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margowritesthings · 2 years ago

Text

The Greatest Gift A Cowgirl Could Ask For

a @rdrevents Valentines gift exchange for @cowboydisaster

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 4,400 words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, sexual themes, vaginal sex, mentions of death, unprotected sex, throwing up (TW EMETOPHOBIA), very brief mention of SA in the past, unexpected pregnancy, mentions of Micah Bell a/n: am I britney spears in her 2000 grammy award winning song??? because oops, i did it again. i don't know how I managed to get Bea as my recipient for a SECOND time, but it only felt right to carry on building this universe I've made for her and lying to her about it all week. Whoops.

Bea, my beloved, Happy Valentines Day. You deserve the world and Im so glad I could dedicate this fic to you. Honestly I probably couldn't have gotten the motivation to get back on my feet and write again if it wasn't for you. Thanks for everything you do bby and I hope this lives up to your 'if by some miracle you get me for your gift exchange disregard my prompts and write a TGG prequel' (yes she actually said that) idea. Love you lots xxx

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @luvliewriting @mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @snobbybastard

My Darling Wife,

I’m writing to you from up near Tempest Rim. I’ve tracked this bounty all over the goddamn Grizzlies and I’m ready to come home to you. I miss you so much and I’m real sorry I can’t be home in time for St. Valentines. Hopefully I can catch this bastard soon and make it up to ya. We’ll go to the theatre and sit right at the back, how’s that sound? I’ll move heaven and Earth to be beside you soon, you know I will.

I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can be with enough money to take you out on the town. Won’t be long, I promise.

All my love, Arthur

Your finger runs over his looped script, over and over as if it will somehow will your husband out of the crumpled paper and into your bed. It’s been 2 months since the letter arrived, 2 months of the agony of not knowing if he’s dead or alive robbing you of sleep each and every night. You miss him, more than you could ever imagine one person could miss another and you honestly don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t come home.

It’s a 600 dollar bounty, it’s sure to be a tough job you constantly reassure yourself, unable to focus on anything but the absence of half of your very soul in every waking moment.

The day he comes home starts like any other. Time's arrow marches on, the sun rises and sets over your makeshift family as they work and plan and rob and hunt. You busy yourself planning a job with Karen, cushioned into your schedule between menial tasks so that it’s just that bit easier to not think about him. As usual, your efforts are in vain, but at least the chores are done, your steed Diesel is happy, and, all being well, you and Karen will have about 30 dollars to split between you when the week is out.

An hour before he comes home, everyone retires to bed, save for John (who’s on watch tonight) and you’re left alone by the campfire. It crackles and pops, embers swirling the air around you. It feels like you stare at the twisting flames until your eyes blur and burn and you can’t tell which are tears of irritation to your senses and which are your heart breaking once more.

Moments before you’re reunited with the second half of your heart, you hear John yelling. It’s instinct that drives your hand into your holster, still resting against your hip despite the late hour, and you perk up like a startled deer, straining to decipher Marston’s words.

“Who is it?!” “Arthur, you dumbass!”

Arthur.

Arthur?

“Arthur?!” It’s a breathless shout, barely heard over the rushing blood in your ears as your feet take you to your husband before your mind can even fathom that he’s here.

But sure enough, when you reach the edge of camp, heart racing, you see Arthur Morgan riding his chestnut mare straight towards you, spurring her into a gallop as soon as he lays his eye on his waiting wife. Marston probably makes some remark about who ‘decided to show up’, but to you, there is nothing but you and Arthur, two magnets parted by an unnatural force finally reaching each other again with a deafening crash.

And it is. A crash, that is, when Arthur all but throws himself off his saddle and your bodies collide, great big arms wrapping around your frame. It is then that the tears fall down your cheek, soaking into Arthur’s coat that smells so much like him it truly feels like a dream.

You thought he was dead.

Only when you’re safely in his arms, when he’s pressing frantic kisses to your head, whispering your name over and over into your hair do you allow yourself to admit that fact. You thought he was never coming back, and yet here he is. Words fail you, the overwhelming emotion settling right in your throat.

“Oh, god… oh, darlin’ I-I missed you so much…”

You feel two large hands cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss that holds everything and anything the past 3 months could have been had you not spent it apart. But everything fits back into place, the world starts spinning again and you’re whole the second Arthur Morgan’s lips meet yours. It lasts a lifetime, it lasts a fraction of a second. You want to stop time, keep Arthur in your arms forever and never again have to go through the torture of being away from each other. The two of you only part to throw near identical scowls at John, who is amusing himself by telling you to get a room.

Unfortunately, as Ms. Grimshaw so often reminds you all, the Van der Linde Camp is not a hotel, so tonight you will not be afforded the luxury of a private suite as John so kindly suggested. There is only your tent, hitched against the gang’s weapons wagon, the old canvas pulled around to offer a little privacy when you and Arthur first started… well, needing the seclusion.

Calloused fingers intertwine with your own digits, Arthur’s other hand flipping John off before his weight pulls you towards your little corner of camp. There's so much purpose in his stride, the need to have you all to himself, not even share you with the lord above or wildlife below, driving him forward. Driving him home.

When you’re finally, truly alone, the tears welling in your eyes glistening in the candlelight, no words are needed. Soon enough, you’ll talk for hours on end, catching each other up on every little detail of the last few months. But for now, all that there is and all that could matter is right this very second, when Arthur reaches for you, brushing a thumb over the tear tracks on your left cheek. His eyes, looking almost emerald in the dark of night, roam over each and every detail of you with such an intensity in him that you think he’s trying to remember this moment for the rest of time. You’re sure it’s one you could never possibly forget.

Arthur snakes both arms around your waist, guiding you backwards until the backs of your knees gently hit the cot and you lay back onto it. He covers the full length of you and then some, making you feel so fragile and small. It’s nice to feel breakable for once, to let go of the need to be the strongest in the room, lest you be ridiculed for being too sensitive or too weak or too womanly. Arthur knows just how strong you are, you need to prove nothing to him, so you can submit to his embrace, allow yourself to just breathe for once knowing you can break and there’s re will always be somebody to put you back together.

He lowers himself to your lips, pressing a kiss to them that doesn’t last nearly long enough. Arthur then kisses your nose, then your cheeks and chin, before trailing down to the crook of your neck. Your skin feels as though it’s on fire, so starved for the man you cannot live without that now he’s finally here everything feels that much more intense. The tiniest scrape of Arthur’s teeth against your flesh shoots through every single nerve in your body and you moan right into his ear. You can actually feel him harden against your thigh at the sweet melody of your pleasure.

Pushing Arthur’s hat off to the side, your fingers rake through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp encouragingly as he nibbles at your skin.

“Oh, Arthur… Oh, I missed you so much…” You breathlessly whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat when he pauses his movements to glance at you from under impossibly long eyelashes, jade green eyes glistening up at you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So so much.” His voice is soft, as if he’s handling the peacefulness around you so delicately and it causes the overwhelming emotion to well in your chest and choke up your throat. Arthur sees this, trying not to be too taken with his own surprising amount of emotion himself, and relieves you of your job of a response by directing his attention to the buttons of your shirt. You don’t remember him pushing your jacket off your shoulders, but there it lies on the floor beside the entrance to your tent, so he must have.

Despite the juxtaposition of such dainty buttonholes and such large fingers, Arthur expertly undresses your top half until you’re bare to him. He takes no time at all to take one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing and sucking at it with a hunger you feel right in your toes. You moan loudly, unable to stop yourself after yearning for this very feeling for so long.

Arthur coos and shushes you and it vibrates across your skin, not helping you stay quiet in the slightest. The hand not tugging on his dirty blonde locks reaches between your two longing bodies to begin to unbuckle his belt. You can feel your own heartbeat throbbing between your legs, your coil growing tighter and tighter by the second. It’s been almost 3 months since your bodies have joined like this, and yet you’re not sure you can wait another minute.

You’re purring for Arthur, twitching and grinding as your hand fumbles desperately at the belt. His absence from your skin is agony the second he pulls his hips back to sit up straight. Spotting your downright bratty expression, bottom lip protruding in a pout, Arthur chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby… I gotta get these damn clothes off us.” He gestures to his belt, still very much buckled around his waist. Definitely not your fault. He was being far too distracting.

He’s quick, you’ll give him that, shedding his clothes without taking his eyes off you. You burn under his stare, even more so when he crawls back on top of you to slide your boots off one by one and peel your pants and undergarments down your legs.

The heat radiates off his huge body, his cock pulsing with need. The way he’s putting his weight into his arms to stop from crushing you with his weight adds a definition to his already beautifully sculpted body. Reaching down, you brush the tip of your finger oh so gently over his rosy head, finding a bead of cum already leaking, and you snap. You can’t wait a second longer, scratching and gripping at him like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Please, Arthur, please I need you. S-So long, it’s been so long-” “Shh, I know, princess, I know. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Gonna take care of your pretty little cunt, I promise.” He soothes you, though his own voice is shaky from the very effort of restraining himself, maintaining his control to not drive into you and ruin you. While he whispers to you, he lines himself up at your entrance and you quiver in anticipation.

In all your years before you met Arthur, you never really saw sex as anything but something to give, or worse, something to be taken from you. You never truly understood, not until you met Arthur, who taught you it’s something to share, to experience. With Arthur, it’s different. It is connection and pleasure and it’s wonderful and god damn it, it’s addictive. So when Arthur slides into you, letting out a visceral, guttural groan as he does, everything is right in the world.

You feel so full, especially when Arthur pushes all the way to the hilt, connecting you completely at the pelvis. The moan that escapes your lips is downright obscene and Arthur crashes down into your mouth to swallow it.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been so long, or the emotion of it all, but you swear you can feel everything. Every vein and ridge, every twitch and movement of his perfect cock as Arthur slowly starts to move in and out of you.

“Fuck… s-so good, darlin. So tight- y’feel so fucking good, princess…”

You’ve never hurtled so close towards a climax so quickly in your life. His torturously slow, deep thrusts drag into your sweet spot every fucking time and trying to hold back brings a blur into your vision. Your own hips grind against his, Arthur gripping into your flesh to guide you perfectly in time with him.

“I-I’m so close already, Arthur… fuck…” You breathe out, your breath tickling Arthur’s ear and sending a visible shudder down his spine. He looks proud at your admission.

“You missed me that much, huh? Gonna cum for me already, darlin’?”

He gives you no time to respond, pressing a thumb to your clit and rubbing in time with everything else. You implode, pulling Arthur down to catch the scream you’re about to wake everybody up with. It has never felt so intense, and with every thrust Arthur fucks into you it only grows and grows, shattering you to pieces for Arthur to fix back together again.

