Aiko in Canon (the Revenge of Uzushio remix) (2015-11-25)

A/N1: No doubt this will be jossed when @electraposts puts up Part 13 of the Aiko in Canon tumblr-only spin-off of her Deja Vu and Dreams series. But I couldn’t help myself…

Anyway, this is heavily based off the recent Part 12, so read that first.

~

Over thirty years ago, Kirigakure utterly destroyed Uzushiogakure.

It was a pre-emptive strike to ensure Kiri’s survival. Uzushio was a small country and yet, in comparison to Mizu, had greater prosperity, longevity, and skills. An entire clan of fuinjutsu experts was a dangerous thing, a weapon only sheathed at the whims of people known for being led by their emotions.

It was nothing personal, it had to be done.

There are very few shinobi in Mizu who actually remember the Fall of Uzushio, fewer still who actually took part–the lifespan of a Kiri-nin is short and, unlike Konoha, fifty years is a near impossible achievement. And yet, when an Uzumaki rains destruction on their village, the forces of Kiri are not surprised. Actually, they’re rather… blasé about the whole two bijuu unleashed upon the village thing.

They know a lot about holding grudges, more so about enacting revenge–the types of missions given to Kiri are far more bloodthirsty than their continental counterparts. Uzumaki is only doing what an avenger is expected to do, and quite thoroughly at that. Really, the only question is why it took her so long.

Utakata knew that no one could really be that dumb. But it still stings that he fell for it anyway.

For all that he’s a missing-nin of Kiri, he was still once a Kiri-nin. He learned of their history as much as any other shinobi. He had already figured out that Aiko was an Uzumaki who time-travelled, dropped decades after the complete slaughter of her people, he has experienced her cunning schemes first-hand, and she had allowed him to see her vulnerability over her lost comrades.

He should have known that something like this was brewing.

But instead he was blinded–by his own jealousy, perhaps, or his dislike of the Yondaime Mizukage, or his desperation not to be left alone again–and went along with what he thought was her hare-brained plot to instigate a regime change by bringing an assassin directly to the center of Kirigakure.

One rogue shinobi and two missing-nin, one of them a jinchuuriki, directly confronting the Mizukage who himself is a jinchuuriki? Of course there would be mass chaos and destruction.

Now Aiko has the Sanbi, she’s clearly asserted her dominance over Kiri’s strongest shinobi even without the bijuu’s aid–everything about this absolute clusterfuck of a venture seems to have worked out pretty well for her.

And perhaps that was her plan from the start.

No one could really be that dumb, Utakata thinks, but even after all Aiko has put him through, he will still stand by her.

The Godaime Mizukage is not a Kiri-nin, something which is explicitly stated from the very beginning. She is an Uzumaki, a rogue shinobi with no heritage but that of a fallen land.

She stands upright before the bodies of the dead, no doubt vindicated with having avenged her clan. And yet, she is not without mercy. Impossibly, miraculously, she revives the corpses; they are restored as if death had never touched them.

It’s a stroke of brilliance, Mei thinks, anger controlled but simmering. History is written by the winners and there is only one obvious winner in this situation. It doesn’t matter if Uzumaki is the reason why they died in the first place, there is no faster way to earn someone’s loyalty than literally being their source of life.

~

A/N2: I’ve always kind of wondered about Uzushiogakure (and their fall) and figure that as their closest neighbors/the likely cause of their destruction, Kirigakure would have a very strange perspective on a time-traveling Uzumaki becoming their leader via destroying a large majority of their village.

Also, electraposts, if you would like me to make changes or take this down, I totally understand and would be willing to do so. Just let me know.

Word Prompts (P44): Princess

You are Rapunzel with wings, Sleeping Beauty in armor, Snow White with sword and shield. You are a princess and a warrior.

You are the Belle that tamed the Beast and Red who survived the Wolf. You are Cinderella without a curfew and the Little Mermaid without compromise. You are a lady; you are a miracle.

You do not accept defeat.

