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#and YES IT'S POSSIBLE HIS SYMPTOMS CLEARED UP IN JUST 4 DAYS

witheringwidgetwrites · 7 months

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an mc with echolalia repeating noises/words/phrases the demon bros say (especially things in demonic language) and some of them getting Annoyed thinking its you mocking them and challenging them (lucifer, satan) or that ur making fun of them in a demeaning way (levi, mammon) and the general confusion and possible angst from hurt feels bc they dont know this is just a Thing some humans do. i think solomon would get caught in a loop with mc tho especially during nightbringer era like sol makes a Noise, mc repeats it, they go back and forth bc sol thinks its cute n understands the stimming nature it can have and everyone else is just '???? did the humans break???'

sorry if this doesnt make much sense its 3 am for me but i saw the ask abt demons not rly understanding humans and was like. lets take it up a notch with autistic (and other neurodivergent) traits and behaviors. bewilder those bitches some more. also i love ur writing its so good thank you for all youve blessed us with <3

AutismCore me me me me me relatable i love this ask sm i am stimming rN

pls send in a req for the others! if i do all in 1 post itll be soo long (also if u want a longer one send in 1 character and we can get some real angst in here)

Lucifer is one who doesn't mind very much. He's used to the Anti-Lucifer-League mocking almost everything he says, so there's not surprises there. However one evening at the dinner table, he it comes along in passing.

"Yes, I've never quite understood if you enjoy my presence or not, as you seem to mock me so often, MC."

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

"I heard you the other evening, you were speaking of what I had said to you, repeatedly. If I recall, it was, 'Don't dally with the dragons, MC'," he smiles at you, but there seems to be a little aggression behind it.

"Oh no, that's not mocking, Luci, it's called echolalia! It's a symptom of my autism." You go on to explain, and it seems like a small wave of relief washes over his eyes.

"Very well. I'm glad we got that misunderstanding cleared up."

The one who avoids you is Mammon, he's only now been caught up to by you, as you sit into the chair next to him at dinner. It's mostly quiet, until everyone has left, besides you him, and Leviathan and Beel, who are having this own conversation. You speak quietly, "have you been avoiding me, Mammon?"

"Why'd ya think that? Maybe it's you avoiding me!"

"Well, I haven't seen you almost at all in 4 days. Everytime I see you, you turn the other way. You feel the sting of fresh tears start to burn in your eyes, and Mammon can't help but feel a little guilty.

"Why'd ya even want to be around me, I heard you mocking me. You were sayin' 'mammoney' over and over."

"No, Mammon, that's not it at all!" You furrow your brow, and more tears start to come forward. This is not the first time you have been misunderstood by someone about your symptoms. You go on to explain, practically pleading with him to believe you.

"So it's just somethin' some humans do? Really? I think Levi does that sometimes," he chuckles, a small blush gracing his features.

The one who is most hurt by the misunderstanding is Leviathan. For sure. He heard you saying "Ruri-chan" over and over to yourself and assumed you were making fun of him. He hid away from you for days until you caught up to him, and asked if he'd been avoiding you. You missed your best friend dearly. "Of course I have! I heard you mocking me! I thought we were friends." His frown was evident, and you had to pry to find out what he was talking about. "Leviathan, what in the world are you talking about?"

"I heard you! You said," in his best mimicking voice he could muster, "Ruri-chan, over and over."

You were quick to stop him, trying your best to explain. He was still hurt, but he did feel a little silly.

"Oh, I guess that makes sense. I do that too sometimes, repeat things when they're f-fun to say, I mean," he seems to trail off, averting his gaze. His anger had not dissipated, and he felt silly for ever being mad.

"I-I'm, I'm sorry for misunderstanding you, MC."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #om! lucifer #om! mammon #om! levi #om! leviathan

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bobbimorses · 2 years

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hi! i had a question about something and was wondering if you could help out. i've read a lot of fics where clint is extremely resistant to accepting medical care when he is injured, stubbornly refusing to go to the hospital or medical wing or whatever. is there any sort of canonical basis for this in the comics? thank you!! (and no pressure, and no worries if you don't have time/interest to answer!)

ok wow your timing is impeccable bc i was involving this in a thing after the previous fic ask!

in the comics, i would say it's situational on the injury and period of time (it'll make sense when i get to these examples)

in avengers #231, clint breaks his leg in battle, and is shown next issue to not exactly be compliant with medical treatment, including a dislike for anesthetic

(a sentiment echoed in the iron age #1, which takes place shortly after)

in this instance, clint’s denial about the extent of his injury, or what he doesn’t like about being declared medically unwell, is the fact that he’ll lose his spot on the team, which is like his whole deal:

he also doesn’t like being “mother-hen’d,” and at this time is in his jerk stage, so that, combined with getting kicked off the team, makes him lash out in said jerk-mode:

so it could be said he can be very crabby when visibly injured

in hawkeye v1 #4, clint doesn’t want bobbi to know he’s just gone deaf bc he “couldn’t stomach pity,” and she basically has to chase him down to admit it and probably is the one to drag him to a doctor

in the west coast avengers’ lost in time arc, there’s a whole new dynamic to clint’s treatment of his injuries; clint’s now a team leader and wants to keep up morale, and prevent the team from stopping frequently so they can get forward in time (into the past) as quickly as possible (don’t ask). so that’s a whole “take a hit for the team, don’t wanna slow them down” thing.

