#god is enough for us; and how excellent a guardian is he.

[bloodycoolfrye]

This is the biggest drone attack in history😉🇮🇷

[fictionpolo]

Secrets Kept in Fire

Summary: Marcus Acacius has never been a religious man.

But also Marcus Acacius has never been so conflicted and dulled in his entire life.

So when he makes new acquaintance he realizes that war and power are not enough to fulfill his all desires.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x OC!Vestal Virgin

Series warnings: Minors DNI, age gap, slow burn, religious themes, profanum, appearance descriptions, historical inaccuracies, violence, alcohol consumption, eventually smut and mature themes

Chapter warnings: None, we’re just getting started.

WC: 4,749

Notes: I am so, so sorry for all of you historical freaks. I did my research and I am aware of how many things are inaccurate in this story. But, as my fiancé said: it is fanFICTION. So, let's have some fun.

Also, English is not my first language.

Also, this is the very first thing I have written in my entire life. If at least one person enjoys it, then my work is done.

It is a part of the series I am planning, so please treat it as a chp. 1/???

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When his time comes and he is dead, this kind of nonsense will be unnecessary. Surely, a general’s funeral is not going to be a quiet party, but he has nothing against his farewell becoming a public event. It’s this spiritual grotesque he doesn’t understand. On the battlefield, when young men are dying, they call many names and pray to various gods. It doesn’t matter who they’re addressing and how fervently they beg; they all die the same way.

Marcus Acacius was a practical man and preferred to focus on his earthly life, planning it with details. The matters of his soul were not important. Besides, he was convinced his place in the afterlife was already booked. He praised Mars in the way it was intended – by being an excellent warrior and strategist. It meant more than repeating the same prayers over and over in the safety of your own house. But now he needed to put his opinions aside and honor his mother the way she wanted.

Since Marcus and his sister were children, their mother constantly reminded them how important it is to worship Vesta and everything that happens around her cult. For Acacia, her mother’s lectures about the sacred fire and the importance of the family made more sense as she was a woman. At some point in her life, she was destined to become a guardian of her household as a mother and wife. To Marcus, all those stories made no sense. How was a fire at the temple supposed to stop the Empire’s enemies? How was a bunch of women going to have any influence on Rome’s wealth?

His father’s arguments seemed more useful, so he turned his face to war and power, attributes of Mars. If he was going to worship any of the gods, it was the god of war who was worth his attention. Unlike his father, he decided to respect the beliefs of other people, so there he was – sitting in his family villa, waiting for some priestess to pray for his mother’s soul. He had better things to do, obviously – the upcoming invasion of Numidia was already planned in detail, but he still had to focus on every possible variant of this battle. It was everything that occupied his mind lately.

Damn, it was everything that occupied his mind for the last two decades. The only thing that ever changed were names – names of the regions he was designated to conquer, names of the fallen soldiers quickly replaced with fresh meat, names of the people taken captive. He would never admit this out loud, but at the age of 45, he began to notice the dullness of this pattern.

“Domine Marcus Acacius, she’s here. The priestess has arrived,” said the servant, interrupting his reflections.

The general nodded and stood up to follow the servant into the main room of the villa. He entered the central chamber and smiled – his sister stood there in the middle, looking for non-existent dirt or any other detail that in her mind could ruin the small ceremony. She spent two days decorating the area with flowers, preparing the house altar, and supervising every servant who was responsible for the cleanliness of the house.

“You know that she comes here to take care of the purity of our souls, not the floors?” he teased Acacia, but she had no time to answer as she was now on a mission to lecture her children.

“Now, listen carefully,” she said to his nephew and niece, but he was sure he was also obligated to listen. “Soon we are going to have a very important guest, and I want you to behave like I told you many times before – stay quiet, don’t interrupt the priestess, and don’t stare. It is very important for you to be respectful.”

They nodded in unison, both children and Marcus, who was finally gifted with his sister’s attention.

“Now let me look at you,” she said, fixing one of his best robes. “I thought you didn’t care about this whole ritual stuff, and there you are, looking as handsome as at one of your victory parades.”

He offered her a smile and blushed a little at the compliment.

“I know how important it is to you, sister, and how important it would be to her,” he referred to their mother, “so, whatever pleases you is my order. Also, I was hoping that it is not going to be the case, but it seems like I have to be the one to represent the house…”

Marcus stopped the sentence seeing Acacia’s worried face. She didn’t get a chance to answer as the house vilicus opened the door and announced their guest.

“Domine, nobilis Virgo Vestalis advenit!” declared the servant.

Marcus had no time to take a look at the priestess as he lowered his head deeply and put his right hand on his heart to offer her his biggest respect.

“Salve, Dux Marcus Acacius.”

Hearing his name was a sign for him to finally look up at the Vestal. He was surprised to see a young woman instead of a serious matrona. The girl was around her mid-twenties. Her short height and soft face did not add any dignity he was expecting to see in a woman of her position. Big, bright green eyes and a few single strands of hair falling from her veil only brought more innocence to her kind face. He almost forgot to greet her properly, unpleased for the reason he didn’t want to name.

“Salve, Virgo Vestalis. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to this house. Please, if you allow, let me introduce you to the residents of the villa.” He welcomed her with a plastered smile and gestured toward Acacia and her children, taking a step to the left so the priestess could go first.

First, they approached his sister.

“This is the Domina of the house, my sister Acacia Cornelii.” Acacia nodded her head and left her right hand to her chest in the same gesture her brother did a minute before.

“Salve, venerabilis Virgo Vestalis. It is an honor for us to have you in our home. We are so thankful for your service,” said Acacia with excitement Marcus didn’t share.

“Salve, Domina. I guess you are the one whom I should thank for the invitation?” asked the Vestal.

“Yes, Domina. I am the one who takes care of the hearth and home. I was also the one to take care of my mother as she lived here with us. We will forever keep the memory of her in our hearts, but we need our home to be pure from death. That’s why I… we thought that you could help us, Domina.”

The young girl nodded with understanding.

“Of course, Domina Acacia. It is my honor and duty to serve noble citizens of Rome when they need it. Let it be known to Vesta how perfectly you fulfill your duty as a guardian of the hearth.”

She raised her hand in the middle of the sentence in a gesture of a blessing and Acacia’s eyes brightened. He interrupted a (apparently) sacred moment by clearing his throat and directed the priestess’s attention toward the children.

“And these two distinguished residents are Rufus Cornelius and Cornelia.” The children nodded their heads, mimicking adults. The Vestal smiled kindly and answered with the same gesture. His niece took a step forward to the priestess, offering her a small bouquet of flowers.

“These are for you, Domina Priestess,” she said shyly, bringing a smile to the woman’s face.

“Thank you so much, Domina Cornelia. How old are you, sweetheart?”

The little girl’s face lightened up and she looked at both her mother and uncle, seeking their appreciation. Marcus couldn’t contain his smirk seeing his niece radiating with joy.

“I’m seven.”

“Seven is a very serious age, Cornelia. You know, when I was seven I began my path towards Vesta,” she explained to the girl. “I think you would have been an excellent priestess as well, my dearest girl!”

Even though Marcus knew she wasn’t serious about it and was just trying to invest Cornelia a little bit more into the situation, he chuckled. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t just inside his head but for everyone to hear. And everyone indeed looked at him with confusion. Everyone except for the Vestal, who kept looking at his niece, even though the little girl’s attention was now focused on her uncle.

“But of course it would be a grand challenge for your father to accept the loss of his daughter. After all, no man accepts losing their power easily, and the priestesses of Vesta answer only to her.”

After she finished the sentence, she finally looked at him with the same kind and warm expression she had the whole time. The general furrowed his brows in confusion, not quite understanding what it meant. He didn’t know any woman in the whole Empire without a male guardian.

“Speaking of the father,” the priestess continued, “is he going to join us? Or is it the General who is the Dominus of this household?” She addressed Acacia, who hesitated for a second with the answer.

“Forgive me, Virgo Vestala, but my husband is… absent at the moment…” She looked at Marcus, clearly looking for his support. The man sighed impatiently and continued.

“My brother-in-law is busy at the moment. I am not a resident of this household, but our mother lived and died here, so that’s why we all gathered in this villa. I don’t find his presence necessary at the moment.”

The young woman lifted one of her eyebrows in surprise.

“I see.” She then addressed the last person remaining in the room, the young Rufus Cornelius. Marcus was listening to the polite conversation the young priestess had with his family, but deeply in his mind, he kept wondering what she meant by saying that Vestals answer only to their goddess. What about the men in their families? They had families, right? Not husbands, of course, but fathers and brothers… Were Vestal Virgins that important? And was Marcus so ignorant to not know anything about such a powerful group?

“General Acacius?” he was awakened from his thoughts by the priestess and realized that he had been rudely staring at her the whole time.

“Sorry, Domina. Can you repeat?” he got a feeling that she asked him a question and was expecting an answer.

The Vestal sighed and got a serious look on her face. Marcus thought that this suited her less than the warm smile she had before.

“We are about to start the ritual. I appreciate your… kind reception as the male guardian, but if you are not interested in praying with us, you are more than welcome to leave us alone.”

That woke him up completely. It wasn’t a direct order but a polite sentence with a very direct meaning – listen and obey or get out. He was taken aback but not offended. He knew he now had a chance to get out and avoid this spiritual madness, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay, observe, and learn.

“No, I… of course, I will stay. I’m sorry, Domina.” The priestess’s face brightened again and she rewarded him with a satisfied smile. The general relaxed a little and took his place in front of the home altar to participate in the ritual. He would be lying if he said that he enjoyed this event on a religious level, but he truly appreciated it as a spectacle. It was not as entertaining as Gladiator’s fights or a theatre drama, but it was something he had never witnessed before. The whole ceremony was very intimate as there were only five people taking part in it, but the atmosphere was so solemn his spirits were lifted higher than ever. He attended many parades, processions, and celebrations, but none of them compared to this. He wondered if this was a standard experience or if it was the priestess who made him feel invested in this.

When she put a sacred veil on her face and began the whole ceremony, Marcus quickly regretted his vain behavior. She might seem innocent and helpless as a woman, but as a leader of a ritual, she was impressive. Her dedication to the prayers made Marcus speechless, his inner monologue stopped. She was devoted and serious but also caring and kind when she was addressing all of them. Her mind was clearly focused on nothing else but this household, this family, and their wealth. And when she started to pray for their late mother? The plea was so sophisticated that Marcus had a feeling that it was an Empress who died in this villa, not his mother.

He was truly surprised how fast the ceremony was passing. He was awaiting every step, wondering what was going to happen next. And nothing spectacular happened, yet he was more and more impressed with each passing minute. What amazed him most were the personal blessings and prayers for every resident of the household. The Vestal asked for wealth for all of them, for patience and strength for the Domina, the guardian of the hearth, for the gift of obedience and discipline for the children, and she was even kind enough to ask for “peace of mind” for the absent Dominus. He was sure she was finished, as she had already mentioned everyone who lived in this house, but to his surprise, the young woman added one more person to her prayers.

“And here for General Marcus Acacius – may his sword protect the Empire, may his shield protect him. May his faith in me and you, Great Vesta, keep growing!”

He couldn’t see her face hidden in the veil, but she somehow sensed humor in the last sentence. He lowered his head so low that his chin was touching his broad chest. When the ceremony was finished, Acacia was almost in tears. Marcus had no idea she was so invested in the same cult as their mother, however now he had more understanding of her devotion. It wasn’t like he was about to fall down on his knees in front of the young priestess and beg her for redemption, but he had more comprehension for this process.

“Virgo Vestalis, we are forever gracious to you and mighty Vesta for all the blessings. My soul is now fully at peace with my mother’s passing!” said Acacia with her voice full of emotion. “Will you be so kind as to find some time for our servants? They begged me to ask you for a general blessing for them…”

“Of course, Domina. I will find time for each and every one of them.” The Vestal answered politely. And so, she was not kidding about finding time for everyone. Marcus observed with respect as she patiently listened to every servant and slave that demanded her attention. She blessed them all, both with prayer and holy water brought straight from the Temple of Vesta. She accepted their pitiful gifts and offerings and remained on the same level of kindness she had with Acacia and her children. Now when he was thinking about this, the only person she wasn’t polite with was him. No, that was incorrect. She offered him her kindness, but he declined it. Why? Because I am an old bored man who finds shallow and vain entertainment in showing a young priestess how much he doesn’t care about anything other than war and power… He answered his own question and sighed quietly.

Once again his thoughts were interrupted by the Vestal’s soft voice.

“General Acacius? Your sister just offered me some refreshments in her garden and we were wondering if you would care to join us?”

Her face was already uncovered and this time there was no sign of annoyance on it, which he was thankful for. Acacia seemed to be more upset with his yet another mental absence.

“Brother, if you have business of your own to attend to, then it is understandable. You’re off your duty, soldier.” She joked nervously, obviously afraid of the possibility of another snarky comment.

“Actually, I would love to join you, nobiles dominae,” said Marcus politely, addressing both of the ladies but looking directly at the Vestal.

“Right…” said Acacia under her breath and began to lead them into the garden. Marcus matched the priestess’s pace and straightened up a little bit. Usually, he was an excellent demagogue – it was his daily basis to deal with various men, from Emperors to slaves, throughout every social status. It was the first time for him to entertain the priestess with his conversation skills and his mind went blank. What topics was he allowed to mention? How was he supposed to know what kind of respect he was obligated to show her? How could he impress someone so different from him and his world outlook?

“Virgo Vestalis, I…” he wanted to begin but she interrupted him with a question.

“Is this your family house, General? I mean, is this the place where you grew up?” she asked loosely.

“Uhm, no, it is not, Domina. This house was gifted to my sister and her husband by his family. The Acacius’s villa belongs to me and… well, let’s call it a waste of grand space as I have no wife or children,” he added with an awkward smile.

“I see. Now I understand why you have no interest in the cult of the goddess of family.” Marcus’s smile widened as he found this statement obnoxiously true.

“Forgive me for my straightforwardness but may I ask why a man of your position remains unmarried?”

He had no opportunity to answer as his sister was the first one to do that.

“My brother’s wife is war, and all of the soldiers that follow him are his children,” she laughed. “He has no time in his life for such a trivial thought as family.”

Marcus’s lips twisted at this comment, but Acacia was not wrong. He was relieved that they had reached the shaded spot of the green peristyle where servants prepared cold water and wine for them to enjoy. He took a place next to his sister; the priestess sat at the other side of the table, right in front of him.

Acacia continued her thought, “But, he is lucky enough to have me and my family. Marcus is the greatest uncle a child could have, believe me, Domina. He is also not so bad at being a big brother.”

The Vestal’s green eyes focused on him as if she was expecting him to elaborate on the statement. But the general found Acacia’s comment a good opportunity to ask the question that had been bothering him for a few hours already.

“Speaking of the children,” he began, “you had an interesting small talk with Cornelia earlier today, nobilis Vestalis.”

Her face softened when he mentioned his little niece. She was now addressing both of them.

“Well, of course, I was just trying to get her attention. The procedure of choosing a young new Vestal is much more complicated. Otherwise, I would love to recruit every pure-hearted little girl into our sisterhood.”

Acacia chuckled at her comment, but the priestess’s attention was focused back on Marcus.

“So you and your brother-in-law don’t need to worry, nobilis Dux. She has every chance to remain in your power until it’s going to be passed to her husband.”

He knew that this comment was an echo of the small laugh he couldn’t contain earlier. But this was exactly how he wanted this conversation to go, so he could fulfill his curiosity.

“Forgive me, Domina, but as a Vestal, you truly don’t need to answer to anyone?”

She took a sip of wine, her face pleased with the question she was apparently ready to answer.

“Of course, I do. But unlike most women, it is not my father, nor my brother, and of course, because of the vows I made, nor my husband. I have other beings to answer to. The most important one is my goddess and guide, the mighty Vesta. A person to whom I answer directly is Vestalis Maxima. And between the two of them, there is, of course, Pontifex Maximus.”

She smirked and leaned in closer to the table, so did Marcus.

“And the highest priest, Pontifex Maximus, is also an Imperator, the main commander and the Emperor himself. Which means, nobilis Dux, that you and I answer to the same person. That makes us equal.”

Marcus opened and closed his mouth, doing his best not to turn this into a discussion. He held the priestess’s gaze and repeated slowly.

“Equal.”

“Yes, equal. You and I both take an important part in the Empire’s growth and safety. You guard our lands with a sword, and I guard the sacred fire of Vesta for the same reason – to protect our people.”

The general lowered his head to hide his smile but failed. He looked briefly at Acacia, who remained silent and was clearly tense because of the discussion. He returned his gaze to the young priestess.

“And where can I notice this sacred fire on a battlefield, Domina? Where are all those blessings and prayers?”

She smiled softly, not intimidated by him for a second.

“In the hearts of soldiers that are willing to die for you and your orders, General Acacius.”

