#all he says is ''maman'' and my head is FILLED with thoughts of his education

[varilien]

For the triggun holloween requests, vash and wood couple costumes

ive gotten the suggestion for vashwood morticia and gomez a few times which is great cuz ive been thinking forever about it purely for the "speaks french x speaks spanish" of it all fhdjdjd

[kairos-polaris]

A schism of magic

Chapte 1

Marinette finds a golden watch. Opening it changed a lot in her life.

***

She remembers being eight and looking at the Untempered Schism. She was prepared to see everything but not magic and gods the size of her hand. The image left a lingering need to run in her bones but she was very good at resisting the urge.

***

Marinette was tired. Exhausted. Worn out. Bone-tired.

Why? Well, studying, working on commissions, and saving Paris from Hawkmoth at the same time wasn't easy. Her schedule was packed so tightly, she hadn't slept more than four hours for almost three months.

Maybe, I should close commissions. This will give me more free time. I can also work more on finding Hawkmoth. And focus on my education,' Marinette thought. She looked around her room. Everything was calm. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Kwamis were similar to kids in one aspect: if they're quiet, they're making a mess somewhere. Marinette sighed and rubbed her forehead. She really was too tired to clean up anything.

Marinette sighed again and got up. Apparently, being awake for 64 hours straight wasn't good for her health because Marinette felt her head spin and everything went dark for a moment. "I need to take a nap," she muttered to herself while swaying softly. "Maybe consuming so much caffeine isn't good for me".

Finding kwamis turned out to be relatively easy. They were all sitting on her bed, next to a golden fob watch with engraved circular designs. It was a beautiful watch, Marinette had to admit.

"Where did you find it? I don't remember having anything similar," Marinette frowned. "Did you steal it?"

Judging by kwamis' guilty looks they did steal it. The next questions were how, when, why, and from whom? Marinette sighed inwardly. It wasn't going to be easy.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Marinette asked after several minutes of silence. Wayzz flew forward as the most responsible one.

"We wanted to explore a little bit," they've started, "and we accidentally flew into your parents room. Immediately after I realized where we were I made them leave. But in my hurry I didn't notice that Fluff did not go with us. And I think Fluff can tell more now."

The kwami of evolution had the decency to look guilty under Wayzz's glare. Fluff flew closer to her, trying to appear innocent. "I'm not sorry, Guardian. I had to do this for the stability of timelines. You will understand it later. This watch contains your consciousness. It is you, Guardian."

"What do you mean, Fluff?" she asked, a small frown forming between her eyebrows. "How can a fob watch be me?"

"You're a Time Lady. This watch is a part of the mechanism called the Chameleon Arc. From what I know your people use it as a perfect disguise. Chameleon Arc changes your biology and creates false memories. You have to open it," Fluff didn't wait for her answer and just dropped it on her knees.

Fluff's words seemed to be too unlikely to be true. Why would she want to change her species or create false memories? Why didn't Tikki say anything if it were true?

"Are you trying to pull a prank on me, Fluff?" she asked tiredly. She wasn't in the mood for games.

"Just open it, Guardian. I used the Burrow to make sure this is the right time. It's very important for you to open this watch."

It didn't seem real. More like from a tv show with aliens. But she was the Guardian of multiple gods. She knew that aliens existed (hard not to, considering how everybody talks about Superman, Martian Manhunter, Green Lanterns and others). So there was a chance that Fluff was telling the truth. The only way to find out was to open the watch. If she wasn't a Time Lord, nothing would change. And if she was … well, they would deal with it later.

A small click of the opened clasp and a bright golden light blinded her. Several seconds later the room was filled with her pained screams. And then she blacked out.

Tikki wasn't panicking. She wasn't! Nothing Plagg says can be trusted. So don't believe him when he says that Tikki was flying around her Chosen and babbling 100 words per minute.

But what if Marinette didn't wake up? What if she forgot about Tikki and the time they've spent together? What if she didn't want to see them anymore?

"Urgh, it shouldn't have hurt so much. I shouldn't have blacked out," Marinette's voice interrupted Tikki's inner monologue. Kwami immediately flew to her face to assure herself that Marinette was alright.

"How are you feeling? What has gone wrong?" Tikki asked worriedly while flying around Marinette's head.

"I'm okay, Tikki. I just didn't expect it to hurt so much. I didn't completely believe this watch could do anything to me." She breathed out to regulate her heartbeats. "I'm just happy… my parents aren't home. I don't know how to explain this to them."

Fluff flew closer and nuzzled into her cheek. "I'm sorry, Guardian. I didn't think something like that would happen," Fluff said, their eyes shining with regret. "What is your name, Guardian?"

"My name is Morana," she answered slowly, her head still pounding from the pain. Using her full name felt somewhat wrong. Her entire family was dead. Her home planet was most likely destroyed in the War, because the Universe was standing and Rassilon wasn't the type to change plans.

"Why did you use this thing in the first place? Was it because of the Time War?" Fluff asked before every kwami flew to them in an attempt to close their mouths.

Morana stayed silent. She trusted kwamii, she even loved them. But the Time War changed her so much that she couldn't recognise herself. Seeing death every day and being aware that your people sacrificed civilisations to win just one battle wasn't easy for her. And she didn't want to relieve everything she had seen or done.

Kwamis seemed to understand this, giving her time to collect her thoughts. She opened her mouth to start talking, but… she couldn't say anything. Every word felt too weak to describe why she had used the Chameleon Arc and what had led to this.

"It's not so easy," she started again. "I.. A lot of things featured in my decision to use it. I wasn't technically running away from the war. I was ordered to leave. You can call me a backup plan. But I was attacked while leaving. My Time Capsule is still young so she was heavily injured. And because of it I was injured, too.

Then I finally was in this Universe. Heavily bleeding, I decided that regeneration was my best choice. Something went wrong, again, and I looked like a six years old. Using the Chameleon Arc was part of Lord Rassilon's plan so that's what I did."

Kwamis stayed silent. It was clear that Morana didn't want to talk about it and they would respect her wishes. Some wounds should be left alone so they heal properly.

"You should go to sleep. You were running on sheer spite, and becoming a Time Lady again was hard for your body," Wayzz said. He was always the most responsible and caring kwami. Morana smiled at him and silently went to her bed. She had a lot of work cut out for her. She could only hope she wouldn't wake up from a nightmare.

***

Waking up a Time Lord again felt strange. Utterly strange. It must be because she had used the Chameleon Arc immediately after regeneration. Not everything was set and she should have waited a little bit. Well, what's done is done. She couldn't change anything.

What she could do was moan to kwamis about aches in seemingly all her body parts. Her head felt close to exploding from all the pressure. She could feel neurons snapping into place. It would go much easier if she were on Gallifrey. Or at least in the Zero Room. Regenerating anywhere else was awfully painful.

Due to her newly discovered heightened hearing she heard Sabine's steps. The woman most likely wanted to wake up Marinette so she wouldn't be late for school. Morana didn't want to move, less go to a public place before she could actually control her body.

"Marinette, you are going to be late if you don't get up right now," Sabine said from somewhere in the room. Morana was too overwhelmed with the amount of new smells that came with Sabine.

"I'm sorry, Maman. I have a really bad headache. Everything hurts," she said, desperately trying to tall like Marinette would. Her usual speech patterns were too proper for a teenager. However, it was a problem for later. At the very moment Mora just wanted her head to stop pounding. A very tiny part of her wanted that pain to last, this way she would not have to be confronted with silence. No telepathic specie deserved to be completely alone in their heads.

"Do you need something, sweetie?" the woman was clearly concerned, more than her actual mother ever was. Morana felt a small pang in her chest, but brushed it off immediately as an aftereffect of regeneration going wrong. "I'm going to be in the bakery, just call me when you need anything, okay?"

Kwamis flew out immediately after Sabine had left. They looked very concerned for her health, and it warmed her heart a lot. Time Lords were too proper to care for anyone other than themselves. Morana sighed inwardly, because doing so outwardly would be too painful. She was so used to resenting her own people that she forgot that they are dead. Properly dead. No crossing time streams would let her see even her most annoying cousins. And it pained her more than she wanted to admit.

"Can we help somehow, Master?" Wayzz asked softly, adjusting his voise tone so it wouldn't hurt her head. Marinette appreciated the effort. She really did. She did not appreciate being called Master.

"Plese, never call me Master, Wayzz," she said weakly. "I know a Time Lord who call himself that. He's one of the biggest annoyances Gallifrey had ever known. He had also destroyed my lab once so I don't like being reminded of him," she explained, seeing kwamis' wondering gazes. She didn't mention that reminder of the home she had lost hurt her a lot, but judging by Tikki's and Wayzz's reactions, they understood her without any words needed

"What can we do to help you, Morana? You never answered," Tikki said, carefully gouging her reaction. Morana sighed, outwardly this time. She hoped they moved on from the subject.

"Nothing, unless you can get me Gallifrey," she let out a bitter laugh. "Or my Time Capsule. Even just being there would help me greatly. But, alas, I don't know where she is. I can't move to get there anyway."

"I can try to search for it, Guardian," Barkk offered. Morana stayed silent for a moment. It would seem like a great idea if she didn't know that her Time Capsule couldn't be detected if she herself didn't approve. And Morana couldn't possibly do it from her bedroom in Paris. That's what she explained to the dog kwami. It, apparently, insulted the god a lot, because they started loudly explaining how nothing could hinder their search and that they were the best in it before remembering about Morana's headache. It seemed to shut them up pretty fast, but Morana just appreciated the silence.

"Let's tall about this later, when my brain won't try to explode and my body will be more used to… a lot of things, actually," she offered, because she really didn't want to argue with anyone. Especially with kwamis. "I'm going to sleep. Hope it will help me."

***

Sleep didn't help. Painkillers didn't help. Which was obvious, because human medicine could never help a Time Lord. Especially after regeneration.

But Marinette did feel better. Tea, apparently, helped, because after only one cup her head stopped hurting so much and she could do anything without being overwhelmed. Marinette appreciated it, but was too baffled by the realisation. She even regretted that they never had it on Gallifrey. It would help a lot of Time Lords. Especially during the Time War, because everyone was burning through their regeneration like… like Doctor!

"What are we going to do now?" she asked kwamis. Morana knew they considered her too weak to do anything and it irritated her a lot. Time Lords were a superior species, regeneration was their strength, not a weakness.

"You have to understand one thing, Guardian," Wayzz started, always the peacemaker. "We don't think you are weak or anything like that. But I personally believe that you need more rest. And you won't get it while fixing your Time Capsule. It would take a lot of time and effort to get her into proper shape, considering that you had to regenerate from all the damage," Wayzz explained slowly, like one would to a child.

Morana knew his words had logic. If she saw her Time Capsule, she wouldn't rest until everything was fixed. And it would cause major problems in the long run for her health. It could even force her to regenerate and she wasn't keen on changing her bodies like gloves. She still hated it.

"Okay, we will wait," she said after a long moment of silence and kwamis started cheering immediately. "For now we have to think how I am supposed to act." She was met with bland and confused looks. "My speech patterns, my behaviour and even the way I hold myself is drastically different from Marinette. Some things have stayed, like my intellect, curiosity and need to learn more, but a lot of Marinette was influenced by growing up as a human. I was raised completely differently."

"I can take you wherever you want, Guardian," Kaalki courteously offered. "You can change their memories a little bit, take some money and leave. I believe that you know how to hack computers."

Kaalki's offer made a lot of sense and in any other situation Morana would agree immediately. But it wasn't any other situation. "I can't leave because of Hawkmoth," she said quietly.

Mora was also ashamed of the fact that she still hadn't caught the man. It was embarrassing for a Time Lady of her status. At least she had another reason to not leave immediately to find her Time Capsule. She would be too tempted to leave and never return. Time Lords aren't meant to meddle with humans and history in general. "But the Doctor did so," a traitorous voice, the most rebellious part of her, whispered. You envy his freedom but yet you are unable to let go of Time Lords's ideals. You have to choose one day.". And that was a conversation for another day.

The next hour was spent discussing Marinette's behaviour and how Morana could start slowly changing, so her classmates (she had graduated from the Academy years ago and she still had to go to a human school and she hated that) wouldn't notice. It wouldn't be very hard, considering they could only see Lila and her pretty tales.

There was also an issue of Marinette's crush on one Adrien Agreste. It was borderline creepy and hurt Marinette's mental health. Thank Rassilon, her Time Lord consciousness was woken up just in time. In the back of her mind Morana could feel possible outcomes of the situation with Adrien and Lila and she liked none of them

Lila and her lies were another reason for Morana to burn bright red from shame. Marinette losing her composure and completely not being to defend herself was unbecoming for a Time Lady. Her parents and Academy teachers had taught her better than that.

That liar was a completely different issue. On one hand, she would keep attention diverted from Morana. On the other, she wasn't sure the liar wouldn't try to discredit her even further. Morana preferred staying hidden rather than attracting unnecessary attention. And the repeat of her infamous expulsion would do exactly that.

There was also a matter of pride. Her Time Lord part was enraged that a human girl thought herself better than her. Morana wanted to destroy the liar, make her reap what she had sowed. But deep down she knew that destroying a minor would not help her feel better.

"I want to deal with Lila without exposing her myself," she said out loud. Voicing out her thoughts sometimes helped. "I have to make someone else do it, but who?"

"You can subtly help your classmates find the truth," Tikki offered. "You are more eloquent and confident than Marinette. You wouldn't lose your head if someone started doubting you."

"It would work if I didn't change so much. I don't want to attract attention but talking to them will make them notice me. No, it won't work," Marinette shook her head. She stayed silent before a small spark ignited in her eyes. "I can make teachers expose her! I will get rid of Bustier and Damocles. This way not only will the Lila situation be resolved, but it will prevent something similar happening in the future!"

"That's an amazing idea!" Tikki exclaimed. "How do you want to do this?" But Marinette was already deep in work, cursing human technology every now and then.

Not even two hours later Morana got up with a triumphant grin. "We have to wait and see the results for ourselves now," she said.

"What did you do, Guardian?" Wayzz asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Wait and see! It will be much more interesting!" Morana didn't wait to see kwamis's reaction and just bolted out of her room. Buying computer parts was high in her priority because there was no way she would ever work with human technology without adjusting it to her needs. She also wanted to change her bedroom. Pink was a lovely colour but a completely pink bedroom was too much for Morana.

***

Morana skipped two more school days, because of fatigue and random headaches. Every time she shut her eyes from pain she was reminded of Gallifrey and Zero Room. It wouldn't hurt so much if she were there.

On the third day Morana decided it was time to go and assess the situation. She also needed proof of Bustier's unprofessionalism and her enabling bullies. She also wanted to know if anyone saw through Lila's lies. It was highly unlikely but a Time Lady could hope.

Dressing up was a major problem. Morana and Marinette had as different tastes in clothes as it could be. One preferred soft lines and pastel colours, another favoured strict forms and traditional colours. Marinette's style was too casual for Morana, who was used to stuff robes and gigantic headpieces.

"I guess I have to work with what I have for now, and then buy more when I can," Morana thought.

"You look very different from Marinette, Mora," Tikki said after Morana finished getting dressed. "But it suits you. I bet you are used to completely different clothes."

Morana decided to change Marinette's style a little bit, forgoing pigtails and usual clothes. Instead, she chose a white shirt and dress pants. She put her hair up in a bun. It was just the perfect combination of casual and formal. Morana would still do anything to wear robes from Gallifreywhich she didn't even have because her home planet was destroyed.

"I am ready. Who is going to go to school with me today?" It was a tradition at that point for Marinette to take kwamis with her to school and Morana didn't want to change it. It was decided that Trixx and Wayzz would come with her.

Morana already felt a growing headache. Unfortunately, it wasn't because of her less than stellar regeneration, but knowing what kinds of troubles Trixx could trick Wayzz and Tikki into. Hopefully Tikki would reign them in.

"Do you think Chat Noir will be suspicious when he sees me?" she asked, causing Tikki to nervously gulp. Kwami of creation wasn't a good liar. Just like Marinette.

"No! You were always very serious and strict as Marinette! I am sure he wouldn't notice the difference!" Tikki ranted, nervousness obvious in her small movements. Did she get that from Marinette too?

Morana sighed and smiled as softly as she could. "I wasn't sure that Chat was in my class but your poor lying skills just admitted it," Tikki just looked away, embarrassment and shame of exposing Chat's identity were noticeable in her eyes. Morana bit her lip, contemplating whether she should stay silent or cheer up kwami. She didn't think long. "Hey, it's okay, Tikki. It's not your fault that I know that Adrien is Chat. Human and Time Lord brains work differently, so I could imagine how Chat's face looked without the mask. I'm sure magic would help protect his identity if you always knew that I'm a Time Lady."

Tikki wasn't convinced, guilt still lingering in her little body. The previous guardian being so against Ladybug and Chat Noir knowing each other's identity has influenced kwami more than Morana thought previously. Tikki more than Plagg, obviously. "The previous guardian was a coward and not the smartest man," Morana stopped, trying to pick words that wouldn't offend the old man too much. "We don't know what would happen if Ladybug or Chat Noir were akumatized. Knowing who the other is would help us a lot. We could work together as civilians."

"Yes, you are right, Morana," Tikki said, stifling a sob. She nuzzled into Morana's cheek with a content sigh. They stood like that for several long moments. Luckily, there was still time as Morana had got up earlier to not be late.

"We have to go now, Tikki. We don't want to be late." It pained her to refuse Tikki so obviously needed comfort. But Morana couldn't allow herself to be late. Unless

"You know what? We can stay for a little bit longer. I planned everything so I would be the first in the class. We have full ten minutes for ourselves," she said with more confidence than she felt. Changing plans to make someone feel better wasn't something Time Lords would respect. But Tikki was important for her and Morana would be damned if she left her dear friend sad and hurt.

Tikki squealed happily before taking Morana's finger and leading her to the chaise. Over the course of the next several minutes every kwami flew to her. Morana thanked them mentally as being with her friends made Tikki feel much better.

Morana was ashamed to admit that she, a Time Lady with very precise time senses, had lost track of time. Instead of ten minutes they've spent almost twenty cuddling and listening to everyone's stories. And because of her tardiness she was running late. But what was unusual for Morana was normal for Marinette.

"Well, at least nobody will be surprised. Everyone expects Marinette to be late. Never expected that being late will have good sides," she thought while running to school. Fortunately, the building wasn't too far from the bakery and her physique allowed her to run faster and longer.

Morana stopped running just mere meters before her class' doors. She had two choices: enter like a mess aka Marinette's usual way, or go in calmly and confidently. She would attract less attention if she chose the second option, but it can possibly attract more attention later. But it would work if she ran away immediately after dismantling Lila's empire. Yes, that was her best choice.

Morana took a deep breath and entered her class. Everything was just the way she had expected: everyone sitting around Lila and listening to her tales, Alix and Kim were arguing about something. What she hadn't expected were Rose and Juleka. They were sitting away from everyone else, talking in hushed voices. They were also looking at Lila and her court every few seconds, which was even more suspicious. Morana sighed, knowing that she hadn't predicted everything. Again. Great.

***

Everything was too calm. Lila continued entertaining class with her stories but never mentioned anyone famous. Juleka and Rose spent the whole day whispering about something, but they were talking too soft for Morana to hear anything. And, in the name of Rassilon, did that frustrate her

Judging by Bustier's calm demeanor, Morana's plan hasn't reached her yet. The same must have been true for Damocles, because the man was acting as usual. He was also too much of an awful actor to pretend everything is fine enough to fool Morana. No, she just had to be more patient. She had more than enough time for that.