When you return, a rhythmic thudding in your ears, the first thing you see is Arthur, of course. His jaw is fluttering madly, a bead of sweat clinging to his forehead but the candlelight makes him look ethereal. You still can’t believe he’s here, alive.

Tears start to glisten in your eyes. You’ve never cried during sex before, not for anything positive, at least, but somehow this doesn’t feel wrong. Arthur slows again, watching you, and you spot an extra shine to his own jade orbs. He knows. He feels it too.

He’s right there with you. As he always is.

He brushes a piece of hair stuck to your forehead away, and the gesture is enough to send the tears falling down the same worn path on your cheeks as before.

“I love you, Mr. Morgan…” “I love you, Mrs. Morgan…”

It seems to become too much for Arthur to stay still, and you’re glad for it. You’re desperate for the friction, already flying towards another orgasm. He’s really fucking into you this time, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. He’s groaning and growling and you decide in that moment that it’s your favourite sound in all the world.

“I… I ain’t gonna last much longer, baby…”

“C-Cum in me…” “Huh?” He slows, shuddering at the exertion required to control his movements, “I-”

But you’re not listening to his protests, your nails digging into the skin of his back and ass and anywhere else you can reach to urge him forwards again.

“Please Arthur, I-I need you… I need you to cum with me, I need you with me…” you plead with him, not truly understanding your need but honouring it. You’ve been without him for so long, you deserve him with you now.

He appears to consider you for just a moment, before diving down to lock your lips with his. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting every bit of you and he starts to pump into you unreservedly. His body grinds against yours and the friction is perfect and you’re so fucking full and before you can even try to hold back, you’re cumming again, stars scattering your vision, heart pounding out of your chest to find release from it’s mortal, physical cage. Your inner walls twitch around Arthur’s length and this time, he doesn’t hold back either.

His eyes fly open and lock onto yours as you both climax together. It’s vulnerable and strange, but perhaps more connected than you ever thought possible for two people to be.

Arthur’s cock twitches inside you, pumping out his spend as he groans viscerally, completely losing control of his rhythm as he thrusts into you one last time, harsh and deep. You’ve never experienced this before, with Arthur or any other man, normally erring on the side of caution when it came to such matters, but even as you come down you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Whatever you and Arthur just experienced together felt spiritual, and worth much more than a little risk.

Arthur collapses, even as depleted as he is still considerate enough to collapse onto his elbows and not crush you. He slides out of you, earning a little wince, and rolls to the side so you can rest your head on his chest. It’s like a locket that’s been ripped apart, finally fixed together with the most satisfying click.

═══════☆═══════

Two months later, life has returned to its equilibrium. You and Arthur are perhaps clingier, still in a sort of second honeymoon phase where you just can’t seem to keep your hands off each other, more so than usual. It’s a side effect of prolonged solitude, you’re sure.

The first time it happens, you blame Pearson and think nothing of it. It’s pretty early in the morning and you’re sitting with Tilly and Abigail, peeling potatoes for the stew tonight. Abigail is venting her frustrations about when John did this and John said that, and everything feels so normal. Pearson arrives, throwing a rather large, rather dead fish onto the table you’re leaning against and you feel the thud from the weight of it vibrate against your back.

It isn’t until the smell invades your senses that everything starts to feel off. It smells exactly like all the other fish Pearson has ever slammed onto that poor table, which doesn’t explain why you immediately lurch forwards, grabbing an empty bucket and throwing up your breakfast. The fish stench is suffocating and all you can do is get the hell away from it, not noticing when Abigail’s brows knit together almost… knowingly?

You skip the stew that night.

―

The second time it happens, you try not to think about it. You’re riding Diesel and almost don’t make it off him in time. There is nothing to set you off, no horse shit or rotting animal at the side of the road, and yet in an instant your stomach feels like it has been flipped upside down.

The sheer volume of your retching catches Arthur’s attention and he tugs on the leather reins in his hands to steady his mare.

“Darlin’? Y’alright?”

His concern is evident in his tone and in the tight line between his brows, which deepens when he finds you unable to respond in anything but a frantic nod. He dismounts, spurs clicking against the dusty ground when he approaches you.

“Oh, sweetheart… that’s it, easy, easy… you’re okay…”

You feel gentle circles rubbed into the tense muscles of your back as you try to get through this again. It’s not lost on you that Arthur is speaking to you like a spooked horse, but it actually really does help. (You decide to prioritise peace of mind and not psychoanalyse why that is). Eventually, it relents and you regain your composure, albeit somewhat less gracefully than you’d have liked.

“Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into me, maybe I ate somethin’.”

Your apology for something you can’t help earns you a sad smile from your husband, who places a loving kiss on the top of your head before reaching for your discarded hat and putting it back on for you.

“Y’don’t gotta apologise. I gotcha, darlin’.”

You know he does.

He always does.

―

The third time it happens, the luxury of denial is stolen from you. It’s early enough that your view while you sit with Abigail drinking coffee involves glorious hues of orange and pink scattered around the rising sun. It’s peaceful, tranquil. The warmth of the little metal mug in your hands and Arthur’s jacket around your shoulders is enough to ward off the fresh morning chill in the air.

There is absolutely no warning when it hits, when it happens again. You’re so goddamn sick (no pun intended) of hurling. Your eyes water and your throat hurts a little and you curse under your breath when it’s over. Abi is beside you, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. She waits until it’s over before speaking hesitantly.

“Uh, can I ask you somethin’?”

You nod, eyes still red and glistening as you swirl coffee around your mouth to take away from the awful, acidic taste lingering.

“When did you last bleed?”

“What, like an injury? Uh, I cut my hand couple days back, but I don’t see what-“

… Oh fuck.

═══════☆═══════

The anxiety bounces around your body and you decide that you’ve become far too acquainted with the concept of nausea. You can actually tell the difference between nerves twisting your stomach and… well, let’s say it as it is: morning sickness. This is the former, you deduce, spinning both your engagement and wedding ring around your finger to give your hands something better to do than carve fingernail-shaped moons into your palm. He should be home any minute now. Any minute now and it will all change forever.

It’s quite late, but the poker game Arthur was scoping out for potential jobs is known to last a while. You’re the only one still awake, poking the embers of the campfire to keep yourself as comfortable as possible.

You hear hooves hitting dry dirt first, and it seems to trigger your fight or flight response. God, you’d love to run away from this, but that is pretty much impossible, so fight it is. It’ll be the greatest fight of your life, you’ll soon learn, one you’re privileged to be a part of. But right now, it feels like an all-consuming unknown.

Arthur can tell something is wrong the second he sees you. You’re terrible at hiding things, especially from him. He always reads you as though you have a poster advertising your feelings printed on your forehead. Arthur dismounts, kissing you tenderly on the temple and wrapping his arms around you.

“What’re you still doin’ up, darlin’? Is everything alright?” You can feel his worry vibrating in his chest as you nuzzle into his embrace.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… Can we talk? I kept the fire goin’.” You say it into his shirt, reluctant to move from this hold.

“Of course…” there’s something in his voice, a tense apprehension that really doesn’t help the knot contorting itself in your gut.

While you’re more than capable of keeping a fire going, Arthur is an expert, and has it healthily burning within seconds of you sitting down on the overturned log the gang has fashioned into a bench. You’re back to spinning your beautiful gold bands around your finger, trying to remember to breathe in and out every so often.

“What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?” His voice is so soft, so kind that it makes you want to cry. But you promised yourself you wouldn’t until you’d told him, because this might just be the most important conversation you’ve ever had, and you definitely won’t get through it if you’re a blubbering mess.

“I, uh… I… somethin’s happened.”

You hear his breath hitch in his throat and Arthur leans towards you, completely enveloping your hands in his. They’re sandwiched in now and you can’t fiddle with your rings anymore.

“What? What happened? Was it Micah? If he’s said somethin’ to you, I’ll kill him, the rat bastard-”

“No, no, it’s… as much as I’d love to see that, it’s not him.”

The tension releases. Just a little bit.

“I’m pregnant.”

Oh wait, there it is.

The silence is deafening, even though you’re almost certain it isn’t actually silent out here right now. There's a fire going and crickets are just metres away, you’re just shutting down with nerves.

The normally so often tense, fluttering jaw of Arthur Morgan is slack, his eyes wide and gaping at you, occasionally flicking down to your so far bump-less belly. (You should know- you’ve been obsessively looking in a mirror any chance you get for some sort of sign that this is really happening).

Say something. Please say something. Please don’t be angry. Oh, God please don’t hate me.

“I-I… You’re pregnant?” He repeats, reassuring you that you haven’t actually gone deaf, though his tone holds no indication of anything but shock. That’s probably fair…

You nod, hands instinctively reaching over your belly. It feels… weird. Holding your hands over your baby. Yours and Arthur’s baby.

“It happened a couple months back, when you got back from The Grizzlies, I think… I-I’m sorry, Arthur. I shoulda’ been more careful and-and…” You’re rambling, filling a silence that probably should just be allowed to be a silence.

“There… There’s gonna be a baby?”

There. Right there, adorning Arthur’s beautiful features, is the pull of a smile. It chokes you up instantly, so far deep in nightmares of arguments and unhappiness that you hadn’t even considered the good. You start to nod, a little bit of your fringe falling in your face.

“Yeah… There’s gonna be a baby. Our baby…”

“Our baby…” He repeats, his arm raising to brush the hair away from your eyes in such a natural manner it feels like it’s just his instinct to care for you. It is his instinct to care for you, Arthur has shown you that in every minute of every day of your marriage, and suddenly you’re not sure why you’ve been so scared.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” He still seems in disbelief, but that’s normal. It’s taken you a few days to come to terms with it, and even then the fingernail marks in your palms are still red raw.

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

It hits him. Really hits him and he all but throws himself into you, scooping you up and spinning you around as he laughs unreservedly.

“Well goddamn, I’m gonna be a Daddy!”

You laugh with him, worries and anxiety a distant memory as your feet swing around in the air. You’re probably waking the camp up, but you don’t care all that much. Right now, you’re the happiest girl in the world.

A baby. There’s gonna be a baby. Arthur’s baby.

Really, it’s the greatest gift a cowgirl could ask for.

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tadpolesonalgae · 5 months ago

Note

“You made more than a mistake, Az. Now we’re all hurting because you—”

i am so glad it's finally been said out loud. And that it was Mor who said it because immediately I understood how she was feeling about the entire situation, which made me feel better about her being an asshat at the end of the last chapter. It's strangely therapeutic. As soon as Mor tells Az to shut up though, I couldn't help but start crying a little bit because you really perfected how I thought Mor would've perceived reader going to Eris-

“She could have come to any of us. It’s more than we ever had, and yet she ignored it. Then tries to pretend it away? I’m not immune to that. If she can’t even be bothered to care about my pain why should I give a damn about hers?”

