t bother keeping her locked up anymore. Through the years, Marinette always looked forward to her mom’s calls. Looked forward to being lulled to sleep by one crazy story or another from her mother’s past. Everything was nice. Perfect, even, for a while.

A thump sounded from her balcony, one late night when Marinette was thirteen. Blinking, the dark haired girl furrowed her brows. Who would be on her balcony? Cautiously walking towards the trap door leading to it, grasping her metal pencil holder as a weapon (she remembered all of her Mom’s stories about break-ins and random attacks back in Gotham), the teen strained her ears. Akuma attacks were only a few months old now, but she had already become in high alert for any sign of Hawkmoth or his victims. As per usual, Marinette’s paranoia began to kick in. Did Hawkmoth already figure her out? Was he here for her earrings? Would she be able to fight him?

She gently pushed up the trap door, catching a glimpse of black leather. Huh? Marinette narrowed her eyes, confused. Was it Chat? He should have been on patrol, on the other side of the city. What was he doing visiting her?

Suddenly the trap door yanked the rest of the way open, making Marinette yelp as the handle for it rugged away from her fingers. And there, backlit by the pure blue-white moonlight, was Not Chat Noir. It was Catwoman, in all her skintight black leather glory, grinning at her before pushing her cat-eye goggles up to the top of her head and crouching down by the trap door’s entrance, balancing only on the pads of her feet.

“Well hello there~” the woman purred. “So you’re the cute little kitten Harley is so secretive about. Nice to finally meet you,” the woman held out a hand, sending Marinette a sweet, if mysterious, smile. For a while, the pigtailed girl only stared before a squeal of excitement left her throat, leaving very little room for any doubt as to her bloodline. A large smile curled over Marinette’s lips, leaving her beaming widely at the catlike woman on her balcony.

“Auntie Selina! Mom’s told me so much about you! Come in, come in, come in! I’ll sneak some macaroons up for you. Or do you prefer croissants? What’s your favorite flavor? Are you really dating Batman? Oh my goodness, that necklace is so lovely! Did you steal it?”

Selina could only chuckle fondly at the word vomit, letting the smaller girl drag her down the trap door and into her very… pink room. Looking around, Selina was once again slapped with just how similar this kid was to her outgoing friend. Marinette clearly had no shame in indulging in the things she liked, such as the color pink and anything regarding fashion. But there were other things amongst the girliness of the room, like the posters of Jagged Stone and the training dummy half-sticking out of her closet door. There were a few ornamental knives hung up behind her computer, seemingly just for decoration although Selina could see that they were definitely battle ready and sharpened. A small mallet, clearly a miniature replica of her mother’s own signature weapon, leaned up against the side of the girl’s laundry basket. But then there was Marinette’s mannequin, which was surrounded by meticulously cut pieces of cloth and had other pieces pinned to it strategically. Marinette clearly had the same professionalism and love for her chosen career that had so completely defined Harley in the Time Before Joker. The same genius intellect hiding in those deceptively cheerful bluebell eyes. And for the first time, though not for the last to be sure, Selina found herself thoroughly relieved that it seemed Marinette had inherited very little from her father.

Except, as she would learn from stories Harley told her later, an apparent affinity for chaos.

“I’m not that picky, kitten. But I’m not that hungry, so don’t go too out of your way,” Selina decided to just react the same way she did with Harley’s rambles, and answer one question at a time. “Also, I am actually dating Bruce Wayne. But, if you promise not to tell anyone—“ she waited for Marinette’s eager nod before continuing casually, “— the two are maybe not as mutually exclusive as many think,” Selina finished with a conspiratorial wink. “No, I actually did not steal this necklace. Bruce has been adamant in trying to curb me of my thieving habit by buying me almost everything I so much as glance at sideways. It’s sweet. Naive, because I like stealing for the fun of it, but sweet.”

Marinette giggled, bouncing in place happily. She loved a bit of innocent gossip like this. “Is Momma Ivy ever gonna visit? I don’t think Mom told her much about me yet, and I still gotta give her the shovel talk!” the fierce look that overcame Marinette’s face made Selina laugh again. Oh yes, definitely her mother’s daughter.

“Pam has been trying to sneak over, but the laws regarding Metahumans in Paris suddenly got much stricter a few months back and have caused some problems. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened, would you?” Selina did not miss when her seemingly innocent question caused her niece to close off almost instantly. Bluebell eyes took on a familiar guardedness, and scanned her with the same soul-searching intensity that Harley had when she was channeling her Psychiatrist side. Selina found herself in a slightly concerning spot though—

Because she couldn’t predict Marinette at all. She was left to simply stand there as Marinette searched for some unidentifiable thing in her eyes, completely unable to read the younger girl’s face and with no idea of what to expect. The side effect of having chaos so thoroughly entwined in both of her biological parents, she supposed.

“Nope, no idea.”

Selina knew that was a lie, but knew equally as well that she would not be getting a better answer anytime soon. So, she let it go and the two of them once again dipped into innocent chatter.

Later that night, when Selina left and the sun threatened to rise at any minute, Tikki flew up from her hiding spot under Marinette’s pillow to land on her holder’s shoulder. Marinette giggled and looked over at her little friend.

“Tikki?”

“Yes, Mari?”

“Why was I chosen to be your holder?” She asked suddenly, flopping back into her bed and staring at her ceiling. The little goddess hummed, smiling knowingly before flying down to cuddle in the crook of Marinette’s neck.

“Because you are born from luck itself. Even when bad things happen, you have the luck and determination to get out just fine, and stronger than before. And despite the destruction and anarchy in your blood, you have the willpower to reign it in and keep control of yourself. That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good. And that’s a large part of who you are, I could feel it in your soul the moment we first met.”

Marinette closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek. “What if I lose control?”

“... You’ll just have to get it back. It’ll be hard, but as long as you have people to support you, you will be able to do it. You aren’t evil, Marinette,” the small God seemed to sense the true question her holder was asking, and did her best to soothe the doubt the girl felt. “Just remember the reasons you fight against chaos. Remember everyone you love, and you’ll be okay. And you have me, I’ll always help you.”

“... thank you, Tikki.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was uncanny just how often Marinette’s hunches were right. Her intuition was something to behold, truly, because it only took three days in Gotham before Joker snatched her right out of her room at Harley and Ivy’s apartment. At least Marinette had sixteen by then, so she had had enough experience as a hero in Paris and with generally unpredictable situations and people who were absolutely nuts for her to not immediately panic. Too much, anyway.

Because there was definitely a little panic there.

See, Marinette knew herself inside out by then. After her own battle with her toxic feelings towards Adrien and doing her best to heal from those before she turned out like her mom, she knew she was by no means mentally indestructible. Mental illness ran the high risk of being inherited, and Marinette was well aware that her own personality was scarily similar to her mother’s at times. She got attached quickly, felt affection and love for others very strongly and, as she found with Adrien, could easily become obsessive if she didn’t watch herself. At least Harley was the perfect person to help with that, and Marinette was serious about helping herself too. She did everything she could to keep an eye on her mental health and keep her behavior in check so she didn’t do anything too unhealthy with her relationships again.

But she knew, she knew she had a soft spot for family. She got attached too easily. And being in the same room as her biological father, despite being tied up by her hands and feet and knowing just how many unforgivable things he had done in his life, Marinette felt vulnerable. She didn’t want to hurt him, despite everything. She still loved him, despite every reason not to, despite her first meeting with him being with him shoving chloroform over her face and hogtying her to a metal chain dangling over a vat of acid.

Geez, she’d need more than just her mom as a therapist after this for sure. Even if her mom had a PH.D, Marinette felt like she’d need several psychiatrists to sort through her emotional turmoil right then and make sense of any of it.

Marinette licked her lips, aware that the only kindness that Joker gave his daughter was sparing her from the discomfort of being gagged.

“Don’t,” Marinette said, surprising herself with the amount of steel she was able to put into her voice. Somehow, she managed to make the single word sound more like an order than a plead. “Joker, put me—“

“Ah-Ah-Ah!” The clown walked over, tutting and waving his finger in the air in almost playful admonishment. He gave her a dramatically fake pout. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to refer to your father by his first name?” Neither of them mentioned that Joker was definitely not his real name. They both knew the point was moot. “Say it with me now— ‘Daddy dearest, I am more than willing to be dunked in acid for you,’ go ahead, say it.”

Marinette’s jaw clenched. Familial love or not, she would not tolerate being ridiculed like that. She dealt with enough ridicule when she was fourteen and fifteen during school, before she put Liar Rossi in her place. She had spent the past three years as a hero in charge of the war against Hawkmoth, in charge of protecting all of Paris from an emotional terrorist.

And gee, wasn’t that what Joker was, too? Sure, he was a terrorist in the classic meaning of the word as well, but he was nothing if not a skilled manipulator. He knew the human mind just as well as Harley or any other psychiatrist did, he just used his knowledge for different means. He had emotionally abused Harley for years, he emotionally abused and manipulated people all across gotham on a daily basis. He was just another Hawkmoth, but with more physical violence in place of magic.

With these thoughts strengthening her resolve, Marinette narrowed her eyes at the man who donated half of her DNA. She let her anger boil into her irises, hitting him with one of the few traits she knew she inherited from him.

Her ability to intimidate others on the tip of a hat.

“No,” she growled back at him. She took a deep breath. It had taken her a while, but she refused to be ashamed of who she was regardless of her blood relation. She would have no problem using the very things she inherited from Joker against him. She might have gotten most of Harley’s personality, she might have inherited her mother’s habit of falling in love hard, fast, and obsessively, but she also had Joker’s defiance. His bone-deep inability to be stopped from doing exactly whatever the fuck he wanted.

And then, there were Marinette’s own traits. The ones that were completely her own, developed over her life organically. Like her refusal to bow down to bullies, her creativity, her ability to take even the most chaotic situation and see some sort of balance and sanity in it that she could use to her advantage.

That she WOULD use to her advantage. The shadows she saw move out of the corner of her eye gave her the chance to do exactly that, she just needed to buy a few more seconds. Just a few more seconds.

“Excuse me?” Joker growled right back, his own intimidation, honed over more years than Marinette had been alive and thus much more potent than her own, reading its ugly head as he stalked towards her. His face was pulled down into an ugly snarl, his shoulders tensed and back straight as he glared right at her. From his spot on the metal walkway, he was easily able to reach over the railing and grab her chin in one pale, viciously strong hand. “I think you’re misunderstanding something here, little Marionette. I’m your father. Half of your life came directly from ME. That makes you my puppet. You exist to follow my orders,” his right grip suddenly let go, leaving behind the beginnings of a bruise as his entire demeanor changed from angry to cheerful. He spread his arms as if gesturing to the whole chemical plant victoriously, and an unnaturally large smile curved over his lips and bared yellowing teeth at her. “But that’s okay. I’ll forgive you this time, you haven’t learned any better yet. That’s why we’re here. We need to cleanse you of all those icky bad habits you’ve learned up until now, all you need is a little,” he bounced in place with a wicked smirk to illustrate his next words— “jumpstart. A little acid goes a long way to enlightenment you know, you’ll see my side of things in no time. And with my blood in you, you’ll make a better sidekick than that idiot Harley ever did. I can sense it, you’ve got a real talent for Chaos in you, it’s exciting, Heheeeheheee! Now then, we should probably speed things along before our family reunion is cut short. Hang in there, my little Marionette,” the man actually had the gall to spin in place while humming a tune cheerfully before all but dancing over to the lever that held Marinette’s length of chain in the air over the vat of chemicals below her. “Everything will clear up in that little head of yours in just a second!”

There! Right as Joker pulled the switch to lower her into the bubbling vat underneath her, Marinette was able to finish untying her hands. She couldn’t contain a small yelp as gravity flung her body forward, leaving her upside down on the chain for a brief moment. That was when the chain started lowering rapidly, and Marinette was barely able to rip the rope off of her ankles in time to swing off of it and onto the metal walkway that came up right next to the giant metal container of liquid death and insanity. Joker had barely enough time to shout in rage before the windows near the ceiling shattered, admitting the city’s vigilantes themselves. Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, Robin, and evening Black Bat all landed on the same metal platform above Marinette’s head that Joker was still on, buying the teen time to start running. But she didn’t go towards the exit right away, instead heading right up the stairs into the thick of the fight. Robin briefly separated from where Joker was managing to hold his own, goons flooding from side doors to inhibit the heroes in their attempt to bring their boss down.

The katana-using vigilante kept one eye on Marinette the whole time, suspicious of why the girl would come back up if not to help her father. But that wasn’t what she did, instead she flipped and kicked and punched her way through the quickly growing sea of Joker thugs until she reached a small pink purse that had been abandoned near the lever that had nearly sent her into liquid insanity. Three thugs surrounded her right as she snatched the purse up and slung it over her shoulder, but Robin barely had the chance to head over before she was heaving the men, who were all easily three times her size, over her shoulder and was slamming elbows into soft spots and the side of her hand into pressure points. By the time Robin got to her side, all three men were unconscious and bound to wake up in utter agony.

Marinette glanced up, getting ready to haul Robin over her shoulder as well before she realized who he was. She let her shoulders relax just a tick, sighing in relief before returning her eyes to scanning their surroundings. She shot him a brief grin.

“Good thing my adoptive mother, Mom, Momma Ivy, and Auntie Selina all made sure I knew how to take down a small army on my own, huh?” She asked rhetorically before they were both unceremoniously dragged back into the giant brawl.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Nettie-pie!”

“Marigold!”

Harley and Pamela Quinzel-Isley shoved down anyone and everyone who dared block their direct path to their daughter. The girl of the hour stood next to the bat clan, a shock blanket held tightly around her shoulders as she did her best to finish her statement to both the vigilantes and Commissioner Gordon.

“You untied yourself… from a ship-grade knot in high quality rope… with a phone charm?” They heard Gordon ask incredulously, to which Marinette could only give a lopsided smile. That was when her mom and stepmom crashed into her, enveloping her in a nearly suffocating hug.

“Gah— mom— momma Ivy—“ Marinette flailed in their arms for a bit before finally getting her head free and continuing her statement as if she didn’t have two of the most dangerous women in the city still giving her a bone crushing hug. “That’s better. Yes, Commissioner. You see, I realized when I was in the car with Joker, while I was pretending to still be unconscious, that one of the charms on my phone had pretty sharp corners that I could use like a serrated edge if I had enough time. So I carefully detached it from my phone, and held it in my palm. It took almost an hour, but once Joker noticed I was awake I kept him talking so that he didn’t notice what I was doing even as he tied me up to that chain. Really, it’s just lucky that I was able to get it worn down in time,” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck with a nervous chuckle. “But regardless, I think Batman and his partners,” she nodded to the listening vigilantes just to the side of her. “Were close enough that I would have been caught anyway, I just wanted to make sure they had less work to do. The sooner I freed myself, the sooner ‘Daddy Dearest,’” she grimaced as she mockingly used the same term Joker had tried to get her to say earlier that night. “Could go back behind bars where he belongs.”

“Oh my little Nettie-cake,” Harley cried, finally pulling back from the hug long enough to wipe her cheeks. It was clear that she had been crying for a while, and her colorful pigtails were mussed and tangled from where she must have been tugging on them in worry. “You were right. I’m so sorry, I never should have let you come to Gotham when I knew he was out of Arkham.”

Marinette was quick to shake her head frantically, pulling her arms out of Ivy’s hold so she could grasp Harley’s shoulders firmly. “No. No, Mom, I’m fine! And besides, we knew I couldn’t stay secret forever. I really like staying with you and Momma Ivy! Everything turned out fine though, and he’s headed back to Arkham. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Nettle,” Pam argued, distracting herself by running her hands through Marinette’s bangs. She had only known the girl for two years, but that was more than long enough for her to consider the teenager as her own. “He took you right out from under our noses. You were supposed to be safe in our home, and he still got to you. That’s not okay. We weren’t able to protect you like we should have been. Maybe you should go back to Paris early.”

“What?! No way!” Marinette argued, eyes wide. “This is the first time I’ve been able to ever visit you guys in Gotham, I’m not letting some psycho sperm donor keep me from enjoying time with my family! I came here knowing full well that it was dangerous. I’m not gonna just run away after one bad experience.”

Harley snorted, and then devolved into uncontrollable giggles. “Heh— psycho sperm donor. Good one, sugar!”

Marinette smiled and rolled her eyes good naturedly at her mom’s usual immature antics. Seeing as Gordon had walked away muttering to himself a short while ago, Marinette pulled herself the rest of the way away from her moms and turned to the vigilantes. Without a second’s pause, she bowed to them just like her Maman Sabine taught her.

“Thank you for helping save me. I know it’s probably a shock that I’ve been kept secret from you guys all this time, but I hope you don’t lump me in with the likes of the green-haired half of my DNA. I’m staying with my Moms in their apartment, if you guys decide to patrol by our place like I suspect, I’ll leave some baked goods and coffee out for you on our patio. It’s the least I can do for you all after tonight. And don’t be too hard on Auntie Selina. Me and Mom swore her to secrecy, even from you guys.”

Batman jerked a little at the mention of Catwoman’s real name, jaw twitching for a second. Behind his cowl, his eyes narrowed. Marinette laughed, easily reading his body language and expression.

“She never told me who you are, but she didn’t exactly hide it either. It was easy to put the last pieces together on my own. But don’t worry, SHE swore me to secrecy too. I won’t tell anyone.

“How the hell are you related to the Laughing Asswipe from Hell?” Red Hood blurted out, his confusion clear even from behind his hideous helmet. Marinette burst into giggles, and both Pamela and Harley smiled knowingly.

“Mom gave me up for adoption when I was born, so I spent my whole life in Paris up until now,” she admitted. “Mom didn’t visit me for the first time until I was eight, and she and my adoptive parents are so awesome that it must’ve suffocated the worst traits from his DNA before they had a chance to develop,” she guessed out loud with a good natured smile.

Batman grunted. Marinette knew that one run-in wasn’t enough for them to trust her. After all, she was still the biological daughter of their arch enemy. But she didn’t mind, she understood the caution even if she didn’t fully agree with it. They weren’t outright hostile, despite the fact that Robin had never stopped glaring at her since they fought back-to-back against the mob of thugs earlier. She could live with their suspicion, as long as they continued to not be outright rude or mean to her.

At least she could empathize with Adrien now, whenever she figured out how to break it to him that Hawkmoth was definitely Gabriel and couldn’t be anyone else. Hopefully she could help soften the blow for him a little.

Harley and Ivy were starting to herd Marinette towards their car and take her back home, where they could continue to smother her in care and make sure she didn’t have even a scratch on her, when Robin’s voice stopped them all in their tracks.

“You are a surprisingly capable combatant.”

Marinette froze, blinking in surprise for a second before turning to stare at Robin in shock. The rest of the Bat Clam was doing the same, nobody expecting Robin of all people to be the first to directly complement Marinette. He tutted, crossing his arms, but never moved his gaze away from Marinette’s eyes.

“But your form could use some work. Most of your style is incredibly improvised, which I can appreciate since you do it well, but you would benefit from more structure in your fighting. I will set up a time and place for us to spar. We start in two days, if you think you can handle it.”

It took a while for what Robin said to sink in, and another few seconds for Marinette to decipher what his semi-aggressive, order-phrased proposal really meant. And she smiled.

“It’s a date.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Woo! This started off a little rough, but I really like how it ended up! Thank you, Anon!

[yodawgiherd]

You Were Never Truly Gone - END

>>>Read on AO3<<< Rating: M

So this is it, the final chapter. It was fun to share this with you all, and I do hope that you enjoyed the ride at least a little bit ;) check end note ( on AO3) for a surprise

The room where the most honored and powerful individuals of the Hizuru nation resided was a spacious one. Intricate paintings decorated the walls, cuts in the wood created beautiful carvings and the pottery alone was worth more than what a decent-sized village would eat through in a month.  Overall, it triumphed everything Mikasa saw in her life, easily topping the castle back on Paradis, and a single thought flashed through her head.

Those guys are lucky that all this pomp wasn’t trampled during the rumbling.

Unlike the room, the council itself was almost exactly what Mikasa expected. Old men and women sitting in expensive chairs and wearing expensive robes – kimono, was it? – studying her with cold and calculating eyes. Unlike Kiyomi, who Mikasa respected despite their recent disagreements, these were the ones who lacked the spine of iron she possessed. They never took an active part in the war, never braved the sea to assist the struggling nation, never stared down a barrel of the gun.

Never kicked Floch’s ass either. Heh.

They inspected her - a curiosity, a trinket shipped from across the sea to be pinned on the Shogun’s chest, a strange yet beautiful ornament. Vultures, carrion eaters, exactly the type that Mikasa despised, as they reminded her of the same individuals who were responsible for the fucked up political situation back home. Then again, Mikasa was not here to change them, she could never do that, she wasn't a politician. She was here to blow their minds.

Summoning her courage and combining it with the steadfast presence of masked Eren at her back, Mikasa took a few steps forward until she was standing in the middle of the room. Easy to be seen, easy to be heard. Kiyomi, who followed close behind, saved her from the awkward need of introducing herself. An unnecessary formality, as they definitely knew who she was.

“Lady Mikasa Ackerman of the Paradis Island.”, Kiyomi said out loud, “The Shogun’s descendant.”

A wave of murmurs ran through the seated council members.

“Lady Mikasa,”, one spoke up, a man whose facial features closely resembled Daigo’s, “It is an honor.”

“The honor is all mine.”, she replied quickly, knowing how important first impressions are.

If this was indeed lord Sawamura, as she suspected, he was the one holding the most power in Hizuru's shattered government. A man who expected his son to be the next Shogun, a plan she was here to disrupt. Thread carefully…

“We hope that your journey was pleasant.”, a woman council member said, a neutral smile on her lips, “The seas can be cruel at this time of the year, but we had more than enough suffering.”

“The journey was fine.”, Kiyomi spoke up, moving past Mikasa and taking her seat on the vacant chair.

It was her right, of course, as she was a full member of this council.

But exchanging formalities would get them nowhere – yet before Mikasa could say anything Sawamura took the word.

“I feel like we all know why we have gathered today.”, his eyes found Mikasa’s, “I know that this is rather sudden, but we would like the wedding to be held in a few weeks at most, the people need something grand to focus on and this event will give them just that.”

"The royal tailor is here,", the woman from before chimed in, "We can have your measurements taken today if you are not too tired lady Mikasa. The sooner he can start working on your dress, the better."

“I-“

“The florist is here too, so we can discuss the choices of…”

“….the carpets…”

“Number of guests?”

It became a blur around her, the council talking together as if Mikasa wasn't even there. It was exactly as she suspected – she was a trophy from the distant lands, a status shipped over because of the blood in her veins. But did anyone care about what she had to say?

Hell no.

Finding Kiyomi Mikasa realized that the old woman was looking straight at her, the message clear. This was her show, and if she wanted to be more than a pretty face she had to speak for herself, Kiyomi wouldn’t bail her out this time around. Closing her eyes and preparing the speech, Mikasa inhaled deeply.

Eren being here was stupid, she knew that, but was glad for it regardless. His presence behind her, however masked, was something she could draw strength from. It was them she was fighting for now, the whatever they had because it filled her with joy like nothing else. She had to defend that, no matter what.

“I’m not marrying.”, she said.

Everybody ignored her and yammered on about the wedding, while Kiyomi’s ironic smile grew.

“I’m not marrying!”, she shouted this time around, finally getting the council’s attention.

“What do you mean?”, someone asked from her right.

“I won’t marry anyone because I will be your Shogun instead.”

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The silence was so thick that Mikasa could probably cut it, lasting for three seconds before it imploded into another heated debate. There was a lot of shouting suddenly, disbelieving shaking of heads, and lord Sawamura was among the loudest, immediately getting Mikasa’s attention.

“A woman can never be a Shogun!”

“A woman never was a Shogun,”, she replied, “and I would like to remind you all that these circumstances we find ourselves in are also unprecedented.”

“Why would we ever vote for you? You are an outsider, you know nothing of Hizuru!”

“Fair point,", Mikasa agreed, “Let me explain…”

The commotion died down as they stared at her – the sheer audacity of her words taking the winds from their sails.

“I had no ties to Hizuru, no deep need for a reconnection with my people. My mother died before she could tell me about you all, before the spark in me was ignited. All I was given is this-“, Mikasa raised her hand, letting everyone see the tattoo on her wrist, “This ink, this mark of a clan I didn’t know, that was nothing to me back then. I kept it secret because my mother wished it so, but didn’t pay much attention to it, as you can all agree that I had quite a lot on my mind.”

Eren smiled behind the Faceless mask, very much remembering how privileged he felt when Mikasa peeled those bandages from her wrist and showed him the mark for the first time, years and years ago. In the middle of the room, she continued her speech.

“Then Kiyomi came, telling me all about your nation and my heritage, and I was taken aback. So this was what the mark meant, this was why I should have kept it hidden – suddenly I was royalty.", she chuckled, "You could imagine that I wasn't exactly thrilled by that."

“The war happened, rumbling destroyed the world and I was left to sit in Paradis and watch it become a militaristic stronghold. And that’s when I couldn’t take it anymore.”, for the first time in her speech, Mikasa raised her voice, “I have seen too much death, too much war, too much suffering for it to repeat again and again, for humanity to be stuck in some never-ending loop of violence. I have decided to use this mark, this status of mine for one thing and one thing only.”

She spread her arms.

“Peace. And not only peace of a shocked world that is slowly rebuilding from the ashes, but a peace that will survive not only us in this room but our children too. That’s why I’m asking for your support as the new Shogun. I am not a skilled and experienced politician, I am a soldier who was burned out by the violence I was forced to endure. Yet it gave me something, it gave me the status of a hero and I will use it to help you.”

One by one, her eyes moved to the occupants of the room.

“Hizuru needs a symbol, a figurehead to rally behind and I will be that for you. In return, you of the ruling council will help me in securing the peace I long for, by guiding me in these trying times. I do not care for the power that a status of the Shogun brings, I care for the possibilities it opens.”

“Such as?”, an old man spoke, guarded expression on his face.

“Paradis needs help. It is a powder keg that is bound to explode, if not today then tomorrow, if not now then in dozen years. I want to defuse it, and in return provide Hizuru with a stable and profitable partner.”

“How?”, the same old man questioned her.

"The feelings of supremacy and prejudice towards the outside world can be dispelled with only one thing – information. If we make the trade and people flow between our nations, they are bound to integrate into the society. Those who come here from Paradis will see that we are the same as them, those who move from here to the island will help them overcome their destructive mindset.”

“That is all very nice and all,”, a woman was speaking now, sitting next to Kiyomi, “but what is your guarantee that it will work out?”

"I have none, only the feeling that the world had enough death and destruction for a long, long time. I believe that the Yeagerists are scared, afraid of retaliation from the outside world, and if we don't do anything this fear will in time change into a deep hatred."

Another round of murmurs ran through the council before the old man spoke up again.

“It is nice that you have a plan for Paradis, but what about Hizuru? As a Shogun our nation should be of the uttermost interest to you.”

“I’m still learning about this nation, I am an outsider after all. I think that this opening of borders with Paradis will help us economically, and I can assure you that queen Reiss will be more than open to negotiation. The island is a goldmine, or do I have to remind you about all the iceburst stones?”

Playing on their greed – shifting in her seat Kiyomi couldn’t help but be impressed by how Mikasa was leading the council, and her speech was not done yet.

“Selling those is a very lucrative activity, and I am sure that I would be able to get us an exclusive partnership… With Paradis, I am very experienced, but the subtler points of ruling elude me.”, she bowed slightly towards the man, “That’s why I will leave a large part of power in your hands, esteemed council, because you will help with the best interests of Hizuru at heart.”

Even more murmurs appeared between the seated men and women as they realized what Mikasa was offering them. A leading figure while they would keep most of the power, something to rally behind and guide Hizuru out of this fractured state they found themselves in post rumbling.

“We will need to put this to more discussion and a vote.”, the old man took the word, “We thank you for your time, lady Mikasa, and will let you know of the result.”

With a last bow she left the council room, Eren in his Faceless uniform just a step behind her. Kiyomi watched them leave with a tight expression, very much knowing that once the door closes the eruption of words will be enormous. Taking a breath, she steeled herself, prepared to defend Mikasa’s points.

To a limit, of course.

It wasn’t until they reached the solitude of her chambers that Mikasa collapsed into Eren’s chest, emotionally exhausted.

“Do you think that we have a chance?”, she asked in a small voice.

“You presented yourself very well,”, he soothed her, rubbing small circles on her back, “They would be fools not to take you up on the offer.”

“You think so?”

“With you, the council can keep much more of the leverage than it had, and they are all power-hungry fools – let me remind you that Kiyomi told us these are the ones who tore the country apart.”

“That’s fine, but I have no intention of letting them turn me into a puppet.”