“Give him back,” you demand through gritted teeth, tasting the iron and simmering rage of your own blood. You clench your fists. There is no question on whether or not you will get Chat back, only a matter of how many punches it’ll take for that to happen.

For Tikki’s sake, you hope none. But you feel like you could take on an army of akuma even without her magic. It’s not desperation but rather, the confidence that the world will meet your expectations. Or you will forcibly twist it to do so–and with your bare hands at that.

“He doesn’t want to go back,” Hawk Moth says, so still and pristine–frozen and unmarred like prey about to be horrendously slaughtered, “Do you Chat Blanc?”

Between you stands Chat, uniform the same except for the glaringly obvious color change, expression solemn and placid and nothing at all like what you know of him.

“You see, Ladybug? He doesn’t want to go anywhere,” and then Hawk Moth’s face shifts, lip curling and eyes narrowing, “Not so fond of being the outnumbered Miraculous holder, are you?”

You hate like you’ve never done before.

“His name is Chat Noir,” you respond, and you can almost hear Tikki saying it with you, can almost feel her own anger on behalf of her fellow kwami, “And outnumbered doesn’t mean outmatched.”

You are a ladybug–luck and hope incarnate–you are a girl in love, you are a worried friend, you are a heroine on the edge of danger.

You will only accept success.

~

A/N: … I have so many feeling for this show I have yet to watch I am extremely confused and yet absolutely thrilled.

Got this word prompt and just knew it had to go for Miraculous Ladybug, but I don’t know if I executed what I had in my head as well as I hoped…

edit: now on ao3 as part of the series Spots and Bells (and Unnamed Tales) here!

Untitled drabble (2015-11-23)

“I have to warn you,” he says, shrugging of his jacket with a casual roll of his shoulders. All around our impromptu arena, our classmates stand, eagerly watching and cheering him on, “If we fight, I will lose. And I will cry.” With a grin more suited to the big screen than a school in the middle of nowhere, he holds up his fists in an inefficient pose.

What? I must have misheard, “What?” I ask, just to clarify, removing my own jacket in a far less elegant manner.

“I don’t really know how to fight,” he explains, much to my increasing bewilderment, “And I’m very sensitive,” he adds, unnecessarily, “This morning, I cried because I stubbed my toe!”

I sputter, I can feel my eyebrows furrow in a combination of annoyance and confusion. “Then why did you challenge me to a fight?” I shout, “And what the hell are all these people doing here?”

“I don’t know about them,” he says demurely–which, what the fuck, he always has a horde of admirers following after him, doing his bidding–“But I just thought it would be fun! Let’s be friends!” He says, another one of those megawatt grins aimed my way.

I pull back, as if I can somehow physically dodge his friendly overtures, and examine the situation. Short-term enjoyment I get from beating him up versus the long-term suffering of becoming friends with an, apparently, masochistic school idol and having all of his fans hate me.

Yeah, I think not. Ignoring everyone, I quickly retrieve my jacket and bag before heading home–like I was supposed to before getting accosted by this weirdo.

No doubt the rumor mill will turn this into me being too scared to fight him, but whatever. I’ve got better things to do with my time.

A/N: Random first person present tense thing of weirdness? I don’t even know. Since Thanksgiving is coming up, I may have cross-posts or missed posts for a few days… I’ll see how my schedule goes :/

B*tch Please drabble (2015-11-22)

The first few weeks of my new life was somehow both boring and frightening. I couldn’t see anything, could barely hear anything–all I could do was feel the way others effortlessly moved me about.

For some reason, I was small and so incompetent, that others needed to help me with absolutely everything–moving, eating, cleaning myself–it was pretty embarrassing.

My hearing and sense of smell kicked in soon enough, oddly before my sight did, which made my situation less frightening and boring. But also more bewildering.

My name is Aomi, I used to be a girl who enjoyed manga. Now? I’m the littermate of Akamaru and one of Inuzuka Kiba’s ninken.