His turn in the conversation was taken away because of the sudden commotion happening at the entrance to the garden. He turned his head and narrowed his eyes when he saw his brother-in-law making his way toward them. Or rather doing his best to make his way, as he was insanely drunk. Marcus stood up, but his sister was quicker – in a few steps, she reached her husband and whispered something to him, clearly trying to convince him to go back to the house. Unfortunately, he knew his brother-in-law way too long to know it was not going to work.

“I am sorry for anything that is about to happen.” He sighed and looked at her confused face. Cassius Cornelius finally arrived at the table, stopped, and attempted to bow down in front of the Vestal but almost fell. She answered with a small nod and looked briefly at both of the Acacius siblings.

“Domina… can’t really describe how glad I am to see you in my house. Forgive my… absence, but I am a man of interest. My wife keeps the fire on in our household, but well… I am the one to feed it up, you know what I mean?”

Cassius seemed to not care about her answer as he quickly turned to his wife and her brother and focused on them.

“Besides, let’s be honest. An old toad never liked me, so her poor soul wouldn’t enjoy my presence here anyway,” he said, reaching for a random goblet and gulping some wine. He turned his attention back to the Vestal. He grinned at her and Marcus winced. Cassius was a handsome man, but right now he looked just dumb with a drunken expression on his face.

“I hope my brother represented me well in my own house,” Cassius continued, referring to Marcus. They were friends long before he married Acacia and treated the general like his blood.

“I hope he didn’t bore you with some military bullshit. Poor man doesn’t know his way with ladies,” he laughed and staggered, spilling his wine all over. Way too close to the extremely white Vestal’s robes. She took a step back just in time, and for the first time, Marcus noticed the irritation on her face.

“He had no time to do it, Cassius Cornelius. And, to my displeasure, he will have no chance to do it. It is about time for me to come back to the temple. I already overused your hospitality.”

Acacia looked at her nervously but relaxed under the soft gaze the priestess offered her.

“You absolutely did not, nobilis Virgo Vestalis!” said Marcus’s sister in a fake cheerful tone, “of course, we are not going to stop you from your other duties. I will call for a servant immediately so he can accompany you.”

“That won’t be necessary, sister,” Marcus added quickly. “I will gladly accompany your guest.”

Acacia looked at him with confusion but quickly turned her attention back to her husband, who was about to finish another random goblet of wine.

“Thank you, brother. And thank you once again, nobilis Domina. It was an honor to have you in our house.” said Acacia lowering her head.

“Thank you, Domina Acacia. It was my deepest pleasure to visit your home and your family. Valete in pace Vestae.”

After the polite goodbye, she turned on her heel and began her walk through the garden. Marcus looked at his sister and his drunk brother-in-law, mouthed “I’ll be right back” to Acacia, and matched his pace with the priestess. When he reached her, he offered her his arm, hoping his good manners would soften her after what she had just witnessed. To his surprise, the priestess stopped and tasked him. She had to tilt her head to look at him due to the height difference.

“I… I can’t.” she said sheepishly.

Marcus furrowed his brows.

“Physical touch is not allowed for us. Except of course for extreme situations…”

Marcus lowered his arm and nodded.

“All right… uhm… I didn’t mean it to be…” he mumbled awkwardly.

“Oh, I know, Dux Acacius. I appreciate your chivalry.” said the priestess cheerfully.

The corner of his mouth lifted up after hearing this.

“I am deeply sorry for Cassius’s behavior. He’s like an Arabian horse – excellently bred but harsh to tame,” said Marcus.

The Vestal giggled at the statement but then did her best to bring back her serious face.

“He should be more respectful to his wife’s patron. How he behaves towards me mirrors his behavior towards Vesta.”

“So I guess I wasn’t on my best behavior with mighty Vesta either,” stated Marcus. “Let me apologize to you, Domina. I have a bad habit of underestimating things I know nothing about. But I must admit, I would gladly listen more about Vesta and her priestesses.”

The woman smirked.

“And I would gladly answer all of your questions, Marcus Acacius, but I got a feeling it is not curiosity that fuels you.”

“Is that so? What is it then?”

“I think,” the priestess began, “you like to know your opponent. And you consider me one, as you know nothing about the power I hold.”

Marcus remained silent as they reached the main gate of the villa. They both stopped in front of each other. The young priestess tilted her head again to look at him with her big, smart eyes.

“I am not an opponent, nor an enemy, General Acacius. We are both privileged with great power but we complement each other, as we find fulfillment on different fields.”

He listened to her with a stoic face, low-key agreeing with her words.

“We both share the same goal, which is the prosperity of the Empire. I hope you understand that.”

Marcus nodded in agreement.

“I do understand. And I truly wish we had more time to discuss these interesting matters.”

The priestess grinned at him, obviously satisfied with his answer.

“Come back safely from your upcoming raid and there are huge chances that the gods will allow us to continue our conversation.”

The general answered her with the same polite grin she had. The Vestal raised her hand in the same gesture she did earlier today to bless him.

“Valete et di vos servent. Especially Mars. But I will pray to Vesta as well for your safe return.”

He lowered his head and once again raised his hand to his chest, this time with honest intentions to honor her. When she turned to the gate, he decided to ask her one final question.

“Domina, forgive me for asking, but can you share your name with me? In case I need any spiritual services?”

She smiled once more and looked at him for the last time.

“In case you need to redeem your soul, ask for Silvana.”

Then she was gone behind the closed gate, leaving Marcus alone with his thoughts. And to his surprise, he realized that for the first time in weeks, his thoughts weren’t focused on upcoming battles.

[friendly-books]

Turn Coat live blog

Turn Coat live blog

“I answered it and Morgan, half his face covered in blood, gasped, “The Wardens are coming. Hide me. Please.”

His eyes rolled back into his skull and he collapsed.

Oh

Super.” pg. 15 Ha and what a way to start the book. 

“Truth be told, I still had nightmares occasionally, about being pursued by an implacable killer in a gray cloak,” pg. 18 Yep Morgan is the worst.

“Last place anyone would look for him be my guess.” pg. 18 Yep

“Oh bite me, wizard boy,” pg. 19 Ha

“I am. I’m helping him because I know what it feels like to have the Wardens on your ass for something you haven’t done.” pg. 22 Yep 

“So. How are the headaches?” pg. 22 Bonnie! Would Bonnie’s conception count as an immaculate conception?

“Thank you-“

“Oh shut up” I said, shuddering. “Neither of us wants that conversation.” pg. 28 Ha

“Aleron LaFortier is dead.” pg. 29 I’m not too sad that he’s dead. 

“Gosh. That was irrational of them, to jump to that conclusion.” pg. 30 Ha

“I went to bed two nights ago. I woke up at LaFortier’s private study in Edinburgh, with a lump on the back of my head and a bloody dagger in my hand. pg. 31 Suspicious 

“Stars and stones. What on God’s green earth  was that thing?” pg. 45 What did Harry see? Harry think of your poor brain and psyche. He’s got to stop poking things with his Sight. It’s bad for him. You’ve got brain damage now you’ve got to be careful. 

Oh good Harry got to Georgia and Billy’s house 

What is Harry muttering about the numbers?

Well now Harry’s using horrible memories to get use to the Sight of the Skinwalker. 

“Kirby was the only clearly lit object in sight-an ideal target.” pg. 56 Oh no

Oh no Kirby :( 

How long does someone need to be dead for it to be considered necromancy and not resurrection? 

“You nuked it” pg. 77 So cool

Zero is strange 

“That’s why this place is called Zero, I realized. Zero limits. Zero inhibitions. Zero restraints. It was a place of perfect, focused abandon, of indulgence, and it was intriguing and hideous, nauseating and viscerally hungry.” pg. 88 Not a fan of Zero

They seriously got a wanted poster for Morgan. Old school wild west style. Ha

Madeline? Like back in White Night with the thrall? 

“You are Jessica Rabbit, right?” I asked. “All slinky and overblown and obvious?” pg. 102 Ha

Good for Thomas and Justine for attacking Madeline

“You aren’t doing her any favors by going easy on her, Dresden,” he said, more quietly “You aren’t preparing her for exams. She doesn’t receive a bad mark if she fails.” pg. 129 What happens if Molly fails the exam?

“She threw stones at me” pg. 129 Luccio why would you do that? Why not snowballs or water balloons? Does Luccio and Morgan have a  paternal substitute similar to Harry and Ebenezar? Maybe that’s why Morgan lost it back in Dead Beat?

“Pain is an excellent motivator,” he said “And teaches one to control one’s emotions at the same time.” pg. 129 No that’s stupid. 

Morgan stop calling Thomas a “it” 

“You did a bad thing once” I said “It doesn’t make you a monster”

“What if it does?” pg. 134 No Molly isn’t a monster. Now Molly feels like a monster. I’m reminded of when Harry had similar thoughts back in Proven Guilty. Morgan sucks 

“The Council is not divided” pg. 139 Oh Morgan you sweet summer child. Open your eyes and stop being such a Council supporter.

“You two play nice.” pg. 142 Ha

Alright let’s see if I can sus out this traitor. So it’s got to be one of the senior council members or staff. Merlin, McCoy, Listen-to-Winds, Librety, Mai, Gatekeeper, and Peabody. I don’t think it’s McCoy as he’s trying to get rid of the black council. I don’t think it’s Listen-to-Winds as he’s got a friendly raccoon buddy. I don’t think it’s Merlin as why would he be the traitor he’s in charge? I don’t think it’s Gatekeeper as he seems to be on Harry’s side. I don’t think it’s Mai as she’s got those guardian temple dogs. I don’t know enough about Liberty and Peabody. But Liberty seems to be on Harry’s side. So by some less than logical reasoning I thinks it’s Peabody as he’s the White Council scribe so he probably knows things. And he talked to Merlin at Molly’s trial. 

“The only wizard I see less frequently than he is you.” pg. 153 Interesting I wonder why?

 “When I’d been young man, hauled before the Council to be tried as a violator of the First Law of Magic, they brought me to Edinburgh. The musty, wet, mineral smell of the place had been almost all I knew while I waited, hooded and bound, in a cell for a full day. I remember being horribly cold and tortured by the knots my muscles worked themselves into after so many hours tried hand and foot. I remember feeling more alone than ever in my life, while I awaited whatever was going to happen. 

I had been scared. So scared. I was sixteen. It was the same smell, and that scent had the power to animate the corpses of some of my darkest memories and bring them lurching back into the front of my thoughts.

Psychological necromancy.” pg. 158 Therapy please. This is trauma. 

“You have too much history with Morgan. This has got to be dispassionate, and you’re just about the lest dispassionate person I know.” pg. 161 Ha

“As the mind grows older, it gets established.” pg. 161 

Interesting that with time a person can’t be mind controlled. That does bring into question Luccio and her schrodinger cat position. As while her soul and personhood is centuries old the body she’s in isn’t. So would she be able to be mind controlled?

“Peabody gulped” pg. 164 Suspicious 

“What he doses isn’t dramatic, but his organizational skills have been a critical asset since the outbreak of the war.” pg. 164 That would make him a good spy.

How did Ebenezar know that Harry was holding Morgan?

Did LaFortier not use a death curse? Why didn’t he use it? 

So LaFortier was the point between the White Council and the other countries that weren’t in the Council. 

In every scene Peabody in so far he’s having people sign paper. Could it be part of his plan? Hmm 

“Peabody stopped before the Merlin, blinking.” pg. 182 Suspicious 

“You are an untidy person.”

“I put my hand over my heart, grinning at him “Ow” pg. 184 Ha

Why does Peabody keep wanting to get people to sign paper? Is that part of his plan? An inkwell, seriously? Is it the inkwell? Is it an evil magic inkwell? I bet it is. Who uses inkwells nowadays. Just use a pen. There is such a thing as taking an aesthetic too far. 

“Either LaFortier chose not to use it, or he was incapable of using it.” pg. 191 Interesting

So either LaFortier didn’t use his death curse or he couldn’t use it. If he couldn’t use it there aren’t many ways to counter a death curse. A sniper rifle could do it like what Kincaid said. But the wounds were defensive and no gunshot wounds. There aren’t many melee weapons that could stop magic. Wait hold up isn’t the Warden swords anti magic. So they can fight warlocks. So anyone with a sword could have killed LaFortier. The people who we’ve seen have swords are Morgan, Carlos, and Luccio. I don’t think it would be someone we don’t know. It isn’t Morgan as he claims he didn’t do it. And came to Harry for help. I don’t think it’s Carlos as he hasn’t really been mentioned. So that just leaves Luccio. With the mention of mind control magic and Peabody I think he mind controlled Luccio and got her to kill LaFortier. That brings us to Morgan and his suspicions of two day unconsciousness. I don’t think he was unconscious. I think he saw Luccio either kill LaFortier or stand over his body and take the blame. 

Oh no Thomas is in trouble 

Binder what kind of name is that?

“Binder gave me a gimlet stare. Then he rolled his eyes and shot a brief glance over his shoulder-then did a double take as his mouth dropped open.” pg. 212 Ha

“Ernest Armand Tinswhistle” pg. 213 Never mind his real name is so much worse.

“The sliver oak leaf.” pg. 222 Oh no

“Titania’s retainer told me. The entire Summer court has been laughing about it for months.” pg. 222 Ha

“I took it and pitched it into the haunted woods.” pg. 223 Ha

Toot-toot! 

“‘Accomplice is an ugly word. So is ‘penitentiary’” pg. 233 Ha

“He is kind of a drama queen.” pg. 237 Ha

“Who said anything about magic?” pg. 237 What else is Molly going to do?

“I think your mother would scream bloody murder” pg. 237 I’m screaming bloody murder.

“Morgan made a low, appreciative sound as the door closed.” pg. 237 MORGAN NO 

“Maybe. But that was just…just wrong.” pg. 237 Yep I agree completely. Wrong 

“Received, one six foot traditional Ozark walking club from Mr. Smart-ass.

That’s Doctor Smart-ass to you. I didn’t spend eight years in insult collage to be called Mister.” pg. 241 Ha

“I’m sorry sir,” she said “but the addition-counseling center is on twenty-six.” pg. 242 Ha

“I debated several answers and decided to start things off by annoying her.

I know. Me. Shocking, right?” pg. 245 Ha

“Her eyes were wide, her expression a mixture of terror and awe as she stared up me.” pg. 252 Evelyn what did you see in the soul gaze. Why terror and awe? 

Oh lovely another Mexican stand off now with Luccio. 

“There are monsters from whom I’d expect better behavior, once they had accepted my hospitality. What’s more, they’d give it to me.” pg. 257 Ha

“Bitch, I know you didn’t just say that.” pg. 258 Whoa there Molly let’s calm down.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” I said. “So think real careful about where this is coming from. Have you people ever considered talking when you’ve got a problem?” pg. 259 Ha

“Sorry,” I told him at once. “Four-footed nonvocalizing company expected.” pg. 260 Ha

“You,” I asked “and Morgan?” pg. 262 What? I didn’t clock that at all. I’m just as bad as Harry. I didn’t see Luccio/Harry, Lara/Harry, and now Morgan/Luccio. So Morgan loves Luccio romantically. He must be so upset that Luccio and Harry are dating. 

“Who do I look like Kissinger?” pg. 266 I hope not. Kissinger is a terrible person. He commented war crimes.

“Is there any reason this can’t be civil visit?” pg. 270 Yes you brought Harry with you.

“Well. I couldn’t argue with that, but the words made Anastasia’s eyes narrow dangerously.” 277 I’m with Harry and Lara on their views on the White Council. 

“It was Thomas’s necklace.” pg. 296 Oh no Thomas 

“Because people in helpless situations come to you for help on a regular basis. And you help them. It’s what you do.” pg. 300 Yep that’s Harry in a nutshell.

“I always enjoy dealing with a man possessing  a well-developed sense if self-worth.” pg. 302 Harry doesn’t have that. 

“At what point did you forget that I am a vampire Dresden? A monster. A habitually neat, polite, civil, and effective monster. Her eyes drifted down the hallway, to where a well-muscled young man was being helped sit down, while a medic secured bandages over his eyes. Lara stared intently at him, the color of her eyes lightening to silver, her lips parted slightly. “So am I” pg. 307 Lara is scary

“He always worried that he’d never be able to talk to you. That the world he came from was so different. That he wouldn’t know enough about being human to relate. That he wouldn’t know about being a br-“ pg. 310 Aw Thomas 

“You’re like family to me, Harry. You always care.” pg. 310 Aw :)

“She focused sharply on Anastasia for a moment-and then upon me. 

Lara’s eyes flicked several shades paler as her ripe lips parted in dawning realization. A very slow smile crept over her mouth as she stared at me.” pg. 313 So Harry doesn’t have true love’s protection anymore. So that means Luccio doesn’t love him :( 

“Margret. You selfish bitch.” pg. 315 Whoa Luccio not a fan of Margaret I see.