“I know that, Kiyomi knows that, but they don’t. They see an outsider that they can use as a symbol to say – we have this hero of the Rumbling on our side, rally behind her because she is among those who saved the whole world.”

“Officially, Armin is the one who killed you.”

“I know, but you were there with him.”

They stood in silence, hugging each other, until Mikasa spoke up.

“Can you remove your mask for a second?”

“Uhm, sure, but why?”

A snicker.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Just a kiss?”

“Don’t make me tear it off, Yeager.”

“I would not dare, my lady.”

It took several hours, and the day outside slowly progressed into the night. Mikasa was nervous, walking around her room like a caged tiger, replaying the conversation in her head and wondering if she could have said something different, something better. Eren watched her, unsure of how to calm the storm that she was, and in the end decided to just passively stand there and hide behind the Faceless mask. A bit of a cowardly move but he really didn't want to get in a fight with her, especially not now.

The tension was broken when the door slammed open, a red-faced courier appearing. From the way his chest heaved, it was easy to guess that he ran the whole way.

"Lady Ackerman,", he bowed low, "The council has reached a decision, if you would be so kind to accompany me?"

Self-consciously smoothing the wrinkles on her uniform that formed from all the marching, Mikasa nodded at the man.

“Lead the way.”

Every step bopped the heart farther up Mikasa’s throat, and not even Eren’s presence was enough to calm her. This is it – here she would find out what the future held for her.

In no way, shape or form would she ever go along with the marriage – either she gets what she wants or she and Eren are doing a dramatic and most likely bloody escape from the palace. And if they die, they can finally be free and together in the afterlife – Mikasa had no doubts that if there was a place after death, they would find each other again.

The door was familiar, even the guards who opened it for her, and Mikasa stepped into the room with Eren in tow. Eyes of everyone swung to her and the conversation halted – the expressions of the council members remained unreadable, even Kiyomi betrayed nothing.

"We have talked about your proposal extensively, lady Mikasa.", lord Sawamura began, "We weighed the pros and cons, went over everything you said slowly and carefully."

He looked her straight in the eye as he continued.

“You must understand that Hizuru is this council’s primary concern – no individual, no matter how big or small, can take precedence over the nation. In light of that, we have reached an almost unanimous decision.”

Mikasa held her breath, eyes instinctively searching for escape routes from the room. Behind her, a tiny clink could be heard as Eren's fingers curled around the handle of his sword. This did not sound good.

“And so with all that in mind,”, Sawamura went on, “The council has decided to…”

Half a step back, the door was right behind her, she could…

“…accept your offer, lady Mikasa.”

“I… W-What?”

“We will let you take up the mantle of the Shogun.”, Sawamura grimaced, “It wasn’t an easy call to make, but lady Azumabito was very vocal in her support.”

Kiyomi’s face didn’t move, remaining neutral.

"You will, of course, share most of the power with us, and all the decisions must be signed by the council before going public. We have decided to take this opportunity not only as a change of a Shogun but as a shift of our nation towards democracy…"

In other words, they were exactly as power-hungry vampires as Mikasa hoped them to be, but she couldn't care less. She listened as Sawamura went on but his words couldn't truly find purchase in the mush that her brain became. It worked – however bold and stupid her plan was, they went along with it.

It was over, finished, she had won, and everything else was worthless padding.

It wasn’t until about an hour later when she was permitted to leave. The council would continue in their session, most likely tearing up the power into small pieces and stuffing themselves full with it, and they didn’t need her to witness that. Elated to be free, at last, Mikasa took off in the direction of her chambers, feet beating the floor in a steady staccato.

“What’s the rush?”, Eren huffed behind her, burdened by his armor.

Checking left and right that they are alone, she stopped and turned, coming face to…. mask.

“I have been on the edge for several hours,”, Mikasa muttered in a heated whisper, “so we are going back to my room and there you will help me get rid of some of the frustration.”

She slapped his breastplate.

“And that’s an order, soldier.”

Despite the mask, she could hear the grin in Eren’s answer.

“Yes ma’am.”

He didn’t complain after that.

After everything coming together and an evening and a night of great pleasures, Mikasa expected a lot of happy reactions from her body – she didn’t expect to throw up in the morning.

Eren refused to stay away, holding her hair and rubbing her back while she retched into the toilet. One of the disadvantages of having long hair, it gets in the way.

“I’m sorry,”, she murmured once she could speak again, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You are sorry because you are feeling sick, that’s…”, he chuckled, “that’s so you, Miki.”

Yet while Eren would be fine with just leaving it at that, knowing that Mikasa was exactly as boneheaded as him if she wanted to, their new patron disagreed. Kiyomi wouldn’t hear about just “walking it off”, that was literally the worst thing that she heard in a long time. Was that how they took care of their health on Paradis? Well, ultimately it didn’t matter as Mikasa was the future Shogun, and keeping her healthy was the old woman’s utmost priority. The doctor she summoned was probably the best in all of Hizuru and his prices reflected that, but money was not a concern anymore.

What a strange way to live, Mikasa thought to herself.

He was the perfect professional, examining Mikasa with quick and precise hands, all of it while Eren’s eyes never left him. The Faceless guard was truly expected everywhere, and the doctor didn’t have the slightest problem with him staying.

It didn’t take long, and when all of the symptoms and tests finished, he had exactly one thing to say.

“You are not sick, lady Ackerman.”

“No? Then what is happening to me?”

“I believe that congratulations are in order.”

That did nothing but confuse the poor girl even further.

“What?”

“You are pregnant.”

It took every single fiber in Eren’s body not to explode right there, his knuckles tightening so much that they cracked audibly. Kiyomi on the other hand had a completely different reaction.

“Pregnant? But how?”

The doctor sighed.

“Do I truly have to explain that?”

“What? No, no we… I mean…”

“Good, I’ll be taking my leave then.”

With a bow the man disappeared, leaving the three of them alone and finally giving Eren the chance to do what he wanted. Ripping his mask off and closing the distance to Mikasa in two steps he picked her up, spinning her around while laughing like a maniac. She was still half in disbelief, keeping silent.

Which was okay, because Kiyomi had a lot to say.

“Do you have to destroy everything that I plan?”

Eren was stuck in his happy place, content with laughing, so Mikasa answered for them both.

“It’s not like we planned it…”

“Of course you didn’t…”, Kiyomi rubbed her forehead, “This is so….”

“Great!”, Eren finished for her, “I can’t believe it!”

“Troublesome,” Kiyomi disagreed.

Deep in thought, she tapped her foot once, twice, three times before saying something that drastically changed the atmosphere in the room.

“You should get rid of it.”

“What?”

As gently as he could Eren set her down, getting between Kiyomi and Mikasa as if the old woman would charge her and try to carve the baby from Mikasa’s stomach.

“It’s the most logical way,” Kiyomi argued, “getting pregnant out of nowhere while not being married? It will bring nothing but trouble.”

“We are not getting rid of it.”, Eren cut her off before realizing that there was someone else in the room they should ask.

“Or… Are we?”, he turned to Mikasa, worry creasing his forehead.

She stared at him for a second, wondering if he just did that – if he asked: Do you want to get rid of something she and Eren created from their love, a proof oh much they adored each other, an offspring that would…

“No.”, she said out loud, “I don’t.”

The relief was visible on him, same as the irritation on Kiyomi.

“Oh good…”

“Lady Mikasa…”

“I’m not getting an abortion. Not an option.”

It was one of the fights that Kiyomi knew she could never win, so she did the smart thing and backed down before it even started.

Stupid kids. Dumb stupid kids risking everything just for… well… whatever. They wouldn't take the easy way out, and Kiyomi was stuck with them. Maybe she didn't like the plan at first, the way Mikasa led her in blind, manipulated her, but Kiyomi would be lying if she said that it wasn't impressive. For a former soldier who had no training in such things, guile and outsmarting came naturally to her.

More importantly, Kiyomi did like the girl, despite all her claims that this is all just for the greatness of the Hizuru nation. Mikasa was everything she wanted in a leader, or in the daughter that she never had. Which would, in some strange twisted way, make Kiyomi a grandmother, now that Mikasa was pregnant. Too bad that the child would be cursed with having Eren Yeager for a father, that guy could go burn in hell for all Kiyomi cared.

Anyway, if they didn’t want to get rid of the kid, there were certain changes to be made, to make sure that the plan didn’t go down in flames.

“Then we have to accelerate this whole thing.”, she said out loud.

“How so?”, Eren questioned her, still in that defensive stance between her and Mikasa.

Please, as if that girl ever needed protecting, the memory of her sweeping in and taking out half a room of armed men was still in Kiyomi’s memory. A nice gesture though.

“The preparations would normally take time, and Mikasa can hardly show herself on the day of her coronation day with a belly, can she?”

“Will the council accept this?”

“I don’t know, but I swear that I’ll do my damnedest to make them. Maybe I can twist it, paint the situation more desperate than it is, lie that the people are restless and that they demand the new Shogun to be crowned as soon as possible…”

“I’m going to start showing sooner or later…”, the to-be-Shogun peeped from behind her heroic protector, still in disbelief and staring down at her stomach, “How does this help?”

“Once you are the Shogun I can figure something out, but first we have to stick you up on that chair.”, she nodded at her, “One problem at a time.”

Slow and uncertain, Mikasa nodded back.

“One at a time.”

It would appear that while Kiyomi was anything but elated with her plan, she was going all-in right now. Same as the situation with Paradis – once she committed to a cause she was the best schemer and supporter one could ask for.

Excusing herself, Kiyomi left the two of them alone, already making a list of people she needed to talk to in her head.

The room grew quiet now that she was gone, the facts slowly anchoring themselves in their brains as reality.

“We are going to be parents.”, Eren finally said.

“So it would seem.”, Mikasa agreed in a whisper.

“And you are going to be a Shogun.”

“Yes.”

Turning around he pulled her into a hug that would be bone-crushing if used on anyone that wasn’t Mikasa Ackerman. She didn’t complain in the slightest, clutching to him with strength that squeezed the air out of Eren’s lungs.

“We are going to make it.”, he claimed, only for the statement to waver at the end, “Are we?”

She nodded against his chest, once again taking refuge in the beating of his heart.

“One thing at a time.”

The next ten days were one of the most chaotic that Mikasa ever lived through, and keep in mind that she was a survivor of not only a titan war but also an apocalypse. Kiyomi was a hyperactive bee, buzzing between the other council members and her at such speed that Eren wondered if she ever rested.

She didn’t.

There was hundred and one traditions Mikasa had to learn for the coronation process, a thousand dresses to try out, and million visits where she had to accompany Kiyomi while she convinced yet another noble that the ceremony should take place as soon as possible.

“If planning a wedding is anything like this,”, she hissed to Eren one day during the short break she had, shoveling food into her mouth “Then I’m never marrying you.”

“We are married already, did you forget?”, he grumbled from behind the mask that was his day-to-day accessory now, “Night under a tree, rings of grass, cracked bed frame… all that.”

“I wish this ceremony could also be made by weaving together a few blades. Do you think that I should ask Kiyomi about that?”

He chuckled.

“You can try.”

No, Kiyomi was not amused, and no, grass was out of the question. Very well.

Eren shadowed her almost everywhere, as a Faceless guard he was permitted to even the most private meetings. The other, true members of the order, didn’t give him any problems either, being exactly as obedient as Kiyomi described them. If the future Shogun wanted a fake to protect her, they had no issue with that. The orders were absolute.

Worst case scenario – the girl gets assassinated and then a new Shogun will be chosen, one that will respect the proper Faceless guard and not a wannabee.

And finally, it was here, the day D, the grand happening. Mikasa’s body moved mechanically through the ritual – every motion was explained and trained hundred times over until Kiyomi was satisfied. Still, it was fairly difficult in the ornamental kimono she had to wear, the damn thing was so heavy that she almost tripped several times, despite all the practice. Having a skirt around her legs made Mikasa wish for a good pair of pants too, but gender wouldn’t save her here. The men of the council also wore very similar robes. It was a small price to pay for getting things in motion though, so Mikasa gritted her teeth and carried on.

Eren was there as well, of course, and so was Kiyomi. The old woman stood among the council members, looking exactly as important as her fellow nobles, while Eren was hiding in the shadows, one of a long line of Faceless who guarded this ceremony. It would not be disturbed by anyone or anything, they made sure of that, and the number of guards played right into Mikasa’s hands. She could hide her lover easily now, he was nothing but another mask in the line, here to give his life in defense of the new Shogun.

Instructed by a priest that was so ancient that his skin resembled wrinkled paper, she repeated the words told to her, she bowed where required, and stood tall when it was time to show strength. She prayed to gods she didn’t know and showed respect to ancestors whose names Mikasa couldn’t even pronounce.

Several times the priest stopped and shook the incense he carried left and right, filling the air with its sweet smell. The council members watched every step like hawks, and she could feel their nervousness. It was one thing to talk about a foreign woman being elected as the head of state, it was another one to see it happening in front of their eyes. Luckily, she was prepared and did everything exactly as was expected, following the script to the letter.

Yes, it was one big theatre performance, but that didn’t matter to Mikasa at all.

Because when she finally sat down on the throne and looked over the council members, gathered there in front of her, Mikasa felt a huge weight fall from her chest. Her fights were still far from over, one might say. The position she was put in was anything but secure. Her pregnancy would complicate things, as would the fact that she had no intention of letting the nobles jerk her around. Eren's existence would have to be kept secret, same as the fatherhood of her child, and…

No, there would be time and place to worry about these things, and it was not now. One thing at a time, Kiyomi said, and Mikasa agreed with those words. The old woman was on her side, she had Eren right behind her, and a whole new culture to discover, one that her mother originated from. And as she adjusted her position on the throne, Mikasa Ackerman – the new ruler of Hizuru and the first female Shogun in the history of that nation – did that one thing that happened so rarely in her life.

Mikasa smiled - This was a beginning of a new adventure for them all.

[rhea-florent]

The Dorne-Reach alliance banquet

Location: The Vale, the Eyrie

Under the cut you will find Rhea’s interaction at the Dorne-Reach banquet with Riyansh Martell ( @riyanshmartell ), Cedric Tyrell ( @visxionaries ), Harlon Flowers ( @harlonvflowers ), Eleyana Martell ( @eleyanamrtll ), Luciya Rowan ( @tendcrheart ), Myriam Allyrion ( @myriamas ), Florence Hightower ( @florencehightower ), Mathis Rowan ( @ofgoldengrove ), Helena Tyrell ( @helenatyrells ), Ryon Blackmont ( @ofthedunes ), Noor ( @ofclairvoyance ), Guinevere Lannister ( @gcuienveres ), Ophelia Fowler ( @opheliafowler ), Dastan Allyrion ( @dastan-allyrion ), Loreza Martell ( @lorczamartell ), Addam Lannister ( @addamoflannisport ) & Alyvia Lannister ( @alyvialannister )

A private banqueting hall in the Eyrie had been draped in decorations of orange and olive green, the dining table laid out with speciality meats, cheese, sides and fruits imported directly from their respective regions. The wine is free flowing, ranging from sweet Arbor wine to bitter Dornish red, with nobles from the Reach and Dorne sat upon velvet cushions, engaging in conversations. it is a scene that one would once have thought impossible; for flowers and sand to ever come together - and yet, together, the nobles start a new chapter of Westerosi history.

RIYANSH MARTELL: The Dornish Prince entered the hall graciously provided to them by King Rowan, given the intimacy of the matter an invitation could not be extended to the Arryns that evening. With Myriam and Nyssaria beside him that evening, Riyansh felt content despite being so far from home. Seeking out the Prince Regent Riyansh went forth to the greet the man. “Prince Cedric, I am glad we were able to arrange this gathering on such short notice.”

CEDRIC TYRELL: The Reach faction had arrived somewhat earlier than the Dornish, pushing open the heavy oak doors of the private banqueting hall and taking their seats, Cedric watched his sister from the corner of his eye; still draped in black, widowing the loss of her most recent child. As the Dornish Prince approached the man, Cedric offered the man an inviting smile, standing and shaking the man's hand before nodding to his two wives on either side of him. “The feeling is mutual, Prince Riyansh. It is good to finally discuss matters prior to the signing of the treaties, and travelling back home - though you are welcome to join us in the Reach should you wish to make a stop during your long journey home.” Dropping the hand shake, he looked toward his wife and his sister, as well as the other Reach nobles in the room: those that had been through hell and back with him in recent months. “May I present my family and my most trusted...”

HARLON FLOWERS: Much like he had been in the weeks prior, Harlon found his spot trailing behind Cedric as he walked. Ready to be there by his and Mathias side in case he needed to share his thoughts and opinions. Actually he was rather touched to be invited to such an exclusive event. Dressed up in some of the newest Reach fashion, it felt nice to hopefully enjoy a nice evening. Sure talks of politics and treaties were important but the spread on the table looked absolutely amazing. And his fingers itched for his sketch book in his pocket at the sight of the people in attendance. On his arm, he escorted in his friend Rhea to the party and he leaned over to whisper “How many glasses of wine do you think would be too much?” he asked before they reached one of the other guests of honors. Giving a slight bow as he was introduced. “Harlon flowers” he said simply. “It's an honor to meet you, your Grace. I look forward to speaking with you and your family more.” That actually sounded somewhat proper. maybe he was getting the knack of this.

RHEA FLORENT: The Mistress of Whispers walked only a few paces behind her cousin, escorted by Harlon. She inched closer, whispering in return “Too much for you or too much for me?”. A single raised eyebrow indicated that those quantities were very different in her mind. A pleasant smile quickly graced her lips as the Reach retinue approached the Martell prince. The lady bowed her head in a graceful manner before introducing herself after Cedric gave them their cue to do so. “Rhea Florent, your Grace. I had the pleasure of meeting your sister, Princess Eleyana, before. I'm glad that I get to formally meet you as well”.

ELEYANA MARTELL: Eleyana trailed behind her brother, wine-stained silks kissing the stone flooring as she walked into the hall. With such an unprecedented alliance, the princess could hardly prepare herself for what was to happen. All she knew was that the reach was hardly threatening to them since their new allegiance. She looked over at Ophelia with a knowing stare, like they already knew what types of behaviors would be present with everyone in one room. “This should be interesting,” she smirked at her friend before joining the rest. As if on queue a charming smile spread on her lips and she approached a familiar face. She wondered if the rest knew of the the words shared between the princess and the mistress of whispers. “Rhea? What a nice surprise to see you here.”

LUCIYA ROWAN: If the Dornish were anything besides unpredictable it was impractical. At least, to what Westeros had established as “normal.” That was evident with the two women standing on either side of the Martell prince. She was not going to judge, at least not out loud. Even more now considering that her brother was soon to be betrothed to a Martell. Loreza seemed nice enough, though the times she had seen her were few and never where she supposed the princess should be. Her gaze lifts just in time to meet Cedric’s and eyebrows furrow instantly, tongue poking out childishly to mimic disgust. Why on Earth was he looking at her like that? Luciya doesn’t linger with her antics, quick smile claiming doll like features almost instantly to ensure no one else saw her mockery. The youngest Rowan stands, smiling delicately as her turn for introductions. “Luciya Rowan, nearly sister to the prince, family - I suppose.” She’s lighthearted, though she seems composed. “It is a pleasure, Prince Riyansh.”

MYRIAM ALLYRION: Tangerine coloured silks swishing around the golden anklets at her feet, her hair laying on one side of her shoulder in a thick braid dotted with red roses, Myriam Allyrion rested her dark gaze over multiple of the Reach lords and ladies. How they all seemed so sweet, so flowery, and yet she was one of the few of the Dornish faction that was not entirely on board with the matter completely. There were still people to work out, intentions to gather. “Your Highness.” Myriam extended a hand toward the young Hightower girl, only recently risen so far in station - she intrigued her. “We have all heard of your sudden elopement with the prince.” She looked over at the Tyrell and her own husband speaking, with a slight smile. “I trust we will find a way to get along, for the sake of our kingdoms. Tell me, how are you finding your new life? Exciting?”

FLORENCE HIGHTOWER: Deciding to wear a dark emerald green dress made out of some of the finest silks that the Vale could offer on such notice -- in fact, her gown was surely the most expensive piece of fabric she’s owned in her entire life – Florence Hightower stood quietly next to Cedric Tyrell, the Reach’s new regent. Tonight was one of her first public appearances since their elopement and she was already feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. She remained mostly silent, fearful of saying something that could unintentionally jeopardize this potential alliance. She was aware of the great advantage this alliance could bring the Reach and it’s people – now her people. Florence mirrors Myriam allyrion’s gesture, extending her own hand towards her as she follows her gaze that was directed towards their husbands. “Absolutely,” she answers in response to getting along, “And if I may be honest,” she replies, her voice lowered in attempt to not be overheard, “exciting is the last word I would use to describe it, but I am trying my best.” She lowers her head out of respect to the woman, giving her a small, polite smile.

MATHIS ROWAN: Mathis felt his heart racing, a feeling that didn't usually overcome him. However, this was his first formal event as Cedric's Hand, and while he was confident in himself, he knew he had to watch every word from now on. On top of that, his family would all be in the same room for the first time in a long time, and on top of that his potential future family was as well. He greeted Riyansh with Cedric as well, letting Cedric take the lead on the conversations before his eyes drifted to none other than Helena Lannister, formerly Helena Tyrell. She was a vision, even in all black, a look that made his heart ache to see. As much as he wanted to talk to and perhaps comfort her, he knew that wasn't on his agenda for the evening. He hoped he might catch her before the night ended.

HELENA TYRELL: Helena found herself instinctively standing closer to the outskirts of the hall, not able to find the energy inside herself to force a fake smile and engage in pleasantries as their guests began to wander in. She was starting to regret her decision to attend tonight’s meeting, but given that this alliance would act as one of the founding acts of her younger brother’s new reign, she felt she couldn’t miss it. She was also surprised to see her good sister also in attendance tonight -- though it most likely meant what she feared most was coming to fruition; that she was still not trusted by the lions and that her marriage was likely failing. Her orbs were suddenly drawn to the main entrance, her eyes fixating on the man who had just entered the room. Mathis Rowan. She watched him attentively, noticing the tense demeanour that seemed to wash over him; he was nervous. She forced herself to resist her urge to storm over to his side and reassure him with what she knew all along: that there wasn’t a better man fit to be her brother’s hand.

RYON BLACKMONT: The lord of Blackmont walked in beside his sister Eleyana Martell, offering her a small knowing look as he listened to Riyansh and Cedric sussing out the formalities. He didn't speak to any of the Reach lords or ladies, instead sat quietly at the table, simply taking a gulp of his bitter red wine and turning slightly, angling his body towards his betrothed, dressed in her signature shade of white. The pair had gotten into a disagreement some hours earlier, regarding what their family would look like, which left him doubting she would even show up.

NOOR: The art of disappearing in plain sight was no small feat, and perhaps only possible for someone like her, someone who had spent most of her life neither truly seen or heard, glossed over as entirely unremarkable. However, the young woman had never fretted over the fact, as you could never yearn for something you had no understanding for either. The little attention Lord Blackmont paid for his means too was still startling to her at times. Though that did put her in the perfect position to see more than most. And she did just that after she’d faded into the shadows of the room, the shadows a comfort like none other for they were of her kin. The asshai by the shadow, if she was her mother’s daughter. There was once a time when her mother would question how this child of hers seemed to have so much buried light within her, perhaps she’d have been more proud to know that light was never unearthed. Her soft eyes took in the room and the threads weaving through it, where they caught and where they pulled away. Many times her gaze drifted to her liege, the tension between him and his intended palpable, and she sighed softly for she sensed no relish lay in store for him that evening. She could be wrong, she hoped she was.

OPHELIA FOWLER: This was certainly a change from the battlefields they were all just recently thrust into. Ophelia was just grateful that they'd be making their way back home soon enough. Even in all her travels to help people and the amazing places that she got to see, she always longed to be back in the comfort of Dorne. Tonight was a night she hoped would be a celebration of the new alliances and treaties. “Interesting is just another word for exciting!” she chimmed in with a smile to Eleyana as she walked in with her friend. “And new people and new things is always exciting.” Following with her friend to the passing of cordigal greetings, Ophelia recognized a few of the men there from her time in the camps. But she couldn't remember if she had healed any of them personally. Finding a moment of quiet she spoke up, “Ophelia Fowler” she said introducing herself to the rest of the Reach party. “I am sure my family will be happy to start to open the prince's pass to the Reach.” she said looking over to the rest of the Martells and her cousin, however he was busy, hoping she hadn't spoken out of turn. She was a healer at heart, not someone who was so involved in politics. “Oh..well I mean, with new talks of negotiations I hope this brings some peace between us all.”

DASTAN ALLYRION: A dinner with family and friends was a very welcomed event for the lord of Godsgrace. After the journey to escort Eleyana here, he wanted the time spent in the company of those dear to him. It was all about politics tonight, of course, as he knew it would be. Proprietary still needed to be upheld. And these people from the Reach- he should do his best to know more about their ways if everything continued to move forward regarding his future union to Lady Sofina Merryweather. Her presence was missed, he had to admit. Dastan stood by his family’s side, his father visibly absent, his mother as gracious and kind as ever when she exchanged words with the Reach folk. After the formality of introductions ended and Prince Riyansh called for everyone to take their seats at the large table, Dastan did so, eyes inevitably scanning the banquet hall for Eleyana.

RIYANSH MARTELL: As he was met with a procession of greetings from so many new faces, the odd thought struck the Prince. Was this sort of tiresome formality what kept his father so content to remain far from the affairs of Westeros. And if so it could be said that Riyansh had inherited that much from his father, where the rest of him most believed to be of his mothers. “Thank you for the gracious offer, I’m sure there shall be many occasions for us to gather again in time.” The prince bowed his head respectfully at the members of the Reach that stepped forward in greeting, providing sentiments of his pleasure at making their acquaintance, and other responses much of the same. He went on to introduce Nyssaria and Asra with the respect they garnered being his closest confidants along with Myriam. Her stepping forward to greet Cedric’s new bride with such ease prompted the gracious smile he wore to soften for just that moment when his gaze shifted to her, no one could observe the man and doubt his open and unadultered devotion to either of the two beautiful woman in his company. “I look forward to getting to know all of course further. Come let us sit.” He said addressing the Prince Regent as others wondered into conversations of their own.

CEDRIC TYRELL: Nodding graciously, the Prince of the Reach allowed the Dornish man to take a lead at the table, sitting opposite Riyansh Martell and looking around at his courtiers, all of whom seemed to naturally take their according seats at the table; he was surprised to see how effortlessly this seemed to be taking place, how little tension seemed to sweep over them. He noticed Florence speaking to the Dornish Princess, and was somewhat surprised; though he could tell she was nervously. Brushing past his wife slightly, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder for a quick moment, he took his place at the table. Though as his gaze wandered over to the Lord of Blackmont, he knew this peace could easily be put short; and very quickly, judging by the man's temper and what he saw of him during their interactions in the Riverlands.

“There is a matter I think we should all discuss.” Cedric began as a serving girl began to pour goblets of wine, looking directly at the Dornish Prince, his wives, and his sisters, before looking over at his own courtiers. They knew what they would bring up first; the biggest threat to the Reach as of this moment. “I trust you have heard rumours of a dragon nestling in our realm, beside the Red Lake.” He paused, looking over their reactions; how the Dornish had a history with dragons. “It is wild, untamed, and a threat to the fertile fields that promise to feed both the Reach and Dorne in times of hardship. It is Dorne, that never bent to dragons, and it Dorne that has the weaponry to rid the world of that threat.”

He looked over at Riyansh, though a glimmer of crimson red caught his attention for a split moment; Alyvia Rowan came into his vision, with her husband Addam Lannister at her side - a man he knew from his time spent fighting in the Westerlands for the Greens. Keeping her gaze for a moment, he tore his gaze away, though continued. “I am sure neither of us wish to see our loved ones, or our realms, perish to dragon flame again.”

HARLON FLOWERS: Harlon couldn't help but chuckle at the words Rhea whispered back to him. And after the formal greetings were done and they were making their way to the tables, he felt like he was able to respond back. “I'll have to know if this wasn't such an important meeting I might put you up to the test on that.” he said, pulling the chair out for her to take a seat. He knew what they were coming here to discuss was no joking matter. It was going to be of great importance and something that would change the kingdoms around them. Taking his seat he noticed he was sat across from one of the Martell princesses. And he could not help himself as they waited for the discussions to begin. "Good evening your Highness.” he said learning across to speak with Eleyana. “You look very beautiful tonight. I hope perhaps one day I will be allowed to come into Dorne for a portrait of the royal family. It would be an honor.” The painter smiled at the princess as  he was able to speak briefly before Cedric started. Leaning back in his seat, he gave a nod to Rhea as he listened to his new soon to be king's careful words. “A dragon is more than a threat to just our kingdoms but it seems to fall into our laps as responsibility.”