I’m a fucking dog.

Communication is different when you’re a canine. Yes, there are some vocalizations–barking and whining and, occasionally, if Kuromaru-alpha doesn’t catch us fast enough, howling about the injustice of having to wait for dinner–but a lot of it is body language. A wagging tail is obvious, even non-Inuzuka humans know what that means, but even the tilt of a head or the splay of our legs can mean different things.

That being said, I didn’t fully think through just how well Inuzuka really understand their ninken.

“Danzo-asshole,” I growled, head tucked down from my customary spot in Kiba-brother’s hood–while Akamaru-brother preferred to rest on top of our human partner’s head, I liked the warmth and relative privacy of the hood; like a hammock just for me. “God, that bastard just needs to fuck a cactus and die.”

Akamaru-brother, being a relatively normal ninken puppy, whined and flicked his ears in confusion. Kiba-brother, being a fairly uncouth seven year old boy, snickered at my statement even if he didn’t fully understand everything.

Tsume-alpha, on the other hand?

I yelped, kicking my paws out futilely as a comparatively large hand plucked me from my warm spot by my scruff and shook me in scolding.

“Just where did you learn that kind of language, Aomi?” She asked, teeth bared in a sadistically pleased smile, “Kiba! You’re not being a bad influence on your ninken are you?”

While my human partner and littermate protested such a thing, I whined, turning my head this way and that in conflicting efforts to escape and show submission. Kuromaru-alpha, from his place on the floor, looked up at me distinctly unimpressed.

Eventually, I ceded defeat, tail tucked between my legs and beseeching puppy eyes on full blast.

“Nice try, pup,” Tsume-alpha laughed, before tossing me through the air. Before I could land on my feet, Kuromaru-alpha snapped me up, fangs gentle on my puppy skin. I’d witnessed him bite through a kunai once, and knew what kind of power he could wield–but he was my alpha, and for all that Akamaru-brother and I were annoying and mischievous, he would never seriously hurt us.

Tsume-alpha walked toward her study–a disorganized mess of scrolls and furniture that somehow expertly managed the Inuzuka Clan, Konoha’s Sensory Squad, and the Veterinary Department of the hospital–and we trailed behind her obediently.

Her tattoos and wild features looked out of place sitting at a desk, and yet she looked all the more dangerous for it, “Now then, Aomi, how do you even know councilor Shimura Danzo and just why do you think he needs to die a painful and shameful death?”

The best and worst thing to happen to me in this second life–barring the whole having been reborn at all thing–was definitely Juujin Bunshin.

For Akamaru-brother, when he and Kiba-brother used the technique, they became mirror images of each other. But when I used it, I turned into myself. Or, rather, the myself I used to be before I became a dog named Aomi.

“Whoa,” Kiba-brother breathed, face as astonished as I felt.

I pressed my hands–hands, not paws!–to my cheeks, passing it across my face. No muzzle, a dry nose, lips–soft, sparse peach fuzz instead of thick fur.

I ran to the slowly moving stream cutting through Team Eight’s training grounds, my brothers and hunting mates following after me. The water was glassy enough that I could see my face. My human face.

And it really was mine–even with the Inuzuka tattoos which I never had before, it was still recognizably me as I had been.

Human.

“I’m human!” I barked, then paused, “I’m human,” I tried again, but only a whimper escaped from my throat.

“Aomi-sister,” Akamaru-brother whined, crowding close to be picked up the same way he did whenever Hinata-hunting-mate needed cheering up.

“Aomi,” Kiba-brother said, so low and soft that I knew something must be wrong.

“I’m not human,” I cried, letting my brothers wipe away my tears.

A/N: Some random excerpts from a Dreaming of Sunshine inspired semi-humorous SI!OC fic in which said SI!OC is not reincarnated as any human but, rather, as a puppy.

I don’t think I’ll pursue this seriously, but the idea was pretty fun to play with so no doubt more snippets will hit me later on.

Anyway, some unnecessary headcanons under the cut!