I kinda agree with Margret about the council.

I don’t agree with Luccio. That’s a whole separate comment about her argument. 

“As harsh an experience as it created for you, Harry, the Laws of Magic are not about justice. The White Council is not about justice. They are about restraining power.” pg.  319 That’s my main issue with the White Council. I think they should be more about justice than they are. 

“Over. My. Dead. Body.” pg. 321 Yep Harry cares about his family. I wonder how Luccio figured it out but not Elaine. While Luccio had help from Justine it’s surprising that Luccio was able to piece it together but not Harry’s other friends. 

“Because you need your brother to be alright” pg. 325 Yep see previous comment. 

“Then if you want my help, things are going to change. I’m not charging blindfold again. Not ever.” pg. 337 Yep stop keeping your friends in the dark. 

“Then I made a fist and slugged his smug face hard enough to knock him over backward in the chair.” pg. 351 Ha

“The mighty Harry Dresden. Subcontracting detective work.” pg. 363 Ha

“Bear in mind that someone like him can do everything I can do and considerable besides. And even people on the bloody Council are nervous about that one.” pg. 367 Yep Harry can be scary.

“You lost a fight to one overgrown Boy Scout and one pint-sized mortal women, got yourself locked up by the police, of all the ridiculous things, and missed your chance to earn the reward.” pg. 369 Ha Harry is an overgrown Boy Scout. Why is it that these morally dubious people know that but the Council thinks he’s a black sheep/warlock? 

“The air smelled of cordite. Mouse’s fur, all down his left foreleg, was matted and caked with blood.” pg. 380 Oh no Mouse :( 

Oh no Molly broke a Law again. The same on too. 

“I promise that I’ll be beside you,” I said. “I can’t promise anything else. Only that I’ll stand beside you for as long as I can.” 

“Okay,” she whispered. She leaned against me.” pg. 393 Aw 

So subtle mind control. Maybe that’s what Peabody is doing with the inkwell. I don’t trust anyone who uses an inkwell. Just use a pen. 

“I think someone has tampered with Captain Luccio. I’d bet my life on it.” pg. 394 I knew it 

“You were acting?” I said “To make it hit Molly harder?” pg. 394 Good for Mouse.

“A real party. Practically everyone who’d wanted to kill me lately would be there.” pg. 399 Harry given your track record with parties I don’t see this going well.

“That is the plan” I confirmed. Then I bent down and kissed her forehead and her mouth, gently, and leaned my forehead against hers. “Love you too,” I whispered.” pg. 492 Yay Harry/Murph moment! 

“And yet here I am about to pop you in the nose,” I muttered. “Am I daring or what?” pg. 410 Ha and if it works on sharks it should work on Demonreach. 

“It rocked back at the impact. Not much. Maybe half an inch, though that column of fire  would have blown apart a brick wall. But I had moved it that half inch. There was no doubt about that.” pg. 418 So cool

“I am Harry Dresden, and I give thee a name, honored spirit. From this day on, be thou called Demonreach.” pg. 418 So cool

Demonreach is so cool. Harry names another. I wonder how this will play out. 

“I slid will into my voice as I said, simply, “Thank you.” pg. 419 Aw :) Harry being nice to Deamonreach. 

“I’ve got nothing going on in here at the moment.”

I realized what I had said just as the last word left my mouth, and glanced at Morgan. He lay on the bunk with his eyes closed. His mouth was turned up in small smile. “Too easy.” 

Molly fought not to grin.” pg. 426 Ha

So cool that Harry challenged the entire Senior Council. 

I like Toot-toot 

Gatekeeper! 

“I cannot decide,” he said “whether you are the most magnificent liar I’ve ever encountered in my life-or if you truly are as ignorant as you appear.”

I looked at him for a minute. Then I hooked my thumb up at my ridiculous head bandage.

“Dude” pg. 452 Ha

“There is the world that should be,” he growled, “and the world that is. We live in one.” 

“And must create the other,” Ebenezar retorted “if it is ever to be” pg. 469 So cool

“And then it hit me. They were dealing with something far more dangerous than me, Harry Dresden, whose battered old Volkswagen was currently in the city impound. They were dealing with the potential demonic dark lord nightmare warlock they’d been busy fearing since I turned sixteen. They were dealing with the wizard who had faced the Heirs of Kemmler riding a zombie dinosaur, and emerged victorious from a fight that had flattened Morgan and Captain Luccio  before they had even reached it. They were dealing with the man who had dropped a challenge to the entire Senior Council, and who had then actually showed, apparently willing to fight-on the shores of an entirely too creepy island in the middle of a freshwater sea.” pg. 471 So cool! 

Not a fan of ancient Mai 

“He was not truly your apprentice. You kept watch over him for a mere two years.” pg. 473 Yes Harry was an Ebenezer apprentice and it was an important two years!

I love that we got a glimpse into Harry’s appearance time. Yeah, having killed Justin a bunch of bully teenagers isn't all that scary in comparison. 

“Lady Raith,” Ebenezer said, calmly. “Touch that boy again and only things left for your kin to bury will be your five-hundred-dollar shoes.” pg. 479 So cool! I love how much love Ebenezer has for Harry and vice versa. 

“Wile E. Coyote” I said to him soberly. “Suuuuuuper Genius.” pg. 483 Ha 

Ebenezer used a force choke. It was cool.

Ahhhhh!!!! Lara is terrifying. Madeline didn’t deserve that. Why would you do that Lara? I’m going to have nightmares. Lara is definitely a monster. I don’t want her anywhere near Maggie.

“Someone had to be human.” pg. 512 Yep 

Poor Thomas :( 

“Bring it! Bring it, you dickless freak!” pg. 530 Ha 

Toot-toot to the rescue! 

“Mother says you have no place here.” 

“Father says you are ugly” pg. 539 Ha

“Just gonna kick your ass up between your ears.” pg. 540 Ha and Listen-to-winds is so cool. 

“Retribution,” Ebenezer said. “Not justice” pg. 555 It definitely isn’t justice. It’s retribution and vengeance. 

“I remind you that Dresden and his apprentice  aided and abetted a fugitive from justice.” pg. 556 Stop calling it justice it’s not justice.

“Little guy like that, taking on something so far out of his weight class. That was a sight to see.” 

Ebenezer snorted. “Yeah. Wonder where the pixie learned that.” pg. 558 Ha and where do you think Harry learned it from. Definitely not Justin. 

I think Harry should learn from Listen-to-winds. 

Oh no Ebenezer doesn’t know about Thomas. Maybe Harry and sit him down and they actually have a conversation about Thomas. I can dream ok. 

Oh no poor Thomas what happened to you?

“Wile E. Coyote,” I said wisely. “ Suuuuuuper genius” pg. 569 Ha 

“Ebenezar was of the opinion that apprentices were always hungry. Can’t imagine where he got that idea from.” pg. 576 Ha

Ebenezer is a cool bookworm. I wonder if Harry got being a bookworm from Ebenezer.

“The Merlin has demanded that we put the boy under surveillance at once. I think he’s a damn fool.” pg. 578 Ebenezar is right. Harry would not be happy about that. White Council looks like a police state. 

“But then again, I trusted Maggie’s too” pg. 578 Maggie as in Harry’s mom? Did Ebenezer teach Harry’s mom? Do they have a parental substitute dynamic? Actual parent and child? Look I’m going to get one of these relationships right I swear. 

“Merlin,” pg. 579 As in the original Merlin?

“Mai looked daggers at Injun Joe” pg. 584 Not a fan of Ancient Mai

“Mai looked as if someone had hit her between the eyes with a sledgehammer. “That,” she said, in a breathless tone “is a Foo dog.” She stared at me “Where did you get such a thing? And why were you allowed to keep it?” pg. 588 First of all Mouse isn’t a thing or an it. He was the best boy there ever was. Second of all Harry didn’t pick Mouse, Mouse picked Harry. 

“It is my belief that Peabody has been drugging the ink for the purpose of attempting greater mental influence over the decisions of members of the Senior Council, and that it is entirely possible that he has compromised the free will of the younger members of the Council tonight.” pg. 588 I was right!? I knew that inkwell was evil. Never trust an inkwell. 

I will begrudgingly admit that Merlin is a little bit cool with the whole telepathy thing. Incredibly begrudgingly :/

Morgan, what are you doing about it? You should be resting. Keep doing this and it’ll kill you. Go line down. 

I can’t believe I was right about Luccio's mind control. And with Peabody. Maybe I can be a P. I. like Harry lol 

“I knew that you knew how it felt to be an innocent man hounded by the Wardens.” pg. 600 He admits it.

“He died less than a minute later.” pg. 600 He died! :0 Morgan’s died? What? 

Harry’s got a cool eye scar now. 

The Gray Council is cool.

“That the only alternative is to stand around and watch everything go to hell.” His voice hardened. “We’re not going to do that.” 

“Damn right we’re not.” pg. 616 Good

“You’re not even forty.” pg. 622 So Harry’s still in his thirties. He’s grown so much.

Poor Thomas 

Glad that Butters is joining Harry’s D&D group. 

Final thoughts 

Great way to start the book. No Bi Harry moments. I thought the book was funny. I wish we got more Marcone to see who he is and if he’s picked up the coin. My working theory is that he picked it up in the last book. Unsure if he touched it bare handed and just has it in his possession or if he has it and hasn’t given in like with Harry. They both have a lot of willpower. He partnered up with Namshiel after Harry died and there was no longer a wizard in Chicago. I hope he shows up in the next book. I loved Mouse in this. I loved the Harry and Murphy moment. I’m shocked I was right about Peabody. That wasn’t anywhere close to a logical conclusion in my deduction. The inkwell was a total guess on my end. Lara is terrifying. I’m sad that Morgan died and what happened to Luccio. Didn’t like the Morgan and Molly thing. Poor poor Thomas. I hope he can come back from this. Loved Toot-toot in this. Not the biggest fan of ancient Mai and glad she was shocked by Mouse. I’m glad Morgan sort of apologized to Harry at the end there. Harry’s reputation grows among the supernatural community. I loved all the Ebenezer and Harry moments in this book especially with the force choke on Lara. Interesting that Peabody had the stuff from outside reality. So this Black Council is in league with the Outsiders(Is that what they’re called?) my question is why? Presumably the Outsiders want to destroy reality so why would anyone want to side with them? Are they possessed? Also if they’re so bad how did Harry defeat one at 16? Glad Harry and Ebenezar are forming the Gray Council if Merlin isn’t going to do anything. Love that has a cool eye scar. Ebenezer really shaped how Harry views magic and life. That must have been such an important two years. Hope we get more glimpse into it. I’ll probably make a whole different comment on Luccio's argument and why I think it’s wrong. 

Onto the next book! Oh boy it’s the big one.

[tinkertoysdamn]

Stereo Hearts - We Built This City' Verse

Loki shuddered in irritation.  Things were progressing on the overall plan but the rogue Time Agents still needed help, specifically they needed raw muscle.  Mobius had made a suggestion, a good one in fact, but Loki was unhappy with it.  “I can’t believe we are considering this.”

“She was damn useful on the last mission.”  Mobius pointed out.  Thora Odinson had been not merely useful, but the powerhouse behind that particular success.  The fact that her presence had also annoyed Loki to no end was a bonus as far as Mobius was concerned.    

“Yes but she was also–”  Loki’s face screwed up in distaste.  “Pining.”  He spat out the word with great vitriol.  “Obviously.  Obnoxiously.”

It had gotten a little out of hand.  “Maybe if we pull her from another part of the timeline,” Mobius suggested.  

Loki lit up.  “Excellent idea.”  He clapped his hands together, pleased.  “Perhaps after some distance from those blasted Guardians, she’d be more tolerable.”

Considering how Loki had whined to Mobius about his own long-lost Sylvie, Mobius thought the trickster god was being a bit hypocritical.  Still—  “Here’s a good spot,” Mobius said, looking over his Tempad.  “It’s a few years later.”

Now fully on board with the idea, Loki’s eyes glittered.  “Do it.”

Once again, they teleported onto a spaceship, but this one was considerably larger and of a different make then the one they’d been on before.  “Good,” Loki muttered, “perhaps she’s taken up with new companions.”  

Then they heard the music.  It wasn’t nearly as old as that dreaded Pina Colada song, but it still made them pause.  It was entirely possible that Thora was traveling with others who liked Earth’s music, but it was doubtful.    

“Where’s it coming from?” Mobius whispered.  

Cautiously, they made their way down the hallway, ready for anything.  Except for perhaps that.

Up on a repair catwalk where two figures, one was partially buried in a vent, her fluffy tail peeking out and the other was Captain Brandy Quill.  Considering her state of dress, she had not been expecting company.  She was in a tank top and shorts, work gloves in place as they worked in tandem on a repair.  Every once and while she’d exaggerate a hip swing or a movement to dance along.  

Over the music Loki and Mobius could hear Rocket and Quill singing.  Judging from how they split up the duet, it was clear they had some practice.

“Appreciate every mixtape your friends make.  You never know, we come and go like on the interstate.”  Rocket’s voice was less than musically inclined, but it was earnest, carrying through the ship.  

Loki and Mobius lurked, not certain if they should draw attention to themselves or should sneak away without interrupting.  If they were careful enough, maybe they could avoid the wrath of the Captain entirely.     

It was then that the song shifted to the bridge.  Quill elected to stop her repair to tug on the mechanic’s creeper to get Rocket out of the vent, only to belt more of the song at her.  

“I only pray you never leave me behind—”

Rocket snickered under her breath.  “You always get so dramatic at this part.”

Quill was using her spanner as a microphone now.  “Because good music can be so hard to find.”

Rocket grinned.  “I should be filming.  Thunder Head would love this.”  

“I take your hand, hold it closer to mine.”  Quill was eating this up, chewing up the song and spitting it back out again with sheer unadulterated joy.  She tilted her head back, letting the spirit and lyrics pour out of her.  

“Thought love was dead, but now you're changing my mind!”    

“Okay,” Loki admitted to Mobius.  “She’s actually pretty good.”  Then he ducked as the spanner nearly collided with his head. 

Mobius jumped at the sound.  “Oh my god.”  

The music cut off.  Quill stared down at them with righteous anger.  “Don’t you dicks ever call?”

“Captain,” Loki tried to put on his most obsequious charm.  “Pardon the intrusion but this is only the second—”

“Fourth.”  Quill held up four fingers.  “Four times you flarking jerks have done this.”

“We’ve only been here twice,” Mobius said.  “I think I’d remember the other two.”

Rocket and Quill shared a disgusted look.  “Time travelers,” Rocket complained.  “At least it’s not in the middle of dinner this time.”

“Or when Tetrina’s trying to take a nap.”  Once again, the best friends shared a look, but this time one of a remembered agony.  

Things were getting off track.  Loki attempted to regain control.  “We’re here for—”

“We know.”  Quill pressed a button on her com-unit.  “Thora, your not-brother’s here again.  Collect him before we throw him out of the airlock for real this time.”

“Always with the airlock,” Mobius muttered.  

Quill wasn’t having it.  “Stop showing up unannounced and it won’t be a problem.”  

Less than a minute later, Thora barged into the room, already outfitted in her armor, her ax at the ready.  “Where are we going today?” Thora asked, beaming. 

“You seem awfully eager,” Mobius said.

“This is our fourth quest together,” Thora said.  “Why shouldn’t I be?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki could spot Quill making a “I told you” gesture. 

It seemed that his partnership with this variant of his brother would continue into the future.  Someway, somehow, Loki wouldn’t drive her away.  Loki found the thought more comforting than he would care to admit.    

“This shouldn’t be nearly so perilous as before,” Loki told her.  “But we need your strength regardless.”

“Excellent.”  Thora was more than up for the challenge. 

“Don’t bring her back full of holes this time,” Quill shouted down at them.  

“No promises,” Mobius said, dialing up the Tempad.  The Time Agents and Thor stepped through the portal, dodging any verbal barbs that Quill had left to throw at them.

As the portal closed, Thora said with a wide grin, "She's my girlfriend now."

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. It had begun.

My heart's a stereo It beats for you, so listen close Hear my thoughts in every no-ote Make me your radio And turn me up when you feel low This melody was meant for you Just sing along to my stereo

[invinciblerodent]

1, 4 and 35 for the baldurs gate ask game if you want

Of course! :)

@ Tell us about your Tav! Name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. Do you have a headcanon for where they're from? Their family? Are they a Dark Urge? Or did you choose an Origin Character? Was it an easy decision? (1)

- Arvid Trygg, he/him, dwarven Cleric of Tempus, War domain. I headcanon that he was originally raised in a small village monastery (he was technically born- and immediately abandoned there, but isn't too broken up about it), but was later sent to the city to "fill in" after the death of their previous healer, with the hopes of eventually becoming a high priest himself. This was about maybe a year or two ago. Even though he's a skilled combatant (all followers of Tempus are, he IS the god of warfare), healing and taking care of people is something he likes to do and is good at, so it was a fairly perfect fit- though we know it kinda didn't end up working out lol.