RHEA FLORENT: She was content to see the Martell princess, someone the Florent lady quickly found to be one of the most worthy allies present. A clever woman, too. Regardless of alliances, Eleyana was the sort of person the Mistress of Whispers respected despite titles and formalities. “It is quite nice to see you again, your Grace,” the lady spoke politely, though a smile did cross her lips. Introductions aside, and knowing of Cedric’s intention to bring about talk of dragons and the scorpions, Rhea turned once again to speak whispered words to Harlon as he pulled out a chair for her. “That would be interesting. A futile thing to test, if you ask me, but interesting all the same”. She didn’t intend to pass tonight’s event drunk or anything close to it. On the contrary, her mind needed to be sharp tonight. But a bit of wine wouldn’t hurt to better endure the stuffiness of it all. As she got to witness Harlon’s passion for painting be so present again, and then speaking up in support of Cedric, she couldn’t help but smile subtly as she finally brought a glass of wine to her lips. “Indeed. We must be proactive in order to protect our realms. And it is only a matter of time before its Targaryen owners wish to claim it back, your Grace”. And that was a bigger threat than a lone dragon on the Reach.

MYRIAM ALLYRION: Myriam nodded in a quiet understanding with the new Princess of the Reach, deciding to drop the matter, though it is something the woman would keep in mind to address later; for is the Princess of their allied region prepared for court life? Would she be able to handle their joint enemies, that would no doubt be threatened by such an alliance? “Come.” She mused, motioning for Florence to sit beside her, seeing if she felt comfortable enough to be separated from her husband. Talk of the dragons caused her gaze to rise, watching as her brother Dastan entered the room, and how she momentarily offered him the warmest smile. Though they were not siblings by blood, she was taken in by the Allyrions after they found her floating down the river in a basket; and truly saved her. She remembered the day Dastan was born. “A dragon is a risk.” She spoke, agreeing to that extent. “Though it is also a risk for us to anger the Crownlands once again, especially now we have levelled out somewhat; with the alliance between the Crownlands and the Stormlands, no doubt Dorne and the Reach would be embroiled in conflict with the pair, directly on our borders.”

ELEYANA MARTELL: Eleyana simply nodded at the Mistress of Whispers in agreement as the group was seated. She observed each polite gesture and each polite smile exchanged between the Martells and Tyrells. Her attention turned to Harlon Flowers as hazel orbs fixed upon the man. “Thank you. That's very kind of you to say,” she smiled at the man she had only heard rumors about. “Please, the honor would be mine if you decide to make the journey to Sunspear. We would all enjoy your company.” Eleyana turned to see the remaining guests still entering the hall, her attention peaked as she locked eyes with Dastan. In the midst of all this heavy discussion it was a comfort for her to see him here.

Eleyana listened intently to the Tyrell prince as he spoke of the impending threat of dragons in Westeros. He was right. The Dornish never bent to dragons in the past and she intended that they never would. She turned to Myriam, her brow furrowed. “A dragon is not only a risk. It's a threat. I'm sure we can all agree that the presence of a dragon in Westeros will only threaten everything that both of our kingdoms have been able to accomplish."

RIYANSH MARTELL: Once the gathered courtiers had settled around the table, Riyansh’s attention fixed on the man sitting across from him, as Cedric wasted no time on further pleasantries, for which he was glad. Riyansh was never one to assert his opinion over others, he allowed others speak their mind on he matter before he responded, “A risk or threat, call it what you will it’s all one in the same. The beast challenges the frayed balance Westeros has achieved after a decade of war. Dorne remained neutral as the conflict was never over our autonomy. We do not wish to be a part of any united empire, nor an alliance that threatens our neutrality. Dorne does not wish to encroach on the lands of those beyond our borders and we expect the same of our neighbors. Thus it’s imperative that we reach an agreement that doesn’t outrage the ‘blacks’ beyond reason. That being said, I believe we can all agree that the creature can not be allowed to remain unchained, falling into the hands of those that can sway its nature.”

RYON BLACKMONT: Ryon Blackmont, shifting his attention from the turmoil he felt happening within the depths of his heart, listened closely to the talks regarding the fate of the dragon. The Lord of Blackmont had heard much of their power, their fury, their deadly nature, even within his own homelands; though he knew that the Dornish knew how to handle dragons. Listening to the words of Riyansh, he understood partly where the man was coming from - though talk regarding not outraging the Blacks fully was one he thought unrealistic considering they were essentially speaking of murdering the last remnant of Targaryen glory left in the world. “There will be outrage on their behalf, especially after ending the life of the beast they consider a pet.” Ryon spoke, his tone characteristically blunt. He knew there was no way to avoid angering the Targaryens; they were of different temperamensts, but dragons, nonetheless. “There are Scorpions at Blackmont, which can be transported to the Reach easily due to our closer proximity.” Ryon began, speaking of times where the machines were delivered to the vassal houses at the border, for them to fire at the majestic beasts in the sky the minute they crossed into Dornish land. “Say the word, and I'll arrange for them to be transported.”

LOREZA MARTELL: Loreza is unsettled by the tense topic of conversation. The princess isn't quite sure what it is she can contribute, as military feats were out of her realm of expertise. Her only thoughts? There is no way to go about this that wouldn't upset the fragile balance that had been created. Killing the beast would be seen as a direct threat, both from the Reach and Dorne. Of course, Riyansh is right-- leaving such a creature completely free was a danger in itself. As she sees it, there is no way to go about this situation that doesn't result in conflict. “Is there no other solution?” she asks, curious to see if there is something she hasn't considered. “I just mean.. I do not see how the use of the scorpions will not lead to another conflict.” The idea of Crownlands soldiers advancing on her homeland makes her shudder.

MATHIS ROWAN: Mathis sat and took in all the opinions that went around the table. He preferred to listen rather than talk when the topic was as conflicting as this one. As often as he was quite quick-tempered and fiery, he made she to water himself down for the sake of Cedric and this alliance. He decided after his potential future betrothed spoke her piece, he would offer his opinion on the matter. “If I was speaking only for myself, I would say the best option is to kill the beast.” He took a deep breath before speaking again. “However perhaps the best course of action is to sit down and have a meeting with the blacks. Perhaps we can find a neutral third party to mediate this situation. Maybe it's possibly the dragon can be caged in a place that's not solely accessible to the Targaryen's.” He knew how hard Dorne worked to keep it's borders secure from battle, and truthfully he didn't want things to escalate to that if they could all help it.

CEDRIC TYRELL: Cedric listened carefully to the words of Mathis, his mind thinking of the joyful pair of young men on the road, backpacks on and ale in hand; how the world had changed so much around them. In that moment, Cedric knew he had made the right choice in making Mathis Rowan his hand; there was a reason the pair had always worked so well together. “I see your points completely, and I do think it would be wise to sit and talk - though keep our hopes grounded. The Targaryens will not accept being separated from what they consider their legacy; not after they have already lost so much. They have nothing to lose, and thus, are more volatile.” He looked over at Loreza, understanding where she was coming from; they had always looked for another way, and that is how they ended up together. “We can try and make a deal; but they will not accept us owning the last of their legacy.”

He paused somewhat. “We must think carefully about who we approach regarding the topic; though for objectivity sake, I'd say the North or the Vale would be best.”

GUINEVERE LANNISTER: Guinevere looked over at her Tyrell in laws, her eyes lingering somewhat on Helena, remembering how just a few days ago her own hands were stained with the blood of the birthing bed. She would speak with her after this was over, but for now, they had their own roles to play. Looking over at Mathis and Loreza, one being the brother of her oldest friend and the other being a friend she had never counted on making from such a mysterious land she was soon to call home, Guinevere leaned forward slightly, almost mirroring Ryon's stature.

“Whilst Blackmont can provide Scorpions, one would have to think of the border fighting that would occur as a result of a sudden attack. Lord Rowan is right in approach to at least express your intentions, and allow the other to make a deal; even if our minds are already made up.” Although the Westerlands would always remain her home, she would not wish for her new home to be at the end of a dragon's wrath; especially considering Blackmont was at the border.

The North or the Vale? She hesitated for a moment, wondering whether it was even her place to say; and yet, she felt as though she owed Loreza another way - just as she had asked. “The Vale.” Guinevere suggested, taking a light sip of the bitter Dornish red. “The Kings of the regions are incredibly close; the Arryn King is your best bet to hoping Daemon Targaryen sees reason.” She may not have known that, but alas, it was useful to their cause.

OPHELIA FOWLER: As the group began taking their seats, in the corner of the room she spotted Noor in the corner of the room. Alone as she usually was when she visited. Excusing herself from her friend the healer made her way towards the other. “Come sit with me” she offered, taking her hand to lead her over towards the table. Ophelia hoped for a little time of pleasant talks before dealing with more serious conversation. And as talk of dragons was certainly not what she was thinking of when she pictured serious conversations. “We are debating about killing a dragon?” she said, more to herself thank anything else. But her eyes did glance around the table to some of the others present. “We just finished fighting one battle do we really want to get into another one?” she said. “There must be some way we could resolve this peacefully.” If a fight were to break out she could only think of her family guarding the prince's pass and the borders. The last thing she wanted was for them to be in danger.

RHEA FLORENT: Rhea found herself agreeing with the Martell prince, which she considered to be a positive thing. The fact that Riyansh Martell could see the potential threat of a dragon being used to serve the purposes of those who could tame it meant that the possibility of the alliance between the two realms was beginning on concurrent, common ground. Different opinions were spoken by the various members in attendance at the dinner. Those who wished to remain passive and not alter the Targaryen fiery temperament by harming their deadly pet. Those who wished to be more diplomatic and settle everything with spoken arrangements with the Blacks. It didn’t sound too bad in theory. The Targaryens being willingly to keep their dragons chained, imprisoned, though? Perhaps an exception would arise if such a conversation took place in order to find a solution. Rhea seriously doubted it, though. Fire and Blood was their motto, and she couldn’t imagine them being willing to keep their fire locked up, hidden away. It was their pride, wasn’t it? One didn’t think of the Targaryens without thinking about dragons as well. “I agree with my cousin on this matter. They see dragons differently than the rest of us do, they mean something to them. Their legacy. Their pride. Their identity. Whatever you want to call it,” she made a brief pause. No one in this room would willingly give up any of that, so it was rather foolish for them to expect the Targaryens would. “A conflict is sure to arise. Let us at least pick the sort of conflict it will be, one that is the least threatening one for us all”.

NOOR: When Ophelia spotted her and came forward Noor offered her a soft smile, though her eyes flashed weariness at her offer to join her, though before Noor could find the words to refuse she was already out of the shadows and the last thing she wanted was her refusal rousing anymore attention, so she remained silent after muttering a small thank you to her listening on. A dragon, alive and well, but for how long by the sounds of the discussion unfurling in the room. Her heart felt heavy at the thought of an innocent creature being put to death because there were those in the world that believed all forms of life were at their disposal to abuse for their own self fulfillment. She thought of the innumerable stories she’d heard throughout her life. Stories told to her, and spoken about in her presence. In every corner of the world the eastern continent she’d wound up in. There were stories of the dragons emerging from shadows and shadow spells that could bind them. Boastings of dragon horns being the prized possessions of so many great coffers, masters who boasted of possessing the horns that could compel the creatures though to little avail as they likely would never get the chance for how few of the beasts that remained in the world. But sure those tales were not what they all wanted to be relayed, many tales that even Noor was loathe to remember for the bitter memories that came with. Her face grew troubled over all the talk as she glanced over at Lord Blackmont.

ADDAM LANNISTER: Addam took a sip of his wine, making a small face toward Guinevere as he did so. As he listened to the others discuss how best to handle the dragon, he found that he both agreed and disagreed with all of them. “Our kingdoms will be better without the wings of dragons flying overhead,” he remarked carefully, tapping his fingers on the table in front of him. “And I agree that it should most certainly be put down. A scorpion is a viable option.” He leaned back then as he considered his next words. He had seen much of war, had seen the way the kings interacted in the Vale. “But if we were to kill a Targaryen dragon, we would find ourselves at war with more than just the Crownlands. The Vale and the North would certainly take up arms; are they not allied with the Dragon King?” He looked at Guinevere once more. “Why would you choose to approach the Vale instead of the North?” he inquired. “Because Arryn has the Targaryen ear?” He exhaled. “And, while I would never presume to know how the others govern themselves, I have to ask... would the Targaryens even agree about what to do with the dragon if they were inclined to see it gone?”

ALYVIA LANNISTER: When the connection was broken, Alyvia felt as if she could breath once more. The earlier whirlwind of emotions gave way to one lasting sentiment that was of anger. At who, she could not be certain. Perhaps herself, and her treacherously foolish heart that had gone an attached itself to the Prince in her youth, shutting down when it was unable to cope with the abrupt departure from any future she’d envisioned with the man. For the past seven years she’d put the thought of Cedric Tyrell out her mind. Faced with him for the first time since she hadn’t been able to remain unfazed no matter what her better senses willed. And for that she was furious with herself. Seated with her friend and Lord Blackmont at the far side of the table, she was nearly grateful for the talk of dragonslaying as it was the perfect distraction to put aside her conflicting emotions.

Her brothers train of thought was sound, though others were not wrong about the dragonlords not keeping their word. It was in their very nature not to. “No one can rise above their very nature, not the beasts nor their riders. Handing them the creature would be offering the low hanging fruit, both the temptation and prize to be won with it’s use too great. The beast is half the worry, it’s the hellfire it can spew that’s really the problem. It’s a shame no one has ever found a way to put a stopper on that nuisance.”

GUINEVERE LANNISTER: “Any man who tries to fiddle with the anatomy of a living dragon will soon find himself ashes; there is no way in ridding it of the flame.” Was it cruel for her to wish such a creature dead? There was a time where they were the most majestic of beasts in all Westeros; and yet it seemed as though the generation following them would have nothing but bones to gaze upon. Perhaps it was cruel, and Guinevere felt somewhat for the loss of a part of history; but history was being rewritten, and a new chapter of independent sovereignty was being created.

“Because the Arryn King is the best bet in hoping Daemon Targaryen and his sisters see reason.” Guinevere replied to her distant cousin, repeating her last words - one can interpret what they mean by the statement. The beast would have to die, though she would avoid war for the sake of it landing upon her head at the Dornish borders. “And the North does not involve itself in Southern affairs.”

ELEYANA MARTELL: Eleyana looked over at her sister. She understood Loreza's perspective on this matter, but this was not a simple trade agreement over silks and pomegranates. The implications of a Targaryen dragon in Westeros would be deadly for every person no matter their kingdom. It would hardly matter the riches that each family held if they were all burned to a crisp. “It's clear that Daemon Targaryen is desperate to rebuild the Crownlands. So desperate he even reached out the Martells for a possible trade alliance.” The princess swirled the wine in her cup before taking a sip. She knew her idea of using her brother's scorpions to kill the dragon was not the most favorable by the group but she needed to at least plead her case. "If he gets a hold of a dragon I have no doubt he will do everything in his power to regain his family's reputation.”

ADDAM LANNISTER: He turned toward his cousin — distant though the relation was — with a tilt of his head. The wine goblet remained on the table, Addam much preferring another varietal than the one currently being served “I do not disagree with the assessment, though the North will have to involve itself in Southern affairs if the beast is killed.” He nearly chuckled at the thought of Rodrik Stark marching his banners South because a dragon had been killed. “Would there be a problem in approaching both the North and the Vale? If two of his allies were in agreement, Daemon Targaryen would certainly have to take notice, sigil or not.”

RIYANSH MARTELL: As pressing a discussion as this was, the few options they had been said, and they were all now going in circles around the topic, there was nothing more constructive coming from it. “It appears we’ve all come to the agreement that putting the creature to death though perhaps the most desired outcome would not be the wisest. We’ve only just encroached on a period of peace, to shatter it without attempting to find common ground would not be wise. Rowan Arryn is a reasonable man to my understanding, and I agree that taking him in our confidence in this matter may prove useful. In an effort to contain the matter, I would suggest you and I meet with our host before we depart from the Vale to discern where his resolution falls, and how he may be able to aid us in this matter.”

CEDRIC TYRELL: Cedric nodded, hearing the quiet conversation between the pair of golden haired Lannisters, wondering how is it that family seemed to find themselves in most of Westeros these days in some way or another. The man knew to approach the Mountain King regarding this matter could be a touchy one, considering the closeness between the two men, though Cedric could only hope the wellbeing of all the realms reigned supreme. “It is done then.” The man agreed, looking over at Ryon Blackmont. “Ready the Scorpions for shipment in advance regardless.”

He looked over at the Vale and Reach courtiers once again, resting his hands together atop the table, feeling the distant gaze of someone he once used to know. “Is there anything else any of you wish to discuss?” He asked, opening the floor to conversation if need be.

RIYANSH MARTELL: Now that they had chosen their course on the matter of the Dragon, it was time to discuss the betrothal. “The resolution of this matter has by no means been reached, however, I am glad to know we all are in agreement about the mutual threat the beast poses. There is another matter yes. I’ve already spoken to Lord Rowan on this matter, as well as my dearest sister. As you know the sanctity of marriage has often become the great foundation for alliances. Thus I have offered my sisters hand in marriage to Lord Mathis, the hope their union can fundamentally ground this unprecedented alliance between our lands.”

HARLON FLOWERS: Holy shit this was really happening. After all this discussion and wondering between the people of the Reach it seemed like a plan was formally going forward. The thoughts of dragons taking to the skies once again was enough to give just about anyone nightmares. The destruction brought on these kingdoms from these creatures was enough for two lifetimes. No more was needed. And hopefully if everything went according to their plan, nothing more would happen. He had to put his faith that Daemon and Caerella could be reasoned with. A slight smile was on his face as he realized the idea had a chance of working. Reaching over to grab one of the Dornish wines he poured himself a rather tall glass before filling up Rhea's as well. “Maybe time for that bet to start now.” He smiled at her. giving a small cheers to the news of a possible engagement. "Well that is certainly a much more cheerful topic” he said looking over towards his friend Mathis.

RHEA FLORENT: So, after all the talking, no real solution had been agreed upon. At the very least the general consensus was that the dragon was a threat that needed to be handled sooner rather than later. She glanced briefly towards her cousin, wanting to get a read of him after the discussion. The Mistress of Whispers had been nursing her glass of wine here and there as the conversation between the attendees took place and she smirking slightly as Harlon filled it up to the top after pouring himself a rather large drink. Are you sure? she seemed to ask with the amused look she gave him. “A bet, then. I thought it was merely a test,” she tilted her head a bit to the side “What are we betting?”. The news of Mathis betrothal soon followed and Rhea turned to her cousin's Hand, raising her glass. “Congratulations for the groom-to be,” she smiled, “May this union make you a happy a man,” she said with sincerity, wishing for more than simple political gain as the result of the marriage.

[purplerose244]

Lighten up

Here’s my fic for the @mlsecretsanta! So happy I joined in this year too, it’s one of my favorite events!! 😍 Hi @xlexicx! ❤ I’m your secret santa! Here’s my present for you, I hope you like it! Merry Christmas!! 😊😊

Summary: Take the high road, do not intervene. That was what Adrien said, to his friend and to himself. Then again, Chat Noir said none of that. And he really didn't like seeing Marinette sad.

Also on AO3

How to make the worst Christmas Eve, by Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Ingredients.

Seven days filled with plenty of akuma attacks, as fresh as possible, dripping with exhaustion. A couple of extremely busy hours to finish the dress to bring to the party, whipped consistently with stress and pressure considering all the important figures that were going to see it. And a big handful of disappointment, because while trying her best to ignore how out of place she was feeling during such an event – at least without wearing her special pois suit –, Marinette had almost forgotten the golden boy to add to the situation, or to be precise it was Adrien himself that hadn’t been able to come. Because that was what gave this terrible night its distinct disappointing taste.

“I can tell you all about him, he’s even more charming when he’s not into his suit!” A whistle in his ear. Lila was marching in the middle of the ballroom, waving around her black dress, the feathers on the hair pin over her head, and her long innocent eyelashes, followed by some of Marinette’s most precious friends. “He said he got in like a breeze even without getting recognized, I guess this party could only be that exclusive since even Marinette could get the tickets! Oh, but I’m still grateful!” She waved at her, grinning widely.

Right, she forgot one important part of this disgraceful recipe, an extremely generous sprinkle of lies all over. Better of hypocritical origins. She clenched her hand around her glass, the drink raised up a little. She was starting to wish he got the Cat Miraculous.

Just for the sake of a good old Cataclysm.

Marinette forced her grimace into a smile, for the sake of Alya, Rose, Nino and Juleka all orbiting around the star of the night. Yeah, of course she was. Even though it was the stylist who got the tickets from Jagged as a little Christmas present, it was all about that liar once again. She didn’t even know why she was surprised anymore.

“You’re welcome…”  More unique was, the latest idea the brunette had come up with to grab attention. And that one was even more out of the line than her usual.

“You guys, I’m really thirsty, and I saw Chat pretty tired too. I’m gonna take a little break, have something to drink.” Lila snapped at her friends one of those insanely studied, absurdly accurate, innocent smiles. “I would never want my date to get tired, especially since he’s a superhero in disguise! Oh, sorry, I raised my voice but remember that this stays between us, right?” She did her bat of eyelashes, she did her little wave of her hair that was meant to be annoying only to those who knew her – ergo, only this everyday Ladybug at the moment –, and leaving her excited friends behind she headed straight towards the drink station.

Right where Marinette was. Oh no, not another war declaration. When she had decided to come to this party despite knowing her sixth ticket would had gone to her, she had promised herself not to cause an argument and to stay as far away as possibly from her. Something that Lila had deliberately decided to ignore considering how she was pondering on what to drink while giving her the smuggest look, like she had just discovered Hawk Moth’s identity and wanted her to beg for it.

Hawk Moth had to be busy today. With all the evil intentions that the stylist was feeling right now, she could had become three different akumas. Then, her phone vibrated from her purse. She read the name, and all darkness dissipated immediately. Her heart was melting way before reading.

“Getting to my rescue, my prince?” She whispered, checking the new notifications.

Adrien had sent her Nino’s video first, that alone brought a smile to her face. The DJ had been absolutely adamant that he made at least a little film about the party, to show the blonde that they were all hoping he was going to recover soon. For once that he would had been allowed to attempt to an event that had happened to include a few friends of his, he had to faint a day after the end of school for Christmas break. Exhaustion. If it hadn’t made so much sense she would had been so much angrier. And she was fuming. She was mad, and furious, and sad, and all of the sudden Christmas felt so unfair. Like after being unfairly negated so many things in life, Adrien had to be stopped by a cold.

More messages followed.

Adrien: I’m glad everyone’s having fun.

Adrien: I hope the night gets better for you, you look tense.

Adrien: See you soon :)

Of course, she had made quite a face, since Lila had started to talk about her supposed relationship with her partner. Also of course, complete goo heart. Along with a deep sadness.

An angel. Even now, while forced under the cover of his bed – with those lovely cheeks all red and lucid gorgeous eyes and perfect lips and dang Mari stop it –, like he hadn’t been stuck into his own room enough to last him for a lifetime, even now he had taken the time to worry about her. He was worried about her. What a wonderful, sweet, caring, so lovable, unbelievably kind-

“Well hello Marinette, grabbing something to drink too?” Awful, hypocritical, incredibly annoying liar that had dared to interrupt her mental praises towards her beloved Adrien. Lila put herself right next, grabbing a glass herself, wearing that smirk on top of her lips. “I am too, I’m so tired, you have no idea! I didn’t know admitting my relationship with Chat Noir was going to cause all of this fuss! I guess these people really drink whatever you tell them…” It had to bring some kind of relief to her, not having to lie to Marinette since she was perfectly aware how little integrity the brunette had in her. Then again, who knew if even this manipulative face wasn’t another lie. If it turned out under all those veils there was absolutely nothing underneath, the stylist would had believed it.

She knew engaging her was a bad idea. Take the high road, like Adrien said.

But then she noticed a little necklace hanging over the black dress. With a round bell on it. And it was enough. She put the glass down to not crush it out of frustration.

“What do you want to get out of this?”

“I’m so glad you asked, you know what feels even better than seeing you hopelessly trying to prove to everyone that I’m wrong?” Yep, good call on the glass. “Thinking of that pathetic pois superhero discovering on the Ladyblog, because let’s be real Alya can’t keep her big mouth shut even for a second, that her beloved partner is going out with the girl she hates so much.” Lila hummed with satisfaction, sipping her drink, sighing delightfully. “Two birds with one stone, bella! She won’t be able to prove it wrong either, because the stupid doesn’t even know Chat Noir’s real identity!”

Marinette had always thought that her normal life and her superhero life were separated by one giant wall in between. Then this girl had come along, managing to get all the hate from the both of sides, making her feel like double herself, and double the need for vengeance.

She tightened her fists, glaring at her.

“This is dangerous, Lila! Their identities are important, their lives are! It’s one thing messing with me or our classmates, but they’re the heroes that save us every day!”

“So glad to hear your opinion, the one I don’t care about. Well then, I think I’ll go meet with my date, Chat Noir.” Lila giggled, pointing at a random guy. “Could it be him? Or maybe him? I’m the only one who knows, after all!” She laughed, Marinette grunted. “Maybe him? How about him?”

Not her kitty. Not her partner. Not her l-

“I might have a good guess.” One cheerful, sassy, unmistakable voice erupted between them. “But please keep going, don’t let me stop you. After all, when the cat’s away, the mice will play!” Chat Noir winked at Marinette, most likely hinting at that short time of her as Multimouse. Which would had been very annoying yet kinda witty, if she hadn’t been this shocked to see him.

To see him… like this.

The mask was there as usual, the ruffled hair and the pulsing eyes too. But that wasn’t his usual costume, at least not completely. He was rocking a full black suit tailored like it had been made just for him, yet the gentle shine over the cloth and the clawed gloves still present gave it away that it was still part of his normal superhero attire. He had a bright green tie with a minuscule fantasy that looked like many tiny Cataclysms one next to each other, and his usual reinforced shoes looked less rough and more refined.

He looked good. Something about Chat Noir’s confident attitude and that certain egomaniac tendency gave it away how in a proper suit he would had looked pretty great, but this was real. This was actually happening, and Marinette found herself catching her breath.

Luckily – for once in her life and only this once –, Lila was there as well.

“Chat Noir?!?” Oh, that horrified, overwhelmed face made the stylist’s night. That perfect satisfied face cracked violently, and she was frozen on the spot.

“Oh my, it is him!!” Unluckily, for once for Lila, Alya had a special filter in her ear for scoops and even from the other side of the room she managed to hear – also the brunette had erupted into a pretty impressive and delightfully scared squeak. “You actually showed up in your costume, what happened to the secrecy? Don’t worry, I know about yours and Lila’s situation, and I promise it’s between very close friends!” She had the recorder out already, pointed out like a weapon, looking oh so hopeful.

Chat Noir grinned, flashing a wink at the phone Nino was holding up to record the scene.

“You know I’m always up for a special interview for the Ladyblog, Alya.” The holder of the fox Miraculous brightened. “But I’m gonna need a heads up, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.” And just as fast the glimmer died down, turning into a frown. She put a hand over her hip, her peach-colored dress wrapped tight around her torso.

“Come on, do you really have to make it difficult? I don’t actually know your identity, although I did have a look around knowing you were somewhere.” A snort.

“Yeah I was somewhere, somewhere else. You do realize I just arrived, right?”

“Of coooouuurse, you just arriiiiived.” Alya winked at him. The cat superhero stared at her blankly, taking his time to fill a glass and empty it pretty quickly. He did look pretty tired now, like he did quite the run. “… you were here as a civilian, right? You even sent those little notes to Lila, saying how beautiful she was and all the rest!” The journalist held the recorder with one hand and picked up something from her pocket. A little green note saying ‘love the feathers, you look like a queen. CN.’. And wow, Marinette could at least compliment how shameless the brunette had been.

Chat Noir peaked over it, frowning.

“… Alya I signed stuff for you, you know that’s not my handwriting.” The journalist hummed uncertainly, like she did have that thought. “Besides, as I said, I wasn’t here. I arrived now.”

“Oh you don’t have to lie Chat Noir!” At last Lila came back from whatever world she had been stuck on, pulling off that obnoxiously wide smile right towards her kitty, huh, this kitt- the kitty! “But I understand that you’re not ready, so don’t make too much of it, forget about it and enjoy the night!” Of course she couldn’t give up, it was never that easy with her.

The cat superhero simply smirked, filling his glass again.

“Thank you Lila, a very warm welcome. How about you give the same to Officer Roger and Mr. Ramier over there?” Next to the mayor, chatting happily, where the two named that had in fact appeared only in that moment. Sabrina was greeting her father with a big hug. “We had a pretty tough moment back there, they got into another argument over pigeons and laws, luckily we managed to arrive to a compromise before things escalated. Bet Hawk Moth bite his Miraculous over this one!” He snickered, emptying another cup with a satisfied sigh.