-this line in particular ruined me (not to be too personal n emotional lol), as someone who grew up in a not so great home i can really empathize with Mor here. It's not healthy behavior but I can say that there have been times where I've resented the people in my life who didn't accept help after i had been desperate for it for years. I'm more emotionally aware now and have unpacked those resentments (THANK GOD), but it was such a visceral response to reading that line because it mirrored unhealed me.

The next scene with madja was the perfect balance to mor and azriel's...argument? discussion? idk. You really guide us well through the world which is something I really admire in your writing, it flows very naturally and it always feels like a very natural progression of events. (its just something i've noticed i struggle with in my own wips lol).

compliments aside, it was also really sweet to see reader's peace in this chapter. Madja herself being a very peaceful motherly figure for reader who we know desperately needs that kind of care right now, her sisters are doing great right now but she needs someone who's not family to prove that they do care about her and it will not change over a few mistakes. Which is something that Cassian embodies very well later in the chapter too.

Bas.... sweet guy :( i hope reader gives him the truth. Imo, i think he deserves at least a bit of the truth when she is in a better place to give it (she fr could've said she was at a friend's in autumn. bas doesn't need to know WHO). But Bas held up his own boundaries very well with reader as well and I'm glad that we got a little of his feelings on the situation as well as reader acknowledging she hasn't been a great friend recently. (it's valid tho she's been goin THROUGH IT)

Tabbatha... you keep saying you don't know how to portray cassian but i personally think you do him such a great service ESPECIALLY after some instances of cass's behavior towards nesta's struggles in her own healing journey. I really feel like he actually cares about reader herself compared to rhys who cared about feyre and her only. He makes an effort to get her to relax, which is something acomaf cass would've done and is the version of him i miss the most. And him calling reader out for keeping things to herself? I personally think she needs to be called out and take accountability for her own role in the healing process. He was the perfect person to push her in this scene.

The dinner scene also really resonated with me and my own childhood. As a kid growing up we NEVER ate dinner together, so reader's apprehension to going to dinner is so real, and Mor sitting across from her?

oh myyyy goodness, ik this chapter just came out but im already rereading hehehe im so excited for the next one

-🤠

If I’m honest with you, I wanted Mor to tear into Az a little more than she did? For her to fairly obviously and kind of viciously defend reader but I felt it would be weird for her to go that far, considering Mor is supposed to be feeling very betrayed and hurt by reader? I did have fun with writing Mor telling Az to shut up though 🫣 I even nearly italicised it 🫢😳

‘The next scene with madja was the perfect balance to mor and azriel's...argument? discussion?’

Oh I really liked writing the Madja scene!! I mean, kind of scary obviously, but I enjoy her character and it’s so nice getting to write someone being kind to reader? 😭 Particularly since a fair amount of scenes in cbmthy aren’t particularly lighthearted/high-spirited? I’m hoping to continue dropping scenes with Madja in here and there since it would be weird if reader’s checkups suddenly stopped out of nowhere? Also so she has someone to keep an eye on her who might know a little more about what’s going on with her physically and mentally from experience and studying other people/medicine?

‘(its just something i've noticed i struggle with in my own wips lol).’

This might be totally unsolicited/unhelpful, but usually for me if a scene isn’t working or I’m struggling to write it, I’ll either change the perspective or switch to something else entirely? Like the scene just after reader’s entered the kitchen with Cassian I was struggling with, which is why there’s that snippet from Rhys’ pov to section them up? I don’t know if that’ll work for other people, but it’s something I fall back on quite regularly so it might help you too? 🫂🧡💛

‘but she needs someone who's not family to prove that they do care about her and it will not change over a few mistakes. Which is something that Cassian embodies very well later in the chapter too.’

I’m so glad you feel Cassian read that way!! 😭 I’m kind of of the mind that Nesta’s still protective over her sisters and so that might occasionally stretch across to Cassian at times? Also I just feel like Cassian genuinely cares about people in a more (this might sound strange) innocent way? Like more carefully and tenderly?

I would have loved to write Cassian and reader as being good friends but because Cassian’s friends with Feyre I think reader would still always feel in second place and unfortunately it might hinder her more than help 😭

‘Tabbatha... you keep saying you don't know how to portray cassian but i personally think you do him such a great service’

I’m literally refusing to respond to this because I’m so embarrassed and flustered from the compliment 😶‍🌫️

‘As a kid growing up we NEVER ate dinner together, so reader's apprehension to going to dinner is so real, and Mor sitting across from her?’

Yes! And especially after she’s done something that so obviously puts her in a vulnerable position too? Now they all know that she was in a place like that I can’t imagine reader will feel particularly comfortable over dinner 😭

As for Mor, I think I’m actually going to be writing this scene tonight, so I’ll be interested to see what happens? (Because honestly I don’t 100% know how it’s going to go either 😭🫣)

‘oh myyyy goodness, ik this chapter just came out but im already rereading hehehe im so excited for the next one’

Babes oh my gosh I was struggling to start chapter 18 so did a change 🫢��

I had so much fun writing the opening scene to the next part and I’ll be so excited to hear some thoughts on it—if you or anyone has any thoughts on it, of course 🧡💛

#🤠 anon <3 #🤠#cbmthy #cbmthy chapter 17 #cbmthy chapter 18

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creativebrainrot · 10 months ago

Text

Open Journal Entry - New Years (2023)

okay so i canNOT be coherent but fuck theres a lot on my mind right now.

this year was the worst fucking year of my life- it's atLEAST in the top 3.

We faced near-homelessness, awful food insecurity, the death of two beloved pets, the death of our abuser, of 20+ years, after he had only been out of our lives for two/three years at that point, and he did it to himself.

Our car broke down, our debt got worse, our abuser's family tried to take out home from us, they were such cunts. We had been trying to sell our house all year, we didn't succeed until a month ago.

I lost my first ever cat and it still hurts that she might be here right now if we had only had more money saved. She had a great life but I wasn't ready to let go of her, and I don't think losing BK will ever stop hurting. I miss her sweet little face so much. I miss her sweet little chirps and her silliness and just her presence so fucking much. it's agonizing. I miss her.

This year was one in four awful fucking years.

I don't know if 2023 was worse than 2022 for me. They feel like the same year. It was fucking awful.

But.

Last december, I forced myself to reach out. I made myself make a little "hey does this fandom have any guilds or discord servers for/by gw2blr?" post before I went to sleep for the night. I made myself reach out right before I had to sleep so that I couldn't panic and take it back.

It was one of the best decisions I've ever made for myself. I made my first ever friends from that decision. In fact the person (hi silv ily silv (/platonic)) who invited me to the gw2 server I hold so dear (hi slei ily slei and stuu ily stu /platonic kissy ur forehead) Is one of my closest friends now.

I have, a lot of issues. with trust and self-love and self-worth and I still struggle so much with thinking im not good enough and that everyone will find someone better etc etc I've made insanely good progress AND i have never before had people in my life that I feel like I know I can trust with myself. i am staring directly at my good friends Silvesi and Wynn/Straywyvern. shoutout to you to Specifically.

AND

im throwing affection directly at all of my friends. sorry im just like this not sorry receive affection for the new year CUNTS-

I absolutely love talking with Silv & Wynn & Del, you motherfuckers understand me on a very specific and unique autistic level ily and i love talking to you and infodumping to you and shitposting with you etc etc we need to be more insane with eachother more often beloved friends etc etc my besties <3

I've met so many people who while im not as close with them I love and am so fucking happy i met them and got to be friends with them regardless. lieflet, stu, slei, mabi, dot, lynx, fox oh my god theres so many of you.

youre so creative, kind, fun, chill, I feel safe with you and I love being stupid with you and im so glad I met the lot of you.

I've met so many fucking artists I admire so much through slei's gw2 server and that server is so relaxed and fun and chill I miss being able to hang out with you all in game. "your idols are your peers" lives in my head rent free as quote because its so true and I love. I Love.

im rlly hoping this next year my dad and I can fucking relax. for TWO minutes. oh my god.

I miss being able to relac. I miss feeling safe. I miss, so much. But not the last four years, and not that shit house I grew up in.

What I look forward to is pestering my besties more and more as I become more and more confident in myself and what others seem to see in me. I can't see it, but I'm gonna try and trust the words you say to me more and more.

Even if I end up being right, my worst fears come true, eventually. I'm gonna put in the effort like this is "forever" because we deserve to try the best for ourselves Right Now.

here's to the new year At The Very Least not getting WORSE.

#creativelyrottedmind #rotthoughts #theres some negative stuff in here and heavier mentions #pet death #abuse #theres so much on my mind and i cant wait for january because it can all reset for a second

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bwobgames · 2 years ago

Text

Previous First

"Coffee, finally"

"Man, I can't believe it's over"

"That's understandable, we basically spent the whole night on panic mode"

"I know! And now we are supposed to go back and worry about normal stuff?

This is like when I was a kid and thought quicksand would be a big problem in my day to day life

What do you mean I don't have to think about time resetting maniacs anymore??"

"I mean, who would believe it?"

"That's true.

All of us are going to trauma bond so much"

"I can see that.

I'm glad we got friends out of it, at least.

That's how difficult it is to make friends as an adult, you need at least one stabbing for a dnd group"

"Been there, been there"

The house explodes again, the bomb squad is waiting on firefighters and the police.

The body was found and covered

They all agreed it was an attempted mass murder gone wrong

"... So, how do you feel?"

"Like a very used rope that will snap at the lightest weight"

"I feel like my skin is not as resistant as it used to be, like whatever happened took parts of me that I'll never get back"

"...Yeah, I understand"

"Not to be pessimistic, but part of me feels like I will never leave this place

Even though it's destroyed, even if they tear it down and build a starbucks on top

I think I'll still be here

A ghost of me"

Oliver Beebo recently started believing in ghosts

The supernatural and psychological type

"My dreams are going to get so weird now"

"Hey, I told you, didn't I? I have great contacts in the mental health department"

"Is that why you're so put together still?"

"I am nowhere near put together, I'm just great at acting like I do"

"I think someone called it masking?"

"Comes with the job"

"I'm sure"

Marigold approaches

"Hello! I wanted you two to know that we will take care of everything legal, but we do need you to testify, so if I could have your numbers for further contact?"

"Oh, of course"

"Also, the now renamed family Iraola cordially invites you to any and all holidays and game nights"

"Oh, nice! Does this involve card games?"

