#dont mind my partial face reveal in the corner

[codexu]

Hey guys, my pride flag arrived, what do Y'all think?

[todorokis-girl]

I Never Knew You Were Alive - Soulmate AU (V)

Chapter V: Last minute encounter

No actual dabi in this one

Chapter I: So it starts Chapter II: A late arrival Chapter III: belive of be doomed Chapter IV: What are we doing? Chapter V: Last minute encounter Chapter VI: Deciding to fall in love with you

masterlist

Next Chapter

taglist: @staygoldsquatchling02 , @alien-00715-blog

Note: I was gonna post this next week BUT I have some presentations and assignments to turn in, and I don't know if I could keep track of this. Plus I already started chapter VII (I have chapter VI done and ready to post later today, this was supposed to be chapter 1 but I wanted to add drama before this), so that will probably my focus next week.

The day had started like any other. The city bustled with life, the streets filled with people going about their routines. She had been on her way to meet Keigo, walking through a busy shopping district. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the city. As she passed by a familiar convenience store, she decided to stop in and grab a snack, hoping to alleviate the stress of the day with a small treat.

Inside the store, the hum of the refrigeration units and the soft chime of the entrance bell created a familiar ambiance. She wandered down the aisles, her mind drifting as she absentmindedly picked up a packet of chips. Her thoughts were a mix of mundane worries and lingering memories of a past. The Todoroki family, Touya’s memory, the constant ache of his loss—they were always there, just beneath the surface.

As she reached the checkout counter, a sudden chill ran down her spine. She felt a presence, something or someone that made her skin prickle with a strange sense of déjà vu. Turning slowly, she saw a figure standing at the end of the aisle, partially hidden in the shadows. His posture was familiar, but it wasn’t until he stepped into the light that recognition slammed into her like a physical blow.

The figure turned, revealing the face she had once known so well. His eyes, deep turquoise and filled with a mixture of surprise and anger, locked onto hers. This wasn't the first time they had seen each other. Just a couple of days ago, she had been pressed between him and a wall in an alley; but his eyes seemed wilder than usual, angrier, and she had been feeling tension, irritation, and anger all morning. She didn't understand what had happened, but she did know one thing right now…

Run.

She dropped her bags immediately and sprinted out of the convenience store, anxiously looking around for a place to run to without civilians. It seemed impossible—she was in the middle of a big city. Next idea.

Heroes. She needed to get as many people out of the vicinity as possible. She couldn't do that right now, and she could feel the temperature behind her rise. She had to find help, find heroes who could evacuate the area. The heat was intensifying, and panic clawed at her chest as she darted through the crowded street.

"You're a liar" His voice, raw with betrayal and rage, echoed in her ears. His deep turquoise eyes bore so deeply into hers that the pressure on her chest, in her heart, seemed to increase exponentially.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she rounded a corner, her mind racing. She needed to find a hero, anyone who could help mitigate the impending disaster. The familiar signs of the shopping district blurred as she focused on putting as much distance as possible between her and the man she had once known.

She knew there was no time to dwell on the past. She had to keep moving, keep running, and find a way to protect the people around her. She spotted one of the local heroes and stopped in from of him, hopping she was far enough for Tou... Dabi as she could. 

"Help, I need help clearing the area as much as posible" The hero looked her over with a corked brow "and I should listen to you why?"

"Damn it I dont have to for this" her breathing picked up and she started shaking "Thermifrost with Endeavors agency, League of villains member Dabi is chasing me, I can take him; but I can't deal with him and getting people out" her eyes settled on angry as she looked at the hero over "get the people out"

She started to feel the temperature rise behind her again, and her own feeling of fear and his feeling of anger increased with every second, making it cold would help her with him, and maybe saving one or two people, but she couldn’t stop him from doing any damage. 

“Yes ma’am!” She nooded and watched him run off screaing at people to move away, and left it up to him to get the help you needed 

She turned around and faced him for the first time since she started to run “I don’t know where this is coming from, or what I did to get you so angry” She was anxious, she wanted to avoid this, but as he walked up to her, slowly, with his arm slowly growin fire, she braced herself for a fight she didn’t want to have. 

"You chose them over me!" Deep turquoise eye bore so deeply into mine, the pressure on my chest, in my heart, seemed to increase.

"I didn't chose anyone over you Touya", anger, misplaced anger, seeped out of my word "I didn't even know you were alive!" A sob escaped me, which made the current situation so much more real. it had been years.. years of pain, thinking he was dead. How dare he? How dare he imply I chose anything in this situation, I chose the option that would have kept me closer to him. When he was dead.

"We have marks with each others names, we feel what the other feels", he took exasperated steps towards me getting closer and more menacing as he got closer, the feeling of safety slowly washing off me, would he hurt me? would he killme? "You're gonna look at me in the eye, and tell me, you didn't know I was alive?"

The question was one that burned inside me, ever since I found out he was alive, and it killed me knowing that he wasn't only alive, but with the villains, it drove me crazy and I could barely sleep. I wondered during the years why occasionally I would feel things that were simply not my own; but how was I to know? He was dead, it was a fact, he died in his fire!, so young, faking your own death that young wasn't realistic to think about. I didn't... other than sudden anger, sadness and occasional pleasure, the feelings didn't range far or even often.

"I didn't! I really didn't know, had I know ANY of this, I would hace been on your side no questions asked," I pulled my legs closer to me, the fight we had engaged in didn't fair well on my body. The burns from his fire were negligible, the burn from my own ice, though, if not treated soon could start causing decay "You think I wanted to sit by and let him do any of those things to Shouto? That it brought me pleasure in any way to say your mother hospitalized? Natsuo and Fujumi so neglected?" The tears finally started pouring out, this was emotionally too much, hopelessness and guilt was bubbling up and started to eat me inside "I don't care anymore, just, kill me if you have to"

The Todoroki's took me in, not because of me but because of him, for him. They swore he would have wanted me to be a part of their family, all the other soulmates of their kids were just as welcomed. Enji took it upon himself to look for all their kids soulmates, as soon as posible. We all knew how.... intense, Enji Tododroki could be, but we stayed for our soulmates. They weren't a perfect family, or even a good one; but I wanted Touya with me so badly, and his family was all that was left; his grave, his shrine, I needed him and I couldn't have him. Now what? It seems I never had anything of his at all.

"I'm not going to kill you" he said while slowly crouching down ro my eye level, the fire in his hand slowly being put out; the look in his eyes wasn't the thing giving his emotions away but the bond we had, I understood the resignation and the conflict happening in his heart "but, we are in a bit of a bad situation right now, doll" I swallowed thickly and rested the back of my head in what was left of the concrete wall behind me.

"I'm not leaving the kids to be killed" I said after a moment of silence, having had to steel my mind and build my resolve; making sure I understood what I was potentially giving up.

"I'm not going to leave the league" he replied after a deep breath, and I could hear the same resolve in his voice.

and, there in lies our problem.

I straightened up my head to look at him again, his hands reaching to the ice around me, I assumed to melt it "don't... it hurts"

He looked up at me and stopped, taking a quick Look over me. "You have to do something about the ice, or you'll be short an arm and maybe a leg"

The cold was starting to set, over my body, and as usual it started to build in my extremities, I could barely feel my nose and my fingers anymore.

I ignored him, the current situation not leaving my mind at all, my injuries could wait "What do we do?"

"What we've been doing," he hesitantly reached to touch my cheek, providing much-needed warmth, his thumb lightly brushing my nose. "I'm dead, sweetheart." He proceeded to hold my hands for a while, and I wished the warmth building up in my body could stay forever.

He immediately stepped away from me the moment we heard running, signaling that heroes were here. "Your help's here," he said something to himself, and slowly he was swallowed by some black goo. "Don't die on me, I gotta see you at the end of this, however that goes." Once he was gone, she felt the ice she had built break, and some heroes rushed in to help her.

"Are you alright?" Hawks was the first to reach her, the concern in his eyes overflowing. She nodded, though her mind was still reeling from the encounter. The warmth from his touch lingered, contrasting sharply with the chill that had settled in her bones.

"We need to get you to safety," another hero, Midnight asked, as she looked over the area, with a soothing voice, said as she helped her to her feet. "You're not injured, are you?"

"No, I'm fine, just need to get warm, or I’m gonna lose my fingers" she replied, her voice trembling. "He's gone now."

The heroes exchanged glances, a mix of relief and apprehension in their eyes. "Good," Midnight said, "but we need to take you to the hospital, any idea why this happened?"

She looked up at them deciding what to reply, she could tell them everything that had been going on, get herself on a watchlist OR she could lie to them, and live in constat panic hoping they won’t find out any time soon. She took a deep breath once she settled on her answer “No, I was at the convinience store, and he just attacked me” 

As they led her through the bustling streets, the golden hue of the setting sun seemed to mock her turmoil. She couldn't shake the feeling that this was far from over. His words echoed in her mind: "Don't die on me, I gotta see you at the end of this, however that goes." 

What did he mean? Was there still hope, or was it a final farewell? Her heart ached with the uncertainty, and the heroes' reassuring presence did little to quell the storm of emotions raging within her.

Hawks didn't leave her side, and insisted on sleeping in her room until her family arrives. She didn't feel good calling them her family anymore, knowing Touya was alive, she didn't feel like there was a place with them anymore. Before she could let the thoughts settle any further her hospital room door opened to reveal all the Todoroki siblings standing there.

"Are you alright?" She smiled at Shouto, and nodded showing him her fingers "I'm all warmed up, I'm only here for a couple hours to make sure nothing else is wrong" He narrowed his eyes at her and sat his hot side closest to her. As she smiled at him she greeted the others.

Hers or not, she loved them as if they were.

[buriedinsand9]

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

thirty four

miles morales x hispanic!reader

summary ✧.* you hear a loud crash outside of your window of your apartments fire escape. you find yourself face to face with spiderman, he asks you to help him with his wounds. you help the hero and you feel create sort of connection.

genre ✧.* (strangers to friends to lovers, sorta a low burn ig?)

warnings ✧.* (blood mentions, wound mentions, needle mentions) wc: 2.3k - ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

the clock reads 8:34 P.M you lay in bed on your phone, scrolling mindlessly. you hear a loud crash coming from your window, from what you saw from the corner of your eye, it looked like a person. usually cats or birds will fall onto the fire escape, they'll never crash into it. you open your window and look around and see the spider-man wounded on your fire escape "hey..haha.." he says "a-are you okay?" you ask rushing out onto the fire escape. "yo, you mind uh.. helping me out?" he asks pointing to his wounds. his suit is partially covered in blood. "yeah no i can help you out- uh is that yours orr.." you ask, pointing at the blood on his suit. "i dont really know." i help him into my bedroom window and sit him on my bed. "what do you- what do you need help with?" you ask. what an obvious question. he points down at his bloody and torn suit. "right.." you reply in a low voice, almost a whisper. you leave the room and find your family med kit. is this even real? i mean spiderman is in my house, on my bed, my sheets, asking me for my help. this has to be a dream. you think as you rummage through the hallway closet. you come back seeing him hold on to the side of his stomach. you put the med kit on your desk, your back facing him. "do you- do you know how to treat a dagger wound?" you turn to him quickly "you got stabbed?" you ask in concern. "..sort of?" he replies, you sigh. "wheres the wound?" you ask with a hand on your hip and an exhale leaving your mouth again. he takes his hand off the side of his stomach and shows you the dagger wound. "oh shit." you reply, looking closely at the wound. "im gonna assume you put pressure on it right after you got stabbed because you arent gushin' out blood." you say, turning around to your materials "y-yeah i did. so can you treat it?" he asks, a wince following his reply. "oh yeah for sure, i just need to stitch it up." you say finding the correct materials, which isnt much. its just a needle, some thread, gloves, some cotton pads here and there. you sterilize the needle and thread. "this is gonna hurt like a bitch." you tell him as you organize your stuff. "you could bite down on a wet towel or you can hold on to one of my pillows." you tell him, putting on your blue gloves. "can i, uh, bite the pillow?" he asks. you stop in confusion. "you know what.. sure." you turn around with the thread and needle in hand. "okay so im not a doctor. that means if you get an infection its totally not my fault." you tell him as you sit next to him. he laughs. he lays down on the pile of pillows you have at the feet of your bed. he pulls his mask just above his nose to breathe better, you watch the mask un-reveal his facial features. spiderman has some soft lips- hold up, not the point and obviously not the time. you think to yourself. he grabs the nearest pillow he could find, biting on it. "relax your body, count down to 100, and focus on your breathing" you tell him, inching closer to his wound with the needle in your dominant hand. you start to stitch up his wound. you feel his breathing getting heavier. "you're doing great, just focus on your breathing." you reassure him, still stitching him up.

you finish stitching him up, cut the excess thread and stand up from beside him. "are you feeling okay?" you ask as you grab the cleaning supplies to clean his other wounds. "y-yeah 'm feelin' better already." he tells you, sitting up. "im just gonna clean up your other wounds. is that okay?" you ask him, turning back around to face him and he nods. you turn back around, changing your gloves to clean ones. you sit back down next to him, attending his other wounds.

you see his eyes start to wander around your room. "yo are you a photographer?" he asks pointing to some polaroids on the desk. "oh yeah. i take pictures of things sometimes." you clean around some shoulder scratches he had. "is that me?" he asks about a photo you had on a small box of him swinging around. "oh shit yeah. i saw you swinging around late at night and i snapped a picture. i actually have a couple more in that box. im on the roof a lot and you swing around a lot so.. you know." the room falls silent. did i weird him out? you think to yourself. the silence breaks as he starts talking. "uh do you mind showin' me?" you relax your shoulders hearing his words. "oh yeah, sure." you finish cleaning his shoulder and back wounds and you get the photo box.

you sit down on your desk chair and hand him the photo box. he opens it and takes out the photos you've taken of him. "oh this one looks so badass." he says, showing you a picture you took of him floating in the air. you chuckle lightly at his comment. he pulls out another picture you took of some cats sleeping on a building roof. "i've seen these cats before!" he tells you, a sort of excitement in his deep voice. "i always see them sleeping on the roof next to mine so i have a couple of photos of them." you chuckle as the room goes silent again.