Trying to solve a conflict through words and a plan instead of destroying everything, that sounded like the Ladybug way. And there he was, her – the – kitty, looking all happy about it like he was thinking of her proud owner petting his head.

A smile came on its own, Marinette couldn’t help it, and maybe didn’t want to.

“Great job, Chat Noir.” The superhero beamed at her. Adrien’s eyes were pure and breathtaking, but the unnatural beauty of these was impressive too. So very pretty.

Alya looked like she had half the forehead from how hard she was frowning.

“But Lila said you’ve talked all night together…”

“We did! He’s just covering it up!!” Lila’s voice raised of one octave at least, judging from how hard Chat Noir had winced being right next to her. The brunette smiled at him, batting her deer-like eyelashes. “Chat, I know what’s going on, you still feel like you own something to Ladybug. But you got hurt so much by her already, and this is not fair! Don’t you think you deserve better?” She scooted closer, raising a hand over him. “Come here, come to someone that can give you what you want.” Okay was Marinette really the only one who thought this was getting weird?

Apparently not, from how promptly the cat superhero had dodged the touch. He was suddenly extremely tense, a very wary smile on his face, hands raised like he was surrendering. Somehow his usual goofiness looked almost charming today…

Or that was the suit. Yeah, definitely the suit.

“Now there, I know I’m irresistible, but I really don’t think you should get any closer.”

“Why would you get away? Do you hate me? Prove me you don’t and get over here!” Lila tried to grab him again, but it was too easy for him. “Ladybug doesn’t even love you, why all this fuss??”

“Lila, I’m telling you, it’s better for you to stay awa-”

“I said get back here!!”

“Nope, no way!”

What a weird scene, an angry fox chasing a cat in the middle of the ballroom of the most luxurious hotel of Paris, surrounded by guests now very aware of the commotion happening. Their friends, guests, celebrities, even the mayor was starting to get worried. Marinette spotted Rose and Juleka, with the former all saddened by the fight between two people that she knew and probably wanted to get along – predictable –, and Luka along with Chloe and Kagami, with the rich girl absolutely living through this – predictable and relatable.

As a fairly common scene, Chat managed at the end to step on his own tail and struggle to stay up, right as Lila finally managed to land onto his chest with a grin.

“See everyone? It was simply a little fight between sweethearts, nothing to-”

Marinette could confidently say that, in her life, she had witnessed plenty of extremely satisfying moments. Saving her city every day along with her trusty partner while helping the people she loved? Awesome. Stepping up as her own person thanks to the confidence given from being Ladybug and getting to leave a mark into her life? Incredible. Spending occasional but so precious time with the love of her life knowing that with every single moment spent together, the chance of becoming something more became at least somehow possible? Priceless.

But this one, this very specific moment when Chat Noir scowled visibly and then sneezed, loudly and very grossly, right into Lila’s face, this one could take the cake. She had never seen such a perfect sequence of moments happening in her life.

The brunette screamed, panting in pure shock, as the hero wiped his nose.

“I tried to warn you, achoo!” He took two steps back, waving his hand at her. “I’m super allergic to feathers, and you’re wearing a hair pin full of it! I couldn’t stay near you if I wanted to!” It had some weird effect, this suited up Chat sniffing with his head up in desperate search for a tissue. Both extremely him and endearing, to the point Marinette cracked a laugh when the research was fruitful and the superhero blew loudly into a paper towel.

With the white feathers on her head, the nasty green of her eyes and the absolute flushed face of her, Lila looked one with the flag of her country. For a second. One extremely Italian second.

Then, of course, the waterfalls arrived.

“That was so mean of you, you should’ve at least warned me!” Chat Noir’s simple retort was a large grimace that said ‘I tried to’ quite clearly, but the brunette was into her part now. “I thought you were kind and special, but you’re just a jerk! You wanna make me look bad! I should’ve known! Right Alya?” She turned around to get her friend’s support.

Only to meet with something that for luck of fate, when she had first transferred in their school, Lila Rossi hadn’t managed to encounter: Alya Cesaire’s inquisitory glare.

“Wait a second.” She lowered her recorder without switching it off, stepping forward with one foot. “If he’s allergic there’s no way he talked to you or even got close to you tonight! All along you told me you were chatting with him… Lila… were you lying?”

Marinette could hardly believe it. She stared, agape, but never as much as the actual liar.

“I wasn’t! Of course not, he’s making that up to make me look bad! I don’t know why he’s pulling up all of this act, he’s probably getting manipulated by Ladybug to make me look bad! And here I thought she was a friend! Besides, I bet he’s pretending the allergy!”

“Excuse me, miss.” Completely out of nowhere none other than Mr. Ramier appeared, along with Roger and Sabrina, with the latter immediately running towards Chloe – with eyes sparkling like stars at the sight of her best friend’s two chaperones. “But if I may interject, there’s no way Chat Noir is lying about his allergy. I would know, since I get akumatized quite often and he’s forced to endure my pidgeons all the time. Very sorry about it by the way.” The gentleman looked at the cat hero, who got another tissue kindly offered by Rose and simply waved his hand like it was not a big deal. Which was fair, Mr. Pidgeon wasn’t nearly the most menacing threat ever – a bit of routine in the mess that was their lives was actually nice sometimes.

That same sweet blonde and helpful girl with the pink dress gasped all of the sudden, tears shining in her eyes. Actual, genuine drops, unlike someone else’s.

“You said the feathers were artificial, that your grandma was running a charity association that wanted to erase everything made by animals in the fashion world!!” Her lip covered in peach gloss quivered vividly. “I can’t believe you would lie about that, Marinette was right!” She turned to the stylist, who couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “I’m so sorry Marinette, I should’ve known!” Juleka from behind her nodded, looking sorry.

Lila gasped, again in her overly dramatic way, shaking her head.

“How could you say that? You know I would never lie, you know me! I… I…” Marinette should had seen it coming, as soon as those vengeful eyes got stuck on her. “It’s all Marinette’s fault!” Crocodile tears once again, the stylist didn’t even have it in her to be annoyed. “She wants to make me look bad, she did ever since I came here! I don’t know why she hates me so much!” There was such a long list into her diary, but the stylist felt like it wasn’t necessary. Her friends looked doubtful. Like they were on her side again. “And you’re trying to make me feel bad, I could get akumatized! How could you?”

“You do realize I’m right here, right?” Chat Noir grinned at her, getting closer to Marinette. “I could easily take care of you while Ladybug gets here, no problem. So go along, get crazy.” Wow, Ladybug would had not approved that. Good thing she wasn’t here.

“Did Marinette drag you into this?? She is the worst!!”

“No way, Marinette’s the best! She made these awesome shades of mine!” Out of nowhere Jagged Stone interjected, cocking a wink to her favorite designer who couldn’t help the little giggle – the frequency he showed those glasses reminded her of her dad whenever she accomplished anything. “Girl the way you’re talking to her is totally not rock and roll, who do you think you are??” The Rockstar glared. And so did Fang behind him, showing all of his teeth.

All colors drained from Lila’s face, as she pointed at the rockstar.

“What- Why- He isn’t supposed to…!”

“Oh yeah, didn’t I tell you?” Chat Noir seemed to be trying his best to contain his smug aura. “Another reason I got here this late, I thought of inviting Jagged and prince Ali! Isn’t it great? They’re usually super busy and not really into random celebrations, but it turns out they’re more than happy to participate knowing one of their heroes is here. What do you know?”

Lila was at loss, going with startled eyes from the celebrity in front of her, to the royalty not too far, to the people staring judgily at her. She opened her mouth to speak, try more covers, but Alya’s lips smack interrupt her. The journalist looked like she finally had enough, turning to Jagged.

“A question. You don’t know Lila, do you?”

“This girl? Definitely not.”

“So you never wrote her a song because she saved your cat?”

“Pff, a cat? I’m allergic to cats, and I hate them, they’re so unfriendly! Well, most of them, Chat Noir is pretty cool.” Another wink was thrown at the superhero, who cocked finger guns at the superstar. It looked oddly appropriate between these two.

Alya grabbed her head between her hands, groaning loudly.

“I can’t believe it, I… I’m so stupid. Marinette.” Her eyes were so gloomy, so different from her usual self. It made them trustworthy, despite everything. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve believed you right away. I promise I’ll make up for all I did. In the meantime…” With a quick gesture, as quick as Rena Rouge would had done it, Alya grabbed Lila’s arm and dragged her forward. “We’re gonna make sure you don’t know prince Ali too, and find out where in the world where you during your vacation since, you know, it looks like you missed school without a reason! And all of my interviews on the Ladyblog, ooooh, you’re in big trouble girl!!”

“No!! Let me go!! Marinette’s lying!!” The image of the perfect girl crumbled right away, as Lila started to pull such a tantrum that Manon would had felt embarrassed for her. “It’s all Ladybug’s fault! Or Marinette’s! Or both!! And Chat Noir’s!! It’s their fault, not mine, they’re the liars! I’m not a liar! I’M NOT A LIAR!!” And like that she was dragged away without mercy, like a criminal finally getting brought to justice.

People followed the scene, Rose and Juleka still looking sorry, Nino as well while making sure his girlfriend wasn’t going to straight up murder Lila. And Marinette stayed where she was, looking at them as the prince turned around, and another tantrum was born from the exposed liar.

After five full seconds of silence, Chat Noir blew his nose into the tissue once again, so loudly nearby guests gave him weirded out looks.

But not Marinette, no. She burst into laughter.

“Oh my gosh, it actually happened! Karma happened! A Christmas miracle!” She had to wipe a tear, more relieved than happy in reality. “If this is a dream please don’t wake me up, I wanna live in this world forever!” And in that precise moment the music changed, a slow rhythm that made her smile incredulously. “Wow, really? This night everything is meant to go just right, huh.” She giggled again, pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. She turned towards the hero, her actual hero, finding him staring at her. The mask covered most of his face, but was that a blush?

“… then it would be a pity going against the flow, right?” Chat Noir smirked, bowing in front of her and extending a gloved hand. “May I have this dance?”

Marinette gaped at him.

“Me?”

“This superhero has every intention to dance with the prettiest girl of the night, yeah.” Curse this flirtatious little kitty, looking like he had everything under control after pulling such a stunt against that liar. Curse herself for letting it work, as she was led in the middle of the dance floor.

The lights got softer, the song too. Even with the confrontation happening not that far in the room, Marinette found it extremely easy to simply live in this moment. Especially given that her – the… alright her – kitty turned out to be quite the dancer, pulling her along gently, a hand over her hip and the other clenched around her hand. It felt like her goofy partner was miles away from this elegant person, but at the same time something told her that this made sense. For some reason him being so kind and sophisticated made her feel like it was perfectly normal.

Marinette smiled softly, moving slowly. Savoring this instant.

“I didn’t think it was going to end up like this.” Chat Noir hummed questioning. “Dancing with a superhero after the defeat of a villain without akuma, that’s something.”

“You got pretty lucky, huh? Especially on the first part.” And there he was, ruining the mood, pulling her along as he laughed. Maybe a little too much? “… oh! Sorry!” He straightened up, snickering nervously. Looking dizzy. “I’m a little out of it tonight.”

The stylist frowned in worry.

“If you weren’t feeling good you shouldn’t have come.”

“Bet Ladybug would tell me something similar, along with the scolding of my life for getting involved into civilian stuff.” She was pondering about it. Mm, maybe she could let this one go. “I understand it, I do, and I usually would’ve been on my own without interacting with anyone, but I couldn’t keep it shut anymore… not after seeing how sad you looked.” And suddenly his eyes were serious, focused. Like there was actually a guy underneath all the jokes.

It was supposed to be a shock. It felt more like a surprise to her. A little push in an unknown right direction, unexpected yet somehow helpful.

“You did it for me?”

“I think Lila getting busted helps everyone, but yes, mostly for you.” Again with the red on his cheeks, this time it was undeniable. “I thought I could let it go, but I saw how it got on your nerves, and after a while it got on my nerves because it got on your nerves, and I guess I couldn’t get my paws out of this one huh? I thought that fox needed a little less- Oh.” Huh, apparently this kitty did have an off button. And Marinette actually grinned while holding him, her cheek over his solid chest, hands around his neck. Feeling comfortable, happy.

… familiarly happy? She frowned a little.

“How did you know I wasn’t okay? You said you just arrived.” She could feel him swallow from this close, after finally putting his hands over her back. And again that warm lightning shocked her over the skin, a pinch in the middle of her brain. Like this was a dream that had happened before.

Chat Noir snorted softly.

“Let’s say a friend told me.”

“Let’s say I don’t believe you.”

“I would never lie to you. I… I really don’t want you to be sad, ever. You’re so amazing, you deserve all the happiness you can get.” And with that he let himself go with the movement, less shy, more him as he led her through the dance.

The music was lovely, Chat was lovely, and one by one other people were joining the dance floor like they were all part of the same fairy tale. She could spot Juleka and Rose holding each other, Kagami pulling forward the arm of a very flushed Chloe with a giggling Luka following behind, Alya clearly satisfied of the dealt situation with Lila dragging her boyfriend in, who looked way too into it to say anything, putting quickly his phone in his pocket.

His phone… the video… everything.

Marinette gasped, her mind finally unlocking that everything.

The film of the party that only one person had managed to see besides the DJ. The same allergy to feathers. The same golden hair, the same gorgeous green eyes. The confidence in his ways, the poor health of tonight – he was here while he should had been recovering, this dumb reckless kitty, she so wanted to slap him and smooch him. And this emotion, this undeniable feeling of belonging that came whenever she was between his arms, dancing like they had at Chloe’s party when he had made all of her dreams coming true with one single moment.

It was so obvious. The more she thought about it, the more she felt stupid and unbelieving and so, so incredibly happy. So much it was making her tear up, so much it was burning her heart violently. So much she wanted to scream it, tell all of Paris, tell the entire the world that it was happening.

“It’s you.” It came with a whisper, without her realizing.

“Mhm? You’re kinda shivering.” She untangled herself from him, missing the warmth, melting into his big, confused eyes. “Are you okay?”

There really was no one else.

“… could you come to my house tomorrow night?” Marinette tried her best to hold her voice together, tightening her hands onto him. She could see his smile. She could see him, under the mask or with it. “I’ll have a Christmas present for you. As a thank you gift.” And just like every time with every single akuma she had met, a specific plan formed into her head, with Chat Noir by her side.

Only this time, it was a complete solo mission. The most important one.

 ***

 How to make the best Christmas night, by Adrien Agreste.

Ingredients.

Seven days filled with plenty of akuma attacks, as fresh as possible, dripping with exhaustion. One or two – two – very generous pinches of scolding from father because of ineptitude at being absolutely flawless. And kwami, possibly cat kwami, fallen asleep on his pillow with his cheesy smelly breath directed towards him all night. Let it all fall onto the ground because of exhaustion, making him miss the Christmas Eve party where he was supposed to meet with his friends and have a great night – black cat, bad luck, har har.

Then… pick up the bowl and start over. Add an abundant thirst of revenge after watching one blue-haired girl all gloomy – and pretty, that dress wow, she really was unbelievably talented –, a fulfilled vendetta that hopefully wasn’t going to generate more troubling problems than the major one that got solved, and an invitation from said blue-haired girl for Christmas.

An actual, proper Christmas.

Chat Noir grinned widely, jumping right into the freezing air, way less fatigued than yesterday. He slept all day, regaining the strength, getting constant smug eyes from Plagg for some reasons. His father had even checked on him, maybe even sad that this year they hadn’t had Christmas at all. So he brought dinner to his bed, and they had it together. It had been somehow unsettling and nice at the same time. Last Christmas, his escape had caused a major problem, yet the solution to everything. Adrien really hoped it was going to be the same, especially for his feelings.

He stopped over a building. He could see the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery from there, and a sudden surge of worry caught him off guard. What was he expecting from this? Marinette was incredible, being invited felt like an honor alone. Was that why he was out of breath? What else was coming? His heart was for Ladybug, then why did it not doubt about helping Marinette?

A breeze caught his right under his neck, making him shiver. Ah, he was here in any case. And he was pretty sure his social skills still weren’t developed enough to let him come to a conclusion.

He jumped over the railing and landed on the small terrace at the top of the bakery, feeling his entire being immediately burst into amazement: it was beautifully decorated with Christmas lights and plants, little Christmas balls, stars, bows and little angels all over. A little table was settled with two chairs, with plenty of sweet goodness like bonbon, macarons, brownies and one wonderful Bouche de Noel. It had stopped snowing this morning, so the night was as clear as ever, shining of stars and wonder.

This was too much. It was so much that Adrien felt himself coming out of the costume in form of little tears, that Chat Noir quickly rubbed away. He faced a bully for a girl the other night, and now he was getting emotional because this precious little corner felt so comfortable he wasn’t used to it? He had to pull himself together before-

The door of the terrace opened. He took a deep breath. Play it cool, thank her, enjoy the moment. So he turned towards the sound with the widest smile Chat Noir had.

“I have to admit, this is pretty paw-some, Mari-” His voice got stuck into his throat.

This was a dream. This was the most vivid and lifelike dream he had ever had. Ladybug was stepping up from the door, eyes glimmering under the mask, wearing a majestic red dress covered in black dots. Long black gloves covered her elegant arms, her blue hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, and her pink lips were curved in the sweetest smile possible. With her flushed cheeks and the lights framing her figure, she looked like a queen.

And she stepped forward, her highness, looking pleased and even endeared by the kitty’s reaction, that still couldn’t move a single muscle.

“I’m glad you like it, I know you have a bit of a sweet tooth. And you seemed to really dig dad’s vol-au-vent that time we had Sunday brunch, so I asked him to make some. Without telling him why of course.” Dad…? Before…? “Ah, but you’re here for this, aren’t you?” Hadn’t he been completely out of himself from the daze of this apparition, maybe he would had noticed the little box into her soft hands. It was covered in a green wrapping paper, with a black bow on it.

Chat Noir blinked. Adrien blinked, because his brain was returning to him incredibly slowly but he could still hear the echo of what was happening. And he didn’t know if he was going to be able to take it. So without looking at it he grabbed the present, lips shivering.

“L… Ladybug?” And she dared to blush, like she didn’t look breathtaking already.

“J-just open it, okay?” And she dared to ask him to do something, alluring to the possibility to move or think or act – honestly it was asking a little too much from his little feline brain.

Nonetheless, after what felt like an eternity, Chat managed to trace the wrapping of the present with his claw, gently cutting the paper in the process. He grabbed an edge and discovered another box, black with a red cover. It was already perfect. But shivers caught him as he was pulling up the top, because Ladybug looking at him so intensely, so incredibly involved with him, that every movement felt meaningful. And when he finally peaked inside, his poor heart thought it was going to stop right there, just for the sake of passing away this happy.

A green branch, tender leaves, and white berries. A little mistletoe plush was waiting for him inside the box, soft looking and well made, like only one person he knew could had done with such care and dedication. So there was no stopping the gears inside his head anymore, not when everything was making this much sense all of the sudden, not while Ladybug was stepping close, putting her hands on his over the box.

Those hardworking hands, those hair as dark as night, those pretty bluebell eyes – blindness, thy name Adrien Agreste – that desire to get her closer and more comfortable with him. That feeling of ease that he thought was only meant for the closest of friends.

Ladybug smiled. Marinette smiled.

“Tikki, spots off.” In the cold night of Christmas, a red glimmering light manifested over the girl of his dreams, revealing the one he had been looking for all along. And through her lucid eyes, her goofy smile, her flushed cheeks, he could still see all of her. Because this was her. Beautifully her. “I-I thought this was the best present I could give you, after what you did yesterday and always did for me.” She laughed when Tikki flew over the present and picked it up, right over their heads. He loved that kwami. “I hope it’s good enough…?”

Her eyes fell, the slightest fear shaking the hands that were still covering his.

And Adrien felt appalled, so outraged, looking at her straight into her beautiful eyes, smiling so much he probably looked silly. But she didn’t seem to care.

“Plagg, claws in.” She knew, he didn’t know how, but she knew. Perhaps he was going to ask later. Right now, while Plagg reappeared and gave his fellow kwami a hand, still showcasing that same irritating smirk, all Adrien wanted was to take this miracle and hold on to it as long as he could. “It’s the best present of my entire life.” He let the box fall, gently grabbing her hands.

She laughed, and all of Paris felt envious of such beauty.

“Silly cat.” Marinette beamed at him. She then leaned forward, shy, glowing. And Adrien did the same, meeting her in the middle, finally kissing the girl of his dreams, feeling the glimmering joy inside of his heart outshining every single light of Christmas.

[deltaengineering]

What remains of Fall Anime 2020

You might have noticed that I haven’t been keeping up with my season impressions, mostly (but not exclusively) because it’s really boring to come up with new ways to say “it’s isekai, which means it’s garbage for stupids”. So here’s what I ended up finishing, in ascending order of goodinosity.

Hypnosis Mic -Division Rap Battle- Rhyme Anima

Ostentatious rap battles in an insanely stupid universe are very fun. The thing is that this doesn’t want to be a good anime, it wants to sell us on these characters, and the characters are pretty terrible on account of all of them being one-word gimmicks. So, let’s give them three rounds of introductions and have them solve lame, generic crimes for 8 episodes instead of setting up the rivalries that everyone suddenly has later, when the show gets good - because it does start delivering towards the end, and becomes really all I wanted. So I can’t even say I’m disappointed, but the first half of the show is almost entirely worthless. 4/10

Assault Lily Bouquet

I don’t want to be the guy that’s all “I’m mad at this show not catering to what I want”, but I do have to say that Salt Bucket is much better at being a goofy, lighthearted yuri comedy than it is at action (though there are a few choice cuts) and at having an engaging storyline. This is again just an ad for some game or other, so it’s no surprise it has about two dozen characters too many, but it also has quite a lot of superfluous plot - so much so that I suspect it was initially planned to be twice as long. Apart from that, it’s cool and all that some Gainax old hand got to make his own Gunbuster-like, but it’s just not very good at that and all I wanted was Kaede antics and bath scenes, of which 1 per episode is clearly too few. 5/10

The King's Avatar 2

King’s Avatar got a sequel and overall I have to say, I kinda like it more than the first season even though it looks much less ambitious and even the character designs were changed towards the bland. But I honestly don’t care much about the esports aspect of this and much of S2, especially in the back half, is more about schemes and social engineering - as close to an Eve Online anime as we’re ever going to get, I guess. It’s still very chinajank (why the hell does every episode come with a redundant chibi summary of itself, etc), and while I can’t call that “good” it does remind me of a time when I wasn’t filled with useless knowledge of anime tropes and was just enjoying the weirdness. Also, Ye God’s antics is as close to “looking for anime with OP MC” as I’m comfortable with getting. 6/10

Heaven Official's Blessing

Now how about some Chinimation that isn’t very janky? I only became aware of Heaven Official’s Blessing when it suddenly rocketed to the top of the MAL charts, so I gave it a looksie and oh boy. The first few episodes of this show are flat out gorgeous, quite funny and very very gay. So I was ready to agree with MAL for once, except it then launches into an arc that mostly consists of our dudes sitting in a dark pit telling each other stories that aren’t very interesting and seem barely related to the setup. Yeah, the back half of this just isn’t very good at all. And the subs are hot garbage. Still, the beginning is so impressive that I would recommend this show despite the middling rating it’s about to get. 6/10

Ochikobore Fruit Tart

You know the problem that these 5girls4koma stories have, where one of the characters is an annoying pervert, yeah? Well, in Fruit Tart every character is that character, and they’re rather cultured as well. Yes, it’s often of questionable taste and it has a terminal case of 4koma storytelling but dammit if I didn’t enjoy it. It certainly helps that this show’s greatest asset by far is Broko and it seems to be aware of this, because there’s a lot of Broko material. It would have probably have gotten a 6 but the last episode is just so... maximum Fruit Tart. I’m down for some trash if it’s as well made as this, and I do like my kiraralikes spicy, so thumbs up over here. YMM definitely V on this one. 7/10

Majo no Tabitabi

Speaking of things that are hard to recommend despite me liking them a lot, Elaina here challenges the very notion of what a TV show even is supposed to be. I assume most people tune in every week expecting to get something roughly similar. Not so with this one, you could get everything from slice of life antics to Higurashi-style gore, or reasonably deep character study to pervert comedy. I would say that the only unifying thread is the presence of Elaina, who is a very fun character, but there’s an episode she’s not in, so there you go. But I’m a connoisseur of the weird and I also have to say that I enjoyed every episode in its own way. Also, each episode stays remarkably consistent by itself, and in the end it wraps it all up with a sort of neat “life is like a box of chocolates” thematic bow, which isn’t earthshatteringly profound but hey, it’s there. Just don’t go in with expectations, especially not expectations based on the first episode. 7/10

Love Live! Nijigasaki

It’s Love Live. Good old reliable Love Live. Really not much to say about this one, any discussion of what makes this different from previous iterations is going to end up in minutiae only people who already watched this could possibly care about. I do have to say that while the musical numbers are as good as Sunshine’s were towards the end and there’s also a lot more of them, “looking budget deficient outside the CG” is the one thing I didn’t expect from something that’s ostensibly a Sunrise premium product. So boo on that one, apart from that it’s idols (an anagram of solid). 7/10

Garupa Pico Oomori

The chibi SD shorts based off Bang Dream are still better than the main show. Even if S3 was actually quite good, this is just the best thing you can do with 30+ characters that aren’t that deep. Garupa Pico specializes in absurd humor setpieces that at points is better at being Pop Team Epic than Pop Team Epic itself was. Take that, memelords. 7/10

Fire Force S2

Fire Force is just weird, man, and it’s sort of great. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a property of this magnitude show this much of the ol idgaf spirit. How about an episode where the A plot is the most evenhanded exploration of religion i’ve seen in anime, and the B plot is about blowing up a tryhard edgelord by exposing him to panties? How about a subplot where Batman and Thor infiltrate the vatican to kill the pope, only for that to lead into a gay rape backstory, only for that to be resolved by dank weed and dismemberment? It really is quite a thing, as they say. Now, Fire Force certainly delivers hard at points, but it’s also very scattershot, even if S2 is somewhat more consistent than S1. The weakest parts are unsurprisingly still the ones where it’s remembering its fighting shounen template, and that’s not only because I don’t like that, it’s also because it’s particularly and consistently bad at scheduling these huge, simultaneous multifight setpieces it often crescendoes with. But hey, at least these tend to look super cool. In short, Fire Force is a land of contrasts and still the only fighting shounen I give a damn about. 7/10

IDOLiSH7 Second Beat

Did you know that I think Idolshi7 is the best one of all of these huge-ass commercial idol franchises? Yeah, I think it’s better than Love Live, and as of Fall 2020 also the better looking one because Troyca still delivers where Sunrise apparently can’t. I guess still don’t like the music much, thankfully there isn’t a lot of that. It also still specializes in gigantic drama, and to its credit S2 is now much better at either getting to the point or at least making it silly and fun. You show that door who’s boss, Sou. Still fantastic Tsumugis all over the place as well, in fact I think I like all the characters now. Even Banri gets his big moment in this season! Yeah, this stuff is pretty cool. 8/10

Adachi and Shimamura

So here’s the AOTS, and it’s the lovechild of Bloom Into You and Tsuki ga Kirei. While it definitely isn’t as good as either of these two, because it lacks the “about more than just teenagers being hyperbolic about a crush” part from Bloom and the part where it has an actual ending from TgK, it carves out its own niche with its loopy, almost stoned tone that’s full of side weirdos and yuri hyperspace. It’s also uniquely focused, with a tiny core cast and even Shimamura doesn’t really matter all that much. This is all about Adachi, and thankfully Adachi is amazing. Amazingly awkward, that is. It’s very cute. So yeah, this is a bit too lacking in substance to aspire to classic status, but it’s a great time nonetheless. 8/10

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Knife in a Gun Fight --The Commodore

Summary:  In 1929, the Nevin-Klaff Gang, a collection of bootlegging cousins from the farmlands of Texas find themselves on the run and in need of help.The gang finds their way to St. Paul, Minnesota where the make the acquaintance of notorious, underground, bootlegger smuggling gang, The EST. Immediately, the leaders of these two gangs, Siobhan (Shiv-on) “Shiv” Nevin, and Colson “The Gun” Baker, can’t stand one another. When their subordinates go behind their backs to agree to work together, Shiv realizes how dangerous it can be to be a knife in a gun fight.

A/N: I apologize for how this was def. not posted when I originally anticipated. I had a major plot hole I had to fix and basically rewrite this chapter!