He considers the warrior-monks who raised him to be his only family- which stands to reason, after all his biological father doesn't know he exists, and his mother was like 16-17 when she had him and went back to her life afterwards. There were always a few other children around (not many, but a few), most doing seminary school, and the priests and monks were strict but fair, so he actually had a fairly pleasant childhood. He didn't get quite enough affection to know how to handle it as an adult, but he's... definitely functional at least.

I also headcanon that even though there is a strict hierarchy in the church of Tempus and there are specific terms to call people [Arvid is technically a Direhar I think, a guardian priest], among themselves they occasionally use "shield-brother" and "shield-sister" as a term of affection. In my mind that's not quite a comrade and not exactly family, but someone to whom you'd entrust your life, and for whose life you'd give yours. A person with whom you'd share a shield. (I'm hoping to whip it out in opportune moments! It's kind of excellent to use with a love interest early on because it sounds innocent and friendly, and they have no clue it actually means "I would die for you".)

~~~~

@ Do you remember in which order you recruited your companions? Which companion introduction would have felt the most familiar / like home to your Tav / Character? (4)

- I think the order went Shadowheart->Astarion->Gale->Lae'zel, and Lae'zel I only managed to get after I was already done with that first dungeon (I just went the wrong way lol). Then of course Wyll->Karlach.

I think as a fellow cleric and the circumstances under which they met (he freed her from the pod), he felt an immediate closeness with Shadowheart - despite them worshipping different gods, there is a mutual respect and understanding there that exists from the first moment. She's actually kind of his best friend right now, and definitely someone in whom he confides. There is nothing romantic there, just a deep friendship. He appreciated her trust in sharing her worship, and as a person whose deity is decidedly neutral, he respects how genuine her belief is. (As far as he's concerned, honest belief and a willingness to fight for it are always honorable.)

As someone who's only ever really thought of as personal friends were other clerics, priests, and religious folks, her presence is definitely something of a comfort, especially considering all the new things he's experiencing and feeling in general.

~~~~

@ Has your Character done anything that they regret in Act 1? (35)

Oh, definitely the Auntie Ethel stuff. He feels just rotten about the whole thing. When he met her at the druid grove she was like the FIRST person to fuss over him and his wellbeing like that (plus he never HAD a grandmother, he was VULNERABLE), so of course he threw himself into combat to defend her when they encountered her on the road. Of course then the swamp was revealed to be what it is, they found the poisoned apples along the way, and encountered her again, so now he... really regrets the way he didn't much try to hear those boys out and didn't believe them. They didn't have to die, they were just scared and trying to help their sister.

Also Mayrina... I think he regrets giving her the wand. I think he just keeps thinking about how he never should have even told her that he found it, much less used it. He wishes he could comfort her, and regrets not having gone there sooner to maybe have a shot at actually resurrecting Connor. It's silly of course, but he's a very lawful good cleric boy, and that cursed half-life is no life any would want to live.

Oh, he also feels pretty bad about the whole "cultists of the Absolute" business- he has respect for them because, well, their beliefs are genuine and they do fight to the death for them (and who is he to tell a person which god is right and which is wrong), but he really can't NOT fight against them. So the "is it een right for me to fight at all" is a bit of a dilemma that occasionally keeps him up at night.

.... He also kinda regrets not taking Lae'zel's offer of just pounding it out early on, but, yeah, he's never had a relationship and was pretty damn terrified of her. He also rejected Astarion and Wyll by this point, so there's a lot of "did I do the right thing, am I feeling the right things, am I doing something wrong and giving people unintended ideas, does my wanting to be close to Gale even MEAN anything, do I like him or just respect him (and think he's kind and handsome and cool and charming and etc), what's wrong with me" type of thinking going on. He's figuring out a lot of things many do at 16 now at 35.

[rolkstone]

10 Fandsoms 10 characters

tagged by @walkwithursus

Sideshow Bob, The Simpsons. A staple, for sure. I get in and out of the Simpsons fandom often but it's usually Bob who draws me back in. He's elegant, in aesthetics and voice and mannerisms. He has little ways of moving and speaking that are intoxicating. He's also quite complex and sympathetic. He's been ready to murder before and physically abuses people. He's in no way reformed. But his heart is hurting. He really doesn't feel appreciated or seen enough by anyone.

Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman, Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul. I already knew I'd love this character in BB because I love Bob Odenkirk in Tim and Eric. He turned a fairly minor, silly character into one of such depth and complexity. Fun fact: watching Better Call Saul lit a fire under my ass to pursue a law degree myself. Jimmy is very sympathetic but sometimes does things that are beyond cringy (all part of his plan, of course).

Light, Death Note. I just love this character; he's fucking horrible. The book could have gone to anyone, so it's interesting to see it in the hands of this red pilled asshole with a serious god complex. He loves himself for being so smart, but when it really counts...

Ryoko, Tenchi Muyo. I don't remember much from that show, nor much about Ryoko. But I bring her up because she was the first female character I developed a serious crush on.

Zhao Yunlan, Guardian. An excellent show, really fun and filled with characters and concepts. Zhao Yunlan is gorgeous of course but his real draw is his personality. He's technically a cop but at least he works on more supernatural cases and tries to help people. He is smitten with his co-worker from the beginning, and their love story promises to expand over may lifetimes

Villianelle, Killing Eve. Very cute, beautiful, sweet...and deadly. She acts like a typical uncaring killer in the beginning but she begins to unravel as the show goes on. Her obsessive love for Eve is fascinating, makes me hopeful for some consummation, and tragic. What really got to me from her is how deeply sad and empty she in inside no matter what it seems. Her job is assassin and she's expected to do her job well. But in her heart, she doesn't really want this.

Maurice Moss, the IT Crowd. I only just started watching this show, but it's very cute and funny. I don't dislike anyone. Maurice is adorable and his mannerisms and shyness remind me of myself. I can absolutely get that way around people. And I love "nerdy" stuff (esp. in the context of this show, where nerd meant STEM field devotee)

Jimmy Conway, Goodfellas. Definitely a character I think of when I'm writing my Mafia stories. I like that he's a "gent" to some people, esp. those who cooperate. He could be a good partner, till the second you disagree with him or no longer want to play ball.

Rochelle, Left 4 Dead 2. One of my absolute favorite games for years. I miss playing it (my computer can't handle it). She's cute and got a lot of fun voice commands. Of all the survivors I can identify with her and Nick the most (and I ship them). She loves Depeche Mode! She's brave but you can tell she's just hanging on and depends on the team to keep going. She seems defiantly hopeful and determined to reach the objective.

Biff, Back to the Future. At first he just seemed like your typical meatbag villian, and I won't pretend he's much more complex than that. But there's something that draws me to him, maybe seeing his struggles, mostly against himself. Bullies like him are usually compensating for something or are being abused themselves. He already gets treated like shit by the principal, and he's probably used to being figuratively spat on by teachers and other elders. He's loathsome, but I want him?

tagging: anyone who wants to do this!

[snowlikestardust]

Image descriptions:

Image one: Attention should be early aroused by presenting attractive objects--things of bright and beautiful colors, but not glaring--and sounds pleasant and soft to the ear. When you have succeeded in attracting a babe's attention to any object, it is well to let him examine it just as long as he chooses. Every time he turns it over, drops it, and takes it up again, he adds something to the little stock of his scanty experience. When his powers of attention are wearied, he will soon enough show it by actions. A multitude of new playthings, crowded upon him one after another, only serve to confuse him. He does not learn as much, because he is not allowed time to get acquainted with the properties of any of them.

Image two: Having had his little mind excited by a new object, he should be left in quiet, to toss, and turn, and jingle it, to his heart's content. If he looks up in the midst of his play, a smile should be always ready for him; that he may feel protected and happy in the atmosphere of love.

Images three and four: A mere babe will grieve and sob at the expression of distress on a mother's countenance; he cannot possible know what that expression means, but he feels that it is something painful--his mother's state affects him.

Image five: If in the same room, a smile or a look of fondness should now and then be bestowed upon him; and if in an adjoining room, some of the endearing appellations to which he has become accustomed, should once in a while meet his ear. The knowledge that his natural protector and best friend is near will give him a feeling of safety and protection, alike conducive to his happiness and beneficial to his temper.

Image six: It is not possible to indulge anger, or any other wrong feeling, and conceal it entirely. If not expressed in words, a child feels the baneful influence. Evil enters into his soul, as the imperceptible atmosphere he breathes, enters into his lungs: and the beautiful little image of God is removed farther and farther from his home in heaven.

Image seven: and say, 'This ball is round; this little tea-table is square. Now George knows what round and square means,'--it would give him something to think about. When he has a new toy, he will think to himself whether it is round or square.

Image eight: When a little child has been playing, and perhaps quarreling, out of doors, and comes in with his face soiled and blazed, sobbing and crying, it is an excellent plan to take him by the hand and say, 'What is the matter, my dear boy? Tell me what is the matter. But, how dirty your face is! Let me wash your face nicely, and wipe it dry, and then you shall sit in my lap and tell me all about it.' If he is washed gently, the sensation will be pleasant and refreshing, and by the time the operation is finished, his attention will be drawn off from his vexations; his temper will be cooled, as well as his face. Then seat him in your lap, encourage him to tell you all about his troubles, comb his hair gently in the meantime, and in a few minutes the vexation of his little spirit will be entirely soothed. This secret of calling off the attention by little kind offices is very valuable to those who have the care of invalids, or young children. Bathing the hands and feet, or combing the hair gently, will sometimes put a sick person to sleep when they can obtain rest in no other way.

Image nine: I cannot find language strong enough to express what a woman deserves, who embitters the whole existence of her offspring by filling their minds with such terrific images. She who can tell a frightful story to her child, or allow one to be told, ought to have a guardian appointed over herself.

Let us examine what the motives must be, that lead to such measures. It is indolence--pure indolence: a mother is not willing to take the pains, and practice the self-denial, which firm and gentle management requires; she therefore terrifies her child into obedience. She implants in his mind a principle that will, in all probability, make him more or less wretched through his whole life, merely to save herself a few moments' trouble! Very strong minds may overcome, or nearly overcome, early impressions of this kind; but in cases of weak nerves, or acute natural sensibility, it is utterly impossible to calculate the extent of the evil. And all this to save a little trouble! What selfishness!

Image ten: For instance, if there is any wonderful sight to be seen in the neighborhood, such as a caravan of animals, a striking picture, wonderful mechanism, &c. and if it is inconvenient for you [cut off from here]

/End image descriptions.

sorry i was researching the author of a victorian book about raising children and now i'm fascinated by her. clear my schedule we're talking about lydia maria child.

[foccaccia]

god, i just - can you imagine what zelda went through on her seventeenth birthday?

this is her last chance to awaken her powers. she’s spent her whole life begging to her goddess, the one whose blood runs through her veins, to help her, and she’s had nothing but silence. all of hyrule, all its peoples, are relying on her, watching her, and all she can do is disappoint them. she knows what she’s good at, what she excels at - zelda is a scientist, a researcher, a genius, and she knows this ancient technology will save them. it has done so before. but the world isn’t looking for another scientist. the sheikah are awash with those. they need the princess of legend, and this sixteen year old child is failing them, and she doesn’t know how to fix it.

so this is her last chance. finally allowed at the spring of wisdom. you know, when you climb mount lanayru as link, if you aren’t wearing proper, thick clothing, you die within an hour. zelda sits in the freezing waters for hours, in only a thin white sleeveless dress, and begs to a goddess who does not answer. this is her spring, naydra is her dragon, wisdom is her triforce. nothing. her best friend, her loyal knight, stands behind her, silent as always, and he is not disappointing the world. he wields the sword that seals the darkness, and he is a master of his craft. there too are her other friends, champions of their people.

and zelda is pulled away, shivering, because hylia isn’t answering her. she’s failed, again, and it weighs unbearably heavy on this child’s mind. she’s supposed to be the next in the line of chosen princesses, a rich history of powerful and grand women who wielded magic as easy as they breathe, and this zelda is powerless. those talents she does have she clings to her chest, and her father the king bats them down with a sneer.

and then ganon wakes up.

they should be prepared, zelda or no zelda - link has the master sword, ready to defend his people. the champions have the divine beasts, huge and powerful machines that could each tear down an army on their own. hyrule has gathered to it guardians, weapons, towers, and it will stand strong as it did ten thousand years ago - zelda knows this, zelda helped rebuild this army. this is what she has given to her people.

what zelda has given to her people turns against them. no help comes from the champions, spread across hyrule, as the grandest warriors hyrule has to offer are torn to shreds in the places they thought safest. armies of unstoppable machines tear through villages like wet paper, rendering so much of hyrule a wasteland. zelda fixed those machines, tuned those gears, led the sheikah to repair them. demise is screaming over zelda’s home, and zelda knows it is her fault. she did not only fail to wake her powers - powers that could stop ganon - but she aided him in his destruction of her home. link has to tear her away. she has to run.

it is her seventeenth birthday, and in a field surrounded by an impossible amount of guardians, she watches her best friend die saving her life.

of course, this is when her powers wake up. too late, of course, for the champions, for link, for hyrule. all she can do is entrust her best friend’s body to purah and robbie (they’re all but children too, all of them, these teenaged heroes tasked by fate with the weight of so many lives) and pray that the chamber of resurrection will save him someday (because her prayers have done her so much good so far).

she follows the voice of a sword in her head - no sword meant for her. this is the sword that will kill ganon, and she cannot use it. the one who can is dead. it’s her fault it’s broken and burned, and all she can do is lay it at the feet of the great deku tree, older than time counted, and promise it that link - memories or no memories, she has to believe he will come back.

and then she turns around.

zelda has been seventeen for so short a time and it has cost her everything, those few things she could claim were both hers and good. and she turns around and heads to her shattered home - the broken castle already crawling with demons and monsters, with malice and poison and glowing eyes creeping through the once warm halls, and an immortal evil clouding around it. zelda cannot kill ganon. the sword is broken, the hero dead, and the chance of either coming back are slim, and still zelda marches up to her home and she raises her hand.

it is zelda’s seventeenth birthday for a century. time is nothing in her eternal locked battle with ganon, just barely enough to keep him tethered to the castle. even still, he can reach out - the blood moons keep the hordes of monsters alive, keep the guardians and the divine beasts possessed, keep naydra (her dragon) poisoned.

what must it have been like, that century of seventeenth birthdays? zelda’s own magic keeping them locked in the cycle (though haven’t they been locked in this cycle throughout all their lives), eternally fighting? do you think she ever faltered in her faith in link? a hundred years is a long time to hope a dead man will wake up.

and even then. even knowing link woke up, then, able to stretch just far enough to see him, unable to help beyond a watchful eye... link doesn’t remember her. at all. eventually, flashes, seconds of recollections, but he never remembers fully. and it takes time to reach her, to gather his strength again. longer still that zelda has to wait, eternally just barely seventeen years old, watching the boy who was once her best friend age by the day, gather new scars, remember the feel of a weapon in his hands, rescue the spirits of her dead friends.

link was always a better hero.

god. and then he comes to save her, and in a century, all she could do was hold him back. link draws his sword, charges, and ganon is defeated so soon after. oh, she can give him a weapon, can pick up the remains of ganon and seal it away, but link does in the course of a few hours what zelda would never have been able to.

and then what? then it’s over? not really. the sun is setting on her seventeenth birthday, and zelda is over a century old, and her once best friend turned feral wild warrior is looking up at her, and zelda has to decide how to rebuild a kingdom. what to do next.

im just saying. the poor girl had probably the worst birthday ever.

[starker1975]

Stephen Strange could play around with an apple and make it rot and go back to fresh and unbitten. They tryna tell me he couldn't have done the same glowy time-turning thing for Tony Stark as he was dying of his injuries? Enough so he could be saved? Also the whole team hand-holding thing in Guardians Of The Galaxy, why didn't they try that? People give me the excuse that Quill was a half-god at the time and I'm like ??? Thor is a God! On the Avengers team they also had The Hulk, not one but two fecken super soldiers, A mighty powerful Spider-Man, Dr. Strange and his magic buddies, The Scarlet witch, and mutherfucken Captain Marvel?! They couldn't have done the same thing to save Tony? To stand together in that epic battle against Thanos and his homies? Why were the rUsSos so willing to kill RDJ off, he was like one of the best things in the entire MCU. They could have thought something up to save him if they wanted to. Also I'm PMS:ing hard and I just get so upset sometimes with how they let go of Tony in such a way. Sorry, I just had to vent! ^_^

I think you’re completely right. I even had a seven paragraph rant typed out explaining why; I backspaced it all since it was long winded, but it all lead up to the conclusion that Tony died and sacrificed everything for nothing—for people who didn’t deserve or appreciate it. Not because he had to die, but because they wanted him dead. I went over a few key moments in the MCU where his unfair treatment is revealed, but here are two main ones:

In the beginning, he was originally rejected from the Avengers, and proceeded to save everybody in the battle of NY. Then, Steve Rogers still had his name go first on the memorial placard even though he barely did anything.