"well uh thanks for the help. sorry for uh.. fallin' on your fire escape?" he chuckles. "yeah no its my pleasure! id say if you need anything you could just come here but uh.. you know." you insinuate to him sending the hint of 'well you're spider-man and im me so i doubt you'll just come back as if im your personal doctor!' he gets the hint and starts to stand up. "oh wait, let me get you a little after-care kit for your wounds." you tell him running out of the room getting the things. you come back with all of the things in a box. you take a post-it note and write the instructions down. "here," you say giving him the box "the instructions are inside." he takes the box and looks back up at you. "oh uh thanks." he tells you with a smile on his face. you open your window for him and he steps out. "be careful with swinging or any physical activities. you dont wanna risk those stitches poppin' out." you both laugh. "ill be seein you spider-man." you tell him. "you too- wait i never got your name." he turns back to you. "bye bye!" you reply, closing your window. "i-" he scoffs, smiling and leaves. he was pretty cute, you thought, well at least what you saw of him was cute.. kind of bummed he wont come back.

little did you know he would come back. a lot..

A/N: ive had this idea for a while now im so glad i can finally write it jsjsjs this is a series btw so stay tuned for part two 😝ill see yall next time hehe

[consumeconstantly]

SBGS ch 6

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3 

2:00AM | CoffeeVamp: marinette dupain cheng could step on me and i would thank her

CoffeeVamp: did you all see how bad ass that girl was

CoffeeVamp: she was just like demon spawn is robin? Well fuck you for being in paris

CoffeeVamp: and her file oml this girl does so much for paris and he classmates treat her like CRAP

Daddy: How do you know her Damian? Clearly you guys have met before. Can you really trust her with your identity?

Jesus: this girl has been keeping her own secret identitieS under wraps for years I doubt she’ll rat 

CoffeeVamp: DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON MDC 

CoffeeVamp: all i ever wanted was for MDC to design smth for me but u ruined ALL my chances demon spawn !!!!

2:15 AM | TheOG: I think we can trust her

TheOG: Don’t think she trusts us tho

CoffeeVamp: yea what was with the zip ties 

CoffeeVamp: do you have smth to tell us ;))) 

CoffeeVamp: have u been getting spicy in paris ;))) 

CoffeeVamp: remember to use protection we don’t need any mini yous around

LadyLady: she’s good. I can see why Ladybug trusts her

DemonSpawn: She’s a friend I met in Paris. She can keep a secret.

2:20 AM | DemonSpawn: I regret not trusting her. 

CoffeeVamp: i cant believe that u thought someone who was nice enough to spend time wu willingly could be a supervillain

Jesus: that’s pretty fucked up man

Jesus: Surprised she didn’t rail on you more for that. I would’ve given you a beat down

LadyLady: u need a game plan to get her on your side. She doesn’t have a good reason to trust u anymore and id like it if we were on good terms with the one person that can contact lb

The OG: ^^ babs is always right

TheOG: you only have two weeks

DemonSpawn: How do I get on her good side?

Jesus: you better hope and pray because girls like that do not forgive easy

TheOG: try being her friend again

Jesus: like she wants to be his friend anymore

LadyLady: Apologize to her.

#

Jason is right.

It’s clear that Marinette does not want to be involved with him any longer. Marinette comes in right as the bell rings, then faces firmly ahead and doesn’t spare him a single glance. Notes that he slips to her are ignored. She doesn’t check her phone for his texts except for once, when she texts him: anything related to last night will be discussed out of school.

Instead of going home for lunch, she willingly sits with Lila, just so she can avoid him cornering her in the bakery. Damian watches them from a distance, but he’s close enough to hear most of the conversations. Most of their other classmates are taken in by some video on Alya’s. There’s a quick exclamation from the Ladyblogger, saying something about being able to meet some American celebrity, and she and the rest of the class run off to somewhere else, though not before inviting Lila and Adrien. They’re turned down, and Marinette continues to sit with the two of them.

“We’ve got a photo shoot together later today.” Adrien sounds tired. Like he’s giving up, almost. 

“Would you like to come, Marinette?” 

Damian can’t make out Marinette’s reply, but she must say yes, because Lila’s calculated facade slips away to reveal shock and interest. Lila entwines her fingers with Adrien’s, an act Adrien clearly isn’t expecting, as he flinches. 

Marinette levels a glance at Lila, who looks surprised at Adrien’s reaction, not that Damian can blame her; she practically hangs off Adrien every day, playing up their couple relationship for the media, and Adrien never reacts like this. He inches closer. Lila reaches out to touch Adrien on the shoulder, in a gesture of soothing, but Adrien flinches again, this time gaining a distant look in his eyes and starting to breath hard. Lila goes to kneel--it’s clear that Adrien is on the verge of a full blown panic attack-- but Marinette holds Lila by her arm and shakes her head, gesturing for her to wait off to the side. 

Adrien’s reactions are trademarks of an abuse victim. His reactions are rather dramatic in comparison to the clenched jaw and distant eyes that he normally sees in kids in Gotham, which leads Damian to the conclusion that this is either a more recent thing, or when he is abused, he emphasizes his weakness in attempt to get the attacker to stop. The question of who seems rather redundant; everyone knows that Adrien Agreste is the sheltered, sunshine boy who never stepped a foot out of his mansion before turning twelve. Though he models, his actions are still highly restricted. There’s not really much of a chance for Adrien’s abuser to be anyone other than the people within his immediate vicinity, so the suspects were his father, the personal assistant, his drive, or someone he works with.

He’ll have to keep this information in mind moving forward. Though Damian ordered extensive background checks on each and every student at Francois Dupont, he only read the profiles of the people in his class, and only keeps tabs on the people that are of interest.nIn Mlle. Bustier’s class, the only people who Damian is interested in are Marinette, for obvious reasons, Lila Rossi, for the sheer number of times she was akumatized during year two of Hawkmoth’s presence, Chloe Bourgeois, who may not be Francois Dupont student, let alone in France at the moment, but has a parent who currently sits at the top of his family’s Hawkmoth suspect list and has gotten countless people akumatized, and Adrien Agreste, the only person other than Marinette who hasn’t been akumatized in the akuma class. If Adrien really is being abused-- and he doesn’t really see any reason for Adrien to fake the symptoms, given that there’s really nothing for him to gain out of this situation-- that knocks him up a space on the list of Hawkmoth suspects. Victims of abuse, especially in a high profile situation, are often likely to either lash out or coop themselves up. Since he isn’t purposely excluding himself from activities, given that he converses with Marinette, Lila, and two other classmates named Nino and Alya, it’s possible that he has adopted Hawkmoth as an alter ego to pursue revenge. 

All this, of course, is mere speculation. Before making any abrupt jumps in his logic, like he did with Marinette-- though he defends himself with the fact that his thoughts on her being Hawkmoth were mere speculation, and that it was merely coincidence or a case of extremely bad luck that Marinette… what, thought he was Hawkmoth as well and then passed the information onto Ladybug? Now that he thinks about it, the whole situation seems ridiculous, and he finds that Ladybug’s lack of tact when coming face to face with her supposed arch-nemesis doesn’t befit a hero of her caliber. She seemed oddly emotional about the whole thing, like his existence as Hawkmoth was a personal betrayal. But Ladybug and Damian never met before that. Why did Ladybug take Marinette’s personal vendetta upon herself? His head hurts.

Damian finds himself walking over to their table, where Marinette is speaking in soothing tones, careful not to touch Adrien at all. He calms down enough to start breathing regularly. Even though his eyes are still watery, he looks up at Marinette with a tentative smile. Marinette looks back at him with such pure, unadulterated love, that Damian blinks slowly to make sure he’s not seeing things. There aren’t many people who show emotions that don’t have some hidden barb underneath, or an undercurrent of a different emotion alongside it. 

Then, Marinette sends a calculating look at Damian, and a briefer one at Lila and Adrien. 

“Lila, can I talk to you in private for a moment?” Although Marinette’s tone keeps to a pleasant range, Damian finds it rather familiar. Like when Alfred pulls him or one of his brothers to the side to politely tell them what they’re doing wrong and how to remedy it. But there’s a bit of genuine ferocity in Marinette’s tone, and the Italian girl steps back. 

“Adrien, I’m going to leave you here with Damian just for a second, okay? I’ll be right back, and if you need me for anything, just call.” She gives Damian a look that says if you hurt this boy, I will end you and heads off with Lila. 

“Damian,” Adrien says. He’s trying to come off as calm and cheery. He misses the mark terribly. Somehow, Damian gets the feeling that the boy isn’t very good at bottling up his emotions, odd, considering that he’s grown up partially in the limelight. “I see you’re well acquainted with our everyday Ladybug. She really is amazing.”

There’s a touch of awe, and it makes Damian uncomfortable for no good reason. 

He’s not sure how to deal with people who look like they’re about to cry. Damian doesn’t have to deal with that. Dick’s in charge of any emotional clean up that’s necessary in the public; Alfred helps his family manage their emotions in the manor. He decides that going with the flow is the best option in this situation. An everyday Ladybug. What an interesting piece of terminology.

“She is.” Damian admits,  “We’re not currently on the best of terms.” 

Damian will be surprised if Marinette even manages to civilly work with him for the rest of the week. He wasn’t expecting their subsequent interactions after last night to be the same as they were prior to her finding out that he was Robin and thinking that she was Hawkmoth, but he thought she would just interact coolly with him. Not this silent treatment. She refuses to talk to him and only looks at him with some combination of disdain and ill intent. 

He can’t manage to give her the same treatment, both because he is on a mission and because he can’t fault her for thinking that he was Hawkmoth. The situation is really, rather comical, but he spent enough time ruminating on his actions the previous night to pick up on all of the red flags that made her come to that conclusion, and even is she was a hero for a short period of time, he can’t expect someone who is, by and large, a civilian to have the same investigative capabilities his family does. If anything, he is ashamed of himself for jumping to the conclusion that she was Hawkmoth, when instead, it turned out she is working for Ladybug. 

However, the Marinette he’s seen so far doesn’t seem the type to hold grudges, especially not when it comes to any pressing issue, and he finds that all of the decisions she makes are heavily logic-based and influenced by Sabine’s values, who is definitely an upright woman if he’s ever seen one. Marinette has too strong of a work ethic to actually ignore Damian when it comes down to it, but he has to wonder why she acted so blatantly hostile to him. Her character combined with her actions just don’t match up, which means there's another reason why she’s acting this way. 

While Damian excels at extracting raw data and testimonies from people due to brute force, and is decent enough at getting people to do what he desires, determining the source of a person’s frustration, what drives a person-- he needs more work with that. He’s much better at getting people mad. And Damian doesn’t think he’s seen Marinette mad at anyone except for Celia DeVries. She has nerves made of steel and patience carved from diamond.

“I hope you figure it out.” Adrien says with such sincerity that it’s frightening. He’s surprisingly pure-hearted for a model entrenched in a mega corporation like Gabriel. The entertainment industry, particularly the fashion side of business, is a very cut throat world. Adrien doesn’t seem like a person who’s been in the public eyes for years. “Please be a better friend to her than I am. I really wanted to do more for her, but my hands are... tied.”

Lila is subdued when she and Marinette return. Her eyes dart to Adrien, and she frowns and bites her bottom lip. Then she looks away and crosses her arms. 

“Let’s get back to class. I’m excited to go to the photoshoot after school! I haven’t spent any time with you in so long, Adrien.” Marinette doesn’t sound like she’s faking it. She sounds so genuinely happy, and Damian wonders if he can make her sound like that again. If he ever made her sound like that. 

Adrien looks at Marinette, then asks Damian, “Would you like to come too?”

The look that Adrien gives him tells him to say yes, even though he can feel the cold that radiates off Marinette. Damian agrees; it’s time to try Barbara’s suggestion and apologize, and since he doubts that he’ll get a word in edgewise when they’re working together at night, he has to try apologizing sooner.

The rest of the school day slips by in a blur. 

Then, the four of them are out on the streets, and Damian finds their combination unnerving, to say the least. He’s still on bad terms with Marinette, and Marinette has never been on the best terms with Lila. She’s going to this shoot solely for the opportunity to be with Adrien, and something about that unsettles Damian. Still, regardless of how Damian feels, the photographer on the set of Adrien and Lila’s shoot loves all four of them.

“Fantastico! Adrien’s friends are rare finds. It’s true about what they say; beautiful people, they associate with beautiful people.” The photographer flits around Damian and Marinette, getting uncomfortably close. Damian shoots him a glare, but the photographer simply takes it in stride.

“Yes, yes, the most beautiful eyes, so passionate. The perfect measurements, too! Lara,” he calls to one of his assistants, “Get them all to makeup. These four are who I’ve been waiting for to fulfil my vision of envy. Gabriel will have to wait on his magazine spread. I’ve been inspired!” The photographer circles the four of them, like a hunter and his prey. 

Out of nowhere, the photographer grasps Marinette’s chin, and despite the initial flinch she gives-- he’s not sure whether she was going to kick or punch him, but the sudden spitfire in her eyes said she was going to do something-- she settles into a locked jaw and curled fingers. Damian sees a slight jump from Adrien as well, which seems unusual; on the way over, he talked about how he worked with this photographer before and was very comfortable with him. He regaled them with funny stories of how he tended to reference spaghetti in shoots that were less pleasant to make the models laugh. 

“Ah, Adrien, you have truly delivered the favor of Fortuna upon me. I cannot believe I never saw this earlier. You have brought this girl to shoots before, have you not? I never forget a beautiful face, even when I am focused on other things.” 

Marinette calmly displaces Vincent’s hand from her face. “Thank you for the kind words, Monsieur, but I think it best that we just watch the originally planned shoot. I am no model and have no interest in being one.”