Built in 1920, the Commodore was a quaint place for passersby to take refuge during their journeys; however, after the hotel’s bar was shut down, it was secretly relocated underground to become an exclusive, and on occasion, nefarious, speakeasy. All of the gamblers, bootleggers, and gangsters that Saint Paul attracted knew of the speakeasy, but more importantly, they all knew of The EST.

Almost as well known as the Nevin-Klaff gang, the EST was a staple of the mid-west’s criminal underground. The EST began in Cleveland as a collection of bootleggers and smugglers, each trying to escape their own predetermined fates, and arrived in Saint Paul roughly two years ago. Siobhan had heard the rumors of the EST’s near invisible smuggling and bootlegging operations, and they served to be accurate given how little media attention the received. Sure, Saint Paul was her first pick of a hideout because of it’s magnetic pull to the criminal world, but when she realized the EST was there, that was when she devised an escape plan.

Since the collective Nevin and Klaff siblings began working together, Shiv could feel Walter and Eddy’s fear--they would never admit to it in order to not feel as if they were burdening their older brothers--and the discontentment George and Art constantly repressed from the younger three regarding if they’ll make it out alive. She knew it was up to her to save all of their asses. She knew George was one snarky comment away from getting a hole blasted through him--by the cops or another gang, it didn’t matter; he was a smart-ass to everyone. Art was intelligent, but didn’t have the patience to see more than two minutes ahead of each action he took, Eddy and Walter were by no means children, especially after everything they’ve witnessed and experienced, but neither had the brains to figure out where to go or what to do next. Shiv was the planner, the decisive, witty, strategic thinker the gang needed to escape the country without striking interest in the wrong people.

Who else do undesirables go to for help other than more undesirables? she thought not long after arriving in Saint Paul. The EST was far from her first plan, but it was the safest one she could come up with.

“Just mingle,” Shiv reminded her brothers and cousins as they entered the Commodore speakeasy. The large, open room was flooded with people of various different walks of life. In one corner, a known gangster spoke freely with what appeared to be financial businessmen, near the billiards table, housewives and flappers cheered while their men competed, and throughout the crowd, men and women spoke, danced, and drank as if the law could not reach them down here, beneath the streets of Saint Paul, Minnesota. “Don’t draw attention to yourselves,” Shiv stated with a glare in George’s direction as she followed the men down a short flight of stairs.

“Where are we meeting up and when?” Walt asked as a young, redheaded woman caught his eye.

“If you meet anyone in EST, try and set up something for tomorrow” Siobhan said softly under the music. “Breakfast, river dancing, anything” she continued slightly sardonically with a scoff. Already Walt and Eddy peeled themselves away from the group and made their introductions to the young woman and her friend. George and Art also pulled away from Siobhan to begin a game of billiards at an open table. 

Shiv took a deep breath and slowly approached the bar. Her reflection bore back at her from the mirror behind the bar, and she quickly examined herself. Her long, toned arms had lost their tan from working under the hot, Texas sun, however the muscle remained, especially after having to carry the Nevin-Klaff gang on her shoulders for the past eight or nine years. Her long, dark hair was tied up elegantly--something her younger cousin learned to do as a child when his mother asked him to help her with her hair on Sundays--and a hint of makeup accentuated the twinkle in her doe eyes. A soft, cap sleeve evening gown hung from her shoulders in shimmering, golden beaded hues before transforming into a flowing swirl of pale blue tulle. The gown hugged her body gently before it fell to gather around her feet, and despite the few eyes she’d caught glancing her way, she grew anxiously uncomfortable in the attire.

For the past near decade of her life, Shiv had been carrying out secret plans of illegal activities; she never had a moment to reflect on her appearance or the appeal she had towards others. Often, her brothers and cousins would meet flings wherever the group sought shelter, but Shiv didn’t have the luxury of forgetting her surroundings and abandoning all concerns. People brought out the worst in her; it was a fact as inarguable as the sky being blue or the grass being green. Being raised on a farm, as the only child in her household, she not only endured the worst from her peers for being poor, but also was not shielded from her brothers’ and cousins’ ‘boys-will-be-boys’ antics. She grew up to be tough and level-headed, but more so, Shiv’s experiences with people outside of her family--and sometimes even within her family--led her to putting up the harshest of fronts and strongest walls imaginable.

“Can I get you something ma’am?” the bartender asked as Shiv’s eyes flicked away from the table top and to the young man before her. He couldn’t have been much older than Walter or Eddy, but he seemed much younger due to the lack of farm-built muscle that defined her family.

“Just a double whisky, neat,” she stated monotonously with a small smile in exchange for her off-putting tone. With a nod, the bartender sauntered away to pour the drink, and Shiv turned on her heel to examine the room once more. George and Arthur were playing against one another and attracting a large crowd of predominately female spectators, Walter sat at a booth with the redhead he saw upon entering the bar and laughed with her at a story she appeared to be telling, and Eddy wasn’t very far away from Walt, carrying back a round of drinks alongside a blonde girl who seemed rather taken with him.

“That’s a pretty strong drink,” a deep voice said from over Shiv’s shoulder as she turned around to take her glass from the bartender and meet the stranger’s eyes. The man beside her was folded into the bar and had pulled a nearby stool towards him with his long legs in order for him to sit as he sipped from his own glass. He wore a stone grey three piece suit with a black tie, wore his blonde hair slicked back and to the side, and seemed all too sure of himself for Siobhan’s taste.

“Not strong enough if you ask me,” she commented in a dry and rather unremarked tone as she refrained her natural instincts to continue to scope out the man beside her.

“It’s not too often that I see a nice girl such as yourself drink a man’s drink,” he said with a small chuckle. Slowly, Shiv’s eyes drifted to her right as she held her breath and clenched her jaw.

“What in the world would lead you to assume that I’m nice? And why the hell do men think they have a monopoly on everything?” Shiv questioned without an ounce of emotion rising from her tone.

“Can’t you just take a compliment?” the man huffed as he rolled his eyes and took a small swig of his drink.

“I’d love to, but unfortunately, there was nothing of substance in anything that you said for me to even assume to be a compliment,” Shiv stated as monotonously as she could. 

“What is your problem?” The blonde man with his hair slicked back and to the side grumbled as he poured the rest of his drink down his throat and narrowed his eyes in curious observation at Siobhan. As she quickly lost whatever patience she had left after dealing with George all day, Shiv exhaled sharply, tossed back her whisky, and stared the man in the face.

“You’re my problem,” Shiv stated in response to the man’s question.

“Me?” he quickly questioned in return only to get an annoyed glare from the woman across from him.

“Yes, you. It was more than obvious that I wanted to be alone; did you not come over here because you figured I was the only woman in this place completely isolated?”

“Maybe I wanted to talk to you,” the man attempted to explain away her accusations.

“Maybe you did,” she sighed and rolled her eyes, “after your silver tongue and semi-suave persona failed in picking up either of the women chatting at the table behind us.” Hesitant to admit his shortcomings with the brash woman before him, the man narrowed his eyes at her and pursed his lips, as if prompting her to continue. “There’s a mirror on the bar, I couldn’t have ignored that train wreck even if I wanted to.”

“Did anyone teach you how to smile?”

“Did anyone teach you how to pick up on basic social cues?”

“Damn, why are you so mean?” the blonde man gasped in aggravation.

“It’s what the world does to you, pretty boy. Maybe you’ll learn that one day,” she said before standing up and leaving a tip on the bar for the bartender.

She didn’t want to come out tonight. Befriending EST was not apart of her original plan; it was just some bullshit addition George wanted in order to feel like he was contributing something to protecting his brother and younger cousins. A simple ask-around-town and introduce-yourself before asking for a favor would have worked. Personal, human interactions were obsolete. It didn’t matter one way or another if they were best friends or simply business partners, but George threw a fit and threatened to take off on his own, which subsequently terrified Walter of losing his brother and then sent Arthur and Edmund into a panic about separating from their cousins. 

“I should have let him leave,” Siobhan muttered to herself as she paced towards an empty booth in the darkest corner of the speakeasy. There was a distinct difference between each Nevin-Klaff member’s reason for being in this criminal boat, and Shiv was near certain of each person’s motives. 

Walter didn’t want to be left out. Being the youngest instilled a fear in Walt about being the only one not able to do something out of the Nevin-Klaff cousins. Edmund knew the work he would have to pick up around the farm with George, Arthur, and Siobhan gone would be too much for him to handle, and he wasn’t about to handle the brute of harvest on his own. Arthur only continued to help George in order to keep him on the right track. George wasn’t the brightest, and he certainly didn’t know what he was doing in the beginning. Shiv always figured he assumed he could stash jugs of whisky or moonshine in the bed of a truck, drive two counties over, and collect some cash. Without Art to be a sound moral compass with more than half a brain, George would have been locked up not too long after he started. Shiv never really clicked with George. Throughout their childhood, she never understood why the family favored him so much, but she did know they were unaware of the many secrets he harbored from them. Initially, he stole from his parents--it wasn’t much, but taking anything from a dirt poor farmer was more than enough to ruin him--and then got into bootlegging as a way to get enough money to payback his parents without them knowing. 

There wasn’t a doubt in Shiv’s mind that, if the gang were to go their separate ways, George wouldn’t stick to the harmless crimes they commit now. He’d go on to rob trains or banks, make a mistake and kill someone or end up being killed. That’s the only reason she didn’t devise a way to travel in smaller groups or spread out across the country, because whoever was stuck with George would be screwed.

“He has dumb-ass plans anyway,” Shiv sighed to herself as she reexamined George’s idea of becoming friends with EST. Allies, sure, Shiv could understand that, but friends? This wasn’t a school playground. This is 1929 Saint Paul, Minnesota and they were wanted in who knows how many states. There’s not any time fro friends, and their idea of going to a speakeasy and flushing out the people they’re essentially stalking in order to get close to wasn’t going to come to fruition tonight. “Screw this,” Shiv huffed as she slammed her hands down on the table in front of her and sprung to her feet. “I didn’t want to come. I told him this was stupid. No one ever listens to me, even when my only job requires them to listen!” Over and over, more and more complaints flooded Shiv’s head as she made her way to the exit. She grumbled each one under her breath and did her best to ignore all of the concerned glances being exchanged her way; all except for one. The baby blue-green eyes of the man who had pissed her off by reminding her all too much of George noticed her leave, and wore the smallest expression of guilt on his face. 

Shiv noticed him, and it made her even angrier.

[sifanjewel]

OC Q&A: Answers

Here are answers to the questions I received about my OCs, Zela and Iryn! If you need more info about Iryn, there’s a post about him on my page to give you some background on him!

Q: How did they meet?

Zela and Iryn met in Stone-in-the-Wood; Zela was there visiting with friends while Iryn was passing through with a group of Drenchen travelers to make trade. He and his companions were negotiating with a Stonewood blacksmith while Zela was at the brew fountain with her friends. They locked eyes, and Zela went red upon being caught ~ admiring him from a distance ~

Fleur (who belongs to @thanatasia) noticed this exchange, looked Zela dead in the eyes and basically told her, “You know this is going to happen, right?” much to Zela’s obvious embarrassment.

Iryn and his caravan were given a place to stay in the travelers’ exclusive quarters in the village, but Fleur managed to find him. She explained to him Zela’s situation with being mute, but he didn’t mind that at all, and was very much interested in meeting her. Fleur did not hesitate to send Zela his way and they met at the outskirts of Stone-in-the-Wood that night!

The conversation was very verbally one-sided, I can’t go into detail without making this super long but I can assure you they managed to get to know each other quite well! Later on music struck up in the village and they shared a dance. When it was time to say goodbye, he pulled a sogflower out of his pack and placed in in her hair, promising they would meet again.

Q: How did Zela feel about this blooming romance?

Zela never thought she would have a chance at romance because of her inability to verbally communicate. She had no previous experience and had never received that kind of attention from males she'd encountered before. She became nervous and insecure when she realized her feelings. She wanted to be with Iryn but was terrified of him losing interest. After much encouragement from her friends and family, however, Zela pursued the relationship and doesn’t regret a thing!

Q: Who confessed first?

Surprisingly, Zela was actually the one to confess first! They had been sending each other dream-stitched gifts/messages for months when Zela finally decided that she needed to tell Iryn she loved him somehow. (Zela doesn’t write and Iryn is illiterate so they had to get creative with their communication over distance). Much to everyone’s surprise she managed to work up the courage to send him a very special charm, her voice stitched to it, quiet, but confident: “I love you.”

When nearly an entire unum had gone by with no response, Zela began to panic, and her heart broke at the realization that she must have scared him off and/or he lost interest. Literally the day afte that Iryn SHOWED UP at the docks of Cera-Na! He had traveled all the way across Thra to see her. When she saw him she practically flew into his arms, and he tearfully told her “I love you, too.”

This was also the moment they first kissed, and it was romantic as all hell even with everyone watching :)

Q: Do they make little gifts for each other?

They’re always making gifts for each other! Zela makes charms and other accessories for Iryn; Iryn’s gifts mostly come in the form of songs and poems. Whenever he makes a physical gift, it usually has something to do with flowers, because a flower played a key part in their journey to falling in love.

Q: Do they have pet names for each other?

Iryn usually refers to Zela as his “Sifan bloom” or “seaside sogflower”. Zela of course doesn’t vocalize her nicknames, but her family started to call him “spearhead” or her “freshwater lover” much to her embarrassment.

Q: What do Zela’s parents think of Iryn? How did his family react to Zela?

Zela’s parents adore Iryn! Shal’un and Lana were over the Moons when their daughter found someone who made her happier than they’d ever seen her. Given the fact that they themselves are an inter-clan couple they have no problem with him being Drenchen.

... Iryn’s family, on the other hand, aren’t so open-minded.

Iryn is a very prominent figure among the Drenchen, one of the top hunters and warriors in the entire clan. This role of leadership has been in his family for generations, his brother and sister take their positions very seriously, especially in the wake of their parents’ deaths. So when they discovered Iryn was in love with a Sifan... things didn’t exactly go well.

Iryn’s family was enraged that he would just up and leave and join the Sifa for some “muted lassywing”. This revelation spread like wildfire and it got so bad within the hunting party to the point where Maudra Laesid had to get involved despite how ridiculous it was to her. Needless to say she gave the group a much-needed hard-talk and they were eventually swayed into allowing Iryn to live his own life, but things still ended on a sour note between them. Iryn’s brother is the only one who speaks to him from time to time, but he refuses to get to know Zela in fear of losing their sister’s respect.

Zela was extremely upset by the whole ordeal and blamed herself for Iryn’s relationship with his clan and family falling apart, but he didn’t. It hurt him, but he’s much happier with Zela than trying to live up to the Drenchen’s expectations of him.

Q: Do they want childlings and/or fur-babies?

Pets aren’t really their thing, but they hope to have at least one childling!

That’s all for the questions for now! I hope to do more on these two in the future... especially in regards to their wedding ;)

Zela and Iryn’s relationship is full of many struggles, and it was a hard road traveled to get to where they are now, but let it be known that they are nothing without each other, and they would go through it all again a thousand times over if it meant they could be together for all eternity!

As we say in the Dark Crystal community: “All right, together then!” ❤️

[charmspoint]

fr tho hmmm, ok since ur bingeing alot of anime lately, top 5 anime youve watched recently (u can include ongoing stuff if u want ily)

For this ask meme

I havent binged that much anime recently ;;; Just a few, a lil few.

Long list with pictures ahead, this is not list by quality but by joy factor

5. Jujutsu Kaisen

It’s weird that the anime I’ve been talking about the most is so low on the list but that’s mainly because I’m mostly hyperfocused on the manga rn. The arc the anime is in rn is where I got really invested when I was reading the manga and it only got better since then, would probs rank very high in my fav manga list rn. I’m feral for the next season and I would like to know when it’s coming out hehe~

4. My Next Life as a Villainess 

Catarina vs my exam slump, who will win? The answer may surprise you.

This show brought so much happiness in my life when I needed it the most, I just enjoyed it a whole lot and on a few occasions it even made me laugh at loud. Catarina is a fucking dumbass but in a way that makes her lovable instead of frustrating...or at least lovably frustrating lmao! And I’ve already said my peace on the rest of the cast. The only way it could be better is if it went gay all the way 

3. Skate the infinity 

Can you imagine that I almost didn’t watch this anime? The only reason I started it because I looked at the op cuz ‘skating anime is bound to have some good tunes’ (it has), but truth to be told from the amount of it I see on my dash I would have probably got into it anime. I love these characters (except Adam but Adam falls straight into the sort of villain trope I dislike the most so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) But honestly has some of the best and most lovable characters these season and Reki’s arc is goddamn heartbreaking to watch. This is the kind of show with a beating heart you know, I love it.

2. Dr Stone

Funny how I watched this after you complained endlessly about it and then ended up enjoying it so much. I’m not much of a science buff and there are times I just zone out when Senku is explaining shit but as I’ve said countless times before it’s the characters that make or break the show for me and I love every single one. I just like how full of passion it is and how obvious it is that this is the author just nerding out. Senku is very interesting protagonist because he wasn’t supposed to be the protagonist at all and it’s great how passionate he can be while completely avoiding the passionate shonen youth trope. Also I ranted to you constantly about how nice is to see a character with who has such a prominent way of showing love exclusively by his actions. Also the emotional moments hit so hard despite it being a nerd out show. Also just Gen, as a concept. This show feels like someone is constantly ranting to you about the thing they are passionate about and as someone who loves to listen to ppl rant about things they love, it’s just great. Also I get to share in with something you really like and that always makes it better <3

1. Talentless Nana

Didn’t we calculate that I finished the entire anime and then the manga start to finish in two days flat?

Yeah I think that says it all.

Nana turned out to be such a niche show and it really deserves more. I’ve seen people compare it to Death Note but it’s really not like Death Note when you get past the cat and mouse game that isn’t even it’s core more like a bait to lure you in to the real thing. Like this isn’t a show that is going to vow you with it’s mindgames but I do like it better than Death Note just because it has infinently more interesting and lovable characters and Nana could kick Lights ass any day. Nana has bits of BNHA in it and bits of Death Note in it but what it’s really about for me is abuse and how it can break and remold a person and how hard it’s to get out of it and start acting against what you’ve been conditioned to believe is the right thing, no matter how much you want to do better. That message is more thoroughly explored in the manga though and since it ended up so niche I doubt we’ll be getting second season ;-; But damn don’t I love Nana’s arc. She makes for an amazing protagonist that you just love despite everything she does and then you start to understand her better and how she ended up like this and you just really want to root for her to figure out what happened. And when she does it’s not an instant switch, she doesn’t immediately go ‘oh ok i know what teh good is now ill do that’. It’s a struggle to go against what she’s been taught to believe, it’s a struggle to turn her back on the only safe person she knows in her life (who is very very abusive but abusers can still be safe places that’s why abuse is so hard to leave) and try to join in with people who are very likely to refuse her just because she knows that’s the right thing to do. Watching Nana go from mindless drone to a girl struggling to leave an abusive situation and make up for all the wrongs she did is just amazing. One day I wanna go through the manga and detailly document Nana’s journey. I hope she finds stability soon my girl ;-; 

This has turned into a Talentless Nana rant but I just love how seriously the story takes the topic of abuse, how much it can impact you, your actions and your view of the world and how hard it is to leave. How much easier it would be for Nana to just stay where she is and ignore everything despite knowing leaving would be the best choice. Recently the manga updated with a chapter on Moe and it showed so well how much abuse can impact and persist even when a child is in a safe situation and ;-; MOE I’M SORRY I SAID I DONT LIKE YOU AAAA. 

Anyway if anyone aside from Peter made it to the end of the list uhhh read Talentless Nana, it’s really good and I would like more please

[fraink5-writes]

From Darkness Into the Lantern Light - Chapter 9

We’ve finally reached Liyue Harbor--woooo!!

Thanks to @leio13​ for helping Zhongli and Childe’s journey get this far!

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a cold-hearted queen. Although the Tsaritsa, as she was called, possessed her own divinity, she coveted the powers of the other Archons. Aiming to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, she sent her strongest warriors to Liyue Harbor. But just when Rex Lapis was almost defeated, he escaped to another vessel, that of a powerless baby, and was swept away to a hidden tower for his protection.

Many years after the great fight, the young and ambitious Harbinger, Childe, arrives in Liyue to grant the Tsaritsa’s desire, but, on his search for the Geo Archon’s gnosis, he ends up tangled in a mysterious man’s dreams to see Liyue Harbor’s Lantern Rite.

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

The sun peeked over the horizon, glazing over Ajax’s features in warm, golden light. Zhongli lightly poked his cheek. “Good morning, Ajax. It’s time to get up.”

Ajax groaned, rolled onto his back and finally opened his eyes. “G’morning.” Then he sprung up. “You’re right! We have to get going! We should have gotten through more of the plains yesterday…” He gritted his teeth.

“It’s all right. I enjoyed yesterday’s conversation.”

“No, it’s not! I absolutely won’t let you miss this—this is your dream, isn’t it?”

Zhongli smiled just a little. Seeing the lantern rite had always been his dream, but, now that he was close, his feet were heavy. If only he had a few more days…

Ajax, however, would not wait. “Come on, let’s go!” He waved, beckoning Zhongli as he started southward.

Zhongli hurried after Ajax. Any extra time would be wasted alone. If he could not buy time, he had to be sure to use it wisely. 

Ajax and Zhongli ducked through a large complex of ruins, avoiding any nefarious groups or monsters. After they had definitively steered clear of the millelith towers, they joined up with the main road again at the base of giant stairs. The two columns of stairs had such grandeur that Zhongli would have assumed they led directly to Liyue Harbor had Ajax not suggested otherwise. 

After three flights of stairs, there was a flat stretch with a couple of buildings and a prominent statue. The statue depicted a powerful but thoughtful figure. Although the man exuded the energy of a king, his features were obscured by a draping hood. As Zhongli studied the statue, his heart ached. He stared at his own empty palm as though he held his own cube. Perhaps the man in the statue was also looking for the answers to an unknown question.

“Zhongli?” Ajax’s fingers coiled gently around Zhongli’s left hand.

“Whose statue is that?”

For a moment, Ajax’s face was pensive in the silence. “That must be the god of this land.”

The god of this land?

Before Zhongli could ask another question, Ajax tugged his hand. “Come on! There’s an even better view right up ahead!” Zhongli cast one more nostalgic glance at the statue before letting Ajax drag him up more flights of stairs.

At the top of a cliff, Ajax gestured widely. “I present you… Liyue Harbor!”

Zhongli gasped. In front of him, the city of Liyue rose up like a stone staircase from the sea to the mountains. Its curved green and orange roofs glistened under the morning sun. In front stretched long wooden docks where dozens of boats with impressive sails bustled. The animated cries of people and birds drifted in the wind right to Zhongli’s heart. As he stood before the city’s grandeur, his earlier hesitation made way for the warm comfort and inexplicable pride which swelled in his chest.

A light squeeze on his hand pulled Zhongli from his feelings. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Ajax said. “But it’s even better up close!” He led Zhongli down the hill, but when they approached the bridge, he changed directions, going right into the hills. “Sorry, we can’t go through the main entrance. Not two suspicious figures like us.”

The city was almost tangible, kept out-of-reach only by Ajax’s gentle hand. Nevertheless, Zhongli followed him without objection on their improvised path around the city’s natural moat. Eventually, they came upon some ruins, at which point, Ajax led him down a stone path and across a wooden bridge.

"There—a perfect good-for-nothing!" Ajax exclaimed with a smirk. He pointed at a nearby millelith sitting atop a rock with a vacant stare. "Let's hurry!" With that, he and Zhongli darted past the millelith and a few other absentminded guards. 

When they stepped into a stone plaza, Zhongli halted. Between a curved colonnade and a bouldered wall, a tiled path snaked across a pond of lily pads. Tall stairways stretched in either direction by the entrance. 

Ajax made another large gesture. “Welcome to Liyue Harbor.”

But Zhongli’s excitement was quickly interrupted by a yank of his hair. He whipped around to see a mother consoling her crying child. “You have to be careful, honey.” She scooped up her child before stepping dramatically over Zhongli’s ponytail. A subtle frown surfaced on Zhongli’s face as he reeled in his hair.

“Don’t mind her, Zhongli.” Ajax nudged Zhongli softly. “Hold on, I have an idea. Let’s move somewhere less crowded first.” Taking Zhongli’s hand again, he pulled him up the staircase on the right. 

The stairs opened to another plaza, this one surrounded by towering buildings. Ajax pointed to an old woman by an unassuming table. She was watching over a cluster of pink and blue flowers. Ajax approached the table first. “Excuse me, madame, are you, by any chance, selling these flowers?”

“Oh, no.” The woman frowned. “I am just watching over them. But, if you would like, I can sell one to you.” She examined Ajax up and down. “Hmm… for you, I can give you a glaze lily for 5,000,000 mora.”

“What?!” Ajax jumped back. “No way! That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not unreasonable at all.” Zhongli chimed in. “Glaze lilies are extremely rare in the wild. Nowadays they grow almost exclusively in Liyue Harbor.”

Ajax stared, his mouth agape.

“My, my.” The old woman smiled. “You are quite knowledgeable—oh.” She paused and looked at Zhongli pensively.

“Is something wrong, madame?” Zhongli asked.

“Oh, nothing.” She chuckled. “I was just noticing what remarkable amber eyes you have. They remind me of a friend of mine.” Her gaze was expectant.

“I’m sorry, but this is actually my first visit to Liyue Harbor.”

“Of course.” The tiny frown was quickly wiped off her face. “You see, I am a very old lady. My friend has actually been dead for years now.” She tended wistfully to a glaze lily.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, don’t be. I’m happy to be reminded of the memory, and happy that such cultured people are coming to this old city. I suspect the glaze lilies will be blooming happily in the near future.” She picked the glaze lily from the grass and offered it to Zhongli. “Here, why don’t you take this as a gift? In honor of my friend.”

“Thank you.” Zhongli tentatively took the flower, a spell of dizziness washing over him.

“Hold on.” Ajax plucked the flower from Zhongli’s hand. “Wear it like this.” With light fingers, he tucked the glaze lily in Zhongli’s hair by his ear.

Zhongli clutched his now throbbing head. His vision faded in and out as he squinted at the floor. “I’m sorry, but… I think… I need to sit down… for a bit…”

“Of course.” Ajax wrapped his arm around Zhongli’s waist and guided him to a nearby ledge to sit. “Take as much time as you need. I’m going to finish up some business with that old lady, but I’ll be back shortly. Holler if you need me.”

Ajax left to go talk to the old woman. Despite the short distance, Zhongli couldn’t make out their conversation, which sounded vaguely like an argument. 

Zhongli’s focus was rapidly disappearing as though his thoughts were being dragged from reality. Invasive images crawled all over his brain, threatening to explode. 

“Zhongli?” Ajax’s voice pulled Zhongli from the scenes which nearly consumed him. Countless flowers were practically erupting from Ajax’s arms. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I’m sorry. I do not know what has come over me.”

“It’s alright.” Ajax sat down on the ledge next to Zhongli. “It’s your first time in such a populated area. It’s only natural to feel overwhelmed.” He unfastened the clip and tie in Zhongli’s hair. “Let’s just sit for a while.”

Zhongli nodded, but he feared what would happen to his mind if he continued to do nothing, yet, at the same time, he felt too weak to move. Sure enough, the moment he let his guard down, his headache flared up. He contorted.

“Shh… it’ll be okay.” Ajax whispered from somewhere behind Zhongli. “Just try to calm down.” His fingers began dancing lightly across Zhongli’s scalp. Then they pressed deeper into a tender massage. Their patterned movements eased the stress from Zhongli's skull. As Ajax’s hands gradually combed through the length of his hair, Zhongli closed his eyes, letting himself slip into an artificial bliss. He made a selfish wish: that for the rest of the day—their last day—he could forget what his body was trying so desperately to remember, that he could spend the rest of the day like this, with Ajax and without another care in the world.

“Done!” Ajax danced in front of Zhongli with a huge grin on his face. Zhongli cautiously reached back with one hand to examine Ajax’s handiwork. From the feeling of it, he had done up all of Zhongli’s hair into a giant braid with interspersed flowers. “That should deal with the length problem. If only you could see yourself right now!”

“Thank you.”

“Ah—sorry.” A deep blush had covered Ajax’s face. “I got carried away. Are you feeling any better now?”

“I’m feeling fine. Thank you.” Zhongli stood up with a little twirl, trying to catch a glimpse of the silk flowers and glaze lilies in his hair. "How did you get all these flowers, anyway?"

"That old lady turned out to be not so unreasonable after all! After a bit of bargaining, she gave them all away for free!"

"Perhaps we should return some of them."

"She said it was okay! More grow all around Yujing Terrace, anyway," Ajax grumbled.

"Liyue Harbor is one of the only places glaze lilies grow. I would love to see one."

"Let's find one of these rare flowers then!"

Zhongli and Ajax strolled along the grassy borders of the terrace until they spotted a blue flower.