Aomi was the runt of the litter and probably would have died had it not been for SI!OC’s soul clinging tenaciously to life. She also turns dark blue when she eats a soldier pill in contrast with Akamaru’s red.

Like Shikako of DoS, Aomi is a fair bit more motivated than her twin (not that that’s hard considering Shikamaru is laziness personified and Akamaru is literally a puppy) and works to be able to speak like a human–like Kuromaru and Kakashi’s ninken).

As for Aomi’s name: 青美. Well, I was considering Aomaru, since all of the Inuzuka dogs that are named are “color-maru” but then I decided I wanted a girl’s name. I chose the “mi” suffix instead of the other common girl’s names suffix “ko” because Aoko seemed too human sounding and also since “maru” can mean both round/circle and perfection, “mi” (as in beautiful) kind of fit well. So, Red Perfection and Blue Beauty for a pair of puppies.

Word Prompts (T27): Tower

“Ready, Princess?” He says, gleaming green eyes and a bright, sharp sickle for a smile. He extends a hand out to you, palms wider and fingers longer than your own–each of them ending with a sharp claw.

He is a nightmare made flesh, sin and misfortune in human form, and yet you are not scared. Not when he looks at you so beseechingly, patiently waiting on the wrong side of your balcony railing, bell around his throat to show he’s tame.

(Are beasts and men ever truly tame?)

Normally, he would not have to ask. Normally, you would already be out there, painting the night sky red with your own brand of justice. But tonight, you are not his lady.

You listen to the murmurs of sound from downstairs. Your parents following their routine, unaware of their daughter being tempted away.

Tonight, you are a Princess escaping your tower.

~

A/N: Uhhhh… really tiny thing that I mashed out because midnight was encroaching. I don’t know why Marinette isn’t going out as Ladybug tonight, but apparently MariChat (or MariNoir?) is my favorite iteration of the LadyNoir pairing so… 🙂

I so want to write more in this fandom so badly but my brain is not complying with me :/

edit: now on ao3 as part of the series Spots and Bells (and Unnamed Tales) here!

Untitled Descendants prompt response drabble (2015-11-20)

The first time, he doesn’t notice. Ben is a tactile person, he grew up with a father who would casually ruffle his hair when happy, a mother who would gently rest a hand against his cheek to show she cared. Touching is communication, is affection.

And so when he reaches out to place a hand on Carlos’ shoulder he doesn’t notice it. Doesn’t think much of the way Carlos tenses under his hand, how he curls away; attributes it to Dude and lingering traces of Carlos’ fear.

Ben doesn’t notice that first time.

Tourney means physical contact–tackles aren’t allowed, but checking happens frequently enough. It’s not so bad, everyone’s padded, but the first few times, Carlos makes like a turtle and huddles under his shield.

“No, you can’t just hide,” Ben says, pulling the shield away and offering Carlos a hand up; he hesitates before taking it.

“Well what’s the shield for, then?” Carlos shoots back, more than a little frustrated at their lack of progress. Scoring was easy to pick up–accuracy and speed something which came easy to him–but checking practice sucks.

Ben considers it, tries to articulate the thoughts that a culture of knighthood has instilled into him, “A shield protects you, yes, but it’s so that you can push forward and act,” he smiles, because that seems about right.

Uncertainly, Carlos smiles back.

“Why don’t we call it quits for now? You did well today,” Ben says. This time, when he reaches a hand out to Carlos, he notices the flinch and pulls back immediately. But he accredits it to checking practice and nothing more.

It’s not that Ben is watching Carlos–except for how he kind of is. He’s looking out for all of the Lost kids, really, wants to make sure they’re settling in okay. And if he focuses his attention on Carlos more than the others, well, that’s only because the other three seem to be handling the other students well enough on their own.

But as he watches, he begins to see a pattern.