Vincent gives Marinette a once over, like he’s not used to people disagreeing with whatever vision he has for the day. “From one artist to the next-- this project is important to me. I’ve had the idea for years, but have yet to come across the perfect models to portray it. What will it take to convince you? ”

At this, nearly all the tension that Marinette has coiled up in her shoulders dissipates. Vincent has said the right thing. “I see. Really, Vincent, I think it’s best that you continue with the Gabriel shoot. M. Agreste wouldn’t be happy if he found out that his spread was delayed.”

“But the Muse, Mademoiselle! She runs away so quickly. And the four of you are perfect.” Vincent turns to the other three. 

“Surely, you understand. Mlle. Rossi, M. Agreste, you must have felt an urge to do something so strongly that it pulls you in. And you,” he looks more closely at Damian. “You are an artist as well, aren’t you Monsieur? I can tell. It’s in the hands and eyes. Art, she comes, but she is fickle. If I don’t do this now, it will be gone forever. And the pursuit of true art means more than any Gabriel spread.”

Surprisingly, it is Adrien who responds first. “I might not understand art, Vincent, but I know what you’re talking about. The feeling of wanting to do something badly, to set yourself free…”

He twists his ring. Marinette looks at him sadly again, hands twitching like she wants to hold him to provide comfort. 

“Besides, I don’t really want to do a Gabriel spread today. I haven’t spent time with friends in a long time, and I don’t think anything could make me happier than doing a photoshoot with you three right now.”

This makes Lila look at Adrien in a curious sort of way. Not the sad look that Marinette is giving him, but one of a slowly dawning realization. When Adrien references her as a friend, she looks happy. Proud, almost. Then, she looks like she’s connecting dots in her head, and she doesn’t look happy with the conclusion that she’s drawn. As soon as the frown  touches her lips, Lila shifts back to an impeccably crafted mask. 

Damian doesn’t agree with the sentiment that they are friends. He has barely had a full conversation with the blond, though he will admit that Adrien does have more of a brain than the rest of his classmates. He looks at the ill-concealed shadows beneath Adrien’s eyes and sees Tim.

Lila agrees almost immediately after Adrien finishes speaking. “Inspiration is fleeting. Art waits for no one.”

Marinette purses her lips. She asks Vincent, “You won’t get in any trouble for this?”

“I can handle any backlash Gabriel throws at me. Heaven knows that man has pissed off one too many photographers before.”

“You can, but what about everybody else involved?” She looks at Adrien, specifically. He fidgets with his ring again, and sends Marinette a look so pleading that she sighs. “Fine. I don’t mind doing the shoot.”

“Fantastico!” He turns his gaze to Damian.

“I’ll do it.” He’s never been particularly fond of photographers, given that the invasiveness of the media has led his family to various unpleasant situations, but Cass went through a photography phase, and out of all of his ‘sibling’ relationships, he is the most willing to indulge her. 

“Will you tell us what the subject of the shoot is?” Marinette has inched closer to Adrien. Adrien pauses, stops fidgeting with his ring, and looks at Marinette. A world weary smile creeps onto his face, and his hand reaches out for Marinette’s like he wasn’t expecting himself to do that. He looks surprised when he finds his hand in hers, tenses for a moment. But Marinette doesn’t say anything, and rubs soothing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. This seems to relax him more than fidgeting with his ring. He sags, and Damian can’t bring himself to feel anything but pity for Adrien. Lila looks curious, but not jealous. 

Vincent surveys the four of them again, a growing smile on his face. “No, I think the four of you are already perfetto. A little direction here and there, but yes, yes, this is very good.”

“Lara, bring them to makeup. You know what to do. I must set up! Don’t call Gabriel; we will most likely be taking this to a second location at sunset.” Then, Vincent is off, muttering something in Italian under his breath. 

“Thank you so much for agreeing to do this shoot,” Adrien rambles as soon as they get into makeup. “Vincent is such a great photographer and he’s taken really good care of me over the years. He’ll take good care of all of you as well.”

He continues, a little softer. “I really wanted to spend time with the three of you, together. I--I think it would be really nice if we could all be friends.”

Damian has his eyes closed because eyeshadow is being applied, but he can practically feel the surprise rolling off Marinette.

“Adrien, we are friends already.” 

“We are, but we’re not really close. The only person I talked to often was Nino, and recently, father has-- ” he breaks off, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, before speaking quickly in an attempt to speak up before losing his nerve. “But I don’t just mean friends with me, I mean the four of us. I want the four of us to be friends.”

The makeup artist who is working on Adrien shushes him, but Damian gets to open his eyes. Adrien is clearly nervous. He’s not shaking-- he is bred far too well for that-- but he has reverted back to fidgeting with his ring. He tries to bite his lip, but the makeup artist shakes her head and tuts.

The girls are both silent, and Adrien looks so nervous that he has to do something. He doesn’t think he’s interacted like this with anyone as nervous as Adrien before; his brothers were all big personalities, as were the Teen Titans. He may have come across nervous or anxious civilians as Robin, but those situations were more straight and cut, involving little to no talking. Damian decides to that a cross between how he interacts with Dick and how he interacts with the people he saves is the best bet for this situation, though his tone comes out more condescending than he planned.

“Why the four of us?” Damian can’t really see why Adrien has singled out the four of them. As far as he can tell, there’s no good blood between them. Adrien, Marinette, and Damian all harbor varying levels of dislike or discomfort towards Lila; Adrien, Lila, and Damian have all fucked over Marinette in various ways (or so he Damian assumes on Adrien’s part-- he is sure they would have been closer, otherwise); Lila, Marinette and Damian haven't talked to Adrien in any capacity that implies that they're more than mere acquaintances; Damian has done nothing that would put himself in the favor of the three. 

Adrien fidgets even more, and the makeup artist smacks him and says that she doesn’t want to have to redo his eyeliner. “I think we all have a lot in common. And, I might not be good at showing it, but I like the three of you.”

Marinette makes some noise in disbelief and Lila narrows her eyes. 

“Hear me out on this, guys. All of us try to help people when we can,”

“That’s basic human decency, Adrien,” Marinette says.

“Me, helping people?” Lila scoffs.

“We help people out more than most people do-- and Lila, you really do help people. Sure, you might not have been telling the truth about all of the celebrities or all of the charities you worked with, but you’ve helped a lot of charities throughout the years.”

Damian quirks an eyebrow. “And me?”

“I’ve heard about Silverstein and Company.” Adrien says, then continues on with his list of Reasons Why They Should Be Friends. 

“None of us like telling people about our problems.”

This is met with no resistance.

“And we’re also all lonely.”

Silence. 

Marinette’s makeup artist breaks up the oppressive silence, “And all good looking to boot!”

“It’s true what they say about the most beautiful,” Lila’s makeup artist says, “They’re always so troubled.”

Marinette laughs, but it’s strained. “Don’t worry Mademoiselle. We’re just being teens.”

“Loneliness isn’t a good reason to form relationships.” Lila says. Her voice is quiet. She looks off to some fixed point in the distance.

“It’s not the worst reason there ever was,” Adrien shrugs, satisfied now that he’s said his piece. His shoulders are back a little more now. Whatever happens next is up to them, not him. “And I like all of you. I think we all have very unique personalities that could work well together.”

Marinette shrugs her shoulders. “If there’s one thing that I’ve learned about relationships, it’s that initial compatibility means very little in the grand scheme of things. Relationships can work as long as you work for them. They might not be the fairy tale storyline that people chase after, but relationships that are worked on last longer. Adrien could be right. We might be able to all be good friends.”

Lila fixes Marinette with a stare. “You’re willing to be my friend? After what I did to you?”

Marinette shouldn’t be willing to be friends with Lila after what she did. In fact, after reading multiple books on healthy relationships when trying to cope with Chloe way back when, she shouldn’t be willing to be friends with any of them. It feels fucked up, but Marinette realizes that Damian, who believed she was a super villain, has the least strikes against a healthy relationship currently. 

Even though Marinette knows that circumstance doesn’t excuse any of them-- Marinette doesn’t excuse her stalkerish tendencies back when she first met Adrien, either-- she knows that the three of them are just teens who have too many responsibilities and problems on their shoulders. They’re capable of change, and as both Ladybug and Marinette, she wants to believe that someone’s past actions doesn’t mean they can’t move forward. Perhaps their current actions should be taken with a healthy dose of cynicism, and perhaps their past colors how much Marinette will be able to trust them in certain areas, but throughout her years of existence she’s seen that there is no person who has only done good in their life.

“You’ve been better lately. I respect someone who changes themselves for the better.” What Marinette doesn’t say; she’s mostly willing to try this tentative friendship out for Adrien’s sake, because Lila seems to be the only one who can get Gabriel Agreste on her side and Marinette needs her help if she and Adrien’s trust if she can ever dream of emancipating Adrien. 

Marinette is also confident that Lila is currently coming into her own, and knows that Lila didn’t have any good example to model herself after during her formative years. The fact that she’s changing now? It’s honestly pretty impressive, and even more so considering the people that are in Mme. Bustier’s class aren’t exactly cut from the most inspirational cloth. Why Lila is trying to change is something Marinette is curious about, but they’re definitely not close enough for Marinette to ask Lila that. There is also the very important fact that Lila has not been akumatized this entire year, nor has she gone out of her way to encourage someone else’s akumatization.

A small smile settles on Lila’s face. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I am … sorry for what I did to you back then.”

Marinette hums with her eyes closed as a light layer of shadows placed on her crease. “I accept your apology. While we’re on this topic, I’d like to apologize to Adrien. I’m sorry that I haven’t been a very good friend to you. You’re an amazing person, and I want you to know that. Your self-worth should never be degraded by other people, and I really hope that you can come to rely on me.”

A watery, affectionate smile from Adrien. “Marinette, you’ve always been one of my best friends.”

“I regret what I said to you yesterday,” Damian cannot muster an apology-- he does not apologize, certainly not for doing his job, but Marinette is… useful. He needs her to accomplish her mission, and she’s kind. 

There is no verbal response from Marinette, but she’s looking at him, at least. She hasn’t looked at him all day besides the one glare she gave him that told him to take care of Adrien. 

Lila looks between the two of them. “What are you sorry for? I was under the impression that the two of you were great friends.”

He is sorry, if only slightly, but it takes a lot for him to get an apology. If anything, Marinette should be apologizing to him, for mistaking him as Hawkmoth, right? “Last night was--”

Marinette cuts him off with a sharp laugh. “Damian here thought I was Hawkmoth.”

Adrien bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, you thought Marinette was Hawkmoth? Out of all the Parisians you could choose! You know she goes around the city saving random people, right? She’s our everyday Ladybug. Doesn’t sound very supervillainy to me.”

Lila laughs too, and the tension in the preparation room finally breaks. “Please, if Marinette were Hawkmoth, she would have gotten Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous already. Have you seen what a planner she is?”

This gets Adrien to fake shudder. “It’s true. If Marinette really were Hawkmoth, she’d be so powerful. She knows everybody’s deepest fears, can kick ass and take names, and can come up with the weirdest plans that solve everybody’s problems in an instant. Imagine if she went to the dark side.”

“She would make an awful akuma.” Lila agrees. “How powerful you are as an akuma is linked to how strong you are mentally and how strong your emotions are when the butterfly lands on you. Whatever makes Marinette upset enough to have an akuma after her would probably be the result of some very strong emotions.”

“She’d be strong enough to level the entire city.”

Marinette is bright red, and if it were not for the fact that mascara is being applied to her lashes, she’d probably have her face buried in her hands. “Okay, okay, I would be an awful akuma. But I won’t ever be akumatized, so it’s fine.”

Adrien thinks of Marinette being an akuma more, and his face goes pale. “She really would be able to steal Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculouses successfully.”

“No, she’s too morally righteous to do that. She’d probably go after Hawkmoth and win while she was akumatized.” Lila looks pensive. “All akumas retain most of their original personality traits, just exaggerated. Some even have some semblance of control over their actions.”

“If that wouldn’t be one of Anime’s top 10 betrayals, I don’t know what is. Hawkmoth akumatizes Marinette and then she rightfully kicks his ass.”

“Guys,” Marinette hisses. “I won’t ever become an akuma. Never.”

“You say that like you can refuse Hawkmoth,” Lila laughs. “You can certainly go after akumas, but refuse them? No way.”

Adrien zeroes in on Marinette’s hesitance. “Have you?”

Marinette shifts in her seat, her mouth set into a grim line.

“You have,” Adrien says with a touch of awe. Damian is impressed too; no reports of people being able to refuse an akuma have passed through the many hours of research he’s spent scouring the internet. He understands why Ladybug put so much trust in Marinette. “When?”

This sets Marinette on edge. Her back straightens into a board. 

Lila picks at her fingernails in shame. “Did I?”

Marinette doesn’t respond, but the tremble of her mouth and her silence answers the question well enough. 

Damian doubts he’ll ever get the full story of what happened that first year when Lila arrived. Marinette isn’t one to snitch, and Lila is both unwilling and tentatively ashamed of the past. Adrien won’t answer out of courtesy. Damian will never go to any of the other classmates to hear a bastardized version of what went down. He supposes he’ll never find out the whole truth.

Marinette’s stylist claps her hand. “Okay, enough teenage angst for today. All of your makeup is done, so it’s time to get into your outfits. Let’s go, kids.”

They’re silent as they dress.

#

The shoot is a flurry of excitement. There are many whispered conversations, but Marinette can’t keep track of half of them. Whenever she isn’t in a shot-- which is fairly rare as she seems to be the main subject of whatever Vincent is shooting for-- Marinette focuses on what needs to happen next. Though she’s still not currently the biggest fan of Damian or the Justice League, she will give them a fair chance, because as much as she hates to admit it, she needs the help. Batman is right. Even though she wasn’t actively working on the case for the first year, she still had plenty of time to gather evidence to back up her main suspects. Her lack of expertise in technology hinders progress greatly.