"It's not even in bloom now…" Ajax looked apologetically at Zhongli.

"How surprising—glaze lilies are supposed to thrive in joyful and peaceful environments." Zhongli pursed his lips.

"The old lady implied something like that too... Hers looked fine. Maybe this one is just a dud."

"There is another way to make it bloom—singing."

Ajax's jaw dropped slightly. "Huh?"

"A pleasant tune should encourage it to open its petals." Zhongli lightly cupped the drooping flower in his hand and softly began a small tune he remembered from somewhere.

"Flower gleam and glow

Let your power shine"

The stem perked up. Rings of beryl and azure petals danced concentrically around a sunlike core. Warm traces of hazy memories wafted in its fragrance. Although it swayed happily in the reminiscent breeze, one dissonant wind would be enough to knock it over.

“Would you like to try? I’m certain we could find another closed blossom.”

“Ahaha… no thank you.” Ajax scratched behind his ear. “How about we have lunch? Unfortunately, the best eateries are on the other side of town at Chihu rock.”

“That shouldn’t pose a problem. ...Unless you are already hungry?”

“Nah, let’s take our time!” Ajax offered his hand, which Zhongli accepted. “When we get to the main street, keep your eyes open for any place you want to visit.”

The main street was a wide, stone boulevard ornamented with a canopy of colors: red bridges, orange leaves, yellow lanterns, green tiled roofs and the blue sky. Casual laughter and the calls of rickshaw drivers echoed up and down its length. To the left, a giant golden fan plastered above the doorway and a humble waitress beckoned guests.

“Which restaurant is this?” Zhongli asked.

"Oh that's Liuli Pavilion."

"Then that must be Xinyue Kiosk." Zhongli pointed to the building across with an equally ostentatious carp sign above its door.

"Yeah—how did you know that?"

"After you indicated this was Liuli Pavilion, it was a simple deduction. The two restaurants are well known as the flagships of Liyue's culinary traditions: the Li and Yue styles. The primary differences between the two styles are the approaches to flavor and the sources of the ingredients. The Li-style cuisine values rich flavors, and its ingredients come primarily from the mountains. On the contrary, the Yue-style cuisine prefers light flavors. The central ingredient to Yue-style dishes is seafood. The two traditions have been competing for centuries without a clear winner. In fact, the owner of the Liuli Pavilion purportedly established his restaurant across from the Xinyue Kiosk in order to compete directly."

Ajax nodded haltingly.

"Given this opportunity, I would greatly enjoy tasting both styles from the finest chefs in the nation."

"No can do—sorry! In order to even think about eating at one of these restaurants, you need a lot of money and a reservation half a year in advance."

"That is quite a shame. To think that the ordinary citizen cannot taste the peak of its culinary tradition."

Suddenly, Ajax’s face lit up with a grin. “Never mind those places.” He yanked Zhongli’s arm and began dragging him in the direction from which they came. “Come with me.” He pulled Zhongli up a flight of tucked away red stairs. “I would be a terrible guide if you only saw Liyue from the street level—” then another flight—”aaaand…” When they finally reached the top of the stairs, he gestured grandly at the store in front of them. “TADA!”

Zhongli’s breath stopped momentarily. Before him were tables and shelves stacked with innumerable books and scrolls.

“You like reading, don’t you?” Ajax nudged Zhongli’s side. “This is Wanwen Bookhouse. Why don’t you take a look around?”

Zhongli couldn’t pass up the opportunity, but he didn’t know where to begin: the highlighted selection of the Lantern Rite, the selection of books on Liyue Harbor, the books on other regions Zhongli might have passed through on his journey with Ajax or even the tiny self devoted to books on Snezhnaya, Ajax’s homeland? Zhongli decided to skim through the shelves in that order. Although he was an avid book reader, many of the titles in the store were unfamiliar. He made note of their titles with the hope of returning to them at a later time. By the time he reached the Snezhnayan section, whose books all had ominous titles, Zhongli’s list had racked up at least 100 titles. He figured it would be better to ask Ajax about Snezhnaya, however.

When Zhongli found Ajax, hiding in a corner out of the shopkeeper’s view, his nose was deep in a book: Rex Incognito. Zhongli immediately added the book tothe list of unknown titles to investigate. “What are you reading, Ajax?” Zhongli whispered, hesitant to interrupt Ajax’s concentration.

“Oh, this?” Ajax glanced up. “It’s about an antiques shop owner trying to sell a jade plaque to a skeptical customer.”

“I was under the impression you aren’t interested in such stories.”

“You’re right; I’m not.” Ajax snapped the book closed. “What about you? Did you find anything you want to buy?”

“Yes, in fact, there are so many books here that I have yet to read—” Zhongli sighed—”But it would be impossible to buy even one of them.”

“I can buy them.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the offer; however, I can’t bring such evidence back home with me.”

“Ah…” Ajax frowned briefly. “Shall we get going then?”

Zhongli and Ajax crossed a bridge into another system of elevated walkways. Other couples dotted the path, just chatting and appreciating the view. Zhongli lightly tugged the sleeve of the fast-paced Ajax. “Look.” Zhongli gestured at the sea which stretched out below them.

“It’s a great view, isn’t it?” Ajax leaned against the railing next to Zhongli. “So many colors. The view in Snezhnaya is nothing like this. It’s all white. It’s a great backdrop though.” He grinned.

“Do you miss it, your home?” Zhongli thoughtlessly wrapped his arm around Ajax’s waist.

“Yeah… Of course. There isn’t a moment where I’m not thinking of it. But it isn’t so bad. I’m used to travelling a lot. And I love the adventure! And, you know, my siblings also like it when I send them back souvenirs.” Ajax laughed to himself. “What about you, Zhongli?”

Zhongli stared silently out at the scene before him: the rhythmic maritime traffic, the steady ripple of the sea, the light blanket of grass atop the rocky hills, and the endless cobalt sky. The caress of the ocean breeze, the calls of merchants, and the scents of imported spices embraced Zhongli. But it was impossible for him to disregard the chains of his obligations. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “No, actually, I—” Although he was so far away, he felt the stifled air of his tower in his throat, choking him. “I should head back soon.”

“What are you saying?” Ajax laughed. “We only just got here.” His hand slid around to Zhongli’s waist and held him in place. 

Zhongli let himself smile just a bit. Even if the sounds, scenery and even time faded to white noise, at that moment, Zhongli felt extremely present. He was at home.

Ajax entertained Zhongli with stories of the many landscapes he had seen on his adventures until he was interrupted by the grumble of his own stomach. “Ahaha, we should find a restaurant, shouldn’t we?”

Taking each other’s hands, Zhongli and Ajax raced across the stairs and elevated platforms, dipping and ducking out of the eyesight of guards. Even when they reached the street again, they didn’t stop, not until they had made it across a wooden bridge. “Welcome to the heart of Liyue Harbor: Chihu Rock.” 

Chihu Rock did not possess the same grandeur as the other parts of the city Zhongli had seen. The streets were narrower, and the buildings, with their wooden frames and blue tiles, were more compact. But in place of opulence, it was overflowing with energy. Potted flowers and fiery leaves danced as the wind glided from one storefront to another, picking up delicious fragrances as it went. Water bubbled in fountains and skipped through street-side canals. People filled every empty spot, chatting at restaurants and bargaining with vendors.

Upon arriving in Chihu Rock, it was not difficult to find the restaurant they were seeking, Third-Round Knockout, situated right by the fountain plaza. They sat at a table by the story-teller and ordered the legendary fermented rice balls. 

“And now, let us hear the story of the Yaksha, whose flute you might hear tonight during the Lantern Rite,” the storyteller began. The ensuing story was extremely disturbing, and it lured out Zhongli’s earlier headache. As a result, he decided early on to tune it out.

Conversely, Ajax, his chin resting in his hands, was completely enthralled in the action story. His lips wore a permanent grin, except for the occasional muted gasp. His focused eyes sparkled as if the sun of a distant story world shone within them. 

So engaged was Ajax that he didn’t even notice lunch’s arrival until Zhongli gasped. How closely they resembled Xu Liushi’s description: compact rice-ball islands in a sea of wine.

“Woah.” Ajax blurted when he finally looked down. “I think that’s pushing the definition of ‘fermented.’”

“It’s little surprise this tavern has built up a reputation.” To Zhongli, that could only be a good thing. A restaurant with a poor image would not survive, especially not without an official name. He dipped his chopsticks into the bowl without hesitation. The sweetness of the rice balls perfectly balanced the bitterness of the wine. Of course, the wine itself possessed a subtle mix of flavors that it would be pleasant to drink alone. 

As Zhongli savored the piquant interplay of tastes on his tongue, Ajax stared reluctantly at the bowl before him. His right hand twitched. 

“Ajax?”

Ajax laughed softly. “Busted again, huh? I wonder if they have spoons here...”

“Let me help you.” Zhongli stood up with the same determination from the morning before. He stepped behind Ajax and, leaning over slightly, steadied the chopsticks in his hand. “Hold it like this instead.” Each word fell warmly on Ajax’s neck as Zhongli urged his fingers into the right positions. “The trick is to only lift the top chopstick.” He opened and closed the chopsticks with a squeeze.

“Okay, I get it,” Ajax said hastily, but when he attempted to pick up some rice, his grip slipped with the top chopstick dipping into the wine and the bottom falling from position. He scrambled to right them. “It’s fine, okay? That was just bad luck.” Despite his confident claims, he fumbled through his second effort. And his third.

“Your grip—”

“‘Needs to be firmer’—I know! I just can’t focus.” 

Zhongli had been so concentrated on Ajax’s hand that he had failed to notice the vermillion glow of his face. “I’m sorry.” With a faint burning sensation tingling on his own cheeks, Zhongli retreated to his own seat. “Shall I ask the waitress to bring a spoon?”

“No way!” Ajax pouted, his gaze fixated on his chopsticks. “As with any weapon, I’m going to master this.”

“A hero who wields chopsticks? That would, indeed, give your name much renown.”

Ajax’s laugh rang out. “Just watch.” 

Sure enough, as he ate, Ajax’s grip improved, and gradually the amount of rice that fell back into the bowl decreased as did the intensity of his focus. By the end of the meal, they had resumed a pleasant conversation.

After they enjoyed their meal at Third-Round Knockout, Zhongli and Ajax hurried to meet Suling’s cousin, Master Zhang, at Hanfeng’s Ironmongers (“If we get there too late, he won’t be able forge you a quality polearm,” according to Ajax), then they meandered around Chihu Rock, stopping by a toy seller, and finally, they ended up at the docks. Zhongli had promised Ajax that he would handle all the dealings with the Millelith. So, while Zhongli, dragon kite in hand, talked to the soldier named Yong’an, Ajax hid inconspicuously amongst the crowd. But no amount of hiding could keep the three cats from finding him. 

Then, once Ajax had seemingly adjusted to the playful scratching of the cats, he was surrounded by three children.

"Mister." a bespectacled boy pointed at Ajax. "Are you a pirate?"

Ajax blinked. "A pirate?"

Zhongli, who had been holding the attention of the millelith with a fascinating discussion of trade at the docks, quickly said goodbye and maneuvered closer to Ajax as discreetly as possible.

Another boy, this one in a hat, chimed in, "Lulu said that she saw your portrait being carried by a soldier who was talking about Captain Beidou!"

"Mm, mmm." The girl, Lulu, nodded eagerly.

Zhongli tensed up. He inched towards Ajax in case they needed to escape. Before resorting to such a desperate reaction, he fielded a question of his own, "You know Captain Beidou?"

"Mmhmm!"

"Captain Beidou is the coolest pirate ever!"

"Whenever she comes to Liyue Harbor, she always plays with us."

"She was here just earlier."

"But she said she was busy…"

"Will you play with us, Mister Pirate?"

The three children stared at Ajax with wide eyes. Ajax threw on a toothy grin. “Arr, I’ll play wit ye! But, ye should know, I’m not a part of Captain Beidou’s crew.”

“You’re not…?”

“No, mateys! Me sails with the Cygnus Fleet!”

The children passed glances amongst each other before Lulu announced, “We’ve never heard of it.”

“Arr, not yet! But ye will! One day the Cygnus Fleet will surpass even Captain Beidou’s Crux Fleet!”

The children gasped with varying degrees of acceptance.

“Are you the captain, Mister Pirate?”

“Me? No. The Captain’s sent me to spread his name far and wide while he searches the seas for recruits.”

“But you’ll play with us?”

“Arr, a pirate always keeps his word. But, ye best be careful—ye ne’er know what a pirate may take!”

The boy with glasses pouted. “Are you one of the bad pirates?”

“Captain Beidou would never take from us kids,” the other boy added on.

“Avast! What should ya have me do, mateys?”

“Hmm…” Lulu conferred with her friends before answering, “How about, cleaning?”

“Aye aye! But, be careful what ye wish for.” Ajax’s voice dropped to a serious tone. “By the time this ship is finished, it’ll be so clean it’ll look like me plundered the whole thing!”

“Yay!” All the children cheered. They led Ajax to their ship and handed him a broom, which quickly came to serve many other jobs besides a simple sweeper, including a makeshift peg leg and a polearm for fending off imaginary, bad pirates. 

Ajax moved about the ship so gracefully and so playfully that Zhongli found it near impossible to imagine that he had a malicious bone in his body. Despite his affected pirate accent, each laugh chimed naturally like a bell in a gentle breeze. Rays of sun illuminated his smiling face and cast away the darkness that had lingered in the depths of his eyes. Although neither a pirate nor a Liyuean, Ajax appeared right at home. 

“Avast! Look at the time!” Ajax called out when the sun was low on the horizon. “Shouldn’t ye be headin’ home, mateys?”

The kids nodded their heads with reluctance. “Will you be back soon to play more?” Lulu asked. All three children peered up at him with fragile hope glimmering in their large eyes.

“I don’t know.” Ajax frowned. “A pirate’s heart belongs to the sea. He knows not where the tides may take him.”

Although the children also frowned, they seemed to accept Ajax’s reason as they soon left, calling out their bye-byes.

“Zhongli!” Ajax scrambled over to where Zhongli had been waiting and squeezed his hands. “I’m sorry to have left you alone for so long—but I still have a few more things to do. Do you—”

“Go ahead. I don’t mind.” 

“I’ll be really quick.” Ajax flashed a smile, but his eyes betrayed his regrets. His hands lingered in place.

“You should have more than enough time before the lanterns if you actually start now.”

“Right.” Ajax squeezed Zhongli’s hands again before taking off. “I’ll be right back!”

Time… The sun was a similar height in the sky as when Zhongli and Ajax set out that morning. They had had a quite full day, but was their time spent wisely? What would happen after nightfall? The next morning? Zhongli watched mournfully as the sun slowly descended towards that uncertain horizon.

[professorspork]

Can you talk a little more about why you found Endgame devastating in a bad way and not a good way?

I sure can! I can talk a lot more, in fact! I’m going to put this under a cut because Ihave a feeling it’s going to get Quite Long (ETA: it is, this is 6k words I amso sorry) so if anyone just wants the tl;dr version, I recommend GaviaBaker-Whitelaw’s excellent article ‘How the straight agenda ruined Avengers:Endgame.’

If you want my own personal take, well. Enter at your ownrisk, here be monsters, etc:

First of all, the very short answer to your question: Itagged this photo as emblematic of all the ways Endgame was “devastating in thebad way and not in the good way” because, if I’m being really honest, Steve and Natbeing queerplatonic life partners (who maybe occasionally fuck but mostly don’t)was my absolute favorite thing about the MCU. (Yes, despite all the words thatfollow hereon about Bucky, I stand by Steve&Nat being my Absolute Favorite,because it was entirely about what was onscreen and nothing about the fanon thatfollowed.) And now it’s Gone and not only is it Gone it was Taken From Me, andI’m salty.

The much longer answer:

What’s maddening is that I honestly loved the vast, vastmajority of Endgame. I adored, like, 92% of it!! It’s just that the remaining8% is the part that’s a) most relevant to character arcs and b) permanent,which leaves me at a bit of an impasse. It’s hard to remember my delight overthe way Natasha laid down haphazardly over old take-out containers whilebrainstorming at her peak adorableness when she’s, y’know, dead. (Which isn’teven my biggest issue!)

I’m going to break it out by character, from most toleast irksome to me so we get the heaviest stuff out of the way and then by theend I’m just shouting on my lawn going “AND ANOTHER THING.” I’m also not goingto go into The Thor Thing, because I think everyone worth talking to is inagreement about that being fatphobic and offensive.

Okay, here we go: 

STEVE

I fucking hate that Steve went back in time to marryPeggy. AND I LOVE PEGGY AND I LOVE STEVE/PEGGY SO I’M SO MAD THIS IS WHERE I’VEBEEN LEFT. I have tried to make my peace with it, I have failed, and I amhonestly not used to being this mad at a fictional character. I know it’suseless to hold it against him—something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately isthat argument some fans make about like “why are you slutshaming X characterfor wearing skimpy armor, she just feels most empowered riding into battle withnothing but a strip of leather over her tits” when like, the characterdid not make this choice, the writers made it be that way—but unlike, say,the characterization of Steve in Age of Ultron, which I can happily disregard becauseJoss hates Steve, Markus, McFeely, Russo & Russo have been the architectsof everything I love about Steve. It’s straight from the source! And soI… I’m taking it personally, though I know I shouldn’t. I feel like Steve turnedhis back on me and left me behind.

Well. Me and Bucky Barnes.

It’s probably no secret if you follow this blog that I’ma big Stucky girl. I have admitted it’s one of my top three ships of all time;my steve and bucky tag is 21 damn pages long. But I promise, I PROMISE, thisisn’t even about that. Regardless of whether or not you think these two are orever were in romantic love with each other, their best friendship is one of themost important and indelible parts of the MCU.

Steve’s emotional arc over the last several movies hasrevolved around his intense obsession with all things Bucky. He bailedon his concert tour, defied orders and became Cap-in-combat to save Bucky in1944. He tore down SHIELD, HYDRA and the whole world for Bucky when he foundout he was alive. He became a war criminal on the slightest chance he couldprove Bucky’s innocence! And then, when they were finally reunited, finally foronce on the same page at the same time, Bucky was taken in the Snap. And so,like. It seems a bit WEIRD to me that Steve’s heartbreak over the Snap isframed as a Peggy thing (see: him looking at the Peggy compass before their first act attack on Thanos; his talking exclusively about Peggyin the Snap support group he runs WITH GAY MEN) when Peggy died a natural deathafter a long life in Civil War and not, y’know, Bucky, his oldest, mostintimate relationship-haver, or even Sam, his best friend. It seems a bit ODDto me that we see dozens of cute, short reunions and meetings in the finalbattle with 2014 Thanos—known Extremely Important Relationships Tony/Dr. Strangeand Peter/Carol are given significant on screen exchanges—but we don’t seeSteve and Bucky reunite with one another. It feels a bit CONSPICUOUS to me thatSteve does not tell Bucky what he plans to do when he goes to take the stonesback, full on SUSPICIOUS to me that the two don’t say boo shit to each other—can’teven stand in the same group together when Steve comes back from histime vacation—and outright UNBELIEVABLE to me that Steve Rogers would choose tolive seventy years of his life without Bucky Barnes.

I just don’t buy it.

I don’t buy that after four movies of you telling me itisn’t the case, Steve Rogers’ happy ending doesn’t include Bucky. (Andwe’ll touch on the whole idea of what it means to have a “happy ending” in abit.)

It feels like a deliberate side-step. It feels like thecreative team tried and failed to come up with anything approaching a normal,just-two-bros reunion scene for them and with the weight of their past intimacyeverything they wrote came off as a marriage proposal so they scrapped itentirely. It’s insulting. Not on a “my ship didn’t go canon” level—I never in amillion years expected Steve and Bucky to ‘get together’ in any concrete sense,I wouldn’t even have known what to do with it if I got it, I never wanted that.All I wanted was for the text to honor the affection, the bond between thesetwo just as much as it did in any of the other movies. One of the best featuresof the MCU is its consistency when it comes to character detail andrelationship nuance. So how on earth (I know how, we all know how) did theydrop the ball on what is literally their flagship friendship?

But it’s not just that Steve goes back in time withoutBucky, or without saying a word to him about it. It’s that Steve goes back intime and then, apparently, does absolutely nothing for seventy years, includingsaving Bucky.

The time travel rules in Endgame are… unique. They areunprecedented. And it’s easy to tell that’s true, because not once have thedifferent members of the creative team been able to give a consistent answer onwhy or how it works in interviews after the fact. So like. I accept that mytake on this may not be the “canon” take, and until we get a post-Endgame moviethat addresses these things there IS no canon take. Regardless of what their “thisisn’t Back to the Future” rules means about whether or not changing the pastmeans changing the future, in the future all of these characters lived Buckywas on ice/doing murders until the events of Winter Soldier, also in which theworld learned SHIELD was HYDRA. The Russos think Steve created his own branchreality when he went back in time, and the question is then how he got back toour world to hand off the shield; Markus and McFeely don’t think that’s true;they think Steve lived concurrently to his own regular timeline and was always Peggy’s husband. YOU WOULD THINK THEY’D HAVE REACHED AGREEMENT ON THIS EITHER WAY BEFORE THIS POINT, BUT I DIGRESS. This meansthat either a) M&M are right and Steve went back in time and neither toldhis new wife Peggy “hey honey, you know that startup you’ve got going withHoward, maybe don’t invite Arnim Zola unless you want your entire legacy to beNazis,” nor did he save Bucky when he knew he was somewhere in Eastern Europebeing fucking tortured and brainwashed. He didn’t stop Howard and Maria fromgetting in the car. There’s a lot of joke tweets about how Captain America just“let 9/11 happen” and like—it’s a joke but it’s also NOT A JOKE--- orrrrrr b) theRussos are right and maybe Steve did all of those things in a branch reality,which they felt no need to mention when they were wrapping up the emotionalstoryline for their marquee character, which is lazy at best and kind ofunforgivable at worst. Even in the Best Version of Events, where not only arethe Russos are right and Steve went back in a splinter timeline, but in thatsplinter timeline Steve co-founded a Nazi-less SHIELD with Peggy and theyfought crime Hart to Hart style, saved Bucky, stopped the Vietnam War fromhappening and cured AIDS, it still means Peggy no longer did everything she didon her own, fighting and clawing for it like a honey badger. And should shehave had to? No, of course not. But is it her defining trait and greatestaccomplishment that she did? YES! This matters to me! Erasing it without givingher a say matters to me!

And the fact that all of this is in doubt is BONKERS. Iwould feel less weird about if they didn’t leave all of it unsaid! If they’dincluded a scene with Bucky before Steve went back where Bucky just went “Steve,listen. I know what you’re thinking, and you can’t save me, okay? It wouldbreak the time continuum or something. Now go be a reckless idiot like I knowyou’re gonna and say hi to Carter for me” it would at least feel like theycared the slightest bit. Hell, if they gave Peggy ANY LINES AT ALL it wouldfeel a heck of a lot more like the reuniting of two characters I love and lesslike a mortifying hetcon where Steve erases all of Peggy’s professionalaccomplishments and canon husband and other family just to have hisfairytale happy ending with a voiceless woman-shaped smilebot.

Do you have any idea how much I would have cried if we’dgotten a scene were Steve showed up at the Stork Club in time for his dance?Peggy doesn’t even need to have A LOT of lines (though she should!) A tearysmirk and a “you’re late” reprise would have gone so far! (Especially if they’dhad a final, heart-wrenching goodbye for closure and then he’d returned to thefuture, giving us the best of both worlds, but what do I know.) But no, EdwinJarvis gets a line in this movie and Peggy doesn’t. She has no say in the endof her story—it’s a decision that’s made at her. She’s a bit player inher own life. Steve isn’t reunited with Peggy, he gets a dance with the idea ofPeggy. But like. The real Peggy is brash and terrible at emotional honesty! Shewould be a nightmare to be married to! So is Steve! That’s why I love them,they’re awful! And it just feels like all of that was erased in a moment infavor of a vision of unsustainable hetero bliss.

(Honestly, the way I make peace with this is by thinkingthat after maybe six months with Peggy they were both like “oh godwhat were we thinking, this is never going to work” and broke up, and thereason Steve didn’t tell Sam his wife’s name is that it wasn’t Peggy andhe’s too embarrassed to say so.)

And like. I’m trying not to feel like an awfulbitch/bitter old crone about it, because the thing I keep circling back to inconversation with others is them saying “can’t you at least be happy for himthat he’s at peace? Don’t you think he deserves to rest? After everything he’s done,shouldn’t Steve get a chance to be happy?”

Listen. Do I think Steve deserves a chance athappiness? Yes. Do I think Steve Rogers actually has the capacity forsustainable, long term happiness? … Honestly, no. That’s one of the reasons Ilove him.

Steve is miserable. His life is hard, he’s got PTSD, hehas trouble adjusting even in the best of circumstances. But he’s a fighter.And the reason I admire(d) him so much is that no matter what life threw athim, he was relentless in his forward momentum. He had to go on, he had to keepstanding up for others. He didn’t know how not to. Does this mean he needs ashit ton of therapy? Yes, it does—and the therapy is better in the future, Imight add! But like. As much as the creative team keeps going on about howtheir overall arcs were “Tony needed to learn to be more selfless, like Steve,and Steve needed to learn to be more selfish, like Tony” I think there’s adifference between learning to grasp happiness with both hands in the unlikely,miraculous event it comes your way, because it’s brief and shining and worthcelebrating, even though it comes with heartbreak, and just… noping out of yourlife and ignoring your problems for seven decades while everyone else worriesabout it. I’ve never seen Steve sit still and keep himself out of trouble forseven minutes—now I’m supposed to believe he managed it for seventy years? Hewas Peggy’s weird secret attic husband no one knew about? I respected him,loved him, and identified with him—I felt represented by him—because not onlydid he have to fight for every scrap of happiness he’s ever had, he felt likethere was honor in that fight. That’s why Mjolnir declared him Worthy!! And forhim to then lay down his responsibility and NOT FIGHT for 70 years momentsafter being given that distinction… it stings.

I appreciate my happy endings when they’re hard-won. Thatoften means they’re bittersweet. And if Steve’s ending were framed that way—yes,he got back his Era and he got the girl, but he lost his best friend, his foundfamily, and any determinedly-etched-out balance—I might be more okay with it.But it’s presented as the uncomplicated ride off into the sunset he deserved,and… I don’t want my stories uncomplicated. Steve Rogers is not anuncomplicated man. I know a lot of this is YMMV and I’m maybe a bit more darkin my tastes than others, here—hell, I think it’s cheap that the Elrics got alltheir flesh back AND Mustang got back his sight in FMA:B, that feels like toohappy an ending for me—but telling me that what Steve’s really wanted allthis time was to have a house in the ‘burbs and chill doesn’t resonate. Steve’swhole thing since Day 1 was “how can I sit idly by while other men risk theirlives? I can’t stand that.”

It feels like a How I Met Your Mother ending. If Stevehad had the option to go back at the end of Avengers 1, I’d have bought itcompletely that he’d take it (both for character arc reasons and for “he didn’tknow Bucky was alive then” reasons). But he’s not that guy anymore. Yet itseems like they decided a long, long time ago that Steve was going to go backin time and get a do-over, and years of development, growth, moving on andbonding with other people be damned. Who cares if Steve got Bucky back, whocares if Steve got Sam back, who cares that he’d lived 13 years, his entireadult life, in the future? Nat’s dead, might as well go back to the other damewho liked him!

And. And here’s the thing. If everything else were equalbut Bucky and Peggy’s roles were reversed—if Peggy fell from the train, and itwas Bucky who founded SHIELD with Howard; if Steve met Bucky again as adementia-ridden old man and Peggy were the Winter Soldier, if it were PeggySteve spent all these movies desperately trying to save and nurture—I feel likeeveryone else would find it REALLY WEIRD if Steve went back in time to do itall over again with Bucky! That’s not a question of romance, or gender. Not forme, who loves all of these characters equally. It’s a question of the emotionalarchitecture the story is built upon.

Historically, every decision Steve’s ever made in theentire time we’ve known him has been about Bucky. And for this ending to work,it requires us to either ignore that, or think this single-minded focus wasnever about Bucky at all—that it was instead a sublimated love where Buckybecame a signifier for Peggy or the past Steve lost, instead of a person in hisown right, the person Steve’s always chosen and who’s always chosen him, sincethey were kids. Til the end of the line. Asking me to believe that is a)horrible, and cruel, and frankly homophobic and b) simply untenable—I don’t thinkthat the plots of First Avenger, Winter Soldier or Civil War stand up to thatreading.