"If you ask Owen, he will immediately challenge you to some kind of battle on his multiple card game sets"

"I will bring only my best for such opponent"

"Uh, miss Marigold Iraola?"

"Yes?"

"When should we concrete the legal agreement to pass you the company?"

".... What?"

"You are the one who should have it. It's only fair"

He gives Oliver a look

"... really? But you used so much money!"

"Well, I wouldn't mind a, let's say, monetary compensation for my efforts both here and there"

"I don't think 'efforts' is the right word for your work at the company, Nadia would throttle you for saying that"

"Did it go broke."

"Uh. I don't know"

"...Alright, that's fine. I'll fix it and get you two with psychological compensation, medical compensation, and, well, compensation for the detective work"

"I have been in worse situations and been paid 20 dollars. This is the best thing that could happen to my wallet"

They interchange phone numbers and are put on the "Clock haters" groupchat

Vivi immediately floods his phone with cat memes

He answers with a thumbs up emoji

"... I feel like I should do something"

"It better not be stand up. Your ankle is lumpy and weird"

"No, no. I mean...

When I was at the other house, I promised to let a bit of beard grow, to, yknow, commemorate my survival, I guess.

Maybe I should let my hair grow? Would it look to unkept?"

"If you let someone else cut it, then you could look fine"

"But my money"

"I'll get it for you, im curious too.

Although, now we have these huge gashes on our faces, doesn't that count?"

"No, They weren't made intentionally.

...Maybe a tattoo?"

"Oh yeah! That's a good idea! I'll take you to my usual parlor"

"You have tattoos?"

"Yeah, but it's too cold to show you right now"

"Where will you go after this, by the way. Back to the capital?"

"No, I'm going to be too tired in the way there, I'll just stay the night at my hotel"

"Oh... well... y'know..."

"I don't live that far, well, I live in the region center, but that's way closer to here than the capital so, uh..."

"You could, you know, stay over if you want"

"... And do what?"

"Uh, do you like boardgames?"

"I supposed so"

"I really doubt we would have the energy to do anything else more, um, physically taxing"

"That's fair. I'll crash at your place then.

We could go sightseeing after, or just play video games inside"

"Yeah, and cook a nice breakfast, get some groceries maybe"

"Go to a park, get ice cream, play with your cat...

It would be nice, I'd like that.

A life like that"

"Ah, but I'm taking you to my apartment as well. You will meet the real city life, Coast Boy. "

"Oh, you city people with your underground trains and expensive international snacks"

"Haha, just the best for the capital!"

Silence hangs over them

"... I'm still scared"

"Of the future?"

"Yeah.

Will it ever go away?"

"... I don't know, I'll help you though.

I'll get you a planner. You can be like those instagram girls with a very strict planner"

"... Yeah, I guess.

Sorry, my mood is all over the place"

"I don't blame you"

"I mean, I don't even know what am I going to do after this. I'm basically out of a job"

"Well, what are your options?"

"I could go back to crime. Maybe hacking or something with medicaments, that could be fun."

"No, I'll get you"

"I know, but you'll do it lovingly"

"I guess I could go back to do something security related. It's boring, though."

"I heard my local chuck e cheese is hiring security guards"

"I am not applying as a night security guard in a building with animatronics."

"That's oddly specific"

"I still could be your detective assistant, I can use Excel, you know"

"You overestimate how much I'm paid"

"Or I could be literally anything else, but for now, I'll be on vacation"

"Yeah, me too"

"I'm thinking of taking cases of more haunted houses"

"... Are you out of your mind"

"I know how to stop them, and I wouldn't be going blind like these last two. I could even find a way to do it without entering them"

"Please stop risking your life. The detective life is already dangerous enough"

"I'm the house killer, the home terror"

"Sure, sure

Maybe I should be your bodyguard"

"Again, you overestimate how much I can afford"

They drink their drinks in silence

They can't help but feel slight sadness at it all

But time doesn't stop

"Ángel! Ángel look!"

"Huh?"

"The light, the sunrise is starting!"

It is 8:00 am

The sun is coming out

A cold breeze passes through them

The chatter of everyone quiets down

The sun is back

A new day has started

It always will

A collective melancholy passes through all of them

The eternal night is over

What now?

The future is waiting

They are alive

They will live another day

As many as they can

"We'll be alright

Not all of the time, but we will.

I'm going back home, finally

I've lost so much

And gained as well

I'm full of conflicting feelings that my subconscious will have a blast using

I'm scared too

But I'll be brave

Just to see another sunrise like this

With people that I love

We'll be alright

The future is full of chances"

A new day is born

And they watch it together

Hand in hand.

Thanks for playing

#stay for the credits! which is epilogue of the future #they did it. they saw the sunrise #detective beebo

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honshino · 12 days ago

Text

To whom it may concern,

If only you know it takes a lot of courage for me to write this down. And I started crying that I have to lose one of the person I used to talk to, that is you. is easy to say that life is about growth. No one wants to stay at the same level forever. There is an urge for us to develop from the time that we are born. As a life goes on it is easy to recognize that people are trying to help you and guide you in the "right" direction. Consider this for a moment, what was your first dream? Who did you want to become? What did you want to become?

Personally speaking I know that the opinions of others have detoured me from goals that I had set for myself. I do realize that people are trying to prevent me from making mistakes, and I am grateful for that.

Unfortunately, making mistakes is a part of growing up, it is a part of life. I appreciate the help because I know that it comes from a place of love. I will make mistakes despite your efforts to "protect" me and that is okay. I will become wiser and stronger. Thank you for your help, but it is time for me to figure things out for myself. If I need guidance I will come to you or I will seek a since of direction from God. I sincerely appreciate your help, time and guidance. Thank you for your help. Now I need to grow. You have helped me along the way, and I appreciate it.

And there is something I need tell you..

I’M SORRY for starting whatever it is that we have. I’m sorry for all the promises I’ve made, knowing that they’ll be broken soon. I’m sorry for telling you things that made you love me even more. It wasn’t my intention to lead you on because I thought I was sure of you.

Despite that, I still love you for everything. I love you for being patient with me. I love you for understanding my thoughts. I love you for accepting all my flaws. I love you for not judging me because of my past.

But, we were friends before all of these happened. Maybe I fell in love with how we were as friends and must’ve mistaken it for real love. When in reality, we were only becoming really close friends. We were so desperate on finding love that we risked our friendship over it.

Your uncle was right, we’re pen pals, I truly appreciated for letting me know everything about family, I’m impressed how you want to grow, your thoughts, the way you manage things. And Im glad that you said I’m the reason behind why you became a better version of yourself, so do I.

You are so good to me that I felt guilty. Guilty because it felt like I was taking you for granted, like I was taking your love for granted. You deserve so much better than what I gave you, which is not a lot. You deserve a better love. You don’t deserve to be an option, nobody does. I know that was unfair to you, what I did. I can’t find enough reasons to justify my actions because it was wrong. I loved you, but not the way you deserve. I hope you can understand why I did what I did. You were my right choice because I wanted to be responsible and not disappoint the people around me for once. But sometimes, right decisions don’t always make you happy. Decisions can be wrong and absurd in so many levels, but at least you’re happy and I think that’s what’s important.

Nothing worth having comes easy. We are our own biggest enemy. We are stronger than we think! Believe in yourself and nothing will let you down! Our intelligence and sincerity help us to overcome these difficulties. And I think I wish I could be careless sometimes. Nothing in this world happened without a reason. God gives us strength to face and handle it. See how far we will go and how far we’ve come. Hard times, people, situations and the inconveniences, they just made us much stronger and wiser. Thank them for making you who you are today. So do I. We all are trying to be the best version of ourselves. How ironic we keep on hurting ourselves despite of knowing it’s gonna hurt us yet we chase for such thing. In a process of healing from anything, always choose to heal, not to hurt, to forgive not to despise, to persevere not to quit, to smile not to frown, and to love not to hate. At the end of life, what really matter isn’t what we bought, but what we built, not what we got, but what we shared, and not our competence but our character. Never stop dreaming. Dream big, set goals, take action! Or in other words: commit, plan and succeed. Let’s focus on the possibilities for success, not on the potential for failure.

Slowly but surely, we will stop caring about what they’re up to or who they’re with because we’ll be too busy worrying about our goals and our growth. We’ll be so busy living our lives, fulfilling our dreams and reaching new heights that anything that reminds us of them will be a thing in the past.

And..

I’m sorry for the way we fell both in, and out. Maybe we weren’t ready. Maybe we were wrong for each other. Maybe we fell too hard, too soon, too carelessly. Maybe what we had wasn’t real, or real enough. Maybe when we opened ourselves we didn’t think of the possibilities, of the promises we were unintentionally making, of the ways we would inevitably let one another down.

I’m sorry for walking away. Sometimes I still wonder if I made the right choice, if leaving you was the answer to all the present pain, and pain to come. I wish it didn’t have to end the way it did, but sometimes, when I think about how we faded, how we grew apart with time and distance, I wonder if I did make the right choice. And I’m sorry, for both of us. I hope you know I’m not sorry for loving you, but this is me finally letting you go.

I know that you’re facing career struggles in your life right now, I just want you to know that you’re in my prayers and I believe you’ll be able to overcome that. I know you’re strong, stay that way.

I would also like to express my apology and I can honestly say this. You deserve to be happy and you know I’m not stopping you.

Thank you for everything. I’ll always be treasuring our moments together. You left a special place in my heart and no one can ever replace that, you’re a very good friend. I will miss you. But seriously thank you, you are the guy who never cheated and remained faithful ’til the end. Thank you for the efforts and your loyalty as well. Thank you for loving and respecting me and my family and would you mind sending my regards to the rest of the family? If there’s something I did that upset you, I apologize sincerely.

Lastly, no matter how difficult our ending was, I would not mind if we can stay friends if that’s okay with you, of course.

Have a great evening.

Take care always

Sincerely,

Your ♨️🦀♨️ penpal

#writing #love #past #four years ago #the homie in indonesia #this was an interesting thing #I learned a lot from her #I'm glad that I'm reviewing this after all these years.#She's doing well now #I'm glad that she still keeps tabs on me.#she told me hbd earlier this year and she checks on me still #It was wild but i'm glad we've moved forward in our lives #her letters to me

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celestie0 · 5 months ago

Note

BABE IM SO SO SORRY IF I SENT MY ASK ALREADY. I WAS SO EEPY YESTERDAY I CANT REMEMBER IF I DID. THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING JUST IGNORE THIS IF I SENT THIS TWICE 😭🙏🤡

I just realized that one of the reasons why I love kickoff so much is bc the reader reminds me of myself :”)) idk I just felt so seen reading the latest chapter. I started kickoff because I saw that the female lead is a film student and I always wanted to be a filmmaker since I was a kid. My parents were supportive but I didn’t pursue it bc my family isn’t rich enough to send me off to study something that doesn’t guarantee a job right after college (at least where I live). so I decided to take something business related (marketing) bc opening my own cafe is another one of my dreams growing up !!