Not to mention that because Marinette was so wary about hurting Adrien and so swamped trying to keep a balanced schedule, she wasn’t able to find enough evidence to feel safe in her convictions. Master Fu warned her of incorrectly accusing Gabriel in the eye of the public, and he hasn’t come out to fight since the Scarlet Moth incident. She’s tried to investigate Gabriel in his own house, but any evidence slips through her fingers. He’s a very careful man.

 Now that the promise of college is coming up, Marinette needs to take Hawkmoth down. Marinette doesn’t want to continue her schooling in France. Not anymore. She wants to go to a foreign college, where dreams of akumas won’t plague her at every step. Half the reason she finds herself on the streets as a civilian constantly is to erase the gory imagery of death and blood that linger in her mind eye from akuma battles. Seeing happy and alive citizens in all of the areas where Hawkmoth attacked make her feel better, but aren’t enough to chase away her nightmares entirely.

Marinette moves through the rest of the photoshoot in a haze. When she is in shot, she focuses on whoever she’s shooting with. Lila, with sharp green eyes, barely begins to lower her guard when Marinette directs the conversation towards past modelling shoots she’s been involved with. They interact unnaturally at first, but after starting to talk about Dior’s Spring/Summer ready to wear line, they find that they have similar tastes in silhouettes, though not in color. 

She forces herself to ignore the fiasco that was last night, and talks to Damian about small nothings that don’t touch on anything important. When she runs out of topics, she begins to talk about Renee, and his gaze shifts to something resembling regret and some other emotion she can’t read. Dealing with whatever issues Damian has is not ideal. He’ll have to sort out his feelings on his own.

Adrien’s expressions are the easiest to read. Whenever he’s in a shot with Marinette, he is happy, plain and simple. There is less weight on his shoulders, and as Marinette attempts to cheer him up with poorly thought out puns, he looks like a kid again. He even starts punning back, and Marinette can’t believe how much she missed that. Chat Noir stopped punning a while ago, and it hurt in unexpected ways. 

Really, Marinette just wants Adrien to be happy. Adrien is Chat Noir. Her best friend. Her partner. Marinette thinks Adrien deserves the world. She wants to pave a path for him so that his entrance into the adult world is easier, because the facade Gabriel has built of a picture perfect family attempting to cope with the loss of a mother and wife isn’t what Adrien needs.

Maybe Marinette wants him to have the childhood he wasn’t afforded. Marinette clings to warm memories of her own childhood, where Maman trained her in self defense and Papa taught her how to bake when things get particularly hard nowadays. Her heart warms when she sees Adrien give shy smiles to Damian and Lila. She’s proud when he strikes up conversations with them.

In all honesty, the only part of the shoot Marinette remembers is the last section of group photos they take when they move to a second location. It’s a cold day in Spring, which means Parisian tourists are more likely to be found inside an art museum, rather than on the beach. Adrien convinces them all that they should run around the beach, and somehow, they end up playing some extremely difficult version of capture the flag, but without the flags. 

Somehow, Marinette ends up on a team of her own, for the sole reason that she’s the only one wearing white, and the person who holds the opposing team’s flag is Damian. She tackles him onto the sand, but not before both Lila and Adrien are hot on her tail. They end up in a pile, and Adrien’s laughter rings so sweet and true, that Marinette’s heart fills with love. She shifts, so her body is facing skywards instead of into Damian’s arm, and she reaches one arm across Damian’s body to grab Lila’s hand, who flinches at first touch, but relaxes. Marinette’s other hand finds itself tangled in Adrien’s hair, and despite the cold weather, Marinette is content. 

She looks towards the horizon, where the sun is setting in a million different colors, and finds herself longing for a time where every day can be just like this moment.Where there is nothing filling her head except thoughts of the people who make her happy. Her eyes shift straight up.

Where morning fades into night, the sky is so very, very, blue.

#

Marinette’s room turns into an organized warzone at night.

The area of her room that was previously used to hold up various sketches and mood boards for designs in progress turns out not to be an upholstered wall, but a curtain that hides two whiteboards and a small library of books on the psychology of emotional manipulation, manuals of martial arts, and various books on strategy. The shelf above her desk space holds a projector that Marinette uses to project images from her computer onto the left white board. 

“I’ll catch you up on my previous attempts and what you have to know in order for this partnership to work.” She takes her tablet out, flips through several screens, then uses her fingerprint to unlock a folder of notes. “This is a chronological list of things that Ladybug and I have attempted in order to find Hawkmoth’s location. There is a separate folder with suspects for identity that’s alphabetized. If you’re interested in more in depth analyses of past akumas, I can send that to you and your team’s emails now, as most of the information is readily available online. I’m assuming that you have a team, correct?”

“Yes, I can send their email addresses to your number.”

“No, for any information regarding Hawkmoth or superheroes in Paris, you can contact me through this number and email address. Ladybug and I both check it regularly; it’s a safer, more encrypted way of communication.” Marinettte taps her Miraculous communicator and connects it to her computer, so she can work on a bigger screen. “Which person is your main point of contact?”

“Oracle.” 

Marinette contacts Oracle through video call. She doesn’t want to have to explain everything twice even if their partnership turns out to be nonviable. It takes a few moments to get through, but a woman’s face pops up on the screen. She’s a redhead and doesn’t wear a mask. Her coloring is obviously different from the rest of Batman’s affiliates, and despite her initial grievances with the white films over the vigilante’s eyes, she understand why it’s necessary; their suits aren’t magic, and there’s nothing stopping people from running facial recognition software and matching them up to people who reside in Gotham. 

“How did you get this number?” Oracle asks warily. 

Marinette moves her chair slightly so that Oracle can see Damian, who's currently looking at her tablet on her chaise. “I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, your point of contact in Paris and the one who will be working with you for the next week. As you can see, Damian’s already viewing some information that Ladybug and I have compiled over the years. Please get the rest of your team on this call. I’d like to get all of the basic information out of the way now.”

“Damian?” The girl on her screen is a dead ringer for the girl they compiled multiple files on yesterday, but she can’t get a trace on where they’re calling from, which makes her suspicious.

Damian shoots her a text, confirming that it is actually him in the room, then goes back to scrolling through the tablet.

Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, and Batman all appear on the screen shortly. 

“Great, the gang's all here,” Marinette says unenthusiastically. “I’ll say it one more time. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I will be your primary point of contact during your two weeks trial period here in Paris. I’m assuming that your team has been brought up on the events that occurred last night. In order for this attempted partnership to go more smoothly, I will provide you lists of suspects, past attempts at revealing Hawkmoth’s location, and more detailed information about all of the past akumas that have appeared. These files will only be available to you for the week unless the collaboration goes successfully. Damian has already given me your contact information.”

As an afterthought, Marinette adds, “Don’t bother trying to copy any of the files. You won’t be able to. You also won’t be able to pick up on my location through this video call; I’m using a Miraculous Communicator. The magic makes it so that any technology other than another Miraculous will be unable to find any identifying location.”

Marinette knows about this thanks to Max’s brief stint as Pegasus. Though Marinette had not yet learned spells that would allow her to materialize her communicator outside of the time that she was suited up, she had Max try to find Ladybug’s location after sending him a text. He and Markov were both unable to. 

“Since the Justice League insists on sticking their nose where it does not belong,” Marinette can’t help but be bitter about this whole situation, despite the fact that her frustration with Damian has decreased. “Ladybug and I have created a plan to make full use of your resources while you’re still butting in. I’ve sent a list of which organizations need monetary support. Most are affiliated with mental health.”

“Let’s move onto how you guys as a team can help us. As far as I understand, Batman’s team is proficient in technology and investigation. For the past two years that we’ve actively been on the case, nobody has had those skill sets and been in the long term possession of a Miraculous. The police attempted investigation for the first year, but their evidence and information was largely unhelpful. I will give Damian the Miraculous Communicator that I am in possession of to use his skills with so long as he tells me what he’s doing with it and he uses it while I’m in his immediate vicinity. He can try to find out Hawkmoth’s location on it, perhaps with a greater degree of success that we have been able to.”

She goes through the checklist she made one more time, just to make sure that she didn’t miss anything. She doesn’t really expect anything much to come out of this collaboration, except for the reassurance that the Justice League won’t interfere at the end of the week. Speaking of: “One more thing. I want a notarized agreement that the Justice League will not interfere in Paris, nor will any of their agents of affiliates be sent here if this collaboration doesn’t yield information that is already known.”

“Got a lotta spark in you, don’t you, little mouse?” The vigilante called Red Hood-- the one with a helmet instead of a stupid domino mask-- laughs. 

Marinette scowls. So far, the Justice League-- particularly the vigilantes of Gotham-- have not left her with a stunning first impression. Maybe she’s a little biased,  but they certainly don’t seem to have any respect for her. Still, she only has to work with them for two weeks. “My name is Marinette, but clearly your helmet hasn’t shielded you from the memory loss that frequent concussions have clearly given you.”

“She got you there, dumb ass,” says Red Robin, a grin a mile wide on his face.

“Hood,” sighs Oracle, sounding highly stressed. Marinette decides that she is the most likeable. “Like I said earlier, we want to be on good terms with Marinette.”

“I’ll get you the documents and funds by tomorrow.” Batman’s voice is just as gravelly as the first time she contacted him. She finds that the more she hears him speak, the more pleasant she finds his voice. An acquired taste. “Even if this week is unsuccessful, the Justice League will be more than happy to continue to fund these organizations. Is there anything that Ladybug, Chat Noir, or you need personally?”

“None of us are going to use the Justice League’s funds for personal gain, Batman.” The accusations grates on her. 

“Batman means,” Nightwing shoots a look to the side of his screen. Interesting, Marinette thinks. All of Gotham’s vigilantes are in one location, judging by their backgrounds and the location tags that her communicator provides her. Perhaps they have a headquarters of some sort. Back when there were extra heroes on the Miraculous team, Marinette sometimes wished that they had a location that they could all reliably gather at without revealing someone’s identity. It certainly would have made strategy easier. “That being a hero without any support is difficult. It must have taken a toll on your personal lives. If we can aid in any way, we will. We can excuse absences or hire tutors as necessary.”

“I’m no hero.” But Nightwing’s proposal may actually be helpful. Even though Marinette is making the grades necessary to go to the colleges that she wants, her continual absence and tardies aren’t very flattering. 

Then her mind flashes to Adrien. Can she use this offer to get him out from underneath Gabriel’s thumb? Marinette doesn’t know if she can do that. He’s already in a delicate position-- and already at risk, thanks to the photoshoot earlier today-- and she’s not sure that Gabriel won’t move towards drastic measures if anything changes on Adrien’s end. If she wants to get him away from Gabriel, she may have to reveal his secret identity.

“Ladybug will make the decision for herself; she has access to everything that is said during our meetings. Chat Noir isn’t in the loop about our communications or any of the investigations that Ladybug and I have done. Ladybug says that he’s stressed in his civilian life, which is why his appearances have been decreasing,” Marinette admits. “I’ll leave it up to Ladybug to give your offer to Chat Noir. If I can get a reliable excuse to get out of class or get to class late, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“Chat Noir doesn’t know?” Red Robin sounds horrified. 

“He’s currently a high risk for being akumatized. Ladybug didn’t want to risk it.” 

Red Hood crosses his arms. “So you have more of a job than Chat Noir does in all of these Paris heroics, huh?”

Even if Chat Noir did know, Marinette would have her hand in the pie at least twice as much as him. 

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m just more available than he is.”

“And more trusted than he is,” Red Hood insists. 

It’s not that Ladybug trusts Marinette more than she trusts Chat Noir, it’s that Ladybug is Marinette. But she’s not going to admit that. Not to them, and certainly not until Hawkmoth is taken down. Maybe not even then. She can only imagine the looks of devastation that she’ll get if she does admit that she’s been Ladybug all these years. Her parents will freak out, Adrien will probably feel heart broken and betrayed, and Alya and the rest of her classmates will inevitably rail on either her or Lila or both of them. It just doesn’t sound appealing to her anymore, though she can certainly remember a time not so long ago where she so desperately wanted to expose her identity. 

“You’d have to ask Ladybug that,”  Marinette settles on. She copies and pastes one of the many messages that she has pre drafted and schedules it to send a few minutes later, so Batman’s team receives a communication from Ladybug while Marinette is at the white board. She spent all of last night preparing for this meeting, imagining so many scenarios that she barely slept. The email she’s sending will suggest what Damian should attempt to do with the Miraculous communicator that Marinette has. She adds in an extra comment that she trusts Chat Noir with her life, and that she’ll talk to him about offering him help in his civilian life, but won’t mention anything about the Justice League. 

“Why doesn’t Ladybug just use her own communicator to join in on these calls?” Red Robin asks after receiving her email.

Marinette turns from the white board, where she is listing the past three akuma attacks and where her top three suspects were at each of the times. “There may be magic surrounding her identity, but that doesn’t mean Ladybug wants more time for all of you to try to figure out her identity.”

“Sounds irresponsible of her,” says Red Hood. “Leaving a civilian to do all of the dirty work. Who are those people you have listed on the board?”

Marinette decides to let the comment about Ladybug slide. Red Hood is currently her least favorite out of all of Gotham’s vigilantes, but she has to remind herself that respect is mutual, and Ladybug hasn’t really given them much to go on.

“The top three suspects for Hawkmoth. Gabriel Agreste, the CEO and head designer of Gabriel. Nathalie Sancouer, Gabriel Agreste’s personal assistant of over twenty years. Mikael Bordeaux, CFO of Silverstein and Company's French holdings.”

Oracle takes off her glasses and wipes them. “Sounds like your top candidates are all people in pretty high positions.”

“Agreste,” repeats Nightwing. “Agreste, as in Adrien Agreste? The boy that’s in Damian’s class?”

“The same,” Marinette says, not sure she likes where he’s taking this conversation.

“Hold up,” Red Robin says after a few moments. “Why is it that Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancouer are on your list? Both Gabriel and Nathalie have been akumatized before. That should automatically take them out of the running.”