And even in the kindest reading of all of this—that Stevedeserves to return to the time he was stolen from, because it’s his TrueTime and Peggy’s his True Love—then my god, doesn’t Bucky deserve that, too?Steve was an orphan with, after Bucky’s “death,” ONLY Peggy and I guess theHowlies to tie him to the world. Bucky has a family! He’s got sisters! Theythink he’s dead! If Steve deserves this, doesn’t Bucky, after everything he’sbeen through, deserve it too? If it applies to one of them, it applies to bothof them, doesn’t it? No matter which way you slice it? (For the record, if Stevehad taken Bucky back to the past with him I'd still be scratching my head aboutthe timeline bearing out—and I think it would make the Sam!Cap offer even morekind of paltry and afterthoughtish than it already is, Sam deserves FIREWORKSand A CROWD damn it, and it also deserves to be a decision not made AT him, seeabove—but at least I could be like “yeah, that's exactly the kind ofhilariously not-thought-out decision Steve would make, have fun kiddo.”)

But I guess Steve inviting Bucky on his Happy Ending Tourof the past would be too much like a fucking proposal so, uh, no, we don’t getthat.

NATASHA

Here is a top ten list, in no particular order, called “I’dbe fine with it, but.” 

1. I’d be fine with it—Natasha is a hero, and she deservesa hero’s ending, she merits going out in a big swing to save the world—but she’sstill the Smurfette, man. It means something different to kill your only original female leadthis way than it does to kill a male character. It especially means that whenyou kill her in the exact same way you killed Gamora—THE OTHER SMURFETTE—onemovie previous. It feels cheap, and it feels callous. M&M&R&R havetalked a lot about the woman/women in the office who read a draft where Clintdied instead and said “DON’T YOU TAKE THIS AWAY FROM HER” but a) tbh I feellike maybe they were reading a different draft than was ultimately shot, thismovie evolved a lot over the years and b) when you’re the Token Girl, your storyis more than just yours. In a franchise of this scale, it’s just… it’s notequal yet. If the circumstances had been utterly different, if Nat haddied wielding the Infinity Gauntlet, at least it would be novel. And like—I amnot the kind of person who thinks standing against Bury Your Gays means no gayscan ever die or else, for example; sometimes a Good Death is warranted if it’swell-written enough—but again: it’s the “she feels empowered in that skimpysuit” thing. You didn’t HAVE to create a murder cliff that only exists forfemale characters to die for the men who love them. You made that choice. It’speak “why do we even have that lever?!”

2. I’d be fine with it—Natasha loves Clint, of course shewouldn’t let him die for her, not when he’s fighting to get back his family—butit would have made more sense for Clint to die as penance for all of the ninjamurders he did after losing his kids than for Nat to die because she can’t haveany. It feels like it privileges bio family over found family in a way that’skind of dismissive and gross, and it calls back to the mortifying line in Ageof Ultron were Nat referred to herself as a monster over her infertility. And theargument that Clint couldn’t die, there’s a Hawkeye Disney+ series falls flatwhen Nat has a MOVIE coming out and Vision also has a Disney+ series and yetis, as of this moment, still dead.

3. I’d be fine with it—Natasha loves Clint, of coursethey’d bicker over who would jump—but when the “dramatic” scene that precedes amajor character’s death resembles nothing so much as this comic, you’re doingit wrong. I shouldn’t be giggling over their antics right before someone fallsto their death.

4. I’d be fine with it—Nat did it for her family, whomshe loves—but her family didn’t even honor her back, and that’s bullshit. Tonygets a massive funeral and Nat gets nothing? I admit that what I trulywant for her—a long sequence of RENT-style “what Angel meant to me”testimonials—would have been a bit weird to include pacing-wise, even if I dothink if I asked Chris Evans and Jeremy Renner nicely over twitter they’dprobably improvise one for me anyway. But it didn’t have to be that. A singleshot in a montage would be enough. A shot of Clint, Laura, Fury, Steve, Sam, Okoye and Pepper doing a shot of vodka together and pouring one out for Nat would havebeen enough. Simple, elegant, gets the point across. It’s not hard!!!

5. I’d be fine with it—they needed to get the Soul Stone,for skimpy outfit reasons someone had to die, I get it—but then Steve has toput all the stones back to reverse the heist and stop the branch timelines fromcollapsing like The Ancient One warned about. How the fuck do you return theSoul Stone? And Steve could, wouldn’t that cosmically mean we get Nat back? Asoul for a soul, isn’t that the deal?

6. I’d be fine with it—I understand that playing the longgame and forcing yourself to fall in love with Red Skull so you cansacrifice him, though hilarious, is not actually a solution—but it just seemslike there are other ways to write around this moment. Nat and Clint have bothlost so much, sacrificed so much. That doesn’t count? This isn’t like Thanos,who’s never sacrificed a thing in his life. Nat’s given up so much for thecause; Clint lost his family. The Soul Stone couldn’t just sense that?Or—what if they’d jumped together? Full Rose and Jack, “you jump, I jump,right?” Refusing to be separated. What would the Soul Stone math be then? Ifeel like it would have been a cooler story to find out.

7. I’d be fine with it—ScarJo needed a way out of hercontract, after the Black Widow movie (which: how they’re going to make thatwork is a whole other rant I do not have time for here)—but killing Natasha inthe one irreversible way in a damn comic book franchise just feels soneedlessly final. If you’d said “after everything, after holding the Avengerstogether for five years with nothing but the force of her will and some peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches, she’s tired and disillusioned with it and wants toroam the world for a while without the team, maybe fight some normal crime fora bit” and had her phased out quietly I would have understood! It would havebeen fine! Preferable, even!

8. I’d be fine with it—I don’t think it’s total bullshit whenM&M&R&R say that this was the end of her arc, she’d found herfamily and become a true hero—but the implication that death is the only way toend an arc is lazy and, in this case, hurtful. It comes off as “we couldn’tthink of anything else to do with her, so we killed her.” You can’t do betterthan that? Tony and Steve were gone. Natasha ran the Avengers, andpulled Nick Fury duty on top of it, for five years and death is the onlyend of her arc? Again, I know ScarJo’s contract is up, but that answer is justoffensive. In a perfect world, given the circumstances you’ve described the endof Nat’s arc would be continuing to lead the fucking Avengers.

9. I’d be fine with it—maybe all those office ladies wereright, maybe it would have felt pandering and sexist and deflating if Clint hadstolen Nat’s moment and died for her—but it’s kind of conspicuous that thereare only two female leads in this movie, Natasha and Nebula, and when both trulyexhibit their agency in their climactic moments, they choose to die. And Nebulakilling her past self to save Gamora is one of my favorite moments of the film!But god, there’s more to female agency than suicide, right?

10. I’d be fine with it—the way Steve cries when he findsout is gratifying and in-character—but Tony’s question of “Did she have anyfamily?” is fucking horrifying. You know she doesn’t, Tony, Jesus Christ.It was a sloppy, lazy setup just so Steve could say “Yeah. Us.” Which wasfucking unnecessary because we know that, that’s why she died for you. (Thecomedy reading, which is that Tony was implying she, like Clint, had a secretFarm Family is hilarious but, y’know. Not the right time.)

And speaking of the sir himself…

TONY

This one is a big case of “it’s not what you say, it’show you say it.” I didn’t expect Tony to get out of Endgame alive. (In fact, Ihad braced myself for a total party kill for the original six, which, if it hadbeen a TPK, I would have felt way better about it tbh. If they’d gone down one byone Rogue One style, at least the playing field would be even; that wouldremove a lot of the sting.) Tony’s the bedrock, he’s where we started, and ofcourse this would be the end of his road. He was going to go out big, he wasgoing to save the world. I knew that was the deal.

But they also gave him a little girl.

To my eyes, you can give Tony the ending he deserves—the endingwhere he and Pepper get to settle down, where he gets to be the father he neverhad, the one where he’s finally stable, finally at peace—or you can giveTony the Ending He Deserves—the one where he, the flagship, the starting pistolof the MCU, gets to vanquish Thanos saying “I am Iron Man.” Epic.

You… you lose me when you do both.

Here’s where I get my hackles up:

Were there any other outcomes you considered for Tony?

MARKUS No. Because we had the opportunity to give him theperfect retirement life, within the movie.

McFEELY He got that already.

MARKUS That’s the life he’s been striving for. Are he andPepper going to get together? Yes. They got married, they had a kid, it wasgreat. It’s a good death. It doesn’t feel like a tragedy. It feels like aheroic, finished life.

It is a fucking tragedy! Pepper is left alone with a fiveyear old girl! Pepper does not get a perfect, finished life. It’s a gross,reductive, alienating view of fatherhood, which is all the more starkly (punintended) contrasted when you compare him to Scott, a good dad whoactually gives a shit that he missed out on three years of Cassie’s lifein prison and then ANOTHER FIVE in the Quantum Realm. Honestly, this is whathappens when you don’t let women write these movies—the characterization formen suffers, too, not just women. Because it wasn’t even a factor to them.Like. They literally cut a scene from the movie where a vision of Morgan fromthe future absolved him of guilt for leaving his family behind. That’s… reallyawful, fellas. Surely you can see how awful that is?

I want to feel good about Tony’s death. I want to feelinspired. Part of me does. But god, that little girl. God, Pepper.

But then, it’s pretty much par for the course. Because it’sworth it to talk about 

WOMEN

This isn’t about how the one “Girl Power” shot wasshallow fanservice instead of substantive representation, how it makes no sensein the plot of the moment, or how it’s a totally empty gesture unless they planon giving us an A-Force movie (though all of those things are true).

It’s about how this movie has a gender problem in whichthe vast, vast majority of female characters got to be “badass” by bucklingunder the will of their male counterparts—and those who didn’t mostly justweren’t in it enough for that to be true.

Peggy doesn’t get any lines; she is presented not as thestrong, capable individual we know her to be but as a storybook reward forSteve’s good behavior after all these years. She is a prop, not a person.

Pepper is, for the thousandth time, defined as strong andcapable because she’s able to withstand all of the crap Tony puts on her. Ilove Tony/Pepper, I think they’re the beating heart of the MCU, their screwballenergy left a positive and indelible mark on the MCU that redefined how loveinterests work (well, barring Betty Ross, I’m so sorry Betty your movie isawful and you deserved so much better). But like. Tony gives her a company whenhe doesn’t want it anymore, he gives her a suit even though he knows she’s notinterested, he talks her into having a child together and then he leaves herbehind. Pepper is like an amazing, super intense version of one of those cookswho up-cycles leftovers into new, amazing, even-better-than-the-originaldishes. But she shouldn’t have to be, and she deserves better.

The same goes for Valkyrie, who is literally handedthe crown of Asgard for no other reason than because she’s there. It’s notthat she’s not capable, it’s not that she doesn’t deserve it, and it’s not thatshe won’t do an amazing job, but again: it’s a decision made at her. Why isthis still happening? (See also: Sam!Cap, and another way that Sam is stillgetting the Love Interest treatment after all of these years).

Carol was underused, and utilized entirely as a Deus ExMachina instead of as a person with feelings every time she did show up. Whileshe has the raw power to back up that plot usage, aside from her little smirkand “hey, Peter Parker,” we got almost no humanity from her. It’s not like theMCU is bad at establishing loads and loads of nuance in just a few lines—the massivejuggernaut that is Clint/Coulson shipping was launched when they exchanged twosentences to each other!—so it doesn’t feel like a lot to ask that Carol bein the scenes she’s in. You know?

For the most part, I really love how they handled Gamoraand Nebula, but the fact that 2014 them were Super Team Thanos flies directlyin the face of where both of them were at the start of GotG—and for Gamora tochange her mind after learning that in the future, she and Nebula are trulysisters when it’s Nebula who always wanted that for them is… a littlereductive. This was Their Movie—five more minutes to really tease out thenuance here would have really gone a long way.

Plus there was that whole scene where Frigga was like “actuallyit’s fine if I die; I’m just glad you’re okay honey. I feel so empowered inthis skimpy outfit. It has to be this way!” If Nat didn’t die the way she did, this scene would read differently! But she did! So it doesn’t!

Okay. Okay. I’m sure I’ve forgotten things that botheredme, but I have to stop somewhere so it might as well be here. In fact, here’s alist of things I really liked, to remind us all that I did like this movie:

America’s ass! “I could do this all day”/“I know!” ThePB&J cut diagonal! Cooper’s baseball mitt! Tony and Nebula playing PaperFootball! Nebula and Rhodey being best friends / “he’s an idiot!” Clint and Natforehead touch! Nat lounging on the takeout containers! When Hope calls Steve ‘Cap’and Scott gives her a little Look about it! Instant Kill Mode! Bruce and TheAncient One talk metaphysics—and the fact that Bruce is what is astrallyprojected out of Hulk! The redo of the elevator scene being subverted with “HailHydra!” Tony and Howard! Rocket’s much-needed frank pep talk to Thor! Ding dongditching 1970 Hank because he deserves that and so much worse! Tony revisitinghis Age of Ultron mentality at his lowest—frankly, it made me buy it in a wayall of AoU didn’t! Nebula murdering who she used to be so she can becomesomething new (let the past die, kill it if you have to amirite?)! Theindulgent credits sequence with the original 6 and their autographs! Quill’sface when he saw 2014 Gamora! TIME HEIST AS A CONCEPT LBR. Everyone’s funeralfashion choices, some of which are patently Bonkers! Smart Hulk having to riphis shirt off and pretend to enjoy smashing to blend in in 2012! The whole tacosight gag outside the compound! I love you 3000! Scott reuniting with Cassieand saying “you’re so big” instead of “you’re so tall!” Steve being Worthy!Thor doing a self-Fastball Special by hitting Mjolnir with Stormbreaker! YIBAMBE!

I don’t think I have ever cried as hard as I didwhen Sam said “on your left” and all of the Snapped heroes came back in Strange’sportals. Desperate, sobbing, joyful, elated, transported, awe-filled GASPINGkind of crying. I could hardly breathe. I really freaked out the guy next tome, I’ll tell you that.

I’m upset because these movies are good. This movie isgood. It made me feel… I don’t think I can describe the acute, painful ecstasyof that moment as long as I live, when everyone I loved, everyone gone,returned and returned and returned. I’m tearing up just describing it to younow.

I say these things because I care. I say these thingsbecause I don’t want to stop caring, and when characters I love are written inways I cannot understand, that I cannot abide, I am removed from the equation.And I am the damn target audience for this fucking movie. What I think matters.And it matters that I say it.

If you actually made it this far, I am very impressedwith your fortitude, and I thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[aeducanka]

OC Profile Meme

Thanks for the tag to the wonderful @gingerbreton!

I decided to go with my precious darling, Em!

(A part of my birthday present from wonderful Annorelka. Go follow her on deviantArt or Instagram! She is an amazing artist that you need in your life.)

________________________________________________________________

PHYSICAL

Name: Emerald Aeducan.

Nickname: to most people she is either Emerald or Em but when she was a child, her relatives used to call her "Emmie" (even in the Prologue Trian was still using this nickname in a condescending manner). To Sten Emerald is simply "Warden". Alistair, Zevran, Morrigan and Oghren sometimes call her "Princess" and only the context says whether the intention was playful or hurtful.

Age: 23 at the time of her recruitment to the Grey Wardens, had her 24th birthday slightly over a month later.

Species: dwarf (Orzammar).

Morality: (at the time of Prologue) self-proclaimed lawful good, (after the Prologue) self-proclaimed neutral good. It is debatable whether she is truly good or just a neutral with a strong inclination to do good, especially to the people she cares about.

PERSONAL

Religion: officially she believes in the Stone and you cannot prove otherwise.

That being said, she is a chief supporter ONLY of the reformed "church" of the Stone - the foundation stays the same, but the principles are as follows: good people enrich the Stone, assholes weaken it, and your nobility will not save you from the Stone's scrutiny SO YOU BETTER BE NICE.

Sins: greed/gluttony/sloth/lust/PRIDE/~envy~/wrath.

Emerald's greatest fault is her pride. Although the time spent in exile made her, more or less, aware of her shortcomings and able to express genuine humility (or even self-deprecation of sorts), Emerald, deep down, is convinced of her superiority to ALMOST EVERYONE. She knows that she is awesome, she has the papers to prove it, and even if she does not flaunt her superiority in your face, you still ~know~ that she judges you in the categories "If I were you, I would never make any of your mistakes". She goes to great lengths to change it as the Queen.

Virtues: chastity/ CHARITY/ DILLIGENCE/ humility/ KINDNESS/ ~patience~/ ~JUSTICE~.

Ooh, it is a tricky one since Emerald does her best to project an idealized version of herself. That being said, her humility is more often than not depression-induced so it does not really count. Her first marriage was very chaste, but then she did not love her husband and so I would not count is as genuine chastity. She may appear patient but she is still very much struggling with it. She is also very just for someone raised as a spoiled noblewoman, but due to her sheltered life, I feel that she has still a lot to learn.

Known languages: her mother tongue is Common as spoken in Orzammar. 

As Orzammar is a fairly isolationist kingdom, I cannot say how much impact there was on the princess learning foreign languages. A language nerd myself, I like to think that Emerald knows at least a little bit of Orlesian (due to Orlais being Orzammar's best trading partner) and Tevene (due to the dwarven minority living there), but it is purely my speculation. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

For sure Emerald picks up random words and phrases from Leliana, Zevran and Sten - partially because she is a nerd but mostly because she knows that ~being more understood~ would make them happy.

Build: scrawny/bony/slender/fit/ATHLETIC/~curvy~/herculean/pudgy/plus size/average.

A friend of mine saw Queen Emerald take off her shirt in the shower, and she said that Queen Emerald had an eight pack, that Queen Emerald was shredded.

(She seems curvy only to a non-dwarven eye, though. To dwarves her charms are only slightly above average.)

Height: ???

Scars/Birthmarks: information classified! She was lucky enough not to receive any scars that would be difficult to hide with casual clothing, though.

Abilities/Powers:

1. She is a born diplomat and a pacifist who will do her best to resolve a conflict without unnecessary bloodshed.

2. She is well-versed in Orzammar's politics and her unshakable composure attests to it.

3. She makes excellent first impressions and can befriend people easily. 

4. She is a good leader and advisor.

5. She makes for an empathetic friend who can listen to you rant for hours.

6. She is a good tactician and I firmly believe that she could beat Cullen in chess.

7. She is a trained warrior, by Landsmeet physically stronger than Alistair, who relies both on her smarts, her dexterity and strength.

8. She draws fun and happiness from the world's most boring hobbies which surely must be a some kind of witchcraft.

9. She shares Alistair's sense of humour, enough said.

Restrictions:

1. Her reputation of a fratricidal ex-princess makes any negotiations in Orzammar kind of difficult.

2. She speaks very posh which triggers some people's *Oghren, cough, Oghren* bratty princess alert.

3. Despite being well-versed in politics, she is a bit too idealistic, too merciful, and she used to trust her family members blindly.

4. Her composure does not really falter even among friends which gives off an impression that she is keeping distance... which she is, but not to THAT extent.

5. She is an excellent advisor… until she becomes frustrated because her advice is not listened to and her input is ignored.

6. She is good at listening to people for long periods of time, but if it is not important, she may not give the rant her full attention (getting just enough gist not to be accused of ignoring the person and dismissing the most of it when it is no longer useful).

7. She does not step up for a leadership position, despite her qualifications, unless the circumstances literally force her to do so.

8. As much as tactics go, she is miserable with games other than chess because either she will not realize that her opponent is a cheater (Isabella, round 1) or, which is worse, she will not be able to prove that her opponent is cheating (Isabella, round 2).

9. She is smart and well-trained but not very inspired as a warrior. She could be defeated by stronger people, more dexterous people, smarter people, luckier people or people who, like Kallista Tabris, are very dedicated to their craft.

FAVOURITES:

Food: anything that hails from Orzammar! Nothing makes you long for your local cuisine better than a bitter exile. Also, she would not put herself above eating a nug. Sorry, Leliana!

Pizza topping: (modern AU) corn and mushrooms. Emerald is by no means a vegetarian but she is very picky about meat so in most cases - a vegetarian pizza it is!

Colour: her all-time favourite is purple, but, frankly, Emerald is the embodiment of "Do you like the colour of the sky?" meme. Her exile to the surface made her aware of a brand new palette of colours and she loves them all. That being said, early on her "comfort" colours were the subdued earthy colours of Orzammar.

Music genre: she mostly listens to instrumentals, both in the canon and in the modern AU. She is very picky with songs, though I could see her enjoying a band as “low brow” as ABBA. During her exile she develops a soft spot for Fereldan folk songs and Leliana's Orlesian-Fereldan repertoire. 

Movie genre: Emerald is not much of a movie fan. Generally, she does not have time for them. She mostly watches documentaries with some classics/awards nominated movies thrown in for a good measure. She could be persuaded to watch something entirely outside her watching preferences when quality time with friends is the main incentive.

Curse words: Emerald does not cuss, especially not in public, but I think that there are certain dwarven words she says in her thoughts when the situation goes badly.

Scents: Emerald does not like the smell of the rain and she even agrees with Sten about Ferelden smelling like a wet dog, but during her rule there is nothing she misses more.

FUN STUFF:

Bottom or top: that is disgusting. And wrong. I don’t even get- why would- Her Royal Highness has never had sex with anyone, anywhere. It is none of your- you have- the nerve, the audacity, she is the Queen of Orzammar and about to get married. Warden Alistair is her former companion, barely, and he is just awful, humour-wise. And how- how- do I know, frankly, that you are not sleeping with him? Maybe you are. Maybe you are trying to throw me off? Hmm, check and mate.

Sings in the shower: not all all, she is too aware of her lack of singing talent. Sometimes she hums to herself, though.

Likes puns: all kinds of them, with strong preference to Alistair ones, and ability to make almost EXCLUSIVELY the terrible ones.

________________________________________________________________

Phew! It was a long one. Sorry, I have a tendency for writing much more than I should. ^^”

Tagging: @bitchesofostwick, @bluekaddis, @etoilebinaire, @dekudoodle, @lady--revan and @visionmarred (Hi! Reverienne here!), @gingerbreton (Freya? 👀). As always, there is absolutely no pressure!

Tagging back is fine but only at your own risk!

[eryiss]

Freed Justine Weekend - Day 1

So, it’s Freed Justine Weekend again. I couldnt think of anything to write for a full one-shot, so instead i decided to write some drabbles based on the prompts by @freedjustineappreciation on the announcment post. 

I’ll upload half today and half tomrrow. Today’s will be more lighthearted, while tomorrow’s will be a little darker and have more Freed-The-Dark moments. 

Guild Mark

Surrounded by a circle of runes, the magic energy around him creating a wind that filled the cathedral, Freed found himself pushed to his limited. The barrier surrounding Magnolia was strong, designed to withstand any attack that was put against it, and maintaining such a powerful, unbreakable enchantment was draining Freed’s magic faster than he had expected.

He could hold out, but not indefinitely. His knowledge of his opponent was limited, but he knew they were strong enough to attack again. Freed needed to keep his enchantment up until a time where that risk was gone. Releasing the barrier for even a second could give their enemies their opening.

The safety of everyone in Magnolia rested with him.

With a hardened expression, he cast his eyes to the cold floor and flowed as much magic as he could into the casting circle. He closed his eyes, not allowing anything to distract himf from maintaining his enchantment. His right iris burned as he shifted the magic usually used for his Dark Écriture into Jutsu Shiki.

Releasing a breath, he allowed his eyes to open as he tried to keep a consistent stream of magic flowing into the runes. It was getting harder and harder to maintain. He was getting weaker and weaker, and found his resilience failing.

His gaze settled on his right hand.

Across it laid the mark of his guild. The curving shape that personified the ideals of Fairy Tail. The morals that stated you should never give up, that you should never judge those without first giving them hope, that you should always forgive those who are worthy. The small mark that perfectly encapsulated his family, his life and his existence.

But to him the mark was more than that. It was a promise.

A constant reminder of what he was now. All his power, all his strength, was to be accredited to Fairy Tail. They had raised him, helped him, and had forgiven him for his past tresspasses. The mark on his hand maintained his morality, reminded him of the kindness showed to him by his family. By keeping this mark on his hand, he was promising to reciprocate the mercy he had been shown.

His guild was in danger, and he was the main line of defence. If he needed to burn through every last scarp of magical energy to keep them safe, then he would do so. He knew they would do the same for him.

Placing both hands on the cold floor of Magnolia Cathedral – the stage of his previous betrayal of his guild – he channelled every bit of magic he could into his runes. The barrier, which has shrunk slightly in his doubt, grew out and managed to cover every inch of his hometown. The barrier was immovable, impenetrable, and was going to keep them safe.

Then came the next attack. It was vicious.

The barrage of opposing magic fought against his shied, making his grit his teeth as the small dents made were replaced by more of his energy. He looked to the ground, keeping his gaze on his guild mark so that he could be reminded of his promise.

Through gritted teeth, he fought through the onslaught and managed to keep his enchantment strong. He was panting heavily as he tried to recover from the sudden loss of magic energy. His head dropped and his grip on the stone floor lessened slightly, allowing himself a slight respite as he knew that, if another attack was coming, it would at least take the enemy mage some time to recuperate.

After he felt his magic coming back to him, a determined expression crossed his face. He sent a pulse of energy into the runes, widening the coverage of the barrier and making it slightly thicker for better protection.

He knew that the enemy would be watching from their ship. He expected that they would see the advancement of the barrier. He hoped the meaning of the action was clear.

Not my fucking family.

Bonds Within The guild

“Wendy, may I speak with you for a moment.”

The fourteen-year-old girl looked up at the mention of her name, seeing Freed standing by the table she was sitting at. A small, cone-shaped hat was attached to her head, and the remanence of wrapping paper scattered across the table. Her birthday party was nearing its end, with the large cake all but eaten on the bar top, both guildmates and friends talking to one another, and a large stack of presents waiting beside the door.

She nodded, excusing herself from the table and slowly following Freed throughout the guildhall. Faltering a little at the spiral staircase that lead to the S-Class only balcony, the small smile from the rune gave her the confidence to follow him. She silently noted how different the guildhall looked form above.

Freed guided her towards a table at the edge of the balcony, which was usually reserved for Laxus and The Raijinshuu. Today, however, it was empty. After Freed motioned for Wendy to take a seat, she did so. Freed followed suit, sitting opposite her.

“Is something wrong, Freed?” She asked, a little concerned as to why he wanted to speak to her.

“Not at all,” Freed assured, smiling. “I just wanted some privacy so that I could give you your gift from the Raijinshuu, nothing more.”

Wendy frowned a little. She had already gotten gifts from Freed, Evergreen and Bickslow individually. Good gifts, too. Freed had gifted her a first edition of a book she had loved when she lived in Cait Shelter. She had seen the very same edition over half a year ago when she was on a mission with Freed and Laxus, and had only mentioned her fondness for it in passing. He must have returned to the store, brought it despite the high price, and kept it hidden until her birthday.

“You don’t need to do that,” She assured him. “What you’ve already given me is more than enough.”

“Please, I insist,” Freed smiled, pulling a small piece of paper from his coat pocket. “Although, I feel I should clarify, this is more of an offer than a gift, really.”

After Freed placed the paper on the table, Wendy pulled it towards herself and looked over it. It was a contract, similar to the one that she had signed when she had entered the guild, only a little different. She frowned, pausing a little when she sure what the contract was called: Additional Team Member Request Form.

“You-you want me to join your team?” She asked, a little shocked.

It wasn’t a ridiculous notion. She had gravitated towards the Raijinshuu almost naturally. After going on missions with Freed and Bickslow which had both gone well, Makarov suggested that she try and go on a mission with the team as a whole. He had claimed that it would help her as she could try harder missions, which would push her, and it would also help in making The Raijinshuu more social in the guild; looking back, they really could be anti-social at times.

After the first mission had gone well, she went on another. Then another. It got to the point where most missions they went on, Wendy was given the option to come with them. When Laxus had returned from an S-Class mission that had taken him from the guild for an extended period of time, he didn’t seem to care about her joining on their missions without being part of the team. He then revealed that he did the same thing.

So, although it was an odd fit, it was natural. It was now common knowledge that Wendy went on missions with The Raijinshuu sometimes. Nobody cared, that was just the way things had turned out.

“As I said, it’s an offer so don’t feel forced into it,” Freed smiled. “But you’ve joined the Raijinshuu on many missions over the last year or two, and you work very well with us. And, to be candid, we are all very fond of you, and would love it if you would consider being a permanent member of the team.”

“A-are you sure?” She asked, still looking at the contract. Freed’s team had known each other for a long time, she didn’t want to impose.

“We wouldn’t offer if we weren’t,” Freed assured, making Wendy relax a little. “And don’t worry, we know you’re close with more people in the guild than just us, and you don’t exclusive do missions with us. That certainly wont have to change, and we’ll never insist you cut ties with people on our account. And of course, Carla will also join if you so wish.”

Wendy waited for a moment. “You really want me in your team?”