The day turned out to be utterly boring considering Lila didn't try to start a drama, or force Adrien sit with her. Juleka and Rose weren't confronted despite acting suspicious the whole time. Nobody approached "Marinette". The worst part was trying to pretend that she didn't know everything better than teachers. Her eyes twitched every time Mendeleev said something proved wrong years ago. "Patience, humans still have to disprove that and you know it. You can't compare the Academy with even the best human university. Even ones in the 51st century weren't as good,". Being the smartest person in the whole school wasn't easy, as you can see.

"Marinette, we wanted to talk to you," Rose said timidly, Juleka holding her hand. Well, apparently she had been wrong about nobody approaching her. "Can we talk in private, please? I… We have something to tell you. It's very important."

Morana contemplated refusing them. They had believed Lila but something she really wanted why they had been acting so suspiciously the whole day.

"Yes, I don't mind," she said cautiously and immediately saw tension leave Rose's body. It was so easy to read her. "We can go to the bakery. I promise that my parents won't intrude."

Juleka and Rose started nodding frantically, obviously not wanting her to change her mind. It was proving to be very interesting.

Fortunately, the walk to the bakery was short because Rose looked like she would blow up from the need to spill all the information.

Morana led them to her room, stopping briefly to greet her parents. They were so busy they didn't even notice her. Hm, not surprising.

"Well, what did you want to tell me?" she asked when they were finally sitting in her room. Rose bit her lip and started fidgeting with her fingers. She looked at Juleka with a silent plea to start talking.

"We know that Lila is a liar," Juleka said so softly Morana wouldn't hear if not for her enhanced hearing. "Rose mentioned her while talking with Prince Ali and he explained that he had never met anyone named "Lila Rossi" or that his charity work is directed to children, not pollution. He also mentioned that Lila could be sued for using his family name in her own gain.

Rose then immediately ran to our class and told everyone just that. But that liar somehow managed to save herself by saying that she had mistaken Prince Ali for her another celebrity friend. Rose then got so angry she told everyone about a possible lawsuit and that shut up Lie-la pretty quickly. After that she stopped mentioning celebrities and started focusing on herself."

That explained everyone's behaviour pretty nicely. And she didn't even have to think for herself, everything was given on a silver plate. Just use the information however you want to.

"I am so sorry, Marinette! Forgive me for not believing you!" Rose exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes. Morana hugged her, pressing Rose's face into her chest, allowing her to cry and let out all of her emotions. She could be colder than ice sometimes, but she would never let a child cry. Especially one her human self considered a friend.

"It's okay, it's okay. I forgive you," she whispered into Rose's head, while drawing soothing circles on her back. "You know the truth and that's all I wanted."

That wasn't a lie per se but not completely a truth. Marinette only wanted her friends to believe her over Lila, but Morana wanted them all to pay for their foolishness. Fortunately, her maturity and those parts of her that still were Marinette won out and it was pretty easy to forgive Juleka and Rose.

"You are so nice, Marinette! I don't deserve your kindness!" Rose sobbed into her shoulder. "I was worried when you didn't come to school and wanted to visit you but Lila said that you wouldn't want to see me. And I listened to her! And I left you! Instead of me begging your forgiveness you are comforting me! I'm so so so sorry!"

Morana knew that Rose was a soft and nice person. She even expected her to be the first who apologized to her. She did not expect her to be so upset about it. She took a deep breath and took Rose's face in her hands. Tears were running down her red cheeks and she let out an ugly sob with every breath.

"It really is okay, Rose. I understand you and why you wouldn't believe me. I have not the best track record when it concerns Adrien," she said with a self-ironic smile, hoping it would make her feel better. And Rose did have a small smile. "I actually am happy that you have found the truth by yourself and went immediately to tell everyone. It shows how much you care about them."

"But… but you did the same!" Rose protested. "You knew that she was a liar and immediately decided to tell everyone! You knew how harmful her false promises were and acted to protect everyone! But they just thought you were jealous and it's so unfair!"

Morana smiled softly and wiped away remnants of Rose's tears. "You were very brave, Rose. You had seen them not believing me and still acted to protect them. Some part of you knew they wouldn't believe but you trusted them enough to ignore that voice. It's not your fault Lila knows how to change your words to fit her narrative."

"I'm also very sorry, Marinette. Luka likes you and I doubt he would if you actually stole necklaces and pushed people down the stairs," Juleka chuckled before realisation dawned on her. It looked like a lightbulb in her head was turned on. "If you actually pushed Lila down the stairs, she would be seriously injured. And she would require medical attention anyway."

Juleka continued listing Lila's most obvious lies but Morana didn't listen. She just grinned. Apparently, some of her classmates did have more than one brain cell. And it was the most fascinating thing seeing one of them use it properly. Was it why the Doctor spent so much time with humans? Was it the reason he took them to see the Universe? To see them grow and change? To make them see the world in a different light? If so, then Morana could finally understand why the Doctor had so many human companions. Maybe, after getting her Time Capsule back she would invite someone to go with her. It would be fun.

"... Marinette? Marinette? Are you listening?" Juleka's worried voice drew her out of her thoughts.

"I'm sorry. Could you repeat the last bit again?" she asked, trying to look as sheepish as possible. Juleka and Rose exchanged a look that could be translated to "Marinette being Marinette and getting lost in thoughts as usual". Morana tried her hardest to not be offended, considering they weren't wrong but she did huff causing both girls to start laughing. At least Rose wasn't crying anymore.

"I asked what we could do to expose Lila. We could ask Jagged Stone to come. Or Clara. Or call Prince Ali," Juleka said after she stopped laughing.

"I don't think it's a good idea," she started. "Media would twist everything to fit their narrative. Why would a famous rockstar or a pop singer or an actual prince come to disprove lies of a teenager? A lot of people lie about knowing celebrities but nobody pays attention to them. Media would ask "what's so special about that girl?" and I'm sure Lila would use it to her own benefit," she said with a small sigh. They were Marinette's thoughts, her trying to not call Jagged to solve the Lila problem.

"You are right," Juleka said after thinking for a minute. "But how do we expose her?"

"It's simple. We won't," Morana simply stated. Juleka and Rose shared a confused look before looking at her expecting an explanation. "New teachers will. I want Damocles and Bustier fired. I believe new teachers won't be so lenient in their responsibilities and would look into Lila's medical history. They would also contact Lila's mother every time skips school or doesn't hand in her assignments."

"That's smart," Juleka admitted. She then frowned. "We are putting a lot of faith on those possible new teachers. How can we know they won't be the same as Damocles and Bustier?"

Morana slowly blinked. She hadn't considered that before. Now, she had no choice but to ensure new teachers would be chosen correctly. More work for her. Great

"Don't worry about it. It will be my problem anyway," she said with a small shrug. The girls didn't look convinced but they didn't argue further and Morana appreciated it. They didn't stay longer, there was homework and band practice for them so they couldn't lose more time. Another thing Morana appreciated because she wasn't sure how to make them leave. She needed some time alone. There was a lot of planning to do.

[the-record]

The City of Romance

Summary: On Spencer’s mandatory leave, he plans a trip to Paris, France where he meets an unforgettable face.

A/N: I got this idea during my language class. Please excuse my terrible French, I am still learning. This might be 2 parts? Maybe 3? I’ll figure it out. Anyways if you have any ideas for this or other requests let me know! 

Italics: Translation French to English.

This is more of an introduction <3

Part 2, Part 3

Check out my masterlist here!

For as long as you remembered, you had stayed with your mom in France during summers and worked at her café. Specifically her café in Paris. It was a dream. She made lots of business and your family was already pretty well off. You met lots of people working this job, however one seemed to stick out to you.

“Bienvenue! Que puis-ie vous offrir aujourd’hui?”  “Welcome! What can I offer you today?”

“Sorry, I don’t speak French.” You smiled at the tall man in front of you. He was handsome and seemed kind but nervous.

“No worries. Welcome, what can I get you today?” He seemed relived at the fact you spoke English. You would’ve too. 

“Can I get a coffee, 2 boxes of macarons, and 3 chocolate croissants?” You smiled and typed in the order on the computer on the counter.

“Of course. Will that be all?” He smiled and nodded. “Great. Your total is 24.50.” He handed you the foreign currency and you started to make his coffee and box his treats. “Here you are. Have a great day...”

“Spencer. You too,” He looked at your name tag, “Y/N. I should be on my way, I have a flight. Bye!” You smiled and waved. 

The rest of the day you couldn’t get that boy out of your head. You were a little disappointed that he would have already left France but the thought of visiting your uncle made it better. You stayed with your mom in the summer and your dad the rest of the year. After he passed, your uncle had promised to take care of you while you were in America. You were a grown adult but that didn’t stop him. Even 3 weeks later, as you boarded the flight, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer. What did he need 3 chocolate croissants for? You need the delectable treats you brought for your uncle. He was going to meet you at his work and asked you to bring something for him. You couldn’t bring something just for him though, so you brought something for all of his team. You had never met his team but that didn’t stop you. They were his family, so they would be yours too. 

He met you downstairs on the ground floor after you got through security.

“Bella!” You smiled and basically ran to hug him.

“Uncle David!” He squeezed you tight. 

“How was Paris? And your flight?” You giggled a little.

“It was beautiful as always. You have to come visit me and mom some time. My flight was weird. Not in a bad way, I just met someone I guess and, never mind. How are you?”

“I’m good. I think coming out of retirement was definitely a good idea.” You both talked all the way up and all the way to his office. 

“Oh, I totally forgot. I brought you guys some stuff from the café. Mom started working with a local bakery and their macarons are just perfect. And don’t even get me started on the croissants.” You pulled out the boxes from your bag and placed them on his desk.

“I know just the person who would love some of these. Come on, I will introduce you to her first.” You smiled and followed him to a dark room with a wall covered with monitors. 

“Wow.” In such a dark space sat a bright colored blonde. Her outfit had lots of fun colors and her hair was curled. Her makeup and earrings were fun and exciting. Everything about her radiated good energy.

“Rossi what’s- And who is this beauty next to you? Hoping she’s not wife number 4.” You laughed.

“This is my niece Y/N. Y/N this is Penelope Garcia our technical analyst.” You held out your hand.

“It’s great to meet you Penelope. I heard you like pastries?” You held out a box and her face lit up.

“I love them! Ok wow, these look amazing, where are they from?” Her smile was huge as she looked at the croissants.

“Actually they’re from Paris.” Her jaw dropped. “My mom owns a café and bakery in Paris France. I’m just here during the year for school.” She is still stunned.

“Well wow. I don’t know what else to say. Wait yes I do. Thank for these!” You smiled.

“Of course. If you ever need some just tell David and they will be sent to your front door.” She held her arms out for a hug which you gave her.

“Alright, well I am going to take Y/N to meet the rest of the team. Bye Garcia!” She waved as you two walked out.

“I like her. She’s very fun. Not boring like you.” You joked. You saw a group of people standing over by a counter and that’s when you saw him. The man from the café. “Long time no see.” He was a little confused when he heard you, but when he saw you he understood.

“Oh hey Y/N. What are you doing here?” 

“I’m just visiting my uncle. So this is where you were rushing off to then?”

“Yeah.” You saw a small smile creep on his face. It wasn’t a lot but you noticed it.

“Woah let’s slow down here pretty boy. Rossi, who is this?” You stared over at the man next to him. He was tall with a strong build and holding a cup of coffee.

“This is my niece Y/N. Y/N this is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and I guess you already know Spencer.” You nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” They all stared at you both positively bewildered. “Oh, uh he came by the café I work at. He got a bunch of macarons.” 

“Wait, you work where those came from?” The lady who was apparently known as Emily.

“Yeah, my mom owns it and I work there during the summer. Speaking of.” You pulled out a smaller box filled with cookies and macarons. “These are for you guys.

“Thank you gorgeous. I guess we may have to thank Spencer then for introducing us to these.” You giggled softly.

“I guess you will.” Your phone rang and you noticed the caller ID to be your mom. “Sorry. I have to answer this real quick.” You walked a few feet away before answering. “Salut maman!” “Hey mom!”

“Salut bebe! Avez-vous atterri?” “Hi baby! Have you landed?”

“Quais. Je parle en fait aux collegues de David. Puis-ie vous appeler un peu?” “Yeah. I’m actually talking to David’s colleagues. Can I call you in a bit?”

“Bien sûr. Je t'aime.” “Of course. I love you.”

“Je t'aime aussi. Au revoir.“ “I love you too. Bye.” You hung up the phone and headed back over to them.

“Well genius what did she say?” You laughed as you walked back.

“He wouldn’t know.” They all gave you an odd and ashamed look for asking him. 

“She’s right. I don’t know French.” 

“Spencer Reid. You have an eidetic memory and went to a new country and didn’t learn French?”

“Well I learned a little but I didn’t really need to learn any. A lot of the natives knew English.” You nodded.

“He’s right. And it was my mom, she was asking if I landed.” Suddenly another blonde woman popped over. JJ. You had met her before by accident. Last time you came to visit you had a late flight in and so when you came by David’s house he was having a dinner party but everyone had left except her. She wanted to get to know you and you got coffee. “JJ!” 

“Oh my goodness Y/N! What’re you doing here?” She pulled you into a quick hug.

“I’m staying with David now for school because of what happened.” She gave a sympathetic smile.

Your father had passed away from a house fire. He was a bit older and already had health issues so the smoke inhalation was too much and he sadly passed.

“That’s great. How’s school been going?”

“Pretty well. I take some extra courses during the summer so I am looking for a job currently because I have everything I need done.”

“What career are you going into?” Derek questioned.

“Teaching. Specifically elementary because I can’t stand teenagers. They do not hold back, and as great as some of them are, I want my kids to be able and come see there first or kindergarten teacher years from now. I think I may have found a school around here but they haven’t gotten back to me yet.” They all nodded. “Well I was going to get some coffee if anyone wants to come along.”

“Reid why don’t you go?” Derek was patting him on the break to try and convince him to.

“Uh sure. If that’s okay with you of course.” You smiled.

“Of course. Let’s go I guess.” You walked with Spencer out to your uncles car that he so kindly lent you for the time being. He kept your car at his mansion so you wouldn’t have to worry about it. “Where should we go? I don’t normally come down here with David so I don’t really know a ton.” You asked as you got into the drivers side.

“There’s a little coffee shop not to far from here.” He gave you the directions as you drove. When you got there you ordered a coffee and a sandwich. Truth be told you were starved.

“So what degrees do you have?” He sipped his coffee before answering.

“I have a PhD in math, physics, and engineering as well as 3 BAs.” You jaw was 6 feet under. You assumed he was smart but damn.

“Wow. That’s... Impressive.” You laughed softly.

“Yeah. What about you? You said you wanted to be a teacher.”

“I have a bachelors in elementary education and one in special education. That is more so I can be more inclusive in the classroom. Honestly it’s pretty smart to get one because all children learn in very different ways. Like me, I loved reading when I was a child but I learned better by listening and looking at pictures. Some children think noise is distracting or that bright fun colored pictures are so we have to think about all of them and not just the majority. So far I have found a lot of different teaching methods to cater to all students. It’s really interesting. Sorry I’m rambling aren’t I? I do that when I get excited.” He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. One time I told a detective that it’s safer to kiss instead of shake hands.”

“Ooh. Yikes. Don’t tell that to kids though, they will run around kissing each other and get some kind of disease I swear.” Conversation flowed easily between you both. You both took turns rambling while the other listened. It was comforting to have someone who actually listened and could understand you when you spoke a mile a minute. 

He couldn’t help but think the same. Most of his friends had teased him over his facts. You listened and asked questions. You didn’t cut him off or laugh. You were actually interested as was he when you spoke. You talked pretty fast but he managed to keep up. Before you realized it was no longer 1:30. It was 4:15. You had talked with him for hours and it only felt like minutes. You texted your uncle that you would just wait in the car for him but when Spencer got out you felt like you had to do it.

“Wait! Spencer!” He stopped and spun to see you running towards him. “Would you like to go out for dinner sometime? Maybe this weekend if you’re not on a case?” His smile was blinding.

“I love that.” You exchanged phone numbers.

“Perfect. Hopefully see you this weekend.” You placed a quick kiss on his cheek before running back to the car. He felt weak in the knees and thought he might collapse right then and there. Luckily he kept himself up until he got to the office. He was so excited and while he may not be religious, he prayed there wouldn’t be a case.

[pessimisticlatte]

Glass Roses - Chapter 8

Marichat ~ Adrienette ~ Chlobrina ~ Alya x Nino ~ Nathalie x Emilie ~ Lukagami ~ Platonic Marigami ~Eventual reveal~