I guess I just want to thank you for writing kickoff, ellie <33 thank you for giving me a little escape from reality and helping me imagine what my life could have been if I did pursue film !!

Chapter 10 was definitely worth the wait. I could tell how much thought and time you’ve poured into it. I love gojo’s efforts to charm the reader 😭💗 especially when he plucked the thorns off the roses oh my gosh I’m a sucker for small gestures. I know a lot of people pointed this out already but I just love how you portray gojo in this series and I love how he’s so soft and how gentle he is with the reader. I can’t wait for the bbq chapter haha

OH MY GOSH I JUST READ THE AUTHOR’S NOTE AT THE END THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE DEDICATION ELLIE 🥹🥹💞

- 🫶 anon

hi darling!! omg yes i got your ask the second time, i’m so sorry im just a lil behind on my asks :”) but tysm for resending <33

oh my goodnessssssssssssss heart anon 😭🥺💕 you’ve literally made me CRYYY your paragraph about feeling seen through the story and how you had to make a sacrifice with your dreams, ahh my heart, i really wish i could give you the biggest hug my love. i know that must’ve been so hard, and i’m so happy you are pursuing another dream of yours!! OMGG opening a cafe is also a huge dream of mine!! i want to write a story where reader is a premed student but really just wants to open a bakery bc she’s a talented baker xD (aka me core)

i think w kickoff i really want to capture that turbulence of finding yourself in college and young adulthood, and that no matter what happens, whether things turn out the way you had imagined them or not, you’ll be ok in the end!! because i think those are words i really needed to hear when i was in college, and i think would’ve helped me get through a lot. but yes my dear!! i’m so glad you can see yourself in the story and i hope it’s cathartic to you in any way possible :”)

AW thanks bb i’m so glad you enjoyed ch10!! it was such a simple n cute chapter to write. SAME IM SUCH A SLUT FOR SMALL GESTURES idk im much more actions over words when it comes to ppl showing they care, and i think kickoff gojo is definitely one to show he cares through his small gestures. i’m glad you’re looking forward to bbq scene 👀 i am too xD

AWH OF COURSE MY LOVEEE <33 it’s my pleasure, tysm for being so cute n sweet n supportive. you’re an angel!! much love from me 💕💕

- ellie 💕

#heart so full rn #🫶🏼 anon #asks #kickoff #kickoff ch10

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yveni · 9 months ago

Note

YVE opened discord for the first time in daysss and just saw your shrimp!!! SHRIMPTIVITIES 🦐🦐🦐 if you don’t mind me talking a lil in your inbox ehheh:

So the past week or so i was on a (barely) sm break (it IS hard) with not as much attention on focusing on my r/ship w god as i would have liked 🙃🙃 for context i was a lot more dedicated to it until halfway through last year when I had these major exams, like the results i would be needing for uni apps, and I slacked on my routine and haven’t been able to restart it since :((( I made it my New Year’s resolution to get back to it and it worked rlly well the first week! But then i fell sick and kept falling into a spiral of guilt (that I only asked Him for things like good grades or watching over my family ie a connection based on convenience) and hopelessness (cuz i started to feel like I couldnt rlly feel His presence in my life anymore) and now it’s Feb :/

but anyways recently I had this terrible fight w my parents and when I went to my room I tried to meditate a little to connect with Him but I was just too agitated and tired so I went to bed just holding my rosary (not exactly that, but the rosary equivalent in my religion) cuz I was so emotionally drained and I missed Him SO so much, and my dad came in a while later to apologise/smooth things over. this NEVERR happens and maybe it’s a coincidence but in that moment it felt like He was taking care of me again (not that He ever stopped) and I felt so so grateful and also a little terrible for ever thinking that He’d abandon me

JANDKSLLS im so so sorry this turned out so long I didn’t mean to get this emotional HEHEHE so you can ignore it if you’re not interested! I’ve just never rlly met anyone outside of my family who took religion as seriously as I did and I think i got a bit too excited shsnkdkd

anyways how have you been!! Anything fun happen recently? Did you go for the Jan 27 meetup/will you be going for any of the other ones?

-discord anon 👻

Hello !!

First of all, I do not mind getting long messages, it’s actually really touching that you think of me to talk to about stuff 🫶🏽

I think it’s great that you’re making efforts to get closer to God, cause trust me, I have felt exactly the way you described (missing Him so much it hurts and feeling distant/guilty about only asking Him for things), and I believe God responds to that. I’m not sure exactly which religion you have, but I think everyone knows I’m Christian, and lately in my bible studying, I have found so much scripture reaffirming the fact that God does see me, and I’m glad you felt reminded about that too. It’s so awesome how much He really does love us.

I hope everything is good with school and your parents and stuff !!

Oh and I did not go to the January 27 meetup, I wish I did lol but I am broke, and for the same reason I probably will not be going to any future meetups (at least for this year). Everyone had so much fun though and I had so much fun seeing all the pics and vids come in !!!!

#thanks anon !!#I would’ve answered this privately but I can’t do that with anonymous messages sadly #so I will try to bury it with a bunch of random reblogs so hopefully only you see it #also I hope you know my DMs are open #and that I’m not like scary to you or anything cause like I love talking to people

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drazzilder · 3 years ago

Text

A Hellish Encounter

Art credit goes to @stormcallart

By Drazzilder

You're an escaped test subject from a United States testing facility. You have been on the run for years when one day you meet the man that can change everything.

Chapter 1: Regret

The soft sounds on the morning are suddenly interrupted by the harsh noise from the alarm clock. A large hand tiredly aims for the off button which is found after a few attempts. The man attached to that hand wakes up begrudgingly with some groans and cracking joints. He slowly gets up to get ready for the day, heading toward the bathroom. As he enters, he sees his reflection, but he doesn’t hold on it long. He can’t stand the sight of himself. The man in the mirror may be Endeavor, but Enji doesn’t like what he sees. He should be happy on his 40th birthday but he can’t stop his mind from racing. He hurt his family; his first son died from his own power, his youngest was scarred by his mother, and the rest of his children where mentally neglected and abused by Enji himself. Enji’s wife, Rei, couldn’t handle the stress and guilt from everything and ended up in a mental institution soon after hurting Shoto, but by then it was so bad that she took her own life two years ago.

Enji sees all of this when he looks at himself in the mirror. It affects him so much that looking makes him sick to his stomach. He quickly looks away and gets ready for the day.

Coming into the kitchen, Enji sees Shoto, getting ready for school with the help of the nanny Hina. Fuyumi and Natsuo already left for school. Hina is the fourth nanny they have had in 2 years. She has been there the longest because she knows no one else will stand the family and someone needs to be there for the children. Plus, she is the only one who can actually stand up to Endeavor and is not afraid of him. She knows he would never hurt her. When Hina looked at Enji, the look on his face made her stop what she was doing.

“Everything ok Mr. Todoroki?”

“I’m fine…” he answered in a gruff tone, letting her know that he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Im off to school dad, are we still training this afternoon?”

“Good, and yes we always train on Wednesdays!” Sounding more annoyed than anything.

They finish up breakfast and getting their things ready for the day. They soon left the house and went to their final destinations. Enji made it to his agency and meet his secretary.

“Sanji, after I’m done with today’s paperwork, where is my patrol going to be today?”

“Sir, you will be taking the northern end of Tokyo”

“Very well. Thank you Sanji”

“Sir?”

“Hmm?”

“Happy Birthday.”

Sanji is the only one to acknowledge the day let alone tell you happy birthday. She has been working for you for years and knows almost everything that has happened. Enji knows he can trust her with anything so of course she would be the only one to wish him a happy birthday. Enji quickly finished up his paperwork, at least quickly as he could. He squinted and moved the papers so he could read everything clearly. “I’m going to need glasses soon” the man thinks to himself but is to stubborn to actually go get them. After this. is done, he takes a quick lunch and heads out for his afternoon patrol of the city. He does a few heroic acts here and there, but overall the day seems to be quite boring. He is kinda glad because all he wants to do is go home and sulk. That is, until Sanji called.

“Sir, there is a bomb threat at Shibuya crossing!”

“Why are you calling me? Just send some of the sidekicks to handle the bomb.”

“Sir, he is asking for you and the whole crossing is being held hostage. The man has a dirty bomb, please!”

“Alright, I’m on my way!” He says as he rushes off a full speed.

As Endeavor arrives, he assesses the situation, and it’s not ideal. There are hundreds of people on the ground face down, the other hero’s and police and in a standoff with the lone assailant in the center. The man is dressed in tailored suit. Everything is fitted perfectly, not even a single strand of hair is out of place. How he managed to hold everyone hostage quickly becomes clear as he is voicing his demands.

“Ah! Endeavor, I was wondering when the number 2 hero would show up. Be careful what you do, as you can see, I am wearing this fetching bomb vest with matching dead man switch! See how it brings out the green in my eyes. Oh, I almost forgot, the rest of my ensemble is filled with anthrax, one of a kind thread thread makes this silky smooth lining. Plus, shoulder pads are coming back into to style this season, so why not make them special! As you can see, if anyone makes any wrong moves, all of these people will suffer because of you!” The man finishes his speech with an evil laugh. Endeavor knows that he can’t do anything which is just making him hotter as his flames grow brighter around his face. The villain takes one quick look at Endeavor. “Better watch your temper” he quips, “we wouldn’t want to get all hot under the col…..” The villain stops.

Everyone looks almost in shock as the villain has stopped completely. He can still move his eyes and blink but he is completely immobile. No one moves because they are afraid what ever is happening will end just as suddenly as it started. That is until one person gets up and starts walking toward the villain.

You are frail looking, very thin, eyes sunken in, bags under your eyes. Wearing tattered clothes with matching long shaggy hair, representing the years you have been on the street. Your eyes are the most startling part of you as your left eye is completely white with no sign of a pupil and the other is black with red glowing iris. You look at Endeavor and just say “Stand back” in a weak voice. You are so tired but you can’t just sit back and let people get hurt. As you walk closer to the villain, his eyes show more and more fear. He now knows it is you holding him still. Once your next to him, you place a hand on the bomb vest and give it all your attention. As this is happening, the other heroes are yelling their concerns for your safety. “Sir, it’s not safe” “You need to step back” “Sir are you alright?!” All of these go over your head as you are concentrating on the task at hand: saving these people.