Marinette shakes her head. “That’s what I thought in the beginning, while the police were still in charge of the case. But based on my understanding of akumas, it’s very possible that Hawkmoth can transform, send out an akuma, then detransform and let themself be akumatized.”

The whole Collector incident was a deliberate ploy to throw her off. She spent at least half a year convinced that Gabriel and Hawkmoth couldn’t possibly be one in the same, despite the fact that he had the Miraculous Tome.

“What about Adrien, then? He’s the only one in your class that hasn’t been akumatized, sans yourselves, he hangs out with the people most likely to cause and become akumas, and has caused a fair number of akumas himself. Besides, he must know it if his dad’s Hawkmoth, which means he could be Mayura or even Hawkmoth himself.” Even if Red Robin presented her this theory before Marinette knew Adrien was Chat Noir, she wouldn’t have believed it. 

“Adrien is not Hawkmoth.” Marinette isn’t sure how to explain how she knows without revealing his alter ego. She can’t tell them that he wielded the snake Miraculous either, because that contradicts her earlier statement that she didn’t know any of the other holders.

“Demon Spawn,” Red Hood says. “What do you think about Adrien? You’ve been in a class with him for the past month.”

Damian finally looks up from Marinette’s tablet, blinking to bring himself back into the situation at hand. “What?”

Marinette scoffs, remembering that he thought that she was Hawkmoth. She’s not upset about it, but she doesn’t trust his ability to discern alter egos-- at least not magical alter egos. “I wouldn’t trust Damian’s ability to read people as reliable evidence to tell whether someone is Hawkmoth or not.

This causes a myriad of reactions from Batman’s team and most of them are surprisingly loud. Red Hood whoops, “Roasted,” while Red Robin laughs and pounds the desk in front of them. Oracle smiles wide, her eyes crinkling. Even Batman manages to draw a smile to his face. 

This makes Damian put down her tablet on the chaise and flush slightly. “I said I was sorry for that.”

Marinette thinks about brushing him off in annoyance but decides against it. Just based on the evidence that he gathered, it wasn't an awful assumption, and the Miraculous magic probably prevented him from even thinking about the possibility that she could be Ladybug, leading him to the next most possible conclusion. “It’s fine.”

In fact, even if Marinette can’t trust Batman and his affiliates with Chat Noir’s civilian identity, she should still try to maneuver Adrien away from his current situation. She can call it in as a personal favor to Marinette, and as long as they have human decency, they should agree to her request. She’s been gathering receipts that detail Gabriel’s systemic abuse of Adrien for years. This is a good opportunity to begin Adrien’s emancipation process. She’s currently on her way to a better friendship with Adrien, and since Batman insists the Justice League has all the resources that she wants, there’s no reason not to take advantage of them. She turns back to the camera. 

“Adrien is not Hawkmoth and wouldn’t know whether his father or personal assistant are. In fact, it would be preferable to remove Adrien from Gabriel’s care; Adrien is in danger of being akumatized because of how awfully Gabriel treats him, and I have the evidence necessary to take him to court. I just need a legal team that’s good enough to go against a billion dollar company.” And time to convince Adrien that he needs to leave. That may be a more difficult task, considering the unending love and forgiveness he’s displayed for matters concerning his father so far. Honestly, sometimes Marinette thinks that he never learned how to hold a grudge. 

“Noted. Let’s come back to that later, though. I want to talk about some other suspects you have on this list you gave us.” Oracle readjusts her headpiece and shoots a glare over her shoulder, presumably to tell the rest of her team to quiet down and get back on task. They certainly have an interesting team dynamic. They’re much warmer to each other than Marinette first expected them to be. They’re certainly closer than she and the Miraculous Team had been, when there still was a team, at least.

Oracle shares her screen. On it is a picture of Andre Bourgeois. “If Hawkmoth is able to be akumatized, then Mayor Bourgeois is one of our top suspects. The Justice League has compiled multiple lists of suspects before we sent Damian to Paris. He stopped a lot of international press for akuma attacks and has caused multiple akumas.”

Marinette frowns. Mayor Bourgeois being Hawkmoth crossed her mind a few times, but she always decided that he was largely incapable and had little motivation. “What are your criteria for deciding who might be Hawkmoth? I highly doubt Mayor Bourgeois is Hawkmoth, despite him stopping the press.”

“We determine how many akumas a person has caused, how much damage the akuma caused to the person’s primary residence and workplace, and how well they’re connected to the people being akumatized. Andre Bourgeois has been involved in the akumatization of slightly more than half of all the akumas that have occurred, so long as we include his relation to his daughter and wife and there has been extraordinary little damage done to the arrondissements that he frequents.”

“Interesting. Share the list with the contact information I sent you earlier. You share some of the same criteria as we have come up with, but you’re drawing the wrong information from what you have. Akumas caused is also one of our criteria, as well as the damage that has been done to the person’s residence. I don’t think that a person’s personal relations play much into who ends up being akumatized, however, there’s good reason to believe that Hawkmoth is in a position of power, or at least well connected. They seem to know what’s happening in the city before it ever hits the news.” Marinette opens a program on her computer, then turns on the projector to display a map with pins. 

“We’ve been interested in the location of primary suspects at the time of akumatization; Ladybug believes that Hawkmoth’s Miraculous power is restricted to Paris. Which means that Hawkmoth needs to be in or close to Paris at the times of all akumas, which crossed Mayor Bourgeois of my list a while ago. He’s been absent for multiple akumas when he needed to go to conferences outside of Paris. The purple dots are Gabriel, the red ones are Nathalie, and the blue ones are Michael. You can see that they’ve all been in Paris every time an akuma occurred and within a ten mile radius of where the akuma was first spotted. That’s quite unusual, considering they’re all in high positions of companies that should typically have them travelling.”

 There is also the little detail that Marinette found the Miraculous Tome in the hands of Gabriel Agreste, but Marinette doesn’t feel safe indulging them with that information yet. If she tells them, they will want to see pictures of the book. 

“How haven’t you cracked this case wide open yet?” Red Robin looks at the screen appreciatively. It’s clear that Marinette spent a lot of time on this.

Marinette bristles. She may have a good amount of information, but her proficiency with technology leaves much to be desired. It took her an unnecessarily long time in order to get the map up and running. “Well, Red Robin, that might have something to do with the fact that neither Ladybug nor I knew anything about how to use technology in the way that was necessary to track him once the police handed over the case in the second year. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that falsely accusing someone as Hawkmoth could ruin their entire life.”

Master Fu warned her against direct actions against anyone on her suspect list. In fact, he outright forbade her from doing anything, and although she no longer takes his words at face value after the many bumps in their relationship, she’s not going to try to ruin any of these people without evidence. Especially not Gabriel, not when he’s Adrien’s father. 

Red Robin frowns. 

Marinette takes a deep breath. She’s too tense. She’s been taking every word that these vigilantes say as something they don’t actually mean. Marinette needs to relax. Jumping to conclusions helps no one. 

Damian’s eyes are on her, and she’s sure he’s passing judgment. She needs to get out of this situation, get out of this headspace. It’s not productive or healthy. 

“I think we should end this meeting now,” Damian says, and Marinette begrudgingly agrees with him. She knows this is his olive branch.

“You were the one who was upset at the lack of time,” Oracle points out. “We don’t have much time. We need every minute we can get.” 

“Marinette has given us plenty of information to digest for one night. We’ll regroup tomorrow and start on coding the programs to determine Hawkmoth’s location.” Damian reaches over Marinette to end the call. 

Obstinately, Marinette refuses to look him in the eyes. She’s been flip-flopping this entire day, and it’s not doing any great wonders for her mental health. Everything’s been coming to a head in these past few days, and it isn’t a good feeling. She can feel the pressure on her shoulders, the expectant gazes of all of Paris to do her duty and expose Hawkmoth, but she feels the weight of the inevitable backlash Adrien will face if her theories are true. 

The past few days feel like three years compressed. People she’s never interacted with have inserted themselves into the fray, and the big leagues have pulled out all the stops. She just talked to Batman and his team. He’s been in the hero game for decades, and she’s in the room with his son, Robin. 

Everything is just too much.

Marinette feels like she’s been a bad Ladybug. Like she hasn’t done enough to find concrete evidence of her primary suspects because she is afraid of what will happen after. She’s half surprised she hasn’t gone into hysterics yet, but then again, she’s gotten very good at holding herself together when everything around her falls apart. The added touch of an outsider makes the fragile balance she’s achieved teeter.

Damian takes her distressed appearance personally and heaves a sigh. “Look, I --I didn’t think that you were Hawkmoth all along, only for a day before everything went down. I don’t know what I wanted out of you, but your friendship was nice. I did genuinely want to be friends with you, and I still do.”

This makes Marinette feel even worse. She’s trying so hard to find fault with Damian-- which is surprisingly easy-- in order to distance herself. She can’t afford to get attached to someone who can hurt her and is likely to hurt her, because an akumatized Ladybug is the last thing Paris needs. But hearing him apologize so genuinely means that Marinette can’t summon up a negative response. She may not be able to say that she truly knows Damian, but she knows that he is a very prideful person. It can’t have been easy for him to apologize to her so openly. An acidic response rests on her tongue for a moment before she pushes it back.

“You were just trying to follow up on a lead. I shouldn't blame you.” 

“But you do.”

He hit the nail on the head. Marinette grimaces, letting her eyes flick over Damian’s hunched shoulders and set jaw. She doesn’t blame him for thinking that she’s Hawkmoth, but she does blame him for getting the Justice League more involved, which makes exactly zero sense if she evaluates the situation logically. Her heart feels like Damian is the element of change; if he never arrived in Paris, Marinette would still have everything under a better semblance of control. It doesn’t matter that Batman said the JLA had been looking into Paris for half a year, and that even if Damian weren’t sent, there would have been someone else.

It’s fitting that in order to move forward, they must break down whatever security that Marinette has built into her life, because life is just cruel enough to mess her up like that. Right now, she’s a wreck mentally, emotionally, and even physically. Marinette can feel her throat closing up. 

“It’s not your fault,” she offers. “And maybe if we get out of our current situation, we can try being friends again. But right now? I-- there’s just too much stress on me, right now.”

Damian understands this, but as he descends the steps of her ladder, Damian can’t help but wish that she felt otherwise.

Omake

“How is it that Mayor Bourgeois is not in your top three suspects for Hawkmoth? He’s stopped a lot of international press about the akuma for the first year!”

Marintte deadpans. “Honestly? The man is way too stupid to ever be Hawkmoth.”

“Haven’t we come to the conclusion that Hawkmoth is stupid though? He couldn’t steal jewelry from two untrained teenagers for years!”

Marinette decides not to take offense at that, and concedes. “Fine, maybe he should be on the list. I’d certainly akumatize Chloe and Audrey Bourgeois if I had to interact with them on a daily basis.”

_______________________________________________________

will these be regularly scheduled? absolutely not, even though i have the whole thing finished because i get the feeling that i am going to Change Things sooner or later (somebody please smack some sense into me everything in this story goes awfully very soon and the plot goes wonky and AHHHH)

[bowtied-pasta]

I know you would have prefered anon, so I did it for you! 🤗

I went back and forth with @creepy-bi-day about this exact thing because I am a simp for this dude, so I will be partially using an idea that we talked about together.

Noah panics as he makes another god awful loop on the boardwalk from hell and is faced with the Observer standing there, about 20 feet away.

He waves and begins slowly walking toward him, an unnerving smile on his face as he begins to laugh.

Noah startles and starts to move backward, not taking his eyes off of the creep as he gets ready to bolt, until the being drops. Fainting and hitting the boardwalk as the world around them seems to waiver, like the heat you can see coming off of a surface in summer.

His head starts to hurt the longer he continues to stare at it, and he has to shut his eyes, his body feeling out of place and unwelcome as the world around him gave way.

Until it stopped, and he cracked open an eye to see that the world looked normal. He was out.

He laughed as he couldnt believe his eyes. Walking forward as he heads toward the parking lot where he’d hopefully still find his car, until he realizes that the Observer was still laying on the boardwalk infront of him.

He freezes, waiting for movement, and flinches as the being groans. Working to make his way up into a sitting position. Looking around at his surroundings and freezing once his eyes land on him.

“Uh..... Hi. Would you mind telling me who I am?” He says, and his head tilts a bit to the side, confusion apparent and eyes wide.

Noah fumbles. What the fuck do you mean you dont know who you are? Theres no way this could be.... theres no way he has one.

He laughs as he stumbles away from you, shaking his head in disbelief at the luck he had. The Observers soulmate, that bastards soulmate, right here in front of him. And they had no idea what was going on. How perfect could this be?

The person infront of him stood slowly, taking a cautious step toward him. “Are you okay?”

Noah recovers quickly, knowing he would miss his chance if he didnt pull himself together and do what he needed to do. “Ahaha.... yeah. Im good. Its just... weve both been waiting for this kind of thing to happen. Just didnt expect it now. Gave me a heart attack when... Kevin.... dropped like that. Thought I was gonna have to call 911 or something.”

The stranger infront of him seems to accept this as truth, good. He can get them to trust him faster if they were gullible. Better to keep them out of the loop. That way, he can find the location of a possibly depowered Observer, and take advantage of his vulnerable form.

This is, of course, assuming the Observers powers were bound to his chosen form. Its the best shot hes had all this time and he’d be damned if he didnt take it though.

“Alright... and you said his name is Kevin? Good to know. Well, we can head to mine so we can go back to our own bodies. Or, if thats inconvienient for you, we can just wait wherever this is-“

“No,” he cuts them off. Setting his horribly thought out plan into motion. “We can head to yours. Faster that way. He always had a horrible sense of time and direction.”

They give a small nod, taking the information easily, not having any reason not to trust the man infront of them. ��Cool. We can head that way whenever. I’m... not really sure where we are, but I know my address. Of course. So I can just enter it in the gps and we can go off of that.”