I hope this is fluffy enough!!!

~~~~~~~~~

Something was different about Adrien, Nathalie could sense it. She’d raised him all by herself for so long that his changes in emotion, however subtle, were easier to read than a children’s picture book. When she’d woken him up, he’d been curled on top of his covers with his phone held to his chest, a faint smile graced his lips as he moved slightly in his sleep and sighed. Adrien had hugged her too. He hadn’t hugged her since he was a toddler and she’d be lying if she said that she didn’t miss giving the boy reassurance through the physical contact his father denied him.

He was taller than her too, the top of Nathalie’s head brushed his jaw as he pulled his father’s assistant and the woman who had nurtured him for so long into a crushing hug. With her glasses askew, Nathalie awkwardly rubbed the teenagers back, hugging him now was so different to how it had been when he’d been a bawling child not understanding why his mother only appeared in photos and never to hold him. Adrien pulled away and placed his hands on Nathalie’s shoulders, a broad, serene smile plastered on his slightly stubble framed mouth.

“Thank you, Nathalie,” Adrien’s green eyes were infused with the same smile on his lips. 

“Thank me for what, exactly, Adrien?” Nathalie furrowed her brows and pushed her glasses up with her index finger, Adrien’s hands still braced on her biceps.

“I never thanked you for raising me,” The dimples in Adrien’s cheeks grew deeper as his mouth formed the words. “I thought that I didn’t have a mother, but I was wrong because I have you. My blood-mother is gone and you chose to love me because she couldn’t; I know that you loved my Maman, Nathalie, and I love you enough for both her and I. Like a mother of course,” Adrien gave an awkward but sincere laugh. “I love you like a mother. I don’t think anyone would have done as good a job as you considering our circumstances, thank you so much for loving me like I’m your own.”

Nathalie didn’t understand where this was coming from, but after the words she’d heard Gabriel say a few days ago and the reopened wound of Emilie’s state, his words meant more to her than he would ever know. Gabriel had said that Adrien needed his mother, needed Emilie, but Gabriel had never stopped to see that Adrien already had a mother. Maybe not in name or blood but in deed, Nathalie had been the one that read Adrien’s report cards and congratulated him on his outstanding marks when Gabriel had barely glanced at them; she’d been the one to sign him up for fencing and cheer him on as he won his first competition; Nathalie had been the one to kiss scraped and bruised knees, to attend assemblies, to buy birthday and christmas presents. Emilie, her beautiful Emilie, gave her the swiftly growing man before her and Nathalie had loved him when her own husband could not find the time to.

“W-where is this coming from, Adrien?” Nathalie’s eyes were slowly filling with tears. So many emotions whirled in her chest that she couldn’t decipher if a single one had called them forth or if it was all of them.

“During the holidays, one of my friends told me that Dad would be proud of me, Maman too,” Adrien ran a hand through his sleep tousled hair and gave Nathalie a half-smile. “She also said that you’d be proud of me. I didn’t think much of it at the time but the more I thought about what you do for me, the more I realised that you being proud of me was worth more than anything in this entire world. I spoke to her last night,” Adrien didn’t mention that Marinette had actually sent him a message on the first day back at school, over a month ago, saying that she hoped he’d do Nathalie proud this year and that she may not be the mother he’d spent years pining over but she was the one that had raised him when it wasn’t her burden to bear, he’d saved the message in the notes section of his phone and read it almost daily. The thought of Nathalie being proud of who he was was so much more important to him than the entire trip he’d spent by his father’s side in New York. “And she reminded me to be thankful for what I have.”

“Your friend seems like a very smart young lady,” Nathalie’s lips broke into a watery smile as Adrien’s words became tattooed on her heart, her soul. “Would she be the type of girl you’d bring home to meet your father?”

“Meet Dad?” Adrien feigned confusion. “Nah, but meet my mum? I think she’d love her.”

“M-mum?” The word was not unfamiliar to Nathalie, Adrien and Gabriel had used the words ‘maman’ and ‘mother’ many times but only when referring to Emilie. Nathalie hadn’t had time to have a family of her own, the Agreste’s had become that for her. She’d stood beside Emilie on the day she married Gabriel, she’d held Emilie’s hand as Adrien was born, she’d cried over Emilie’s comatose body after the combining of the broken Peacock miraculous and Butterfly miraculous had suspended her soul in purgatory; then she’d stayed with her beloved’s family, falling for her husband and raising her son. The Agreste’s were her family, or Adrien was at least.

“Would you prefer something else? Mama?” Adrien’s eyes were huge and innocent, sending Nathalie back to the day she’d told baby Adrien that Emilie was gone. His question was sincere though, his eyes searching for validation from the one person who had never left his side.

“Mum is fine, Adrien,” Nathalie choked a sob and pushed her slipping glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I-I’m...I’m...so happy that you think of me as your mother.”

“I’m happy that I have you,” Adrien pulled Nathalie into another hug, careful not to knock her glasses sideways this time. “I’m sorry that I never thanked you before for loving me, taking care of me.”

“It’s alright, I never expected that you’d see me as anything more than your father’s assistant,” The awkwardness had faded away, replaced with a giddy happiness. Nathalie hugged Adrien back, her arms wrapped around the thin waist of the teen as her smile grew wider.

“You’ve raised me more than he has and it wasn’t even your job to do it. I know you get paid to be his assistant and everything but you never had to accept the task of looking after me. You did accept the task though, and because of you, I’ve had at least one solid person in my life,” Nathalie hiccuped. “You’d love her, Mum, and I’m sure she’d love you too.”

Adrien pulled away with his own tear drenched smile and met Nathalie’s eyes through her tear fogged classes. “To know that I’m making you proud, that I’m becoming half the person you are, is worth more than any priceless possession or trivial compliment anyone could give me,” Nathalie brushed her fringe out of her eyes, the dark locks had tangled with her lashes and were now damp with salt-water tears.

“I am proud of you, Adrien, so proud of you,” She placed her hand on his cheek and thought of Emilie. Emilie had seemed even more perfect with baby Adrien in her arms, sitting on the chair beside her, Nathalie had imagined that they were hers, that the tiny dozing bundle in Emilie’s arms would grow up with the most loving mothers the world could bless him with. At that frozen moment in time, Gabriel had disappeared to a conference on winter fashions in Los Angeles and had missed the first moments of his wife and child. He’d appeared for several minutes after the birth to discover the sex of his offspring, he’d given Nathalie congratulations to pass on to Emilie and then walked down the hall with a ramrom straight back. “Emilie is proud of you too, I can feel it. You’re such a wonderful boy and you’re growing into an incredible man, we’re so proud of you.”

Adrien pressed a kiss to Nathalie’s cheek and said that he needed to get ready for school, with an overwhelmed smile Nathalie had left him to prepare as she organised his breakfast. They ate together, something neither of them had really done before, Nathalie generally stood at Adrien’s side and watched him eat in complete silence after Gabriel had made another excuse not to spend time with his son but now she sat with him as he told her a story about one of his friends at school forgetting to tie their shoelaces up and face-planting in the middle of physical education.

She savoured this moment, the first moment she’d really been a mother. Emilie had been a mother as soon as Adrien had left her body in a rush of pain and screaming but Nathalie had become one as soon as Adrien had hugged her and thanked her for loving him. He was more animated than she’d ever seen him, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he spoke and grinned at the laughs she gave in response to his awful jokes. This is how he should have been, this is the life Adrien had deserved the minute he began growing inside Emilie, and Nathalie knew that Emilie would want him to be happy, even if it meant she wouldn’t get to see it.

After she’d walked Adrien out the door and waved goodbye to him, Nathalie walked to her office and locked the door behind her. With a half sob-half laugh, she picked up a picture frame on her desk and looked at the glossy photo encased in the glass. Emilie holding toddler Adrien with Nathalie’s arm wrapped around her in the shining green of a park, they looked like a family, like the family he should have had. Looking at Emilie’s radiant face, Nathalie came to the realisation that she’d never actually loved Gabriel how she thought she had but that she’d loved the constant state of agony he’d left her in after he’d told her of his plan to raise Emilie. He’d made her a promise and she’d fallen in love with his honeyed, poisoned words, thinking him to be a replacement for Emilie when he wasn’t even a shadow of the solar eclipse she had been. Putting the frame gently down on her desk as she rounded it, Nathalie angled toward the top drawer of her desk.

Opening the drawer, Nathalie removed the false bottom and pressed her thumb to the fingerprint scanner beneath, the metal beneath the scanner clicked and allowed Nathalie to remove that too. Inside the drawer was a miraculous box, holding the brooch that housed Duusuu, the Peacock Kwami. With careful fingers, Nathalie pulled the box from the drawer and flipped it open, calling the Kwami to materialise in front of her.

“Nathalie!” The Kwami dragged out the last vowel of her name as she embraced Nathalie’s face. “You’re all better now! Gabriel said that you might not get better, you look better, are you better?”

“Yes, Duusuu, I’m better,” The Kwami fiercely hugged Nathalie’s cheek and let out a happy, keening squeal. “But there’s been a change of plans.”

“A change of plans?” Duusuu released Nathalie’s face and floated in front of her, the creature’s fin-like arms crossed over her smooth lilac chest. “What does a change of plans mean?”

“We have to get Nooroo and the Butterfly miraculous away from Gabriel,” Nathalie pushed her glasses up and cut a serious gaze to the large eyes of the Kwami.

“B-but why? Don’t you want to help him wake up Emilie anymore? I’m all better and you’re all better so we should be able to get Tikki and Plagg’s miraculouses now with no trouble and wake her up!” Duusuu did a flip in the air in an attempt to remind Nathalie why they’d been bonded.

“I can’t let him wake her up, Duusuu, it would ruin everything,” Duusuu stopped her aerial acrobatics and furrowed her tiny, hairless brow. “Emilie wouldn’t forgive him for what he did to wake her up, she wouldn’t forgive him for neglecting Adrien, and Adrien,” Nathalie sighed heavily. “Adrien hasn’t seen his mother since he was a toddler and while he didn’t say that she was dead, he wouldn’t know how to act if he saw her again. It would tear him apart.”

“You loved Emilie, didn’t you?” Duusuu sat on the edge of Nathalie’s desk and arranged the strange feathers of her tail prettily around her.

“I still love her, and I know that she wouldn’t want this,” Nathalie’s voice turned sombre but she knew, she KNEW, that this was the right thing. Nooroo was too dangerous in Gabriel’s hands and if Gabriel succeeded in his foolish mission to bring Emilie back, he would ruin things more than he already had when he forced her to combine them. The claims he made about doing it for Adrien were utter bullshit, if he wanted anything to do with his son he would’ve spent the past decade and a half raising him. Gabriel was selfish and only wanted the woman who made sunshine seem as dark as a void to exist for him and him alone. He may have loved her, in a twisted way, but he didn’t love Emilie like Nathalie did. “Adrien is my son, I raised him, and Gabriel no longer gets a say in what would be best for the child that he neglected.”

“You know that I would never argue with you, Nathalie, but if I did, I know I would’ve lost this one,” Duusuu blinked slowly and gave a small, toothless grin. “Are we going to give Nooroo to Ladybug and Chat Noir when we get him?”

“Yes, they’re the only ones who can keep him as far away from Gabriel as possible. They’re the only ones who stand a chance of saving Adrien,” Nathalie’s voice was hard, determined. She’d lost the love of her life, her best friend, to a selfish monster of a man but she would not lose her son and she would do whatever it took, even at the price of her own life, to protect him. “I need to speak to one of them, Ladybug or Chat Noir.”

“How’re you going to do that? They’ve seen you with Hawkmoth and I really don’t think they trust you very much,” Pursing her lips, Nathalie leaned back in the soft leather of her desk chair and pressed her hand to her lips.

“They might trust you,”

“T-trust me? They’ve never met me, I mean, Tikki and Plagg have but Ladybug and Chat Noir or whoever they are normally haven’t,” Duusuu flew up to Nathalie’s face and hovered anxiously, her huge eyes like full moons.

“Kwamis have the ability to find other Kwamis, right?” 

“Um...to a certain degree, yes,”

“To a certain degree?”

“Well, sometimes Kwamis bond, creating life-pairs. The bonded Kwamis can find each other very, very easily and tend to have emotional bonds, Tikki and Plagg are bonded. She’s still not very happy about it but they are, so it would be easy for either of them to find each other,”

“What’s that got to do with you finding one of them, Duusuu?” Nathalie was growing impatient. She’d been so patient for so long and now that she’d decided to stop Gabriel, she knew that it had to happen quickly.

“It means that I’m only going to be able to follow a vague trail to where one of them is, nothing super precise but I can find the general vicinity,” Nathalie raised an eyebrow. “Magical beings, like Kwamis, can sense each other to a certain degree if they aren’t bonded but if two Kwami’s bond, both of their auras become weaker to other Kwamis.”

“But could you find Tikki or Plagg?”

“Yes, but it may take me a while and it means, possibly, stressing Nooroo out,”

“Wait, wait, wait, you looking for Tikki or Plagg will stress Nooroo out? You’re not going to tell him what’s happening, he’s a powerful Kwami but his mental health is fragile and he would be counterproductive to what we’re doing if he knew what was happening before he’s safely with Ladybug and Chat Noir,”

“He and I are bonded,” Duusuu’s voice was quiet, she fiddled with her fins in front of her. “If my emotional aura is too far away from him, he could worry and send him into an anxiety attack. Nooroo and I bonded after Emilie fell into her coma and we were both freed from our miraculouses. He needed a shoulder to cry on, he was absolutely destroyed by what had happened to Emilie, and I was fading away, my grief tearing me apart, so we bonded so I wouldn’t go wherever Kwamis go when we die and he would know that he was never, ever alone.”

“Okay,” Nathalie raised her hand to the Kwami who sat down on it softly. Pressing a kiss to the creature’s head, she offered her thumb to Duusuu to hold. “I’ll make sure that he doesn’t stress while you’re gone.”

“How’re you going to do that? It it’s that easy to get to him why don’t we get him now and I’ll take him and his miraculous with me to find Tikki and Plagg,” Duusuu’s voice sounded frantic.

“Nooroo can sense emotions and read brainwaves, right?”

“Again, to a certain degree,”

“Next time Gabriel frees Nooroo, I’ll tell him not to worry about you and that you’ll be home soon and that I’m going to be here to provide a calming aura for him until you return,”

“Thank you so much, Nathalie,” Duusuu flew forward and hugged Nathalie’s face again, her voice sounding as teary as possible for a magical peacock creature. “I’ll go find Tikki and Plagg now, please take care of him. I’m going to be back as soon as I can and we’re going to stop Gabriel.”

Duusuu saluted Nathalie with her tiny fin and flew straight through the window into the broad daylight of inner Paris. Spinning in her chair, Nathalie pressed her hand to the glass and watched the Kwami activate her invisibility power, Duusuu disappeared into the cloud dotted horizon.

“Be safe, Duusuu,” Nathalie whispered her request to herself, her thundering heart beating a tattoo against her ribcage. She wasn’t nervous, not anymore. Emilie would do this for her, Adrien would do this for her, so she would do it for them. Gabriel was a selfish, horrible man who didn’t deserve the love Emilie gave him and the son she bore, Nathalie would not feel an ounce of regret as she saved him and his son from himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Lila prowled out of the classroom, annoyance and anger rolling off her in thick, poisoned waves. Adrien had convinced Madame Bustier to reconfigure the desk arrangement, saying that Max would be much more suited to helping Lila catch up with schoolwork and that he didn’t feel that he would be able to provide accurate help as he was busy quite a lot of the time. Madame Bustier had eaten the excuse up and moved the desks around; the dark skinned boy with his smart green shirt and square glasses now in the place of the sunshiny one who she had fought tooth and nail to sit with. Due to this one small alteration, Madame Bustier had felt the need to move everyone around.

The teacher said that Alya and Marinette spent so much time giggling and gossiping at the back of the classroom that she was wondering if they’d actually picked anything up in the last few weeks. With a jokingly teary goodbye, Alya had moved down the front of the room and taken her new seat beside Rose as Marinette remained at the back of the room. Juleka had been moved from Rose’s side to Nathaniel’s, the two didn’t look too unhappy at the change and took this as a chance to get to know each other better. Nathaniel was an artist after all and Juleka was a talented musician and part time model; their artistic temperaments were sure to click beautifully. Chloe was placed next to Mylene, Sabrina next to Nino, Alix beside Kim. Glancing around the room, Madame Bustier realised that Adrien and Marinette were at desks by themselves, there wasn’t enough space to keep both of them with desks completely to themselves so she moved Adrien up beside Mari and slotted Ivan and Nino into the now vacant desk.

Lila wanted Adrien to pay attention to her, to love her. She would never get her revenge if the golden boy kept getting further and further away. A light, melodic laugh floated up from the courtyard below Lila, sending her to the rails to look over the edge.

Marinette was sitting on the ground in front of Alya, on a bench, who was braiding her hair while she played a game of snap with Kagami, who had donned her blue kimono coat again. Nino had his laptop open and was fiddling around with some random program as Luka looked over his shoulder and pointed at things, giving him advice. Adrien was walking toward the group, Lila could feel the smile in his stride as he approached. Her hands squeezed the railing before her, the knuckles fading white as the long plastic of her nails dug into her palms.

“I’m not going to let you win this, Dupain-Cheng,” Lila hissed the noxious words through her teeth as she glared daggers at the group far below.

~~~~~~~~

Adrien felt weird around Mari, not bad weird but ‘I can’t tell my girlfriend that she’s my girlfriend because she thinks she’s dating a guy in a cat costume and doesn’t know that it’s me’ weird. She was radiant in the light, her happiness infectious. Her hair was shinier, her eyes more curious and searching, she looked how Adrien imagined happiness personified would look. He slouched onto the ground beside Mari and stretched out his long legs, her giggles were meshing with Kagami’s laugh as they played the least competitive game of snap he’d ever seen Kagami participate in.

As he watched Marinette and Kagami play, Alya folding the silky black strands of Mari’s hair into a thick, shiny braid, he thought of the talk he’d had with Nathalie before he’d left for school. When he’d gotten home last night from visiting his new girlfriend, he’d climbed into the shower and smiled into the scalding spray hitting his face; he wanted to tell someone, he needed to tell someone. He’d told Alya and Nino of course but he hadn’t told them as Adrien that he was dating Marinette and Marinette didn’t even know that she was dating him, but what about his father? Could he tell his Dad that he was seeing someone?

Adrien had realised in the shower, late last night, that his Dad really wouldn’t care. He’d rifled through every person in his life and realised that, for most of his existence, it had been just him and Nathalie. Climbing out of the shower and dressing, Adrien thought of the screensaver on his computer, a beautiful picture of his mother from before he was born, and felt a very strange sensation zap through the back of his head. He picked up his phone and opened the notes app, where he’d saved Mari’s text from ages ago, saying that she hoped he’d make Nathalie proud. Her words from the holidays played in his mind too, but they kept catching on the words ‘Nathalie’ and ‘proud’, the spare phone in one hand and his normal one in the other, Adrien sat on the edge of his large bed and looked around his room.

He didn’t keep track of how long he sat on his bed and stared into the dark corners of his room but he did remember when his mind had finally come to the conclusion that Marinette had told him to look closer at what Nathalie did for him. Maybe he was reading too much into her words, maybe he was looking for a clue where there wasn’t even a puzzle, but he crossed over to his closet and pulled the doors open. Sliding the clothes hung up inside along the rack, Adrien counted how many of them Nathalie had gotten for him, how many times she’d been the one giving him presents and supporting him; he lost count but he knew that the number was higher than the amount of times his father had even sneezed while physically in his presence. 

The spare phone was safely tucked between Adrien’s mattress and bed-head as he scrolled through the pictures on his phone. Not the ones with his friends or of Marinette/Ladybug but the ones of him at events and competitions, Nathalie was in all of them. Curling onto his side on top of his covers, Adrien decided that Nathalie was the person who meant the most to him, after Mari of course, and he’d never thanked her for it. She’d raised him pretty much single-handedly because Gabriel Agreste didn’t exactly exist to his son past an image on a tablet and an incredibly distant figure. 

Nathalie would love Marinette, Adrien decided, and he couldn’t wait to introduce them to each other. Adrien gazed at the ink-haired girl laughing and chatting before him, watching her lips move and her crystalline eyes roll as Kagami said something to her. 

“Yo, Adrien, come here,” Nino’s voice slapped Adrien out of his daze and called the lithe blonde boy to his side. 

“What’s up, man?” Adrien flashed Luka a smile as he walked around the other side of Nino to lean beside him. The music program Nino used for his dj-ing and music production was open, showing a tonne of different buttons and switches and coloured lines that Adrien really didn’t understand. 

“I’m editing a demo for Luka and I want you to give it a listen, we know that our boy,” Nino pointed his thumb at Luka who laughed and shook his head. “Is one talented jackass but you’re the one with the sensitive ears and Mari is the one who can get this dropped off to Jagged Stone.”

“You’re making a demo, Luka?” Luka cocked an embarrassed half smile and nodded. “That’s awesome! You’re in good hands with Nino editing it for you.”

“Nino’s been awesome so far, I’m lucky he’s taking the time out of his schedule to help me out,” Luka fiddled with the buckle of the leather bracelet wrapped around his wrist. Kagami saw Luka’s movements out of the corner of her eye and flicked her eyes up to meet his. They’d grown closer over the last few weeks, exchanging numbers 3 days in and speaking in any free time that they had. There wasn’t much in common between the two of them but that’s what made their conversations so interesting, past their shared languages and class, Kagami’s hobbies weren’t even on the same plane as Luka’s. She’d been slowly falling for him over the past few weeks, his easy smile and soft voice had the strings of her heart playing a melody of Luka’s making. He didn’t know how to tell her that he’d already fallen for her, and hard.

She was stiff sometimes, hard to talk to, monstrously competitive, achingly literal, and confusing as hell but Kagami was unlike anyone Luka had ever met. The rarity of her smiles made them work the weight of the Eiffel Tower in gold when she gave them and her occasional jokes were always perfectly timed, thought through and had yet to not send him into a deep belly laugh. Luka knew that he had a tendency to get lost in the currents of his music and float out to sea, everyone thought he was an anchor but he was more untethered than all of them, but Kagami had a way of drawing him back to reality. Her stoicism perfectly matched his spontaneity and balanced both of them out.