And in the end, they cut the scene on the endgame battlefield where every single hero took a knee to honour Tony. (I guess we should be grateful he got a funeral since Natasha got fuck all too. Easy to see who the writers’ favourites are.)

All that to show that he’s disrespected by writers and therefore the other characters themselves. Nothing he did was ever good enough for anybody, and he was consistently written off as an irredeemable douche. They gave him his happy ending and took it away. 😃 (although I would argue over whether an ending with Pepper was ideal since she mostly complained and rejected his identity for their entire relationship—again, a writer issue bc they tend to make women discontent nags. But still.)

I don’t know. It’s just depressing really. Tony didn’t have to die and he shouldn’t have. I mean…he’s iconic and a badass, so him dying while making the ultimate sacrifice and then getting a statue and documentary etc. is an excellent fuck-you to his doubters/enemies. But of course, it’s not as effective as it should be because people STILL talk about shit his pre-IM1 character, and Beck and his minions came for the barf glasses in FFH because they couldn’t let him rest. (Not to mention Toomes in Homecoming was anti Tony too as if he caused the Battle of NY—they even make Spider-Man villains be villains of Tony they hate him so much.) (even the Iron Man trilogy villains aren’t bad people Tony decided to stop himself, they were specifically people who HATED TONY. Stane and Hammer out of jealousy etc., Vanko for something Howard did to his dad, and Killian bc Tony was mean to him once.)

And that’s all just canon bullshit. Don’t get me started on the MCU fandom. I once saw a tik tok where someone criticized the new Captain America bc his intro on the football field with the marching band was too similar to Iron Man and his cheerleaders in IM2, meanwhile Steve Rogers used to have dancers and a play while he toured the front lines??? Like out of all the reasons this fool could’ve criticized John Walker, he chose to compare his MARCHING BAND INTRO to Tony’s Expo cheerleaders. Like what a fucking reach!!! (Meanwhile golden boy Steve can do whatever he wants and still be worthy of mjolnir) That’s how much people hate him lmao. Our king should’ve just snapped Peter back and let everyone else rot.

OOPS I turned it into a long answer again. Hahahaha. Anyways. Fuck anyone who isn’t Tony Stark. That’s my point.

[screamting]

I finally finished skyward sword so now I can actually put out my basic reading of the Zelda Religion Thing without being accused of skimming.

Early Canon History As Said To Skyward Link:

Three Golden Goddesses/The Old Gods/Trio create the world. They create Hylia, to essentially be the guardian deity of the world, and the triforce, which represents the Trio's power of creation. Then they leave, ala clockmaker theory (the theory that a god created the world and then let it go ticking on its own, like a clockmaker, because once they've made the clock it's supposed to continue to function on its own)

The Triforce is the power to shape the world through desires/wishes, but it can only be used by mortals: immortals like gods can't use it. Hylia is guarding it and can grant access to it (she decides the best way to decide who gets it is through fucking puzzle labyrinths) but can't use its power herself.

Demise shows up to consume the world. Things get very confusing but at the end of the fight, Hylia has won a phyrric victory, Demise is sealed but not destroyed, and Hylia become mortal voluntarily thus entering the reincarnation cycle. It's implied in wikis that Hylia becoming mortal releases the Triforce to be able to use it? but that is the part that mainly confuses me. Regardless, Hylia stalls for time until later reincarnation of her finds someone (Link) who is capable of wielding the Triforce as her Proxy.

(Unnecessary note on reincarnation: The person who can wield the Triforce is assumed to be the same soul reincarnated over and over, but this isn't strictly provable, and aside from considering them a precious person, all Zeldas and Links are treated as separate people, just with 'the bloodline of the goddess' running through them, but like... You go back far enough and it's all the same bloodline. If all humans in Skyloft eventually became Hylians, then all Hylians are descendants of the goddess' people. If we take it as a literal bloodline, this also means that a lot of Gerudo probably are also in the bloodline, since they usually intermarry with Hylians. And if it's a metaphorical bloodline, then we literally don't have to worry about it lmao.)

So with the setup the games have given us, this is a possible way the religous setup of Zelda works:

Hyrule's World was set up in a Creation/Destruction cycle. This is pretty natural, and an instinctive way to set up a world. Hylia is a Cultivator Goddess (mother goddess, one who raises but doesn't dominate), and Demise is literally called Demise: he is either a manifestation of Entropy on this plane, or was created by the Golden Goddesses also as a yin-to-yang situation, where Demise would destroy things that Hylia created, leaving more room for more creation later on, like how a volcano erupts burns everything down, but new land grows from that eruption.

The issue comes when the cycle became imbalanced. One thing that keeps coming up with Ganon is that he equates rule and destroy pretty equally. He will rule Hyrule! And it will be destroyed. But also he will get rid of the barren ocean! He will create a new Hyrule... which he will rule over with a harsh hand uwu.

It sounds to me like Demise wanted to at some point take Hylia's role as the creator/guardian Diety, but his power is literally destruction. So the way he understands raising something is like... to the ground. It is a fundimental Nature Thing that influences his understanding of the world. If he destroys the world, he is making it anew maybe, or maybe the monsters are his equivalent of Hylians, or etc. Regardless, his plan is basically "I'm in charge now and it will be Better", and there's nothing beyond that--he's good at his job and he's sure he'll be excellent at this other job as well.

At some point after Skyward Sword and being defeated by a Hylian with the Triforce, he changes strategies. I'm not certain if the plan was to get the Triforce of Power because it is the most powerful of the three, or if he meant to possess all three pieces and only managed to grab one, but his attention turned to claiming the Triforce instead.

The Triforce, which holds the ability to shape the world they live in (the power of a creator god, available to the beings in the world it shapes) is only attainable by a mortal, so Demise does as Hylia did, and becomes mortal.

It is... difficult to figure out how to talk about Ganondorf without discussing racism inherent in the design of the Gerudo. But at some point Demise has a connection to Ganondorf of the Gerudo, either that being the mortal form he's been reincarnated into, or "a manifestation of Demise's hatred." It could be chance that Demise became a Gerudo, or like... deeply unfortuante implications that I don't want to deal with for a Watsonian the-religion-is-true type speculation?? Doylian answer: the real world had racist influences. Watsonian answer: Gerudo have the goddess bloodline too, making them capable of wielding the Triforce, and it's just deeply unfortunate that the dieties in this world have strong opinions on their gender.

So as Demise becomes Ganondorf, he starts doing the thing Hylia did upon becoming mortal: gains the fun mortal emotions and experiences, and becoming less godly. The Power Triforce allows Ganondorf to live a very long time, so sometimes he's the same person between Zelda/Link incarnations, and that also gives him a long time to build up mortal experiences.

He is no longer a being completely of hate, but he has yet to obtain the power of 'creation' the way Hylia has it, because of his inherent roots as a being of destruction and entropy. Even when he intends to make something, his method for doing so is through destruction. In Wind Waker, he's furious that Hyrule's been flooded, but the ocean is a dead and barren place, and he wants to fix it: he wants to positively change the world... and he does it by ripping the seas apart trying to find the Triforce.

Conversely, Hylia is a being of creation/preservation, which is why she can't directly fight effectively. She can make prisons to seal Demise away, but that's still creating a prison. She can make light arrows, but needs someone else to fire them. She can make a master sword, but needs someone to weild it for her. That's why she sends out heroes as proxies in the fights. She isn't an omnipotent type deity. She gave up a lot of her power to get the triforce, and she can't walk it back. I see a lot of fic with Links frustrated that Hylia has 'put them in this position' or 'relies on young kids', which like, I get? But you have to think smaller gods. She has power on her own, but not the power of outright destruction, which is what she needs if she were going to destroy Demise forever. If she did manage to destroy demise, presumably she would then take up the role as both creator and destroyer? But since she's locked in mortal form, maybe the world is already functionally goddessless, which is why the only working relics are things from the ancinet past, when she was immortal, and killing Demise now would mostly just mean less Ganondorf-based events in the world, but otherwise not change much.

Hyrule is locked in a very degraded creation/destruction cycle, where the creation goddess is finding ways to destroy, and the destruction diety is trying to create. Both of them are mortal, leading to huge stretches of time where one or both are dead or sealed away, and when that happens, the Triforce is sealed away with them: it can only be used when all three parts are combined. So Hyrule, a place with absolutely 100% proven godly magic, is fully unable to use it to change their environment for long stretches of time.

This is. A very busted clock.

[bloodycoolfrye]

🇱🇧🇵🇸🇾🇪YOU CAN NOT BEAT A COUNTRY THAT IS PROTECTED BY ALLAH!❤️‍🔥

[cuttoothed]

Day 5 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "scars". Set in a nebulous, post-finale future that may or may not take place in the same universe as the therapy fic.

Warnings: Martin is trans in this, and briefly discusses past gender dysphoria and suicidal ideation. There is also a scene where someone reacts poorly to Jon’s scars, and mention of other such instances (staring, whispering).

*

The Riverbank Cafe is their usual go-to for lunch; it’s small and cozy, generally quiet, and does truly excellent toasted sandwiches. It’s also not far to walk, which is nice on a day like today, when the air is chilly and damp.

The bell over the door jingles as they enter, and the waitress glances up from where she’s clearing a table. She’s new—or at least, Jon hasn’t seen her before—and looks more than a bit flustered by the modest lunch rush.

“Take a seat anywhere,” she calls, bustling off to help another customer. They find a table near the back and wait; they’re in no hurry. Jon is just warming up enough to take his coat off when she makes her way over to them, menus in hand.

“Sorry about the wait,” she says breathlessly. “It’s my first day.”

“No problem,” says Martin sympathetically. “First days are tough. I remember my first day at my old job, my boss was a right arse.”

Jon rolls his eyes affectionately, and tugs off his gloves and scarf as Martin takes a menu. He reaches for his own menu, and sees the waitress’ eyes widen, darting from the pale knife scar on his neck to the shiny flesh of his right hand. Her expression goes from shock to horror to pity in the space of a second.

“Oh god, what happened?” she blurts out, and then her face goes crimson and she’s looking anywhere but at Jon. “Sorry!” she stutters, “I didn’t mean—god, I’m sorry. I’ll just...I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

She hurries away, almost running, and Jon feels a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Across from him, Martin looks furious, eyes blazing and jaw set angrily.

“I’m going to talk to the manager,” he says. “That was completely out of line!”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon tells him. “She didn’t mean anything.” She’s young—hardly more than a teenager—and she reacted in a perfectly understandable, instinctive way to the sight of not one but two horrible scars. Jon doesn’t want to get her in trouble on her first day,

“It doesn’t matter what she meant—” Martin begins, and then stops when Jon places a hand, the unburned one, over his. He huffs in annoyance.

“Fine,” he says. “Let’s—let’s get lunch to go though, okay? I’m not sure I can hold my tongue if we stay.”

“Okay,” Jon agrees; he’s lost his appetite anyway.

Jon isn’t vain. He knows how the scars look, and mostly, it doesn’t bother him. They don’t matter to anyone who matters to him; Martin loves him scars and all, and the friends he’s made here have never drawn attention to them or asked him to explain.

He sees people staring at them sometimes; especially children, who are too young to be polite about it. He’s heard the occasional “What’s wrong with that man?” and the whispered admonitions from parents or guardians to not be rude. For the most part, though, he can almost forget they exist, except in cold weather when his hand stiffens up, or when the deep muscle scars in his leg start aching, and he has to use his cane for a few days.

But inevitably, something always happens like today, and he’s forcefully reminded of them. Of the fact that he is wounded, damaged; of the other wounds that can’t be seen, that he and Martin both bear.

It’s not fair to Martin, either, having to put up with strangers staring or whispering when he’s with Jon. The constant, visible reminders of everything they’ve been through. Jon sees the way his expression goes hurt and closed off sometimes, when he sees the scar he gave Jon, and Jon wishes there was some way he could spare him the pain.

Jon will admit that the cafe incident throws him off kilter for the rest of the day. He doesn’t think he’s been obvious about it, however, until they’re getting ready for bed that night; he catches sight of his bare torso in the bedroom mirror, and flinches, and Martin frowns in a way that says they’re about to have a serious conversation.

“Are you all right?” he asks. Jon blinks at him, trying to look uncomprehending.

“Absolutely fine,” he says; Martin looks at him skeptically, and he relents. “I’ve been...a bit preoccupied, I suppose?”

“Moody,” Martin corrects, and Jon shrugs. Maybe.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Is it because of what happened at lunch?”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon tells him. Martin raises an eloquent eyebrow, which says louder than words: I don’t believe you. Jon knows from experience that Martin won’t relent until they talk about what’s wrong; a lesson learned from therapy, and yes, it’s the correct and healthy thing to do, but sometimes Jon would like to just stew in his feelings by himself a bit, thank you very much.

He sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “These—it can’t be nice, having a constant visual reminder of—of everything that happened.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Martin looks confused. “Those things—or, well, most of them, they happened to you, Jon. You’re the one who was hurt—who was deliberately put in harm’s way.”

“Yes, well, at least I don’t have to look at myself.”

Jon can’t keep the bitter note out of his voice, and there’s a taste like bile in the back of his throat. Martin is staring at him now, wide eyed. He sits down heavily on the bed and pats the space next to him. When Jon doesn’t move, he pats it again.

“Come here,” he says. “Please, Jon.”

Jon sits beside him, folding his arms defensively. He doesn’t want to hear reassurances now: that the scars don’t matter, that Martin loves him regardless. Even if it’s true, it doesn’t take away from their ugliness, from what they represent.

Martin doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he reaches down and pulls his t-shirt off over his head, leaving him in just his pajama bottoms. Jon’s eyes are drawn as always to the freckles on his shoulders, the wiry, ginger hair on his chest and belly, the softness and the strength of him. Martin takes Jon’s hand—the burned one—in his, and presses it to the pale, silvery scar on the right side of his belly.

“When you see this scar, does it remind you of the fact that my appendix burst when I was twelve and I almost died?”

“N-no,” says Jon. Martin’s told him the story, of course, but it’s an old scar, long since faded; the part Jon remembers most is Martin grinning with delight, telling him how the nurses in the hospital sneaked him extra ice cream while he was recovering.

“What about these?” Martin asks, moving Jon's hand up to his chest, to the faded t-anchor scars. “Do they make you think of how my dysphoria used to be so bad I wanted to die?”

“No—of course not!” Jon’s heart aches, and he clutches at Martin’s hand. Martin smiles.

“Good, because they shouldn’t. These scars mean I survived—I got the treatment I needed, and my life got better. I found you.”

“Martin,” Jon starts to say, but Martin shakes his head.

“I know it’s not the same. What was done to you, it was...horrifying. Monstrous. But it comes down to the same thing, Jon. Our scars might not be pretty, but they mean that we survived. You survived, and you’re here with me.” He tugs Jon’s hand up and presses a fierce kiss to the shiny, scarred skin across his knuckles. “I love them for that.”

Jon feels a lump rising in his throat, his vision blurring with tears. He wraps his arms around Martin and pulls him close, buries his face against Martin’s warm, solid shoulder. Martin’s hands pet soothingly over his back and sides, don’t flinch from the knot of scar tissue below Jon’s rib cage where the knife drove in, in those last, desperate moments.

“I love you,” he mumbles, his voice thick with emotion. It’s the only thing he can think to say. The only thing that really matters.

“I love you,” says Martin, and they stay like that for a while, skin to scarred skin.

[wayfayrr]

Well its definitely been longer than a week. To be serious though I apologise for taking over a month to write this. I'd also like to say thanks for the attention the previous chapters got - its more than I would've ever thought to have gotten ^-^

warnings: a fight(but not super descriptive) and some mild swearing (also sorry if Childe seems ooc)

I hit him. Hard.

Not enough to kill mind you, but enough to knock him out of that stupor. Need to be careful here after all, his death won’t help my case at all. He swung his blades. I dodged, throwing off his balance. Giving me time to back off.

If I can bait out his transformation, that should wear him out enough for me to get away. Having a guess based on in game he, and now this is highballing his strength, shouldn't be any more of a problem than a hive knight.

Another swing and again dodged. I’d guess that means it's my turn now, no? With a swing, a wave of arc is sent toward him. Genuinely you’d think that he would be able to put up more of a fight.

“You’re stronger than I assumed, however I refuse to allow you to mock her excellency any longer!”

What perfect timing!

This is a lot stranger in person … more awkward too

…

Hold on - why is he dropping to his knees?!?