Carlos has no problem picking up Dude and, for want of a better word, cuddling whenever he pleases. He also has no issues sharing personal space with his fellow Lost kids, drawing comfort from the closeness of his friends, or leaning in to share whispers with Evie–short white hair mixing with long blue. But it’s when touch is made that Carlos freezes.

The other Lost kids know it, too, and seem to accommodate in their own way. Evie flows around him, looping their arms together without any contact, until Carlos eases into it himself. Jay’s roughhousing is playful at heart, the way wolf cubs tussle and tumble with one another; even then, Jay will pause after initiating contact, to let Carlos adjust, before continuing. Mal and Carlos hardly ever touch, but in the rare occasions that happens, she looks him in the eye as a form of nonverbal warning before touching him.

It’s courteous, which isn’t a word Ben would think to use for the Lost kids, so it must be important.

~

A/N: So… this is a very very late response to anon’s prompt here and it… uh.. doesn’t really fill the prompt. So double sorry, anon (… or @jalencolbert?)

I had been hoping to put it into Ain’t No Rest, but since that’s on hiatus, I felt bad about letting it languish unfilled… hence this drabble.

I know you probably wanted some cute flirty touching but all I could think about was how Carlos is unused to positive contact and would be very touch shy. So I guess this could be considered “pre-slash” Benlos…

edit: now posted on ao3 here

Word Prompts (P12): Pen and Paper

Sometimes, especially in times like now, when she has a profusely bleeding leg wound and nearly depleted chakra, she’ll think about how none of this is real. In a way, it’s comforting–if it’s not real then her actions don’t have real consequences, she can make mistakes and do as she pleases.

But, in a completely opposite way, it’s terrifying: if none of this is real, then she’s not real; which means all of her pain–her impending death–means absolutely nothing.

“Hold on, Kiyoshi,” Dan says, pale hands pressed shakily over her thigh. Kunugi’s back is warm against hers, even through the layers of cloth. Or maybe she’s just that cold.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she says, teeth chattering. For getting injured to the point of immobility. For thinking, even for just a moment, that neither of her teammates might be real–that they might just be drawings in a story in another world, “I’m s-so sor-rry,” she begins to slur, her vision greying out.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Kunugi says, the vibration of his words and the rhythm of his breathing filtering through to her own unsteady chest.

“Yeah, that’s my job,” Dan tries to joke, but the concern in his voice is too audible.

She wants to laugh, anyway, to make him feel better, but all that comes out is a slightly harsher exhale.

“Hey! Stay awake Kiyoshi,” Dan says, breaking out what they like to call his future Hokage voice. The tone that would one day command a village.

But she doesn’t respond.

~

A/N: Something real quick because work was ridiculously bleurgh. And, as usual, the word prompt is still not in the actual drabble 😛

One Sentence Fic, the Akagami no Shirayukihime edition (2015-11-18)

(action/adventure)
It is a strange day indeed when the runaway Prince Zen meets the Red Lioness of the mountains–or perhaps it’s just fate.

(angst)
The second prince of Clarines meets the first prince of Tanburn’s red-haired consort two years too late.

(crossover/fusion)
By day they are a royal messenger and pharmacist; by night they are the kingdom’s masked heroes, Black Cat and Ladybug.

(fluff)
Most days she spends with her Mama and Daddy in the pharmacy, though sometimes she gets to play in Papa’s office instead; but her favorite is when all four of them are together.

(friendship)
In the end, social stations must still be adhered to; that does not prevent the five of them from being happy.

(horror)
Stage one of the disease is swirling bruises, a decrease in body temperature, and, eventually, death–stage two is reanimation.

(hurt/comfort)
They can shield Shirayuki from blades and poisons, but when it comes to nightmares all they can do is stay and listen.

(romance)
Zen officiates their wedding: and with a kiss, Miss Kiki and Mister Mitsuhide become the new Lady and Lord Seiran.

(smut)
Sometimes they’ll put on a private show–after all, Zen likes to see them together.