wonder man blows up a bunch of guns in front of clint, burning him. of course, his primary concern with an injury as always is “i can still use bow???”:

(from west coast avengers #19. tigra....why.)

but he keeps transparency with his team and doesn’t deny that he’s injured (even admitting he has a fever), or that he needs a doctor, and doesn’t refuse stopping for one; he just kinda tries to...push it aside a bit until he can’t any longer.

(shortly after this, he dies, is revived by khonshu, and invents moon knight’s weapons so. all in a day’s work)

in avengers spotlight #22, he goes to a marriage counselor with bobbi, and the office is then ambushed by some mercenaries. clint ends up getting chased and battling a whole multitude of mercenaries. 3 issues later, he ends up injured in the sewers, and it turns out the doctor was in on the whole thing:

so in avengers spotlight #27, after he’s apparently been showing symptoms of illness for a while, he refuses to undergo tests bc of his newfound distrust:

and now his denial of sickness also has a new element of “we have bigger fish to fry”

(turns out he had a bladder infection). also right as he was leaving this doctor, a supervillain blew up the sidewalk underneath him, so clint really had a terrible streak with going to doctors here

in widowmaker #4, he gets smacked at the back of the head hard enough to draw blood, but refuses to get looked at, which we can again assume is part of his dislike of being fussed over

which culminates in hawkeye: blindspot, where he’s been ignoring symptoms while avengering that turn out to be him going blind.

after being told this by tony, steve, and dr. blake, he still continues to run around doing business even though he’s not been cleared for duty and they want him to stay at avengers tower. so obvs his response is to beat up cap when he tries to ground him for his wellbeing (yes they look like clones):

we’ve got twofold reasons here: he initially ignored the symptoms bc his whole schtick is impeccable aim reliant on eyesight. then, he refused to be cooped up under medical supervision bc he was more determined to see-through the investigation of his (evil) mentor’s death

anyways, now that we’ve gone through these, i wouldn’t say clint has a hatred of doctors or denial of obvious injuries or anything, and he’s gone to the hospital on multiple occasions. in fact, avengers: no road home #8 stipulates that he’s apparently done so a lot, which, ow:

but would i say he’s more comfortable healing up with the avengers instead of a hospital like in fics? well, i guess possibly? the thing is, the avengers didn’t consistently use an infirmary for the longest time. so for decades of issues, people were just going to the hospital for anything that needed more attention than setting a limb etc. (ok a baby was delivered once but we don’t talk about that). but in avengers v3, wanda is healing clint with new healing magic she learned after he’s beaten grievously by the wrecking crew, so i’d say that would both be more convenient and preferred by him...if she didn’t end up killing him a few issues later bc i don’t recall any ally avengers using “healing magic” on him again.

so i think my answer to every aspect of your question is, essentially, “idk it depends” but also “yes.” on one hand, he doesn’t like to face when his status as an ace archer or avenger is threatened. on the other, he does get injuries treated to prevent as much, but sometimes it’s only after it becomes way too apparent. or sometimes he just wants to push through to get the job done. and he doesn’t like feeling helpless or pitied. so, you’ve got your base elements, but it’s not like a phobia of hospitals or anything (except for that stretch with all the doctors blowing him up and trying to cut off his limbs for a bounty. that was fair)

#i in fact was using half of these details lmao #...whomst would like to beta #long post #meta #clint barton #again i stress the avengers don't really go around like 'oh let's go to medical'#there was no 'medical'#there was 'let me get the bandages from the infirmary i forgot we had'#'cap has turned into an old man in the infirmary'#and 'my wife is having an affair with hawkeye in the infirmary'#also re: magic #obvs the phoenix force healed clint but that was after it burned him to a crisp #there's other instances of injuries getting treated but these are what spring to mind

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blobbyclouds · 3 years

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I have a request if you’re currently doing those. How would the Arcana main six help their female s/o during her period?