“Your eminence. I - I can never apologise for my transgressions. If there is anything I can do to earn your forgiveness, I will take any punishment.” So…

Everyone here is just utterly insane. One moment I’m public enemy number one for ZERO reason and then the next I'm being bowed to like some I’m some god. This has to be a ploy to lower my guard, no-one is this fickle in their beliefs are they?

[Hate to be a bother bu-ut, you two aren’t quite alone right now guardian]

[Now whatever do you mean by tha-] “OH SHIT - HOW LONG HAS THAT BEEN THERE!?!?” As you can imagine I was fairly surprised to turn around to see a ruin guard just standing there as when playing the game they are not the most friendly to anyone unfortunate to cross them, yet here one is staring at us like a judgy toddler on the subway.

“Your grace? Are you alright?” Well he clearly hasn’t noticed it. Wait, is he still calling me that? Wasn’t this man literally boasting about how he was going to kill me in their name seconds ago? And now he’s addressing me by it!? I have no clue what is even happening anymore, though it might not hurt to ask him to clarify (not with how he’s currently acting at least).

“Alright so, look I don’t have a single clue what you are playing at, so if you mind could you please explain what or who you are talking about” Well there goes nothing. Either he’ll tell me or he won't, that ruin guard is still just standing there...

And right before he could answer the ruin guard stopped being so dormant choosing to instead lift me up within its palm before turning around to walk off to who knows where. Because of course it did. My Luck™ of actually figuring out why everyone here hates me like I just kicked a sick puppy continues to hold strong. The surprising thing actually is that It's not hurting me, it might be harmless to let this play out and see where I’ll end up being taken. For some reason I doubt it will be any worse than any of the places where I’ve been shunned from.

“Do you need help, your reverence?”

“No I’m alright, thanks.” I’d much rather just take my chances with the ruin guard than risk being around anymore of the characters. At least if things turn sour this way I can end them without remorse, unlike trying to hide and having Phosphor delay my resurrections so they’ll leave thinking that my mauled corpse is all that remains.

[He’s still following us Madeline, you know that right?]

[Well isn't that just charming. Maybe he’ll have the chance to finish his sentence.] If the reason was any less clear it’d probably be like trying to use a ‘window’ made from bolting a sheet of plasteel onto a wall of concrete. At the moment the only thing we can do is hope that the logs we recorded were found by the right people and that they decided to act on the information. The city should be fine as well. There are enough guardians to defend it so there’s nothing to really worry about there.

“Your excellency, you are the god Teyvat was created for are you not? The abyss was filled with scriptures detailing your actions. Just because those heretics couldn’t recognise doesn’t devalue you” Alright, so I’ve had a cult founded around me all because I picked up and played an old game. That makes perfect sense doesn’t it. No wonder it was left heavily encrypted on Europa, Clovis would’ve had a field day messing with their data. It probably would’ve given him a giant ego boost as well if he’d had found it. It might be fun to ask him about it once I get back. And the cult? Well I mean, I do know it's not entirely uncommon for a light bearer to have a cult devoted to them (I mean just look at the followers of osiris) but for us hunters it’s rare. Part because of how good we are at staying off of the grid and the other because, well … we’re mostly seen as the ‘less serious’ of the guardian classes. I’ve also never wanted to have one, as the idea of having standards to live and prove yourself against is terrifying.

“And now that you’re here and I know you are truly yourself. I can take you to snezhnaya, the tsaritsa will treat you-”

“Why would I ever want to stay in Teyvat.”

“W- well We- no Tevyat was made for you. Why wouldn’t you want to see it’s beauty?”

“After how you all treated me? Pft. The second the chance comes for me to leave. I will take it. Without any second thought.” Well there are a few exceptions, but it's not like he needs to know about them.

[ray-ray-writings]

Visiting Hemlock-Dream

This is a Dream x gn!reader in the dreamsmp! Small thing, hemlock is another type of poison. It is actually the poison that the Greek philosopher Socrates was forced to consume after he was found guilty in his trail. 

Masterlist here

This is a part two to Sweet as Cyanide (here), so if you haven’t read that yet you can check it out . Don’t worry. I’ll wait…..

All good? Okay here we go!

Y/N is finally able to visit Dream in prison. 

Y/N’s POV

“Are you sure about this? You know no one would blame you if you never wanted to see him again,” Niki questioned, a soft hand resting on my shoulder. I had to force myself not to roll my eyes and scoff. Instead, I settled for a fake shy smile and a small head nod, “I know Nik. But I really want to see him. I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help it,” I explained, hoping desperately she would leave it at that. Niki gave me a pitiful smile as she nodded, giving my arm a tight squeeze. “I know what you mean… I’ll be right here when you get out,” She assured, wrapping her arms around me in a quick hug before taking a few steps back. “Thanks Niki. I’ll see you in a bit,” I claimed softly before turning toward the prison. I took a deep breath before making my way to the entrance. 

I let out a deep breath as I reached up and pressed the button, letting Sam know I was there. A noise sounded letting me know I could enter and pass through the grid. I was greeted by Sam at his desk.  “Hey Y/N” Sam greeted me, holding a stack of papers. “Hey Sam,” I greeted back, my eyes scanning around the place. “This looks really nice,” I complimented the warden on his build. “Thank you!” He beamed, handing the papers he held to me. “These are just waiver you need to sign. They basically say that you release the prison from all responsibility if you get hurt and that that responsibility falls on the prisoner you are visiting.” He explained, handing me a pen. I hummed and quickly scanned the documents before signing them. 

Sam quickly took them and tucked them away in his desk before standing up and moving out from behind the desk. “Alright. We’re good to move on.” I followed him out of the room and into a room full of chests. “Please put all your things in this chest here,” He asked, motioning to a chest near the door. I gave him a nod before quickly emptying my inventory. Once I was done, I turned and proved to Sam that there was nothing left on my person. Sam gave me a smile and a nod before we moved on once more. 

My excitement grew as we walked down the path I had only been down once before. My hands seemed to shake at the sight of the lava wall that hid my boyfriend from my view. “Hey, if you’re too nervous to do this, you can turn back around. You don’t have to see him,” Sam comforted, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. He was taking my excitement as nerves… good. I took a deep breath and gave him a shy smile, “I’m okay Sam, really. I want to see him,” I assured the tall man. “Okay… Do you want me to stay here with you or go back to the cams?” Sam questioned, still unsure if he should leave me alone with ‘the monster’. “You can go watch on the cams. I’ll be fine, even if something were to happen you could be back here in a flash,” I claimed with a small smile. 

Sam gave me a small nod, “Alright, here you go.” Sam reached over to the wall and pressed the button that controlled the lava. Slowly, the lava stopped falling, revealing my love. I felt my breath catch in my throat at the sight of the blonde boy that had my whole heart. The iron bars fell allowing me free access to Dream. Sam gave me a pat on the back before he disappeared out the door. 

I wasted no more time and ran to Dream. A smile, a real smile, formed on his face as I raced toward him. Our bodies crashed together with the swift motion, my arms wrapping around his neck, his around my waist. I squeezed him tightly as I buried my face in his neck. I couldn’t help the tears that fell from my eyes and onto his skin. “I missed you so much bub,” I cried into his neck. “Shhh, love,” he murmured, rubbing one hand up and down my back, holding me close. 

“I missed you too. I’ve been so lonely here. I’ve missed your sweet words, your gorgeous face. I miss waking up next to you every morning. I love you so much,” he muttered into my ear, pressing a kiss to my temple. His words shocked me a bit. Yes, I love Dream and he loves me, but he almost never acted like this. “I’ve missed everything about you. I miss your kisses and cuddles. I miss the way you’d threaten everyone for even looking at me in the wrong way. I’ve missed going to sleep next to you, cuddling and waking up the same way. I love you so much too,” I muttered back. 

Dream pulled away slightly, just enough to face me before crashing his lips into mine. My eyes fluttered closed as I completely melted into the kiss and into my boyfriend. I missed my love so much. I missed feeling his lips on mine. His gentle touches, his sweet smiles, his manipulation of everyone around us. He’s mine and I am his, no matter what and no matter where. 

Dream was the one to pull away from our kiss. “God I’ve missed that,” He announced, grinning from ear to ear. I couldn’t help but giggle and return the grin, “I’ve missed that too.” Dream slowly unwrapped himself from me, but quickly reached out and took my hand. He walked me over to his bed. He let go of my hand before sitting down on his bed, resting his back against the wall. I raised my eyebrow at his actions but he simply patted his lap telling me to sit down. I giggled and rolled my eyes at the action, but obeyed. I quickly moved my legs so that there was one on either side of his thighs and I sat on his lap. Once again, my arms moved to wrap around his neck and his came to wrap around my voice. 

“So,” Dream began once we got settled, “How’s it going out in the free world?” Dream asked, teasingly. I could tell that he was both asking about the server, but was also making a joke about the fact everyone thought that I was now ‘free’ from his control. “It’s all fine, I guess. You were right. Everyone began coddling me the second that prison door slammed behind me. I’ve been staying with Niki because they think going back to our house is too painful for me,” I informed Dream, who simply scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“The more important thing though,” I started, lowering my voice a lot as to not have it picked up by the cameras, “I can’t get a hold of Technoblade. No one has seen him, or at least not that they’re telling me. I went to his house and he wasn’t there, I went to Phil’s house and he said he hadn't seen him. But I’ll keep looking. I’m going to get you out of here.” I promised my boyfriend quietly. Dream’s brow furrowed, “That’s really odd. Especially since Philza hasn’t seen him… He must remember he owes me that favorite. But you have my full trust, love. I know you’ll make me proud.” 

My heart swelled at his words. It was so comforting to hear that. Even though weeks ago, he promised me it wasn’t my fault he was here, I could help but still feel guilty about it. Especially because I had to pretend that I was happy he was gone. I didn’t respond with words, instead leaning forward and pressing my face into the side of his neck and pressing a small kiss there. “I love you.” “I love you too.” 

The rest of the time we spent together was in that position.  I told him about all the new structures that were being built around the server. I told him about how everyone was working together but there was definitely still some tension. Dream didn’t seem surprised at that at all. Dream told me about his days at the prison. He had a small clock gifted to his by Sam. He admitted to me that he would sometimes throw his clock out of his cell into the lava so Sam would come in and bring him a new one, allowing Dream to have some form of human contact. He got three meals a day, but he claimed none have ever been good as my cooking, that made me blush. Dream spent most of his day thinking about me and the things he would be doing if he wasn’t locked up. He kept a little journal in order to keep himself sane. 

In a much quieter tone, Dream also told me of the little things he’s noticed about the prison. How the lava always takes a few seconds before it begins its descent. Dream told me he knew that the redstone sometimes would misfire and Sam would have to take the time to fix it. Sometimes it only took a few minutes but there were also times he’d be gone for many hours. Dream also spoke of where he thinks the elder guardian that causes mining fatigue was being held. I listened very carefully to what he was telling me. Sam is an excellent builder, even better engineer, but nobody was perfect and it sounds like to me that Dream was slowly but surely finding Pandora’s Achilles heel.

It felt so good to be in Dream’s arms again though, even in this circumstance. In the many years we’ve been dating, I’ve never been away from Dream for that long before and it was really hard. Which explains why I was so excited for this visit… But alas, all good things must come to an end. 

“Times up Y/N…” Sam called softly from the platform behind us. I looked over my shoulder and gave the man a nod in acknowledgement. I turned back to Dream, leaned forward and pressed a swift kiss to his lips. “Goodbye my love,” I whispered to the blonde man, tears threatening to fall again from my eyes. A smile appeared on his lips, “Goodbye love,” He returned at the same level. I slowly got off of my boyfriend and walked away from Dream. Once I was out of the cell, I turned back around to face Dream, who had also stood up from his bed “I’ll be back soon,” I promised the blonde boy who remained in his cell. A small chuckle left his lips as the iron bars enclosed him once more, “I’ll be here.” 

With that, I took a few more steps back to stand next to Sam. I gave my boyfriend a small wave as Sam pressed the button to make the lava begin pouring from the ceiling. I could see Dream's sad smile as he waved back at me and then he was gone. 

“You okay?” Sam asked gently, a hand resting on my shoulder. “Yeah,” I sniffed, reaching up and wiping at my eyes, “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Thank you for letting me see him,” I thanked, changing the topic. Sam gave me a soft look as he nodded, “Of course. You’re always welcome to come back. I can even show you around to other rooms if you ever want.” I nodded at his words. “That sounds really cool. I’d love to see them. I’d love to see this whole place,” I told him as cooly as I could. The one thing I could not do right now was raise suspicion. “When we get back to the front desk we can set a time and date!” He offered cheerfully. Once again I nodded, this time a bright smile beaming across my face. “I’d like that. 

I couldn’t help but mentally chuckle at the situation though. I don’t know why after all this time everyone still thinks I’m just so sweet and innocent. Sam offering to show me around like a father would show his child around his work place on bring your kid to work day simply confirmed that thought even more. Little does he know how hard it’s going to bite him in the butt. I’m going to get my boyfriend out of this Pandora’s Vault…. If it’s the last thing I do. 

There you go! I hope you enjoyed! If so, be sure to leave a like! Maybe even reply or a reblog?

[p-artsypants]

Crushed

Stuck under a collapsed building together, Chat Noir and Marinette have a heart to heart.

Ao3 | FF.net

I originally wrote this as a secret santa gift, but it strayed too far from what the giftee wanted, so I did something else. I decided to finish this anyway, and I hope you like it!

—

This akuma attack was not going great. He called himself ‘Bomb Voyage’ (“Like in the Incredibles?” “Yes, Chat. I do believe Hawkmoth ripped that name.”) And he was blowing things up right and left. 

When the Lucky Charm bullhorn fell into her hands, she had some sort of plan in the works, but it all fell short at Chat’s shout. 

“My Lady! Look out!” 

The building right in front of her, mere feet away, exploded suddenly, the only clue being Bomb Voyage’s finger point. 

There was no time to run. No time for Chat to scoop her up. Only impending destruction and carnage. 

So Chat leapt, his arms wrapping around her head, and tackled her to the ground as the rubble rained down. 

It felt like ages of pain before things settled. They both coughed out lungfuls of plaster dust that still hung in the air. It was mostly dark, with a scant bit of light from above. 

Chat was squished, but he pushed up on his arms and felt Ladybug move slightly. 

“My Lady?” He asked. “Are you alright?”

“My leg hurts. I may have sprained my ankle. How are you?” 

“I took a brunt force to the back when the building collapsed. It hurts, but...I can’t really feel my legs.” 

“Chat...” 

“Though, that could just be bad circulation. I’m in an awkward position.” 

Ladybug’s earrings chirped. 

“Crap,” she muttered. “I used my lucky charm. Do you think you can cataclysm your way out of here?” 

He twisted his neck in an effort to look around, though the dust of the rubble was still thick. He looked towards the light source above them, able to see where it was coming from, but it looked several feet away. “Negative, my lady. I think we might need some outside help for this one.” 

She bit her lip nervously. “I don’t hear anymore explosions.” 

“That’s good. Right? Maybe Hawkmoth thinks we got crushed and stopped his akuma.” 

“Yeah, that’s great…unless he’s got someone waiting to take our Miraculous’ off our corpses when we’re dug out of here.” 

“Ever the optimist, hmm?” 

“It’s my talent,” she smirked. Her earrings beeped again and she turned her ear toward Chat. “How much time do I have left?”

“Looks like two minutes.” 

“Great…”

“I can close my eyes.” He offered. They were basically nose to nose, and her hands where trapped below his arms, so she couldn’t reach up at all. 

“I…I don’t know…”

He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know?”

“We need to find a way out of here,” she switched topics. “Or find a way to contact emergency services to get us out.” 

“My baton is still on my back, if you can reach it.” 

Ladybug groped around blindly, feeling for the staff. 

“That’s my butt.” 

“Oh, sorry.” She blushed, and then moved her hand up. Once she found it, she held it out to her side as she could see the screen. “I’m about to detransform, but I have a cookie for Tikki in my purse. As long as it’s still there, she should be able to recharge before they bust us out of here.” 

“I didn’t even think about that,” Chat winced. 

Ladybug dialed the number. 

“112, what’s your emergency?” 

“Hello, this is Ladybug and Chat Noir. We’re in a bit of a pickle.” 

“How can we help, Ladybug?” 

“A building collapsed on us, and we’re pinned and can’t get out. We’re on Rue de Lappe, not far from Bastille.” 

“I’ve got your location on my map. I’m sending the fire department your way.” 

“Is there any sign of the Akuma?” 

“We’ve gotten similar calls about being trapped, but they stopped coming in a few minutes ago.” 

“Thank you. I’m going to extend Chat’s Baton out through the rubble so they can find us.” 

“Alright, I will pass that information along. Good luck, Ladybug!” 

“Thank you!” Carefully, Ladybug aimed the Baton towards the little hole to the surface, and extended the staff, the top breaking through the topside. 

“And now...we wait.” Her earrings beeped again. 