Kagami wasn’t good at reading emotions when they were aimed toward her, reading other people was easy but when they turned that attention to her, she would be completely unaware of how they felt about her unless they said it bluntly to her face. She wanted to know if Luka liked her but she didn’t want to give away that she liked him if he didn’t return her affections. Embarrassing herself was Kagami’s biggest fear and rejection was the second biggest, to be rejected and embarrassed would be her own personal hell. Luka couldn’t figure out how to tell her that he liked her, he had no problem with her rejecting him and he could tell that Kagami returned his feelings but he just didn’t know how to bring it up in conversation. The way her eyes lit up when she saw him and her posture softened had been more than enough to tell him that Kagami liked him back.

“That sounds awesome,” Adrien pulled Nino’s earphone off his head and held his hand up to Luka for a high five. Giving Kagami a sweet grin, Luka broke their gaze and turned to slap Adrien’s hand in the high five. 

“I think it’s missing something, I don’t know what,” Nino scratched his head and frowned slightly. Turning the bluetooth off on his laptop, Nino began to play the song out loud to the group. “What do you guys think?”

All chatter in the group died down, Marinette and Kagami paused their game of snap and Alya even stopped braiding Mari’s hair so she could dedicate her full attention to the music. Kagami tilted her head slightly as Luka’s rich singing voice began to filter through the small speakers of the computer, the words weren’t all in English but a mix of French and Spanish too; she caught the word ‘echo’ as the chorus began to play. The lines alternated between the three languages as Luka sang the chorus.

‘Echo, Echo, Echo, I never miss your voice,

Your eyes, your smile, your laugh,

Echo, Echo, you could play me in any key,

But I don’t know how to make you see,

You’re in my head, in my heart, in my soul,

When you’re here it’s hard to stay in control,

I’m not Narcissus laying by the pool,

You’re the only one, Echo, who makes me a fool,

My head is yours, my soul is your and my heart too,

Echo, Echo, Echo, you ground me,

I didn’t understand how perfect an anchor could be,

But I don’t know, Echo, Echo, how to make you see,’

Kagami translated the lines as the chorus played for the second time. Wa-was this song for her? She met his gaze again, questioning, and was given a poked out tongue as the only answer. Childishly, Kagami stuck her tongue out at him too, so Luka blew her a raspberry which earned Nino clapping his hand over the dark blue and black haired boy’s mouth.

“Piano,” The song ended as Mari’s head perked up with her answer. “It needs a piano. The acoustic guitar is perfect but with an accompanying piano, it could be so much more soulful. I’m not sure it’s going to be Jagged’s style but he’s not the one playing it and he knows better than to turn me down.” Marinette grinned at her friend. Chewing his lip, Adrien studied the computer screen.

“Actually, yeah, I agree with Mari,” Adrien inclined his head toward the girl cross-legged on the courtyard floor. “A piano melody would be perfect with this. Juleka could write up some piano chords for this, couldn’t she?”

Nino took his hand off Luka’s mouth and wiped it on his jeans with a grimace. “Jules definitely could but she’s so busy out of school currently, her modelling is picking up and so is her own music. She really doesn’t have the time, plus, Mum is hoping that she’ll decide to take the class Echo and I are currently taking next year,”

“Damn,” Adrien chewed his bottom lip and looked at Marinette for an idea. Maybe it was because he was the only one out of the two of them that knew they were together or maybe it was because he just wanted to look at the girl who owned his heart.

“You could do it, Adrien,” Mari’s eyes sparkled in the light filtering into the courtyard. “You’re a great pianist and I’m sure you’d be able to write the chords up during your piano lessons, hasn’t your instructor been asking you to write your own notes for weeks?”

“Yeah, Adrien, you could totally do that,” Nino grinned up at him. Alya and Kagami nodded too.

“If you’d be alright with me doing it, Luka, I’d be happy to do it,” Adrien straightened and looked at the musician beside him.

“That would be incredible, man, if you could,” Luka pulled Adrien into a hug. “It would be even more incredible if you could play it for me.”

“Play it for you?” Adrien looked bewildered. Seeing the expression on Adrien’s face had Alya leaning forward and whispering something to Marinette and Kagami that dissolved all three girls into a fit of badly contained giggles.

“Piano isn’t really my forte but I’ve heard you play and you’re really good. Plus, how many times would I be able to say that the amazing Adrien Agreste helped me produce my song?” 

“Count me in,” Adrien and Luka recreated Nino and Adrien’s secret handshake, Nino watched them do it was a satisfied smile. It had taken Luka way too long to learn the handshake and seeing him properly execute it made Nino very proud. “Let’s make some beautiful music, my friend.”

