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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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The Quiet Room

- Chapter 6 - ao3 - (previous tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5)

The Lan sect’s rules said Learning comes first, and that was because learning was the root of all things.

Humans were changeable and ever-changing, molded by their heritage and their environment; it was through careful education that they learned to comprehend goodness – it was only through constant learning that they could keep themselves walking on the path of righteousness.

Learning from books, learning from others, learning from one’s own mistakes; it didn’t matter.

What was important was that you couldn’t stop learning.

You had to keep moving forward.

Lan Wangji had for some time entertained the thought that his life had stopped when Wei Wuxian’s had. It had felt as though it had: it felt as if his heart had been irrevocably shattered, like a priceless vase that had once contained all his tender feelings – all those feelings that, lacking their container, would now slip through his fingers forever, leaving him as empty as a soulless puppet. He’d thought he was doomed never to love again, never to learn again, all his mind consumed with nothing by memories.

He’d been wrong, of course.

Even with Wei Wuxian gone, he was still learning.

There were his recent meditations on the subject of silence and noise, for one.

There were his wards, for another.

Lan Sizhui was a polite and thoughtful child, inquisitive but a little shy and hesitant, a little fearful to assert himself – a little too quiet, in a way that Lan Wangji was starting to be able to recognize as being not good, a silence and reticence born of concern and anxiety rather than genuine introversion. Luckily, there was also Lan Jingyi, who was and had always been the liveliest and most spirited of children, and yet he, too, was just a little bit too loud in a way that reflected his own method of displaying anxiety, another startling realization that was brand new.

Lan Wangji had always associated quiet with reserve and self-control, noise with carelessness and recklessness, but being in the controlled chaos of Qinghe and really sincerely listening to it, accepting it, came with its own set of revelations. He found that there were people who were naturally loud and those that made themselves be loud, just as there were those who were quiet and those who were forced into quietude. Lan Jingyi worried just as much as the next person, but he displaced those feelings through distraction rather than through the force of his willpower, taking on the role of clown or hero as suited each moment, unafraid to cast himself in the role of aggressor if it would allow Lan Sizhui the chance to play the mediator. The subconscious division of roles allowed Lan Sizhui to feel useful and in control, reducing his anxiety, while Lan Jingyi got to feel taken care of, which reduced his own – it was good, in a way, but after some consideration Lan Wangji carefully took them both in hand and told them that they would need to be more thoughtful about it.

Lan Sizhui could not, should not, always have to be the peacemaker, always yielding and kind and gentle and quiet: he deserved to be loud, too. He deserved to be assertive, to be heard, to feel entitled to take up space regardless of his utility to those around him. He should never feel like he had to pay in service for the right to exist.

And by the same token, Lan Jingyi shouldn’t feel burdened to always have to be the one to take the first step, always acting as the driving force, the loud and opinionated one. He should have the opportunity, and the obligation, to think through what he was doing or saying, to be thoughtful and careful, to sometimes yield if he wished; he should be granted space of his own to make sure that his actions were what he wished them to be rather than some impulse.

Lan Wangji only wished he’d had the wisdom to tell Wei Wuxian the same thing while he’d been alive.

He’d been so short-sighted when he was younger, at first unable to recognize how he felt about the man and then unable to figure out how to speak with him – he’d been unable to break his own habitual silence, and equally unable to see the depths concealed in Wei Wuxian’s brash arrogance, especially towards the end. Like Lan Jingyi, Wei Wuxian’s reckless courage was genuine, especially in the happy days of their youth; like Lan Jingyi, when things got bad, Wei Wuxian had taken refuge in more of the same, building himself walls made of noise that were designed to keep everyone out.

Wei Wuxian might have been noisy and loud, right to the very end, but in his own way he’d been just as alone as Lan Wangji in his excess of quiet.

The next generation, Lan Wangji thought fiercely, would do better.

He felt comforted by that thought.

The children were chewing over Lan Wangji’s words as they walked along the outmost ramparts of the Unclean Realm, already inured to the glittering barrier that hung in their sky, full of arrays and inscriptions – they were accompanying Lan Wangji on his daily walk.

The Nie sect’s doctors had a very different regimen for curing illnesses than the Lan sect’s, he’d found. Thirty-three strikes of the discipline whip: in both places he’d gotten stitched back up, but while the Lan sect doctors had allowed him to retreat into seclusion, prescribing medicine and rest and self-reflection, the Nie sect doctors insisted on coupling medicine and meditation with exercise. Intermittent and gradual exercise, meant to increase flexibility and reduce muscle atrophy – it wasn’t really that different from what Lan Wangji had been left to do on his own back at home, but he found that it was easier to struggle against his stubborn body when he had company to encourage him to take that extra step beyond his limits, their voices pushing him when his own willpower was insufficient. Even the silent presence of the two children, walking beside him, helped him find the reason to keep going.

Truly, there was much to consider on the subject of quiet and noise, of loud and soft, of loneliness and isolation and how no amount of either introversion nor extroversion could alone save you from them.

Lan Wangji was still thinking it over when he heard a new noise.

It was also an old noise, painfully familiar from all those days of war – before he even consciously identified what the sound was, his back had straightened, his legs sinking into a prepared pose, his mind already summoning his spiritual energy to the forefront in case he needed to defend himself.

Cultivators, flying on swords at speed.

Lan Wangji looked up and saw them: men and women both, a small group – a forward scouting troop, small enough to be subtle and sneak ahead to see what was happening but large enough to ensure someone would be able to return to the main force and warn them if they did find something.

They were dressed in the colors of Yunmeng Jiang, and it was Jiang Cheng leading them.

Lan Wangji’s back stiffened.

He had not seen Jiang Cheng since the massacre at the Nightless City, although he’d heard the stories of how he had turned against his own shixiong and led the greatest of the forces that besieged the Burial Mounds. He’d decided then that he’d never wanted to see Jiang Cheng ever again – he hadn’t been able to comprehend how Jiang Cheng could do a thing like that to Wei Wuxian, who he’d loved.

He still didn’t understand, but he thought, perhaps, that he ought to be a little less hasty in judging others by his own standards.

He’d done enough of that.

“Hanguang-jun!” Jiang Cheng called, seeing him, and pulled ahead of all the other Jiang sect cultivators, leaving them hanging back warily. Lan Wangji turned to face him, conscious of the two young children still clinging to his hands and now half-hiding behind his robes – conscious, too, of the shimmering but translucent barrier that divided them from Jiang Cheng, the barrier that had been raised to protect the Unclean Realm from Lan Wangji’s own brother and all the mistakes he had made, well-meaning as they were. “Hanguang-jun, good, you can tell me, what is the meaning of…”

Jiang Cheng trailed off, his eyes suddenly wide and almost bulging from the force of how hard he was staring at Lan Wangji.

“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji said politely in greeting – or, well, politely enough.

“Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng said in return, his voice sounding strangled. “What…happened?”

Far too much to explain, so Lan Wangji didn’t, just waited for Jiang Cheng to continue with a more specific question.

“I mean, uh. The beacon went off,” Jiang Cheng said. He was still gawking, looking as though he were about to fall off his sword any second. “The – you know the one, the one that shows when a sect’s barrier defenses have been activated. I thought...”

He’d assumed there was an invasion, Lan Wangji realized, and had rushed over at once to try to help forestall it. It was a reasonable assumption, and a noble response: having once lost everything without being able to rely on the help of others, Jiang Cheng now sought to be the help that he had not had.

It was the sort of thing a righteous person would do, and in line with what Lan Wangji thought he’d known of Jiang Cheng’s character.

And yet…Jiang Cheng had still turned his back on Wei Wuxian.

Time and time again, he’d turned away fro him.

“I came to find out what happened, why they put up the shield,” Jiang Cheng continued. “I brought people with me to help, though I left them back a ways so it wouldn’t be an insult. And now I’m here and – and you’re here – and you’re…just…it’s…Lan Wangji, what happened to your forehead ribbon?”

Lan Wangji arched his eyebrows. “Is that your primary concern?”

Jiang Cheng waved his hands around, almost flailing, and Lan Wangji couldn’t quite help but feel a sudden stab of amusement – and then of sorrow, because the flailing was almost painfully familiar. He had seen Wei Wuxian do much the same when he encountered something unexpected, whether some threat or some new maneuver by the Wen sect or, in one notable instance, the unanticipated appearance of a fish in a place where one would not normally expect fish to be.

“I have taken a leave of absence from the Lan sect,” Lan Wangji finally explained, deciding to be magnanimous and take pity on his former comrade in arms. “The Nie sect has permitted me to remain with them while I determine my next course of action. As for the shield, there is no imminent invasion. The situation is – complicated.”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “You don’t say!”

Still, the explanation seemed to help steady him, somewhat, and Lan Wangji observed that Jiang Cheng did not look his best: tired, with circles under his eyes and an unhealthy skin tone. Too much work, too little rest, and probably nightmares…because of what had happened to Wei Wuxian, perhaps? But if so, why had he done it in the first place?

“I cannot let you in,” Lan Wangji added, even though technically he had one of the only remaining guest tokens that still functioned. Jiang Cheng nodded, seemingly having expected that. “I can escort you to the sect leader’s quarters to have your request for admission approved.”

That the person approving the request would probably be Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji did not say – not so much out of caution, which would probably be justified, but rather out of a completely inexplicable urge to see Jiang Cheng start flailing once again upon finding out.

Was this how Wei Wuxian felt all the time?

Interesting.

He began to walk again, the children at his sides slowly coming out, and Jiang Cheng did him the courtesy of not mentioning how slow and stiff he was, although Lan Wangji thought he remembered enough of Jiang Cheng’s mannerisms to interpret the twisted grimace on his face as he glanced over time and time again as a look of concern.

After a little while in which Lan Wangji walked and Jiang Cheng floated alongside him on his sword, the Jiang sect cultivators lagging behind by a respectable distance, the children getting over their fear to start looking around again, Jiang Cheng finally cleared his throat.

“There’s a medicinal blend of herbs that can counteract the anti-clotting effects of the discipline whip,” he said. Lan Wangji glanced at him: Jiang Cheng was staring forward, not looking at him at all any more. “It makes it heal faster. I can pass the prescription along to the Nie sect’s pharmacists, if you like.”

Jiang Cheng had also been struck by the discipline whip, Lan Wangji suddenly remembered. It had been a matter of deep embarrassment for him during the war, making him reluctant to remove clothing even when they were rancid with blood and poisonous fumes.

“Thank you,” he said, and for some reason the children took that as their cue that Jiang Cheng was actually all right and burst out in a flood of questions.

Lan Jingyi wanted to know how Jiang Cheng’s clothing had gotten to be such a vivid shade of purple, while Lan Sizhui was more curious about his sword and how shiny it was – the concerns of children, unburdened by the memories or concerns of adults. Their questions made Jiang Cheng smile, and Lan Wangji thought briefly of the orphaned Jin Ling, who had been temporarily given to Jiang Cheng’s custody to pick up some of the traditions of his maternal sect. A fancy way of saying that the Jin sect wanted him out of the way for a few years until he was worth teaching their own ways to, but Lan Wangji suspected Jiang Cheng would have taken any excuse at all to remain close to his kin.

“What, now children aren’t too noisy for you?” Jiang Cheng asked Lan Wangji, and for the first time it occurred to Lan Wangji that the tossed out words, broken off and abrupt, might be meant as a friendly tease.

“I am reevaluating my relationship with silence,” he said, and Jiang Cheng smirked, amused.

“I bet you are,” he said. “Nie Huaisang alone would drive a man to distraction…”

Lan Jingyi laughed and clapped and that, and, inspired, Lan Sizhui followed suit.

And then, suddenly, Jiang Cheng frowned.

“A-Yuan,” he said, and Lan Wangji was suddenly cold from head to toe, the chattering of the children suddenly too loud in his ears: he had forgotten that Jiang Cheng had also visited the Burial Mounds. “That’s – that’s A-Yuan, isn’t it?”

“Jiang Wanyin…” Lan Wangji started, his voice sticking in his throat, then trailed off. He did not know what he could say that would work to convince Jiang Cheng that he was wrong when he was right, but neither could he admit to the truth. Even if Nie Mingjue had been kind enough to allow Lan Wangji to come to the Nie sect to stay, and to bring the two children with him, that had been under the premise that they were Lan sect children. If he ever found out that Lan Sizhui had been born surnamed Wen…

Nie Mingjue would not hurt a child, he was too righteous for that. But he might not be inclined to let that child grow up in his sect, either.

Jiang Cheng’s face was twisted in a strange sort of way, as if he couldn’t decide to be angry or relieved. “I thought he’d died,” he murmured, more to himself. “I thought…what is that?”

Lan Wangji was momentarily confused by the question, focused as he was by the terrifying implications of Jiang Cheng’s discovery, but then he saw that Jiang Cheng’s gaze went further into the distance.

He turned to look, then felt twist of unpleasantness deep in his belly: there was his brother in the sky, flying to the main gate on Shuoyue, and beside him was Jin Guangyao.

Why did you have to bring him? Lan Wangji thought, unhappy, but he already knew the answer to that. His brother trusted Jin Guangyao. Why wouldn’t he bring him?

If only he would trust the rest of them as much as he trusted that liar.

“We can discuss Lan Sizhui later,” Lan Wangji said, careful to emphasize both the surname and the courtesy name he’d given him – painfully obvious now that he thought about it, though at the time it had seemed only appropriate, the only name he could bestow that fit – and quickened his steps. “Now that my brother has arrived, things will become difficult.”

He wondered, a little bitterly, if his brother had even noticed that he was gone, or if he had been so thoroughly forgotten in his enforced ‘seclusion’ that it hadn’t even been thought of as a possibility.

“Lan Wangji!”

Lan Wangji came to a stop at Jiang Cheng’s shout. Suddenly full of anger, he turned his head back – surely Jiang Cheng didn’t hate Wei Wuxian so much that he wouldn’t let the matter of a small child go, even in the midst of a crisis?

Jiang Cheng was pointing into the distance. Strangely enough, it was not in the direction of the main gate, where Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao were even now landing, but somewhere even further beyond.

“Do you see it?” Jiang Cheng demanded, and his eyes were suddenly wild, his breathing disordered; he seemed far more disturbed than he had when he’d recognized A-Yuan. “Lan Wangji, tell me that you see it!”

Utterly lost, Lan Wangji focused his gaze on the far horizon. It was the same scenery as he’d seen there the past few days, the interspersed richness of the low valleys that quickly arced up into the mountains that surrounded the Unclean Realm. There was nothing there that was unusual…

Lan Wangji spotted a very faint glimmer.

Sun, he thought, the reflection of sun – sun off steel.

All of a sudden, he wasn’t on the ramparts of the Unclean Realm but standing beside Jiang Cheng on a rough-hewn fortress barely worthy of the name, watching the horizon grimly as the damned Wen scout’s flare did its work and the amassed forces of Wen Chao’s troops began to move inexorably in their direction. They would come, he had known, and they would kill them all if they could; it would take everything they had to stop them, and to survive long enough just to retreat once again.

For some of them to survive.

“Invasion,” he heard someone say, their voice hoarse, and only a moment later realized it was himself who had spoken. “Invasion…it’s an army!”

“It’s the Jin sect,” Jiang Cheng said, staring blankly as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him. For once, Lan Wangji understood him completely; he was similarly shocked. “They’re wearing gold, you can see it from here…the Jin sect has sent their armies here? How could they even think to dare? Chifeng-zun will annihilate them!”

Lan Wangji’s throat worked, and for a moment he felt drowned in the quiet once more, his voice not wanting to cooperate with him, his entire being willing or even wanting to return to the solace of seclusion if it would only mean that he wouldn’t have to hear the horrible din of war once more. But he was not a coward, and would do what he must – even speak of things that felt impossible to be spoken.

“That complicated situation I mentioned,” he said, and Jiang Cheng turned to look at him. “My brother has either conspired with or was duped into assisting Lianfang-zun in an attempt on Chifeng-zun’s life through destabilizing his qi and inducing a qi deviation.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw dropped. ��They did what?!”

“Chifeng-zuns remains alive, but is confined to his bed,” Lan Wangji continued, ignoring the interjection. “Nie Huaisang was the one who ordered the shield raised, saying that there might be an attack – I thought he was overreacting, but apparently not.”

“If Jin Guangshan can take over the Unclean Realm while Nie Mingjue is incapacitated, he can say that the incapacitation is worse than it really is,” Jiang Cheng said, abruptly getting it. Lan Wangji had forgotten how much he enjoyed working alongside those from Yunmeng Jiang, Wei Wuxian most of all but also in his absence Jiang Cheng, who was smart and did not require too many words to understand. “Everyone knows Nie Huaisang’s a good-for-nothing – it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for the Jin sect to claim that they came here at the invitation of the Nie sect to ‘rescue’ them, and remained in order to manage the sect on their behalf. Better that than have Chifeng-zun recover and come after you in vengeance!”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“But surely they didn’t think they’d be able to get away with it? Even if they could manage it for a while, as soon as the confusion cleared up, all the other sects would throw a fit…”

“Jin Ling,” Lan Wangji said, and Jiang Cheng blanched, seeming to realize the problem at once. His beloved nephew legally belonged to the Jin sect; if he dared to protest their actions, wouldn’t they be sure to take him away? As for the Lan sect, Lan Xichen would have been implicated through his actions – they could hold his participation over his head, forcing him to pick between supporting them and losing face for the whole sect, which would in turn weaken it. And that was assuming that Jin Guangyao didn’t somehow manage to talk Lan Xichen into thinking it was all for the best regardless…

There were only four Great Sects left, now. If the Lan and Jiang did nothing, who would be left to stand up for the Nie?

“I have to get inside. Nie Huaisang will need my support,” Lan Wangji said, but instead looked down at the children beside him.

“Go,” Lan Sizhui said, releasing his hand and stepping back away from him. “I’ll take Jingyi and hide in the room we’re staying in. You won’t need to worry about us – go, do what you need to!”

Jiang Cheng flinched as if he’d been struck.

Lan Wangji glanced at him. “The Jin sect army,” he said. “However unlikely, there’s still a chance that we are misinterpreting their motives.”

“I’ll go find out what I can,” Jiang Cheng agreed at once. “How many there are, what can be done…I’ll find out and report back.”

Lan Wangji tossed him the guest token he’d been given. “Be cautious,” he said. He still hadn’t forgiven Jiang Cheng for what he’d done in the Burial Mounds, but he was willing to wait until a better time to talk it over with him – now was not the time to try to gain understanding.

Jiang Cheng nodded and left at once, and Lan Wangji saw the children off, then hurried to do the same.

By the time he made it to the main hall, his brother and Jin Guangyao were already there, and Nie Huaisang was confronting them with nothing more than a fan gripped in white-knuckled hands and a glare.

“– dare you talk as if he’s gone mad, as if he can’t be trusted?” Nie Huaisang was shouting. “You should know how seriously we take such words here!”

“It is because of that that we are worried,” Lan Xichen said, and now it was Lan Wangji’s turn to flinch. His brother’s voice sounded just the way it always did, comforting in its familiarity: he sounded calm and patient, thoughtful and wise, sure of himself. He sounded as if he knew better than anyone else what was right and what was wrong. “Huaisang, you don’t know how much your brother has been worried about suffering the way your father did. He knows that qi deviations can be subtle as well as harsh – he understands that his reason might be the first to go –”

“And so you took it upon yourself to decide that for him?” Nie Huaisang sneered. “You keep saying that he understands, that he would understand, all that. But that’s a lie, isn’t it?”

“Huaisang, please,” Jin Guangyao said, his voice just as gentle as always. “You know we only want what’s best for your brother.”

“Do you?” Nie Huaisang said, but he was still looking at Lan Xichen. “You knew he hated the quiet room, er-ge. You knew that he’d never wanted anything to do with it – it’s not like that was anything new! That was something he’d said repeatedly, year after year, month after month, for his entire life. You knew how he felt about it, and you decided to ignore what he wanted in favor of what you wanted. How is that wanting what’s best for him?”

“I was only concerned for his health,” Lan Xichen said, sounding injured by the accusation. “I had nothing but good intentions…”

“Your intentions are immaterial compared to your actions,” Lan Wangji said, and they turned to look at him, both of them surprised – maybe they really hadn’t noticed he’d left the Cloud Recesses.

Well, he thought bitterly: they’d notice now.

He took a step into the room, then another.

“Your actions are this,” he said, ignoring the way his brother stared at his forehead, unadorned by the ribbon that had been there ever since he’d been a small child, receiving it for the first time from his uncle as a precious gift. “You did not trust or respect your elder brother’s word. You disregarded his decision, treating him like a child who can’t be trusted to make up his own mind – you put your own desires ahead of his, and in doing so, betrayed him. Did you really think he’d thank you for it?”

Did you think I’d thank you one day for authorizing our sect’s attack on the Burial Mounds without ever having to explain yourself? Even our uncle respected me enough to tell me at once what he had done and let me decide how I felt about it, accepting the consequences of his actions!

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen murmured. “You’re still healing, you shouldn’t be wandering around…where is your self-restraint?”

Where is your forehead ribbon, he meant, and Lan Wangji shook his head.

“Wangji, you don’t understand,” Jin Guangyao said, and Lan Wangji stiffened at the unasked-for intimacy of the address. “Whatever da-ge said to you, whatever he did, you cannot allow others to guide you by filling your heart with incomplete echoes of what you have lost. You will never forgive yourself.”

Lan Wangji was so furious that he could not speak. Was Jin Guangyao implying that Nie Mingjue had, what, seduced him? That Lan Wangji held his love for Wei Wuxian so cheap that he would have his head turned by the first person willing to make up to him in such a fashion?

“I should hope you know my da-ge better than that, er-ge,” Nie Huaisang said coldly, still speaking only to Lan Xichen. “Or is this something else where you will believe the words of that lying dog over everyone else and the evidence of your own reason to boot?”