“So...you don’t want me to close my eyes?” Chat asked for clarification.

“I’ve been thinking...if I’m the guardian, and something happens to Plagg, like he gets sick or something, you need to be able to find me out of the suit, you know? It’s just you and me...” 

“Does that mean you want to know my identity?” 

She grimaced. “I should but—“ 

In a flash of pink, Marinette remained, looking sheepishly at him. “...I need a little time to come to terms with this.” 

His eyes were impossibly wide, staring at her, drinking her in in the scant light. “Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” 

“Howdy?” She squeaked. 

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Chat?” She asked, fearfully. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. He opened his eyes again, and his lip wobbled. “I just—I’m trying really hard not to cry.” Despite this, a tear fell from his eye and landed on her cheek. 

She tried not to cry herself. “Are you that upset?” She whispered. 

“Upset?! No! How could I ever—Marinette, I’m thrilled beyond belief! If it was anyone else—“ he clenched his eyes shut again, as more tears started to fall. “I admire you, and trust you, and respect you more than anyone else.”

“Chat...”

He smiled tenderly. “You know, I had hunches. I was almost completely certain until Kwamibuster, too!” 

That made her wince again. “Oh Chat, you know I didn’t mean to lie to you...” 

“I know, I know, at the time, it was too risky.” He continued to smile, his tears subsiding. “I know this isn’t ideal, but I’m glad I get to see you now.” 

“Kinda makes Evillustrator funny, huh?” 

He laughed. “You’re right! I forgot about that! Hey! You called yourself cute!” 

“I am cute!” She pouted. 

“You are cute,” he agreed, taking her in. “I’ve stared at your face a lot, but you look so so different without the mask.” 

“It’s the glamour,” she elaborated. “That extra bit of magic that makes it hard to connect the dots.”

“I know how it works,” he smirked. 

“Right...sorry, this is just...weird.” 

“Good weird?” 

“I feel naked.” 

“You just say the word, and I’ll get naked with you.” 

She threw him an unamused look. “Don’t be gross.” 

“Sorry, I can’t help cracking jokes around you. Although, I’m sure you were wishing I was secret mystery boy right now instead, right?” He waggled his eyebrows in an attempt to hide his heartache. “So who is it? It’s Luka, right?” 

It was like she had her mask on again, cheeks red as a tomato. “No...it’s not Luka.” 

“Oh...aren’t you guys dating?” 

“Not anymore. We did, for like a week. If you could even call it dating. He just came over to my house during my downtime, and played his guitar while I worked on commissions and stuff. It was nice and all...but I prefer the piano.” She looked away. 

“Piano, hmm?” He smirked. “You know, I’m an excellent piano player...and the real mystery guy is too?” 

“You can’t laugh.” 

“I would never.” 

“I doubt that,” she said flatly. 

“I promise, I know you don’t like people shallowly. So whoever it is, I know it’s genuine.” He smiled softly, encouragingly. 

Marinette screwed up her lips and admitted, begrudgingly. “Fine. It’s Adrien. Adrien Agreste.” 

The sound that Chat let out was not a laugh. But it wasn’t a great sign. It was like a wheeze, but a gurgle. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I just...” he blinked several times, trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream. Ladybug was Marinette! And she had a crush on him! “I...am surprised, is all. I didn’t know you were...close?” 

“I sit behind him in class. He’s one of my best friends. Our best friends are dating, so sometimes we end up being third wheels together?” 

“Oh. And this is the same guy as before?” 

“It’s always been Adrien.” 

Chat hoped she couldn’t hear the pounding in his chest. “Oh...even when Glaciator hit? When I found you sad on your balcony?” 

“Yep. He was supposed to meet us for ice cream, and he didn’t show...I kind of told Andre that love was bogus, and that’s why he got akumatized.” 

Chat laughed at that. “Aww, it’s okay, Marinette. I’m sure he had a good reason for not showing up...” 

“I’m used to it,” she said dully. “His father is a huge pain in the ass. I used to respect him, but now...he’s a jerk. He constantly holds Adrien’s freedom ransom to make him do stuff. It kills me! You know when I was in New York?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I had to beg his father to let him go. It was a class trip, and he was the only one not allowed to go! Just because his father is so concerned with his safety.” 

“Can you blame the man? We’re currently trapped under a pile of rumble.” 

“But as soon as I’m out, I’ll lucky charm and cure everything! Poof! Sprained ankle gone! Whatever’s wrong with you, gone!” 

“What do you think your parents would do if they found out you were Ladybug?” 

Marinette thought for a moment, and answered honestly. “Probably be sort of angry, and worried. But I think they would understand. They respect us a lot, even after my dad got akumatized.” 

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned.

“What about your parents?” She asked. 

“My mom would have been excited. I think. Worried too, but excited for me. But my father...well, he’d rip off my miraculous and make sure I never saw the light of day again.” 

“That bad, hm?” 

“I’m not exaggerating. I’m in the same boat as Adrien, extremely sheltered.” 

“I’m sorry,” she smiled softly. “I didn’t know.” 

“I didn’t really want you to know. Chat Noir is supposed to be my safe place, my wild and crazy side. I’m afraid if I start talking about home, I’ll admit things that civilian me doesn’t want to.” He exhaled, his chest bumping with hers. “God, it is just so easy to talk to you. Now more than ever.” 

“Really? You know me that well?”

“I know enough. And maybe it’s just because I’ve got you pinned and you can’t go anywhere.” 

She laughed at that. “Well, we’ll probably be here for a while. And...I still want you to hide your identity for a while, but if you want to talk about your life a little more, that’s fine.”

“You sure?” 

“Yes. It really is time for us to know who each other are, I’m just...not ready.” She huffed, and his bangs fluttered. “This was unavoidable, but let’s plan for your reveal, so I can be emotionally prepared.” 

“You won’t be. You will cry.”

“You say that with an awful lot of certainty.” 

“Trust me, when you behold me in all of my unmasked glory, you’ll cry.” 

“Alright. Can’t wait to prove you wrong.” 

He smirked. 

“Chat? Are you shivering?”

“Uh…yeah, kinda.” 

“Are you cold?”

“Not…not exactly. I’m holding up a lot of rumble so it doesn’t crush you…and I’m pretty claustrophobic.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier!?”

He laughed, but it lacked any mirth and was filled with quiet panic. “Uh, just…you know…trying to stay calm.”

“What can I do to help?”

He exhaled shakily. “I don’t know, but talking about it isn’t helping.” 

“Okay, well, why don’t you keep eye contact with me, and…let’s just talk.”

“About what?”

“I know you’ve got a whole list of questions you’ve been dying to ask me. Now’s your chance.”

“Damn it!” He nearly shouted. “I had a whole notebook full of questions I wanted to ask you, but it’s at my house!”

“Well, you know where I live, so you can ask me some other time if you want.”

“Deal!” He screwed up his lips. “But first, since you mentioned it, Weredad.” 

“Oh god…”

“Why did you say you were in love with me?” 

She winced. “To be quite honest, I thought you were going to find out who I was…and the poor excuse just flew out of me before I could think through the consequences. I didn’t think my dad would overhear anything, and I didn’t think you’d show up for brunch.” 

“You didn’t think I’d show up? Me? The biggest gentleman in Paris?”

“Okay fine, I hoped you wouldn’t show up.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Now that I’m thinking about it, there’s a lot of shenanigans that could have been prevented if—hold the phone, how did you do Multimouse?!” 

“Fox miraculous,” she shrugged. 

“The Fox! Of course!” 

She laughed, his reaction calming her nerves. “I understand what you mean now, it’s easy to talk to you. It’s always easy, but I didn’t notice until you said it.” 

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You don’t always feel that way.”

“I mean, I get frustrated with your jokes when I’m trying to be serious, but that doesn’t mean—“ 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Oh?”

He swallowed thickly. “Civilian me…you…you have a hard time…” He trailed off, not looking at her face. 

“Chat?”

“Did you ever tell Adrien? That you…you know?”

She tilted her head at the sudden topic change. “Uh…no. I tried, but it was never meant to be. Every time I did, something would go catastrophically wrong.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like...I gave him this scarf, right? For his birthday. And I forgot to sign it initially, so I snuck into his house and left a sticky note on it. Somehow, it still managed to go wrong, and he thought it was from his dad.” 

Chat stared at her, wide eyed. “And you never told him?” 

“No, he was happy believing that it was from his dad. His happiness is all I want.” 

It was hard to describe the look on Chat’s face. Almost pained, but still full of love. Like seeing something so precious it brings you to tears. “You did that for him? You really love him that much?”

She looked away, “Unfortunately.” 

“Why unfortunately? Is he a jerk?”

“No, not at all. I just…I know he doesn’t love me back. ‘Oh Marinette, you’re such a great friend.’ ‘I’m so glad I have a friend like you.’ ‘Please stay my friend forever!’” She shook her head. “That boy has me firmly friend-zoned.” 

He winced, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that. He probably really really likes you, and just wants you to know how much he appreciates your friendship.” 

“And that’s another reason I can’t confess. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” She groaned. “I sound so pathetic! It’s so stupid.” She shook her head. “I wish I had your bravery.” 

“My bravery isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s gotten me hurt pretty badly, after all.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he smiled at her softly. “You feel how you feel, and I just hurt myself.” He gnawed at his lip. “Actually…can I ask a really dumb question?”

“I don’t see why not.” 

“You don’t have to answer it…actually, no. I shouldn’t ask at all. Nevermind.”

“Well now you have to ask,” she chuckled. “I’m curious.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, but don’t hate me.” 

She nodded him on.

“Why…why did you go out with Luka if you knew I loved you? Do you also like Luka? Or…are you just that…repulsed by me?”

Marinette’s mouth fell open in quiet shock, and she inhaled some dust. She turned so she wouldn’t cough in his face at least. 

“Sorry,” he tried to sooth. “I told you it was stupid. You can date whoever you want…” 

She cleared her throat, and then wheezed out. “You just wanted it to be you.”

“…yeah…”

“Chat,” she leaned up to tap her nose against his. “To say I have absolutely no feelings for you would be a lie.” 

He looked hopeful. “Really?”

“They’re still developing. But I noticed thoughts I have about you sometimes. Missing you, thinking you’re cute…but Luka was the safer option at the time. I was trying desperately to get over Adrien. Luka and I weren’t really friends first, so if it didn’t work out, it wasn’t a big loss. But with you…” She looked into his eyes, an insurmountable amount of pain and unsaid words just beyond his reach. “I could lose everything.” 

“You won’t lose me, My Lady.” He said softly. 

“Oh kitty,” she moaned. “I…I never want to lie to you…but there’s something that I haven’t told you. Something I should have a long time ago. I just…don’t like thinking about it.” 

“What is it?”

“Chat Blanc.” 

At her hesitation, he prodded her on. “What’s a Chat Blanc?”

Her whole face tightened, lips curling into a thin line, eyes squinted hard, and brow furrowed. “It’s…he’s your akumatized self.” 

“What?” He breathed. “But I’ve never been akumatized.”

“No, not anymore. You see…Bunnyx helped with it. Somehow, the event of me signing a gift to Adrien triggered a series of events that got you akumatized. I don’t know what the correlation was, but…you knew my name, and you said our love destroyed the world.” 

“The world?”

“I hate thinking about it,” she winced again. “The whole of Paris flooded, the Eiffel tower knocked on it’s side, the moon exploded. Everyone, including me and Hawkmoth, turned to dust. You cried when you saw me. You asked me to save you, but you also wanted my earrings, wanting to fix everything yourself. So we fought.” 

“I assume you won, if you’re here.” 

“Yeah...the Akuma was in your bell. Your all white bell, on your white suit, with your white hair and blue eyes...” she shuttered. “I still see you like that in my nightmares.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” 

“I didn’t want to mention it. I didn’t want to worry you, and I didn’t want to remember. I knew I should have told you sooner, though. I’m sorry.” 

“...I understand.” He swallowed and exhaled in a whoosh, all the debris above them shifting. He moaned, ending with a hiss. 

“Chat?”

“Sorry, I moved and realized that I’m a little more hurt than I thought.” 

“What’s ‘a little more hurt’?” 

“Uh…I think I’m…I’ve been impaled?”

“What!?”

“It’s not that bad, the suit took most of the pain. I just…am having a little hard time breathing, and I thought it was from my claustrophobia, but I think something is lodged in me.” 

Very carefully, Marinette reached up and felt along his back. A lot of debris was laying flush to his suit, but as she moved her hand around, she noticed he felt wet and sticky. 

“Yeah, I think you’re bleeding, kitty.” She said so sadly. She touched where the wound was and he cried out in pain. It was his lower back, by his spine. 

“I’m sorry!” She pulled her hand away. 

“S’kay,” he hissed out. “God damn, that hurt.” 

“I promise, as soon as we get out of here, I’ll magic you right as rain. Just...just hold on, kitty.” 

He opened an eye to look at her, still fond through his pain. “Are you panicking?” 

“Yes! I was worried when the building collapsed, but now I’m on the verge of pure panic!” 

“I must admit, this is not how I expected today to go.” He breathed slowly, the pain subsiding when he held still. “Actually, I didn’t imagine this happening when I found out who you are. You being Marinette is like…the cherry on top of a diarrhea sundae.” 

“Do you like cherries?” 

“I love cherries.” He whispered. “I got grounded today.” 

“Oh.” 

“I was having lunch with my father, a rare treat. My friend texted me and I answered without thinking. My father became upset that I would do something so ‘rude’. He said if my friends were more important than him, then he shouldn’t bother eating with me. Then he took my phone.” 

“That’s the kind of assholery that I’ve come to expect from Adrien’s dad. You’re in that boat too?” 

“Unfortunately, yes. Come to think of it…he’s probably the reason I got akumatized in that other timeline.” 

“You think so?” 

“It’s a hunch. I don’t often get upset about things, but when I do, it’s usually because of him.” He sighed, ending with a wince. “That’s something I haven’t admitted to myself until now.” 

“Kitty...” 

“I didn’t mean to bring that up...” 

“It’s okay. I’m glad you did. I want to be able to support you where you need it.” She could see that he was spiraling into depression, and quickly sought to remedy that. “What was your daydream like? When you would find out who I was?” 

A twitch of a smile took his face. “I knew I would spend a long time staring at you, memorizing what you look like without the mask.” He took a shaky breath. “And I thought, when we decided to share our identities, it would be because you finally fell for me. So there was a kiss. And a lot of roses. It was sappy...but it made me happy to think about it.” 

“Can I ask...what it is that you love so much about me? In case you don’t know, there’s a lot of differences between Marinette and Ladybug.” 

“I know,” he smiled. “But there’s plenty of similarities. Your strength, for example.” 

She laughed. “Chat, Ladybug can throw you across the city. But Marinette couldn’t even lift you.” 

“I bet you could! We should test it later! But I meant your strength of heart.”

“You sound like an anime character.” 

“Well, it’s important to me.” He blushed. “You aren’t wishy-washy. You don’t cater to the voices around you. You do what’s right. You want justice. Even when akumas and civilians tell us to go or step down, you get up and fight.”

“I do that?”

“Yes. The day you stood up to Hawkmoth, and you promised Paris that you would fight for them until the end? That moment, I said, ‘no matter who that girl is, I love her.’ And even now, it hasn’t stopped. I may even love you more.” 

“Chat…” She sniffed. “I…I care about you so much. And I know that if Adrien wasn’t in view, I’d fall for you hard and fast. But I can’t.” 

“I know, Marinette. Just knowing…that maybe someday…”

“All the more reason to get rid of Hawkmoth, right?” 

He nodded, a tear slipping from his eye and landing on her cheek. “Today sucks.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s really not your fault. And I’d much prefer that you were here, under me, than being alone. I’m handling my claustrophobia a lot better because of it.”

“I’d much rather be under you too.” 

He gave her a smile, and then snorted with a little blush. “Oh my lady…”

“I thought we were being mature.”

“Me? Mature? Come on.”

“Yeah, I should have known better.” 

“You’re beautiful too,” he added. “I’ve always thought so. As Ladybug and Marinette. I saw you with your hair down once, and it’s haunted me ever since.” 

“You saw me with my hair down?” She questioned, trying to ignore the hot blush on her cheeks. 

“Yeah, it looked really nice on you. I know it’s not practical for crime fighting, but…” 

“Maybe for a patrol,” she offered. “When things are calm.”

A smile graced his face as he sighed deeply. 

The pile above them shifted, and Chat let out a cry of pain. 

“Kitty?”

“This sucks!” He moaned, leaning his forehead down to her face. “Sorry, whatever is in me moved, and I really felt it.”

“Please don’t apologize, Chat. If anything, I should apologize, you took the hit for me!” 

“My Lady…you didn’t do anything wrong. If I can help it, I will never let you get hurt.” 

She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. “It breaks my heart that you would do that. I don’t want you to be a meat shield, I want you to be my partner.” 