“Sounds good. Just gotta stop by my place for a few things and we can go.” He says as he moves in the direction of his car once more, moving a bit faster than normal.

You sigh, the form of your soulmate an odd thing to experience first-hand. Nothing could have really prepaired you for what waking up in another persons body would entail, but you were just glad you would be able to get back to your own body soon. That is, if your soulmates friend, Noah, would hurry up and get out of his house.

You were shocked when he finally did, revealing he had cleaned himself up and was carrying a bag. Locking up his house and looking around multiple times before getting back in the car.

“Was getting worried for a second there, thought I would have to come get you.” You laugh a bit, trying to lighten his mood as he appeared to be anxious for one reason or another.

He was silent as he put his bag next to him on the floor of the drivers seat. An odd place to put it, and it was probably uncomfortable, but who were you to judge.

He pauses to look over at you, seeming to contemplate his answer before starting the car. “Uh.... yeah. Sorry for taking so long, just had to make sure everything was still okay. I actually havent been to my place for awhile. Family stuff.”

You take the information easily, nodding your head to his words as he starts to drive, following the gps commands to turn.

You wake up as the car comes to a complete stop, and being turned off. You gues you had fallen asleep during the drive over and now felt bad for Noah. You look out the windows at your neighborhood, a cloudy night making everything appear dark and ominous, but being familiar with the area you felt nothing but comfort with the view.

“Oh good, we made it to my place. Im sorry I fell aslee-“ you cut yourself off as you turn to look at Noah. Finding a gun pointed directly at your head.

“Get out of the car.”

You freeze as your hand slowly moves toward the handle of your door, unbuckling yourself with your other hand.

You stumble out of the car, mind still on autopilot as you watch Noah get out of the car, walking around it to grab you and position the gun closer to your head.

“Im sorry. Im sure youre a great person, but it has to happen this way.” He says as he forces you to walk toward your front door, waiting for you to unlock it and open it, taking a cautious step inside and closing the door behind him with his foot omce you both make it in.

He backs himself up to the door, grabbing you and keeping you secured to him with one arm while his other hand holds the gun to your head. “Come out you fucker! Its time!”

You wait in silence, tears streaming down your face as you begin processing just exactly what was going on. And you crying become audible as you see your soulmate walk around the corner in your body. Face blank with boredom, as if expecting this occurance and taking it in stride. Like he had planned for this.

“Well, Noah. What exactly do you plan to get out of this? You know I cant be killed.” You hear your voice say, your body taking a step closer and setting Noah off.

Noah whips the gun toward your soulmate, making you unfreeze and grab his arm. Moving it away from your soulmate, and causing Noah to misfire. The bullet going into your wall.

“NO!” And with that, he seems to disappear. His grasp on you having gone loose before he did, and he had seemingly been trying to keep solid contact with you.

“Well. That was interesting. Cant wait to play with him myself, but that will have to do for now.” You turn to look at your soulmate again, feeling odd to look at your own body like this, and feeling confusion and awe.

“I.... what was that? Where did he go? Why did he want you dead? Is your name even Kevin? Who are you really?” Questions just kept spilling out of your mouth, one after the other, until he got tired of it apparently.

He moves toward you, his hand grabbing yours as your faces are brought close together. His free hand under your chin, keeping eye contact with you as he does so. You never thought your eyes could be so pretty to look at, but then again, you had never seen them as a different person before.

“Close your eyes, little one, youre very likely to faint again.” As he says this, he closes the distance and seals your change back with a kiss.

[bigsquinky]

quick sketches from a shapiro and mulligan alien au ::3c i wrote something too for this scene. I dont write stuff very often so its rough but i will put it under the cut here

the storage corridor was dimly lit, sparks from exposed wires lighting the way down the destroyed passage. the alamanium steel doors were crushed, thrust open unnaturally with an inhuman force that rendered them useless. all the  way down to the end, large dents and ruptures could be seen along the walls, identical to the ones leading back down the main hall. 

 Shapiro was not happy. Not happy at all 

 she had been away for just a moment, something to do with confirmation for a shipment or going over some trivial documents, nothing out of the ordinary of what usually happened during the day. a lot was expected of her, but there was no way she could supervise training cadets, overseeing daily maintenance, and everything else in their quadrant of the ship. she was only gone for the smallest moment, but thats all that was needed for everything to go wrong. a large crash echoed from the training bay, followed by the audible screaming of a few cadets, as well as, oddly enough, the odd roars of cheering. 

whatever ruckus had occurred while she was gone left the bay in shambles, large craters on the ceiling and the walls, lights and equipment broken, everything would have to be replaced, everything brought back to code. it was going to be a bureaucratic nightmare. oh, and that one cadet would have to be taken to the emergency wing. but he was the least of Shapiros worries at the moment, he would be fine anyways, Grutians were known to be virtually indestructible, if anything, only his pride was wounded. 

No, Shapiro's worries were down that busted up supply hall, and as the appointed quadrant manager, she needed to bring everything back to efficiency quickly, before more reports would be required. A large group of cadets and employees gathered behind her in the hall, all murmuring in fright and surprise at what was happening. Shapiro clicked at her belt and put a regulatory protection field between her and the crowd, preventing them from moving any closer into the supply hall. the frantic chattering of a cockroach in a labcoat was heard coming closer to the scene of the mess, as O'Reilly banged on the field, his muffled pleas to Shapiro to wait for an armoured squad fell on deaf ears. It was her responsibility, and this mess was going to be fixed, even if she had to make another one.

She made her way down that hall, mentally preparing herself for the struggle that could happen. From day one, that cadet only got in trouble, and caused her trouble. She thought that keeping him on probation would solve at least some of her problems. its not like he was doing any of this on purpose, but this Cadet Mulligan seemed to attract trouble wherever he went. It was everyone else that seemed to have problems with him, stemming from eons old beliefs in superstitions that beings like him were considered cursed, or biological mistakes. she at least knew how it felt to be looked down upon, being Atharian meant that from birth she had to work harder than most to even get to where she was now, but she still had more of a privilege than the cadet did, even if he was half Arachnian. But because Shapiro worked so hard and gave up so much to get where she was, it jsut meant it could be torn away from her so much easier, her higher ups were just waiting for her to fail, giving her all of this work knowing full well not even the most able of commanders could not  complete what she managed to in a day, and she knew it. Despite all her successes, all she needed was one slip up, and it could come crumbling down beneath her. She could not afford to show weakness in a time like this, not again. not ever. she reached the end of the hall, and pushed the big storage room door open

to say it was a mess was an understatement. Shapiro could barely creak the door open enough to squeeze through with the large shelf of various supplies toppled over in disarray. the only light in the room from the working emergency lights lit the clutter in a dim, cold blue light. She quietly navigated the maze of toppled over supplies and stock, taking expert caution to make her presence in the room unknown. if one did not know about the events leading up to this mess, one would assume the ship had made course through an asteroid belt. Shapiro's pointed ears perked up as she finally heard the source of her troubles. Mulligan was there

Shrouded in the darkness, he was hard to make out. Shapiro squinted, as hard as the emergency lights tried to do their job, they were beyond overdue for repair after the beating they took today. What she could make out of his figure however, broke Shapiro into a cold sweat. Finally, she clued into the seriousness of the situation she put herself into, wishing in the back of her mind that she did listen to O'Reilly, although she would never admit he was right if she ever got out of here

Even though he was sitting, he towered over her, his head short of hitting the ceiling. the once recognizable Atharian frame that he had donned was gone, instead a colossal figure grunted and snarled, writhing in confusion as his he tried in vain to reconstruct himself. he panted heavily, clutching his head with two large arms, while four other appendages scratched at his body and braced himself to the steel storage case. Mulligan twisted and contorted but to no avail, a large fist slammed into the wall behind him, leaving a large dent. Shapiro silently stared petrified, her breath ragged. She attempted to shuffle herself backwards and out of there without being noticed, a hand moving slowly to her belt for a plasma taser, in case she needed to defend herself, but instead she misstepped, her foot knocking a small provisions can into a panel, causing the latter to reverberate, and her presence to be known

Mulligan stopped and jerked his head unnaturally towards the sound, breathing heavily, his face partially blocked by his arm. Shapiro froze, and their eyes locked. Mulligan's expression changed from a look of fury, to distress, as he let out a booming cry. he shifted back into the dark as far as he could go, his back against the wall. His breathing was rapid, with a look of horror on his face, it was like he was a scared animal backed into a corner. Crying out in a foreign tongue, what sounded like a plethora of backwards wailing to Shapiro, Mulligan's arms frantically moved into a defensive position, and attempted to cover his face. He continued to wail as Shapiro got off the floor and steadied herself, cautiously moving closer towards the creature. Mulligan tried in vain to move further back and away, but he could not move anymore, his large form made it impossible to break out of this corner. His breathing quickened, and his speech became broken and more unintelligible as he choked back tears. He violently flinched as Shapiro brought up her hand to her scouter, combing through old catalogues of alliance data to find translation as to what the cadet was saying. The scouter laboured for what seemed to be an eternity before it made a cheerful beep as it finally calculated a basic translation of the cacophony. Mulligan continued to cry out in panic as Shapiro finally read what he had been saying this whole time

" GO AWAY! AWAY FROM ME! MONSTER! AM MONSTER!"

the script had scrolled across the screen multiple times as Shapiro stood there in silence. Mulligan closed his eyes as he continued to shake and repeat the devastating message. His fingers dug deep into his face as all the sounds around him started turning into static, letting out one last painful cry before he quickly stifled himself in a swift jolt. His eyes shot open, his breathing ragged, as he looked down and saw a small purple hand lightly touching at his knee

Shapiro sat up tall, facing away from Mulligan with her hand on him, her three fingers slightly stroking and patting his thigh. He brought a quivering hand down, dwarfing her hand as he gently brought it into his. Shapiro continued to look straight forward, as Mulligan's breathing slowed and became controlled, his shoulders relaxed, and he slowly leaned forward away from the wall, and the two sat in silence

She waited a while, before she finally spoke. "Mulligan, what happened?" He sat there. Shapiro repeated herself in the same unwavering but quiet tone. "Mulligan, what happened?" Mulligan swallowed, his entire body still shivering. "It-It-It happened so fast, I couldn-couldn't stop- I just-" "Mulligan, what happened in the training bay while I was gone?" Shapiro didnt want to escalate things, but she had to get Mulligan to talk before a security squad busted through that temporary field. Mulligan stammered. "It-it-it was Giraldi. He came up to me, saying it was my fault he was taken off the scouting mission. He-he slammed me against the wall, I didnt do nothin', I just took it until-" He paused "-'til he brought up YOU." "Me?" Shapiro finally turned slowly to look up at mulligan, the faint blue glow partly illuminating his face. His expression darkened, his fangs were bared and a low growl escaped his lips. "He  said shit that was deplorable, about Atharians, about you, that it was beneath him as a Grutian to take orders from a bug. Disgusting shit about what he could do and no one would stop him, and he called you, he called you a-" Mulligan's grip on Shapiro's hand tightened. She let out a small yelp as Mulligan gasped and pulled his hand away "IM SORRY!! Im sorry-im so sorry i-". Shapiro grabbed his hand with both of hers this time. She looked at him intently, her spots glowing faintly revealed the makings of a pained expression, the first time she had bared any resemblance of feelings to anyone since that time. She took his hand and rested her forehead on it, as Mulligan's breathing calmed down. Mulligan exhaled. "Af-After that, I lost it. i lost control, i could only see red as i flung him around that room. When i remembered what was happening and where i was, I freaked out and ran off here. I got, so scared that what happened last time was gonna happen again, i had to calm down fast, but i couldnt! i was still so upset about everything, and then-" He stopped. He turned his head to look at Shapiro, his purple, polycoria eyes the only thing visible in the shadows. "Im so sorry, Lieutenant Commander"

Shapiro closed her eyes, and exhaled, still keeping her grip on Mulligan's hand. "Whats done is done, Cadet. We cant change that. I dont know what will be decided by the Commander, or if a higher council will be brought in but-" She smiled slightly "- i thank you for standing up for me, Mulligan" She felt Mulligan's hand shrink in her own, and felt the growth of another finger, until it finally slowed, and he locked his fingers with hers. She looked up at him, his form back to that of a fake Atharian, and a tired smile on his face. His two eyes, once four, while displaying no signs of his metamorph mutation, are slightly red. "Thank you Shapiro." She smiled back. "Dont thank me just yet, someone will have to clean up this entire mess!" Mulligan chuckled, and the both of them walked out of the storage hall, still holding each others hands.

[flatorangecat]

I didn’t know what to name this so it won’t have a title. Just a warning this includes some spoilers for DeltaRune, as it is in the perspective of someone who has just completed the pacifist run of the game. Not really meant for anything, just a snip of story.

It seemed like so long since you had last seen the surface. Susie turned to you, reflecting your own confusion as the two of you stood amongst the discarded games of playing cards, blocks, and chess pieces. The day had been long enough fighting to maintain the balance of light and darkness within the word, but discovering the whole thing may have only been a dream weighed on your shoulders even more.

Even so, the two of you decided to head home, as the sun danced low along the horizon and you didn’t want your mother to worry. You weren’t sure how the passage of time worked between this world and the other, but you were sure by the sunset as you strolled through town that about half a day had elapsed as you took your adventure. It had been a while since you went through the routine, so out of curiosity you stopped at every establishment to reintroduce yourself to the locals before finding your way back home.

Some things hadn’t changed, familiar faces revealed themselves, though not in the same context as before. Others didn’t change, like the good ‘ol Librarby that sat a block away from your school. Burger pants seemed to recognize you immediately, raising your hopes slightly. At first you thought he remembered you - the real you, from before- but he deviated to talk about Asriel and the past you two shared growing up together with the king and queen. No talk of previous jobs or fancy dancing robots who made him sell burgers adorned with edible sequins (though after stopping at the diner you realized those still existed). You were still the only one whose consciousness persisted through the timelines. Despite how many times they changed, you were still you.