“Huaisang, that is unwontedly cruel, and uncalled for,” Lan Xichen said, tearing his eyes away from Lan Wangji. “Whatever Wangji has decided, I do not blame Mingjue-xiong for it.”

Implying, Lan Wangji supposed, that it was Lan Wangji that was to blame for it.

“Put the blame where it belongs,” he said stiffly, staring at his brother as if looking at a stranger. “Was I to leave Chifeng-zun where I found him, half-dead and dying in our jingshi where you left him at Lianfang-zun’s incitement?”

“You think I don’t recognize that I’ve done wrong?” Lan Xichen demanded. “I will speak to Mingjue-xiong and apologize – I will explain my reasoning and let him decide how I can make it up to him. But please, there is no call for you to be cruel to A-Yao. Do not blame him for my mistakes.”

“What about for his lies?” Lan Wangji asked. He took a breath, sharp and unhappy, and suddenly it was desperately, urgently necessary to know the truth. “Brother, tell me you didn’t know. Tell me you weren’t in on it – that you didn’t try to kill Mingjue-xiong in order to cover up your affair.”

“What, kill, you think I would try to…Wangji! Affair?” Lan Xichen exclaimed, and he seemed genuinely shocked. “No, Wangji, you’ve misunderstood entirely! It’s not like that at all. Mingjue-xiong and A-Yao, they were once lovers –”

“No, we weren’t,” Nie Mingjue said.

They all turned at once. He was standing at the door, all but clinging to the doorframe to keep himself standing; he was swathed in bandages and still stuck with needles. None of them had heard him or seen him approach – he must have heard them shouting and dragged himself over.

He sounded tired. He sounded quiet.

He looked at Lan Xichen.

“I was never Meng Yao’s lover,” he said. “Not now, not before, not ever. And Xichen…you knew that, didn’t you?”

#mdzs #lan wangji #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #jiang cheng #lan xichen #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #the quiet room #you may want to reread previous chapters to get caught up

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stillness-in-green · 3 years

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No, Re-Destro Is Not Destro’s Literal Son

and

Yes, I Will Die On This Hill

I have a number of small, persistent quibbles with some of the widespread misapprehensions I see included in BNHA fanfic, quoted as fact in meta posts, even cited on the wiki. Quirk cancellation restraints, what the 20% quirklessness data point means in practice, when Kurogiri comes into existence relative to the time of the Shimura Family Massacre, things like that. My biggest one, though, is as the title suggests: the idea that Yotsubashi Rikiya is Yotsubashi Chikara’s son.

I don’t entirely know where this confusion comes from. As far as I can tell, the early scanlations didn’t get it wrong—one rendered the line in Chapter 218 about Destro having a child he didn’t know about as being children, plural, but otherwise, they were all accurate enough. It seems people just assumed that the child mentioned in 218 must be Re-Destro, who was, after all, right there on the panel. Even though the scanlations never said it, even though the official translation never said it, even though ample evidence in the manga disproves it, the idea still got around that Rikiya is Chikara’s son.

I have and will maintain that this is obviously wrong if you stop to think about it for even a moment, but unfortunately, most people don’t. The error can be found on less well-tended parts of the fandom wiki[1]; it’s in tumblr meta posts about the villains; it’s in fanfic.

And now, god help me, it is on the official anime website, too.

“Stillness-in-green, maybe you should consider that you might just be wro—”

I will face BONES and walk backwards into hell.

But if you want, you can come with me, and I’ll explain on the way. Hit the jump.

Dialogue + Narration

There are two places where the relationship between Chikara and Rikiya is explicitly addressed—the lead-in to the dinner scene in Chapter 218 and the fight between Clone!Shigaraki and RD in Chapter 232. If you include the Ultra Analysis databook, the number goes up to four: once each in Re-Destro and Destro Classic’s character blurbs.

Let’s take a look at each of those places, shall we?

The relevant Japanese text here is in the first narration box: 子ども, kodomo.

Kodomo is not gendered. It literally just means child. The key kanji is 子, ko. Like most kanji, it has a lot of potential readings, and you can add other kanji to it to modify it. Add 息 and you get musuko, son. Pronounce 子 as shi instead of ko, and you get a term that is frequently, though not exclusively, used to refer to boys. Add 女 to that reading and you get joshi, woman/girl. 子 is in a lot of words, many of them gendered! Used for kodomo as Hori does here, though, it does nothing to indicate a gender one way or the other.

Also too, it does nothing to indicate that Rikiya is the child in question; it simply states that there was such a child, somewhere in the world. Now, the natural assumption for anyone who knows how the graphic novel medium works and who understands basic literary analysis would be that the significant character we just met is, in fact, the child in question—except that everything else we learn about Destro and the original Meta Liberation Army here makes it entirely impossible.

I’ll do a full breakdown on why that is in the next section. In the meantime, here’s the next reference:

Here, we’re looking at the phrase the Viz translation renders as, “His blood runs through these veins.” The literal Japanese there is, Desutoro no matsuei chi o tsugu mono! In a literal translation, chi o tsugu mono means, “one who inherits the blood,” or, more loosely, “blood successor.” It’s matsuei—末裔—that’s the key word here.

Japanese has several words to express the concept of “descendant.” Matsuei is one word; the data book uses shison. So what’s the difference? Well, I’ll talk about shison in a moment, but I had an inkling of it just from looking at the kanji in matsuei—“end” and “descendant” respectively, leaving me with an impression of something like a final descendant or the terminus of the bloodline. Further research confirmed it: shison can refer to any lineal blood tie, but matsuei refers to a bloodline’s final inheritor, the person at the end of a long line of many, or even countless, generations. It’s the difference between being able to point to a grandparent and the kind of painstaking genealogical research that lets you[2] point to a famous royal from eight hundred years ago—matsuei is a word that very much assumes the existence of those countless generations.

So not only does Rikiya’s line there not imply that he’s Chikara’s son, but his specific word choice also tells us that he cannot be Chikara’s son. That’s, uh. Pretty conclusive, I would say.

Lastly, though, there’s also the data book. This is, perhaps, the actual closest you’re going to get to a manga equivalent of those character blurbs on the anime website, at least until such time as Hori deigns to give the MLA types character profile pages. (I live ever in hope.)

There are two relevant bits of text, one in Re-Destro’s entry, and the other in Destro Classic’s. The first describes how Re-Destro organizes the MLA as Desutoro no chi o tsugu mono: the same phrase he uses for himself in the manga, minus the matsuei. @codenamesazanka (the one who told me about the databook references among other citations, bless) rendered it as “Destro’s blood successor”; I have also seen it given as “the successor of Destro’s bloodline.” Note again, the lack of reference to a father/son bond.

Chikara’s entry uses that other descendant word I mentioned before, 子孫, shison. Notice that the term uses that ko kanji from kodomo before? As it does in joshi, 子 here reads shi. The other kanji, 孫, means grandchild. Thus, literally, grandchild-child—or, in the vernacular, simply descendant.

And then we have the anime website.

So, for comparison’s sake, the anime website uses 息子—the same combination of kanji that I said earlier gives you musuko, son. Heck, it even uses ��, chichi, for Destro—father. It’s as explicit as it’s possible to be, and I just don’t know why or how the anime website could fuck that up so bad when absolutely nothing in the manga describes the two Yotsubashis that way, and, indeed, one specific word choice actually rules out the possibility.

So, that’s all the manga says directly. It’s not the only evidence there is, though. In fact, the next piece makes it even more clear how colossally and impossibly wrong a father/son connection for Destro and his modern successor is.

Timeline

The long and short of this section is, “Since Harima Oji was Sako Atsuhiro’s great-great-grandfather, there is no possible way that Destro—who pre-dated Harima—can be Re-Destro’s father.” If you read that sentence and nodded your complete understanding and agreement, feel free to skip ahead to the last section. If you’d like the full explanation it takes to reach that sentence’s conclusion, though, read on.

So, aside from the word matsuei, the timeline is the most telling piece of evidence to my eye. I address it secondly rather than firstly because it’s less direct than the explicit narration; it relies on drawing conclusions based on things we’ve been told elsewhere rather than on the immediately relevant text. Oh, Mr. Compress’s relationship to Harima is explicit enough, but on what am I basing my claim that Destro predates him?

Regarding that, there’s no explicit year relative to My Hero Academia’s current events given for when Destro and the original Meta Liberation Army were active; the same is true for Harima Oji’s escapades. However, we are given some broad-strokes information, relative not to current events, but rather to the history of heroism as a legal institution in Japan.

We know that there was a widespread, lengthy period of chaos following the rise of quirks—called meta-abilities in those early years. At some point, however, people began to search for a way for meta-humans to live in peace with non-metas. The compromise that was reached was the foundation of professional heroism in Japan—while the use of meta-abilities would be legal in private settings, it was only by becoming licensed by the state as “heroes” that people could use their quirks in public.[3]

The legislation curtailing the use of meta-abilities—and the appropriation of a dead woman’s language to popularize a law establishing exactly the opposite of what she used that language to call for—is what catalyzed the rise of the original MLA. Thus, we can position Destro as being alive and active around the same time that heroism as a legal institution was being formed. Since we further know that he committed suicide in prison, we can assume that his child was conceived at some point prior to his capture. Ergo, Destro’s child, were they alive today, would be as old as Japanese professional heroism itself.

Next, consider Harima Oji, the Peerless Thief, a criminal who targeted the riches of “sham heroes.” We’re specifically told that he was active in the days in which the current system was settling into place—e.g. he only became active once the Hero System was established enough to have produced corrupt heroes. We’re told he preached reformation—he wasn’t just some pre-existing criminal who saw a shiny new target in heroes; he had specific grievances which he wanted addressed by the system, and which the system was not addressing.

The earliest Harima could possibly be active, then, is concurrent with Destro—Harima fighting against the corrupt people who had found their way into the new heroic institution, and Destro fighting against using the institution of heroism to oppress non-heroes. What I think is more likely, though, is that Harima came after Destro—Harima needed to have had time to realize what kinds of fakes had been drawn to this shiny new career path, maybe even to spend some time trying to change things the legal way.

I don’t suspect they were separated by very long—I would imagine Destro was easily within Harima’s living memory, and might well have influenced why he chose the path of protest that he did—but I do think they were separate.

Moving forward, then, Mr. Compress is four generations distant from his famous ancestor. Thus, even if you assume that Harima is of the same generation as Chikara, that’s what you’re looking at for Chikara’s child: someone who, were they alive today, would be old enough to be the great-grandparent of a thirty-two-year-old man.

Re-Destro’s probably a few years older than Mr. C, sure,[4] but that man doesn’t have Ujiko’s slow-aging quirk. Unless you want to start pulling theories about cryogenic stasis the story for some reason never saw fit to mention out of thin air, Re-Destro is in no way old enough to fit the bill.

This is backed up by one other piece of the timeline as well, and one more place we can look at language:

The small child at the center of the image is Rikiya, so young that he’s in schoolboy shorts for a meeting otherwise so formal that he’s been made to wear a tie. He’s, what, six to nine here, tops? And the adults speaking to him say that they’ve been in hiding for generations—代々, daidai, the kanji for generation followed by a kanji that just means, “See that kanji written right before me? Yeah, just read that one again.”

The original MLA was active for only a handful of years, and, per Chapter 218, they didn’t dissolve until Destro was captured. Thus, we can assume they have been in hiding since then, but not before then. With that in mind, this is another line that renders a father/son relationship impossible.

Remember, Chikara already had a child in the world circa his capture. If Rikiya were Chikara’s son, then Destro’s capture and his army’s subsequent dissolution could not have happened any farther back than nine months plus however old Rikiya was in this exact moment of his youth. Rikiya, who we see here as a child of less than ten.

Ten years in hiding doesn’t make one generation; it damn sure doesn’t make multiple ones.

Now, you could make theories about cryogenic statis that would explain this ludicrous discrepancy, sure. You could also theorize about e.g. artificial insemination,[5] or time stop quirks, or any number of other possibilities in the vast panoply the HeroAca world offers. The point is, though, that you don’t need to. There was, in the manga, no discrepancy that needed to be explained. It is only fanon misinterpretation and a glaring disinterest in the series’ villains from official sources that have presented this issue.

I’m praying that it’s all just a misunderstanding on the part of whoever maintains the website, and that the anime itself will render the relevant bits of dialogue correctly. Given the extreme cuts and alterations that My Villain Academia has been subjected to thus far, though, I’m sure you can appreciate my being concerned.

…So that’s the meat of it. The idea that Rikiya is Chikara’s son is wrong simply on the basis of what’s said in the text, and it’s doubly wrong on the basis of the timeline. There is, though, one other thing I think points towards Re-Destro being exactly the descendant he says he is, not a son playing down the connection out of humility or something. This one is a lot more headcanon-y, though, so I saved it for last.

MLA Social Dynamics

It’s quite simple. We have, in the MLA, a group of people that venerates Destro’s bloodline to an obviously unhealthy degree, putting up portraits of him wherever they can get away with it, tagging his successor with a “Re-” as if to invoke reincarnation or miraculous return, entirely willing to throw their lives away for what they think was his cause, and others’ lives if those others say anything too scathing about the words Destro wrote, quite as if they treat Destro’s memoir as some sort of holy writ.

They venerate Destro that much, and you’re trying to tell me that they wouldn’t just call a spade a spade and acknowledge RD as the son of their great leader? Come on.

Since long before I turned up the matsuei factoid in researching this piece, since long before Mr. Compress gave us such a helpful generational comparison, I’ve held the opinion that, given a group that holds their leaders in such high esteem, with such particular regard for bloodline, the only reason Rikiya does just call himself a descendant, rather than citing the specific term for what he is, is that the specific term is distant enough that it actually does sound more impressive to just say “descendant,” rather than something like, “great-great-great-grandson.” That kind of thing just begs the question, “What took you guys so long?” or, “You and how many other people, buddy?”

Mr. Compress may have the panache to carry off a line like that, but Rikiya’s a different story. If he had something so amazing up his sleeve as, “I am the son of the great Destro,” I have to think he’d just say it proudly, not fall back on the impressionistic vaguery of something like chi o tsugu mono. Even if I had no other evidence to work with, I’d think the same—all the evidence you need is right there in the character writing of who Rikiya and the MLA are and how they talk about the man whose dreams Re-Destro was raised to carry.

A closing note: I will allow that Rikiya is being overdramatic when he uses matsuei and its connotation of countless generations. There are a few other things we can use to trace the history of heroism—Ujiko’s age, and the 18-years-or-less periods that One For All was held by its pre-All Might bearers—and running those numbers leads me to believe that it is, in fact, entirely possible to count the number of generations between Rikiya and Chikara, and the number, while higher than one, is probably not all that high. Certainly matsuei is being more dramatic about it than is entirely warranted, hence the poetic flourish of the official translation’s, “His blood runs through these veins!” The theatricality only makes me fonder of him, however.

------------------------

FOOTNOTES

[1] It was changed and reverted on Re-Destro’s page at least twice before it finally stuck in January of this year. Chikara’s page took until July to be corrected, and it’s still wrong on various other subpages.

[2] Or your kids, if you have those. Only the last generation in the bloodline is the matsuei, but that’s a moving goalpost as long as the bloodline is still propagating.

[3] This summary of events combines what we know from both My Hero Academia proper and the Vigilantes spin-off, which I recommend to anyone who’s at all interested in finer-grained worldbuilding on Hero Society Japan than the main series makes time for.

[4] I personally headcanon him as 42.

[5] To which point I would refer back to the word kodomo, and note that that word choice indicates that Destro had a child in the world. Not a sperm sample kept in a freezer somewhere, waiting for the right would-be mother: an actual child. Some quick research on my part says that the farthest that term stretches is in using it to refer to yet-unborn children, fetuses still in the womb. Seeing as Japan doesn’t even allow inmates conjugal visits in real life, much less in a setting where villains are so dehumanized that Tartarus is an acceptable punishment for them, the line about Destro “having a child out in the world” takes us right back to a date of conception no later than Destro’s final night of freedom.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha meta #yotsubashi rikiya #yotsubashi chikara #re-destro #destro bnha #meta liberation army #my writing #i have thoughts on the anime's nonsense too but #hahawow #that's gonna take a little longer to get coherent #preview: it's not about capitalism #it's about fear

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lexa-lives-in-us · 3 years

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Saving Tips for Hard Times

I found this old document where I collected a series of tips to save money. This is all part of my experience of when I was near homeless, and some work depending on where you live, some don’t. Here we go.

BILLS:

1. The optimum temperature for refrigerator operation is 5°C, and -18°C for freezer operation. As a rule of thumb, for each additional degree of refrigeration output about six percent more electricity is used.

2. Unplug your appliances. Lamps, microwave, tv, computers etc. They don't need to be plugged until you use them, and it saves energy to keep them unplugged. Therefore, money.

3. Do homework for phone companies and internet plans. Call them! Often they are toll free and if you mentioned that you were already with them or thinking of going with them and then found out another company had a better deal, they could offer you deals for lower prices. I had to do it all the time for my phone, until they couldn't really offer anything better.

4. BIKE. Invest in a used bike if you can, especially for the warmer months. It offsets the transit costs and better your health.

5. WALK. That's the same as the bike, honestly.

6. Pay your bills on time, you will avoid late fees which can up to HUNDREDS of dollars wasted over the course of a year. If you can, set up automatic payments so you don’t forget.

FRIDGE:

1. Every time the refrigerator door is opened, cold air escapes and warm ambient air enters. To compensate for the temperature increase in its interior, the refrigerator must then use energy to bring the temperature back down. Always avoid opening the door unnecessarily and for too long.

2. When defrosting frozen food place it in the refrigerator. Not only does this ensure that the food is carefully defrosted, its presence cools down the refrigerator interior, reducing the amount of work that the compressor has to do, and therefore lowering energy consumption.

3. Never put warm food in the refrigerator as this will heat up the interior, as well as other stored foods. Hot food should always be allowed to cool to room temperature before placing it in the refrigerator

MONEY:

1. Keep all the containers like glass bottles, juice bottles, jars, cans etc. Look for your Return-It depot and have trips to return them. They give back coins for laundry, small expenses etc

2. Use that junk mail. Go through it, find coupons for food, for essentials like toilet paper or shampoo.

3. CHECK. THAT. DOLLARSTORE. They often have things like pasta, ketchup, toilet paper, batteries etc for literally 1 dollar. Pasta is pasta, toilet paper is toilet paper. Seriously. Don't need to spend 5$ on a shampoo bottle when you can have it for 1/5 of the price.

4. Do homework and check with different banks for which one offers a better plan. Some of them are willing to help out. Sit down with their advisors, find the best solution!

5. Use the envelope system! For example, one envelope with a label “food” the other with “entertainment” the other with “bills”. Then set the right amount of cash for each. That’s what you’re allowed to spend each month. If you realize you need more for food, grab it from the entertainment envelope. Adapt and arrange as needed.

6. If you can, set up an automatic saving (example 50$ every paycheck) for both regular saving AND an emergency fund.

7. Use the 24-Hour Rule. Avoid purchasing expensive or unnecessary items on impulse with a self-imposed 24-hour rule. For any non-essential item, wait 24 hours before purchasing. It’s perfect for online shopping where your items can simply be added to your cart to purchase later.

8. Make a grocery list BEFORE going to the grocery store and STICK to it. You’re going to avoid buying things you don’t really need.

9. DO. NOT. SHOP. WHILE. YOU. ARE. HUNGRY. Or you’ll end up buying food that you actually don’t need just because you feel snacky!

10. Only use ATMs from your bank, or you get charged small fees.

11. Set a “No Spend Day” per week, where you consciously DO NOT spend any money for that day.

12. Ditch the paper: Cutting out paper towels and using cloths and napkins that you can simply wash and reuse is a simple way to save.

13. After you wear clothes, hang them outside your wardrobe, on a door or something. You can air them out a bit, then stick them in the closet without washing. You can basically reuse the same clothes two or three times without having to wash them, sometimes they just need a bit of air and they won’t smell AT ALL.

14. If you don’t own or want to spend money on an iron, hang whatever blouse you need to iron in the bathroom while you shower. The steam will humidify the fabric and straighten it up.

15. Hang stuff to dry. Really don’t need to spend money on the dryer.

16. Sign up to the library. They have so many books and DVDs nowadays. You can also just go, sit at the library and stay warm for a while, so that you don’t have to sit at home and either suffer the cold or use money on your own heat.

17. Budget, budget, budget. Get a lil notebook, write down the monthly expenses, cut what you don’t need. It gets easier with time.

FOOD:

1. Make a meal plan. Write 10-14 days worth of dishes that you can do (lunch, dinner, everything you need). You can then toss them around as you go on with your week, but that way you have a pretty clear idea of what you use and the food you go through for how long. It also reduces the risks of getting take out since you already have plans for what to eat.

2. Cook double! Seriously. Make that dinner and double it up. Leftovers can be frozen or put in the fridge for the day after.

3. Meal prep. Once a week, prep a bunch of different recipes. Let them cool down, stick them in the freezer. At that point you’ll already have all these meals at the ready to just thaw/microwave or oven up.

4. You don’t need pop. You don’t need alcohol. You most likely don’t need milk, but go for it if you wanna. Just remember dairy products go bad WAY more quickly than non dairies, so consider getting food and drinks with no dairy in them. Mainly, though. Water. Just drink water. Lots of it too! Sometimes our brain can’t tell the difference between hunger and thirst. You think you’re snacky? Drink some water instead! It’ll quell your hunger.

5. Freeze fruit! If you think you’re not gonna be able to eat fruit in time, put it in a Tupperware or a ziplock and slap it in the freezer. You’ll be able to then use it for smoothies.

6. Use the Italian saying “Colazione da re, pranzo da nobili, cena da poveri.” Which quite literally means “Breakfast as a king, lunch as a noble, dinner as a poor.” Breakfast should be very filling, carbs, protein, vitamins. It carries you for the whole day. Lunch should be quite filling too! But supper doesn’t really need a lot of it, and if you REALLY have to skip a meal, skip supper. Your body doesn’t need that much sustenance while sleeping.