“it would be an honour, Ms Marvell.”

The sound of a chair being pushed back and falling against the railing made some members of the guild look up. They were given the sight of Wendy rushing around the table, wrapping her arms around Freed’s torso in a hug and burying her face in his shoulder.

“Thank you,” She mumbled, her voice quivering a little.

“No thanks are needed,” Freed smiled, patting her head somewhat awkwardly. “Welcome to the team.”

Sense of Humour

It was possible that this entire situation was getting out of hand.

Somehow, a conversation about the laughs of guildmembers had arisen. It had become apparent that nobody could remember quite what Freed’s voice actually sounded like; vague ideas were tossed about, but nothing solid. To quell their confusion, the group of mages had spent the next hour trying to make the rune-mage laugh, but to no avail. A regular person would have given up there, but Fairy Tail mages were not regular people.

So, two days after the realisation Freed’s laughter was a mystery to most of the guild, a comedy night had been arranged in the guildhall; nobody was quite sure how. Almost every mage knew the real purpose, to do something that would make Freed laugh, revealing both what the laugh sounded like and what could cause it.

But the night was nearly over. He had not yet laughed.

Many people had tried and failed, and it had become more of a competition as to who could achieve this seemingly unattainable goal. Anybodybut his team, Laxus and other people he was close to were allowed to participate; they knew him too well for it to be fair.

Currently Natsu was standing on the small stage, performing a totally kick-ass comedy routine where he was revealing the blackmail he had on Gray to the guild – a hilarious routine despite the average at best reception. He was the last act and, as Freed had yet to do any more than a light chuckle, it was all up to him. The only problem was, a picture perfect description of Gray falling down a hill and landing face first in a particularly dirty lake wasn’t funny to Freed.

He was too good for slapstick, apparently.

The dragon slayer was getting desperate now, resulting to making up stories – ignoring the shouts from Gray about their falseness – and still getting nowhere. The five minutes of stage time he was permitted was quickly close to ending, and he would be damned if he lost. So he did the first thing that came to mind.

Grabbed a tankard of beer and threw it over himself… for some reason.

Not his best plan really.

The gathered crowd of mages looked at Natsu with confusion, an awkward silence crossing them all. Nobody seemed to understand what the fire-mage thought would happen; the evening had clearly proven that stories of slapstick weren’t Freed’s preferred form of comedy, so why he thought that a live version of it – and a pretty crappy one at that – would work didn’t make any sense. Natsu blushed a little at the eyes on him.

And then somebody laughed. A deep, somewhat velvety laugh that echoed throughout the guildhall, coming from a table at the back. All eyes slowly turned to the source, not quite believing their ears until they saw it. Freed was laughing. At Natsu. Who had just drenched himself in beer.

“Are you kidding me?” Cana eventually broke the silence. “That’s what gets you? Seriously?”

More members of the crowd joined in, claiming that they had put time into their own comedy routine and that they were much funnier than Natsu; to which Natsu yelled back and said that they were all just jealous because he had done the impossible and they hadn’t. This simply made Freed laugh louder and harder.

“I’m afraid it’s not you making me laugh, Natsu,” Freed chuckled a little, his laughter dying down. “Did you honestly think I didn’t know what you were all doing?”

Again, the room fell to silence. Honestly, the thought of Freed knowing what was happening hadn’t occurred to anyone. They had been sure not to discuss the comedy night’s true purpose when he was around, and had thought that they had gotten away with it easily. Looking towards Freed, with the smugness radiating from the man practically filling the room, it was obvious that their confidence was misplaced.

“This guild is filed with gossips, constant yelling and people with enhanced hearing. You honestly thought I wouldn’t find out?” Freed continued to chuckle.

“So, all night, you’ve just been forcing yourself not to laugh, so we’d make idiots of ourselves?” Gray asked.

“Yes; for the shows I enjoyed at least,” Freed smirked, standing up with a grin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe your acts are completed. Thank you for a wonderful night.”

Everyone watched as Freed slowly walked to the door, realising that they had clearly been played by the rune mage. Some people were annoyed – particularly Gray, who’s secrets wouldn’t have been revealed by Natsu if this didn’t happen – while some people found the entire situation equal parts funny and ridiculous.

Just as Freed placed a hand on the door, he looked back to see most of the guild were still watching him intently. He smirked a little at his audience, deciding he could have a little more fun with them. He turned around fully and addressed his guildmates.

“I should say, one of you really did get me. I had to put a rune on myself to stop the laughter,” He informed. “I’ll let you figure out who it was.”

And with that, he left. A chorus of shouting, claiming ownership of the laughter and all around chaos followed him.

[handlewithkara]

Just some more overly detailed thoughts on “my” Daxam, how I tend to write it. 

In a lot of ways, my stories are kind of related in a lot of ways. They aren’t really in the same universe or anything, but the vision I have of Daxam tends to be similar across my stories and a lot of ideas that get introduced in one story show up in other stories. Such as there being a a goddess of love and sex named Lirra. 

According to wikipedia there is Kryptonian goddess of beauty named Lorra. I changed it to Lirra to show that Kryptonians and Daxmites have modified versions of the same religion. Like ancient Romans and Greeks. 

Another concept that shows up in a lot of stories of mine is the concept that on Daxam children are sent to the temple of the goddess of love and sex to receive “practical” sex education. 

A lot of how I write Daxam is my probably spending way too much effort trying to fix that feel like plot holes in the show. I try to make some things fit in a way that makes sense to me. 

Such as Kara having heard of the prince but not reacting to Mon-El’s name. In Boy and His Comet the concept is done even more extreme with there also being a lot of body doubles. 

I suspect that the Daxam I write is a lot bleaker than what other people write. This mostly comes from me trying to create something that to me feels closest to a place that would explain how show!Mon-El seems to feel about Daxam. I see the following things as the cornerstones of show!Mon-El’s relationship with Daxam: 

He obviously spent most of his life “playing along” on Daxam

He kneejerk defends it when he and Kara first clash and Kara talks bad about it

What he said about drugs on Daxam

He seemed to fear or dislike his father more than his mother, even though Rhea clearly is more evil than Lar

He seemed very defeatist that Daxam could be changed. I read his speech to Lar more as a last ditch effort rather than something he really believes 

Based on how he was thrown in a cell, led away from his “wedding” to Lena, and of course attacked by other Daxamites during the big battle at the end of season , he clearly had no powerbase of his own

I guess in a lot of ways my Daxam is a bit my personal explanation for why show Mon-El didn’t want to go back to Daxam, as well as providing some explanation for the way Rhea and Lar interact with each other and how Mon-El relates to them. That’s why my stories tend to be sort of the antithesis of Mon-El as the cool all powerful, respected prince, why there are so many scenes in Boy and His Comet where Mon-El thinks his decisions at the council meetings might just get overruled. Or how he strongly suspects that people just won’t do what he says if they feel it’s a bad idea or not in the interest of the queen. 

In Boy and his Comet in particularly, Daxam is more like a really oppressive police state filled with people who want to claw their way to the top and all the sex and partying is really just a thin layer over it. I also have this headcanon which hasn’t explicitly shown up in any story yet (but would have shown up in Sky Without Stars) that the royal family takes a different brand of drugs that aren’t addictive the way the drugs of the regular population are (to explain why show!Mon-El didn’t show any major withdrawal symptoms). Also that Daxamite soldiers are always high with combat stimulants when they fight (in my head canon it improves their reaction times and makes them feel no remorse when killing, makes them all energetic and eager to fight and makes them feel no fear).  

Another concept that comes up in some of my stories or that at least is there underneath is that the reason why Mon-El isn’t already latched is because Rhea doesn’t want it. That as long as he isn’t latched he is essentially like a kid still living with his parents, but if he got latched, she would have to give him a house of his own, his own powerbase and Rhea doesn’t want that, because she is paranoid about competition (in my head canon she murdered some of her relatives to get on top, so Rhea’s ascent to power was somewhere between a grand love story and a successful coup, because she had the backing of the military). For what it’s worth, the Sky Without Stars headcanon is that Rhea is generally the sexually aggressive partner 98% of the time. In my headcanon Lar also sleeps around (but loves Rhea, or rather is addicted to her). Rhea to me actually has very little interest in other lovers (other than what she has to do because it is Daxamite custom), mostly because deep down she really only loves power and she “loves” Lar because he is the one who gave her power and she has particular interest in sleeping with anybody who has less power than Lar. That’s also why she is so quick to kill him when he threatens to get in her way. (that’s also why it’s my headcanon that Lar genuinely never seriously got in her way before and has always just let her do what she wants and supported her blindly) 

Another concept is that Rhea intentionally kept Mon-El away from Lar and essentially only brought Lar around when there were punishments to deal out. In Sky Without Stars in particular my headcanon is that Lar loved Rhea and she demanded of him that Mon-El must be hers and hers alone. 

I also have a headcanon pivotal moment to explain why Mon-El is so horrified by his father but that is in a chapter that has never been posted. I also tend to stay away from depictions where there was a lot of physical abuse, particularly not at the end of Lar. I tend to write the relationship between Mon-El and Lar as part giant misunderstanding (because Rhea lied to Mon-El about Lar) and part Lar turning a blind eye or ignoring Mon-El. I go back and forth on there having been physical abuse from Rhea, depending on the story but even if it’s there, I tend to write it as it being something relatively rare and the abuse is more emotional and in the form of mind fuckery. Some of that will show up in the next few chapters of Boy and His Comet. 

Speaking of which, there was actually a flashback to Mon-El’s childhood that I kept purposefully vague. It will also stay vague. But the explanation for it is that the woman who tried to kill Mon-El when he was a kid was a mistress of Lar. She managed to get herself pregnant (somehow circumventing the whole birth matrix thing) and out of anger Rhea poisoned her so she lost the child (that’s why there is blood on her dress when she comes after Mon-El). This scene was inspired by a scene from a historical fiction book on the Ottoman empire where the king’s favorite wife loses her child due to poisoning from the first wife. 

I also tend to headcanon that Rhea (despite the science expertise she showed on the show) as being a military person, a lot like Astra in season 1. After all she seemed to be in charge of the attack and she didn’t fear getting her hands dirty dueling with Kara. So in my headcanon she is the general of the troops and they adore her and are loyal only to her. In Sky Without Stars my headcanon is even that she “won” Lar because she was such a good warrior and conqueror (and by murdering the woman he was originally promised to). So I guess it is safe to say that I write Rhea was very violent and very ruthless.

I kind of expand this concept for me personally by writing Daxam as having a strong religious underpining. Now that part is really made up because there weren’t really a ton of signs that the Daxamites are very religious (other than Rhea saying For The Gods and I think the Daxamite ship had like these stone statues in them?) and of course most notably Mon-El isn’t very religious it seems. Still, because I personally like writing alien religions, I tend to write Daxam with these strong religious elements. In Sky Without Stars in particular the image in my mind was that in a way this is how Lar and Rhea distributed the work load, that Rhea is military and Lar acts as something like a high priest of their religion.

Of course the majority of my Daxamite headcanons concern sex and relationships. I freely admit a lot of these are mostly wild extrapolations in the interest of more porny setups. Such as there being lots of casual and very public sex (like Mon-El in Song of the Teacher mentioning that he saw his parents have sex in public to celebrate a great victory). 

Another concept that is there underneath in Boy and His Comet and that would have shown up in Song Of The Teacher is that Daxam is very much okay with same-sex sex (”the more, the merrier”) it actually would be heavily frowned on for anybody to be exclusively gay, or exclusively straight for that matter. This is kind of represented in Song Of The Teacher where Mon-El says that sex on Daxam is like shaking hands and it would be weird if you didn’t shake hands with somebody just because of their sex. This is in a way the underneath conflict of the two side characters in Boy and His Comet, that in this couple, one woman is pretty open about not having any use for men and her lover constantly has to smooth things over in that regard. And Mon-El is sort of being a pal by inviting them to threesomes where he doesn’t touch Raina (the exclusively lesbian one) and in that way helps them keep up their cover. 

Another frequent concept of mine is that in a strange way Daxam almost enforces casual relationships. Again, this is a pretty big topic in Boy and His Comet that actually all kinds of serious romantic and exclusive relationships are pretty much forbidden. But a similar concept shows up in Song of the Teacher where Mon-El explains to Kara

“Your responsibility is to your latch.” He shrugged. “I guess we believe that love is fleeting. You enjoy each other. You have good times together. But you also move on and enjoy yourself with others. But your family, and your latch, is forever.”

In Boy and His Comet Rhea’s thinking is in essence that strong romantic bonds are a threat to her. Let’s say Rhea wanted to execute somebody, then their lover would want to protect them or take revenge and rebel in that way. 

I have this unposted, unfinished story concept where Karamel are at a Daxamite club and Mon-El mentions that a certain song that is playing is surely gonna be banned and be put on the index because it speaks of romantic love and laying down your life for the one you love and Rhea won’t have that. Another idea there was Mon-El mentioning to Kara that officially all Daxamite love songs about a woman are about the queen and all love songs about a man are about the king. Because of course you are allowed to lay down your life for the queen. (but I had to scrap that concept because it was a Boy and His Comet spinoff story where Mon-El thinks Kara is Daxamite and that’s not the kind of thing he would say to another Daxamite, since he would just assume that a Daxamite would know that)

[frodos-bizarre-adventure]

Merman x Bandit Girl

A little thing I originally posted on @monstersandmaw (and also to @monsterkinkmeme) and while they were nice enough to share it on their blog, they did say that their site was exclusively for their own works and and for prompts.

So again, apologies to you guys to any inconveniences I might have caused. I'm just rather new to Tumblr and still trying to get the hang of stuff, and I just wanted to share a little thing for you guys' viewing pleasure. Feel free to share it from here instead if you wish, and hope you enjoy it :)

⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫

Escape.

It was the only thought I harbored in my mind as I laboriously dragged myself to the steps of the cargo hold leading up to the deck. I was a truly pitiful sight, a powerful, graceful, and (to the wrong people) deadly creature, now feeble, helpless, outside my element.

If only I could make it up to the deck, I thought, as I reached the bottom step of the stairs and placed a webbed hand onto the wooden rung. None of the crew were probably awake at this time.

All I’d have to do was to scale the short flight of steps, up to the deck, drag myself across the ship, haul myself up over the railing and leap overboard, to freedom.

Which was easier said than done, when you got no legs and holding your breath the whole time.

With great effort, I tried to pull myself up the few steps, my wet, slippery hands trying to find purchase onto the steps while my tail dragged uselessly behind like dead weight.

Damn, this was humiliating.

If only the rest of my pod could see me now. They, who spoke of how dreadful the landwalkers were, with their woven traps and spears of death, who killed and plundered the ocean’s inhabitants without mercy. Who would pay dearly to get their dirty scaleless hands onto one of our kind.

I had been too arrogant, and now I paid the price.

I wanted to see for myself just how dreadful these creatures were, and see it I did.

“Going somewhere, eh, fish-boy?”

I barely had enough time to register the voice before a heavy blow connected with my face, sending me sprawling across the floor. I turned, barely catching a glimpse of the captain’s ugly mug before a boot-clad foot landed heavily onto my back and pinned me to the floor, knocking the breath out of my ‘lungs’.

(Well, not exactly lungs. I have no lungs and cannot breathe air. They were more like gills within my chest, openining out through four pairs of slits in my ribs out of which I exhaled water–ah dammit. I’m no educated scholar and in no place to explain how my lungs, or gills, or whatever they were, functioned to help me breathe…)

But I did know that they needed water.

Water that I’d coughed out from the breath I was holding, now spilled out onto the floor and of no use to me.

My panicked gasps only drew the stinging, unfulfilling air into my chest, choking me with its emptiness. I struggled feebly against the captain’s unrelenting boot while he, with his one green eye and cruel, crooked grin, peered sadistically down at me.

“Well, well, well,” he growled. “Looks like our catch of the day is trying to make a getaway, eh?”

I flopped helplessly under his weight, turning my head desperately toward the bucket in the cargo hold and the life-giving liquid it contained. They’d locked me into the hold with only that bucket to keep me alive, with just enough water to breathe out of.

Water that was hopelessly out of my reach.

Two crew members, probably roused by the noise of the fiasco, entered the hold to take a look and bellowed in laughter, cruelly mocking my torment. “Looks like the little fishy wants the water,” guffawed one, watching me gasping feebly and reaching out deperately for the old wooden pail.

My head began to spin as my vision started fading. I needed water very soon, or else... or else I would die.

The captain cackled, “Listen here, fish-boy, do as I say, and maybe we’ll let you live once you hit land. You’re gonna be worth a fortune once the merchants get their eyes on a real, live Mer,” he gloated, greedily eyeing me from the top of my pale-haired head to my crimson tail fin. “But of course, if you refuse to cooperate…" 

He threateningly laid a hand onto my precious bucket.

Oh no.

He knew I couldn't survive very long without water, and now he was using it against my mind, to break my will.

Please. No.

”…then we could just let ‘cha dry up and die so you’ll finally shut up, eh? I’m pretty sure your smelly carcass would still be worth some gold, heh heh heh. You know the folks by the southlands say that eating the flesh of a mermaid will make you live forever?“

I gagged at the thought, in addition to my gags of suffocation.

“That is, unless you wanna live, eh fish-boy? So what’s it gonna be? You gonna keep still quit thrashing about?”

I hated to comply to the disgusting man’s wishes, but I had no choice. Begrudgingly, I nodded in approval.

“There’s a good fishy,” he crooned. “They’ll find a nice home for you at the freak show or somethin, heh heh.”

He released the crushing weight of his foot from my back and at once I struggled toward the bucket, frantically gasping for air, dry, scorching air that stung my parched gills and choked me from within. My chest burned, my throat ached, my skin itched, my entire body was violently begging for water.

Water.

The captain and his crewmates still said something as they walked up back from the deck, but their words were drowned out in the dizzying haze that clouded my mind, seconds away from losing consciousness. I squirmed and wriggled and flopped frantically, desperately, toward the pail of salvation, with nothing, none but a single thought racing through my mind:

“waterwaterwaterwaterwaterWATERWATERWATERWATER–”

With a loud splash I dunked my head into the bucket, inhaling convulsively as water rushed into my gills again. Despite my dire situation I at least felt slightly more safe now, now that I wasn’t suffocating anymore.

It was a relief from the pain of drying out.

It felt good to breathe again. 

It wasn’t long before the last of my strength left me, and I passed out. I was a pathetic sight, pale like a drowned corpse with my head dunked in a pail, my graceful fins all slopped limply onto the wooden floor like wet rags, lying motionlessly upon the floor and barely alive.

But nonetheless, still alive.

————————–

I had no clue how many hours had passed when I was awoken by a loud scuffle above on deck. Taking a deep breath of water, I lifted my head out of the pail to see what was going on, just as the captain’s crew tossed a heavy, struggling bundle into the hold, which landed next to me with a loud thud.

“Why don'tcha stay down there with the man-fish, you thieving whore of a sea rat!” yelled a crewmember from above.

“Do you think it’s gonna eat her?” whispered another.

Her?

Holding my breath, I cautiously crawled toward the thrashing, wailing bundle and pulled off the tattered dirty cloth covering it, taking my first look at what was going to be my new room-mate for the next few days to come.

It was a human girl.

Her dark, curly hair covered much of her face, but I could see the surprise and terror in her big, brown eyes as she quickly looked at whatever had pulled the bag off of her head. She stopped struggling against her bonds, thick and heavy ropes knotted firmly around her ankles and wrists, and stared at me, a faint, terrified whimper emerging from the back of her throat.

I don’t think she’s ever seen a merman before.

Pulling myself back to my bucket to take another breath, I curiously inspected the newcomer from a distance. She was a brown-skinned little one, clad in colorful fabrics and with strange, shiny stones dangling from her ears, and her hair, though messy, beautifully crowned her narrow, elegant face.

Beautiful.

Maybe I was going mad from the lack of water, but somehow this accursed, monstrous landwalker was beautiful.

A pain in my chest suddenly snapped my mesmerized gaze from her and I dunked my head back into the bucket to take another breath. Her frightened glare turned into a sort of horrified fascination as she struggled into a sitting position to get a better look at the strange flopping, gasping, scaly creature before her.

“W-w-what are you?” she stuttered.

Peering up from my bucket, I met her gaze and nodded, pointing to myself.

“You-you can understand me?”

I nodded, eager to make a connection with this fascinating being, sure, one of those landwalkers, but still, company after being alone for way too long.

“Can you-can you talk?”

I shook my head in slight dismay. Of course I was able to speak- underwater, that is. But I couldn’t speak without water, or even breathe, for that matter, so for now, some nods and shakes had to do.

She looked down at me, at my dry and flaking scales and at the numerous bleeding cuts I had sustained from flopping about on the splintery floor. Her face turned into a wince of pity.

“Those bastards,” she muttered. “Look what they’ve done to you, you poor…thing.”

Poor thing, eh.

She was just as much a 'poor thing’ as I was, her ankles and wrists bound in ropes, bruises and cuts blemishing her face, her clothes tattered and torn, and locked up in a cargo ship bound for prison or death.

They’d treated me with unspeakable cruelty, but it seemed that they treated their own kind no better. Those bastards, indeed.

“Say,” she whispered, after a moment. “You couldn’t be one of those Mer-people I’ve been hearing about, are you? You look an awful lot like what the old sailors spoke of, one half handsome lad, one half scaly fish, hmm?” she laughed dryly.

I nodded.

“Eh. I wonder how a creature like you somehow ended up in this shithole of a boat.”

I wished I could speak.

I wished I could tell her, how I was hauled up in a net, tied up by the crew, how I chewed through my binds with my sharp teeth and whacked them around with my tail, taking almost half the crew to subdue me. Boy, that would have been a tale to tell, if only I could talk to her, in the air and outside of the water–

Wait.

Ropes.

Sharp teeth.

Taking another breath from my bucket, I dug my hands into the floor and pulled myself toward her, my tail scraping painfully across the wooden floor. She inched backwards slightly, seemingly alarmed by my sudden approach, as I grabbed her bound hands, causing her to whimper uneasily.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” she cried, as she saw a flash of my pearly white pointed teeth.

I raised a finger gently, trying to tell her that I meant her no harm. I didn’t know if she understood, but I started getting to work.

She held back a muffled scream. Perhaps she thought I was going to devour her?

Was that what the old sailors had taught her about merfolk?

Her terror quickly vanished though, as the ropes around her wrists snapped. Suddenly, a look of joyful realization crept across her face.

“Oh,” she gasped. “You’re helping me escape.”

I nodded.

It wasn’t long before my sharp teeth made quick work of the bindings around her ankles. She stretched her legs in relief, as I retreated to take another breath from my bucket.

I couln’t help but gaze at her legs. They seemed so strange, so alien, almost like a pair of extra arms where a tail should be, but with stubby little fingers that were useless for grasping. They were so bizarre and yet strangely enchanting, and I couldn’t help but marvel in awe as she rose to a standing position, her unwieldy limbs supporting her weight in this choking emptiness of an atmosphere.

She headed up the steps of the cargo hold, up toward the deck. My heart sank as I realized she was leaving me.

She looked back and met eyes with once more.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She started to head up the steps but suddenly hesitated, and she turned back again and I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she said sorrowfully.  “I’m sorry I can’t take you with me.”

But as she took one long look around the cargo hold, she stopped in surprise.

As if having a sudden grand realization.

“Or can I?”

———————-

It was a stupid solution.

A novel, but utterly stupid solution.

She had located two other buckets in the hold, and had filled them with water from one of the barrels that had been placed on a high shelf. She placed one at the foot of the stairs, and another one out onto the deck. Fortunately, the crew were all asleep at this point, and there was none to witness the strange sight of a girl hauling a bucket of water out onto the deck of a ship in the middle of the night.

“Well, here goes nuthin’,” she groaned, as she stepped back down into the hold. “You’re clearly too heavy for me to carry, so you’ll have to crawl there on your own. But at least I helped, a little. It’s the best I can do.”

I smiled and nodded back at her.

She smiled back. “It’s the least I can do for the merman who saved my life.”

And with a swift step she was gone, heading up onto the deck to freedom.

Slowly I began to drag myself toward the bucket at the base of the stairs. It was actually a pretty clever idea, I couldn’t get past this point without suffocating and having to head back. She’d given me a couple of rest stops to breathe from. I could only hold by breath on land for a couple of minutes, and her little trick here was a lifesaver.

Literally.

Taking a deep breath from the bucket below the stairs, I headed up the steps one rung at a time. It was still difficult with my arms doing all the work and my tail weighing me down, but with a gillful of water from the second bucket I had the strength to haul myself upward, step by step until I flopped exhausted onto the deck.

Before me was the third and final bucket. One more stop and I was almost there to freedom.

Having taken a breath from it, one last breath before my escape, I headed toward the railing of the ship. The sound of the waves was tantilizingly close, the salty smell of the breeze, the splashing of the water onto the deck…

I was almost free.

Suddenly, just as I was a few drags away from the railing, I heard a loud scream behind me. I turned and looked, and to my horror, I saw the landwalker girl, caught in the iron grasp of the evil, bloodthirsty captain, screaming in terror as he seized her by one arm.

“Well, if it ain’t the little bitch, trying to make a getaway in one of our lifeboats!” He glared out with his one eye at me, laying upon the wooden floor. “And you’ve freed our little fish friend too, eh? I won’t get a bag of gold for him now, but your blood would make a pretty neat consolation prize, you wretched whore!”

He lifted up a curved blade and pointed it at her throat.

Damn it, was I ever in a dilemma.

On one side, the freedom of the ocean just a few feet away.

And on the other, the life of a landwalker girl.

And never have I thought I would make such an unexpected choice.

In the biggest turn of events in all my life I found myself turning away from the sea, giving up my chance at escape for a landwalker girl I’d barely even known for a day.

And yet somewhere in my flopping, suffocating, water-deprived heart I knew I wouldn’t regret that decision.

——————-

With a terrible unearthly cry I launched myself at the captain, pinning him to the floor. I never even knew how I managed to make such a horrible sound outside the water, or how I'd covered such a distance in just a few flops, but I didn’t even care at the moment.

I was way too fucking pissed off.

I viciously tore at the captain with my claws, teeth, and all my hate, with all the torment and suffering I had endured at his hand for the past few days, with all the brutality he had inflicted onto this poor landwalker girl I didn’t even have a name for, clawing and biting at his face with the ferocity of a furious shark, thrashing about wildly on deck…

“ARGHHH! GET THIS THING OFF ME!” he cried out, muffled. He dropped his blade, but he still had the landwalker girl, who had fallen to the floor in the tussle, in his grasp, his horrid, disgusting grasp…

…and in one final act of hateful cruelty, he shoved her overboard.

With a loud scream she plummeted into the ocean and hit the surf with a splash. I snapped out of my bloodthirsty rage and looked out at where she had fallen.

“Heh heh heh…” laughed the captain, pinned to the floor and bleeding all over his face. “If I can’t have a merman to sell…then you can’t have your slimy little slut either!” He cackled evilly, his green eye leering at me, mocking me, tempting my rage…

And in a fit of fury, as a little parting gift, I sank my clawed hand into his face and ripped his damn eye out.

Pity he only had one.

Gasping for air, I flopped after the landwalker girl, hauling myself with great effort over the railing and leaping into the safety of the ocean just as the blinded captain’s screams of terror began to rouse the rest of the crew.

—————-

She was alive, but barely.

She drifted limply down as she sank, and I caught a glimpse of her dark mop of hair just as my body hit the surface.

It felt wonderful to be in the ocean again.

But I didn’t have the luxury of time to enjoy it.

For the very same water that gave me life, that soothed my parched scales, that I breathed and lived in, was slowly choking the life out of her. Oh, the painful irony.

I pumped my tail as fast as I could, with my usual speed and grace that I was denied of on land, and in the blink of an eye I grasped her around her waist and began to pull her up.

She broke the surface gasping and choking, desperate for the air as desperate I was for the water, clinging onto me as tightly as she could as I held her above the surface, allowing her to catch a few breaths. She clung onto me tightly, sputtering, as we swam away from the wretched boat that had been our prison, and soon the ship, and the captain’s screams of pain and rage, faded away into the distance.

Once we had cleared enough distance, after several hours or so, we stopped at the shallows, next to a small island that jutted out from beyond the reef. It was small and deserted, but it was a place for her to be safe until she was rescued.

She clung tightly onto my back, visibly exhausted but elated to be alive, and free.

As we bobbed just above the surface, in the sunlit clear green waters, she spoke.

“Thank you for saving me. Again." she whispered into my ear.

With a smile, I looked toward her and pointed downwards. She seemed to get the message, taking a deep breath and dipping her head below the water.

And now that I was under water, now that I could breathe once more, I was finally able to release my feelings that had been trapped in me for so long.

I was finally able to speak again.

For the first time to her.

“Thank you,” I told her.