Sadness began to pull at your soul the more you listened to the townsfolk relay their stories. Some relationships blossomed, whereas others you knew were meant to be together didn’t even know the other existed. You quickened your pace until you came across what looked like a familiar establishment a street up from your house. It almost looked like Grillby’s, but all the letters had been scribbled over the abandoned building with graffiti save for the ‘S’ at the end. Instead, the letter remained to help spell a new word, a name- Sans.

Your soul jumped a little, remembering one of your previous encounters with Sans. The morbidly curious aspect of yourself had gotten the better of you, leading you astray from the true path and straight down the road to mass genocide. Sans was the only one who seemed to understand the anomalies, and partially how you seemed to be connected with them. If there was anyone other than you who could remember times from before, it would be him. Aside from the first fallen child, that is. After spacing out at the sign for a moment to recount that, you half smiled when you recognized a small skeleton lounging on the front steps of the boarded up building.

“Hey, long time no see.” You commented. Sans gave you a blank stare with his quinticential toothy grin.

“hey buddy. think you might have the wrong person, we’ve never met before. my bro and i just moved into town here.” You fought back the burning sensation that began to build behind your eyes. Not even he knew what was going on.

“Right.. I- I thought you would remember me is all. Sorry.” Instead of continuing the awkward conversation you turned to leave, actually heading for home this time to bury your head under the covers of the mess you call a bed. A voice called out from behind you to wait a minute so you reluctantly turned around.

“am i supposed to know you?” Sans asked, expressing genuine concern and confusion across his skull. You bit the inside of your lip briefly.

“Yeah. You’re supposed to know asriel, and my mom-“

“of course i know your mom, i was aquatinted with her last night.” He laughs and gives you a wink. You clench your fists.

“Sans I’m being serious! You dont even know who I am. And it’s just.. frustrating. But I’m guess I’m expecting too much, aren’t I. Try to change the timelines again, convince Chara to help open the barrier so the other children would be spared, but at what cost is it for everyone else’s lives to practically be ruined?” Sans began to advance towards you, arms outstretched as if that could calm you down.

“it looks like this is a pretty nice town, the people here seem happy.” Your eyes narrow are you snap to him.

“How closely are you looking? Besides, in this timeline you don’t even know anyone other than your brother so how would you expect to understand what’s going on. I thought there was more to you but in reality you’re just another one of them. Another part of the game that I changed.” A guilt formed a pit in your stomach. You didn’t mean to go off on sans, but that had been the last straw to break your back. He meant so much you you, your friendship, your relationship, was now meaningless. You sank down to the ground, drained of energy. Sans placed a hand on your back tentatively to rub small circles.

“‘m sorry, didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

“You can’t help it. It’s fine.” You shrugged out of his grasp and set course for home finally. Maybe getting some sleep would help you forget this confusing nightmare. Maybe it would help clear your mind before you impulsively reset again. After greeting your mom at the door you strode straight to your room, kicked off your shoes, and threw the covers over your head before nodding off recounting the curious new characters you met earlier.

—————-

You woke with a start, struggling about trying to find the edge of your blankets. Something was cutting off your air flow, making it impossible to sleep, let alone breathe. When you finally got out from under the covers you realized it wasn’t something, but someone instead. The force on your soul tightened as you focused on it, causing you to double over onto the floor and clutch at your chest. As if by instinct, your body began to move on its own. The hand that clutched your chest dug tighter and tighter into the skin, pain nearly blinding you until you saw a flash of red. You realized too late you weren’t in control any more.

Suddenly the perspective changed and you were thrown against something cold and hard. You tried to look around but your senses had been clouded. Colors surrounded you, but no distinguishable features could be found. The sound of screeching metal clued you in that you somehow wound up in the old birdcage on the corner of your room. Only your pain radiated through the darkness, not even the silence could comfort you. Just then a voice spoke- your voice. Except you weren’t speaking.

“Oh how long has it been since I inhabited this body. I have to say, you did a good job of keeping it warm for me.” Your thoughts buzzed with frustration. A chill ran down your now nonexistent spine as you realized who this was. They acknowledged your shift in emotion.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you. Think you’ll find this spot nice and cozy for some time while I take this baby out for a test drive. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

You did mind, actually.

“Great. Well, if youll excuse me,” there was a faint scraping sound as they pulled something out and laughed. “I have some unfinished business to attend to.” Footsteps sounded as Chara exited the room, leaving you alone in your thoughts. You tried to cry out and warn everyone, even though they weren’t the same ones you knew from before, you still cared about them. You still wanted to warn them about the dangers that lay ahead. But nothing happened. All you could do was sit there, alone, in the cage, until you could figure a way to take your body back from the one who stole it in the previous life.

[plusultrachaos]

i sometimes wish id never been born at all

prompt: dan, one day, wishes hed never been born. he is then visited by a "ghost" (another youtuber) who shows dan everybodys lives if he was never born. dan doesnt believe that anything is worse off until they show phils life which is simply a gravestone.

A/N: i did change somethings from the prompt. i also envisioned the prompt as something similar to the Scrooge.

word count: 2113

genre: angst and if you squint fluff

tw: there are mentions and a viewing of two suicides (the viewing is against dans will  and is only on one of two suicides) there are mentions of depression and bullying. if this is something that could trigger, harm, or cause you pain of any kind, i recommend not reading this oneshot.

________________

its one of dans bad days. its one of the bad days where hes trying to be social, at least talk to phil some, maybe a bit of action on social media, before his inevitable departure from society and hopefully his own exsistance for a little while.

while hes browsing on said social media, he feels phil leaning toward him and picking something from under dans eye, pulling his hand away to reveal a small, thick eyelash.

"howd you even notice that, phil?" his voice was soft, fond, and holding no surprise at phils ability to notice the little details.

"make a wish and i might tell you." phil wore a teasing smile as he failed to wink, the corners of his mouth crinkling, showing the smile wrinkles that had developed as the years of their friendship passed.

'i wish i were never born' was the wish dan had made, he wanted to go hide away, hide the wish hed made in his brain to echo there for hours. everybodys lives would be better, easier, if he hadnt been born in the first place, all the haters wouldnt have to hate him in the first place. phil would probably be further in life. his family wouldnt have him as a disappointment.

"i have to go to my room." he looked at phil, whos face was still in  sort of close proximity to his own face. he didnt say why, or what he was going to do once in there, but phil knew him well enough to understand why the younger man had been quiet the entirety of him being up and out of his room, why he hadnt laughed at a single funny thing that phil had shown him.

"okay. remember to drink water and come out of there when you need food, okay?" phils eyes held the usual, useless, concern that dan knew phil didnt actually feel. dan wasnt worth the concern and he definitely did not deserve the concern or a friend like phil at all.

he nodded, knowing that if phil didnt actually see dan out of the room to get food or water, hed personally bring the food and drink to dan. dan got up and numbly left the lounge for his room. he left his laptop there, knowing he wouldnt need it the next few days or so.

he collapsed on his bed, his thoughts going on about him being worthless and a disappointment, along with other degrading things. he turned his phone off, setting it on his nightstand. he curled up into a ball and became even more numb to the world. when he fell asleep? dan wouldnt have been able to tell you.

when dan woke up, it felt weird. it felt like what his lucid dreams used to feel like when  hed been a kid. he also didnt feel as he did when he assumed hed fallen asleep, furthuring the feeling of this being weird and unusual. well, those things, and the youtube god himself, pewdiepie, or felix as hed told dan and phil to call him when theyd met up in the past, standing at the end of dans bed.

"felix? why are you in my room?" he was slightly creeped out. he only ever really saw felix at youtube events anymore, and even then, it wasnt much.

"i know who this felix person is, but i am not him. i am the ghost of youtubers past." felix, or rather the ghost, said, the voice was eerily similar to felix' and it creeped dan out further. "recently, youve wished for something along the lines of never being born at all, am i correct to say this?"

"yeah, but hold up, why in bloody hell are you in my -me and phils- flat? howd you even get in?" dan looked confused, he was staying as far as he possibly could be from felix, or the ghost or whatever the fuck it was, which meant he was huddled against the headboard of his bed. "what has my stupid eyelash wish have got to do with any of this?"

"daniel, im here to show you how your friends and family would have really been if you hadnt been born. you see, your thoughts after the wish, about everybody being better off without you, were mostly wrong. your family, that thought, was the only one that was partially correct. yes, if they didnt have you as their son, all of the things that you think they think of you would disappear, but they would have still had two children. your grandma wouldve been just as close with them as she was to you." then suddenly, at the end of the ghosts words, dans room transformed, his fairylights  and comfortable bed morphing into something else. all dan could do was watch.

his surroundings had changed into a huge decorated and lit up christmas tree with wrapped gifts underneath. there were two children, a teenaged girl and a younger boy, perhaps a toddler, pulling at a christmas cracker. when the young boy ended up getting the bigger end of the game, the older sister said "happy christmas!" with fondness that made dans heart ache. the siblings looked close, and happy. happier than dan and his younger brother had been at those ages.  it made dan long for that kind of relationship with the lad. it also brought a bitter taste and thoughts to dan. the girl, for obvious reasons, wasnt dan. their mannerisms very  different, her smile lacking a dimple.

"yazzy, go help your mum in the kitchen." an old woman, that dan immediately recognized as his (or rather not his) grandma, walked in to the room. he hadnt visited the kind, aging woman in years, and seeing this made him feel guilty.

he turned to the ghost, tears forming and wetting his eyes. "can we leave? i already knew i was insignificant in their lives." he said this, his voice small as he looked away from the scene playing out before him. the ghost nodded and then they were in a different location once again.

it was his friend, louises current home. but it was empty, no baby toys or anything in the flat hed gotten used to being busy.

"louises success mightve been all her, but you helped in the process, being there when she needed a friend. she didnt have darcy because she never met her partner." the ghost said this with a grim look. dan looked around, sad eyes gazing everywhere. it was then he realized he hadnt rung up louise in weeks.

"fuck..." was dans whispered response to the situation.

the location faded again, taking them to a park. pj sat on the bench in front of dan and the ghost. he was talking to people that dan didnt recognize. "pj and chris never became a couple because you werent there to help them realize their feelings for each other." dan looked down at the ghosts words. they stung, knowing his friends hadnt gotten together just because dan hadnt been born.

" and chris? what would his fate have been if id never been around?" the ghost pointed at a man walking behind them, talking on the phone. he didnt spare pj a single look.

"without your constant encouragement, he dropped youtube. he got an office job and quickly climbed the ranks." the words sounded sad.

the location changed yet again, to a sight he never wanted to see again. they were in an unfamiliar bedroom, it was dark and there was an even darker silhouette hanging from a ceiling fan. dan feared the worst. the sight of it made dan want to curl into a ball. there was pounding on the closed door.

dan watched in silence, mouth open in a silent cry as the parents of the silhouette opened the door. the mother fell into the fathers arms, crying loudly. the father was frozen, terror shining in his eyes as he took in the sight of the cold and lifeless body. the  room faded into a plain, white room that had no soothing qualities to dan.

"that was ben. in a world with you in it, he would have found the courage to come out as a transmale and gay. without you, he never learned of his parents acceptance. he wouldve committed suicide if not for your videos." the ghost said this softly, its eyes sad. "this is the sad reality of the fans. some are not in good situations and so they turn to youtube for an escape. without your videos, a lot of fans dont have that escape." dans face grew even more sad as he realized that had been the same reality that he had faced before becoming a youtuber.

"and phil? what would have happened to him?" this question had been on his mind the entire time they had been in this weird dreamland. the ghosts already sad face saddened even more and the scenery changed once again.

dan looked confused as his eyes wondered around the area. they were in a graveyard in the middle of the day. except dan couldnt see any services being held that phil wouldve attended.

"where is he? why are we in a graveyard?" his questions were frantic as he continued searching for the wonderous blue-yellow-green eyes and the dyed black hair of his best friend. then his gaze landed on the gravestone of the grave they were in front of. he dropped to his knees, his face blank as he read the stone.

Here lies

Philip Michael Lester

January 30th, 1987-June 22nd, 2012

He was loved dearly by fans, friends, and family.

"phil didnt have a number one fan to skype him to take his mind off his problems, to correct him when he thought of how weird he was and how weird everybody was bound to think of him."

"unique. phil is unique, not weird." dan corrected without hesitation.

"that is what i mean when i say that. he didnt have somebody to do that when youtube comments started telling him he was weird. he didnt have someone to be an iconic duo with. he killed himself when it all got to be too much." the ghost went quiet after telling that to dan, most likely letting the man grieve his best friend.

dan had started sobbing loudly. "n...no no no. take me home, this cant be real, this is not real." he whimpered, his eyes were screwed shut as he sobbed over the possibility of his optimistic, cheery best friend taking his life. he missed the transformation of the landscape, still sobbing loudly by the time hed been back in the comfort of his bedroom.

the ghost was no longer there and there was loud knocking. and to dans relief, phil called out his name with concern that dan was now certain was genuine. phil came in, rushing to the side of the monochrome bed to take the brown haired crying man into his arms. he knew better than to ask what was wrong right away, so he just held him.

"phil, promise me you wont believe people when they say hateful things toward you?" he asked this in a panicked rush, his words stuttered as he looked with terrified eyes at phil.

" i promise." phil held dan close, the sound of his heartbeat tethering dan to reality.

"i had a dream." dan proceeded to tell phil about what hed wished and then about the dream he had afterward. when he was done, phil held him. dan was still crying, but it had subsided a lot with the knowledge of phil being alive. "im sorry, phil. i know i shouldnt have wished for something so morbid and sad, but it was before an episode and i cant control my thoughts during those." he cuddled to phils chest, sniffling.

" dan, you know i love you. you know im always going to be here to support and comfort you." phils voice was soft and supportive, deep unlike what the viewers usually heard. "you dont have to apologize at all for the way your brain works, just like i dont. im glad you realized that that wasnt real, but i dont want you thinking that i wouldve been better off without you because i wouldnt be as far as i am today if i didnt have you by my side. dont ever tell yourself otherwise." he smiled his amazing smile that was saved just for dan.

dan leaned into phils chest, breathing in the comforting scent.   he sighed as he realized that life would be better with him and phil still alive.