7. This is for the desperate times but I’ve done it, and I would do it again if I ever had to. Go to markets that have like… Fruits and veggies. Talk to them. Ask them “HEY, can I have the fruit/veggie that you have to throw away?” Ask them if you can have the ugly produce, the one that doesn’t look pretty enough to be put out. Or ask them to have whatever extra they have to dump because is past the expiry date. EXPIRY DATE IS USUALLY MUCH LONGER THAN WHAT THE LABEL SAYS. I wouldn’t risk it with dairy stuff or with things that are VERY expired, but one or two days? Totally fine, I promise. And if you have to? Dumpster Dive. Especially at markets with fruit and veggies that have to be sold on the same day (because it’s not considered “fresh” past that day.) Or behind pizza places like Dominos or Panago or whatever chain. They get pizza orders wrong all the time. Just give a peak behind these buildings and look inside their boxes. You have no idea how many times I found perfectly fine pizzas. For free! IF YOU DUMPSTER DIVE, MAKE SURE YOU HAVE GLOVES, A MASK AND PLASTIC BAGS TO PUT YOUR STUFF IN. ONCE AT HOME, DISCARD GLOVES AND WASH PRODUCE THROUGHLY. Also check tumblr for your divers community, they usually know the best spots.

CLOTHES:

1. Thrift shop! So many GOOD used clothes are out there! Honestly! My whole wardrobe is thrifted and everything looks brand new. It takes a bit of research and maybe that shirt you liked is not in your size, but you can find EVERYTHING, from socks to bras, at a thrift store. Don’t thrift underwear though. You want to go new with those.

2. Invest in some needle and thread, then open youtube. There are SO MANY tutorials that teach you how to mend holes in socks and underwear. And really, no one will really notice if a mend is perfectly done or not. After a week, you’ll forget it too! But that prevents you from throwing away clothes that could just be mended a little.

3. Something doesn’t fit you? Too small, too big? YouTube, homie. They have tutorials on how to fix these kinda things! All you need, again, is needle and thread.

4. Organize clothes swaps with friends and/or neighbors. Everyone brings clothes they don’t need, put them in a pile. Go through the pile and grab whatever there is. There’s no money exchange, one could go home with 1 item and one could go home with 50 items. Who cares? The extra stuff… DONATE IT TO A SHELTER.

Feel free to add more, and stay safe!

#saving #saving tips #saving tip #money management #savings #small savings #homeless #saving account #my tips #signal boost #thrifting #dumpster diving #recycle #creative reuse #reduce reuse recycle #reducereuserecycle

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gogglor · 3 years

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Cap-Ironman RecWeek: What-If Wednesday

Time for another installment of @cap-ironman rec week! Today’s theme: AU’s.

I know AU’s in different settings are half the reason most people read fanfics, but they’re not really my thing on the whole. AU’s where different choices are made, or different events transpire? Absolutely. Coffee shops? Not my cup of... you know.

So, here’s my AU recommendations for mostly “turn left” scenarios. This time with an under-the-cut break so I don’t take over everyone’s timelines (sorry about that last post). Also with some summaries truncated for length.

Alone Like This

Author: GotTheSilver

Word Count: 7,452

Summary: Steve, post waking up, runs away from SHIELD, and Tony's the one who tracks him down.

Why You Should Read It:

First off, GotTheSilver’s been consistently and regularly putting out solid Stony since 2012 and not only are they not stopping, they’re only getting better. This writer doesn’t get nearly the fanfare I’d expect in Stony circles for someone who puts out this much good stuff, and here’s hoping this post can be a part of changing that.

While I am always a sucker for enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, there’s something to be said for stories where Steve and Tony hit it off right away. And watching these two very different people look at each other and see the same sense of being lost, then finding each other again is... excuse me, there’s something in my eye, ignore me.

Second Chance Lives

Author: raeldaza

Word Count: 43,872

Summary: Tony's gonna die of palladium poisoning anyway, why not join a pointless expedition to recover Captain America’s body? And after, well, why not dedicate his last few months to making sure an American hero settles into his new life? What else is he going to do, get drunk at parties?

Why You Should Read It:

This writer doesn’t write a lot for the MCU but when they do, dang.

“Tony is the one helping Steve acclimate to the new century before Avengers 2012″ is a whole genre of Stony fanfics that scratch an itch I didn’t even know I had before I started reading fanfiction, and this is one of the best ones out there. It’s got it all - Steve poorly coping with his PTSD, Tony poorly coping with his immanent mortality, some breathtakingly poor communication between the two most emotionally stunted men in the MCU, and a cat named Roomba. What’s not to love?

Should You Choose to Accept It

Author: elwenyere (look, you’re gonna be seeing a lot of them this week, sorry-not-sorry)

Word Count: 27,106

Summary: After a terrorist attack and a field operation gone wrong, the Avengers realize that Nick Fury's secrets are just the start of a much bigger mystery. Steve and Tony try to keep some things from each other as well, but that can't possibly affect the mission — right? Mission Fic + Getting Together (or Mission: Getting Together) that mashes up elements from Iron Man 3, CA: Winter Soldier, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season one, and Mission Impossible 3.

Why You Should Read It:

You can see my post yesterday for singing El’s praises, but what I really liked about this fic was how how damn creative it is. The CAWS/IM3/AOS mashup is everything I wished the actual MCU gave us and more, with well-developed characters and an exciting story to put them in. And because it’s El, you know the banter’s gonna be on point, the way the characters care for each other is gonna be emotionally constipated but touching, and the pacing’s gonna be exciting enough to draw you in and keep you there. Also, this fic doesn’t have nearly enough kudos so please go read it and fix that or I’m gonna have to try to hack AO3 and that’ll just be embarrassing for all parties involved.

What Happens In Vegas

Author: sabremc

Word Count: 161,951

Summary: “What the hell, Tony?” Rhodey demanded brusquely. Tony winced and drew the phone away from his ear. “You’ve got cops and Feds all over the hotel. I’m watching you perp walk out of the police station on repeat on CNN. They’re saying you tried to bribe Stern? Fox News has you selling weapons on the black market, and God that picture they’re using is the one from Bali in ’09. You look like shit. They wheeled Stern out and put him in an ambulance, by the way. Got some paparazzi swearing you decked the guy. Now they’ve got ‘copters following it like he’s OJ.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Sourpatch, I’ve got it covered. Uh, though, I should probably tell you that, purely in the interests of national security and the greater good, I kind of had to fake marry that stripper-gram you sent. Thanks for that, by the way,” Tony added quickly.

Why You Should Read It:

If you’re deep enough into Stony to see posts like this on Tumblr, you probably know sabre’s what we in the business call a “big name author.” They’re prolific, they’re popular, and most importantly, they write words good (technical term). Seriously, sabre just keeps cranking out high quality stuff over and over again, raising the bar for the rest of us like a jerk (not really. I’m not bitter they write stuff so good I wish I’d thought of it first. Not at all.)

I never read stripper!Steve or stripper!Tony as a rule, but this came so widely recommended that I broke that rule and boy am I glad that I did. This is also the only fic on this list that’s a true-AU, with Steve being a non-powered vet from Afghanistan who left his army career to help Bucky and is stripping in Vegas to raise money for a prosthetic arm. He’s booked to do a private show for Tony, shenanigans ensue, and now they’re fake-married. This fic’s got some top-of-the-line banter and character development, but I particularly love it for its rich setting. Sabre paints a Vegas not just with strip clubs and blackjack tables, but KISS-themed minigolf, romantic dinners on the Eiffel tower, gaudy hotel lobbies, and making out on giant ferris wheels. It’s such a richly developed playground for the characters to play on, and through it, Steve manages to find a life for himself he’d given up on, and Tony finds multiple ways to show his kindness and depth of feeling for Steve. I know the word count’s long for this one but trust me, you’ve gotta read this fic.

Wait & Sea

Author: Lenalena

Word Count: 53,244

Summary: In which Tony and Steve get sent on an undercover mission aboard a cruise ship to make contact with Hydra. In this AU the military has kept the discovery and defrosting of Captain America a secret, so Steve and Tony have never met before. Yet they are to pose as newlyweds....

Why You Should Read It:

This one’s old and popular enough to be considered one of the “classic” Stony fics, and for good reason. Lenalena doesn’t write too often and not as much as they used to, but the fics they have up there are an absolute delight.

This is another fic that I skipped a bunch of times for being outside my comfort zone, but when I finally read it I saw why everyone’s so wild about it. In this story, Steve’s defrosted a bit earlier and not revealed as Captain America. He and Tony are sent undercover to sniff out Hydra shenanigans on a cruise and, because it’s fanfiction, they’ve got to pretend to be a married couple while onboard. There’s tons to love about this fic, but the things that bring me back to reading it over and over is first, Tony’s kindness and the way he’s attuned to Steve’s feelings, which... God, just inject “kind, observant Tony” straight into my veins, please and thank you. This is also another really rich setting for a story, and Lena knows how to fold the the hokeyness of the cruise into the seriousness of the mission and the depth of feelings Steve and Tony are finding for each other in a really beautiful, layered way. It’s funny, it’s heartfelt, it’s steamy, it’s gripping... why are you still reading this here? Go check it out for yourself!

Ashes to Ashes

Author: dirigibleplumbing

Word Count: 51,582

Summary: After regrouping following some surprise time travel, the world's heroes and sorcerers come up with a plan to protect the Mind and Time Stones by taking them into space in opposite directions. The result involves a lot more time loops than Steve would like, but at least they're getting a second chance to stop Thanos. (As well as a third, and a fourth...) And if Steve takes the opportunity to try to reconcile with Tony, too—well, they have the time, and Steve's going to make the most of it.

Why You Should Read It:

Dirigibleplumbing’s another name in Stony fanfics that does not get nearly as much fanfare as they deserve. They’re consistently a really creative voice in Stony fanfics and I always look forward to their stories showing me something new. Go read all their fics, I need more people to geek out with me over them.

I tend to limit myself on Steve-and-Tony-mend-things-after-Civil-War fics not because they’re not good, but because they’re so heavy, and also the Sokovia Accords have five hundred layers of crap in them that no good fic could possibly hash out well. This one, though? When you add in the Infinity War/End Game fixit? Poetry. Art. Music to my ears. DP wrote a really engaging, twisty story where it’s hard to predict what’s coming next, in spite of it literally being a pseudo-Groundhog day scenario. The characterizations are great, the story is engaging, and the feelings are big and sad and eventually happy. Go read it, you’ll love it.

I have tons of other recs for this category but this seems like a good place to stop for today. Tomorrow’s Alternative Media Thursday, and I’ve got some real gems I’ve been saving for that day (aaaaand possibly a self-rec or two ;)

#capimrecweek #tony stark #Steve Rogers #stony #fanfiction #MCU #ficrec

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simssoulcollector · 2 years

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Tag Game Thing?

Check in tag

I was tagged by @aondaneedles Thank you!

Why did you choose your url?

I honestly do not remember. This blog was dormant and 100% forgotten about until a week ago or so, and then I logged on tumblr on a chrome profile I rarely use, and I was like,. OH YEAH. I really like this url though, it fits my play style I think.

How long have you been on tumblr?

Since 2013. Not on this url, but I had a sims 3 simblr for a VERY long time. So so so long.

Do you have a queue tag?

nope. I live blog while I play most of the time. There’s zero rhyme or reason to it, just snapping pictures as the urge hits me, stuff I find funny, interesting, stuff I want to share. I gave up trying to do anything too structured a long time ago, I can’t stick with it when it’s too formal, or I set too many rules for myself.

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I don’t remember, but probably to post sims 2 stuff, probably a lot more structured than I’m posting now, and then I got bored and fed up and quit, but now I’m back baby!.

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I love the grim reaper. I’m a huge fan of the sims, and a huge fan of discworld, and to me they are the same character.

Why did you choose your header?

I don’t remember, I probably thought it looked cool, or i thought i was being clever, or edgy or something, who the fuck knows. Because it was there and I had the thought it would look good. I was wrong, but i don’t care enough to change it, nor do I have any clue what would work better.

What’s your post with the most notes?

don’t know, don’t care.

How many mutuals do you have? / How many followers do you have?

More than I was ever expecting.

How many people do you follow?

not enough. But I’m picky. Like, not like their posts have to be perfect or anything, more like the opposite. I like watching how people actually play their games. I like reading stories, even if the stories are jumbled or bits and pieces. I especially love seeing how people play the premades.

Have you ever made a shitpost?

probably? I probably walk the line between shitpost and regular post more frequently than I realize

How often do you use tumblr each day?

uhhhhh , i’m not sure how to answer this question

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

sims 3 got brutal there for awhile. a friend got abusive with another friend and I ended up having to take sides. It sucked ass. No one won.

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

phbbbbt.

Do you like tag games?

yup. i think they build community.

Do you like ask games?

See above.

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

no clue. I do not pay that much attention.

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

lmao, I’m so fucking old. no.

Tagging,

I have no idea who’s done this, or who might want to do this, so.... if you liked anything I posted in the last few days, you’ve brought this on yourself.

@plumbtales @clintpatrickgcamachomyinvaderzim @ludsims @simsdada @trashtm @mlek13 @twisteduberhood @unattendedwish @lovelands @caffeinefreedietbepis @simmerprincess17

you don’t gotta do it, but i’ll read it if you do. so. cool.

#tag games

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matchamorphosis · 3 years

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𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐙 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒

・゜ʚɞ ゜・ 𝑎.𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ʚɞ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 ・゜ʚɞ ゜・

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || you’ve been testing ari’s patience and it’s up to him to put you straight— even if it’s going to be your first real punishment.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || smut with plot

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || daddy!ari levinson × little![black//woc]fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.7K — oof i’m sorry

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw, ddlg lifestyle and dynamics, daddy kink, extremely bratty reader, big mean daddy!ari, punishment, cursing, spankings, pussy slapping, some steamy scenes, spilt apple juice, a ruined Care Bear’s coloring page, use of nickname: muffin//muffin cake — MINORS DNI || 18+ INTERACTION ONLY —

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || my head was spiraling out of control and I felt bratty + missed my daddy!ari nonnie so I wrote this :): planning on making much more ddlg scenarios like these because they always seem like such a hit and i have so much fun writing them! anyways I hope you cherubs enjoy this! ♡

↬ p.s || do not repost or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or plagiarize my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡

it all started with a simple question.

the simplest of simple questions you know the right answer to. neverminded the fact that the supreme authority in the house, Ari Levinson, would still call you a big dumb baby if you’d answer correctly.

today was not the best day for you to endure one of your aggressively bratty tantrums he says you’re to old to commit — just as well as it wasn’t the best day for you to exclaim your snappy clever remarks he insisted you’re to little to speak of and understand.

you’re either his big girl or his little girl and no in-between’s.

today ignited something in you, lit a measly match that trailed a kerosene path he didn’t dare think fast enough to put out critically. Ari was too slow to realize the build up and now he’s facing the burning fire that’s practically charring the good nature that was usually your morally-correct actions and behavior.

today you just didn’t feel like being good.

simple as that.

however no matter what you did you wouldn’t win, not on daddy’s watch.

glossy black Mary Janes kick the air in a fiery frenzy, folded arms shielding your face as you sob into the pink fluffy play rug. it’s laying underneath your arts and crafts table and of course your thrashing petite body that’s spiraling in the tantrum.

muffled curses and melodramatic wails fill the pink playroom and the cause of this brat fit was the man at the opposite end of the table. no more than a foot away from you, thick muscled arms crossed over his navy blue polo chest. tapping his foot against the floor impatiently, waiting for your tantrum to end he holds the plastic package of goldfish grahams he took from you.

it wasn’t a good decision to ease your previous brattiness with the brownie baked cookies. of course he couldn’t help but give into your sweet tooth if that meant for you to calm down. although Ari didn’t expect you to finish all the sugary goldfish in your snack bowl in the ten minutes you were out of supervision.

additionally, he didn’t see it coming at all when he left you at that to sip from your juice box and snack on the chocolate goldfish while you colored perfectly in between the bolded lines. all so he could finish some paperwork but not until finding you ten minutes after with the whole package at the account of checking in on you.

the sight of your hand in the bag greedily grabbing the graham goldfishes and shoving them into your mouth was a damn sight to see. even when he secretly hid it in the highest and secret, kept out of eyesight corner of the pantry closet— you somehow retrieved it and smuggled it back in your playroom.

the confiscated, nearly-empty package is now in his fisted grasp. Ari cannot believe the shade of anger and disappointment breaking unknown levels of his calming limits.

words cannot describe the irritation inflaming his mind, you’re suppose to be his good little girl.

his precious little starlet who behaved and acted accordingly but instead he has a brat screaming ass up and face down into the play rug. crying her bug head off because he took your spoiling sugary snack from you that he shouldn’t have given in the first place.

rolling his eyes at the scene in front of him, his blue hues lock on your baby lotion thighs that your tiny purple argyll mini skirt reveals. cotton thigh highs adorned with purple bows at the frilly cuffs that match the small silk ones braided into your hair he helped design, capture his eye.

ever since this morning your attitude has been off and not only did it confuse Ari but it confused you to at first. until you slowly grew into liking the devious part that was hidden inside you for so long that maliciously appeared when you woke up on the naughty side of the bed.

from Ari getting you out of bed, giving you your routine bath, arranging your outfit and getting your hair ready. as well as eating breakfast, you pouted and grumbled the whole time but Ari was still so soft and patient with you. it made your heart gooey but you were craving his mean side.

so after you two got ready and started your separate chores and hobbies for the day, you were slowly working your way to anticipating Ari get mean with you. just like your magic always worked wonders, he did get mean. scolded at you when you were in the middle of reading your book, raising his voice just a slight at you that you did all your chores wrong and haven’t even completed some.

it was scary just for minute that he even had a hint of anger in his voice but damn did you enjoy the wetness in your panties at the same time when he ordered you to do them fully and correctly. until finally what he believed would be the end to your brattiness, nap time arrived.

thankful for it as he started lunch, thinking that when you’d wake up he would recognize his well mannered princess but what he didn’t expect would happen afterwards as he woke you up that you were more crankier than before.

the two of you had your lunch of toasty grilled cheese, thick tomato soup and chicken salad. you were still moody and cranky when you sat down in your pastel chair with the wooden pink painted words of princess displayed on the crest rail.

of course he looked at you as if a mountain troll was stealing his princesses throne because he didn’t recognize the pout pulling at your full glossy lips. the scrunched brows making a dramatic impression that married well with your anger inflicted face that spoiled your pretty facial features.

as much as your daddy thought you looked adorable being cranky, every little thing seemed to tick you off. you had a problem with everything that could either easily be fixed or was out of your hands.

the grilled cheese wasn’t cut in the shapes that you wanted, he placed the cheesy slices in your wrong disney princess plate, you didn’t want to eat your greeny nasty salad, you wanted another cup of sprite. which you were neglected of because ari had a limit set for you from not drinking anything more than the amount your tiny hello kitty cup provided.

and most importantly you wanted to have Lulubelle, your tangerine teddy bear, to eat at the table.

of course he fixed his first two mistakes but you knew better than to argue against and ask for anything that went against the rules. instead of putting you to a corner, he set up another option.

encouraged you to eat your greens to set a good example for your stuffies. replaced the second cup of sprite you wanted with a juice box of your choice and placed Lulubelle on one of the living room couches telling you she will wait for you to finish eating and washing your hands.

but even with those resolutions there were major bumps and outbursts.

you played with your food by smacking your spoon against the soups surface which caused little splatters of red dots across the glossy cherry oak table and grumbled under your breath as you picked off the crust of the grilled sandwich.

flicking it with the swiftness of your two inch acrylics, the pieces landing in Ari’s soup or hair.

it was as if you were set on getting on his nerves because damn right you were.

rolled your eyes and silently mimicked his mouth when he ordered you to stop. deviously giggled when the funny vein on his forehead that only bulged out when he was really mad at you was potentially going to pop out.

a smirk playing your lips when the corner of your eye caught every clench of his fist when you would hit the table leg obnoxiously as you slurped your soup. misbehaved yet did what he ordered you to when you believed his attention was back on his own food.

it was a very long lunch and as much as he thought he was going to snap at you and put you in your time out chair that was rarely used because you never ever acted like this, he left you to wash up as he cleaned up after lunch.

you would normally help him with cleaning the table or giving him any dirty dishes for him to clean when he was busy at the faucet. but he allowed you to run off into the living room and play with your stuffed bear in whatever todays make belief adventure the two of you were on.

cleaning up was easy since he only had to clean the bowls, plates and utensils the two of you ate with but it wasn’t until he started to clean the table did he notice all the soup drops against the cleaning plastic as well as the chunky pieces of lettuce, tomato, and bread crusts under the table around your chair.

Ari was close to exploding, because he taught you better then to throw food and waste it but he gave himself a breath, counted to ten and made sure to make a mental note tonight. after your special cartoon marathon, he’d have a very important talk to you about food waste and how wrong it was.

so after cleaning up and warning the two of you were going to have a talk tonight, he settled you in your playroom since it was a room away from his office. Ari never felt comfortable or secure with leaving you all alone downstairs without someone watching over you.

adjusting and nestling the baby monitor on one of your teddy bears heart strap, he placed the stuffed bear near your arts and crafts table. even if you were glaring at him for doing so, you weren’t a baby. although as usual, your daddy shushed at you and placed a kiss at your temple that made you silent as you pulled out your coloring books from your big wooden weaved basket with a grumble.

Ari knew you despised the baby monitor but he made it a priority to place it near you at all times when he wasn’t near. even if the meeting was only going to be around fifteen minutes, your daddy wasn’t going to narrow down the possibilities of something going wrong.

after settling your desired snacks when you remind him that it’s snack time, Ari settled your juice box that he already pierced the straw through the tin foiled hole and your brownie goldfish in your hello kitty snack bowl halfway. checked his watch knowing he had to attend the virtual meeting in less than a few minutes.

kneeling down at your level as you munched on the fish shaped cookies and colored in a fluffy cloud a Care Bear was sleeping on. pulled you into a hug and pressed a kiss to your temple, “Daddy is going to be working in his office princess. can you behave like a good girl until daddy’s done with his meeting?”

the smile that was on your face disappeared, you didn’t want daddy to go and leave you alone!

