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đĄđŽđđśđźđťđŽđš đŚđđ˝đżđ˛đşđ˛ đŚđŽđ°đżđśđłđśđ°đ˛ đđŽđ is celebrated on March 18 each year to honor those who have sacrificed their lives for the greater good and freedom of others. Richard's chaRActers that imo best fit this category -- and through their sacrifices achieve redemption -- are Guy of Gisborne, Robin Hood; John Porter, Strike Back; Thorin Oakenshield, The Hobbit; and John Proctor, The Crucible.
Yâall I missed this detail for so long: the split-second FĂŠlix realizes whoâs in front of him, he throws his bag back into the bathroom!
I guess itâs not really anything major, but itâs kinda cool and funny to me that was able to think âQuick! Must hide the evidence!â and act on it so fast and make it barely noticeable. Cool character moment!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Heâd had it. Just ten minutes ago, Orikko had been with him, in that thumb ring on his finger, thrumming warmly and lending Marc his strength.
Ten minutes ago, Marc had been Rooster Bold, duplicating Lucky Charm sunglasses and running across rooftops and holding Orikko.
But that was ten minutes ago, and it was now.
And Orikkoâs symbol joined all the others in the sky.
How is this real?
Marc had been Rooster Bold ten minutes ago, in magic-hewn spandex and feathers and boots.
How is this reality?
How had Shadowmoth claimed all those Miraculousâ
How had everything gone so badly?
The television snaps off, and his mother moves to the window.
A chant echoes in Marcâs ears.
âLadybug! Chat Noir!â
He looks out at Paris, at the swarms and crowds roaring their heroesâ name, even as theyâre whittled down to two.
He joins the screams.
âLADYBUG! CHAT NOIR!â
Theyâre going to get them back, and it doesnât matter how but Marcâs going to help.
Heâs not useless without Orikko.
He canât be.
///
Couldnât you have done something?
Every ticking second, every looming clock.
Couldnât you have whispered just a word?
Every jewel reclaimed, every jewel lost.
Couldnât you have told them?
The people of Paris scream for their heroes, but Luka screams for Marinette and Adrien.
He wasted his time and now Sass is lost.
He wasted his time and now thereâs nothing he can do.
He wasted his time as someone helpless to help but when Shadowmoth comes Luka will resist, with every fiber of his being.
///
Wayzzâs shield defends him.
Is it my fault?
Maybe he was the first domino.
Maybe Nino was the catalyst, with his spur-of-the-moment Shellter.
Maybe, somehow, heâs the reason Ladybug lost when he saved Rena.
Maybe then Alya wouldnât have returned her Miraculous.
Nino opens the door so his girlfriend doesnât have to, so that she can raise her camera and film, capturing the mirage of butterflies and Miraculous symbols enclosed by a Shellter.
Because her blogâs all thatâs left, now.
The video will be grainy but the voice clear. They need a recording. They need it to be able to start fighting back.
He took our Miraculous, but that wasnât what made us heroes.
Their voices join the chant, as Paris shows Shadowmoth they still havenât bowed.
///
They scream for Marinette.
They scream for her partner.
They scream two names and not three, all because of her mistake.
She questioned Marinetteâs choices and made her own. It paid off in the past but the dominos have fallen and crashed the future.
All you had to do was wait to return it.
Ten minutes.
Ten minutes were all it could have took.
Ten minutes and Shadowmoth wouldnât have the Fox.
All of this is on you.
Alya raises her phone and films.
She never got the first time Shadowmoth threw up butterflies.
She turns the camera away, to the crowds of Parisians who roar in support of their heroes.
Unwavering.
Unfaltering.
Unrelenting.
So are we.
We have to be.
No matter what.
///
Zoè is not Parisian.
Zoè is from New York, its streets and sound and music and people in her blood. Zoè does not belong here, an imposter, an immigrant, a transfer of an invasive species.
She could leave.
She could run.
She could vanish from this place that isnât her home and leave her friends to rot.
She could be who she once was.
She screams her heroesâ names with Paris, because she is not of this country but she is one of its heroes.
Ladybug chose her to fight with them, and Zoè may not have her Miraculous but she will not run.
Not again.
///
Mylène is afraid.
She always is.
Sheâs always bone-deep terrified, fear sinking and wrapping its fingers into her skull, whispering and warping and muttering thereâs something wrong here.
Thereâs always something wrong.
Thereâs always another cause, another fight to stand by. Thereâs always fear and she has to rise. Sheâs sick of failing and falling but what else can she do?
Nothing.
Just one little insignificant mouse.
People talk about the protests but not the organization. People scream for celebrities but never managers. People are in awe of leaders but not leading.
To support a cause, there must be a rally. To support a purpose there has to be a protest. To support heroes there must be someone willing to lead the screams.
Mylène begins the chant.
She begins on Ivanâs shoulders, over all of them, screaming their heroesâ names because people need to know.
They are here.
They are still here.
They are Paris, they have not fallen, and Shadowmoth still has not burnt their protest to nothing.