Adrien looked at Marinette, who leaned her head back in Alya’s lap and asked the red-headed girl something. Kagami was shuffling the deck of cards they were playing snap with, her mind replaying Luka’s song over and over again, changing the language each time. The whole song first in French, then Spanish, then English, it all had the same meaning but she didn’t know if the meaning she’d prescribed to it was the one it was meant to give. Luka could see the cogs turning in Kagami’s mind and hoped that she’d ask him tonight what it meant, he wasn’t sure if she would because she was almost as unpredictable as she was predictable and that only made her even more confusingly unpredictable. God, he loved her so much.

~~~~~~~~~

Mari had been carrying the number Chat had scribbled in her pocket all day, she hadn’t messaged it yet because she dissolved into a puddle of mush the minute she read the words ‘your boyfriend’ at the top of the torn piece of paper. She wasn’t happy that he’d written it on the edge of her maths homework but it was such a Chat Noir thing to do, to write it on a worksheet that she had to hand in the very next day. Whenever she thought of him, she’d slip her hand into her pocket and touch her fingers to the small scrap with a giddy smile.

Ducking into the bathroom before class started again after lunch, Marinette took out the slip of paper and took a deep breath. She entered the number provided into the contacts on her phone under the nickname ‘Furball’ and pressed the little message bubble that popped up as soon as she saved the contact. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard on the screen as her mind tried to formulate a perfect greeting for her brand new boyfriend. The bathroom door thunked open, in her anxiety, Mari ducked into the stall furthest from the second entry door and locked the cubicle, sitting on top of the closed toilet lid and pulling her legs up underneath her.

“Sabrina?” Chloe sounded worried, her voice following the closed slam of the secondary door as footsteps thudded against the tile floor. “Sabrina!”

“Leave me alone, Chloe,” Sabrina hiccuped, her voice thick with emotion. “Leave me alone.”

Had Chloe done something to hurt Sabrina? If Chloe claimed to have changed, why would she turn against her best friend?

“I’m not leaving you alone, Sabby,” Chloe’s voice got closer and sweeter, calming. “It was a lot of info to tell you at once and now probably wasn’t the best time but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

“W-why tell me now, Chloe? Before we have to go into class?” Sabrina’s voice wobbled around the bathroom, Marinette felt incredibly unwelcome but knew that she’d only make things worse if she gave herself away. She didn’t feel right, sitting here and eavesdropping so she texted ‘Hey Chaton’ to Chat and set her phone to vibrate.

“Because I love you, Sabby,” Chloe sounded as sad as Sabrina did as the words left her lips. Marinette covered her mouth to hold in a gasp, Chloe was in love with Sabrina? If Chloe loved her romantically, like the tone of her voice hinted toward, then maybe this is what drove her to want to change. “It took me too long to realise it and if a right time wasn’t going to just appear, I’d have to make one. You make me a better person.”

“I-I….,” Sabrina couldn’t form a word. Mari heard Chloe shuffle closer to her best friend and the telltale rustle of clothing as Chloe wrapped her arms around the sobbing Sabrina.

“You don’t need to feel the same way, Sabby, but I needed you to know because if I didn’t, I was going to explode,”

“I do feel the same way,” Sabrina’s response was muffled by wherever she’d pressed her face in Chloe’s embrace. “I have for so long and I never thought you’d notice. I never thought you’d actually pay attention to me past my hero-worship for you.”

“I was a bitch to you and you didn’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you,” Chloe’s voice was infused with unshed tears. Mari’s phone buzzed in her hand, Chat had responded. ‘What’s crackalackin’, purr-incess?’

“I wanted you to leave me alone so I could fix my makeup, Chloe,” The tear choked voice of Sabrina released a hoarse laugh which Chloe eched.

“I’ll fix your makeup, Sab, but you know that I’m going to find you gorgeous even when your face is bright red from crying,” A thwack told Marinette that Sabrina had just slapped Chloe’s arm for the comment, Chloe’s laugh was belly deep and surprisingly pleasant to Mari’s ears.

‘Just trapped in a bathroom, what’s crackalacking with you?’ Mari typed back with a smile. The two girls beyond the stall started chattering as Chloe fixed Sabrina’s makeup.

‘Being bored to death at school, why’re you trapped in a bathroom?’ Chat’s response was incredibly quick.

‘I fell in, why else would I be trapped in a bathroom?’

‘What have I told you about being careful when you play in the bathroom, Mari?’ Chat accompanied the message with an eye roll emoji.

‘Don’t fall in unless you can press flush?’

‘Smart girl! You remembered!’ Marinette felt a chuckle rise in her throat but she immediately bit down on her hand as she heard Chloe zipping her makeup case closed and the two girls prepare to leave the bathroom.

‘What about school is boring you?’

‘The fact that we haven’t started learning yet and I’m currently sitting at my desk listening to the most annoying person ever talk at me,’

‘Poor kitty,’

‘Please, beautiful and strong Marinette, save this helpless kitty from his annoyance and boredom,’

Mari pressed her lips together in a smile as the bathroom doors closed, signalling that she was now the only one in the bathroom. She lowered her feet to the floor and unlocked the cubicle, leaning against the frame of the stall as she responded; ‘No can do, Chaton, I’ve got school too and I don’t even know where you go to school, so how can I save you anyway?’

‘Put yourself in danger?’

Marinette cracked up laughing. ‘Absolutely not! I’m not going to put myself in danger to get you out of school!’

‘You mustn’t love me then,’ The text came with a crying emoji. Mari walked out of the bathroom, eyes still glued to her phone and made her way back to her classroom. Madame Bustier made no comment about Marinette walking up the stairs scrolling through her phone as she handed worksheets around the room, Mari walked around Adrien, who was scribbling something in his workbook, and took her seat with a small huff.

‘I do love you, silly kitty,’ She placed her phone down beside her pencil case and opened her own book. Adrien watched as Marinette’s brow scrunched from the equations Madame Bustier had pulled up on the projector. The worksheets made their way up to where they sat at the back of the classroom, Mari took one with a frown and rolled her eyes jokingly at Adrien who chuckled. His phone felt like a tonne of bricks in his pocket, the device had buzzed when Mari had sent her last message but he hadn’t had the chance to read it yet. He ached to know what she’d said to him after he’d teased her. Lila had been trying to talk to him when he’d been texting Marinette, the now platinum blonde swinging her booted feet as she sat on his desk and prattled. He’d given the occasional ‘uh huh’, ‘yeah’ and ‘cool’ when he felt inclined to but his eyes and complete attention remained glued to the phone in his hands. Lila hadn’t been impressed with his complete ignorance of her and had tried to pry the device from his hands twice in the time she’d gradually encroached further and further into his personal space. Chloe and Sabrina had come back into the classroom hand in hand, giggling, and Madame Bustier had asked everyone to return to their desks. Adrien shoved his phone in his pocket and watched the door as Marinette walked in, up the stairs, and to her seat.

Once Mari started working, Adrien sneakily pulled the phone from his pocket and gently pressed the on button. ‘I do love you, silly kitty’ glowed up at him from the illuminated screen, he glanced at Marinette as a smile curved across his face and his heart started beating 40 million times faster. He was so, so in love with her and she couldn’t even see it, as she chewed on the end of her pen Adrien wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. Oh, he was hopeless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Duusuu hadn’t been lying about being able to find Tikki and Plagg but she also hadn’t been completely truthful. Once Kwamis bonded, they gained the ability to switch their auras off for anyone that wasn’t their bonded. Seeing as Tikki actively tried to stop Plagg from finding her, Duusuu wasn’t sure that she’d be able to track even the faintest remnants of the Ladybug Kwamis power; Plagg had a tendency to be absolutely useless but he was also incredibly bad at covering his own tracks so she hoped against hope that he hadn’t started using his meagre brain power in the last thousand or so years. The Peacock Kwami’s magic utilised sentiment, unlike Nooroo’s power which was based off emotions, and there was a slim chance that she could trace them though places that held importance to either of them.

Once she’d flew a considerable distance away from Nathalie’s office and made herself invisible, Duusuu had arched out her magic in as wide a radius as she could possibly could. She hadn’t seen Tikki or Plagg in so long that the attachment she had to both of them was nothing more than a gossamer thread. There was a strange aura around the Agreste Mansion though, the purple-black that Duusuu associated with Plagg was faintly filmed over the window of Adrien’s room and, for a reason she found both completely predictable, the kitchen pantry. Glancing around, the same purple-black aura seemed to waft around a balcony on top of a bakery in the distance; the top floor of the Eiffel tower, and the Franciose Dupont college. Tikki’s crimson seemed to sparkle dimly around the balcony, the Eiffel tower and the college as well as the carousel in the middle of a park of the Champs Elyeese. Well, they certainly had some awfully strange places they’d tacked sentiment to but judging by the ones they had in common, Duusuu decided to check the ones they had in common first.

They had sentiment associated places all over Paris too but they weren’t as strong or as mixed as the incredibly faint ones surrounding the bakery, Eiffel tower, and the school; as fast as Duusuu could float, she zoomed toward the college. The crimson and purple-black auras twined around her the closer she got; Duusuu flicked on her magic aura for the first time since she’d bonded with Nooroo. She sat on a gutter at the top of the school and waited in silent hope that at 2:47 on a Thursday afternoon Tikki and Plagg would be within the walls of College de Francoise Dupont with their guardians.

~~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~~ @lady-charinette @mochegato @starkerismyking @katieykat513 @maniic-pixie-dream-girl @nifflerstorm @aussie-lesbian

DM to be tagged!!

[zebrabaker]

A Spider’s Web, A Ladybug’s Delight

Here it is!

Marinette turned to open the door with her shoulder, stepping into the bakery proper. She crouched down, setting the tray of sugar cookies into the lower display case. She heard the bell ring, and called.

“Be with you in just a minute!” Then, came a warm chuckle, and a reply in English.

“No rush, my little lady.” Marinette nearly dropped the tray. She slammed the tray into the case, and bolted up.

“Peter!” She ripped off her apron, and leapt the counter. She threw herself into the arms of a tall boy with honey brown hair and molten chocolate eyes. “When did you get here? Why are you here?” He ran a hand up and down her back, and kissed the top of her head, which she had tucked into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

“Mister Stark pulled me out of school for the next two months. Said it’s for internship stuff, but really, we’re going on a tour of Europe, as mentor and student.” It dawned on her. That was their code for super-hero stuff. “We’ll be staying for a week, then heading for Germany, then Sokovia. So, I was wondering, as I’ve already gotten Mister Stark’s permission, if you’d like to join us? We’d need your parents per-mph!” Peter was cut off by Marinette kissing him. She pulled away, and he smiled dopily.

“Absolutely! Mama and Papa have been begging me to go traveling with Nona again for a long time. With everything happening at school, I’ve really considered taking them up on it! C’mon, let’s go ask them!” Marinette grabbed his hand, dragging him to the back room.

“Mari, slow down!” Peter chuckled, following obediently.

“Sorry, I’ve just missed you so much. Do you wanna eat something?” She blushed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“It’s fine, my little lady. Food sounds wonderful. Got any of those chocolate chip cookies?” He smiled. God, he’d missed her.

“Always, but you may have to fight Tiki for them.” She spun on her heel, heading more slowly for the kitchen after flipping the sign on the door to closed. “Papa, look who came to visit!” She said to the tall man, who was whisking egg whites.

“Who is-oh! Peter!” He set aside the bowl and whisk, before grabbing the boy in a hug that lifted him off the floor slightly.

“Good to see you, too, Monsieur Dupain. Err, could you put me down?” Tom chuckled, dropping Peter to his feet. “What are you doing in Paris?”

“I’m here on internship with Mister Stark, we’ll be traveling through Europe for the next two months. We,” He gestured between himself and Marinette. “have a question for you and Missus Cheng.”

“Of course! Marinette, did you flip the sign?” Marinette nodded, and Tom flipped off the ovens, and lead the way up to the apartment. “Honey, we have a guest!

“I hope they like dumpli- Peter! Oh, how good to see you! How have you been dear? It’s only been a few months, but it feels like it’s been years! Come in, come in!” She ushered him into the living room, beaming. She, like Tom, adored Peter, and thought he was perfect for Marinette. She had received endless teasing over when they would get married. “Marinette, help me with tea!” Sabine snagged her daughter’s arm, pulling her into the kitchen.

X0X0X0

After a large, sumptuous dinner, and several cups of tea, the four returned to the living room.

“So, Peter, you said the two of you had a question for us.” Sabine said, eyes gleaming as she sipped her tea.

“Yes, we do, Missus Cheng. You see, Mister Stark and I are touring through Europe for the next two months for my internship, so that I can learn more about the European branches of Stark Industries. We’ll be staying at Le Grand Paris for the next week, then going to Sokovia. After that, we go to Germany, then Russia, and then Italy. We’re rounding out the trip in Spain and the Netherlands. Mister Stark had already given the okay for this, so all we’d need is your permission. Marinette and I were wondering if, if it was all right with you, can Marinette come with us?” Peter reached over and wove their fingers together tightly. “Mister Stark is already providing tutors for me, so that I can keep up on my schooling, and has said that they can tutor Mari as well. All we need is for you to say yes, and file some paperwork so that she can leave the country with Mister Stark and I.” Mari bit her lip, nervous that they would say no. Tom and Sabine glanced at each other, communicating with their eyes in a way that only those who knew each other well could.

“Yes, Marinette can join you on your tour. We’ll fill out the papers tomorrow, and get them to you by lunch! For now, you better head back to your hotel, it’s getting late.” Tom spoke, standing to escort Peter to the door. Marinette knew the two would be having a talk, as well. Her Papa had always been rather protective.

“Marinette, would you like help packing?” Sabine asked, gathering the tea cups from the table.

“Sure, Maman. Are you sure you’re okay with taking care of Tiki while I’m out of town?” Tiki was a lovebird that her Nona had gotten for her a few years ago. She was a sweet little thing, who loved chocolate chip cookies, however bad they were for her.

“Of course, dear. It will be a good experience, what with all that’s going on at school. It will also let you network for your design career. Tiki will be fine, as will your Papa and I. Are you excited?” Sabine glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Absolutely! I can’t wait! I haven’t seen Peter in person since summer break, and I’m so happy to be able to finally meet Mister Stark. He matters so much to Peter, and I really hope he likes me.” Marinette sighed.

“Of course, he will. If not, I’ll smack him with my broom until he sees sense.” Sabine huffed from the sink where she had pushed up her sleeves to do dishes. The two often didn’t see eye to eye on Marinette’s self-worth. Sabine saw only the best in her daughter, while Marinette had certain self esteem issues.

“Maman! You can’t beat Tony Stark over the head with a broom!”

“Bah! I don’t care who he is, I’ll smack him all the same! My daughter is amazing, beautiful, brilliant, creative, compassionate, daring- “

“You’re just listing off traits in alphabetical order, Mama!” Marinette was as bright as a tomato.

“And they’re all true!” Sabine hmphed.

X0X0X0

It had been almost a week, and Marinette was leaving by train to Sokovia early the next day. She had woken up early, to make sure she had everything packed before school. She grabbed a black skirt and purple blouse she had made a few weeks back, and paired them with a pair of black flats with little silver tassels. She put on the silver and rose quartz bracelet and locket. The locket was heart-shaped, and had a picture of her and Peter over summer break tucked inside. She slid in her great-grandmother’s onyx earrings, and tossed her hair in a bun, feeding Tiki on her way out the door.

“Maman, I’m headed to school, see you at lunch!” Marinette called on her way through the bakery.

“Have a good day, dear! Tell Peter I said ‘hello’!” Sabine yelled back. See, today, Peter would be joining Marinette at school, to ‘learn more about foreign education’.” It was really an excuse for Peter to hang out with her at school. Tony had bribed Monsieur Damocles into letting Peter spend a day with his girlfriend, claiming it was ‘a contribution to the education of the future’.

“Morning, my little lady. How’ve you been?” Peter asked, flashing her a smile that made her own grow.

“Peter, it’s been two days since we last saw each other.” She slid her hand into his.

“I know.” He smiled down at her – why was he so tall, it was so unfair – and took her bookbag from her shoulder, sliding it onto his. “I still wanna know how you’ve been.”

“Pft. I’ve been good, you dork.” She mockingly nudged her shoulder with his.

“Hm. I’m your dork.” She nodded sagely.

“This is true. We’re here!” She dropped the façade of wisdom, tugging him along by the hand. “I can’t wait to introduce you to Madame Mendelieve! She’s a wonderful teacher, and really excited to meet the person who’s been helping me with my science grades!”

“Hey, Marinette!” Adrien called, walking over from where Chloe had been hanging off of his arm.

“Hm?” Marinette turned from where she had been babbling. “Oh. Hello, Adrien.” Her face went slack, losing all emotion.

“Mari? Who’s this?” Peter asked, slipping an arm around her waist.

“Peter, this is my classmate, Adrien Agreste. Adrien, meet Peter, my boyfriend.” She smiled, sharp and a little cruel. “Peter, let’s head to class.” She said in flawless English.

“Whatever you want, Mari.” The couple spun on their heels, heading in to the building, leaving a stunned blonde behind.

[snarkybluechristian]

Villainous: Reform School Chapter 3

Version:1.0 StartHTML:000000203 EndHTML:002816556 StartFragment:002760405 EndFragment:002816524 StartSelection:002760405 EndSelection:002816520 SourceURL:https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php

Melanie arrived in Flug’s plane hangar after a tense ride with her parents in their limo-plane.

“We’re here, Senor and Senora de la Muerte,” Mr. Ochocinco said just able to conceal the sadness in his voice.

He and Melanie exchanged sad smiles as Melanie’s parents climbed out in front of her and immediately exchanged pleasantries with Doctor Flug.  They could not say anything but their sad expressions said it all.

“To thine own self be true,” Mr. Ochocinco whispered.  “You’re in my prayers.”

“Merci,” Melanie whispered back.

“Melanie,” Faucheuse called out to her.  “Come on out.  Dr. Flug wants to see you.”

Melanie grabbed her beige knapsack and reluctantly climbed out of the car to see the notorious doctor.  

“Hello, Melanie,” Flug said solemnly.  “Welcome to Black Hat Island.  You look…casual…”

Melanie looked away and didn’t respond to his snide comment about her clothing.

Her parents were dressed formally while the young teen was wearing jean capris and a black tank top that was covered in a black-hooded jacket with 505 on the back.  She wore the hood over her head covering her hair and barely concealing the gold earrings dangling from her ears.

“Alright then, if you will follow me, I’ll show you to Black Hat’s office,” Flug said turning around and walking back to the manor.  “May he have mercy on your souls.”

Senor de la Muerte gently nudged his daughter’s back as she walked just ahead of her parents behind Flug.

Melanie had barely made eye contact with her parents since last night.  She gazed up at her father only to see that his fierce gaze remained steady as they made their way to Black Hat's office.

In no time at all, Melanie and her parents made it to Black Hat’s office.  

“Here, we are,” Flug said.  “Black Hat said you could just enter whenever you were ready.”

"Melanie, be on your best behavior!" her mother hissed.

Melanie sighed.  Her mother’s tone hadn't changed since last night.  

Melanie's father opened the door and they were greeted by the sight of Black Hat's office.

“There, you are!” a shrill feminine voice suddenly yelled from down the hall.  

Melanie and her parents gasped as Dementia ran towards them only to be grabbed by a giant Black Hat Butler Bot and carried away amid her protests.  

Flug walked in front of them blocking Dementia from making them look bad and laughed nervously.

"Uh, p-pardon her," he stuttered. "Sh-She always gets like that with visitors. Isn't that right, Jefecito?"

The three then turned to the person they were supposed to meet.  He stood in the back of the office, behind his desk facing the window.  His head turned to face them still holding his hands behind his back.

Melanie’s father cleared his throat trying not to show his fear in front of his daughter.

"H-Hola, Señor Black Hat,” Santa Muerte said.  

“Sit down,” Black Hat said.  “Now.”

Melanie flinched at the sudden presence of his voice, but they did as they were told.  Conveniently, three office chairs had been set up in front of Black Hat’s desk just for them.

Melanie sat down in a chair on the side furthest from the door, slipped her feet out of her black sandals, crunched up into a ball, folded her arms on top of her knees, laid her head on top of them, and stared blankly ahead with a defiant yet apathetic expression.

Black Hat turned around to look at Melanie and her family and instantly felt a migraine run through his head but managed to keep his composure.  

The girl truly had a Divine connection.  The situation was as bad as he suspected.

Melanie smiled aware of the pain he was going through.  He deserved it and much more.

“Good morning, black demon,” Melanie said breaking the silence.  “How’s it going?”

“Mélanie!” Faucheuse chided with a heavy French accent.

Melanie didn’t even flinch.  She merely rolled her eyes before looking away in response.

“I apologize,” Faucheuse said.  “She’s been like this all morning.”

Black Hat rolled his eyes and faced the parents in question as he sat in his chair.

"Tell me.  How long have your families known my organization?" Black Hat asked.

"Generations, of course, sir,” Faucheuse replied.

"Then, would your daughter care to explain why she decided to be a hero among generations of villains?" Black Hat asked turning to Melanie who was now playing on her phone.

Melanie looked up from her phone and responded, “I felt called to something much better, so after I was baptized, I decided to become a nun-ja.”

“Well, tell us,” Santa Muerte said to his daughter putting his hand over her phone.  “Who are these ‘nun-jas’ exactly?”

“I can tell you that,” Black Hat replied.  “The nun-jas had their start in the 1500s when Catholic missionaries went to Japan. Despite the friendly intentions of the arrivals, the Japanese emperor didn't trust them and had many of them killed in sadistic ways along with their converts…”

Black Hat interrupted his explanation to chuckle to himself and said, “It was hilarious.  Anyway, one day, a group of nuns was fleeing to the mountains to escape their persecutors when they found themselves cornered in the woods. They thought all hope was lost until a mysterious group of female ninjas sympathetic to the nuns' plight defeated their attackers in battle. These ninjas and nuns formed an alliance. With the nuns' faith and supernatural connections and the ninjas' skills, they formed the nun-jas. This organization of nuns has spread worldwide as an alternative for nuns who want to be active in the fight against evil. Their mission is to do good without the right hand knowing what the other is doing. They do good without drawing attention, so their organization is very silent about their activities. They operate underground, meet in secret, and have unprecedented levels of encryption to hide their tracks digitally. Girls start training in adolescence or in late childhood under the guidance of senseis, and as they grow in skill and in faith, they grow in ability. Nun-jas are known for their divinely enhanced strength and stamina and sometimes even for divine healing. Not much else is known about their activities or how they function. Trying to get answers out of one is a waste of time. Nun-jas are notoriously resistant to enhanced interrogation methods. They either survive until their interrogators give up or they die with their secrets. They never talk...”