I mean what was more important than sitting and watching you color? have you feed him the chocolatey goldfish and draw pretty sparkly hearts and shooting stars for him?

“Daddy I don’t want you to go! can the work wait?” you whine but Ari shook his head with a sigh, standing up to your dismay. peering down at you as you glare up at him.

“no the work can’t wait, muffin. it’ll only be twenty minutes and after Daddy does the work he’ll be back here. helping you color a page from your coloring book, how does that sound?” the soft lowness of his voice didn’t leave room for you to bite back an aggression but only nod.

“yes Daddy I would really like that.” Ari smiled to himself at that, thinking that your brattiness has finally come to an end as he left your room.

oh how wrong he was when he arrived back once the meeting was over.

Ari literally caught you with your hand in the cookie jar and you didn’t even look ashamed at all. not stuttering trying to explain your faultless contribution to this crime-like action.

to add onto the shock, when he snatched the bag just full of five goldfishes and crumbs did you start to cry and spiral into you tantrum even when he said nothing yet.

now we are here five minutes later.

with Ari looking down at your still continuing tantrum but noticing it’s lessening with your kicks and whines.

the only thing he feels is disappointment.

not only were you ruining your chances of watching the annual cartoon marathon the cable TV’s going to premiere later on tonight— that he allowed you to stay up to after relentless begs and your good behavior from previous weeks before — but you completely spoiled your appetite for dinner.

your favorite meal he made specially to go along with the cartoon marathon but now watching your tantrum become even more relentless Ari is confirming that you most definitely will not participate in it. maybe even cut your day short once you complete your night routine after dinner and make you head straight to bed.

“are you done being a brat now?” Ari, you’re soft daddy bear snapped viciously.

however you’re still letting out whines and sniffs as you reveal your red teary eyes from the carpet. the sight of them makes him want to drop the bag, kneel down and scoop you in his arms. kiss your face and tell you he’s sorry that he took the cookies away from you, but he can’t.

Ari cannot let this tantrum slide and give you what you want no matter how much it hurts his heart he isn’t trying to calm you down himself in the security and warmth of his arms around his little one.

he needs to put his foot down.

and it serves him right, because once latching your eyes on your mean Daddy’s austere blues you grab your white tiger stuffie nearby. covering your tear stricken face within the faux white fur with a gritted and bratty hmph!

it was infuriating how your Daddy had to take all the things you wanted away from you. obviously you didn’t have a say in anything cause you were suppose to be his good girl but why continue to act good now when you know you’re Daddy is going to ruin the only thing that you’ve been anticipated since the beginning of December?

today approximately around eight o’clock on the dot the big people channel you were forbidden to watch from was going to premiere all your favorite holiday cartoons. The Powerpuff Girls, Scooby Doo, Charlie Brown, Looney Tunes, and the various vintage episodes of nostalgic Mickey Mouse.

if all went wrong as you went down with your ship you could watch some of the holiday issued tapes of Strawberry Shortcake and Winnie the Pooh on your vcr but it wasn’t as often you would have access to the other cartoon specials you enjoyed premiering their limited episodes at the touch of a remote and Ari knows this!

your big mean Daddy knows how much you’ve been looking forward to it but he’s probably going to instead send you off to your secluded bed in the separate room he sends you to when he was to furious to have you sleep with him in your shared big king bed after dinner.

belly full of your favorite food that’s going to stir badly in your stomach as you shift under your warm covers restless because it wouldn’t be your goddamn bedtime. only having the single company of your golden fairy nighty nightlight and the only stuffie he’d allow you to cuddle for the night.

it makes you want to explode because you know how this is going to end but you’re head is to tired to even say anything in retaliation or beg him not to reconsider.

but maybe… if you think up something quick to throw him off it’ll buy you enough time to behave and show him you could be good.

even though you screamed all the naughty no-no words Ari would have you over his lap in a second if you even thought of them. throat sore and red eyes stinging from crying so damn much and rubbing your closed eyelid fiercely against the play rug and stuffie.

a plan is concocting in your mind, nothing devious but it will have its dose of your witty pettiness and unholy brattiness.

daddy won’t suspect a thing, you thought as you stopped your sniffs and cries.

wiped your tears with the cashmere sleeve of your cropped lavender cardigan as you got up from your sprawled position. patted your argyle patterned skirt down to smooth out any wrinkles and got back to work on the arts and crafts table.

and your plan is beginning to work because it does take Ari by surprise when you get up from your pathetic little position. the purple argyle skirt now fully covering your bum, he knows you’re ignoring his stern stare when you scoot your knees back to the small crafts table.

continuing to color from your coloring book as if nothing happened.

Ari scoffs to himself, what kind of mind game were you playing on him?

“what do you think you’re doing muffin?” Ari spoke and for once you stare back at him. eyes slightly red as evidence of your crying, they’re calm now as they meet his.

“nothing Daddy, i’m just coloring,” you spoke, the crayon in your hand shading in a midnight sky. Ari continues to stare down until he takes the crayon from you— but what he doesn’t expect is that when he snatches the crayon from you he accidently knocked over your apple juice box.

the mellow yellowish liquid spills onto your crayon box, containing the limited edition colors you prized. soaking your beloved coloring tools with the sticky juice; it made your bottom lip tremble as you quickly grab the slightly soggy box. you let out a whine as you feel tears spring in your eyes.

the unintentional incident and your heartbroken state almost has Ari yet again stumbling to fix what wasn’t really his fault. leaving the room to get paper towels and a cleaning spray.

coming to terms with this, you’re surprised to find the casualty of your crayons diverting the attention away from you and onto something else.

maybe if you kept this up, eight o’clock would come and he’d have nothing else to do then allow you to have your cartoon marathon.

you thought as you tapped a single finger to your peachy cheek in thought.

all you had to do was put him in situations that would conflict him into think it was initially his fault therefore guilting him into giving you what you wanted!

then you’d be set on the living room rug with a plate of your favorite food on your lap. a stuffie at your hip and looking up at the tv as the credits for the first cartoon of the night rolled in.

quickly finding some Lysol wipes and tissues in the playroom you clean up the mess and the cardboard crayon box as Ari’s loud footsteps come closer and closer.

swiftly disposing them in the craft trash basket and settled in your cushion seat before he arrived in the doorway with his arms full of cleaning supplies. when Ari stepped back into the room he was surprised to find you already cleaned up the mess and properly sitting as you continued coloring.

twirling a braided lock of purple silk bowed hair around your finger. figuratively showing how much you were controlling those dominant Daddy instincts of his he wasn’t going to have you get your way.

you still need to come to terms of all the wrongs you committed today and if all goes well he’d decide if you could attend to that cartoon marathon. “muffin?�� Ari spoke and on que your head lifts up, your pearly white smile so tender and innocent as if you weren’t messing with mind to get whatever you wanted.

meaning excuse all the trouble you got yourself into.

“yes Daddy?” voice soft and perky as you settle the crayon on the table, he catches you sitting up straighter. elbows resting on the table and arms pressing close to your chest to pronounce your plump cleavage the top three un-buttoned piece of your cardigan displayed.

the delicious sight has him licking his lips, wanting to throw you over his shoulder with the loud and rough slaps to your ass and take you to your room. throwing you on the bed and rip every little piece of clothing off of you.

—but that’s what you want him to do, you want to have him distracted from the task at hand. especially when the task is putting you in your place and marginalizing your chances of watching the night special of holiday cartoons.

“what do brats get?” that question has you dropping your eyes from his to stare blankly at the coloring book and lined arrange of crayons in front of you.

did you want to answer him correctly or did you not want to answer at all?

the options where bouncing in your head but you didn’t realize Ari’s still waiting for you to answer when you ignored the question. picking up a crayon and colored in a Care Bear as if he didn’t ask you anything at all.

“muffin are you listening to me?” Ari sighs, tone no longer the softness as a few minutes ago and no longer bearing the same patience as before.

it doesn’t match your inattentive focus, you’re still coloring and teasing him. the sleeve of the tight periwinkle cardigan slipping off your shoulder, showing more of your rich skin that Ari wants to kiss and mark with his lips.

shaking his head out of it, telling himself that he was the adult and you were the brat and he was going to— no matter how much you were going to cry — discipline you into obedience and get his well behaved muffin back.

“i’m going to count to three and if-” he’s cut off when you roll your eyes on him, catching his voice in his mouth like a frog in his throat. Ari’s conflicted entirely and pissed entirely because you’ve never rolled your eyes at him, ever.

so as you persisted to ignore Ari, scribbling one of your multi colored crayons, you have a pink one in your hand. shading in a heart and an idea shines like a lightbulb above his head.

without any warning his large hands snatch the coloring book from under your grasp. the pale purple crayon in your small hand that was once shading in Share Bears fur runs along the whole paper. the sudden climax of running colored wax against moving paper, shocking you to a gasp.

an offended wail excludes from your mouth but Ari is too pissed to feel sympathetic. getting up he holds the coloring book he bought for you during the weekend above his head. somewhat enjoying and taking pleasure as you stand up on your tippy toes and jump to retrieve it with fail.

indeed taking pleasure as he stares down at your full tits bouncing in your comfortable tube top that’s underneath the cardigan. loving your cries and whines as you beg him to give your coloring book back.

eyeing your tiny delicious figure that's far too small to reach the skyscraper height that holds your beloved Care Bears coloring book. it made Ari’s heart melt when you hugged and pressed your kisses all over his bearded face when he gifted you it some day ago but he never thought he’d enjoy taking it away from you.

right now he has to put you in your place and ignore the tightness in his pants to deal with later. “Daddy you ruined my drawing!” your sobs and whimpers proclaim, continuing to jump as your cries became louder and tears become more present.

“you didn’t answer Daddy’s question little one,” he hissed and with that your cries come to an end to just reveal a glare then a smirk.

quitting your attempts of retrieving the coloring book you turn around and walk away. a slight hypnotic flow of your hips and curves making Ari’s eyes train to the plump assets.

“what was the question again?” you sighed tiredly, encouraging the deadly glare your Daddy has on you.

a yawn overcoming you as you hovered your hand over your mouth that makes Ari scoff. glossy lips still bearing cookie crumbs at the corners you stretched, you lick them off and you bite your lip at him.

mocking him in your divine rebelliousness.

letting out little high pitched noises as you arched your back with your hands twined together above your head. again, to emphasize your cleavage, “would it just go in one ear and out the other or would you actually listen and answer like a good girl?” Ari seethed.

you stand there and register it and of course you were heading off the direction you want but maybe you can turn the tables on him. “i’ll be a good girl Daddy, I promise i’ll listen,” voice soft and assured.

Ari cocks his head to the side at that promise, quirking a brow but not breaking the stare he has on his precious angel that’s playing the devil. he’ll put that promise to the test, walking around the small yet wide arts and crafts table he finally stands in front of you.

making you heart thump louder and louder with each step he takes.

crouching down on his knees to face you at your eye level, Ari sees the devilish twinkle in your starlight eyes. waiting for him to ask the question he knows you can answer correctly.

“what do brats get?”

his stern and mean face that always makes you stutter on your own words and trip over your own feet clashes with yours.

of course you can answer correctly, you can but you can’t believe how fun and thrilling it is with not just your growing ego but the wetness growing in between your legs. soaking your lace panties when your hands lift up to trace his bulging biceps through the short sleeved polo.

“treats?”

you whisper, before your hand goes to grasp the bulge of his trousers that he lets out a pleasured hiss. before you can smirk he’s slapping your hand off his trouser covered cock.

and in a blitz of a second you’re squeaking out a squeal as Ari grabs you by your arm. dragging you to the rocking chair resting near your bookshelves of thick hardcover storybooks and sits in the cushion seat before throwing you over his lap.

whines and cries getting louder when Ari lifts up the tiny argyle skirt to reveal your ass. tummy squirming against his lap he pulls gently at your hair to lift it up.

“keep squirming and i’ll add another five to the twenty you already have,” he hisses but you still can’t believe everything has lead to this.

Daddy never gave you spankings.

never gave you physical punishments before but as much as you were despising the situation you can’t believe how your slicked core is getting wetter with each second that’s passing. with your Daddy’s large hands caressing your ass cheeks and those thick fingertips teasing your pussy’s slit.

“you’re going to count each spank I give you and after each spank I want you to thank me. no whines, no crying just ‘thank you Daddy’. do you understand me?”

Ari’s deep low voice above you rumbling your core like thunder on a dark stormy night. only leaving you to whimper in fear as you nod but were caught off guard when he landed a loud swift slap! to your ass. causing you to gasp in pain.

“yes!” you cried but squirmed when he chuckled down at you. leaving you wandering what you did wrong before he landed another spank to the same cheek. causing you to cry out and feeling the honey of your pussy drench your inner thighs.

“what was that? did you even listen to your Daddy?” he hissed as another rough spank crashed onto your ass, “what do you fuckin say?” he practically roared, leaving more tears to drop down the landscape of your dewy face.

“one! thank you daddy!” you wail pathetically, tears soaking your cheeks, you knew your Daddy is doing what was best for you but you couldn’t help but want to squirm away from his grasp.

catching you doing so he grips your neck in his grasp. “don’t you fuckin run from me now muffin, you acted like a brat so i’m gonna treat you like a fucking brat. we have one down and nineteen to go, don’t disappoint me,” Ari seethed before grasping your panties and pulling them off you.

by pulling off he ripped them at the area that covered your ass, marveling at the wetness of not just the panties but your pussy as well. “my muffin got worked up misbehaving? you get your dumb cunt wet when you disrespect Daddy’s authority?” he murmurs.

stuttering and attempting to answer the words become inaudible once your lips part at the calloused hands of Ari’s. soaked panties in his hold, he shoves them into your mouth. making you taste your own sweetness as he licks his own fingers from your honey and moans at the tangy palette.

“I thought we established no talking, you really are just a stupid little girl,” as much as his words sprung tears in your eyes you couldn’t help but feel your core burn. clenching your thighs together as result he darkly chuckles at the pathetic action.

his hands grip your thighs to forcibly split them apart, “oh muffin cake don’t distract Daddy now,” he darkly chuckles and before you now it a loud and swift slap hits your wet pussy. making you cry out in pain that’s slowly growing into pleasure.

“you’ve done enough of that for today. right now Daddy’s gonna have to punish you,” his hand that’s still at your cunt rubs it.

the slick of your wetness sounding off creating an erotic echo in the room and just like that he’s slapping your small wet pussy with his rough hand again.

“and no matter how much you cry or squirm or beg me to stop I want you to handle it like the big girl I know you can be. do you understand me?” his growl overcoming your muffled pained whimpers and moans as you feverishly nod your head up and down.

pulling the panties out of your mouth you nod your head, “yes Daddy, I understand,” you whimper after a few hiccups.

you can’t see the smirk plastered on his face but you can see his risen hand in the air from the corner of your dress up hand mirror. angled on the floor to capture the moment, shuddering when it disappears from the mirrors image you feel the rough spank at your cheek.

not as rough and angry as the first three but still enough that it stings tremendously, “two, thank you Daddy,”

“that’s what I like to hear muffin,” Ari smirks before getting back to work.

your Daddy continued to give you your deserved spankings, your ass bruised and sore by the time he was finished and was satisfied with each one you counted and thanked him for.

praised you for not squirming even when you wanted to as he covered your ass with the thin material of your skirt.

“you did so well muffin cake. handled and took your punishment like the good girl I knew you could be,” he whispered lovingly in your ear m as he carried you to both your shared bedroom to rub some soothing lotion on your sore bum.

“thank you Daddy. I-i’m so sorry I was so bad today,” you whimpered as chocked hiccups become more unbearable. eyes swelling up with tears and a little sob erupting from your mouth. Ari shushes it by taking your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“it’s okay baby, I promise everything is okay. no matter how bad you act always know, always know that Daddy still loves you. i’ll always love you muffin cake, that’s forever.” those soft blue hues lace with yours and you truly do feel at ease.

nodding your head at his soft supportive assertion, his forehead pressed to yours and your noses rubbing tenderly against each other. making you giggle and he grins as he laughs with you before setting you down on the bed.

Ari rubs the soothing cold lotion against your bum, continuing to shower you with divine praises, sweet appreciations and heart warming adorations that made your peachy cheeks sore from your never-ending smile.

afterwards he gently carries you in his arm downstairs heading to the living room. telling you how you and him were going to fix the coloring page he ruined as snuggle you face into his neck. large bunny stuffie in you locked armed connection he settles you down on the couch.

grabbing the fluffy throw blanket draped on one of the other couches he grabs it and wraps your lower half in it. giggling as he tucks it around your sides to make sure you’re nestled nice and warm, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Ari glances down to his watch with a soft smile, clutching the remote on the coffee table he turns the TV on.

smirking at your confusion when he goes on the channel that’s minutes away from airing the cartoon marathon.

“Daddy what are you doing?” your hushed voice catches his ears, Ari turns his head over his shoulder at you looking up at him with those conflicted doe eyes.

“i’m letting my muffin watch her cartoons. Daddy knows you’ve been waiting a month to watch them and daddy knows his princess deserves it,” his soft smile only but eludes your guiltiness.

“but i’ve been really bad today. b-bad girls don’t get TV time. they don’t get to watch cartoons,” you sob as tears began to fall once more but they’re quickly wiped away at Ari’s warm hands, cooing you into calming down.

“Daddy knows you’ve been bad today, but you proved to Daddy that you were good at handling your punishment. bad girls don’t get TV time, you’re right, but bad girls who take their punishments well and understand what they did wrong get TV time. because they’re no longer bad girls,” he smiles and you smile as well, leaning in for a kiss he accepts.

“there’s only a couple of minutes left before the premiere starts. Daddy’s gonna be in the kitchen starting dinner, if you need anything just call Daddy’s name out okay?” he whispers and you nod your head, shifting attentively on the couch to get into a comfortable position.

smiling to yourself as you pull your bunny plushie closer when the commercials end and the beginning credits to How The Grinch Stole Christmas starts to roll in.

you come to a solid conclusion.

no matter how you get in your bratty fits that your Daddy is going to forever love you. and no matter how stern Daddy is and how angry you are at him, you’re forever going to love him.

and no spanking or ruined drawing is ever going to change that!

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bigfrozenfan-fanfics · 3 years

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Chapter 13 - Kolgrimr’s Fury

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday at 6:00 pm CEST dst/UTC +2:00 on (link)

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks. It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting and music.

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At some point his mother had stopped beating the drum and after a few minutes he returned from his trance state to reality. His gaze cleared up and he saw Gyda sitting right in front of him. She looked at him relaxed and with a satisfied expression on her face. He listened into himself and felt a previously unknown power within him, it was almost tangible. He smiled at her and nodded impressed. “It worked. I can feel it. Thank you, Mother.”

She briefly stretched out both arms, palms up and said, “What did you expect? It always helped your father up until that day and now it will help you.”

“Yes, indeed. It will help me to get my ...,” he broke off in the middle of the sentence and his face took on a look that was at first astonished, then annoyed. Quite automatically he had let his mind wander and realized that the Arendellians had disappeared from the camp. They had been warned!

“What have you done ...,” he gasped and pulled himself up. He stared at his mother.

“What is it, Kolgrimr? What did you see?”

“They are all gone! Fled because someone warned them! The ritual prevented me from noticing in time. I ...” He clenched his fists and looked at her fiercely, his lips trembled.

She gasped and clapped her hands in front of her mouth. Then she stood up and looked at him sadly, almost pleading. “Kolgrimr, please ... I didn't mean it. Who could have guessed it!”

For seconds they just stood facing them and stared at each other. Then he seemed to have made a decision. One could clearly see it working in his head. “Well, let's do it the other way. It will take longer and have consequences for someone, but I have no choice now. You can prepare yourself for big changes, Mother.”

He angrily grabbed his things and stormed out of the hut. His mother stood there helpless and with her mouth open, staring at the spot where he had just slammed the kota's lid behind him.

~~~

He was furious and roared as he walked through the camp, holding his deadly modified battlestick in front of him. He simply pushed the nearest Northuldra out of the way and moved towards the camp centre.

Many more men and women were already gathering there, startled by Kolgrimr's cries of rage and warning shouts echoing through the camp. Everyone stood there waiting and nervous with their birch wood sticks in their hands and those who didn't have one hurried as fast as they could to their kotas and took it.

Yelana ran up gesticulating and tried to calm her people down. “Stand back! Stay calm, folks.”

Then Kolgrimr stepped onto the small clearing, his burning gaze directed at the leader. The people groaned when they saw him for the first time. So this was Gyda's son and some of the elders here had a deja vu moment as they remembered his father's appearance. Wrapped in his almost black fur coat, he wore a hood with reindeer antlers on his head, and his huge-looking figure loomed threateningly before them.

He pointed angrily at Yelana. “You! You drew everyone's attention and warned them about me. Not only that; you have allowed this brood from Arendelle to enter into our land again and you have also have taken care of them, and treated them as if they were our own people. And then you just let them go!”

“Kolgrimr, calm down, you're making a big mess of things here. They have proved to us that they are our friends and they amended the mistakes of the past. They ...”

“Shut up!” he yelled at her and cut off her word. “They lulled you in, wrapped you around their finger and repeating to you what they did to our old leader. What they did must be avenged!”

“Kolgrimr ...,” she began, but was interrupted by him again.

“You are unworthy to rule us, an illegitimate leader of the People of the Sun and have simply usurped that position. You have betrayed our people and now you will be replaced! My mother will take her rightful position in your place and you will be banished for your deeds.”

Yelana gasped for breath and the mood of the Northuldra tipped behind her. One of the men rumbled, finally becoming enraged, ran angrily towards Kolgrimr with his battlestaff raised against him. But the latter only grinned, and then something began that hadn't happened for ages, a deadly serious battle of the Northuldra against one of their own.