Suddenly, the bomb vest starts to glow a little, just enough for Endeavor and the other heroes to notice. A flash of light and then darkness again as everyone notices the bomb is gone. Just as fast as the bomb disappeared, a large explosion happened overhead. “Was that the bomb?” “Did he teleport it away?” “What happened?” Hero’s rush to the villain and detain him. Endeavor approaches you because in his gut he knows something is wrong.

“How can this man have a teleportation and a body controlling quirk?” He thought as he gets next to you. Suddenly, you cough up some blood and collapse from the effort you put out. Everything was too much for you in the state you were in. Your body could not give anything more. Endeavor catches you and he looks right at you as you try to reach his face while barely being able to say “Help me…” as you pass out completely.

Next Chapter

#endeavor x male reader #endeavor mha #mha enji #enji x y/n #endeavor stan #endeavor x reader #endeavor fluff #enji todoroki #enji x reader #endeavor #enji x you #bnha endeavor #todoroki enji #A Hellish Encounter

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noonmutter · 3 years ago

Text

Introductions

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 12: Ball/Gravestone

"It's gonna be a quiet meetin'. They're not...th' most talkative people, these days."

"No, I know, love, of course. I absolutely still want to do this. You're so brave for this and I'm so proud of you."

Leon couldn't hold in a chuckle at that. Valarin's open, whole-hearted support of him for what was, admittedly, a trip that Leon had made dozens of times by now was all but impossible to ignore. The reassurance wasn’t necessary, but he wasn’t about to ruin Val’s fun. He simply set a hand on his wee love's shoulder to momentarily silence him, and bent to kiss his forehead.

"Thank you, love. It's okay. I'm not gonna collapse, it's just...a li'l tense, sometimes. Bringin' somebody new..." He let himself trail off as he inspected the kit they'd brought with them. Valarin had brought the supplies for their lunch, and he'd brought a bag of gardening tools, along with a couple bouquets of marigolds at Val's insistence. Asking about the marigolds had opened up the floodgates, not that he minded; listening to Valarin get himself going about something he was passionate about was one of Leon’s favorite things.

"The marigolds are traditionally very important! You see, the land of the living can be confusing and difficult to navigate for spirits. We try to help them by providing strong sensory things to guide them. The marigolds have a strong smell, but I think their color is quite strong too! And the candles are a little lighthouse..."

The flowers had been a bit of a trick to avoid crushing once they'd left the road that would've led them across the border into Stranglethorn, but they'd managed. He still wasn't sure if mum and dad would actually like the marigolds, but he understood the importance of it being this specific kind of flower, now. It was both like and unlike the little ceremonies the Gilnean was familiar with.

"This is such a lovely area, too. I’m honestly so excited to see where your parents rest. I’ve not really seen many human gravesites. I’m interested to see how similar they are. I’d like to learn about Gilnean customs regarding it. I know that the Day of the Dead is more widespread now, so I’m sure your parents will enjoy the offerings all the same. And--Hey, are you doing okay? You’ve been a little quiet."

Leon paused, then gave a short shake of his head. "Just tryna make sure we don't get lost, hey?" It was a lame excuse for letting his mind wander, but Val let it pass, since they were tromping through an awful lot of dense foliage. Valarin was aware there was a moonwell not all that far from where they wandered, and though there was a ceasefire, it was still Alliance territory and he was still visibly not a night elf. The tension wasn't really there like it'd been during their trip to Aerie Peak, though; they were alone and nowhere near a proper settlement.

He almost asked another question before Leon stopped, pointed at a small cluster of bright purple blooms hugging the forest floor, and said, "We're 'ere." It was hard not to get excited all over again, but he wanted to be respectful of Leon's feelings, so he kept himself from squeaking and simply gave Leon his best 'I'm here for you' smile. Leon answered it with another kiss on his forehead. Val liked those kisses, even if they were usually Leon filling in a silence when he couldn't figure out what to say.

He watched Leon pull a ton of vines and push a ton of branches aside like a very sturdy set of curtains, and after a moment, rushed to assist. Together, they opened up a relatively worn footpath to a small clearing. Val couldn't help but gasp softly at the sight; it seemed like every square inch of the ground was covered in lilacs! Little purple flowers were everywhere, and the scent was almost overwhelming. Butterflies fluttered from blossom to blossom in every direction, and small clouds of them seemed to erupt every time he or Leon took a step. He found himself tiptoeing to try and avoid crushing anything almost immediately.

"Oh, Light, it's absolutely beautiful, Leon. You did this?" The thought was enough to bring tears to his eyes, but he tried not to let it, at least not yet. He knew he'd do plenty of crying before the day was out and he'd really rather not start again so soon. It was a little embarrassing, even if Leon said it wasn't. Just focus on not snagging your pants on anything, Valarin…

"Well, I mean, th' flowers did it on their own, mostly... flowers do tha'..." Leon looked sheepish as he deflected praise, "All I did was plant a couple an' leave 'em be. Lilacs 're 'ardy, easy thin's. Part o' why mum liked 'em so much." The Gilnean made his way carefully but quickly through the dense growth, well used to the path he took and not worrying overmuch about whether he was stomping flowers or butterflies; the flowers were going to be cut back anyway, and the butterflies were quicker than he was. Reaching the apparent edge of the clearing, Leon bent to set his hand on a particularly tall lilac bush, then abruptly tore away a few branches to reveal the carved wooden grave marker underneath it.

It was not a professional job, this marker, but it had definitely been a work of diligence and a high degree of effort. It was sanded down to a nearly glasslike smoothness, and it would probably shine like it once it was cleaned up. The uneven top edge of it suggested it had originally been a chunk of driftwood, but it’d been stained so dark that it was hard to be sure. Valarin was privately glad he’d gotten better at reading Common lettering; hand-carved stuff like this was a little tricky. “Bettany Marie Ambroce” caught a bit of light and practically glowed.

“Right. ‘Ere we are, then.”

“Oh, Leon,” Valarin said, “This is so lovely. This is your mother?” He knelt down beside the wood and brushed his fingertips over the lettering. “Hello, Missus Ambroce. I’m happy to meet you.”

“Yeah.” Leon didn’t really know how else to answer, but felt like that was woefully insufficient. “This’s mum.” Okay that was almost less helpful. He brushed his fingers along the lettering in much the same way Valarin had, mulling over a few things before he settled on a simple, “...You r’member Val’rin, right? I’ve talked about ‘im b’fore…” He risked a glance at his little love, offering a weak smile. “Only th’ good stuff, though. Promise.”

“It better have been!” Val flashed a playful grin and tossed his hair. “I am a perfect angel, after all.”

Chuckling, Leon set down the bag of tools and took out a pair of hedge trimmers, offering them to Valarin. “I’ll take care o’ th’ bigger messes, you clear out th’ stuff all over th’ ground, okay?”

“Wait, are we doing this entire clearing?”

“Course. Otherwise th’ lilacs’ll grow way too far an’ get completely outta control. It’s already bad enough cuz I waited longer’n I should’ve, I norm’ly come by ev’ry month or so.”

Valarin looked out across the small expanse of purple with a tiny bit less wonderment than he had the first time. This was a bit more work than he’d realized, but, he had to admit to himself, Leon had warned him. And he was bound and determined to help, regardless, so! Nothing for it but to roll up his sleeves and get to work. Leon had to restrain himself from grinning at the look of almost militant determination that Val got before he started clipping away.

“Cheer up, at least y’ don’t ‘ave t’ make it look pretty, too, hey?” He waggled his own pair of much smaller clippers, and gestured toward the high-piled bushes covering the pair of markers. “I’ll prune these down an’ then we’ll both tackle th’ rest of ‘em. It only takes about an hour if there’s two of us.”

“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“‘Ow d’you mean?”

“Well I’m going to end up killing most of these by cutting them back all…all willy-nilly, aren’t I?”

“Sure, but tha’s kinna th’ point. They can’t all keep growin’ or they’ll overtake more’n th’ forest kin afford, see? S’why I come back an’ clean it up at all. Can’t just plant whatever, wherever, or it throws th’ ‘ole balance outta whack. I’d be a worse druid than I already am if I just planted a bush an’ left it.”

“You are not a bad druid!”

Laughing, Leon pruned away, and Valarin attacked the rest of the lilacs with gusto.

Once they were roughly halfway through the clearing as a whole, Leon mercifully called for a break. Valarin was not at all accustomed to Leon in work mode, at least not like this; he knew the man could get lost in his leatherwork for hours, but that wasn’t quite so physically demanding as this. It was impressive, if a bit exhausting to keep up with.

They both sat down with a satisfied sigh, and Leon stretched his legs in the much more visible grass by the cleaned-up gravestones. Once properly polished, the lettering on both gleamed like it had been painted with gold:

Bettany Marie Ambroce Beloved wife and mother I’ll take it from here

Graeme Iain Ambroce Beloved husband and father I’ve got this

“Dad would’ve liked you, y’know.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Anybody ‘o kin keep up with an Ambroce’s bullshit is worth keepin’ an eye on, somethin’ like that.” Leon chuckled with a subdued smile, thinking back on various times when he’d heard that. Naturally, Graeme had been talking about his own wife, but still. It had merit. “‘Especially th’ wee ones.’ Mum was about yer ‘eight, I think.”

Valarin’s ears went back just a little. “I’m not that wee.” After a moment, though, he let himself chuckle, too. “Although I suppose it’s still a compliment. You said he was a mountain, anyway.”

That made Leon laugh, and he threw his arms out wide. “Oh yeah, an absolute fuckin’ behemoth, was dad. ‘E wrestled with steer at th’ yearly fairs, sometimes, an’...”

As much as Leon enjoyed listening to Valarin give impromptu dissertations, Valarin loved listening to Leon tell stories of his family and his home. Knowing that he’d never get to see either of them the way his boyfriend did, he clung to every word to try his best to imagine it, and let the farmboy ramble as long as he was willing to. He only dared to interrupt long enough to break out their picnic, which thankfully didn’t stop the flood at all.

Once they’d eaten and Leon had run out of tales to tell--some of which Valarin was sure had to be at least exaggerated, if not totally made up, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out which ones--they’d gotten back to work. It was almost agony to start over again, since they’d had enough time for their hands to start hurting. That only seemed to spur them to get done quicker so that they were able to put the tools away after what felt like no time at all.

While Leon was raking the detritus into a corner of the clearing, Valarin set to work by the markers.