Black Hat flashed a wicked smile at Melanie before he continued, “I can only imagine what a good find you were for them, child. You are the first nun-ja I've ever seen who's part Reaper.”

Melanie only glared back in response.

“In other words, they’re heroes,” Santa Muerte said in despair.

“Exactly,” Black Hat replied.

“Oh, where did we go wrong with you, ma fille?” Faucheuse muttered sadly with tears forming at the corners of her eyes.  “How could we have let this happen?”

“This is unbelievable,” Flug said shaking his head in contempt.  “You raised her.  You had to have noticed something was going wrong.”

“Don’t you mean that something was going right?” Melanie added while texting on her phone.

“Shut it,” Flug said to her before turning back to her parents.  “How could you two have been so negligent?  You had to have noticed that she was starting to develop some heroic tendencies.”

“She’s never had many evil tendencies,” Santa Muerte explained.  “We thought she’d develop those as she got older, especially as she continued her education at the school where we sent her older sisters.”

“And how about at home?” Flug asked.

“She mostly got into fights with her oldest and youngest sisters,” Faucheuse answered.  “They tend to pick on her behind our backs, but besides that, nothing particularly evil.”

“Hmmm…” Flug said rolling down his sleeve and using a gadget on his wrist to pull up a holographic screen.  “What can you tell me about this school?”

“Our Lady of Perpetual Gladness?” Faucheuse asked.  “Well, we were hoping the harsh rules and administration would help embitter her into becoming a proper villain.”

Flug pulled up some information about the school and said after searching for less than a minute, “Well, it appears this school has had a change of administration over the years."

“And what happened?” Santa Muerte asked.

Flug looked through his information and said, “More fair rules, better staff, and kinder teachers. In fact, it looks good enough to pass as a normal Catholic school.”

Melanie scoffed and added sarcastically, “I know.  I'm happy and I have friends.  God forbid...”

“Melanie!” Faucheuse chided.

“Melanie, we want you to be happy, but this is unacceptable!” Santa Muerte added.

“Why?” Melanie asked finally turning around to face her parents.  “I am not a member of this dumb organization!”

Black Hat’s eyes twitched as he replied, “Dumb?!”

Flug laughed nervously.

Faucheuse yelled, “Melanie, how dare you?!  This organization has helped our family time and time again!”

Melanie scoffed as she got to her feet and began her tirade, “Help us?!  Like hell!  Open up your eyes! They've enslaved you!  This demon has enslaved our family for generations!  That's what they do to everyone who gives in to their crappy propaganda!  Sure, they offer favors and help and might get you something you want now and again.  But it's just so they can deceive you into basically giving up your souls and any freedom you had before to make your own decisions!  Then, if you ever step out of line or ‘fail’ them in any way, they have the right to destroy you like you're nothing!  The Black Hat Organization hasn't improved our lives, Maman (mom).  They've doomed me, my sisters, you, and papa into eternal servitude. Not to mention...”

Melanie now directed her rage towards Black Hat and Flug, “They use their resources to help the genuinely bad monsters who make this world such a cursed place, to begin with! And now, you think I'm just going to pledge my loyalty to you just because my parents have?! There's no way!”

Melanie’s eyes began glowing white.  Telepathic pulses began flowing out of her head causing all the electronics in the room to malfunction.  The lights in the room blinked on and off.  Her hood fell back.  Her hair began flowing with a  supernatural force.

Flug began to visibly panic, but Black Hat continued to sit in his chair with all his composure intact.

Melanie’s voice distorted as she directed more of her fury towards Black Hat, “I HAVE HATED THIS GODDAMN ORGANIZATION FOR MY ENTIRE LIFE!  I HATE HOW YOU HURT THE INNOCENT!  I HATE HOW YOU RUIN THE WORLD!  I HATE HOW YOU ENSLAVE PEOPLE LIKE MY PARENTS!  I HATE HOW YOU HURT HEROES WHO ARE JUST TRYING TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE!  AND FOR YOUR INFORMATION, AS A FOLLOWER OF THE DIVINE, I HATE YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU STAND FOR! IF YOU THINK THERE'S ANY WAY I'M GOING TO JUST APOLOGIZE AND GET BACK IN LINE, YOU'RE AS DELUDED AS ONE OF YOUR BRAINWASHED EMPLOYEES! AND I DON'T CARE HOW THAT MAKES YOU FEEL!  In fact…”

Melanie smirked as she transformed completely into her nun-ja garb, summoned her scythe, and said, “If you want to duke it out now, I'd be glad to.  I'm part-reaper.  I know how to send bad souls back home…”

“MELANIE!” Santa Muerte yelled.  “Stop!”

Melanie calmed down, let her scythe disappear, turned to her parents, and said, “Come on, guys!  Don't you see?!  This could be our chance to win our family's freedom once and for all.  In fact...”

Suddenly, the PA system started playing the opening to “the Gauntlet” by Dropkick Murphys.  

“What the…?” Flug asked calling for Dementia with his wrist device.

Melanie jumped on Black Hat’s desk and started dancing and singing, “I just got back from a break in the fight! I was weighin' in heavy but still feeling alright.  All I hear in the distance, mines and shells! Here come the sirens wailing! Another attack to be repelled…”

Melanie unleashed her wings and started flying back and forth between both of her parents with each lyric, “Do you think we're gonna make it?  I don't know unless we try.  You could sit here scared to move, or we could take them by surprise.  It's submission that they want.  It's surrender that they need.  When we're doing it their way their aims will be achieved…”

Melanie stopped flying and stood on the tops of their chairs to sing, “They're gonna come when you're not ready.  When you're not too well-prepared.  They're gonna prey upon your weakness, no man's soul is ever spared. You've got to stand up, yeah, and fight them. Show them what it's all about…”

Melanie gestured to her parents and said, “This man is not for sale.  There will be no backing down!  Stand up and fight! And I'll stand up with you! We will succeed! Stand up and fight! And I'll stand up with you!”

Dementia broke open the door, saw Melanie standing on the tops of the office chairs, and tried to grab her, but Melanie flew into the air dodging her with a mocking smile as her parents dashed to Black Hat’s side to get out of the way.

Melanie continued singing while dodging Dementia’s lunges, “They won't get me, they won't get me. Though they never cease to try.  They won't get me; they won't get me!  I would rather fight and die! They won't get me; they won't get me!  Well my friend, will they get you?  When they get you, when they get you, you tell me.  What are you gonna do?”

Melanie placed her feet on the ceiling, held herself up by her wings to avoid Dementia, and sang, “Do you think we're gonna make it?  I don't know unless we try.  You could sit here scared to move, or we could take them by surprise.  It's submission that they want.  It's surrender that they need.  When we're doing it their way, their aims will be achieved…”

Meanwhile, Flug pulled up the app to summon the Black Hat bots, but Black Hat whistled to Flug, looked him in the eye, and shook his head.  Flug stood there bewildered while he and his boss kept watching.

Dementia crawled up on the wall and began chasing Melanie around the ceiling while she continued to sing, “They're gonna come when you're not ready.  When you're not too well-prepared.  They're gonna prey upon your weakness, no man's soul is ever spared.  You've got to stand up, yeah, and fight them. Show them what it's all about.  This girl is not for sale!  There will be no backing down!  Stand up and fight!  And I'll stand up with you!  We will succeed!  Stand up and fight!  And I'll stand up with you!”

During the guitar solo, Melanie swiped her scythe towards Dementia’s feet making her jump, and of course, lose her grip on the ceiling causing her to fall on the floor behind the dumbfounded parents.

Melanie then dissolved her wings, flew around on her scythe for the duration of the guitar solo, and landed on Black Hat's desk singing the outro, “Stand up and fight!  And I'll stand up with you!  We will succeed!  Stand up and fight!  And I'll stand up with you!”

The music ended.  Melanie posed and stood there waiting for her parents to say something.

Finally, Faucheuse spoke, “Melanie, did you forget to take your medicine today?  There's something very wrong with you.  Your ADHD is out of control.”

Melanie’s mouth fell open in shock as her outfit and scythe vanished.  

Tears formed at the corner of her eyes as she quietly muttered, “What?”

Sante Muerte pulled his daughter off the desk while Black Hat glared angrily.

“Apologies, sir,” Santa Muerte said pushing his devastated daughter back into her seat.

“Wait,” Flug said.  “Your daughter has ADHD?”

“Yes, ever since she was little,” Faucheuse explained.  “Sometimes, it's hard to keep her under control.”

“What is that?” Dementia asked as she stood up and rubbed her head.

“Attention-Deficit / Hyperactivity Disorder,” Flug explained.  “It's a mental disorder that causes a person to have little to no control over their focus, their emotions, the amount of energy they have, or their impulses.  A person with this disorder is more likely to be reckless.”

“But…” Melanie protested timidly.

“We thought we had her disorder under control with medication,” Santa Muerte interrupted as he and his wife returned to their seat.  “I guess we were wrong.  I'm sorry.  I suppose we really have been neglecting her.”

Black Hat flashed a wicked smile to Flug that allowed him to immediately catch on to his wicked train of thought, “Dr. Flug, is there anything we can do to help this girl?”

“Hmmm…” Flug said scratching the top of his paper bag.  “Okay, I'd like to recommend we try something, but we need your permission.”

“What is it?” Faucheuse asked.

“I'd like to keep your daughter here for the day under observation,” Flug said.  “Don't worry.  Your daughter will not be harmed at all.”

Melanie suddenly snapped out of her stupor feeling the righteous indignation rise inside her and yelled, “No.  No!  NO!  Are you crazy?!"

“The only one being crazy right now is you, Mija!” Santa Muerte retorted.  “I think this is exactly what we need.  What do you think, dear?”

Faucheuse looked sympathetically at Melanie before turning to Flug and saying, “Yes.  Let's see how this goes.”

“So, you're going to leave me alone with a crazy lizard lady, a mad scientist, and a demon?!” Melanie asked incredulously.

“Uh, I prefer the term ‘evil genius,’ Flug replied.  

“See?  He’s not even trying to deny it!” Melanie protested.

“What do we do first, Dr. Flug?” Santa Muerte asked ignoring his daughter’s protests.

“Well,” Flug said.  “If she's going to stay here, why don't you bring some of her belongings?  A change of clothes?  Maybe some snacks?  And of course, her medication.  You will be free to call me anytime while she's here.”

“We already brought her supplies just in case,” Faucheuse said turning to the door.  “Monsieur Ochocinco?”

Ochocinco came in sadly carrying Melanie's duffel bag that she still had packed from last night.  He gave Melanie an apologetic glance before lowering the duffel bag to the floor, bowing his head, and exiting the room.

“That should have everything she needs,” Faucheuse said.  “Now, where’s that paperwork?”

Black Hat summoned some check-in paperwork onto his desk and said, “I just need both parents to sign off on this.”

Flug glanced over the papers on the desk and said, “Yes, sign these papers authorizing us to have custody of your daughter until tomorrow morning.  Then list all her current allergies and medication. And agree that we are authorized to care for her. AndthatsheisnowownedbodyandsoulbyBlackHat.

“Bull!!!!” Melanie yelled.  “I know how your stupid contracts work. I can only make that agreement for myself.”

“You heard that?” Flug asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Faucheuse explained while looking up from reading the paperwork.  “Her disorder makes her more sensitive to sound and other stimuli.”

“Maman, arrête (Mom, stop it),” Melanie protested in French.  “Il va me blesser avec ton information (He is going to hurt me with your information).”

“Ça ira, Mélanie, » Faucheuse reassured.  « Ça ira. Je te promets (It will be okay, Mélanie. It will be okay. I promise).”

« Tu sais que c'est un mensonge! (You know that's a lie!)” Melanie protested.

“Melanie, we're not giving you a choice!” Santa Muerte chimed in.  “¡Esto es para tu propio bien! (This is for your own good!)”

“I seriously doubt that!” Melanie protested.  “Why are you doing this?!  Why can't you just accept me for who I am?!  I'm not evil.  So what?!”

“It's one thing to not be evil, but it's a whole other thing to be a hero!” Faucheuse argued.  “We still accept that you're our daughter and we want to help you!”

“But I love being a hero!” Melanie cried.  “I love serving the Lord.  I love my nun-ja sisters!  I love helping people!  It's who I am!  There's nothing wrong with me!  I don't need help.”

“I’d beg to differ,” Black Hat chimed in.

Faucheuse began tearing up and said, “Oh, what did we do wrong?  She really is completely a hero.”

Santa Muerte held his wife and said, “Ya, mi Amor (Now, my love), don't cry.  This is why we're here.”

“Don’t worry,” Flug reassured.  “Melanie will be in our capable hands.”

“No…” Melanie said with the tears flowing steadily out of her eyes.

Faucheuse pulled her daughter into a hug and said, "Don't worry, sweetie. Once you're re-educated, you will be much happier."

“I seriously doubt that!!!!” Melanie yelled pushing her mother off her.

“Oh, honey, maybe this is a bad idea,” Faucheuse said to her husband giving her daughter another hug.  “Look at how upset she's getting.”

“If the school refused to be hard on her, we must be in their place,” Santa Muerte said to his wife before looking at his daughter.  “Lo Siento, (I'm sorry) Melanie.”

“Emotional outbursts and tears are very common at this stage,” Flug reassured.  “Fixing her medication might help.”

“Of course,” Santa Muerte replied picking up the pen to sign the document.  “We will do what we can.”

Melanie broke out of her mother’s arms, got into Flug’s face, and yelled, “You're not going to treat me like a damn guinea pig!”

“That medicine helps you stay calm and focused, instead of jumping around the office like you just did,” Santa Muerte argued as he signed the documents and handed the pen to his wife.  “We are not treating you as a guinea pig.”

“Of course, we're not!  You shall be treated as our guest...” Black Hat said with a mischievous smile.  “…who can't leave for the day.”

Melanie glared at Black Hat and then looked back in horror as her mother also signed the documents.

“I'm glad we could come up with a solution for you,” Black Hat said.

Flug pressed a button on his watch calling 505 and asked, “505, would you come to Black Hat's office to help us escort a new patient?”

505 answered with affirmative grunts as Flug ended the call.

Melanie's parents encircled her in a hug as tears filled up her eyes.

“Now, remember to keep your phone charged,” Santa Muerte said before giving his daughter a kiss on the cheek.  “We'll be calling you after every meal and before you go to bed.  Te Quiero.  (I love you.)”

“Be sure to listen to Dr. Flug and Mr. Black Hat, ma fille,” Faucheuse said kissing her daughter on the other cheek.  “Be a good girl and text us if you need to talk. Ca ira, Melanie. Je t'aime aussi.  (It will be okay, Melanie.  I love you, too.)”

“Traitors,” Melanie managed to get out through her tears.  

Black Hat rolled his eyes and whispered to Flug, "Why do these parents always have to make it so dramatic?"

“We’ll come back in the morning, Melanie,” Santa Muerte said.

“505 will escort you, your daughter, and luggage to…” Flug paused.  “Hey, Jefe!  Which room are we giving Melanie?”

“That newly refurbished one, you fool!” Black Hat replied.  “You know the one that used to be for…”

“Ohhh...” Flug said understanding immediately.  “That one.  Okay.”

Melanie scowled at Flug and said, “If you think I'm going to willingly stay here, you've got another thing com-…”

Melanie paused when 505 appeared in the doorway.

“There, you are, 505,” Flug said happily.  “I'd like you to take Melanie to her room.  She's going to be...”

Flug was interrupted by Melanie squealing joyfully at the top of her lungs.

“OH, MY GOSH!  OH, MY GOSH!  OH, MY GOSH!  IT'S 505!” Melanie squealed phasing through her parents’ embrace with her Reaper powers, dashing past her chair to grab her shoes and purse, and running over to the confused blue bear.  “You're my favorite gamer ever!  I'm a huge fan!  I'm Melanie de la Muerte!  I watch all your streams!  I've seen all your videos!  You're so cool!  I can't believe I get to meet you in person!  This is simultaneously the worst and best day of my entire life!!!!!!!!  Can I take a selfie with you please?!”

505 smiled and nodded.

Melanie and 505 squished their faces together to take a series of selfie pictures on Melanie's phone.

“Thank you!” Melanie began chattering happily.  “I'm totally being forced to stay here against my will. I got in trouble for being a hero, so now, I have to be ‘observed,’ but having you here makes it like a billion times better already…”

Without warning, Melanie wrapped her arms as wide as she could around 505’s torso giving the bear a big hug.

“God bless you!” Melanie said warmly hugging the dumbfounded bear for a moment before she paused, let go, and anxiously made herself step away.  “Oh, I'm sorry. I should have asked first. I can be a bit over-eager and I know not everyone likes hugs and my parents get onto me about being awkward like that so...”

505 smiled and held Melanie in a warm embrace interrupting her nervous ramble.

“Awww!  You really are the sweetest bear ever!” Melanie said with relief in her voice before remembering something important and jumping out of 505’s arms.  “Hey! Your games are all here and you're streaming today, right?!”

505 responded with a nod.

Melanie gasped and said, “Can I join you?!  Do you mind?!”

505 excitedly nodded enjoying the attention this girl was freely giving him.  He got on all fours and signaled for her to ride on his back.

“Oh, my gosh!  I can't believe this is happening!” Melanie yelled excitedly dropping her phone in her purse, putting her knapsack on her back, quickly hugging her parents, and climbing onto 505’s back.  “This is so cool!!!!!!!”

505 began frolicking down the hall as all the dumbfounded villains crowded around the doorway and watched bear ride away with Melanie.  

“Bye, Mom and Dad!” Melanie yelled as she and 505 disappeared down the hall.  “I'll see you tomorrow!  This is going to be one of the greatest days of my life!!!!  I have to tell all my friends!!!!”

Everyone continued to stand there until Melanie and 505 had vanished.

[easyfoodnetwork]

Author Adib Khorram Is Always Looking for His Next Meal

Khorram talks to Eater about writing food scenes, the concept of the “cultural iceberg,” and tea — and reads an excerpt from his YA novel, Darius the Great Is Not Okay

In Adib Khorram’s novel Darius the Great Is Not Okay, protagonist Darius Kellner, a self-described “Fractional Persian,” visits Iran with his mother, father, and younger sister. There, he comes to terms with his identity and his place in his family, he strikes a new friendship with Sohrab, and he eats a whole lot of food. Darius also loves tea — it’s a ritual that calms him, and one he can share with his dad, with whom he doesn’t necessarily see eye to eye.

Like Darius, Khorram loves food and tea too, which is why it plays such a large role in his first novel, as well as the sequel, Darius the Great Deserves Better, which comes out on August 25 and is currently available for pre-order. In the new book, there’s plenty of food scenes — “food plays a big role because as always, I was hungry when I was writing,” says Khorram, and he teases that, yes, there’s plenty of Iranian food, tea, and even breakfast for dinner. (Khorram also has a children’s book, Seven Special Somethings, coming out next spring, all about Nowruz.)

During Eater Book Club, Khorram shared that he likes Harney & Sons and Steven Smith Teamaker as tea brands, and for Iranian tea, he suggests a mix of Assam and Earl Grey, or looking for Iranian tea blends. He recommends people who want to cook Persian food for the first time start with the cookbook New Food of Life by Najmieh Batmanglij. His favorite local bookstores are Rainy Day Books in Fairway, Kansas, and the Raven Bookstore in Lawrence, Kansas.

Below, find an excerpt from Darius the Great Is Not Okay, which Khorram read live for Eater Book Club on Instagram Live with host Sonia Chopra on Thursday, April 2, as part of the Eater @ Home virtual event series.

I gave the horseshoe knocker three quick raps. Mahvash Rezaei answered. There was a smear of white powder across her forehead, and some had gotten into her eyebrows, too, but she smiled when she saw me—that same squinting smile she had passed down to her son.

“Alláh-u-Abhá, Darioush!”

“Um.”

I always felt weird, if someone said “Alláh-u-Abhá” to me, because I wasn’t sure if I should say it back—if I was even allowed to—since I wasn’t Bahá’í and I didn’t believe in God.

The Picard didn’t count.

“Come in!”

I pulled my Vans off and set them in the corner next to Sohrab’s slender shoes.

There was a wooden partition separating the entryway from the rest of the house, with shelves covered in pictures and candles and phone chargers. The rugs were white and green with gold accents, and they didn’t have little tassels on them like Mamou’s. The house felt cozy, like a Hobbit-hole.

The air was heavy with the scent of baking bread. Real, homemade bread, not the mass-produced Subway kind.

“Have you eaten? You want anything?”

“I’m okay. I had breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” She steered me toward the kitchen. “It’s no trouble.”

“I’m sure. I thought I should come visit, since it’s the day after Nowruz.”

I felt very Persian.

“You are so sweet.”

Darius Kellner. Sweet.

I liked that Sohrab’s mom thought that about me.

I really did.

“You are sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m okay. I had qottab before I came.”

“Your grandma makes the best qottab.”

Technically, I had not tasted all the possibilities, but I agreed with Mahvash Rezaei in principle.

“She sent some with me,” I said, holding out the plastic container I’d brought.

Mahvash Rezaei’s eyes bugged out, and I was reminded of a Klingon warrior. Her personality was too big and mercurial to be contained in a frail human body.

“Thank you! Thank your grandma for me!”

Khanum Rezaei set the qottab aside and went back to the counter by her oven. It was dusted with flour, which explained the mysterious white powder on her face.

Her sink was overflowing with whole romaine lettuce leaves, bathing under the running water. I wondered if it was for the bread. I didn’t know of any Iranian recipes that involved baking romaine lettuce into bread, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.

“Um.”

“It’s Sohrab’s favorite,” Khanum Rezaei said, nodding toward the sink. “He and his dad love it.”

Sohrab’s dad.

I felt so bad for him.

Also, I felt confused, because I didn’t know anyone whose favorite food was romaine lettuce.

Sohrab Rezaei contained multitudes.

“Can you take it outside for me?” Mrs. Rezaei scooped the leaves into a colander, banged it on the sink a few times, and handed it to me. “Put it on the table. I’ll go get Sohrab.”

The Rezaeis’ garden was very different from Babou’s. There were no fruit trees, no planters of jasmine, only long rows of hyacinths and a collection of huge pots filled with different herbs. The largest was right next to the kitchen—it was nearly two feet across and three feet high—and it was being assimilated by fresh mint.

Mint is the Borg of herbs. If you let it, it will take over each and every patch of ground it encounters, adding the soil’s biological and technological distinctiveness to its own.

There was a charcoal grill in the middle of the garden, the big round kind that looked like a miniature red Starbase. The only table was a Ping-Pong table, close to the door where I stood holding the dripping romaine leaves.

“Khanum Rezaei?”

There was no answer.

Was the Ping-Pong table the one I was supposed to put the romaine on?

Did Iranians say Ping-Pong, or did they say table tennis?

We didn’t cover the history of Ping-Pong/table tennis in Iran during our Net Sports Unit in physical education, which now seemed like a ridiculous oversight.