~~~

Honeymaren was already halfway back to the camp when she heard excited voices from there. “What's wrong now?” she muttered and started to run.

Even before she passed the first kotas she heard the roar of an unknown person. She soon realized that this could be only one person. “Kolgrimr!” she exclaimed in horror and stopped so abruptly that she almost tripped over. Her heart began to accelerate and a deep fear seized her suddenly.

What am I going to do; she thought and crept forward carefully, far enough so that she now saw almost all of her people standing together in the clearing, with Yelana at the head. And then she saw Kolgrimr himself and her heart almost stopped at the sight of him.

She had to stand by her people now. Wasn't she the best Skalastet fighter among them? But that also meant that she might very soon find herself in a serious situation between life and death for the first time in her life. She was very afraid and just stood there like paralyzed for seconds. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly to calm down again. Then her decision was made and she crept unnoticed around the crowd and Kolgrimr, towards her kota. Once there she took out her battlestick and moved silently to the hut that was right behind Kolgrimr.

Arriving there, she ducked on the ground and peeked around the corner. A soft noise made her look to the side, startled and she recognized her brother, who moved one hut away towards her, with his battlestick in the crook of his arm. She put a finger in front of her lips. Ryder nodded and now also looked forward to the clearing. Then he looked at her questioningly and she waved him over. When he was with her he whispered, “You're not planning on attacking him from behind all by yourself, are you?”

“What else can I do, little brother, I must stand by them all. But you can be sure that I'm very scared too. This looks like a real fight and it may end badly.”

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“Please be careful, sister, and don't do any of those jumping-up-the-tree-and-hit-up experiments like you did with me. We don't know how good he is with the stick.”

Honeymaren nodded and looked forward again carefully, every tendon in her tensed to breaking.

And then suddenly everything went haywire without any warning.

~~~

Yelana just yelled out loud, “Don't attack him ... stop!” and spread her arms wide to hold her people back, but it was already too late.

Kolgrimr levered up his attacker's battlestick and kicked him so hard against his chest with his foot that he sailed backwards in a high arc and then lay motionless.

Now there was no holding back anymore and many Northuldra stormed him all at once. The first three did not know what happened to them when their battlestaves were knocked from their hands with such force that they themselves were torn around and hurled to the ground. At the next man Kolgrimr cut the staff in half with the blade of his hunting tip in one mighty blow, and in the same movement he struck the other end of the staff with force against his neck. The Northuldra crashed to the ground like a felled tree.

The wave of the attack came to a halt and the Northuldra became more careful now. With eyes widened in fear they looked back and forth between the men lying on the ground and Kolgrimr. Only a few seconds had passed and already five of them were out of action, two of them unconscious and three rubbed their aching arms.

They slowly moved further apart and tried to encircle him now with sticks held out in front of them. Kolgrimr smiled and let his battlestick whirl before him, so that the blades of the hunting tips flashed in the light of the low-lying sun and created a trail of light in front of him. The men hesitated.

Honeymaren still waited. He was yet a bit too far away from her and her steps would surely reveal her in the attack. She hoped that the next attack would bring him closer to her. She slightly corrected her foot position and the grip on her staff. She was ready for the jump.

And indeed, Kolgrimr retreated slightly at the next attack. Two of the more experienced fighters exchanged fierce blows with Kolgrimr at the same time. But he had no problems at all to parry the strokes. With playful ease he casually hit them against arms, legs and scored body hits. He obviously played with them and was unnaturally fast. It was almost as if he knew exactly in advance where the two men were going to strike.

“Yet a little bit closer ...,” Honeymaren whispered to herself without a sound and gripped her staff tighter.

Now the third attacker joined in, a wirily built younger Northuldra woman. She let her battlestaff slowly spin in front of her, waiting for the ideal moment to attack as she moved in a semicircle closer to the fighters. Then the moment was there, she jumped into the gap and thrust with all her might. Kolgrimr made a leap backwards.

That was the moment Honeymaren had been waiting for and left her guard. One leap, another, and her toes barely touched the ground as she jumped up behind him with her battlestaff raised and delivered a precise, powerful blow to the only exposed spot. His carotid artery. She knew it wouldn't kill him, but it would certainly incapacitate him.

She also knew at this crucial moment that her stroke was perfectly executed and would find its target. Then the unthinkable happened. Only a fraction of a second before that, Kolgrimr crouched down in a flash, spun around and looked her straight in the eyes with a terrifying, mad grin, as her strike went nowhere and she went down uncontrolled. Immediately he was above her, put his foot on her chest and pressed his hunting tip against her neck. Honeymaren was stunned and let her staff roll out of her hand.

“You!” he rumbled over her and slightly increased the pressure with his battlestick. Honeymaren groaned and a thin blood thread ran from the light cut.

“Let go of my sister at once, you monster!”

Kolgrimr slowly turned around and saw Ryder standing behind him in attack position two steps away. He raised an eyebrow in surprise and said, “Interesting. I didn't see you coming.”

“How could you, I was standing right behind you, in your blind spot. Let her go now ... please. She was just trying to defend us. We haven't done anything to you!”

Kolgrimr pondered, looked down at Ryder's sister again and then raised his eyes to look into the faces of the surrounding ones who were frozen in their movement.

One of the men whispered in the ear of the equally shocked Yelana. “How can a man be so fast. It's supernatural.”

Yelana shook her head slightly and muttered just two words, “Berserker juice.” He looked after her uncomprehendingly as she took two steps towards Kolgrimr, threw her staff from her and spread her arms wide.

“Kolgrimr. Enough! Hear me ... I beg you. I will grant your request and go into exile willingly if you release Honeymaren. You don't want to kill one of our people, do you? You are one of us, and it is not us you hate.”

Kolgrimr's attitude relaxed a little and Honeymaren dared to breathe a sigh of relief. At least she hoped fervently that he would accept Yelana's offer.

“Why not right away so? That's I wanted to hear since the beginning. Drop all your staffs and step back,” he ordered in a loud voice, turned back to Ryder and said, “You too!” He made a nodding head movement towards the ground and fixed Ryder with a piercing look.

Ryder hesitated and gave Yelana a questioning look. She nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally dropped his staff.

Kolgrimr took the spearhead from Honeymaren's neck and said to Yelana in a commanding tone, “Get your belongings and get out of here! Hurry up, go on!” Yelana gave him an angry look, picked up her staff again, took a quick step to her kota and disappeared into it.

Shortly after, she came out again, with a bag over her shoulder. She took one last look around and walked with measured steps towards lichen meadows. When she was out of sight Kolgrimr also took the foot from Honeymaren's chest and pulled her up by her collar. He stood behind her in a flash and suddenly she had his long knife at her throat.

The Northuldra groaned loudly and Ryder sank to his knees in desperation. “I have no intention of killing her,” Kolgrimr shouted to the Northuldra gathered around him. “But for now, I'll keep her as hostage, you hear? Don't get any stupid ideas or you will bitterly regret it!”

Then he lowered his head to her left ear grinning and whispered in low voice, “You won't die, dearie, not yet. You will help me to bring the Arendellian royalty back to me, specially your beloved snow queen.”

All her hope seemed lost now; she thought. She realized, that she was helplessly at his mercy now. She felt his hard grip pressing her against his chest and the deadly sharp knife at her throat. Tears began to flow down her cheeks and she trembled in fear.

When Kolgrimr finally started to move and to direct her into the woods she throwed to her brother a last glance. He still kneeled on the floor, staring at her desparately. Maybe this was the last goodbye.

Her lips silently formed her last words to him, “I love you, little brother.”

~~~

---

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know, except you are already tagged :-)

Announcement : Tomorrow a little surprise is waiting for you, so don't forget to check my blog. By the way, I plan this also for the change to the future parts, always one day later than usual. Just now part two has started... At this point I would also like to thank all those readers who have liked my story so far without comments, but are still there and also my new blog followers. THANK YOU guys!

Tagging: @karma26 @whether-near-to-me-or-far @annaofthenorthernlights @igotelsapregnanthelp

#frozen #frozen2 #frozen3 #fanfic #epic novel #the broken bridge #part two #chapter 13 #bigfrozenfan

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kasienda · 3 years

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A Miraculous Reveal - New York

Ack! Apparently, I remembered to post this one to discord, but not to tumblr. I apologize to my tumblr followers if they only get stuff here. But here it is now! It’s a Ladynoir angst to happy ending reveal based on the New York Special. Please enjoy.

___

Adrien slipped into the silver limo and the door thudded closed behind him with a finality that made Marinette flinch. A moment later, the car pulled out onto the road. Watching the vehicle fade away into the grey haze of drizzly rain, two things were suddenly very clear to her.

She didn’t want Adrien to go. He was precious to her in a way that she could not define. He possessed an unending patience, he had the sweetest and softest smiles for her even when she was babbling or stuttering incoherently, and he was kind. She just didn’t know a lot of boys who were just so genuinely compassionate. She clearly had never really gotten over her crush on him despite her best efforts.

But in that moment as the car turned around a corner and completely out of sight, it was surprisingly easy to imagine her life without him. If Adrien disappeared she would grieve, but she would heal, and she would be okay.

No, the gaping hole in her chest had an entirely different source.

It was Chat Noir that she did not know how to live without.

Read on Ao3

Because it was Chat Noir who had her back every time hers was against a wall, Chat Noir who made her laugh when life seemed impossible to face, Chat Noir who offered her advice and insight whenever she asked even when it was about her feelings for someone else, and Chat Noir who built her up and encouraged her in her lowest moments.

And she was never going to see him again.

Marinette fell to her knees, barely noticing the unforgiving impact of the cement below or the cold water seeping up her pant legs from the ground. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks in contrast with the sky’s frigid rain drops. Her whole form trembled like a leaf in an autumn storm as her tears finally caught up to her.

She gripped his ring in her fist, its edges biting into her palm. It was wrong that she had it. It was his. But she couldn’t return it to him. She didn’t know his name. She didn’t know anything about him.

And now he was gone.

It wasn’t fair. Hadn’t she done everything right? She tried to be responsible, she always followed the rules, and she sacrificed so much of her normal life to make sure she could be the heroine that Paris needed. Why had everything blown up in her face so colossally?

Chat Noir was gone.

He had supported her through her worst mistakes. Had he not trusted her to do the same for him?

A warmth cuddled at her neck in contrast to the cold damp air around them. “Marinette?”

“I-I’m sorry, Tikki,” Marinette choked out, as she turned away from the red kwami on her shoulder. “I can’t do this anymore. Not… not without him.”

A black streak flew in front of her face. “Then why’d you yell at him?” Plagg demanded.

Her vision was too blurry with tears to make the kwami of destruction come into focus. “Because I was angry! I didn’t think he’d leave!” she countered sharply. “I had every right to be mad at him, Plagg. He promised me that he’d protect Paris in my absence. And then he didn’t.”

To her shock, the kwami wilted like a plant without water. “That… might have been my fault.”

“Plagg?” Tikki asked, a disapproval to her voice that Marinette rarely heard. “What did you do?!”

The miniature cat whirled to face his opposite. “You don’t understand! He never gets to have any fun! He’s always locked up! Every moment of almost every day is planned and scheduled. He’s not allowed to spend time on his hobbies if they are not pre-approved. He doesn’t get to just hang out with his friends! It’s amazing he manages to sneak away to become Chat Noir when he needs to!” He rose and fell in the damp air with a deep sigh.

“He’s my chosen, Tikki,” Plagg continued, his voice more subdued. “He deserves to have freedom.” He said it like a wish.

Salty tears flooded Marinette’s eyes all over again. Her partner didn’t have any freedom in his life? She hadn’t realized. He had always seemed so carefree. He seemed like such a goofball. But she had never asked.

How could she not have known? She should have known.

But they weren’t supposed to know anything about each other.

Another sob threatened to erupt from her throat. She fought it down.

Plagg continued. “A chance for a vacation popped up and he wasn’t going to go! He was all disgusting like, ‘I promised Ladybug I’d be here.’ I may have convinced him that the risk was really small, that he could watch the news constantly on the trip, and hurry back if anything happened.”

Tikki’s antennae vibrated back and forth in agitation.

“And it would have worked if there hadn’t also been villains here. How was I supposed to know that New York was infested with a cesspool of villains and subpar heroes?!” Plagg demanded with all the self righteousness of a wounded animal.

Marinette absorbed this new information stoically. The drizzling rain was starting to soak through her clothes and hair, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“He deserved the chance to go, too!” Plagg insisted childishly. “Why did your chosen get to go, and mine didn’t? And it’s not like you didn’t know he was here, Tikki! You’re so quick to point fingers after the fact.”

Tikki opened her mouth to argue, but Marinette put a hand up. “It doesn’t matter. He made his choice.” She honestly didn’t know if she was referring to his choice to go to New York, or to his choice to give up his miraculous. “And now, I have no way of finding him.”

And she dissolved into shaking sobs again. “It’s not fair,” she cried. “W-why did I have to realize that I loved him now? When it’s too late.”

She leaned back against a brick wall, the rain still falling down around her. Her pigtails were weeping with excess water. Her lined jacket faired a little better. The cold wet at least hadn’t seeped down to her skin yet.

Plagg zipped up to her face, his eyes searching her face. “You love him?” he whispered. “Chat Noir, him?”

Marinette just dissolved into a new round of wracking sobs.

The tiny catlike kwami patted her cheek. “It’s not too late!” he insisted. “I can help you find him. We’ll give him back the miraculous together.”

Marinette tried to stamp out the hope that sprouted in her chest at those words.

“She can’t know who he is!” Tikki objected.

Plagg whirled to face his counterpart. “Why not?” he asked seriously. “The old man’s gone. She’s the Guardian now.”

Marinette buried her head into her sopping wet knees. Her throat closed off again, making words impossible.

Tikki had no trouble forming words, however. “It’s still a risk. She’s been akumatized, Plagg! She almost handed her earrings right over. And if Chat Noir were akumatized she would be the only defense against unlimited destruction!”

Plagg hissed in displeasure. “Did it ever occur to you that they might be less vulnerable to akumas if they knew each other?!”

“Please stop arguing,” Marinette begged.

Both kwamis instantly stilled.

“I don’t know if I should know who he is yet. But I do know that I can’t be Ladybug without him.”

“But Marinette!” Tikki objected.

Marinette held up her hand. “I don’t want to stop being Ladybug, Tikki. So we need to get Chat back somehow.”

Plagg spun in a happy circle. “I always knew I liked you, Pigtails.”

“Do you have any ideas, Plagg?” Marinette asked, finally letting the sapling of hope in her chest grow unfettered. “Do you know where he’s headed? Is he close enough that you could go directly to him?”

“I don’t think I could get to the airport before he gets on a plane. But it doesn’t matter because I don’t think he’ll take me back. Even if I bring the ring with me. As long as he thinks you’re still mad at him he’s going to reject me.”

“Oh! I am furious with him!” she growled. “But I don’t want him to quit!” And then her face lit up. “That’s it!”

“What’s your plan?” Tikki asked excitedly, spinning around in anticipation.

She turned to her friend and confidant. “You know where he’s going, too, right?”

“The airport. But Marinette, Plagg is right. I likely can’t get to him before the plane takes off, and what if the earrings fell into the wrong hands along the way?!”

“So, you’re saying that I can only go to him once we get home?” Marinette asked, her voice heavy with disappointment. “But…”

“Ladybug?” A warm synthetic voice chimed in. “I need your help.”

Marinette started, whirling toward the mechanical voice behind her. “Uncanny Valley?”

“The akuma is back and it’s gotten worse. I need your help,” the other hero told her without preamble.

Marinette’s chest tightened in panic. She couldn’t face an akuma. Not right now.

Not without her partner.

“I… I want to help,” Marinette confided. “But… I can’t… Not without him.”

Uncanny Valley smiled. “I can help with that.”

…

Adrien leaned forward in the padded seat on his father’s private chartered plane, his head tucked between his knees as he silently berated himself for every decision he had made over the last three days.

What had he been thinking? He had known Ladybug was out of town and that Paris was undefended. And he had gone anyway.

And Paris had paid the price.

Just so he could have a few days in New York with his friends. How ridiculously irresponsible and childish of him.

The resulting damage to Paris could not be undone.

He buried his fists into his hair, tugging at the golden strands in self-loathing frustration.

And then, once in New York, he had almost failed in the worst way possible. He had almost killed Ladybug. His partner!

The woman he still loved despite trying to move on.

And if he had, he’s not sure how he ever would have recovered. If it hadn’t been for Uncanny Valley absorbing his cataclysm, everything would have been lost.

Everything.

And that was on him.

Uncanny Valley had died to save everyone.

He had killed her. He hadn’t meant to. But he had still taken a life with his own power. Even if it was an accident. He had killed someone. Chat Noir was supposed to be a good guy, a hero, and he had killed someone. And not just anyone.

Aeon.

The bright and precious girl that had been following Jess around the whole trip. Ladybug’s charm may have brought the girl back, but it could never erase the moment when the dark haired girl had lain in her mother’s arms, unmoving, from his mind’s eye.

Frustrated tears leaked from his eyes, and his form shook silently.

He knew he wasn’t worthy of being Chat Noir.

Not anymore. His selfish choice to go on a school field trip had ruined everything.

His father was right about him.

Dear god, he didn’t want to face his father.

He dreaded arriving home. He knew that his life was different now. He had no way to escape his hollow and empty room at any time of day or night, no Plagg to keep him company, and he would no longer be able to hang out with or help his lady.

He knew would see her. It would be impossible not to. She still lived in Paris, and Hawkmoth was still at large. But it would be from a distance, and even if they happened to be in the same place at the same time, she wouldn’t know that it was him.

But he couldn’t bring himself to grieve those pieces yet. Because that was only being selfish. And being selfish is what caused the whole disaster in the first place.

A loud pop interrupted his internal self loathing. The air around him was suddenly roaring with the change in pressure. It lasted only for a moment, before everything went still again.

He turned around. Uncanny Valley stood before him with a bright metallic smile.

He smiled back, tears burning at the edges of his green eyes at seeing her unharmed once again.

She stared at him for a moment without saying anything before holding out a familiar octagonal black box.

“Your services are needed, Chat Noir.”

He stiffened at the address. She knew. Knew that he was the one that had killed her and she had come to him anyway.

Adrien held up his hands defensively and took a step back. “No, I am not worthy of the ring.”

She should know that better than anyone.

Her silver smile never faltered. “Good thing I didn’t bring a ring, then.”

She held out the miraculous box again.

His curiosity got the better of him, and he opened the box despite his reservations, only to drop it to the ground immediately at sight of the spotted earrings.

Adrien was already shaking his head when the swirl of pink sparkles diminished revealing the red kwami he had met only once before.

“She can’t give me her miraculous!” he screamed. “Tikki! What is she thinking?! She knows that I’m irresponsible and can’t be trusted! I proved that today!”

“Adrien,” Tikki soothed, holding her tiny hands out in a placating gesture. “I need you to calm down.”

“You want me to be calm?!” He was shaking like a jet engine. “Tikki, I almost killed her today. Me,” he stabbed his own thumb into his chest. “I did that. It was only because of her,” he gestured wildly toward Uncanny Valley, “that I didn’t.”

“It was an accident, and it turned out okay,” Tikki reassured.

“It almost didn’t,” he repeated stubbornly, letting himself fall back into his seat with his hands clenched into fists.

“Who are you talking to?” Uncanny Valley asked him, her head cocked to the side in confusion.

His green eyes darted towards the other hero for a second, and then back to the red kwami. “Tikkis is the kwami that is bonded with the creation miraculous?”

“What is a kwami? I’m unfamiliar with this classification.”

“She can’t perceive me because we are invisible to cameras,” Tikki explained impatiently.

“Kwamis are like spirits or gods of an idea. Every miraculous has one. They embody the jewelry with their powers,” Adrien explained.

“Fascinating,” Uncanny commented. “What does this creature look like?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Tikki interjected. “Can you please tell her to just playback Ladybug’s message?”

“Ladybug left me a message?” he prompted.

“Yes, of course!” Uncanny held her mouth open, but it was Ladybug’s voice that filled up the room.

“Chaton, I…” her voice trembled, and he knew she was barely holding back tears. “I don’t know what to say to you. I just… I need you to come back. I don’t know how to do this without you…” she trailed off, breaking into a sob.

His throat dropped painfully into his chest. He had made his lady cry. Even after everything, it was her voice that could break him.

She managed to recover, and continued, her voice harder. “I was angry with you for leaving Paris when you said you would be there,” she paused for a second. He could picture her glaring holes through his mask too easily. “But I am more angry that you left me today. How could you do that?” she raged. “When things get hard, when we make mistakes, I need you more! I need you to step up! Not run away.”

“I can’t do this without you,” and here her tone had shifted once again. Now, she was all business, all confident Ladybug with a convoluted plan that would bring everything together. He couldn’t suppress the fond smile that sprouted across his face. “So, I’ve decided that I’m not going to.

“I quit,” she said firmly and decisively.

Wait! What?! But she couldn’t do that! Paris needed her! No one could replace Ladybug.

“Now there’s no one to protect Paris or New York except you. Good luck!”

Uncanny Valley closed her mouth, the recording finished, and looked at him expectantly.

He knew Ladybug was manipulating him, but god damn it, he was never not going to do what she wanted.

He wiped tears from his face that he hadn’t realized he had cried. “She can’t give up, Tikki,” he sobbed. “I’ll go today if she needs me. I will go and return her earrings, but she needs to find a new partner. I definitely don’t deserve any miraculous.”

Tikki shot up to his face. “Adrien! This isn’t about what you deserve or don’t! This is about what she needs! And she needs you! You are her opposite and her partner. You cannot just be replaced. That’s not how this works!”

“She deserves better,” he insisted again, like a broken record.