For every shiver Mylène forces her back straighter. For every trickle down her spine she screams louder. For every cold bead of sweat she runs her fingers along her pins, along her causes, holds her boyfriendâs hand tight.
She screams in support of their heroes, and Paris screams with her.
///
Ivan remembers videos and death threats and scribbled graffiti and lava and ash and magma down his throat, then up it.
Ivanâs mind does not recall but sometimes at night he wakes with hundreds of tiny feelers crawling up his throat.
Ivan knows people talk about the event but not the after.
The attacks will be harsher. Bitterer. Sting in a way that they didnât before.
Did she know, when she gave you the Ox?
Sting with the defeat and loss and more than anything else it will be the words and not the actions that cut far more.
Was she mocking you, too?
Sting with the screams of those hurt because you messed up just once and it cost so, so dearly.
Or did she really believe in you, in all her heart?
The after will hurt and cut and bleed. The after will warp and pull and scream. The after will twist and smile and laugh, guttural as a scattered note with newspaper cut-out words forming kill yourself.
There is more to come. There is a life after the first domino, a space between when the maggots will crawl out with taunts and mocking calls and reveal their rot.
There are more battles that will arrive, and Ivan will face them as stubborn as an ox. Will face them with Ladybug and Chat Noir. Will face them with no Miraculous, as he had when he shouldered through the notes and graffiti and nightmares and avoidance.
And he will remain when theyâre over, because thereâs always an after.
///
What was the probability of this happening?
Statistics. Cold, hard facts. Account of margin of error. Take into account human factor.
Calculate the chances.
âŚ
Max Kantè, what were the chances?
What was the possibility? The probability? What exact unlucky circumstances aligned to erode the factor of magically swayed luck? What could force risk and pull chance to such a side?
What happened?
What went wrong?
What can you even do?
Figure out the issue. Solve it. Fix it.
Be helpful.
What were the chances?
There has to be something. Some way. Some method to realign and pull favour back to their side, to ensure the villainâs loss.
What is your strategy?
Some way. Somehow.
I have to do something.
///
People need a symbol.
People need something to show their support, their faith, their belief.
People need to show their heroes they stand by them.
Nathaniel sketches into the night, over his desk and doesnât sleep. School is still tomorrow and his mother will mutter and pull him from his desk but how can that matter right now?
He doesnât delete or private their comic. Nathanielâs fingers tend towards the buttons before he reminds himself it is his and Marcâs decision to make.
Nathaniel despises Shadowmoth utterly, wants to stab his eyes out with a pen or domino.
A red X.
But that is something that has to be left to the functioning heroes, now.
A yin-yang, equality and duality and opposites and likes.
He canât touch supervillains, canât attack butterflies with markers.
A butterfly, simple but representative of their hate.
Itâs four in the morning and his mother will kill him, but Nathaniel uploads the symbol for #ResistMothmanNow.
An akuma with a cross over it, over a background of yin and yang.
They will want a symbol, a flag, to use to rally their support.
Nathaniel canât touch Shadowmoth, but this small thing, he can do.
///
Ballads and rock and shanties and screams, rattling to the sound of hatred.
Rose hates it.
She doesnât like hate. She doesnât like how it can twist and rot and corrode and all thatâs left when itâs gone, all that remains, is hurt and loss and misery.
She doesnât want to say she hates Shadowmoth, because she knows herself. Knows that with her, hate will be slippery. Will twist and pull until she is just as bad.
But others can hate for her.
Others can hate as she supports, as she listens, as she lends a shoulder even now.
Because if everyone hates, and all is misery, heâll have won.
More than ever now, his greatest enemy is kindness and happiness and love, and Rose refuses to let that die.
Hate will bring carnage, and love will restore destruction.
It has to.
It will.
They are still here, and as long as they are, as long as thereâs love and not hate and people willing to fight, they will stand against him still.
///
What can we do now?
Everything will end but life goes on. The battle will be lost but thereâll still be life. The world will twist on its axis but that doesnât mean the present isnât worth fighting for.
Because itâs simple, isnât it? Villain bad. Heroes good. Heroes lost. Heroes have to get back up.
Thatâs all there is to it. All thatâs gotta be done.
But getting back up is always easier if thereâs someone helping pull you.
And if Kim has to be that guy, if heâs got to run into a fight or battle to haul his heroes up, he will.
Heâs got to be there for them. Paris has to be there, right now, in the final lap before the deciding finish.
Heâs going to pull them up. He will.
Heâs not going to stand by as they fall.
///
Itâs not safe, Marinette wants to scream.
Because whatâs wrong with her friends?
Why are they still here?
Why canât they cheer as silent supports, waiting until the battle is over to scream their names?
Why are they joining when they have no power?
Why are they still here when she lost them all?
///
A resistance is small but takes time to grow.
A resistance is small until itâs a rally and a symbol and a name on news and forums and lips.
A resistance is small until itâs a protest screaming with their own weapons and own powers and own ability and strength.
A resistance is small until itâs a group of heroes and nothingâs changed, not really.
///
All thatâs different, Marc writes, is they have jewels now. But they were still heroes without them, still fighting on in the ten minutes before.