“You said it yourself. Once we’re out of here, you’ll do Miraculous Cure and set me right. So I’ll take the hits if I have to.” He sucked in a harsh breath. “Even if it hurts like a bitch.” 

With her hands trapped at her sides, she couldn’t reach up and wipe his tears away. So she opted for the next best thing. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for protecting me. I know you’re going to say it’s your job, but I really do appreciate how much you look out for me.”

“I love you, Marinette. Of course I’m going to protect you.” 

She shook her head slightly. “How can you just say that so casually?” 

“Why bother hiding it? You know already. I’m not going to bottle it up.” 

“I just…wish I could do that. With Adrien. I wish I could walk right up to him and say, ‘I love you, you magnificent human being’ and crush my lips to his perfect face.” 

Chat hid his blushing face in her shoulder. “You should. I bet you’d make his day.” 

“Yeah, or he’d freak out, and sue me for sexual harassment, and then I’ll be the laughing stock of the school, no, all of Paris! The whole world, maybe!”

“Do you often catastrophize?” He chuckled. “I’ve heard you do it before.” 

“Usually only with Adrien. I just…don’t want to mess things up.” 

“I don’t think you will. I know Adrien. He’s a nice boy. He won’t turn you down.” 

“You can’t possibly know that.” 

“Call me a psychic.” 

She scoffed. “Whatever.” Then she shook her head. “Whether or not you’re confident he won’t reject me…I don’t think I’ll ever tell him. I’ve tried to get over him, but I just look at him and melt all over again. I’m sorry Chat.”

He was quiet, his face resting next to her head, cheek against her ear. After a moment of contemplation, he asked, “hey, you like pink, right?”

“Oh? Uh, yeah.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. A dozen pink roses, maybe some red and white in there too for flavor.” 

“You’re doing what tomorrow?”

“I’m going to reveal my identity tomorrow.”

“After all that? What about Adrien?”

“Don’t worry about him right now. I’ve been thinking. If you and I know who each other are, in a crisis, we’d be able to communicate better.” 

“What do you mean? What kind of crisis?”

“I’m just trying to imagine what happened with my akuma. If there was a problem with my father or miscommunication, we could better solve it without identities in the way.” 

“Okay, yes…” she considered. “But please don’t get your hopes up, okay? I would love to spend time with you out of the suit, but I won’t fall for you instantly.” 

“I suppose you’re right. After all, how can I compare to the amazingly handsome Adrien Agreste? Well, he won’t be a problem for much longer.” 

She frowned. “You say that like you’re going to kill him.”

He laughed. “No no, Bugaboo,” he said fondly. “Look, everything will make sense tomorrow, I promise…as long as I don’t bleed out down here first.” 

“You’re acting really jovial for someone with a mortal flesh wound.” 

“Tis a scratch.” He breathed a shuddering breath. “Or so I hope.” 

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!” A male voice called from up above. 

“Ugh, finally,” Marinette muttered to herself. “We’re down here!” She called. 

“We’ll get you out as soon as we can! Any injuries?” 

“Chat has a…bit of a scrape.” 

“An ambulance is on the way!” 

Marinette didn’t want to tell him it didn’t matter. Once she did the cure, he’d be right as rain. 

Right?

“Marinette,” Tikki piped up. “I’m all set, whenever you are.” 

“Alright. Tikki, Spots on!”

The pink flash only helped the first responders locate them quicker. 

“There’s the baton!” His voice sounded closer. The light above was distorted by a rain of plaster, before it was replaced by flashlight light. “Hello?”

“We’re down here!” Ladybug called, moving her arm under Chat. 

“Can either of you move?”

“Chat’s pinned, but I might be able to wiggle out, with some help.”

“We’ll get a sling. We might be able to pull you up and out.”

“Once I get my arms free, I should be able to cast the cure and set everything right.” 

“Great plan, Ladybug! We’ll have you out in a minute.”

Ladybug nudged Chat’s nose with her own. “I’ll cast it as soon as I’m free. Can you hold out that long?”

“I’ll have a dozen pink roses. And I’ll wear something nice, like a sweater. Or maybe a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I heard the ladies love that.” 

“Chat?”

“I’m trying to focus on something else instead of being trapped.” He explained. “Sorry, I might not be very useful for the next few minutes.”

“Okay,” she kissed his cheek. “You do what you have to.” 

The fire department lowered a strap attached to a chain into the hole. “If you can maneuver that under your arms, we can pull you out.”

Using Chat’s Baton, Ladybug was able to pull the strap closer. Very slowly and carefully, she wriggled it under her armpits, careful not to jostle Chat in the process. 

“Jewelry could be fun. I know she doesn’t like it when I’m extravagant, but surely she would cherish it if I gave her a ring.” He had his eyes shut tight, his brow furrowed. 

Ladybug gave Chat a pitiful look. 

“Alright, I’m ready!” Ladybug called to the rescue crew. 

She was pulled out from under Chat. Though, she had been supporting his lower half, and he sank to the ground as she slid away from him. This jostled the debris violently, and he cried out in horrible, agonizing pain. It was the worst sound she had ever heard. 

“Chat!” 

He kept howling, sounding like he was being ripped apart from the inside out. 

Ladybug pushed on the piles around her, hurrying to get free. 

The moment she broke the surface, she called for her Lucky Charm. 

It was a rose, and she teary-eyed through it up into the air, and called for the cure. 

The explosion of Ladybug’s surrounded her, mending her ankle and silencing Chat’s cries. 

She touched down on solid, undisturbed concrete, and turned to find Chat face down on the ground. 

“Kitty!” She cried, voice cracking as she rushed to him. 

He pushed up on one arm. “I’m okay, My Lady. Just a little winded.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He stood slowly and stretched. “Yeah. All cured.” 

She hugged him. Tight and sure, maybe squeezing a little harder than she should. 

“Bug, I can’t breathe.” He chuckled. 

“Sorry, I just...”

He hugged her back. “I’m never going to turn down a hug though.” 

Her earrings beeped. 

“Are you both alright?” Asked the EMT on the scene. 

“We’re all better,” Chat assured. “Thank you for your help!” He gathered Ladybug close to him and put an arm around her waist. “We gotta go though!” 

Ladybug only had a second to realize what he was doing, before she was lifted off her feet and into the air. 

“I can travel myself, you know. I still have time.” 

“Sure,” he shrugged. 

He carried her all the way to her balcony, before setting her down. Her transformation ran out just as they landed. 

“Thanks for the lift, Kitty.” She scratched under his chin. But as she looked in his eyes, she saw tears. “Chat?” 

He sniffled and hugged her again. “Just...a sucky day. I wanted to hug you in privacy. I know how you get when people assume things about us.”

“Well, it’s different when you’re getting handsy and when you need comfort from a traumatic experience.” 

“I never get handsy,” he argued. “I just like to be close. I’m touch starved.” 

“Well, from what you told me today, I believe you.”

He laughed mirthlessly, and pulled away. “I really do feel better now.” He reached up and cupped her face, letting his thumb trail across the apple of her cheek. “No matter how bad this day was, it will never taint the absolute elation of finally seeing you.” 

“Chat...” she blushed. 

“I must be the luckiest man on Earth. Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Ladybug, all rolled into one. I can’t believe it.” 

“Two transformations and you still don’t believe me?” 

He smiled. “My brain believes, but my heart never gets so optimistic.” He cast his gaze away. “Even if you...change your mind...” he mused. 

“About what?” 

“Nothing. Never mind. I’ll just...see you tomorrow. With a dozen pink roses.” 

“I’ll get a vase ready.” 

He reluctantly pulled away, like tearing himself from her was physically painful. He hopped up on the railing of her balcony, and with a little salute, he hopped into the night. 

“I’m proud of you, Marinette.” Said Tikki. “It had to be hard being that honest with him. 

“I didn’t really have a choice. I can’t imagine how much worse that experience would have been for him with his eyes closed the whole time.” 

“It’s over now. And tomorrow, you’ll know who he is too!” 

Marinette whined. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that...” 

“It’s a little late for that. What? Are you going to run at the first sight of flowers?” 

“I might.” 

“It’ll be fine. Marinette, I know who Chat is. And I promise, it’ll all work out fine. Great even. Just, take a shower, and go to bed. Then you can wake up early and mentally prepare yourself.” 

Marinette chuckled as she dropped back down into her room. “What would I do without you as a life coach?”

“Sleep through most classes.” 

“It was a rhetorical question.” 

—

In the morning, with the extra sleep Tikki had urged her to get, Marinette rose and dressed. 

Then the nerves turned on. 

“What if I just fake sick?” 

“Don’t you dare! You’d hurt his feelings!” 

“You’re right...but I really do feel like I might throw up.” 

“Just relax. You’re going to love this.” 

“If you say so...” 

After breakfast, Marinette wandered over to school leisurely. Tikki would say she was stalling, but Marinette would disagree and state she was simply taking advantage of being early. 

At the front steps, students were gathered. No roses. In the courtyard, teens milled about. No roses. In the locker room, her locker was devoid of anything that wasn’t supposed to be in there. 

“Well well well,” said Alya, with too much bravado. “Lookie who’s early!” 

“Yuck it up. I was tired and went to bed early last night.” 

“You sure you aren’t eager to see Adrien today? He looks pretty cute in that button up.” 

In all the confusion surrounding Chat, Marinette had honestly forgotten about Adrien. Her. Forget about Adrien. Perish the thought. 

“I mean...it would be a bonus.” She muttered. 

“Well, he’s up in the classroom. If you were wondering.” 

She wasn’t. Or hadn’t been, until now. But it seemed that Chat wasn’t ready to reveal himself yet, and Marinette still had time to prepare. 

She ascended the steps and headed to the classroom. 

What she wasn’t expecting, was seeing Adrien standing there, sunlight filtering through the window to make a halo in his hair. He wore a black button up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and had a dozen pink roses in his hands as he talked to Nino. 

Dare she hope? Dare she dream?

She just stood in the doorway, staring, before he noticed her. 

“Good morning, Marinette.” He smiled at her, looking warm and inviting and…nervous?

“Goo-goo-good morning, Adrien.” She stumbled. She glanced down to the flowers, then up to his face. “Um…those don’t happen to be for me, do they?”

With a twinkle in his eye, he smirked. “Why? Just because something is pink, you think it’s for you?”

She deflated. “Haha, right…that was really forward of me.”

With a pleasant hum, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I’m just messing with you, My Lady. These are for you.” He placed the bouquet in her shell-shocked hands. 

“My...?” She breathed. The word was just a whisper, barely heard by even him. 

His smile was broad and gleeful, squinting his eyes and coloring his cheeks. “Mmm-hmm!!” He hummed eagerly as he nodded. 

Marinette had to shut her eyes as a sound like a laugh and a sob burst from her lips. Tears started immediately, and there was no way to stop it. 

“I told you you would cry,” he teased. 

“You jerk!” She blubbered. Then she tossed the flowers at a confused Nino before throwing her arms around Adrien, and sobbing into his shoulder. “I love you, Kitty.” 

He squeezed her back. “Do you really? Because I’m getting mixed signals.” 

“You’re awful. You’re wonderful. I’m a mixed bag of emotions. Just hold me.” 

“Can do!”

As other students came in, seeing the couple embraced, they gave them thumbs up and congratulatory back pats. 

And then Lila entered. 

She halted, hid her sneer, and said, “oh no! Marinette! What’s wrong? Why are you crying on Adrien like that?” 

He patted Marinette’s hair. “Happy tears, no worries.” 

Marinette refused to let Lila ruin this moment. It was far too perfect. Adrien was far too perfect, the flowers, her kitty...

Mustering all her strength, she hooked her arms under his, turned and spun his into a dip. 

“My lady?” He breathed, in awe. 

“You’re the love of my life. I should have kissed you yesterday. I definitely wanted to.” 

“You did?” He smiled drunkenly. 

“Yes, like this.” And she slammed her lips to his, kissing him just like she had in her dreams. 

Adrien let out a contented little mewl as he tangled his fingers in her hair. 

The class went wild with roars and cheers. 

Before she could drop him, Marinette righted Adrien. “Sorry, I just...wanted to do that for a while now.”

Adrien nuzzled her cheek with his nose. “Oh don’t worry, Bugaboo. You can smooch me whenever.” 

Nino made a gagging sound. 

“Oh, well I’m very happy for you guys,” Lila feigned a smile. “But Adrien, are you sure your father will be okay with this?” 

Chloe, who had known this was coming since she saw the roses, stood and stalked over. “Okay, you’re done. Bye!” 

“Chloe, I’m just trying to be rational...” 

“And Adrien is the most deserving person for a happy ending...even if it’s with Dupain-Cheng.” She cast Marinette a glance and rolled her eyes. Then she looked back at Lila. “Though, he could do worse.” 

This made Marinette and Adrien giggle. 

Lila scoffed. “Fine! Make me the bad guy! But don’t come crying to me when Gabriel tells you to break it off!” 

Adrien whispered in his new girlfriend’s ear. “Even if my father makes Adrien and Marinette break up, Ladybug and Chat Noir follow their own rules. It might not be the most fun, but we’ll make it. Then, once I’m 18, I’ll propose.” 

Marinette laughed, kissing him swiftly. “Oh my sweet kitty. Let’s take it slow for a little while. We have the rest of our lives to be that insufferable couple.” 

Alya, who had come in not that long after Marinette but stood quietly in the door, finally spoke up. “Adrien, I couldn’t bear to tear you away from your Princess. So I’ll take your seat.” 

Adrien just grinned in gratitude and hugged Marinette. “This makes that building collapse yesterday totally worth it.” 

“Does that mean...you had a crush on me?” She teased.

“No, my Lady, I fell for you.”

[angeltreasure]

Hello Sister, I'm the anon who keeps asking if you could pray for my education. Something unfortunate happened that made me miss my exam, but it was due to me being lazy and not double checking. I don't know if they will allow me to redo it. I am going to enter my second semester, I want feel motivated to study. I have been feeling numb for years, and it's been months since I prayed to God. I don't know how to go back to Him. I wish I had a Catholic or Christian friends so we can talk about this. I just feel lost, numb, and apathetic. If you can dear Sister, please pray for me. I want to be good and righteous. If God gave you message in my prayer request, can you please tell me what it is. I desperately need the Holy Spirit in my deeply sinful life. Thank you for listening Sister, God bless you

--Sister M

Hi Sister M,

I will pray for you! I can tell you that no matter what happens, no matter how much you fail in life or sin, God isn’t going to abandon you and stop loving you. He’s not hiding in a secret place until you get your life in order. God is with you, always. As like the Prodigal Son, God waits until you turn to Him so He can spread His loving arms out to bring you home. You don’t need to be perfect in order to go back to Him. A simple prayer is all you need to start. Speak to Him as you would a dear friend. He loves you more than you can ever imagine and He waits so patiently for you. If you are Catholic, remember the Sacrament of confession is always there for you and is a great blessing.

I suggest as a student, to keep a picture of the Holy Family with you. It can be a bookmark or even your phone lock screen, or a little picture to carry around in your wallet. Whenever you feel tempted to sin, take the picture out. To flood our human senses with holy things can help us out of temptation.

Other examples to “flood the senses” are, listening to soft Gregorian chant with your headphones, taste the consecrated Eucharist and wine at Mass, read one verse from the Bible, smell beautiful incense or a scented candle, touch beads of the Rosary or pages of your favorite Bible, read about the lives of the saints, and forms of prayer. The Mass is the highest form of prayer. The Rosary is a powerful prayer that has even converted a high Satanic priest; it helps focus our mind away from sin and onto the lives of Jesus with His mother, Mary. The Divine Mercy Chaplet kept the world from being destroyed by the wrath of an Angel. Blessed bells by Catholic priests have been excellent during exorcisms to expel demons because of their beauty and holy sounds. There is also Relevant Radio to listen to 24/7. EWTN is great for watching shows, masses, prayers.. highly recommend Mother Angelica Live if you’ve never seen it. Bishop Robert Barron with his Word On Fire is great to jump into on his website or binge watch on YouTube. Volunteering at your local church can be a great benefit for all.

Some teachers are kind enough for second chances, other ones are more strict. All you can do is ask. They may surprise you, offer you a different option, or make you learn the hard way. Pray for them, okay?

The Holy Spirit lives in you and He will help guide you. Your body is a temple for the Holy Spirit. Remember this. Take care of your body, especially going through the stresses of student life. Eat healthy, exercise, drink water, treat your body kindly with respect. What you carry is a special gift, even in your bad days.

For motivation, look to the saints. Each one lived a unique kind of life that they lived to get to Heaven. Some were students too. You may be able to find a favorite saint or two to model after. Don’t forget your guardian angel. They never leave your side and are waiting for you to pray to ask for their help. He can guide you too and help you, especially when friends are not available. You can be good and righteous.

“But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.”

- Isaiah 43:1