“Do you not want to be Chat Noir anymore?” the tiny bug asked softly.

He sighed. “Of course I want to be Chat Noir, but there’s a difference between what I want and what is best for everyone! I proved over the last few days that I can’t be trusted not to make selfish choices!”

“That right there is proof you can be trusted!”

Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed together in genuine confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’re willing to step down and pass on your position to another, even though you don’t really want to because you think that’s what’s best. That’s the opposite of selfish, Adrien.”

“But how can she trust me anymore? I let her down,” he whispered.

Tikki spiraled in the air in clear agitation. “Do you think you’re the first miraculous holder to make a huge mistake? Ladybug screwed up just last month and Master Fu’s identity and safety was compromised! And as a result, every temporary hero’s identity was revealed!”

“But that was an accident!” he growled back.

The kwami whipped up to his face.

“Exactly! It was an accident!”

He felt like she had just punched him.

“And Master Fu responded to her mistake by making her the Guardian!”

The kwami pulled herself back with a sigh, her tone once again soft and patient. “Because he was wise enough to know that the biggest mistakes often result in the greatest learning! And that Ladybug is not defined by her mistakes.

“And you aren’t either, Adrien. Ladybug can trust you more after you’ve made this mistake and learned from it, than she could before you ever made it.”

She paused for a moment as if searching for words. Then she darted right back into his personal space. “Never making mistakes does not make you worthy of your miraculous. Learning from your inevitable mistakes and taking responsibility for them is what makes you the perfect holder of the black cat.”

He hung his head. He wanted to believe Tikki. He did. Then everything could go back to normal.

“Do you believe in her or not?” Tikki asked into the silence.

“More than anything on this earth.” The words left him in a whisper.

“Well then!” Tikki continued passionately. “Believe that she’s right when she says that you are needed.”

Adrien wanted to argue. He feared Ladybug was wrong about him, and he was positively terrified of disappointing her all over again.

But if her message was to be believed it was his leaving that disappointed her the most.

He sighed, feeling emotionally exhausted and battered, but he couldn’t argue anymore. Tikki has definitely given him a lot more to think about. “And here I was thinking you would be nicer than Plagg.”

“What?!” Tikki screeched indignantly, shooting up another foot into the air. “I’m definitely the nice one!”

He shook his head in disagreement even as he smiled, enjoying the rare chance to rib a kwami even if it wasn’t the one who gave him a hard time constantly.

“So, how do I find her?” he asked.

“It won’t be hard,” Uncanny Valley interjected. “You just need to go where the akuma is.”

He launched himself to his feet. “There’s an akuma?! Why didn’t either of you lead with that?!” he demanded even as he rapidly thrust the earring posts into his ears.

“Tikki! Spots on!” The creative energies crackled over his form, feeling somehow warm and soft, so unlike his normal destructive power. He stuffed down all his doubts and self-loathing. That could all wait.

There was an akuma to fight.

And his lady needed him.

…

“Watch out!”

Lady Noire dropped to the concrete, cursing the non specificity of the warning. Chat would have told her left or right, up or down in the same number of words. The blast of power rushed over her head and missed her, if only just, so she supposed she couldn’t complain. At least she had an ally in Sparrow. It was better than facing this akuma alone.

Because this akuma - she was blanking on his name. Techno something? But didn’t it also have something to do with the Miraculous? It didn’t matter! Lady Noire couldn’t keep it all straight! That’s what Chat and his love of comics and manga was for! The point was, whatever his name, this akuma sucked!

She vaulted upwards, launching herself from the ground to a street lamp, to one of the lower buildings in the forest of skyscrapers.

Remaining at street level was dangerous. There were too many alleyways and blocked sight lines. But leaping from rooftop to rooftop was almost as bad because it left no places to hide, no options for cover even if she could see all her adversaries coming. And she had to fend off Majestia, Knight Owl, and the akuma on miraculous steroids simultaneously.

At least she was in the clear for the moment. There was no sign of any of them. A distant crash thundered. Lady Noire sighed. Majestia was probably destroying more buildings trying to flush them out.

“Hey, Lady Cat!” Sparrow called. “Follow me!” Then she ducked through an open window a dozens of stories off the ground into a conference room of some sort.

And with another sigh, Lady Noire did just that. She and Sparrow huddled with their heads together out of sight, crafting a new strategy. And again, with Chat, the conversation would have been unnecessary. He could glean her plans from a gesture or three words of explanation.

But she and Sparrow didn’t have that level of intuitive communication. Lady Noire liked Sparrow. The Parisian hero related to the other girl’s desire to prove herself, and she knew the other girl's heart was in the right place. But they didn’t have any experience with each other.

So it took thirty seconds of rapidly exchanged words before they were on the same page and back in the air fighting. It had only been thirty seconds, but how many buildings had Majestia managed to demolish in that time?

Lady Noire honestly didn’t have time to count, as she ducked under yet another projectile - this one launched at her by Knight Owl.

The time delay had been worth it though. She and Sparrow were tag teaming better, grabbing the brainwashed heroes’ attention before they could take out their compromised morals on the city too badly, and covering each other’s back when their three adversaries converged on one of them.

But every move was defensive. They had no plan for an offensive strike. It was all they could do to not get hit by the akuma’s beam.

She wished Chat Noir was there.

She was certain he would come back. He would never leave her hanging. She had absolutely no doubt.

But would he make it back in time? Before her luck ran out completely?

She pounced out of the way of another strike, only to dodge into the blow of another. She had time to curse her mistake, but no time to course correct.

Just when she thought it was over, a flash of red body-slammed her into a third direction.

Relief flooded through her at the familiar sensation of his form pressed against her own. They both readily rolled to their feet, and slid into fighting stances side by side.

“You okay?” he called.

She flashed him a huge grin. “Never better, bugaboy!” Now that he was here.

And unlike the first time they had swapped kwamis, they were perfectly in sync. Even for them, it was impressive. It felt like she could read his mind and he hers.

Or maybe, it was just the contrast of working with Sparrow. Or was her name Eagle now?

Whatever the case, she could feel the difference. Chat Noir was her partner, her other half. He had stolen her heart somewhere along the way, and she couldn’t wait to tell him, even if she would never hear the end of it.

He called for a lucky charm, and she jutted her chin towards a parked taxi cab. He flashed her a grin, and dove into action. And that’s what she meant. He just understood.

“Sorry, Miraclonizer,” Mr. Bug called to the akuma an instant before Lady Noire shot out of the cab and cataclysmed his object. “Third time was not your charm.”

Majestia and Knight Owl cornered the healed villain within seconds of Mr. Bug purifying the butterfly and healing the city.

But Lady Noire paid none of them any mind. She launched herself into her partner’s arms the second it was safe to do so. He caught her as if she weighed nothing, absorbing her momentum with a twirl before pulling her against him.

She had never felt safer.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she told him, her voice hard. It was the only defense she had against immediately dissolving into a puddle of tears at his feet.

“I wouldn’t dream of it m’lady,” he breathed into her braid. “Shall we go somewhere to talk?”

She nodded into his shoulder. “Go, recharge Tikki. And then we’ll meet up on the Statue of Liberty?”

She bounded away without a word to the American heroes, before ducking into a secluded alleyway three blocks away and letting her transformation shimmer away.

“I don’t have any cheese,” she reported solemnly as she offered one of Tikki’s cookies to the limp kwami that had just fallen into her hands.

“I’ll live,” he replied gruffly, eying the proffered pink macaron suspiciously as if she were offering him poison. He took it, flipped it over and inspected it, before taking the smallest of nibbles.

She sighed. “I’ve seen you inhale cheese, Plagg. I don’t suppose I could bribe you with a promise of a wheel of Camembert later to just hold your nose and inhale that, now?”

“What’s your rush, Pigtails?” he asked, taking another infinitesimally small bite. “The akuma has been defeated already. Your job is done.”

“I just…” she looked away. “I don’t want him to spook.”

Which was a lie. She knew he’d be there. But she… she had lost him today. He walked away once. He might do it again. She wouldn’t feel secure until she had seen him, until he had promised with more than words that he wasn’t going anywhere.

He eyed her. “You can trust him, you know. He’ll wait for you.”

“Like I could trust him to protect Paris in my absence?” she bit back.

Plagg said nothing. Just took another tiny bite if one could call it that.

She sighed, idly running her fingernail along the alley brick wall. “I’m sorry. I’m trying not to be angry. I don’t want him to run again.”

“You don’t have to be what others expect you to be, you know.”

Her eyes whipped to the kwami floating in the dim light of a flickering street lamp. “What do you mean?”

He darted around in an animated circle. “You don’t have to be the bigger person. You can be angry. He can take it. He has lots of practice.”

She hissed at those words, hating that any piece of them could be true, and that she still didn’t know enough about his civilian life to refute or understand them.

“But this isn’t about him, or your feelings for him,” Plagg continued. “This has nothing to do with him at all. This has to do with you being the Guardian.”

She frowned. “I’m not following.”

“You don’t have to be what Paris expects you to be. Or what Chat Noir expects you to be. You don’t have to be what Master Fu expected you to be either.”

Her eyes watered unexpectedly at the mention of her old mentor.

“You just have to be you,” Plagg concluded.

Her knuckles buried themselves into her eyes, as she tried to fight back tears. “But I keep messing up.”

“That’s because you’re trying to follow the rules instead of following your instincts!”

“A hero thinks with her brain, not her heart!” she countered hotly.

“No! You need to think with your gut! Your brain is not what helps you decipher Tikki’s charms. I love her, but that girl can be obtuse! No, you have to follow your intuition, and trust that even if you don’t know what the final piece is when you’re halfway through some convoluted plan, you’ll recognize it when you see it.”

She bit her lip, considering his words. His description of unraveling the mystery of a lucky charm wasn’t wrong.

“Like, why didn’t you bring the horse miraculous on this trip? I know you thought about it!”

Her eyes narrowed at his tone.“Because Master Fu said that having too many miraculouses out and active was too risky!” she began defensively.

“You already proved that your determination, creativity, and your faith in your partner was more effective than that old man’s paranoia when you defeated Feast.”

The miniature floating cat took another crumb off Tikki’s cookie. “The old man is gone! You need to figure out your own way of doing things. His ways won’t work for you because you’re not him.”

“But… I’m just a teenager. I don’t know what I’m doing. He had so much more experience. He kept you all safe for centuries. Who am I to say that his methods were wrong?”

“Who are you?” Plagg repeated indignantly. “You are Ladybug! You have never lost. You are now the Guardian. You are Marienette Dupain-Cheng who is quite accomplished in her own right!”

Her eyes burned at the praise. And coming from Plagg who pretended he didn’t care about anything? Well, that meant a lot to her. Especially today when she was feeling so raw and like she had screwed up just for coming on this trip at all.

“And just so you know, Master Fu took on the role of the Guardian when he was twelve. He didn’t know what he was doing either. He made tons of mistakes. You will too, but they don’t have to be the same ones.”

Marinette leaned up against the wall behind her, carefully considering every word. “Why are you telling me all this?” she whispered.

He flipped the cookie over on its end and nibbled into the untouched end. Really, the whole cookie looked unmarred. They were going to be here all night.

“You brought my kid back. You didn’t let him go. I figure I owe you a favor.”

She smiled softly. “You seem to care about him a lot.”

He frowned. “He gives me only the finest of camembert!” he gushed. “Not every holder can pull that off, you know.”

Marinette reached out and scratched the little cat behind his ear, and to her delight he leaned into the caress and purred. She suspected Chat Noir meant far more to the kwami than cheese, but she wasn’t going to call him out on it.

“Tikki says you can’t ever take anything seriously.”

He looked affronted. “I can be serious!” he argued. “When it’s important!”

She giggled. “I can see that,” she conceded. “Thanks, Plagg! I think I needed to hear this.”

“Like I said, I owed you a favor. It’s nothing more than that.”

“Oh, of course,” she agreed readily, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

He popped the rest of the cookie in his mouth, and gulped it down in one swallow.

“So are we going to go meet my kid or what?” Plagg asked. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting all night! He’s going to think you’re still mad at him or something.”

“Are you serious right now?” she screeched, staring at the stoic kwami in complete disbelief. “You were just pretending you had to eat that cookie so slowly?”

He did the kwami equivalent of a shrug. “You asked me to hurry it up. And I did! Don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“Oh my god! You’re impossible!”

“Still waiting on you, Pigtails,” he countered smugly.

“Plagg, claws out!” she growled out, his laughter echoing in the humid frigid air around her even after he was sucked into the ring.

Dark crackling energy enveloped her body from head to toe, thrumming with raw power and energy. Her normal transformation felt warm and comforting. And the black cat wasn’t cold - it was more like lightning. And once her transformation was complete she just needed to move, to run, to pounce, to be free.

She vaulted from the ground, shooting off towards the monument of liberty that she could see clearly now that it had stopped raining, eager and excited to speak with her partner.

As she approached, she could see he was already there - a spot of red that stood out against the green of the statue’s oxidized copper. He was sitting under that railing of Lady Liberty’s torch, his legs dangling playfully over the edge.

She vaulted up and landed next to him in a feline crouch.

“M’lady!” he greeted brightly as if they hadn’t planned on meeting not twenty minutes prior. “I was starting to get worried. What happened?”

“Plagg happened,” she growled. “Apparently, he eats cookies really really really slowly.”

He laughed. And god, it was a gorgeous sound. One that she would never take for granted again. “Yeah, he’s pretty annoying when it comes to food.”

She sat down next to him, closer than she normally would have, wanting to have him close. She crossed her legs at the ankles and they stayed relatively calm compared to his active swinging. Neither of them spoke for a minute, they were just staring over the city of lights. The city that was not their own, but they had just saved.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the silence.

His spring-green eyes snapped to her in surprise. “For?”

“For coming back,” she told him simply, still not daring to look at him. If she looked at him she was fairly certain she would cry. And while tears were likely inevitable this evening, she didn’t want to start off with them.

“I’m sorry for ever leaving,” he told her solemnly.

“It’s…” she broke off. She was going to say that it was okay, but it wasn’t. “Thank you for saying that,” she said instead. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said immediately. Her eyes jumped towards his face, surprised at his total lack of hesitation. He gazed back at her, his face calm and serene as the breeze that swept across their cheeks.

“You don’t want to know what it is first?” she asked.

He shook his head with a soft smile. The expression almost seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “I already know I would do almost anything for you, M’lady. I thought you would have known that by now. And the one or two things I wouldn’t be able to do, you would never ask.”

Heat bloomed across her cheeks at his raw faith in her. She was never certain how she had earned it.

“What did you want to ask?” he prompted when she still didn’t explain.

“Just that… next time, if there’s a next time, which I hope there won’t be,” she rambled. “But if there is a next time, can you please talk to me first? Before you make your decision?”

He stared at her for a second. “Next time for what?” he finally asked.

She glanced at him, then looked back down to her knees. “A next time you want to quit…”

“Oh…”

And then he said nothing. And she couldn’t stand it. Her gloved fingers writhed in her lap.

“It’s just… you left without letting me say goodbye,” she confessed, her voice softer than the cold breeze. But she knew he could hear her. She looked back at him again, gauging his face for a reaction, but for once she couldn’t read him. “I…” she bit her lower lip in thought, and looked back down. “I don’t want you to be trapped in this. You’re never obligated to continue, but…”

His hand, gloved in red and black, reached out to hers soothingly. “But?”

Emerald green eyes blinked at her from behind a spotted mask, and she found herself missing the vertical pupils that came from wearing the black cat miraculous. When had his eyes stopped looking alien and strange to her? When had they become a source of comfort?

“If you ever want to stop doing this, please… just let me say… goodbye,” she choked out over the massive rock that had just lodged itself in her throat. Hot tears fell from her eyes, over her mask. She hated crying in the mask.

He pulled her against him, she felt safe and warm in his arms. Her body responded by convulsing harder with wracking sobs. He rubbed her back soothingly, and rocked her back and forth.

“Oh bug, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, and then he kissed the crown of her head. “Of course I promise.”

“The last thing I said to you was out of anger,” she sobbed into his chest.

“Shhh… it’s okay. I’m right here. And I know you,” and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You were never going to let that be our last conversation. I’m apparently really bad at staying away even when I think it’s for the best.”

She stilled at his words, at the self deprecation in his tone. “Do you…?” she hesitated, carefully keeping her head down and not looking at his face. “Do you still... think it would be best for you to give up the miraculous?”

He didn’t say anything.

And suddenly, despite his arm around her shoulders, the night was freezing once again, overcast, dark, and grey.

“Chaton?” she prompted. She was terrified of what he might say, but she had to know. She had to know if she could rely on him.

His head dropped, his forehead rested against the top of her braid. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “In the moment that I renounced Plagg, I did it because I just didn’t see any path back for me. I just kept making mistake after mistake. I didn’t want to keep letting you down.”

“You didn’t let me down,” she objected automatically.

Her partner laughed, but there was no amusement here. It was not the bright, rich laugh that came from his belly that she coveted and cherished. This laugh was bitter and dark.

She huffed out a sigh. “Okay! Fine, you let me down, but not in some irreparable sense that you seem to be thinking.”

His arms tightened around her. “I almost killed you today,” he whispered so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

She sat up then, and traced the sides of his downturned face in both of her hands. She urged his gaze up to hers and waited until he was looking at her before speaking. “But you didn’t.” Her voice didn’t waiver.

His lower lip trembled and soon his whole body was quaking. She jerked him into her arms, and his head came to rest on her bony shoulder.

“I… I don’t know… w-what I would do… if I lost you,” he gasped out between sobs.

“You’re the one that was going to leave,” she couldn’t help but point out dryly.

His nose burrowed deeper into her shoulder. “Only because I am afraid that at some point I will screw up so badly, but instead of me… you’ll be the one to pay the price. I don’t want to be your partner if I am not the best one to protect you. You’re too important to me to let my ego or selfish tendencies get in the way.”

Her arms tightened around him.

He looked up at her then. His eyes were glassy and as green as new spring grass. “But then Tikki said some things that made me think about it differently. That maybe coming back was more important?”

He said it like it was a question. That he needed her confirmation more than anything.

“Kitty, I don’t know how to convince you. I know you won’t be perfect. I won’t be perfect either. I know our mistakes have very real consequences for more than just us. And I would definitely appreciate it in the future, if anything that affects our responsibility changes, you would tell me rather than pretend like everything was taken care of.”

He nodded in agreement.

“But you are it for me! I cannot do this with anyone else because you are the only person who was here with me through this whole crazy thing, the only person who has believed in me even before I believed in myself! You are the person that I trust the most. The only person that can really understand my life. That’s why today was so hard. I…” She broke off into tears.

She started sobbing uncontrollably, harder than either time before. Her throat was tight, and she felt like there was no air. She couldn’t talk, but she desperately needed him to hear these ones.

“I… thought I was… n-never going to see you again,” she choked out.

His hands traced her jaw as his thumbs brushed away her tears. “Do you want to know who I am?” he asked, his eyes serious.

She laughed hysterically through her tears. Of course she wanted to know; she had always wanted to know. But she was still scared. Plagg’s advice about being in her own kind of Guardian warred with every word of caution Master Fu and Tikki had ever given her. Because learning who he was wasn’t something they could take back.

She needed to think about this very carefully. But she wanted to just know. And she wanted to tell him.

“I’m serious,” he told her. “I will tell you right now. You don’t even have to reciprocate.”

She sucked in a breath, trying to calm her racing heart, and smiled brightly at him. She wanted to give into his offer with every fiber of his being. But even if she wasn’t scared to know anymore, it was still probably wise to give it careful consideration before rushing into anything.

“I know who you are,” she told him.

He started. “Y-you do? What gave me away?”

Her smile grew, and her fingertips traced the side of his face. “No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t know your identity. But I do know you. You’re my partner. And my best friend. The boy I trust more than anyone else on this planet. And the most important person in my life. I know your heart.” She placed her other hand on his chest. His heart was racing, too. “I know you.”

She leaned forward before she could think about it too much. He met her halfway.

His lips were chapped, and his breath tasted of mint. His fingers found a home in the small of her back while hers became tangled in his golden locks. Everything about their contact was warm, sweet, and soft.

She didn’t want the moment to end.

It was perfect.

So when he started to pull away, her hands held him in place. And she could feel him smile against her lips.

She finally pulled away with a gasp, and only because she had to breathe at some point, and she was rewarded with a dopey grin on his face with his masked eyes still slitted closed.

She watched him fondly for a few seconds, her giddy smile likely echoing his own. But when he didn’t move, and he didn’t open his eyes, she grew impatient.

“Chaton? You still there?” she teased lightly.

“Yes, m’lady!” he answered brightly. But his eyes remained stubbornly closed.

She poked him in the shoulder. “Why are your eyes still closed?”

He sighed happily. “Because I’m trying to memorize the best moment in my life so I can replay it later when I need it.”

She snorted. “I can’t believe I fell in love with such a dork.”

His green eyes snapped open. “You love me?” he breathed out as if he could scarcely believe it.

She curled her hands around his again. “Where the hell have you been?” she demanded. “Did Uncanny Valley not play you my message?”

“She did, but…”

“And you were here for that confession and kiss, right? You remember it? You weren’t under some akuma’s control or anything?”

He shook his head, even as his fingers tightened around hers. “No, but you didn’t say love,” he objected.

She turned towards him again. “Chaton, the boy I told you about, the one I told you I loved?”

He went rigid, his expression suddenly carefully neutral. “What about him?” he asked casually.

“He came on this trip with me,” she explained. “But today he left. I watched him drive away and it felt like he was leaving me. And it was hard. But it barely registered in comparison to the devastation I felt listening to your echoing footsteps fade away after you left your miraculous behind.”

His gaze dropped to their joined hands. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “I’m not trying to make you feel more guilty. I just… that’s how I knew.”

She turned and kneeled before him, still not letting go of his hands. “I had to let go of both of you today,” she told him. “But you were the one where that did not feel possible. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the lines you snuck into my heart, made it your own, and I don’t want you to leave.