~

A/N: Speaking of going back to my roots! 😀 I realized I hadn’t read any Akagami no Shirayukihime in over a year and decided to go kissmanga and REREAD EVERYTHING. Excellent use of my time, obviously. So many OT3 feels for Zen, Obi, and Shirayuki.

This was surprisingly difficult… fun, but difficult. As you can tell, many of them are run-on sentences :/ but… ah, oh well.

Outliving The Ruins, 1/? (2015-11-17)

His father grew up in a desert. Where other benders lacked the focus to control so many grains of sand, his father had been able to bend entire dunes to his whim–as powerful as a god. Combined with his intelligence and shrewdness, it was no surprise when he became royal vizier. Second only to the sultan in Agrabah.

And yet, that was not enough for his father.

Sand is shifting, consuming, grasping. Greedy. Selfish. Sand is a poor foundation to build on, turns wind into something abrasive and destructive. There is no substance to sand.

Jay was born and raised on an island of rock and metal. All his life he has seen the people of the Isle build a home out of scraps, carve out an existence in an unwelcoming land. They are not ashamed and they do not falter.

Jay is a very different kind of earth bender than his father.

The water of the Isle is poisonous. The shoreline is murky with toxic waste, the clouds weep acid rain, and the river cutting across the island is more like a swamp. There is no pure water on the Isle.

And that’s the way Evie likes it.

Only a weak bender would need pure water. Night or day, tainted water or not, Evie is no weakling. The sea creatures near the Isle are hardier than their Auradon counterparts, acid rain is capable of wearing down stone, and the swamps are teeming with life. Water is life; the strong adapt. This is what she sees, this is what she learns.

She may never become a healer, but that is only one path a water bender may take. She will make her own path.

And anyway, as the daughter of a collector of hearts, she knows what the most potent liquid in the world really is.

Carlos is not a bender. His mother isn’t one, so he isn’t either. He doesn’t smile at the wind in his hair, doesn’t think about how running could so easily turn into flying. It’s only logical to think that wide open spaces are better than a cramped closet full of fur and steel; less so to think heights are safer than having his feet on the ground.

But he isn’t a bender. Can’t be.

There is only one air bender in the world and she’s in Auradon.

Mal is a dragon’s daughter, fire bending is in her genes. One of her earliest memories as a child is setting a minion’s clothes on fire, and her mother’s proud cackling in delight. It is much more difficult to earn that kind of praise now that she’s older, even if her abilities have improved greatly.

Maybe that’s the problem, because it’s not just her fire bending abilities that have improved. When she mimics Jay, she can also lift boulders; when she copies Evie, the raindrops freeze for her as well.

There is only one person who can bend multiple elements, after all; the Avatar has never been a force for evil.

~

A/N: Gotta get back to my roots… or something like that 😛

Some DescendantsxAtLA fusion fic! Sort of from these two posts. I don’t know if I’ll continue this, but it was floating around in my brain and I thought–better write that down before it disappears.

EDIT: NOW WITH TITLE “OUTLIVING THE RUINS”

Untitled Miraculous Ladybug drabble, the Ancient Egypt edition (2015-11-16)

A/N1: Because this freaking fandom just really makes me want kickass ladybug warrior woman and conflicted chat noir. And @edorazzi’s posts about the total cultural inaccuracies regarding the ancient Egypt/pharaoh episode made me want to see if I could resolve the issue.

~

There are no ladybugs in Kemet.

So Miriam can’t be entirely blamed when she throws her basket and shrieks, “Demon!” at the red thing flying around her family’s room. Later, when Miriam has calmed down, Tikki explains that she’s a kwami, not a demon.

Miriam still doesn’t quite understand the difference. Magic is something for the nobles or priests and priestesses of the temples–false gods, her elders murmur, so careful and so quiet–and so she does not have much to base her trust on, but she accepts that, for now, Tikki means no harm.

However they are at a crossroads: jewelry, too, is for the higher classes of the kingdom. Miriam’s not going to wear earrings in blatant disregard for her station. The overseers are not kind to slaves who don’t fall in line.