Khanum Rezaei popped up behind me. I almost dropped the lettuce in fright.

“I forgot this,” she said, squeezing behind me and flapping a giant white-and-blue tablecloth over the Ping-Pong table. It tented up over the little posts for the net. “You can spread the leaves out to dry some.”

“Okay.” I did what she asked, spreading the leaves out so they overlapped as little as possible. The water seeped into the tablecloth, turning it translucent.

“Darioush!”

Sohrab grabbed me around the shoulders from behind and swayed me back and forth.

My neck tingled.

“Oh. Hi.”

He was wearing plaid pajama pants so huge, he could have fit his entire body down one leg. They were cinched around his waist with a drawstring. I could tell because he had tucked his green polo shirt into his pants.

As soon as Sohrab saw the lettuce, he let me go and ran back inside, talking to his mom in Farsi at warp 9.

I had become invisible.

As I watched Sohrab through the doorway, he seemed younger somehow, swimming in his pajama pants with his shirt tucked in.

I knew without him saying it that he was missing his dad.

I felt terrible for him.

And I felt terrible feeling sorry for myself. Another Nowruz had come and gone for Sohrab without his father, and I was worried about feeling invisible.

But then Sohrab looked back at me as I watched him from the doorway, and his eyes squinted up again. His smile was a supernova.

“Darioush, you like sekanjabin?”

“What?”

“Sekanjabin. You’ve had it?”

“No,” I said. “What is it?

He pulled a short, wide-mouthed jar out of the fridge, said something quick to his mom, and came back outside. “It’s mint syrup. Here.” He unscrewed the jar, shook the water off a piece of lettuce, and dipped it in the sauce.

If his face was a supernova before, it became an accretion disc—one of the brightest objects in the universe—as soon as he tasted his lettuce.

I loved that Sohrab could be transported like that.

I took a tiny leaf and tried the sauce. It was sweet and minty, but there was something sour too.

“Vinegar?”

“Yes. Babou always adds a little.”

“Babou made this?”

“Yes. You never had it?”

“No. I never heard of it before.”

How did I not know my grandfather made sekanjabin?

How did I not know how delicious sekanjabin was?

“He is famous for it. My dad . . . He always grew extra mint, for Babou to use when he made it.” He gestured out to the garden. “You saw our mint?”

“Yeah.”

“Now it grows too much. Babou hasn’t made it for a while.”

“Oh.”

Sohrab dipped another leaf and then passed me the jar.

It was perfect.

“Thank you for coming over, Darioush.”

“It’s tradition to visit your friends the day after Nowruz.” I took another leaf to dip. “Right?”

Sohrab squeezed my shoulder as he inhaled another piece of lettuce. He nodded and chewed and swallowed and then squinted right at me.

“Right.”

After I helped Sohrab polish off every piece of lettuce on the table—two whole heads—he ran to get dressed, while I watched Khanum Rezaei make her bread. She pounded out the dough with her floured palms, then sprinkled a mixture of dried herbs and spices on top.

“Do you like this bread, Darioush-jan? Noon-e barbari?”

“Um. Yeah. Mom gets it from the Persian bakery sometimes.”

“You don’t make it at home?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll make some for you. You can put it in the freezer and take it home with you.”

“Maman!” Sohrab had reappeared in the doorway, dressed in real pants and a white polo shirt. He said something to his mom in Farsi, something about dinner, but it was too quick. “Come on, Darioush. Let’s go.”

“Um. Thank you,” I said to his mom. I followed Sohrab to the door and laced up my Vans.

There was something he wanted to show me.

Excerpted from Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram, (c) Penguin Young Readers.

Buy Darius the Great Is Not Okay: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop

Pre-order Darius the Great Deserves Better: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2UYTcoT https://ift.tt/2xLIbPX

Khorram talks to Eater about writing food scenes, the concept of the “cultural iceberg,” and tea — and reads an excerpt from his YA novel, Darius the Great Is Not Okay

In Adib Khorram’s novel Darius the Great Is Not Okay, protagonist Darius Kellner, a self-described “Fractional Persian,” visits Iran with his mother, father, and younger sister. There, he comes to terms with his identity and his place in his family, he strikes a new friendship with Sohrab, and he eats a whole lot of food. Darius also loves tea — it’s a ritual that calms him, and one he can share with his dad, with whom he doesn’t necessarily see eye to eye.

Like Darius, Khorram loves food and tea too, which is why it plays such a large role in his first novel, as well as the sequel, Darius the Great Deserves Better, which comes out on August 25 and is currently available for pre-order. In the new book, there’s plenty of food scenes — “food plays a big role because as always, I was hungry when I was writing,” says Khorram, and he teases that, yes, there’s plenty of Iranian food, tea, and even breakfast for dinner. (Khorram also has a children’s book, Seven Special Somethings, coming out next spring, all about Nowruz.)

During Eater Book Club, Khorram shared that he likes Harney & Sons and Steven Smith Teamaker as tea brands, and for Iranian tea, he suggests a mix of Assam and Earl Grey, or looking for Iranian tea blends. He recommends people who want to cook Persian food for the first time start with the cookbook New Food of Life by Najmieh Batmanglij. His favorite local bookstores are Rainy Day Books in Fairway, Kansas, and the Raven Bookstore in Lawrence, Kansas.

Below, find an excerpt from Darius the Great Is Not Okay, which Khorram read live for Eater Book Club on Instagram Live with host Sonia Chopra on Thursday, April 2, as part of the Eater @ Home virtual event series.

I gave the horseshoe knocker three quick raps. Mahvash Rezaei answered. There was a smear of white powder across her forehead, and some had gotten into her eyebrows, too, but she smiled when she saw me—that same squinting smile she had passed down to her son.

“Alláh-u-Abhá, Darioush!”

“Um.”

I always felt weird, if someone said “Alláh-u-Abhá” to me, because I wasn’t sure if I should say it back—if I was even allowed to—since I wasn’t Bahá’í and I didn’t believe in God.

The Picard didn’t count.

“Come in!”

I pulled my Vans off and set them in the corner next to Sohrab’s slender shoes.

There was a wooden partition separating the entryway from the rest of the house, with shelves covered in pictures and candles and phone chargers. The rugs were white and green with gold accents, and they didn’t have little tassels on them like Mamou’s. The house felt cozy, like a Hobbit-hole.

The air was heavy with the scent of baking bread. Real, homemade bread, not the mass-produced Subway kind.

“Have you eaten? You want anything?”

“I’m okay. I had breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” She steered me toward the kitchen. “It’s no trouble.”

“I’m sure. I thought I should come visit, since it’s the day after Nowruz.”

I felt very Persian.

“You are so sweet.”

Darius Kellner. Sweet.

I liked that Sohrab’s mom thought that about me.

I really did.

“You are sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m okay. I had qottab before I came.”

“Your grandma makes the best qottab.”

Technically, I had not tasted all the possibilities, but I agreed with Mahvash Rezaei in principle.

“She sent some with me,” I said, holding out the plastic container I’d brought.

Mahvash Rezaei’s eyes bugged out, and I was reminded of a Klingon warrior. Her personality was too big and mercurial to be contained in a frail human body.

“Thank you! Thank your grandma for me!”

Khanum Rezaei set the qottab aside and went back to the counter by her oven. It was dusted with flour, which explained the mysterious white powder on her face.

Her sink was overflowing with whole romaine lettuce leaves, bathing under the running water. I wondered if it was for the bread. I didn’t know of any Iranian recipes that involved baking romaine lettuce into bread, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.

“Um.”

“It’s Sohrab’s favorite,” Khanum Rezaei said, nodding toward the sink. “He and his dad love it.”

Sohrab’s dad.

I felt so bad for him.

Also, I felt confused, because I didn’t know anyone whose favorite food was romaine lettuce.

Sohrab Rezaei contained multitudes.

“Can you take it outside for me?” Mrs. Rezaei scooped the leaves into a colander, banged it on the sink a few times, and handed it to me. “Put it on the table. I’ll go get Sohrab.”

The Rezaeis’ garden was very different from Babou’s. There were no fruit trees, no planters of jasmine, only long rows of hyacinths and a collection of huge pots filled with different herbs. The largest was right next to the kitchen—it was nearly two feet across and three feet high—and it was being assimilated by fresh mint.

Mint is the Borg of herbs. If you let it, it will take over each and every patch of ground it encounters, adding the soil’s biological and technological distinctiveness to its own.

There was a charcoal grill in the middle of the garden, the big round kind that looked like a miniature red Starbase. The only table was a Ping-Pong table, close to the door where I stood holding the dripping romaine leaves.

“Khanum Rezaei?”

There was no answer.

Was the Ping-Pong table the one I was supposed to put the romaine on?

Did Iranians say Ping-Pong, or did they say table tennis?

We didn’t cover the history of Ping-Pong/table tennis in Iran during our Net Sports Unit in physical education, which now seemed like a ridiculous oversight.

Khanum Rezaei popped up behind me. I almost dropped the lettuce in fright.

“I forgot this,” she said, squeezing behind me and flapping a giant white-and-blue tablecloth over the Ping-Pong table. It tented up over the little posts for the net. “You can spread the leaves out to dry some.”

“Okay.” I did what she asked, spreading the leaves out so they overlapped as little as possible. The water seeped into the tablecloth, turning it translucent.

“Darioush!”

Sohrab grabbed me around the shoulders from behind and swayed me back and forth.

My neck tingled.

“Oh. Hi.”

He was wearing plaid pajama pants so huge, he could have fit his entire body down one leg. They were cinched around his waist with a drawstring. I could tell because he had tucked his green polo shirt into his pants.

As soon as Sohrab saw the lettuce, he let me go and ran back inside, talking to his mom in Farsi at warp 9.

I had become invisible.

As I watched Sohrab through the doorway, he seemed younger somehow, swimming in his pajama pants with his shirt tucked in.

I knew without him saying it that he was missing his dad.

I felt terrible for him.

And I felt terrible feeling sorry for myself. Another Nowruz had come and gone for Sohrab without his father, and I was worried about feeling invisible.

But then Sohrab looked back at me as I watched him from the doorway, and his eyes squinted up again. His smile was a supernova.

“Darioush, you like sekanjabin?”

“What?”

“Sekanjabin. You’ve had it?”

“No,” I said. “What is it?

He pulled a short, wide-mouthed jar out of the fridge, said something quick to his mom, and came back outside. “It’s mint syrup. Here.” He unscrewed the jar, shook the water off a piece of lettuce, and dipped it in the sauce.

If his face was a supernova before, it became an accretion disc—one of the brightest objects in the universe—as soon as he tasted his lettuce.

I loved that Sohrab could be transported like that.

I took a tiny leaf and tried the sauce. It was sweet and minty, but there was something sour too.

“Vinegar?”

“Yes. Babou always adds a little.”

“Babou made this?”

“Yes. You never had it?”

“No. I never heard of it before.”

How did I not know my grandfather made sekanjabin?

How did I not know how delicious sekanjabin was?

“He is famous for it. My dad . . . He always grew extra mint, for Babou to use when he made it.” He gestured out to the garden. “You saw our mint?”

“Yeah.”

“Now it grows too much. Babou hasn’t made it for a while.”

“Oh.”

Sohrab dipped another leaf and then passed me the jar.

It was perfect.

“Thank you for coming over, Darioush.”

“It’s tradition to visit your friends the day after Nowruz.” I took another leaf to dip. “Right?”

Sohrab squeezed my shoulder as he inhaled another piece of lettuce. He nodded and chewed and swallowed and then squinted right at me.

“Right.”

After I helped Sohrab polish off every piece of lettuce on the table—two whole heads—he ran to get dressed, while I watched Khanum Rezaei make her bread. She pounded out the dough with her floured palms, then sprinkled a mixture of dried herbs and spices on top.

“Do you like this bread, Darioush-jan? Noon-e barbari?”

“Um. Yeah. Mom gets it from the Persian bakery sometimes.”

“You don’t make it at home?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll make some for you. You can put it in the freezer and take it home with you.”

“Maman!” Sohrab had reappeared in the doorway, dressed in real pants and a white polo shirt. He said something to his mom in Farsi, something about dinner, but it was too quick. “Come on, Darioush. Let’s go.”

“Um. Thank you,” I said to his mom. I followed Sohrab to the door and laced up my Vans.

There was something he wanted to show me.

Excerpted from Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram, (c) Penguin Young Readers.

Buy Darius the Great Is Not Okay: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop

Pre-order Darius the Great Deserves Better: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2UYTcoT via Blogger https://ift.tt/2yzWCah

[naomi-lafleur]

Funerals and Rebels

A/N: I said ukulele way too many times in this Merci @aliyatyson @mila-regan @niara-aldaine @tracie-beauchamp @sophiaravensfromillea and @haidenschreave for rping. Mentions of @baguette-le-chef and @felix-vladmska 

It’s been about two days since the accident. I’ve barely spoken a word to anyone other than the maids, and when I do, it’s always monotone. I wander around the palace aimlessly as I watch distressed maids, drained servants, and a (more than usual) bitter Baguette, scurry all over the place. I walk past a  portrait of the royal family and stop. I take my hands out of my dress pocket and set my eyes upon Queen Alize. My mind continuously repeats the same thing over and over and over again.

Dead. She’s lifeless right now because of you. You had the chance to save her, just like how you could’ve saved papa, but no. You’re useless, Naomi. You’re usele-

My thoughts are interrupted by Baguette shouting at the trainees in the kitchen. “Oh mon dieu, Tu me fais chier!” (SOrry if it isn’t accurate) It feels as if the palace is overcast with dark, dreary clouds.

Pull yourself together! You have to look cheerful, as always. It’ll make everyone feel better. Hide the depressed Naomi back inside where she belongs.

I take a deep breathe in, wipe away the tears, and turn around. I put on a fake smile and headed upstairs. Luckily, my maids were not in my room at the moment, so I grabbed my ukulele and hid myself in Viola’s old room.

The funeral was the following day. I hated this feeling. This whole fiasco just reminds me more of my dad. Can I just hide here all day?

The last time I attended a funeral was for my papa. I was only twelve years old at the time. I couldn’t even say the eulogy that I wrote for him, because I was sobbing so much that I couldn’t go on. That following year, my life became a wreck. Maman worked extra hours as a photographer, Etienne got more part time jobs, I couldn’t get any further education… Since I was too young to find any jobs other than making my art, Victoire, Lucien, and I scrounged the house for things to sell. When I turned fourteen, we got desperate. We were forced to sell everything that my dad owned. The only thing that I had left of him, was this ukulele that he handcrafted for my eleventh birthday.

This. This is all I have left of him.

I woke up the next morning to a maid’s shriek. She thought that I had been an intruder. You would’ve thought I killed her cat, considering how loud she screamed. After that little scare, I grumpily walked downstairs to my room, where my maids were worried sick. They all gathered around me and started talking all at once. I stared at the wall and sighed. The chatter died down.

“Zip it, you two! Miss Naomi, are you alright? Your eyes are as red as tomatoes… have you been crying?” I sniffled and gave them fake smile. “Of course I’m alright, why wouldn’t I be? A-And I probably just have allergies.” I said, dismissing her statement. They gave me a slight nod and began to dress me up for the funeral. I ended up wearing a simple black satin and velvet knee high dress, with a pearl necklace. I put on a pair of black heels and head downstairs.

I entered the Great Room, filled with thousands of guests, murmuring quietly. I take a seat beside Mila and Niara. My eyes wander around the room, and see Elaine crying on Haiden’s shoulder. Sadness fills my heart. How could something this tragic happen to such a wonderful family? I suddenly have trouble catching my breathe. I reach my arm out and grab Mila’s hand, which somewhat calms me down. As my heartbeat starts to go back to it’s normal rate, the eulogies begin. For the next 2 hours, I sit there in silence. As everyone cleared out of the room, I sat there unfazed, staring at the photo of Queen Alize. 

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t prevent this, this tragedy. I feel fortunate enough to have gotten to meet you and I apologize. May you rest in peace.

I felt much brighter the next morning. The cow balloons that I asked Eleanor to order, had finally arrived. I cheerfully walk down the hallways, in search of Haiden.

“Hey Haiden! After hours and hours of searching, I finally found it!“

He looks at me in confusion. “Found… what exactly?”

“Close your eyes first,” I said.

“Happy late birthday! Here are the cow balloons I was talking about,” I explain, referring to the joke I made on his birthday.

“Wow… that’s something. Thanks.”

“So how are you holding up after the incident?” I ask.

“Oh, uh… “ He says hesitantly. 

I realize my mistake and apologize. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m so stupid,” I mutter.

“No, you’re not.”

“I should’ve known better than bring up this topic.” I shake my head. “You’ve already got so much to deal with and I’m just making it worse.”

“No, no, it’s fine, really. You can’t really make it much worse.”

“Well if you ever need anyone to talk to, just know I’m always here. I’ve gone through a loss too.” I sigh..”.. not as bad as yours, but it always helps to have someone there.” 

We continue to talk, until I change the topic. 

“Hmm… are you hungry? I’m craving crepes, and coincidentally, they’re the only recipe I can make without burning the whole kitchen down. Do you happen to be allergic to crêpes?” 

“Um, I think I’ll be good. As long as there’s no fire.” Haiden said, jokingly. 

“Don’t worry. I’m pretty skilled at using a fire extinguisher if I say so myself” I laugh.

“Now I’m nervous.”

I roll my eyes. “If your pants catch on fire, I’ll make sure to blast you with it.”

“Yikes. Let’s do this, then.”

I grab Haiden’s arm and drag him towards the kitchen. “C'mon, let’s go.”

We begin to get the ingredients.. “Okay first we’ll need… *looks in cupboard* Some flour, eggs, salt, sugar, and… butter”

“I don’t trust myself enough for the eggs, so I’ll get the other stuff.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? We got,” I look at the carton. “9 other eggs to experiment with. Come on, just try to crack one.” I say, handing him an egg.

Haiden cracks it, get shells in it, and accidentally drops some out of the bowl. I laugh and start to pick the shells out of the mixture. I hand him a bigger bowl to try again. He does the same thing, but doesn’t spill any of it this time.

“Wow congrats you didn’t spill it this time!” I exclaim, continuing to crack the other two eggs.

“This should go down in history books.”

“Yes, this is a such a monumental moment.” I pretend to tear up.”You will be known as the egg king by the people “

I accidentally crush a shell with my hand and start bleeding. I grab a unicorn band-aid out of my pocket and stick it on my finger. “I know, I know, you don’t have to say it. It’s very fashionable. Okay, you can start measuring the sugar and salt”

“ I was just going to ask why you had one on hand, but I won’t.”

“ You never know when it’ll come handy… but normal band-aids don’t work, only unicorn ones do”

“An exact science, I’m sure.”

“Absolutely. I think next we need the flour…” I struggle to carry the large bag of flour onto the table, and it plops on the table which gets everywhere.

“Haha I think you got a little something on your nose.” I said, gesturing to his nose.

Haiden crinkles his nose and wipes it on my face. “Now you have some”

I grabbed more flour and threw it at him, which turned into a full on war.

“This was a new suit.” He contemplated for a second before grabbing the bag of flour and dumping it on my head.

Nuh uh. He did not just do that

I laugh and grasp onto as much flour as I can from the mountain on my head and charge at him.  

“Oh my I’m so sorry” I chuckle. “There was flour in my eyes… hmm I wonder how it got there.” At that moment, I realize that I was still on him, so I blush, roll off, and lay next to him.

“Can we just stay down here all day?” I ask.

“In flour?”

“Well we’re already covered in it. Whats a little more going to do?”

“We could set it on fire”

“I think its hot enough down here already. *pauses* oh god that sounded awful”

He laughs. “It definitely did”

“My bad. Sometimes I need to think these kinds of things through.” I roll onto my side to look at him “…You know you still have something on your nose, right?” I boop his nose.

“You know you still have something… everywhere”

I dust the flour off his cheek and lingered there momentarily. “Yeah, I wonder whose fault that is?”

“Yours”

“I believe that’s incorrect. If I recall you dumped the flour bag” 

“Yes, but you dumped it on me which made it substantially worse.”

“Sure buddy. If that’s what you want to believe.”

Why did you call him buddy? Smh Naomi, smh

“That shall be the truth.”

“Is that how the truth works? I always thought differently.”

“Possibly.”

“So while we’re down here, why don’t you tell me a secret?”

“How forward. Uh, a secret… I like my milk first, then my cereal.”

You monster

I pretend to gasp. “That’s not a secret, that’s a sin,” I say matter of factly.

“I keep my sins secret.“

“What other kinds of sins are you talking about? Do you also straight up bite kit kats without breaking them apart?“

“Obviously”

“Haiden Schreave, what kind of man are you? Well, besides one that I like..”

Bleh. You did not just say that, Naomi. Give me a minute while I go puke.

“A threat society, I’m sure”

“ ”*laughs* I doubt that. You’re about as threating as a kitten. Wait aren’t you scared of cats?”

“Um, terrified, yes,” He states.

“You sure are a character, I’ll give you that.”  

“You are too, Flour Girl.”

“Thanks, but it’s actually pronounced Lafleur.” I wink.

“Oh, my mistake. Laflour.”

HAHAHAHA DEAD

“So tell me a better secret, Haiden *pauses* What are your feelings for me?”

“What are yours for me?”

“Nonexistent until you tell me yours”

“Ouch.”

“Well, Haiden, I do like you. A lot actually… I just want to know if you return those feelings.” My face turns a bright shade of red.

“Of course I like you, but…”

Here comes the bad news…

I bite my lip. “…but what?”

“You seem like you just see me as a friend, you know?”

Did he just use reverse psychology to friend zone me? Good luck with your cow on the farm, Naomi. You’ll need it.

My lip starts to quiver and I mumble. “C'est dommage… Well, I’m sorry you feel that way”

“Naomi…”

Hide depressed Naomi. Hide her away.

I smile sadly. “It’s LaFlour, remember?”

“Laflour, I apologize. Are you upset with me?”

I stand up, brushed myself off, and wiped a tear away quickly. “ It’s… fine, let’s just finish these crepes. If one thing is going to work let it be these crepes.” I smiled.

“Naomi… LaFlour. You are such a wonderful person. You’re so positive and accepting. Don’t let a stupid boy make you cry.”

Too late

“Just to set the record straight, I don’t think of you as just a friend.” I offer him my hand to pull him up.

He accepts my gesture. “I know. But you still shouldn’t cry over me. Wasted tears. Cry over sad movies and dogs and really, really good food. Just… not over boys or me or anyone because we’re all trash bags.”

You’re not a trash bag, Haiden.

We discuss more about cows and trash, and then finish up the crepes. My heart shattered that night. 

This shouldn’t be a surprise. We all knew it was going to happen.

A few days after that, Niara and I were wandering around the palace, when we heard some loud whispers. We turned the corner and, much to our surprise, see Aliya, Sophia, and Tracie.

Niara runs towards them. “What’s going on?’

“Rebel Attack!” Tracie screams.

“I am keeping my promise! No one will get hurt!” Sophia exclaims.

I stare at them in confusion and repeat Niara’s question. “Wait, what is happening?”

Aliya finally acknowledges us and waves awkwardly. “Oh no. Hi Naomi, hi Niara.”

Mila lets out a frustrated sigh and mutters to herself.