First, Valarin set up a small collapsible bed tray in front of the markers themselves, and covered it with a white cloth. He set out a few candles and arranged the marigolds all around what would become their ofrenda. Upon the tray he left portions of the favored foods they had brought; raspberry tarts, beef pasties, fried taters, all sorts of things. Though they had no pictures of the deceased--Leon couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the only image he had of his entire family--it was the thought that counted for this.

Obviously, Leon wanted to help, but he also didn’t want to do things wrong (despite Valarin’s many and constant reminders that there was no wrong way to arrange an ofrenda), so he hung back until it was almost finished. At Valarin’s urging, Leon took up a long match, and they each lit a candle at the same time, one for each parent. Finally, a small bundle of marigold petals was pressed into Leon’s hands, and he awkwardly scattered them in a rough line from the ofrenda to the graves themselves. Valarin had already made one out of the clearing itself, and with Leon’s contribution, there was a complete path.

When he returned to Val’s side, Val immediately curled both arms around his waist and tugged him down till they were both seated in the grass before the ofrenda. There, Val could finally get the cuddles he so cherished. Leon smiled softly and dragged the insistent thing into his lap, the better to hug him close and rest his chin on top of Val’s head.

“So… what ‘appens now?”

“Now, you tell me more stories about them, and cuddle me, and I’ll tell you stories about mine, and cuddle you.”

“All night?”

“All night.”

“I think I kin do tha’.”

Though they couldn’t leave everything behind, the next morning, a pair of marigold-and-lilac wreaths hung from the wooden gravestones.

( @daily-writing-challenge @valarin-sunstorm )

#my writing #leon #valarin #valeon #mum and dad #collab #writing valarin in full Explain Mode is HARD so the mun helped :D #dwc

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years ago

Note

OK I GOT 5 HOURS OF SLEEP LAST NIGHT WHICH IS PRETTY OK IG (I did stay up to read the fic-) BOTH MY TESTS WENT LIKE SHIT, I HAD AN ANXIETY ATTACK IN PROGRAMMING CLASS BECAUSE BY TEACHER IS A LITTLE SHIT WHO KEPT ON YELLING AT ME WHEN I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND SOMETHING AND I SPENT LUNCH ALONE BUT AT LEAST NOW IM ALONE WITH MY LAPTOP SO YAYAYAYYA

first of all, this chapter right here is my comfort chapter from now on. i said what i said. I will be rereading it again and again just because i can. it was PERFECTION

here's me going crazy at 2 am yesterday.

MAGNUS' CHAPTER

LET'S GO LET'S GO LET'S GO

AHHHHHHH IT'S THEIR ANNIVERSARY

SCREAM

alec shaved his beard because it made him look older

RAFAEL WAS SO UPSET AFTER THE MEXICO ATTACK BECAUSE OF ANJALI RIGHT??

magnus and alec are the oblivious parents istg

“Are you decent?” Max yelled. “I don’t want to be traumatized again.”

“Hey! We agreed not to talk about that!” Alec yelled back.

Im not even surprised at this point

“Happy anniversary, bapa!” Rafael kissed him on the cheek and handed him the flowers.

“Where are my flowers?” Alec asked.

Rafael plucked a rose from the bouquet and threw it at Alec. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, son,” Alec mumbled.

IM WHEEZING

DAVID BAKES

“David made it,” Max said shyly. "

Oh,” Alec replied and then shrugged. “Well, the icing could be a little sweeter I think.”

Ever since Max started dating, Alec had become incredibly protective. Alec liked David of course – it was impossible to find someone who didn’t. But that didn’t mean Alec approved.

And it didn’t help that the blond boy was absolutely terrified of Alec.

ALEC STOP TEASING HIM

THE BOY IS ALREADY SCARED

“I don’t know,” Alec analysed the card. “David used too much glitter.”

“Since when do you have a problem with excessive glitter?” Max demanded.

ALEC

“I didn’t use him!” Max huffed. “He was thoroughly compensated for his efforts!”

“Compensated how?” Alec asked.

“Uh,” Max said. “With donuts.”

when i saw donuts i immediately thought of rose and luisa from jtv

iykyk

but should i continue the show? i got tired of jane continuously embarrasing herself

“You expect us to follow rules?” Alec asked in surprise. “In our own home? On our anniversary?”

The warlock boy grinned wickedly before leaning close to Alec.

“You better do it, or I will tell everyone about your secret,” Max whispered.

Alec blinked at that.

the secret...

I DONT LIKE HOW MANY THINGS POPPED INTO MY HEAD

is highschool musical that bad? i havent watched it. should i?

what if i cried

i just wanna hug alec??? but i cant say it'll be ok because it wont

“Is that why you are not attending?” Magnus grinned at his friend. “Or is it because you are terrified of Georgia?”

“That child is the reincarnation of Christopher Lightwood!” Ragnor complained. “I heard she made explosives out of demon ichor! Who makes explosions out of demon ichor?”

RAGNOR IS PROBABLY GETTING FLASHBACKS

THESE STUPID FUCKING BITCHES

how tf do you think we have survived huh??

medicine that's how

vaccines, anti biotics and what not

stop being close-minded and fucking do it

ok i know the risk is great

BUT OTHERWISE THEY ALL DIE

it was different for warlocks. The Shadow World was their universe. The nephilim kept it safe. At one point in their lives, they had learned to coexist with them, out of necessity and out of obligation.

And now here they were – working together in the name of friendship and love.

how things change...

what

say what

the causes are what

ok let's not jump to conclusions

im fucking crying wtf

alec doesnt deserve this shit

all he's done is make the world a better place

hes worked so hard on this

RAZIEL CAN GO FUCK HIMSELF

what am i supposed to say to my parents if one of them comes to check on me and im sitting here crying at 2 am

He didn’t want to believe in a reality that would punish Alec. Alec who only wanted to do what is good and right.

Alec was who was losing his hope and strength every passing day. Alec who was struggling. Alec who was turning to desperate measures to cope with all the stress.

please alec

no please

THE ANGELS ARE BITCHES

Because if Magnus found out Raziel was the one causing all this pain for Alec, he would march up to heaven and set the bastard on fire himself.

AND I'LL GO WITH HIM

KNEW THE SPY WAS LIVVY

AWW RAGNOR LIKES SELENA THATS SO SWEET

blue and gold

STOP IT IM CRYING AGAIN

The shadowhunter was a good influence on him. Magnus hoped Alec would see it sooner rather than later.

HUH

HUHU

HUH

omg

GIGI GETTING A SIBLING

“Max isn’t allowed to do a lot of things,” Magnus chuckled. “But he does them anyway.”

thats my boi

GASP

]THE NECKLACE

rafael is growing into the consul voice

they grow up so fast

nope nope he's still the little 5 year old

voice cracking what do you mean he's 20

im glad hes happy with mila. or is he...?

Magnus had deduced as much. Alec lived in his beautifully oblivious world. But Magnus noticed.

He noticed the hickeys. He noticed the late-night visits. He noticed the tense phone calls.

well thank god there's at least one non-oblivious person (alec i love you so much but you are very very oblivious)

“What’s stopping you then?” Magnus asked.

"2554 miles,” Rafael chuckled sadly.

me with all my online friends

probably more miles

Magnus tried to do the math but promptly gave up.

But Alec did lie though. Magnus pushed the thought away.

NOT NOW

LET ME LIVE IN PEACEFUL OBLIVION

HUSH

“Except melt it?” Rafael chuckled.

“Yes,” Magnus chuckled back. “As you can see, the bar is extremely low in the Lightwood family.”

AHHIUCCDSKUHDCV

i have no clue what the words describing the outfit are

time to google

OK PRETTY

Fifteen years. Fifteen years of loving and Alec still made his heart stutter.

dont do this to me right now I WILL CRY

“What the hell?” Max exclaimed. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s my anniversary,” Alec chuckled.

Max-

Fifteen years. Fifteen years and Magnus still took Alec’s breath away.

HJCSDHJBJDHSGCDYGJVVC JHVDFYMJ

it's not funny MY EYES ARE WATERING

“Bapak is a good looking one in the family,” Rafael pointed out. “You are the chaotic one and I am the smart one.”

“What am I then?” Alec asked dryly. “A sack of potatoes?”

“You’re the sexy one,” Magnus grinned. “A sexy sack of potatoes.”

yes.

Alec grinned back and leaned forward. Magnus put his hands around Alec’s neck and kissed him. He kissed Alec with all the love he had inside his heart.

Just like the first time. Just like the hundredth time. Just like the thousandth time.

Because with Alec, every kiss mattered. Every single one.

muffled sob

“Stop making out, oh my god!” Max groaned.

Magnus sensed a pillow coming their way but Rafael caught it before it hit them.

“Max, stop!” Rafael scolded. “You will wrinkle dad’s suit and ruin bapak’s hair! I spent hours ironing both!”

why is max me when i see people display affection in front of me

ALSO RAFAEL HKUIUIDCSKIHUDFVHJDFVHU

“They are here,” Rafael said. “You two better look exactly the way you did when I left with Max or I will raise hell.”

IM SCREAMING

Selena was wearing a blue crop top with the words “MIND YOUR OWN UTEREUS” written in gold.

i need that top

DAVID'S SHIRT IS THE COLOR OF MAX'S MAGIC

AHH ISABELLE DOESNT KNOW SHE'S PREGNANT YET

The argument of “who gave the best gift” had started when Jace and Izzy had gotten drunk on vodka. It didn’t help that Alec had gotten drunk as well. All three Lightwood siblings had then proceeded to have an argument about who had the best spouse. The whole night had been drunken chaos. Magnus, Clary and Simon had let them have it since the Lightwood siblings had a tendency to carry the world on their shoulders even when nobody asked them. They rarely ever let loose ever since their worlds had plunged into sickness and demon attacks. Especially Alec. So, Magnus had let his husband be that 18-year-old boy again. The boy who got drunk and fought with his siblings and sang songs about Magnus’ pretty eyes.

OH MY GOD THE CHAOS

Georgia considered that. “I’m not allowed to melt it, right?”

“No,” they all replied in chorus.

LET GIGI MELT IT

SELENA IM SO PROUD OF YOU

“Dad,” Max said. “Can you keep a picture of me wearing this necklace in your office?”

“Why?” Rafael asked.

“I think it will piss off the boomers,” Max giggled.

“Nice!” Lexi grinned. “A downworlder wearing a shadowhunter heirloom? They will lose their heads. Uncle Alec, you must do it.”

“I will do you one better. I will hang a tapestry,” Alec chuckled.