____________________

i did end up mentioning dans family, but i only did briefly dont hate me.

[vileart]

Believers are but Dramaturgy: Javaad Alipoor @ Edfringe 2017

Javaad Alipoor presents: 

The Believers Are But Brothers 

A sharp, compelling and interactive new work merging stories of extremism, fantasy, reality and the digital age to examine a crisis in masculinity.

EDINBURGH FRINGE PREMIERE

Part of Northern Stage at Summerhall, Tech Cube, 5 - 26 August 2017, 12:45 (13:45), 12+

Press preview: Thursday 3 August, 11:00 (12:00)

This urgent, multi-layered performance blends storytelling with the lure of digital technology, enveloping audiences in a world of encrypted instant messaging, webcam footage, online gaming and forums, to explore what drives men towards online and real world extremism.

My name is Javaad Alipoor, I made the show Believers Are But Brothers

The inspiration behind the performance was first and foremost the online presence of radical and so-called “extremist” groups like ISIS, and increasingly some of the far right.  I was really interested in how this online presence, fits into the rest of the internet, and its relationship to other ways in which the digital screen woks like a screen to project fantasies of masculinity onto.  

I wanted to find a way to play around with these ideas; how our bodies and spirits are shaped by what we repeatedly do online, and the lens of masculinity and political extremism, gave me a way to hang this on quite a big political question.

I think performance is a really crucial space for certain kinds of public discussion.  I think its often easiest to start with what kind of public discussion its not for.  I dont think performance is hugely useful in terms of pedagogy or education (saving a handful of really great TIE companies), and I dont think its at its best when it is about theatre as activism or an attempt to “change peoples minds”.  

I think TV and other mediums are better at that; partially because of the more passive nature of the audience experience, and the relation of that passivity to a deficit model of knowledge, and partly because of the much greater audience reach.   

This can be a really important thing (e.g. how the Superman radio series helped to bring the KKK down in the US in the 30s), but its not something we as theatre makers do best.  

But I do think there is another model of theatre in the public space as discussion, that probably owes as much to Brecht as it does to Artuad, which is about the specificity of what performance can do.  In that sense I think theatre’s role as the art that contributes to implication, provocation and revealing the sometimes invisible ties that already bind us is absolutely necessary to be focused on.

 Its what makes theatre specific.

I became interested in making performance as a kid really.   Its a horrendous cliche but Ive always really felt that capacity of story telling, music and elevated speech to hold a group of people, and to get things across to them, to have some sort of affective relationship with them, that regular speaking doesn’t.

 I had a play around with some theatre stuff at university, but whilst I had fun, I didn't really belong in that student drama scene, I felt very different in regards, ethnicity, social class, accent and so on.  After a few years doing more music, I came across the Asian Theatre School, and initiative funded by ACE at the time that supported BME emerging artists in Yorkshire, and got involved.

This show doesn't really fit my usual productions, as Im not usually a performer.  I tend to follow a writer/director way of doing things.  I begin with workshops and R&D often with community participants, and devise stories and material around a central theme or story idea.  We then tend to make the show with a mixed company of professionals and participants.With this show I had to find a different model becuase I wanted it to tour more extensively, so I found a co-director, and performed in it, taking the really cool ultra small scale work artists like Chris Thorpe and Selena Thompason are making as a jumping off point.

I want the audience to experience two things; the power and potential of the technologies and connections that we use every day, the way they shape us and our society; and the profound closeness and “hereness” of the biggest political international questions we face.  

I suppose the strategies I use to tray and shape this audience experience are in text, and in dramaturgy.  I try and use text to develop a language which moves from a more naturalistic place to something more heightened, whilst making it hints at the fundamental dramaturgical metaphor which will bring the crux of the moment of implication to light.   Set against a political stage where the old world orders are collapsing, The Believers are But Brothers is the product of hours spent diving into an online world of extremists, police spies and fantasists. The piece scours the darkest corners of the web and delves into the minds of a generation of young men immersed in the online world whose actions are no longer confined to their desktops. Exploring the words and imagery employed by extremists across the political spectrum, fantasy becomes reality as young men travel to join ISIS, whole digital armies target prominent feminists online (Gamergate) and the dangerous anonymity of the internet takes form on doorsteps and the streets. As Javaad explains, “I noticed that the propaganda pictures and the way online activ- ists pushed forward the views of groups like ISIS seemed very far from the way that the media had been talking about them; their aesthetic and language was all about Game Of Thrones, Assassin’s Creed and Call of Duty. What drew me in was the feeling that a lot of the most ’extreme’ political views, that we usually feel are quite far away from us, can be instantly accessed through mobile phones and laptops. As someone who grew up Muslim, I wanted to refract and retell these stories in the context that I think is crucial: that of a generation of young men undergoing a crisis of masculinity and meaning, and seeking a two dimensional fantasy version of themselves to give their lives meaning.” Javaad Alipoor is a writer and director, and sometimes performer. He is associate director at Theatre in the Mill, Bradford, resident associate director at Sheffield Theatres and the director of theatre company Northern Lines. His work comes from discussions and workshops with communities that don’t usually engage with mainstream theatre.

from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2pRE5wT

[thestrugglezxcs-blog]

WEEK 7

A new week, a new day! Let’s hope we can finish thisNew ideas:

1. A wall blocks the user from seeing “the other user” behind the wall. This represents isolation and the act of wearing a mask.  When users walk past, he would be able hear “the other user” talking and  would reply saying hello?. “the other user” behind the wall would pause for a while and say “oh i didn’t know anyone would hear me”. Their conversation goes on till “oh don’t worry about me, you won’t have to till i’m gone”. (conversation is fully recorded and implied into the artefact, no manpower needed when on display)  Just the  sentence itself gives the user the creeps and would want the user to do something  about it. But since users know this conversation won’t continue, users can pin  notes of encouragement on the walls to show that everyone can help to impact his life. Users can then hashtag their conversation or story to share the unknown but scary story of depression. Experimentation:

Kinds of replies users will give

Voices that sound harmless but approachable

Other than wall, what else can be a form of separation?

What will attract them to go over from afar

2. Masks hanging from a ceiling, it’s pure white. In every eye of the mask would be different words describing what it is like falling into depression. The deeper the person walks in, the deeper they go into depression. (eg, outer layer: fault, middle layer: terror, last layer: death). Users can hashtag to share their story with a mask blocking their face or partially “taken off”

Taking inspiration from this

3. People with depression easily put on a mask every single day in fear of being misunderstood. However those that are sad usually make it known. Front looks like drug capsule casing to show that addictions trap these people, within the capsule casing is a row of happy masks and the second row a row of sad faces, when users walk to the back of the capsule case, the masks are cabinet-like which can be opened up to show their thoughts. So example the sad one would say “i dropped my chicken on the floor today” whereas the depressed would say something like “don’t worry you won't have to once i'm gone”. Users can then hashtag to show that depression is not all just emotions.

Possible areas for experimentation:

Material of capsule for it to be sturdy

Cabinet material

Mask material

4. A wall blocks the user from seeing “the other user” behind the wall. This represents isolation and the act of wearing a mask.  When users walk past, he would be able hear “the other user” talking and  would reply saying hello?. “the other user” behind the wall would pause for a while and say “oh i didn’t know anyone would hear me”. Their conversation goes on till “oh don’t worry about me, you won’t have to till i’m gone”. (conversation is fully recorded and implied into the artefact, no manpower needed when on display)  Just the  sentence itself gives the user the creeps and would want the user to do something  about it. But since users know this conversation won’t continue, users can pin  notes of encouragement on the walls to show that everyone can help to impact his life. Users can then hashtag their conversation or story to share the unknown but scary story of depression.

Can make it into a well

- well bc isolation, dropped into the dark world and its hard to get out

- then when people look in the audio will start talking.

- what if we have a lot of masks inside.

- CTA also is write on the brick of the well

Huei’s consultation

idea1

- Wall brick

- How do you know people will respond bc it is an exhibit?

- How are you going to encourage people to actually voice out and speak? They hear sound but they wont say anything because they know is fake

- They only write notes if its a real situation or impactful enough

- Those that that will move people enough to be able to reach out and share their story

- We are communication project not art project

- What makes this different from a art project?

- How do you know its a communication project? How can you tell that its about depression?

- Whole wall full of question, then people touch which question then it answer

- Its like a convo and when u discover more u go deeper and deeper

- Typo wall

Idea 2

- Hanging mask

- How do they know its depression?

- Only words? Whats on the mask?

- Interesting idea, if people see bunch of mask they will go

- Only words? Maybe add more

- Any idea how to make them feel more isolated when they go in

- How to do up the environment to add to the feel

- Whats the call to action?

- Think about the expression.

- Should it be all same? Or some smiling some normal.

Idea3

- Part 1 and part 2 thing

- Part 1 is not clear.

- What can the viewer learn other than emotions

- Link them to website?

- Dont think is very strong and experimental

- Think about communication online

- Hashtag where?

E.g. instagram, anything that can be happening and experimental on instagram?

- They dont get to see if they just post and dont click on it

- Maybe when they post they can see a video thats experimental

Idea 4

- What if by doing smth they can save the person up

- As you pull it activates words of encouragement

- Audio of how you can help the person

- NEW MEDIA LAST YEAR

- Something pitch dark and someone keep crying and crying

David’s Consultation on that same day

- YOU GONNA BUILD A WELL !?!?!!?

- TUNNEL

- MIRROR

- CUT HOLE IN THE MIDDLE

- GIVE PEOPLE THE HOLLOW TUNNEL FEEL

- How real how interesting will the well be?

- Art friend mask very common

- Happy mask?

- Tunnel is already hiding

- Exterior “laughing”

- Inside is what they think is reality

- Outside is the reality

- Outside shld be im fine

- Inside is im not and im sucked in.

- Pillar is strong outside

- Inside cracking

- Inside stick alot of pictures of emotions, and then you repeat (diff emotions of depression)

- In all kinds of setting and lightings

- Tunnel of emotions

- What makes the outside seem strong? pilar?

- Shows strength and stability

- Huge and slender? Flower on the outside? Inside creepy

- Create contrast

- Door parts? Doll parts?

- Symbolism

- zen garden kinda feel using wall plaster on the wall? Hypnotic looks?

- Think of form

- 2 sticks with a wrapped canopy around? What does it mean?

- Carpeted grass?

- Acrylic mirrors: lighter and they are actually mirrors

- Mirror put top and bottom so it can reflect

- There must be light so it can reflect

- How to tell people that is depression? What if its the same person?

- There must be a sign, sign and sound that shows depression

- It could be like he is reading a poem: emotionless

- Audio could be outside and inside

- SOUND IS VERY IMPORTANT

- Circular is harder to make, polygon or straight lines will make it easier?

- What kind of lights to use?

- CTA: if you need help, hashtag/ youtube video with the person from the,  augmented reality? Snapchat kinda film? Don’t go too high tech

- Inception app- CHECK IT OUT

- Can put a mic in the tunnel

- Can use garageband to recreate the app using a mic

- Add echo and reduce the pitch of the person

Idea 2

- Why masks?

- If i walk in and walk back it will be back of the mask

- Not rly walking deep

- More like in the midst of the crowd

After David’s consultation, we illustrated out what we wanted to go with.

Luke’s consultation the next day

A house totally no light

Experiment-put experiment and see if people will put their head in

If floating then people will go down and see

Curtain

What will make a person tat want to explore further and put their head in.

Make people think  that underneath can see

Colour cubes outside?

THINGS TO EXPERIMENT:

Whether people will put their head in

Exterior of the artefact

Interior of artefact

Audio

Photography style

Lighting

Alfred’s consultation that same day

- How you know people will stick their head in

- Record all the lines and distort it and let it play and overlooping

- How does it solve the problem? - Keep it simple

- Depression do u look up or down

- Last year senior did a hole thing but fail

- Flashy lights is a draw

- Make it small so when we look in is big

- Looking down , looking into depression mind

- Rationale abit

- Translucent acrylic sheet on outside

- “Inside” led lights

- Attraction problem, how to make people put their heads in

- How do you know they will have to put their head down?

- Wonderland of cubes being stacked up, randomly placed. Boxes changing colours

- One of the boxes allows you to take a peek in to see the “tunnel”

- Create sounds like whispers that won’t be able to hear unless goes near the box

- Ear buds put on full blast, play whispers, will give the creeps

After the consultation, we went over to Xinyi’s house to get things done. We tried to place experimenting with the interior and the placement and creation of the lighted boxes.

David’s consultation that Friday

- The distance from the mirrors may be a little to near to each other hence unable to achieve the “tunnel” effect.

- Images may be a bit contrasting,images like polaroid then write over the pictures

- Colours outside must blend with the inside.

- If you have a glowing effect, what does the emotion show? Create contrast

- Created a yin and yang effect. Use clean colours

- You can’t reveal too early. Inform the users that it’s from care corner singapore.

- CTA, what makes them curious to find out about the hashtag?

- White wall for the person to write on. So they know how to comfort others. Take this as a practice. Glow is like a state of consciousness.

- Can use flickering candles on the inside.

- Must have an interesting form. But a little overkill.

- Need smth shocking on the outside

- Outside could be an abstract form of the face? Eyes? Look into the person’s eye

- Stocking material, stretch and wrap around, styrofoam balls (rotting flesh)

- Can put things that relate to the person. Panty hose, organic shapes.

- Box with mirrors inside but nails outside (person suppressed)

- Can heal the person with words

- Toothpicks and lights, test for effects

- SETTLE FORM FIRST

- How to get people to write first? Convince them with the sound.

Things to do:

Form

Will notes make the artefact beautiful

With these in mind, we rethought through our artefact. and came up with this

And did up our prototype

We also tested on our photography

let’s hope we’ll finish in time