“Because I love you,” she whispered.

His eyes turned glassy, but he was smiling. “I love you, too.”

She couldn’t stand to see him crying even if they were tears of joy. So she leaned forwards and kissed him again. And then again and again until she lost count and they were both giggling like children.

“What does this mean?” he asked her later, when they were giggled out, and her head rested against his shoulder once again.

She sighed. What she wouldn’t give to just be! Be here and now, and not have to worry about Paris or New York or decisions that she didn’t want to be the one to make! “I don’t know. I want us to be together, I think. But this is dangerous. But… Plagg said I needed to make my own rules.”

He started. “Plagg said what?”

She ignored his interjection. “And he was right! I… I’ve been trying to emulate Master Fu because he is the only example I have.”

“Plagg gave you advice…? Like useful advice?” Chat objected again.

She frowned up at him. “You’re getting distracted, kitty.”

“Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free arm. “Go on.”

“I just worry that if Hawkmoth knows we’re in love, he’ll find a way to use it against us. Love makes us strong in so many ways, but it also makes us vulnerable.”

He threaded his fingers with hers. And she had never thought she would enjoy holding hands with someone as much as she did.

“Do you really think he couldn’t have already done that before when assuming we were just friends?”

She pursed her lips, considering. She supposed he had a point. She kept her identity a secret so that Hawkmoth couldn’t get at her through her family or friends. But Chat Noir had always been a friend she couldn’t hide.

“It’s just more pronounced, I think,” she concluded.

“Would you want to keep it a secret then?” he asked, his expression betraying nothing about how he felt about that idea. But she knew that was his way of being supportive by letting her take the lead.

“Keeping our vulnerabilities secret does offer some protection. That’s the way Master Fu did it. He always stayed in the shadows and was secretive and he was able to protect the kwamis and to stay hidden for almost two centuries!”

“But?” he prompted when she stopped.

And she smiled, pleased that he could read her so well. “But we’re on the front lines. We don’t have the luxury of staying in the shadows. It’s harder to build an impenetrable wall of secrets when you have to be out in public all the time fighting monsters. When you have to balance a double life without anyone noticing. When you struggle with so much, and can’t confide in anyone, or ask anyone for support…”

And suddenly, now that she was really thinking about it, she was angry. Livid that she had been put in this situation where she was almost alone in keeping an entire city safe, and told that she could share that with no one. How long would it be before she broke? How long before she was akumatized?

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

She shook herself out of her thoughts. “Yeah, I just… I didn’t realize that I was so angry. Master Fu dumped a lot of responsibility on me without leaving any avenues of support,” and she immediately tensed realizing how her words can be misconstrued. Her eyes jerked upwards to his. “I didn’t mean you,” she told him.

He smiled. “No, I totally understand what you meant,” he assured immediately. And then his smile faded and his gaze turned distant.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Do you want to give up your miraculous?” He asked softly, clearly afraid of her answer.

She jerked back violently. “What?! No!! I can’t give it up!” Even she was startled at how visceral her reaction was. “No,” she said again, her tone more calm. “It’s hard, yes. And definitely unfair. But it would just as unfair to put this burden on someone else.”

“But do you want to be Ladybug?” he asked again, this time his green eyes were intense and insistent, rather than worried.

“I love being Ladybug,” she whispered back. “I love knowing that I have helped someone. I love being able to protect the people I care about. And well, even the challenge of figuring out how to defeat an akuma or interpret a lucky charm… It's empowering,” her voice grew louder the more she talked. “Just knowing that when the chips are down, I’m capable of thinking stuff out like that. Most people have to run when an akuma strikes, but not me. I have agency. I can do something. And I’m good at it!”

“Damn good at it!” he agreed with a huge smile.

She smirked. “And I suppose flying over the city by yoyo is pretty cool too,” she tacked on.

“I had to ask,” he told her. “I want you to know you have an out, too.”

“Thank you kitty. I appreciate that.”

“So if you’re committed to sticking it out, what do you want to do differently than Master Fu as the new Guardian?” he asked. “And whatever you decide, know that I will always support you.”

Her eyes locked onto his. “I want to trust. I want to trust you completely. Maybe others too, but I want to start with you. I don’t want there to be secrets between us.”

She felt him freeze underneath her.

“So… does that mean…” he fidgeted nervously. “Tell me if I’m jumping the gun again, but may I tell you my name?”

The question hit her like a lightning bolt, sending both her heart racing and her gut fluttering. Even though he had mentioned it earlier, this time felt different. Now, she felt ready. But she was still nervous. But not in the way that she used to be. She wasn’t worried for her friends and family because this was Chat! Her partner. He would give his life for her, she already knew. The idea even brought a sense of relief.

No, the butterflies in her stomach were more a giddy nervousness. She tried to calm herself by breathing deeply. Knowing his name wouldn’t change how she felt about him. And she had to believe that his knowing hers wouldn’t change the way he felt either.

“Only if you want to,” she said. God, she wanted him to tell her so bad, but she didn’t feel she had the right to demand anything after she had already put him off so many times.

He grinned. “I’ve always wanted to. It works out for you, too, in this case because you’ll always be able to track me down when you need to yell at me for something without having to send a third party or worry that it will be our last conversation.”

She laughed. “You sure you don’t want to wait like two weeks when we’re not so emotionally raw? When our heads are on straight?” It was the more pragmatic choice. There was no rush. They didn’t really have to burn through all the secrets between them in one evening.

He barked out a laugh of his own. “Two weeks for you to come up with a million and three reasons about how bad of an idea it is?” He shook his head, even as he chuckled. “No, I don’t really want to wait for that.”

“I’m not that bad!” she objected.

“Oh, yes, you are,” he grinned, darting in with a quick kiss to her nose, which she scrunched up in response. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

“Yeah, well! You’re so impulsive!” she countered, even as she grinned.

“And you love me anyway,” he countered, cheekily.

Heat flooded her neck and face; even her ears felt hot in the cold air. “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

“I love you, too.” His voice was so soft, like velvet, and his eyes were even softer. Love poured from them. It was so intense it was hard to maintain eye contact. She had never felt more exposed or vulnerable. He had all of her heart. He had stolen it.

But he didn’t say anything more, and it was driving her mad.

“So…” she prompted, “What’s your name?”

He started, and then grinned again. “R-right!” He cleared his throat dramatically. “Adrien.”

She reeled backwards as if burned. “W-what?!” she exclaimed. She thought she had been prepared for anything! She thought his name wouldn’t change anything.

She had been wrong.

“My name… it’s Adrien,” he repeated.

Her eyes were bugged out of her head, and her jaw was on the balcony floor. But she didn’t know what to say. It couldn’t be him, could it? That would be too simple. And too unfair all at once! The universe was clearly laughing at her. It had been laughing at her for years!

He frowned. “Is that bad?”

She could hear the tremor in his voice. God, he was freaking out. She had to fix that.

“N-no…?” she stammered. Crap! She was stammering. He was totally going to see straight through her.

Would that be so bad?

“Just… unexpected,” she said lamely.

“Were you expecting a Louis, or an Antoine?” he asked jokingly, clearly trying to bury his vulnerability in silliness, but she could see through him. He was terrified. “What name did you give me in your head?”

“Chaton,” she whispered, squeezing his head, managing to look right into his anxious eyes.

His whole form relaxed and his jokester face melted into the softest smile at her admission. And oh god, it was totally him. How had she never seen it before? She was such an idiot.

“Okay seriously,” he laughed. “What is wrong with the name Adrien?”

“Nothing!” she insisted.

He kissed the knuckles of each of her gloved hands. “Then why are you freaking out?”

So many panicked thoughts swirled through her brain just like it always did when she was trying to talk to Adrien. But this wasn’t just Adrien anymore, she reminded herself. This was her partner, her best friend, her love, and her Chaton. She had just said she wanted no more secrets between them not five minutes prior.

She took a deep breath and prayed for courage. “Adrien might be the name of the boy I had a crush on,” she admitted. Somehow, it was easier to be indirect about it even though she already knew that it was him.

“What were the chances that I have the same name as…?” And then his whole body stilled and his eyes widened. “Unless… No! I cannot be that lucky,” he mumbled more to himself than her. “But… you said…” His eyes searched hers. “You said… your crush walked away from you today. If that was me…”

And suddenly his eyes watered and he was crying again. Only this time, she had no idea what was wrong.

He couldn’t be that disappointed it was her, could he? The possibility had never occurred to her.

“Chaton? What’s wrong?”

He yanked her to him, his arms wrapped around her petite frame from both sides and he cried onto her shoulder.

“Marinette, I’m so sorry!” he sobbed.

And she shivered at her name on his lips, laden with such emotion. She felt her panic begin to fade. He definitely wasn’t disappointed.

“For?” she asked.

“I walked away from you twice today.”

And with those words the last of her fear faded away. She rubbed circles on his back. She hoped he found them soothing.

“Chaton, it’s okay,” she reassured, feeling remarkably free herself. She had managed to confess to both of the boys she loved in one go! And she was feeling much better about this whole Guardian business just as a bonus. “This makes things surprisingly simple,” she said, framing both sides of his face in her gloved hands.

He shook his head and nuzzled his cheek into one of her hands. “I don’t deserve you,” he croaked out.

She shook her head. “I think you deserve the world, Chaton. That’s why I fought so hard for you to be able to come on this trip. I just didn’t realize you were also the person that I needed to stay behind.”

He laughed through his tears. “You’re so amazing, Buginette. I have thought so this whole trip. Until I screwed up royally, I was thinking about asking you out when we got back to Paris. Marinette you, I mean.”

“R-really?!” she squeaked.

“Really!”

“What changed?” She asked. “If I recall, Chat Noir already rejected Marinette.”

“I don’t know that anything did. It’s like you said… I think you snuck in a long time ago and I just didn’t realize it because I was so focused on Ladybug.”

“Ladybug is pretty great, I guess,” she grudgingly admitted.

“Ladybug is definitely amazing! I’ve looked up to her for a long time, but Marinette… she is so much more because she fights for justice without the benefit of a mask. She always stands up when it matters. She goes out of her way to include everyone, she gives people second chances. She gave me a second chance.”

Her eyes watered with his sweet, sweet words.

“She was the first friend I really made on my own, and I think it’s one of the best things I have ever done, and I save Paris on a weekly basis!”

A laugh tore through her tears, and he smiled back.

She tilted her head up and kissed him, trying to convey how much his words meant to her. Because she could not put it into words.

“I love you,” he finished when they pulled away.

She grinned even though she was still crying. “I love you!”

She studied his face, his eyes sparkled and his mouth couldn’t stop smiling. Happiness suited him. She realized that she had never seen her partner completely one hundred percent joyful. She had never understood before that half his jokes and tendency to want to play around was one part outlet and another part defense mechanism, but now, he made so much more sense to her. And she loved him more.

She hadn’t realized that was possible.

“It makes sense now,” she confided.

“What does?”

“Your attitude and personality as Chat Noir. You barely ever are allowed anything, so of course you go a little overboard when the opportunity presents itself. Ladybug has always primarily been a duty for me. Chat Noir is freedom for you. And well, if my miraculous was the only way I got to be free, I wouldn’t listen to my kwami either.”

He laughed. “Plagg actively encourages my rebellious moments,” he said, his eyes still gleaming.

“Really?!” she scoffed. “No fair! Why did you get the fun kwami?”

“He’s not that fun,” Adrien immediately disagreed. “Quite annoying really. He goes through so much expensive cheese you wouldn’t believe it. Nathalie still asks me questions about how much cheese I buy. And he makes a point of leaving cheese crumbs everywhere, which makes everything smell weird.”

She ate up every word like a child on Christmas morning. It was so mundane, but they got to do this now! They got to share every bit of how their civilian and hero lives clashed.

“But he’s definitely the nice one,” her partner concluded.

“What?!” she screeched in mock outrage. “Blasphemy! Tikki is the sweetest!”

He grinned. “She is definitely the mean one.”

“Whatever! I guess you should give her back to me then, since you clearly don’t appreciate her!” she bantered back.

She hadn’t expected the immediate flash of pink light.

Tikki materialized a split second later, but Marinette spared no attention to her constant companion. She was looking at her unmasked partner. He stood before her, unfairly tall. His blond unstyled hair looked more like Chat’s than Adrien’s and she loved it. His cheeks were slightly pink, but his eyes…. It was like she had never seen them before, which was ridiculous because he was Adrien. She had seen them thousands of times before. But she had never seen them knowing he was her partner. They were emerald-green, and they were shining with complete trust and love, and she was lost in their depths.

She traced the curve of his jawline with a gloved hand, but her eyes never left his even when she started tearing up all over again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His golden eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. “For?”

“For making you wait so long for this moment,” she confessed. She was so mad at herself for costing them so much time when they could have been supporting each other completely in both parts of their lives.

He smiled. And she could see her kitty in his face and it was amazing!

He turned his head into the hand on his face and kissed her palm. “You had to be ready. I know I was less patient on some days, but I’m glad that we waited until we both were ready.”

Maybe he was right. It was better this way because if it had happened sooner she might have combusted realizing it was Adrien and been unable to talk to him. Or she might have been angry if he had shared before she thought it was okay. And this… this was better.

She dissolved her own transformation in a flash of green. Plagg was there immediately, glanced between them in their civilian forms, and he smirked.

“Oh thank god!” he exclaimed. That was as far as he got before Tikki swooped in, and wrestled him out of sight.

Adrien carefully took out his earrings, and they reverted to their red and black form in his hands. He held them up, gesturing to the side of her head. “May I?” he asked.

A blush bloomed across her face at the question. She nodded, not trusting herself to form words.

His bare hands gently pushed a few errant strands of her hair behind her ear, before he carefully slipped one earring into her right ear. “Thank you for making me come back and thank you for trusting me with… yourself and everything else.”

He moved to the other side of her head and slipped in the second earring just as gently. “I promise to do everything I can to live up to your trust in me.”

Then he kissed her forehead before pulling slightly away, but she captured his hand before he could escape entirely.

She caressed each finger one by one, and then took off his miraculous, which was a rose gold on her hand, but instantly turned black when it was free of her finger. She watched in fascination as it turned silver when she placed it on his finger.

“I want to thank you for always supporting me, for being patient,” she started.

“Mostly patient,” he interjected, his voice light with teasing. She pushed a finger to his lips.

“Hush! It’s your turn to listen.

He nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. It was such a Chat expression on Adrien’s face. And that made her smile.

“I want to thank you,” she began again. “For always being there when no one else was, for picking me up in my lowest moments, for giving me advice, for being a bright spot in the darkness.”

“Can I get a do over?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“Nope!” She snapped back playfully. She had loved what he had said. “And I promise to be transparent with you as the Guardian the way Fu never was.”

She kissed his hand. Then he pulled her up and his lips met hers again. He was so warm. And he was sending tingles down to her toes.

Would she ever get used to his kisses?

She hoped not.

He pulled away just slightly and her vision was filled with his green eyes. “It feels like we just got married,” he told her.

Heat rushed from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. “I don’t think I’m ready for that. But… maybe someday?” she suggested with a shy smile.

He grinned back. “I look forward to that day.”

She did, too.

…

#Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #identity reveal #ladynoir #angst #with happy happy ending #tikki gives tough love #plagg gives advice #ladynoir talk things out #A Miraculous Reveal #My Own Content

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readbythestarlight · 4 years

Text

HAPPY GOOD OMENS DAY

Title: What pairs better with me than you? Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley Summary: A sort of alternate ending/continuation of the Good Omens Lockdown short. Crowley says goodnight and hangs up, but Aziraphale finds he can't just leave it at that. Disclaimer: author knows nothing about wine pairings

cross-posted to my Ao3 (not linking here because tumblr sucks, but you can find a link to my ao3 on my blog or else look me up: emiwankenobi.)

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“…You know, I could hunker down at your place. Slither over and watch you eat cake. I could bring a bottle, a case of something drinkable?”

Aziraphale frowns, and habit brings denial to his lips before he can even think of a different reply. “No, I—I—I’m afraid that would be breaking the rules. Out of the question!” A deep breath. “I’ll see you when this is over.”

A half second of quiet before the reply comes. “Right.” Aziraphale frowns, hang on, that’s not right. “Yeah... I’m setting the alarm for July. Goodnight, Angel.”

“Hang on, Crowley,” Aziraphale begins, but the line has already clicked dead in his ear, the call disconnected before he can say anything else. He stares at the phone for a moment before slowly returning the receiver to its cradle, disappointment settling heavy in his chest. Now what on earth was that all about? Had he said the wrong thing? Crowley had certainly sounded unhappy. And for him to simply hang up like that, that wasn’t like him at all.

“I wonder what’s gotten into him,” Aziraphale muses, allowing his worry to flow from his voice into the very, very empty air of his shop.

“I’m sure he’s alright,” he added, pausing again, but of course nothing answered back. His cakes and his books were all entirely non-interested in the subject, it would seem. Aziraphale fretted.

“He needn’t have hung up like that. And really, that isn’t how it’s supposed to work,” he went on objecting aloud. He had thought—well, that had always been the way it had worked before; he would say oh no and oh dear and we couldn’t possibly—

And Crowley would counter with what if and why not and come on, Angel, and no one will know. And then, whatever it was, they would. Dinner, a concert, raising the supposed antichrist with the goal of avoiding Armageddon. At the start of every proposition he would say no, and Crowley would say but why not yes, and it was simple as that. It was a game they’d played almost since the very beginning.

But not this time, apparently, and Aziraphale can’t quite put a name to the feeling that settles in his chest at the thought. Can’t quite help but wonder why not this time.

“What has gotten into him?” he once again asks his empty shop, and once again he receives no answer. Admittedly he is rather lonely here, with no one coming and going. Even those pesky would-be thieves had been almost pleasant company after days all by himself.

“He won’t really sleep until July, will he?” he wonders aloud, and experiences a sinking feeling of certainty which he doesn’t like at all. “Oh dear.”

Without really realizing he had come to some sort of decision Aziraphale dials the only number he knows by heart for the second time this morning, his ancient phone connecting. He does not fidget with the cord while the line rings one, twice—

“What?”

The greeting is much the same as the first time he called, sharp and annoyed, and Aziraphale realizes much too late that he hasn’t actually decided what he wanted to say.

“Ah, Crowley? It’s me—sorry, yes, you know that. Um—I—you see—yes.” A painful half second’s pause. “Hello again.”

Across the line he hears a sigh, and can easily imagine Crowley pinching the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache. “Something you forgot to say, Angel?” he asks, sounding just on the edge of his patience. Aziraphale knows he needs to say something, and quickly.

“Yes, actually. Um. I forgot to mention,” he begins, stalling for time. He looks around the room for inspiration and finds it in the half eaten remains of the schwarzwälder kirschtorte. “Wine.”

“Wine.” Crowley echoes, impatience now mixing with bewilderment.

“Yes,” Aziraphale says again. “Yes, wine. You see I made a lovely schwarzwälder kirschtorte, I think I mentioned it?”

“You had to miracle the cherries, yeah,” Crowley confirms. “What’s that got to do with wine? Or me?”

“Oh, well, you see, I’m afraid that I’m running rather low on a good wine to—to pair with a few of my desserts,” Aziraphale said, absolutely refusing to acknowledge how utterly ridiculous he must sound just then. “Specifically something that pairs well with chocolate, and…”

Silence descends as he trails off, the kind filled with static from his ancient phone line and absolutely nothing else. It goes on for long enough that Aziraphale begins to wonder if maybe they’ve been disconnected—or worse, that Crowley has hung up on him again. He fidgets as he says, “Crowley?”

A stirring breaks the silence. “Yeah. Yeah, Angel, I’m here.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale answers, and presses on before silence can fall again and make things even more awkward. “Then, I, um… I don’t suppose you know where I would be able to get some. Wine. That would pair well with the kirschtorte.” He clears his throat. “ A nice pinot noir, perhaps a whole case?”

The sound of movement crackles through again. “I’m fresh out of pinot noir, I’m afraid,” Crowley says, and Aziraphale feels fresh disappointment beginning to creep in, alongside embarrassment.

“Oh, I see,” he begins. “Well—”

“I’ve got some port though,” Crowley interrupts. “A whole case, even. That pairs with cherries and chocolate well enough, don’t you think?”

Had Crowley told him he’d gotten his hands on a second copy of The Nice and Accurate Prophecies Aziraphale could hardly have been more pleased. It’s only ages of practice that allows him to reply with any semblance of being calm, and even then glee slips through that he can’t hide. “Oh, oh yes, I believe a port would do very nicely.”

“Good,” Crowley says, and “Great. I’ll just, er, pack up a few bottles and pop over, shall I?”

He sounds uncertain, and small wonder really, Aziraphale thinks, considering that very same proposal had been dashed down by himself not ten minutes before. Only here it is again, Crowley reaching out and leaving it for Aziraphale to decide. Just like always. Probably waiting for Aziraphale to hem and haw and come up with a reason why they shouldn’t.

Not anymore, he thinks, determined, lips pressed in a thin line as if to hold back the old habits of objection. Certainly not today.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asks, after too much quiet. Doubt has crept into his voice, doubt and resignation. He thinks he knows what’s coming, and it’s that which finally spurs Aziraphale into saying what he knows he ought to have done long, long before now.

“Yes,” he says, with a deep breath and six thousand years of tenderness creeping into his tone. “Yes, please. I’d like that very much.”

#Good omens #good omens lockdown #good omens day #ineffable husbands #crowley #Aziraphale #crowley/aziraphale #good omens 30 #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #my fic #GO fic #i edited this like four times and if i didn't post it now i never would so here we go

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suki-schiffer · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Rule of Wolves

A compilation of my raw initial thoughts and feelings after reading Rule of Wolves by Leigh Bardugo, sequel to King of Scars, seventh book in the Grishaverse. I just finished reading Rule of Wolves (RoW) yesterday and wanted to get some of my unaltered thoughts and feelings on paper before they become influenced by rereads and by being exposed to others’ opinions. There’s little rhyme or reason to this, it jumps all over the place, I’m not taking the time to check spellings etc. also, spoilers.