“Look, it’s kind of hard to explain, but there’s going to be running a lot of rebels through these halls any moment, and we need you to go the bunkers.” Aliya explains.

Tracie and Sophia continue to fight about attacking.

In a midst of the argument, I interrupt. “Uhhh, so where do we go?”

“Yes bunkers. Fast!” Sophia says.

I cannot make out a word they are saying with everyone talking all at once until Niara grabs my arm. “You’re dying with me, almond.”

Nuh uh. I am not willing to die over here. I already lost my chance with Haiden, so I just want to live a quiet, and peaceful life on a farm with a cow.

“Why you gotta make me die too?” I whine. “That is just rude.”

“There’s a rebel attack Niara,” Tracie says.

Sophia gets frustrated and drags Mila and I away.

Tracie pipes in. “I’m not part of it, by the way.”

“We’re not really trying to hurt anyone, we are getting supplies for the lower caste” Aliya tries to explain.

“Well… uh, I do not want to die,” I say, trying to hurry this along.

I look every which way, trying to make out a sentence in their conversation.

“Haiden is most likely already in the bunker”

“Listen to Niara!”

“Yes Aliya planned it, so it must be right”

“One question,” I ask calmly.

“Yes?” Sophia says.

“WHY ARE YOU GUYS ATTACKING THE PALACE!” I yell.

“GOOD QUESTION” Tracie responds.

The rest seem to ignore me.

“But indeed, the Prince is found more important than the Selected, so that’s why we wanted to check to get you to the bunkers in time.” Aliya says.

“REBELS ARE STUPID”

“Hey don’t call me stupid”

“Finally some common sense”

“How can I know to trust you?”

“Don’t pin it all on me, there’s like a whole team and all”

“Because we spend months together in this Palace? And we are here, and no guards yet”

I put my hands on my forehead. Oh mon Dieu. Is this really the time to be arguing? I grab Niara and Mila.

“LET’S JUST GO GUYS!” I exclaim.

“Naomi! Let go!” Niara screams.

“Thanks Nana. Here we go,” says Tracie.

“DO YOU WANT TO DIE?” I ask.

After much more bickering, we finally agree to go to a safe room.

Suddenly, I get a gut feeling. The realization hits me like a brick.

M-my ukulele

I sprint up the stairs without any warning or hesitation. Niara tries to grab my hand but it fortunately slips out of her grasp. “ALMOND, COME HERE!” She shouts.

If something happens to this ukulele, I will die with it. I will sacrifice my life for this instrument if it’s the last thing I do. I-I can’t lose this.

More and more tears roll down my eyes as I wipe them away. Gasping for air, I finally stumble into my room. I see a Northern Rebel rummaging through all my personal items. They wouldn’t touch my stuff, my ass. My eyes focus on the ground and see the picture of family ripped in half. I see his grimy hands holding my blue ukulele and I lose it.

The whole situation was a blur. I was so focused on getting my stuff back, that I couldn’t remember what happened. All I knew for sure, was that I hook kicked him, which then resulted in him going unconscious. I grabbed all my stuff and headed towards the safe room nearby. As I ran, I heard 2 men, presumably rebels, on my tail. I tried to escape them by turning a corner, but I got shot in the shoulder. I fell to the floor faced down, accepting death.

This is how I’ll die today

Gasping for more air, I heard someone running towards me. I had assumed that it was a rebel, who was going finish me off, but I heard a grunt and a man whispering to himself. I felt the man carry me into the safe room.

“C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. You’re going to be okay, alright? Someone will come save you. Someone wi-”

I tried keeping my eyes opened to see if I knew him, but his voice started to fade off. I heard the door slam, and then I was knocked out.

I woke up in a pitched black room with an aching pain in my left shoulder. In that moment, I remembered everything that happened. With my good arm, I reached out to turn on the lights. The light bulb flickered and lit up the whole room. I looked around, in search of a medical kit.

Beans, water, spare light bulbs, a clock…

I stared at the clock in confusion. I’d been asleep for 2 hours? Eventually I bandaged myself up the best that I could. I covered my bleeding finger with a unicorn band-aid that I had in my pocket and sighed. I sat there, blaming myself for everything.

You saw Cressida… You thought it was your imagination… If you just told someone, the queen wouldn’t be dead! If you hadn’t told papa to go into town and get you more paint… he wouldn’t have died. Everything… is always your fault. Everyone will leave you one day, just like how grandma did… and Viola… and how Haiden will.

I sat in the corner of the safe room in silence. I couldn’t move. The pain from my shoulder was still killing me even more, because I hadn’t been able to get the bullet out alone.

It’s been well over three hours already. Why isn’t anyone saving me?

I start to lose consciousness again.

Just… just wait a few more minutes, Naomi. They… they will come for you. Stay awake. You have to stay awake. You may not wake up this time.

Just as I lose hope and my eyes begin to droop, I hear a loud creaking sound. The bright light shines into the dim room, and I see a man in front of my face. 

“Are you alright?”

I recognize him from somewhere. “I-I’m fi- “ My head drops. ”Oh I’m a-alright”

“You’re clearly not.” He carefully puts me in his arms and carries me to the hospital wing. Apparently  not gentle enough, because he accidentally brushes my injured shoulder and I yelp in pain.

His eyes widen and then I remember. It’s Felix Vladmska. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s alright. C-can you please get my ukulele and bring me t-to um… to the hospital wing?  T-Thank you for sav-saving me.”

My droopy eyes shut and the last thing I remember, is Lavender running towards me.

[instantdeerlover]

Author Adib Khorram Is Always Looking for His Next Meal added to Google Docs

Author Adib Khorram Is Always Looking for His Next Meal

Khorram talks to Eater about writing food scenes, the concept of the “cultural iceberg,” and tea — and reads an excerpt from his YA novel, Darius the Great Is Not Okay

In Adib Khorram’s novel Darius the Great Is Not Okay, protagonist Darius Kellner, a self-described “Fractional Persian,” visits Iran with his mother, father, and younger sister. There, he comes to terms with his identity and his place in his family, he strikes a new friendship with Sohrab, and he eats a whole lot of food. Darius also loves tea — it’s a ritual that calms him, and one he can share with his dad, with whom he doesn’t necessarily see eye to eye.

Like Darius, Khorram loves food and tea too, which is why it plays such a large role in his first novel, as well as the sequel, Darius the Great Deserves Better, which comes out on August 25 and is currently available for pre-order. In the new book, there’s plenty of food scenes — “food plays a big role because as always, I was hungry when I was writing,” says Khorram, and he teases that, yes, there’s plenty of Iranian food, tea, and even breakfast for dinner. (Khorram also has a children’s book, Seven Special Somethings, coming out next spring, all about Nowruz.)

During Eater Book Club, Khorram shared that he likes Harney & Sons and Steven Smith Teamaker as tea brands, and for Iranian tea, he suggests a mix of Assam and Earl Grey, or looking for Iranian tea blends. He recommends people who want to cook Persian food for the first time start with the cookbook New Food of Life by Najmieh Batmanglij. His favorite local bookstores are Rainy Day Books in Fairway, Kansas, and the Raven Bookstore in Lawrence, Kansas.

Below, find an excerpt from Darius the Great Is Not Okay, which Khorram read live for Eater Book Club on Instagram Live with host Sonia Chopra on Thursday, April 2, as part of the Eater @ Home virtual event series.

I gave the horseshoe knocker three quick raps. Mahvash Rezaei answered. There was a smear of white powder across her forehead, and some had gotten into her eyebrows, too, but she smiled when she saw me—that same squinting smile she had passed down to her son.

“Alláh-u-Abhá, Darioush!”

“Um.”

I always felt weird, if someone said “Alláh-u-Abhá” to me, because I wasn’t sure if I should say it back—if I was even allowed to—since I wasn’t Bahá’í and I didn’t believe in God.

The Picard didn’t count.

“Come in!”

I pulled my Vans off and set them in the corner next to Sohrab’s slender shoes.

There was a wooden partition separating the entryway from the rest of the house, with shelves covered in pictures and candles and phone chargers. The rugs were white and green with gold accents, and they didn’t have little tassels on them like Mamou’s. The house felt cozy, like a Hobbit-hole.

The air was heavy with the scent of baking bread. Real, homemade bread, not the mass-produced Subway kind.

“Have you eaten? You want anything?”

“I’m okay. I had breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” She steered me toward the kitchen. “It’s no trouble.”

“I’m sure. I thought I should come visit, since it’s the day after Nowruz.”

I felt very Persian.

“You are so sweet.”

Darius Kellner. Sweet.

I liked that Sohrab’s mom thought that about me.

I really did.

“You are sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m okay. I had qottab before I came.”

“Your grandma makes the best qottab.”

Technically, I had not tasted all the possibilities, but I agreed with Mahvash Rezaei in principle.

“She sent some with me,” I said, holding out the plastic container I’d brought.

Mahvash Rezaei’s eyes bugged out, and I was reminded of a Klingon warrior. Her personality was too big and mercurial to be contained in a frail human body.

“Thank you! Thank your grandma for me!”

Khanum Rezaei set the qottab aside and went back to the counter by her oven. It was dusted with flour, which explained the mysterious white powder on her face.

Her sink was overflowing with whole romaine lettuce leaves, bathing under the running water. I wondered if it was for the bread. I didn’t know of any Iranian recipes that involved baking romaine lettuce into bread, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.

“Um.”

“It’s Sohrab’s favorite,” Khanum Rezaei said, nodding toward the sink. “He and his dad love it.”

Sohrab’s dad.

I felt so bad for him.

Also, I felt confused, because I didn’t know anyone whose favorite food was romaine lettuce.

Sohrab Rezaei contained multitudes.

“Can you take it outside for me?” Mrs. Rezaei scooped the leaves into a colander, banged it on the sink a few times, and handed it to me. “Put it on the table. I’ll go get Sohrab.”

The Rezaeis’ garden was very different from Babou’s. There were no fruit trees, no planters of jasmine, only long rows of hyacinths and a collection of huge pots filled with different herbs. The largest was right next to the kitchen—it was nearly two feet across and three feet high—and it was being assimilated by fresh mint.

Mint is the Borg of herbs. If you let it, it will take over each and every patch of ground it encounters, adding the soil’s biological and technological distinctiveness to its own.

There was a charcoal grill in the middle of the garden, the big round kind that looked like a miniature red Starbase. The only table was a Ping-Pong table, close to the door where I stood holding the dripping romaine leaves.

“Khanum Rezaei?”

There was no answer.

Was the Ping-Pong table the one I was supposed to put the romaine on?

Did Iranians say Ping-Pong, or did they say table tennis?

We didn’t cover the history of Ping-Pong/table tennis in Iran during our Net Sports Unit in physical education, which now seemed like a ridiculous oversight.

Khanum Rezaei popped up behind me. I almost dropped the lettuce in fright.

“I forgot this,” she said, squeezing behind me and flapping a giant white-and-blue tablecloth over the Ping-Pong table. It tented up over the little posts for the net. “You can spread the leaves out to dry some.”

“Okay.” I did what she asked, spreading the leaves out so they overlapped as little as possible. The water seeped into the tablecloth, turning it translucent.

“Darioush!”

Sohrab grabbed me around the shoulders from behind and swayed me back and forth.

My neck tingled.

“Oh. Hi.”

He was wearing plaid pajama pants so huge, he could have fit his entire body down one leg. They were cinched around his waist with a drawstring. I could tell because he had tucked his green polo shirt into his pants.

As soon as Sohrab saw the lettuce, he let me go and ran back inside, talking to his mom in Farsi at warp 9.

I had become invisible.

As I watched Sohrab through the doorway, he seemed younger somehow, swimming in his pajama pants with his shirt tucked in.

I knew without him saying it that he was missing his dad.

I felt terrible for him.

And I felt terrible feeling sorry for myself. Another Nowruz had come and gone for Sohrab without his father, and I was worried about feeling invisible.

But then Sohrab looked back at me as I watched him from the doorway, and his eyes squinted up again. His smile was a supernova.

“Darioush, you like sekanjabin?”

“What?”

“Sekanjabin. You’ve had it?”

“No,” I said. “What is it?

He pulled a short, wide-mouthed jar out of the fridge, said something quick to his mom, and came back outside. “It’s mint syrup. Here.” He unscrewed the jar, shook the water off a piece of lettuce, and dipped it in the sauce.

If his face was a supernova before, it became an accretion disc—one of the brightest objects in the universe—as soon as he tasted his lettuce.

I loved that Sohrab could be transported like that.

I took a tiny leaf and tried the sauce. It was sweet and minty, but there was something sour too.

“Vinegar?”

“Yes. Babou always adds a little.”

“Babou made this?”

“Yes. You never had it?”

“No. I never heard of it before.”

How did I not know my grandfather made sekanjabin?

How did I not know how delicious sekanjabin was?

“He is famous for it. My dad . . . He always grew extra mint, for Babou to use when he made it.” He gestured out to the garden. “You saw our mint?”

“Yeah.”

“Now it grows too much. Babou hasn’t made it for a while.”

“Oh.”

Sohrab dipped another leaf and then passed me the jar.

It was perfect.

“Thank you for coming over, Darioush.”

“It’s tradition to visit your friends the day after Nowruz.” I took another leaf to dip. “Right?”

Sohrab squeezed my shoulder as he inhaled another piece of lettuce. He nodded and chewed and swallowed and then squinted right at me.

“Right.”

After I helped Sohrab polish off every piece of lettuce on the table—two whole heads—he ran to get dressed, while I watched Khanum Rezaei make her bread. She pounded out the dough with her floured palms, then sprinkled a mixture of dried herbs and spices on top.

“Do you like this bread, Darioush-jan? Noon-e barbari?”

“Um. Yeah. Mom gets it from the Persian bakery sometimes.”

“You don’t make it at home?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll make some for you. You can put it in the freezer and take it home with you.”

“Maman!” Sohrab had reappeared in the doorway, dressed in real pants and a white polo shirt. He said something to his mom in Farsi, something about dinner, but it was too quick. “Come on, Darioush. Let’s go.”

“Um. Thank you,” I said to his mom. I followed Sohrab to the door and laced up my Vans.

There was something he wanted to show me.

Excerpted from Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram, (c) Penguin Young Readers.

Buy Darius the Great Is Not Okay: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop

Pre-order Darius the Great Deserves Better: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop

via Eater - All https://www.eater.com/2020/4/3/21201854/adib-khorram-darius-the-great-book-club

Created April 3, 2020 at 11:06PM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

[easyfoodnetwork]

Khorram talks to Eater about writing food scenes, the concept of the “cultural iceberg,” and tea — and reads an excerpt from his YA novel, Darius the Great Is Not Okay In Adib Khorram’s novel Darius the Great Is Not Okay, protagonist Darius Kellner, a self-described “Fractional Persian,” visits Iran with his mother, father, and younger sister. There, he comes to terms with his identity and his place in his family, he strikes a new friendship with Sohrab, and he eats a whole lot of food. Darius also loves tea — it’s a ritual that calms him, and one he can share with his dad, with whom he doesn’t necessarily see eye to eye. Like Darius, Khorram loves food and tea too, which is why it plays such a large role in his first novel, as well as the sequel, Darius the Great Deserves Better, which comes out on August 25 and is currently available for pre-order. In the new book, there’s plenty of food scenes — “food plays a big role because as always, I was hungry when I was writing,” says Khorram, and he teases that, yes, there’s plenty of Iranian food, tea, and even breakfast for dinner. (Khorram also has a children’s book, Seven Special Somethings, coming out next spring, all about Nowruz.) During Eater Book Club, Khorram shared that he likes Harney & Sons and Steven Smith Teamaker as tea brands, and for Iranian tea, he suggests a mix of Assam and Earl Grey, or looking for Iranian tea blends. He recommends people who want to cook Persian food for the first time start with the cookbook New Food of Life by Najmieh Batmanglij. His favorite local bookstores are Rainy Day Books in Fairway, Kansas, and the Raven Bookstore in Lawrence, Kansas. Below, find an excerpt from Darius the Great Is Not Okay, which Khorram read live for Eater Book Club on Instagram Live with host Sonia Chopra on Thursday, April 2, as part of the Eater @ Home virtual event series. I gave the horseshoe knocker three quick raps. Mahvash Rezaei answered. There was a smear of white powder across her forehead, and some had gotten into her eyebrows, too, but she smiled when she saw me—that same squinting smile she had passed down to her son. “Alláh-u-Abhá, Darioush!” “Um.” I always felt weird, if someone said “Alláh-u-Abhá” to me, because I wasn’t sure if I should say it back—if I was even allowed to—since I wasn’t Bahá’í and I didn’t believe in God. The Picard didn’t count. “Come in!” I pulled my Vans off and set them in the corner next to Sohrab’s slender shoes. There was a wooden partition separating the entryway from the rest of the house, with shelves covered in pictures and candles and phone chargers. The rugs were white and green with gold accents, and they didn’t have little tassels on them like Mamou’s. The house felt cozy, like a Hobbit-hole. The air was heavy with the scent of baking bread. Real, homemade bread, not the mass-produced Subway kind. “Have you eaten? You want anything?” “I’m okay. I had breakfast.” “Are you sure?” She steered me toward the kitchen. “It’s no trouble.” “I’m sure. I thought I should come visit, since it’s the day after Nowruz.” I felt very Persian. “You are so sweet.” Darius Kellner. Sweet. I liked that Sohrab’s mom thought that about me. I really did. “You are sure you don’t want anything?” “I’m okay. I had qottab before I came.” “Your grandma makes the best qottab.” Technically, I had not tasted all the possibilities, but I agreed with Mahvash Rezaei in principle. “She sent some with me,” I said, holding out the plastic container I’d brought. Mahvash Rezaei’s eyes bugged out, and I was reminded of a Klingon warrior. Her personality was too big and mercurial to be contained in a frail human body. “Thank you! Thank your grandma for me!” Khanum Rezaei set the qottab aside and went back to the counter by her oven. It was dusted with flour, which explained the mysterious white powder on her face. Her sink was overflowing with whole romaine lettuce leaves, bathing under the running water. I wondered if it was for the bread. I didn’t know of any Iranian recipes that involved baking romaine lettuce into bread, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. “Um.” “It’s Sohrab’s favorite,” Khanum Rezaei said, nodding toward the sink. “He and his dad love it.” Sohrab’s dad. I felt so bad for him. Also, I felt confused, because I didn’t know anyone whose favorite food was romaine lettuce. Sohrab Rezaei contained multitudes. “Can you take it outside for me?” Mrs. Rezaei scooped the leaves into a colander, banged it on the sink a few times, and handed it to me. “Put it on the table. I’ll go get Sohrab.” The Rezaeis’ garden was very different from Babou’s. There were no fruit trees, no planters of jasmine, only long rows of hyacinths and a collection of huge pots filled with different herbs. The largest was right next to the kitchen—it was nearly two feet across and three feet high—and it was being assimilated by fresh mint. Mint is the Borg of herbs. If you let it, it will take over each and every patch of ground it encounters, adding the soil’s biological and technological distinctiveness to its own. There was a charcoal grill in the middle of the garden, the big round kind that looked like a miniature red Starbase. The only table was a Ping-Pong table, close to the door where I stood holding the dripping romaine leaves. “Khanum Rezaei?” There was no answer. Was the Ping-Pong table the one I was supposed to put the romaine on? Did Iranians say Ping-Pong, or did they say table tennis? We didn’t cover the history of Ping-Pong/table tennis in Iran during our Net Sports Unit in physical education, which now seemed like a ridiculous oversight. Khanum Rezaei popped up behind me. I almost dropped the lettuce in fright. “I forgot this,” she said, squeezing behind me and flapping a giant white-and-blue tablecloth over the Ping-Pong table. It tented up over the little posts for the net. “You can spread the leaves out to dry some.” “Okay.” I did what she asked, spreading the leaves out so they overlapped as little as possible. The water seeped into the tablecloth, turning it translucent. “Darioush!” Sohrab grabbed me around the shoulders from behind and swayed me back and forth. My neck tingled. “Oh. Hi.” He was wearing plaid pajama pants so huge, he could have fit his entire body down one leg. They were cinched around his waist with a drawstring. I could tell because he had tucked his green polo shirt into his pants. As soon as Sohrab saw the lettuce, he let me go and ran back inside, talking to his mom in Farsi at warp 9. I had become invisible. As I watched Sohrab through the doorway, he seemed younger somehow, swimming in his pajama pants with his shirt tucked in. I knew without him saying it that he was missing his dad. I felt terrible for him. And I felt terrible feeling sorry for myself. Another Nowruz had come and gone for Sohrab without his father, and I was worried about feeling invisible. But then Sohrab looked back at me as I watched him from the doorway, and his eyes squinted up again. His smile was a supernova. “Darioush, you like sekanjabin?” “What?” “Sekanjabin. You’ve had it?” “No,” I said. “What is it? He pulled a short, wide-mouthed jar out of the fridge, said something quick to his mom, and came back outside. “It’s mint syrup. Here.” He unscrewed the jar, shook the water off a piece of lettuce, and dipped it in the sauce. If his face was a supernova before, it became an accretion disc—one of the brightest objects in the universe—as soon as he tasted his lettuce. I loved that Sohrab could be transported like that. I took a tiny leaf and tried the sauce. It was sweet and minty, but there was something sour too. “Vinegar?” “Yes. Babou always adds a little.” “Babou made this?” “Yes. You never had it?” “No. I never heard of it before.” How did I not know my grandfather made sekanjabin? How did I not know how delicious sekanjabin was? “He is famous for it. My dad . . . He always grew extra mint, for Babou to use when he made it.” He gestured out to the garden. “You saw our mint?” “Yeah.” “Now it grows too much. Babou hasn’t made it for a while.” “Oh.” Sohrab dipped another leaf and then passed me the jar. It was perfect. “Thank you for coming over, Darioush.” “It’s tradition to visit your friends the day after Nowruz.” I took another leaf to dip. “Right?” Sohrab squeezed my shoulder as he inhaled another piece of lettuce. He nodded and chewed and swallowed and then squinted right at me. “Right.” After I helped Sohrab polish off every piece of lettuce on the table—two whole heads—he ran to get dressed, while I watched Khanum Rezaei make her bread. She pounded out the dough with her floured palms, then sprinkled a mixture of dried herbs and spices on top. “Do you like this bread, Darioush-jan? Noon-e barbari?” “Um. Yeah. Mom gets it from the Persian bakery sometimes.” “You don’t make it at home?” “Not really.” “I’ll make some for you. You can put it in the freezer and take it home with you.” “Maman!” Sohrab had reappeared in the doorway, dressed in real pants and a white polo shirt. He said something to his mom in Farsi, something about dinner, but it was too quick. “Come on, Darioush. Let’s go.” “Um. Thank you,” I said to his mom. I followed Sohrab to the door and laced up my Vans. There was something he wanted to show me. Excerpted from Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram, (c) Penguin Young Readers. Buy Darius the Great Is Not Okay: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop Pre-order Darius the Great Deserves Better: Penguin Random House | Amazon | Bookshop from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2UYTcoT

http://easyfoodnetwork.blogspot.com/2020/04/author-adib-khorram-is-always-looking.html