YASSS I CANT WAIT FOR THE SHADOWHUNTERS TO BE PISSED

AWW THEY DIDNT KNOW THE NECKLACE USED TO BELONG TO MAGNUS

he actually gave to camille first-

Why couldn’t this boy just cause chaos during his travel year like the rest of them? Why did he actually study and do his research as recommended?

why would you NOT study and research during your travel year????

oh shit

well well well

david bby stfu

i love you but pls stop speaking for all our sakes

“Holy shit,” Max said. “It is expensive then!”

“Don’t pawn the ruby!” Rafael warned.

MAX NO-

OH THE STONE COMES FROM EDOM

oh no

pls dont fight

oh so i was wrong about magus confronting him from that snippet

all you need to know is im sobbing right now and grammarly is the only thing making this coherent

dont mind me just

NO I FORGOT ABOUT MAX AND DAVID

GET BACK IN THE ROOM YOU IDIOTS

don't do this to me at 3 am

OK THE DILF PART

thank you for adding light into my life again

(me while editing this: today really isn't my day huh? i just slipped in rainwater outside my balcony because I heard rain and ran there. now my knee and back hurt and I think I sprained (?) my toe-

ANYWAY

wait im gonna go check out the rain and then continue editing this

ok i got bored of the rain)

that made me laugh through my tears

“Objectively good looking?” Jace snorted. “Excuse you, but my parabatai is smoking hot! He is a freaking prize, okay? If we had a magazine for hot shadowhunters, you would be on the cover page. Every single issue.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Alec interrupted. “Magnus, are you happy? Now all my friends have told me I am pretty.”

“I said smoking hot,” Jace corrected.

“We are not being biased,” Clary pointed out. “It is the general consensus, Alec.”

“It’s true,” Lexi said. “So many people have asked me for your number, Uncle Alec. And I would have given it to them if I wasn’t worried about being turned into a marshmallow.”

LEXI DUHDUGHUDFCUHKVDFUIKFDU

“Dad, I don’t know why you are so worried,” Max said in a bored tone. “You’re a told DILF.”

David choked on his champagne and Jace patted him on the back.

“What the hell is a DILF?” Alec demanded.

“Oh, I know this one!” Jace said excitedly. “It means Dashing and Irresistible Looking Father. Max is right, you are a total DILF.”

“Mr. Herondale-” David raised a hand.

“I heard one of the shadowhunters in their travel year calling me a DILF too,” Jace said proudly.

THAT IS NOT WHAT DILF MEANS OH MY GOD

“It’s not a rumour,” Selena spoke up and passed her phone. “There is a group chat at Scholomance just to thirst after you.”

add me to it

ALL THE COMMENTS I CANT BREATHE

“Alec Lightwood can run me over with a Maserati and I would thank him.”

“Give me that,” Izzy grabbed the phone and started giggling. “Petition for Consul Alec Lightwood-Bane to stab me with his mortal sword.”

“Isabelle!” Alec hissed, cheeks flaming. “Stop it!”

“I want one!” Jace grabbed the phone now. “By the Angel!”

“Read it!” the kids yelled in chorus.

“I would gladly let Consul Lightwood-Bane inspect my mortal instruments,” Jace chuckled and threw the phone at David.

David shook his head vehemently and threw it at Max.

“My body is just a hole for Alec Lightwood,” Max read out loud and started laughing so hard that he fell off his chair.

Lexi grabbed the phone and giggled. “I want the Consul to strip off my runes among other things.”

She passed the phone to Gigi, who looked at the phone and look at Alec.

“Uncle Alec,” the girl said. “This person wants you to crush them with your massive archer arms.”

“Give me that,” Rafael grabbed it now. “Aw, this one is a classic, dad. Alec Lightwood turned me gay.”

He threw the phone at Simon, who stared the screen and looked up. “Uh, I don’t think I can read this one out loud in front of the kids.

“Is this the one about the basement?” Selena chuckled and Simon nodded.

WHAT'S THE BASEMENT ONe

TELL ME

AWW GIGI AND LEXI PUTTING MAKEUP ON DAVID AND MAX RECORDING IT

google translator time

oooo Rafael's gonna talk with Mila

Magnus you're such a good father

seriously

“Sometimes things are just sad. So, you need to let yourself be sad.”

YES

SAY IT LOUDER

THEY ARE UNDER THE BED

AHHH MAX AND DAVID

DAVID CALLED HIM MY ANGEL IN FRENCH

Alec and Magnus hiding under the bed and spying on them is just-

Jace had tried to give Max the shovel talk and had gotten a little too emotional.

of course, he did smh I love him so much

“David doesn’t need a shovel talk,” Alec smiled. “He knows what would happen to him if he hurts my son.”

David gulped. “You will throw me into the silent city?”

“I will ask me husband to portal you to hell,” Alec said – Consul Voice. “We have relatives there.”

the beloved relatives yes

“Goodnight,” Jace gave them a salute. “Have fun inspecting Magnus’ mortal instruments.”

JACE

OH SO THE QUESTION WAS ABOUT SMOKING

damn it

oh my god guys he said he'll stop smoking

just lemme have this moment

my boy's lungs will be intact

HIS LUNGS WILL BE OK

“I can’t wait to see all the messages on the chat after that,” Magnus giggled.

Alec looked up. “I’m more than a tall glass of water, Magnus!”

SCREAMING

In his dream, he saw them again. But they weren’t smiling this time.

what

wait

THE PROPHETIC DREAMS

nope nope nope

Nah I don't know what you're talking about

haha

damn, I think I really hurt my back...

OK BUT THE IMMORTALITY ANGST???? WAS SO SO GOOD???? I know it makes me cry but is it bad that I'm always so excited for angst written by you because of HOW GOOD it is????

"When I die I will love you from my grave" I NEED THIS ON MY FOREHEAD OH MY GOD I LOVE THESE TWO SO SO MUCH

alright I need to get something for my back and my knee (I'm home alone so this will be fun)

OK, I THINK THE NEXT CHP WILL BE ANJALI'S POV I JUST FEEL IT!!! I miss my girl so much I hope she's doing ok. Jaime too...

I'm rereading all of these chapters after chapter 10 because why not. Bye!!

OKAY I AM GLAD YOU LIKED IT BUT I AM ALSO DEEPLY WORRIED ABOUT YOUR HEALTH.

I hope your knee and back feels better soon!

also fuck that teacher yelling something doesn't make people understand it any better ugh dumb piece of shit anyway screw that person.

I hope you get some good rest and recovery from this rollercoaster of a day.

Take care!

#lbaf

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cwnahyoung · 3 years ago

Photo

one of the FOURTH TIER ROYAL candidates, KWAK AHYOUNG: a 22 YEAR OLD born on SEPTEMBER 28TH, 1998. some may know them already but with a face like that, it’s hard not to admit they look a little like JO HASEUL. curious to know more? apparently, these are words they live by: “she’s like a rose that’s forever in bloom.” intriguing, aren’t they? only time will tell if they’re suited for the throne or not.

( PROFILE. ABOUT. CONNECTIONS. )

HELLO! what a delight it is to be here! i made sure to submit my app right before acceptance time and i’m so glad i made it before the clock and was able to get accepted with everyone else! as i like to believe, last is best! LOL IM JOKING

anyways, i’m clem (they/them, est, 20) and this is my baby ahyoung, a clover royal who refuses to go any tier higher (but she probably will because i want to work hard) because she wants to be a musician more than she wants to be a princess. think of her personality as a mix of ayaka kamisato, eleanor shellstrop, and a mix of both annaliese and erica from the princess and the pauper (i’ll give u bonus points if you recognize the references on her blog).

i’ll list a tl;dr on who she is under the cut!! in the meantime, if you would like to plot, leave a like and i’ll head my way over to your ims! i am also reachable on twitter (@/intro_crown) and discord (thomalovr#7170) if you prefer going over there for plots!

biography!

born into a family with a noble mother and a father who used to be a musician. has given up his musician dreams to follow his life into this life of nobility. also has a little sister who comes much later down the line!

as a young kid, never wanted to be a princess. but her mom’s side of the family expect her to be a princess, so in turn her mother basically kept on trying to force her into that lifestyle.

made a promise with her dad that when she gets older, they’ll travel the world as musicians. as a result of that promise, dad tried his best to stall mom from forcing ahyoung into a life of royalty so that he wouldn’t disappoint her.

(TW DEATH) dad ended up dying because ahyoung and him got in a car accident! she survived, but was super distraught that he didn’t. (END TW)

after the funeral service, ahyoung’s mom basically looked at her daughter and said “ok well since your dad is dead, you have to be a princess now. make it up to him because he went through so much effort to try and convince me to not make you one.”

and has been in the palace for about a few months to a year already. still wishes she was a musician.

personality!

(TW: SLIGHT ABUSE, NEGLECT) hates her mom has mommy issues. her mom seems to only see her as a way to get closer to the queen. basically doesn’t see her as a daughter besides that.

when ahri (her little sister) came into the picture, that’s when mom decided to switch up her behavior but solely for ahri. ahyoung still is treated like shit and forced to be a princess. (END TW)

besides the fact that she fully intends to not be a princess, she is also the least princess-like person she knows. she’s clumsy, aggressive, loud, sloppy, and kind of messy. she also has a temper! i’d like to imagine she also snorts when she laughs. she’s basically “not like the other girls”. a bit of a fixer upper, if you will.

despite that, she’s smart!! most of the time

loves music! knows how to play the piano, which gives her points for elegancy. she also keeps a guitar pick around her neck and she refuses to remove it no matter what, as it is the one thing that keeps her dad with her.

she will cry over her dad BUT SHE WILL NOT SHOW IT.

loves sweets! if you give her any desserts, she will love you

despite being hot-tempered and easy to rile up, she is actually very sweet and friendly! the type to invite you to sit with her at lunch or make you a friendship bracelet (with your permission, of course)

wants to travel the WORLDDD she wants to travel to jeju island for the fun of it.

there’s probably more, but i’ll add them along the way.

#cwintro #( OUT OF CRUMPETS. )

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consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically. Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling?

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.”

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone.

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him.

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity.

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind.

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.” Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.”

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now.

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already.

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding.

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices.

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach.

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father.

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?”

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information.

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.”

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns.

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian.

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down.

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone.

Damian is lonely.

Patrol is a necessary evil.

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has.

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops.

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions.

The akuma frowns, tenses.

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity.

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses.

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?”

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.”

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake.

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now?

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham.

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off.

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills.

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it.

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now.

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease.

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something?

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone.

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?”

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again?

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment.

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin.

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds.

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?”

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.”

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him.

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help.

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to.

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding.

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good.

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time. “Who else knows? Do you?”

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?”

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?”

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict.

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends.

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayso #barbara gordon #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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