I am probably evaluating all the Grishaverse (GV) books a little too harshly because I can’t help but compare them to the Six of Crows (SoC) series which were the first books from the GV that I read. The whole reason I picked up King of Scars (KoS) last year was because I wanted more of that joy I got from SoC, only when I started reading KoS did I realize that the GV books aren’t just set in the same universe but have intertwining plots and characters at which point I realized I’d ruined the Shadow and Bone (S&B) series for myself but I did go back and read that too even though it definitely would not have been something I would have picked up if it had no connection to the other books. The S&B series wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t my cup of tea, as it truly was a YA series with characters that were pretty one dimensional being driven by pure motives down a predictable plot. Many of these characters make a reappearance in KoS and RoW and while they have a bit more dimension to them now they are still too pure, too perfect, and my feelings about them from previous series still stuck.

I don’t like Zoya. I didn’t like her when I first read about her is SoC and I really hated her after reading S&B. Those feelings were hard to cast off when she becomes a slightly better person in KoS/RoW but the entire time I couldn’t help but think she was undeserving not just of being a main character but of being a member of the Grisha Triumvirate, of being Nikolai’s love interest, of that ridiculous amount of power, and of becoming Ravka’s queen. I felt like her “backstory” was rather forced to try to make us like her more. Like oh, how sweet, she has a secret garden with a plant for everyone she’s lost. She still came off as a bitch. I honestly still don’t know what drives her. In S&B first it’s her desire for power and beauty and the Darkling’s attentions then when her aunt is killed she joins Alina maybe for revenge? But other than Alina asking for her to be part of the Triumvirate I didn’t really know why she was in that role don’t know how or why she agreed to become Nikolai’s general, because she loved him? Or perhaps it’s because she’s still just power hungry wanting to lead the Grisha, wanting to lead the army, wanting to lead the nation?

Disregarding my feelings for Zoya, her power increase in KoS and RoW is ridiculous. How is it that she is the only Grisha (save perhaps the now dead saints) who can break down matter small enough to draw power from every order? You’re telling me that this girl manages to do this after a few weeks with Juris but people like Baghra or the Darkling who are hundreds of years old and significantly stronger and were actively trying to strengthen themselves couldn’t do this? Ilya Morozova, the Darkling’s grandfather, did all kinds of experiments, dabbling in merzost, how is it the Darkling, in all the years he spent waiting for a sun summoner, not at least dabble in the other orders in attempt to summon sun himself? If you were to rank characters by power on a scale of one to ten I would have said the Darkling was a ten but Zoya blows that scale out of the water when she becomes the dragon, a character this powerful just feels wrong. Not to mention she didn’t even really work for this power, she trains with Juris for a bit in the Fold and then makes his scales into fetters, there was no years of study and practice or meditation, no struggle, just bam! Power.

So yes, still don’t like Zoya and I think her character arc, if you will, decreased the quality of the book.

Again, I’m comparing things to SoC but in comparison RoW was rather predictable. There were definitely a few twists I didn’t see coming and a few questions that were left unanswered but with SoC I was constantly guessing at what would go wrong, what the new plan was, I was constantly on my toes. That constant guessing kept me interested, by comparison I was at times bored with this book, if I put a book down (mid-chapter even!) to scroll through Tumblr or watch Youtube videos or do something else for the sake of enjoyment before finishing that book that’s a sign it isn’t all that interesting, and that’s what I was doing with RoW.

It was just too predictable. Like oh no, the Darkling tricked you into meeting Alina and Mal, got his power back, and fled, who’d’ave guessed it? What’s this? Hanne ended up getting too much attention and might be forced to marry the prince, Rasmus, of Fjerda because of it? Ehri’s guards make another attempt on her life? Nikolai weasels his way out of marrying Ehri because his true love is Zoya, no way! Joran, this young Druskelle who is for some reason being punished by having to be Rasmus’ guard is the one who killed Matthias? Oh and why is guarding Rasmus a punishment when he could be the hope of getting Fjerda to end the war? Because he’s an abusive shit who hates feeling weak so he tries to make others feel weaker, didn’t see that one coming, nope, definitely not.

Now for a few of the things that surprised or confused me that I’m still sort of confused about. Let’s start near the beginning with the Fold suddenly, not so much as expanding as just, appearing in different places all over the world with seemingly no rhyme or reason. I didn’t really get how a pocket dimension existed within the Fold in the first place or how the saints got trapped in it but apparently breaking out of it allowed the Fold to take on a will of its own whereas it had previously been stable for hundreds of years. Also the Darkling not having any powers after leaving the Fold was confusing, I shouldn’t necessarily say “any” because he seemed to have been able to make subtle changes to Yuri’s body to make it look more like his own but I didn’t understand how his power could seemingly enter his body granting him control and consciousness but then he not have any power until he gets Mal and Alina’s blood (also wasn’t clear what he did with the blood, did he just have to touch it, did he stab all three of their hands so the blood mingled?). This just sort of felt unnecessary and that it was just a means to pull Alina et al back into the story.

In KoS it was implied that the use and existence of Jurda Parem was the reason Nikolai’s monster came back and the saints now had enough power to create miracles to entice them to the Fold and draw them into the pocket world, this theory is never mentioned again. Can you tell I’m just really confused about everything related to that pocket world?

Speaking of that interaction with Alina and co I was honestly hoping Yuri might have a bit more of a role in the story. Yuri had seemed sort of willing to let the Darkling use him as a vessel and Nikolai discovering he was still in there with the “there’s something in your beard” line didn’t clue me into the fact that there could be more to this because I assumed he was still on the Darkling’s side. But then he tries to warn Alina of what he’s about to do and I thought, oh, maybe he has second thoughts, maybe there’s going to be a fight now for control of the body and Yuri might be able to stop the Darkling from doing something sinister by fighting back at the right moment. Alas, he goes back to singing the Darkling praises. I get that Yuri is a bad guy but I still kind of felt bad for him, not enough to care about his wellbeing, at least not until the very end because as far as I’m aware Yuri was still in his body with the Darkling when the Darkling decided to have a bit of a redemption arc by condemning himself to an eternity of pain to close the Fold and keep it closed. As far as I’m concerned the Darkling deserves that fate, Yuri doesn’t.

Speaking of the Darkling taking control of another’s body another thing I was left wondering about happened in one of Nina’s earlier chapters when the new Wellmother from the convent Nina and Hanne had been at arrives at the Ice Court to accuse Hanne of worshipping the Saints instead of Djel. At the end of this chapter the Wellmother’s eyes are described as slate grey, I’ve only ever heard the Darkling’s eyes be described that way. I really thought that the Darkling was just pretending to be powerless and had actually developed a new power of taking over other’s bodies and he was just biding time by gathering intel and causing chaos this way, I thought this might have also been how he was creating the mini-Folds all over the world (look I know they had a Ravkan name that roughly translated to vampire but I’m not going back into the book to find the spelling and calling them vampires just... no). I was so concerned for Nina, here this woman is claiming to actually be part of the Ravkan spy network and that Nikolai needs her to get close to Demidov Lantsov. This order made no sense because Nikolai knew he wasn’t a Lantsov and the existence of another Lantsov doesn’t mean much, as long as the people think Nikolai is the legitimate son of the former king and queen then he outranks every other individual with Lantsov blood in terms of succession. Also if this were a legitimate request it seems like there would have been much easier and safer ways to communicate this than have someone come from across the country making false claims against Hanne that could put her under suspicion thus limiting Nina’s ability to move. I thought this was therefore some sort of trap to expose Nina, and potentially Hanne, and the fact that nothing came of it left me confused. We never see this Wellmother character again, Nina does not get exposed, when we get the Darkling’s POV in the second part of the book he mentions nothing of this encounter nor is it suggested that he actually has such a power.

I then thought perhaps if the Darkling survived and was now in Yuri’s body perhaps this was his mother, Baghra, come back to life as well. Then we get thrown a random line during one of the Darkling’s chapters where he mentions the existence of a half-sister that was also declared a saint that I don’t recall hearing about before this instance, in fact I’m pretty sure Baghra said something in the Spinning Wheel about only having one child because she didn’t want a repeat of what happened to her and her sister and that she didn’t even remember who Aleksander’s father was so if the Darkling knows of this half-sister we would assume it’s Baghra’s child. Apparently though this sister was referenced in the only GV book I haven’t read being Language of Thorns (just a side note RoW is said to be the seventh book in GV but if you include The Lives of Saints and The Language of Thorns it is actually the ninth). I could be wrong, maybe Baghra never said anything about her son being her only child, or maybe this is another case of Bardugo altering things between series. She did this with Nina’s backstory because in SoC when Matthias talks about courting her properly and having dinner with her family she said that she hadn’t seen them in years since she went to the Little Palace but in KoS and RoW she’s an orphan who grew up in an orphanage and doesn’t remember her parents. Point being, after that line I thought the Wellmother might have been the Darkling’s half-sister since she had claimed to have been a spy in Fjerda for thirteen years which would mean she’d been there since before the events of S&B, if that is true then it likely couldn’t be Baghra. I’m still hung up on this character though, for all the reasons outlined, yet the KoS series is over and she only made one appearance so maybe she just was a spy with slate grey eyes.

As mentioned previously I knew Nikolai wasn’t going to marry Ehri but I didn’t realize Genya and David were going to be the ones getting married, or maybe “renewal of vows” would be a better term. I’m perfectly content to have this come out of the blue, predictable can be boring, but then it started getting weird. I had just assumed previously that Genya and David had been married sometime between the end of the S&B series and the start of KoS as that’s when they start being referred to husband and wife (same with Nadia and Tamar) and I had no reason to believe it wasn’t the wedding they wanted. Then there’s mentions of them having a hasty wedding in Ketterdam and this just felt like yet another attempt to placate and garner hope in readers by referencing SoC. As far as I know David wasn’t in Ketterdam during the SoC series, he was the only one who stayed in Ravka, even if he was there and just wasn’t “on screen” I don’t understand why they would choose to get married then and there. And if not during the events of SoC then when? What reason did they have to both be in Ketterdam outside of the events of SoC and decide they couldn’t wait to have a proper wedding in Ravka? I was angry at this point because a similar thing was done in KoS where lines about SoC kept getting dropped and getting my hopes up that the other crows would make an appearance and they didn’t.

But back to the wedding, running off to his workshop because he had an idea during his own wedding is totally in character for David. Him dying was just evil. Didn't even cross my mind that this was a possibility, one minute we go from Genya digging through the rubble in her wedding dress saying she can’t find him then we are at his funeral. I thought he might have been gravely injured, unconscious for a long period of time, and that he’d had an idea for an invention that would help them win the war and he’d save the day by waking up in time or something. But no. My favourite character from S&B was killed off, just like that. And it was impactful, it made me cry, the fact they had found him pen in hand, fingers stained with ink, in his wedding clothes, the fact that in his notebook he has notes about how to woo Genya and she wants him to have it in death. Beautifully written, definitely salty about it. At this point in time I don’t really see how his death furthered the plot but death in real life is like that to, it’s unexpected, without reason, sudden. And perhaps, like Matthias’ death in SoC, it will be used to later start a new plot for a new story.

Now two paragraphs ago I was lamenting the fact that the mention of Ketterdam felt forced and had the intent of fooling the readers into having hopes the other SoC cast would return but then they keep hinting at it, they talk about contacting Kaz, about travelling to Ketterdam and I’m sitting there thinking please, please, please actually have Kaz meet them, don’t just be letters or some other minor Dregs sent in his place. (!!!! <- there are no words for my excitement!)

I made an audible screech when Nikolai gave money to the beggar because I knew that was Kaz in disguise. I was so pleased to hear that it sounds like Pekka did not return to the Barrel and that Kaz bought the Emerald Palace and expanded the Crow Club. I was slightly disappointed that Inej wasn’t trailing Nikolai and Zoya too or that she wasn’t meeting with them in the Crow Club probably mainly because I just wanted to see her again but there was also a sadness that it sounds like she did decide to walk a different path than Kaz. The fact that Nina had, earlier in RoW, talked about how she hoped for Inej’s sake Kaz had fixed his hair cut by now, contributed to this because obviously she thinks they stayed together. Maybe they are together in a way but long distance relationships without any suggestion of communication technology must be hard, especially when Kaz could be taken out by another Barrel boss or Inej’s ship blown up by pirates (or the Kerch as was implied by Nikolai) and the other might not ever know of their fate and certainly wouldn’t be there to save them, so I feel that due to this they wouldn’t actively be in a relationship. However, I am proud that Inej put her dreams before Kaz’s she could have given up those dreams to stay at his side and continue to be his spider, after all, that’s what he had asked her to do he wanted her and he wanted her to stay, in the Dregs, with him. Wasn’t too thrilled that she’s used as a sort of damsel in distress. Help us Mister Brekker and in exchange I’ll give you a device that acts as an early warning system against the submarines I gave the Kerch (yes they have a different name that starts with an i and there’s a z and y and m in there somewhere but instead of me trying to spell it lets call them what they are, subs) because the Wraith will be blown up otherwise as she won’t be able to get away in time.

I don’t know if it was because this part of the story was written better or if it was just because I like these characters so much more (my darling baby boys!) but I felt like the story finally developed momentum here that it was lacking previously. I love that Wylan and Jesper are living together with Wylan’s mother and acting like an old married couple. I also like that Wylan is trying to keep Jesper away from illegal activities but is also clearly continuing to work on chemistry projects and likely explosives and that Jesper’s love of Barrel flash hasn’t been quashed, Zoya actually even compliments it in her head. I also love how, as soon as Wylan hears this illegal act can help Inej, all restraint is thrown out the window. Kaz was able to pull off so many tricks in such a short time too, I love it. First dressing as a beggar, then pretending the operation will be more difficult than it is in order to drive the price up, then pretending that due to changes in how the goods are being stored at the military base they couldn’t carry out the operation with such a small crew, meanwhile he knew the Suli were there and would connect with Zoya and show them the “backdoor” to the base. Now I completely understand how Ketterdam was built on slavery or, as they like to call it, indentures, so I can see how Suli would have built the place, I imagine some of the Suli are still in Ketterdam, why they returned to the military base that night I don’t know. Also the fact they were all wearing jackal masks, something Inej said is reserved only for holy men, Suli seers, and wearing one was akin to sacrilege if you were not a seer, implies that all these people were the rare seers which seemed a bit unlikely. The fact that Zoya has this encounter and an earlier one made me think that maybe the Suli would play a larger role in RoW than what they end up doing (because this is the last we see of them, they don’t come to fight the battles, they don’t impart secret knowledge to help Ravka win the war, Zoya doesn’t find her father or her uncles or decide to learn more about her Suli heritage).

I was very disappointed with how quickly we leave Ketterdam, Kaz, Wylan, and Jesper. I suppose we do the same thing with Alina and co at the sanatorium where there is no proper goodbye. In one chapter we finish the job/plot point and in the next the main characters have left. At the end of the day I suppose I was just glad we actually had a few scenes with the crows and not just hints, was definitely the most surprising part of the book.

The crows were a positive surprise Nina and Hanne getting together was more of a negative one for me. It was hinted at in KoS but Nina has also been said to have made eyes at a pair of shoes so I had hoped the relationship wouldn’t grow beyond flirting, I feel it just diminishes what Nina and Matthias had. She also doesn’t seem to feel any remorse for moving on so quickly and even though she’s still thinking about him, about her promise to save some mercy for his people and country, and trying to fulfill her promises, she’s also forsaking him by getting together with Hanne.

That being said I, like Nina, really did believe Rasmus had killed Hanne near the end of RoW and while I hadn’t wanted them to be together the damage to the relationship Nina and Matthias had was done and I was thinking “really, you’re going to do this to my girl Nina twice, take away the person she loves, twice, for no good reason?” So that was a surprise and I was glad that Hanne did survive but I really don’t see how she could live as Rasmus and even if she could pull it off I don’t see the Fjerdan people, military, or royalty permitting a prince to marry Mila, a widowed fishwife. Nina was saying something about using her power to get the answers from the dead which I thought was a very weird development for her powers in the first place. In KoS when Nina said that she was hearing the voices of the dead I thought it was more about she was sensing a mass grave and could tell that the bodies were women and the death unnatural. Near the end of KoS I thought perhaps there were some memories left in the brains that she could access, names and how they died. But in RoW Nina is able to reach out to the dead, identify the queen’s best friend and lady-in-waiting and ask her questions and get answers and implies she can do this with Rasmus as well. There are a lot of logistic fallacies with this. One, it implies that people don’t go to the Saints or to Djel or to any kind of afterlife when they die but that they stick around their corpses. It also implies that Nina can probably override their free will, the women and girls at the factory had “called” to her, I doubt Rasmus and the lady-in-waiting would want to share everything so freely. Finally, if Nina can communicate with the dead then how come Matthias’ voice that she heard in the beginning of KoS was just her imagination and not really him? This could also make Nina incredibly powerful, no need to torture or bribe secrets out of someone or try to steal top secret documents, just kill them with a bone dart and demand answers of their ghost.

In regards to Nina’s power I am disappointed with how little she used it in RoW. With the exception of speaking to the dead I believe she briefly controlled two of the newly dead Priest Guard to restrain the Apparat for all of maybe thirty seconds and that was it for the entire book. While Nina has always done undercover work or subterfuge, pretending to be native to find Grisha in hiding, sneaking into the Ice Court pretending to be part of the Menagerie, pretending to be Mila the translator for Leoni and Adrik, she has always come off as a warrior to me so to not see her fight at all in RoW seemed a bit out of character. There was opportunity but it wasn't seized and honestly it left me wondering what Nina actually really accomplished during RoW, she didn't free Nikolai's true father, she didn't free any Grisha or destroy Fjerda's parem or find labs and holding facilities, she didn't help win any battles, didn't actually manage to dissuade Rasmus from war. Zoya took her from the Leviathan, flew her all the way to the frontlines of the north where there was death aplenty, and then flew her all the way back without her ever doing more than cling to Zoya’s back. Surely she could have raised some of the dead just to drive the point home, no?

The one thing I did like about the final battle was that we finally got to see the Darkling be less than perfect, a theme that sort of carried through the book. He started off with no power, mind you his scheme to get it back went off without a hitch, but then he was pretty much on the run having to trade manual labour for food. Yet he had this plan and I had no reason to believe it wouldn’t work out for him, that he’d go to the frontlines, preform a miracle saving Nikolai and Ravka, and manage to get himself declared a saint for his troubles. Instead we see him just as affected by the disk bells as everyone else, we see him try to summon shadow, try to summon nichyvoya (I acknowledge that’s spelled incorrectly, I can’t be bothered to find the correct spelling) and he can’t. I thought it was glorious.

While the Darkling did end up doing some good in RoW, helping Nikolai’s monster stay alive long enough to destroy the disk bells, shutting up the Apparat (why isn’t he dead, his character is a harbinger of bad things to come and he’s a creep, how did Zoya not kill him?) in order to give Zoya a better chance of getting the throne, and finally sacrificing himself to the Thornwood to undo the damage he let loose on the world with the creation of the Fold, I didn’t feel as though he had redeemed himself and for this I was glad. There are all kinds of evil characters in GV and the Darkling likes to pretend that his reasons are pure, that he’s protecting and strengthening the Grisha, but he is a mass murderer seemingly without empathy, he happily manipulates people to get his way, puts Genya, who at the time could be considered a child, into the king’s path, then later mutilates her as punishment for letting Alina get away, all for the sake of his own cause. In the GV I hated Van Eck and Brum and Heleen much more than the Darkling, but I do think he’s the most evil of them all, in part because his unnaturally long life has meant he’s been committing evils for centuries. I’m glad that it sounds like this is the end for his character and that while in the next series Zoya wants to free him from his eternity of agony that freedom will come in the form of death.

Speaking of the potential plot of the next series, I can’t believe that without even doing any research they are able to come to the conclusion that a “heart strong enough” is the heart of Saint Feliks and they intend to send Kaz after this, what if they’re wrong? Also, they finally bring Inej into the story for Zoya’s coronation, don't know what reason she had for being there. But then we’re done dirty because Inej doesn’t get to meet Alina although she catches sight of her, and they are ready to send Inej back to Kaz with a message about finding this saint’s heart but she’s already left so they’re just going to use a plain old flyer instead! You could have at least sent our darling Inej, treasure of our hearts, back to do Kaz the honour of acquiring him a new heart. But no, brief meaningless appearance and she’s gone.

Unfortunately, it seems there was a lot of things I was displeased with in RoW. I think overall the main problem the RoW (and KoS) is that it just became too big, the characters became indistinct because they grew out of character, there were too many references to past stories and characters in attempt to please readers rather than for the sake of the story, there were too many characters and plots to keep track of in general, and due to all this I couldn’t remain suspended in disbelief. I approach this as someone who entered the GV through SoC, I picked up SoC because the story was interesting, I picked up KoS and S&B because they were set in the same universe as SoC not because I particularly wanted to read those series. I had thought I could be interested in KoS on its own because it is more complicated than a typical YA novel and Nina is one of the main characters but now having finished RoW I have to say that if the GV really was just a collection of stories set in the same universe but with no intersecting of series I would have never have read this one. Will I go back and read KoS and RoW again? Yes, of course. Will I sometimes pretend that it never existed when I reread SoC? Yes, of course. But I do think the wait and the hype was worth it even if just for the few chapters with the Dregs again, because let’s face it, that’s what I personally was waiting for.

So I wrote this as a Word document over the span of three days and it’s now over 5000 words long, completely unedited, no order, probably reads like chaos. I want to see if and how my opinion changes over time but I’ve decided to post this because I like reading and watching others react to things I like so maybe someone else out there is like me and will find this and get some enjoyment from this.

#rule of wolves #grishaverse #king of scars #leigh bardugo #six of crows #shadow and bone

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