That first night, there are still no ladybugs in Kemet.

Ahsan is a priest in training of the Temple of Bast. It is an honor to be one of the chosen, so he doesn’t know why he wishes his father had refused. No, he is one of Bast’s children now–he has no father, only a mother.

He’s not unhappy: life at the temple is nice, and the rituals to ensure good and fertile harvest are important to the kingdom. He has a purpose and he knows his duties well; he just feels empty.

Bast is a wise and generous goddess, she must be, Ahsan thinks, to send him an avatar of her will in the form of a black cat. Plagg has an abrasive personality and a near intolerable fondness for fesikh, but it is a small price to pay.

Ahsan is not the first priest of Bast to become a vessel for her power–but he is, undeniably, the strongest.

Miriam keeps her head down, that is the way of life. Her entire culture, it seems, revolves around keeping her head down. She bites back the urge to scream, “Are we not the children of Jacob, he who wrestled with God?”

It is startling, because she has never been one for confrontation, for conflict. But she has the power to do something now, a small part of her whispers, or she could have the power. If she took up Tikki’s offer, pierced her ears, become more than just herself.

But ultimately, the decision isn’t up to her, not really. She’s never been the kind of person to stand by when someone needs help. Usually, that means adding a chore or two to her workload, but now she can do more. She can be more.

It is fitting that, as Ladybug, she wears red. To her people, red means joy and happiness; for the citizens of Kemet, for her enemies, red is bad luck.

He still doesn’t quite have a handle on his abilities. The other priests say it is because of his youth, his inexperience–they do not know why Bast has chosen him, but they cannot argue that he has been chosen. No other magician in Kemet can so easily rain destruction. Even if, for Ahsan, it was an accident.

Plagg says it’s because his abilities are bad luck–there is no good magic to be unlocked through control and hard work–but Bast is the protector, a goddess of good fortune. Surely, she wouldn’t bestow one of her children with the powers of misfortune?

Ahsan falters, doubts himself–never the goddess, no, the problem is with him, not her–until he hears of rumors. A red demon frequenting the slave neighborhoods, stopping them from fulfilling their purpose.

Above all, Bast is a goddess of cats–the sacred creatures who protect crops by killing vermin–Ahsan does not need to be able to light a fire or purify water or increase the growth of plants. He just needs to hunt down his goddess’ enemies and destroy them.

~

A/N2: Ahahaha… apparently they first meet because Black Cat wants to kill Ladybug? I dunno. Obviously, he fails. And then falls in love. Obviously. But that’s all I’ve got for now…

Have some reasoning/world-building: Basically, ladybugs and the color red have absolutely no (positive) meaning in ancient Egyptian culture. But what about Jewish culture?

I am not Jewish, nor am I an expert in Jewish history/culture so I don’t have any authority whatsoever. If I have made gross impositions or violations, please let me know–I am open to correcting or (if I really fucked up) deleting this post.

Anyway, I say this because I did a simple gleaning of wikipedia and got the following tidbits: “Tola’at” and “shani” (scarlet and crimson) symbolized blood, and thus frequently typified life, as well as joy and happiness. ALSO: In Hebrew, the ladybug is called “Moshe Rabbenu’s (i.e. Moses’s) little cow” or “little horse.” Occasionally it is called “little Messiah.” So… I mean… I dunno… maybe? I actually don’t know if I’m implying this iteration of Ladybug to be Miriam, sister of Moses, or just a girl who happens to be named Miriam but… decide how you will.

Anyway, anyway, I head-canon that the reason why Chat Noir wasn’t as prominent in that episode (even though he really ought to be considering ancient Egyptian culture) is because all of his supernatural abilities from Plagg would have been credited to Bast. Which would make him just one in a long line of cat-themed magicians. As opposed to Ladybug who would stand out as being the only ladybug themed woman warrior, with presumably no repeats in that region of the world.

edit: now on ao3 as part of the series Spots and Bells (and Unnamed Tales) here!