I got youuuuu. To any of you lovelies on your period... I’m so, so, sorry :’) we can suffer together

warnings: period, minor blood, minor pain

-Asra Alnazar-

Tea? Tea. Yeah. Lots of tea. And if you say you don’t like it, he WILL find some flavor of tea that you’ll like even if it’s 90% sugar

Besides tea though, he’ll make whatever foods you’re craving or run to the market to get whatever you want. He always leaves Faust with you so you don’t feel lonely :)

Your guys’ bed is literally just a nest of pillows, blankets, scarves, etc, which makes it a very comfy place when you need to curl up and die :) you can disappear under a huddle of blankets, only emerging enough to take the food Asra gives you or let Faust under the blankets to boop your nose

But if you’re cuddly, Asra is 110% on board with that. He’s just,,, so cuddly. He is always up for cuddles, especially when it’s helping you feel better. He wraps all his limbs around you, buries his head in your neck, and lightly rubs your massages and sides

His voice is always so soft and sweet. Whether he’s telling you a stupid story about some trouble Faust caused in the palace or reminding you that the pain won’t last, his voice is pure g o l d

Asra is hella good at massages so that’s always an option when you’re feeling crappy

Will press, soft, sweet kisses onto your tummy

And he hugs you and rocks you softly side to side when your emotions get the best you, reminding you you can’t really control the hormones and making a few jokes to lighten the mood

He probably knows at least a few spells to at least make a sort of heating pad, if not directly reduce your pain, which is a pretty nice bonus

“I know a way to stop a period for awhile, you know.” “Really, Asra? How???” “Well, it’d only last about nine months but--” and then he gets a pillow chucked at him

-Nadia Satrinava-

Honey, you are in a palace — prepare to be pampered

You get warm, petal dazzled baths, your favorite cravings fresh from the kitchen, soft beds that fit you just right, plus a dashing duchess to comfort you

She’ll encourage you to walk around the gardens to keep your blood flowing, or at least walk down a few of the palace halls. Even if you whine and grumble, she reminds you that staying at least a little active will help with the cramps and sores

She shows you secret clearings that are peaceful and empty, so you can go hide there when the hormones are messing with your emotions too much

In general, she doesn’t make too big of a deal of it to make you feel self conscious with all the attention, but she does make sure you’re pampered

If you get dramatic period emotions, Nadia won’t take it personally. She’ll just watch with a bemused expression or sweetly rub your back until you calm down. Considering how many sisters she has, your meltdowns are nothing compared to the mini-wars she’s seen play out when too many periods aligned at the same time — she’s seen shit

If you’re both on your period at the same time, you are a FORCE to be reckoned with

Someone tries to be rude? Slack off their job? Be a jerk in any way? You and Nadia will find them and e n d them

And then curl up on the couch by the fireplace and regret ever moving

You’re super jealous of Nadia because her periods are short, like 4 days long. So if you’re one of those people (like me) who gets like 9 day long periods… you just sad :(

-Julian Devorak-

He’s a doctor, so he’s got you covered!

He knows all about periods, symptoms, and, most importantly, how to ease those pains! He knows what foods can stop cramps and can make medicine to help headaches. He’s also stubborn enough to make you stretch or sleep enough to actually take care of yourself

You can make all the excuses you like, but Julian will find a way to make you take care of yourself

If you leak somewhere, Julian will clean it up and won’t let you feel one bit embarrassed

He has an uncanny ability of getting any amount of blood out of anything without even batting an eye don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to

He’s sweet enough to comfort you, but also dorky and dramatic enough to make you laugh (even if it does hurt a bit)

He jokingly calls your period his time “dueling with the Red Lady” because it’s his job, as your dashing knight, to guard you against the ruthless assault of the evil witch giving you pain! (there’s a whole saga with plots and characters, all with Julian being dramatic, very entertaining)

He’s very cuddly, and despite how loud he is, he can be quiet when you need time to relax and sort through the pain and high charged emotions

His hands are terribly cold though, so whenever he tries to be sweet by rubbing your skin you let out a little squeak of protest against the sudden cold

Cooking doesn’t come naturally to him like it does with Portia, but for your sake he tries his best. It took twice as long as it would most people, but after carefully scrutinizing the recipe over and over again, he finally managed to make you something :)

-Muriel-

He gave you a LOT of space at first, like too much space

He was still very helpful, keeping the fire going and giving you extra blankets and such, but he worried about being annoying. He knew that this is a kind of personal thing and didn’t want to be overbearing when you needed time to chill. Which, of course, you hated when he kept conversations to a minimum and gave you way too much space

Until that is, you plopped down on top of him and refused to move. And then he finally understood that you actually wanted him to around, and became far more receptive to you wanting cuddles and such

He’s a human heater, which is great for when you have sores and cramps — it’s especially nice when you have Inanna there too, so you’re surrounded by nice, cozy warmth

He keeps the fire going extra strong for you, and will make whatever warm stews you like

When he’s rubbing your sides his big hands are so, so painfully gentle with you ;-; like his whole body softens up because he’s trying so hard to ease your pain as much as he possibly can

If you’re having an especially rough period, Muriel will work up the courage to go to the market all by himself and buy you something to distract you, be it art supplies, books, or puzzles. The smile you gave him made the long walk and somewhat awkward conversations well worth it :)

-Portia Devorak-

Listen, her cottage is probably the best place to have to deal with a period. You have a cozy cottage that’s just big enough to give personal space, but also small enough to stay warm and keep everything accessible. Plus, there’s a cute kitty, an even cuter girl named Portia, and always tons of yummy food to eat

And then right outside the door you have beautiful gardens??? So you can lay in the sunshine, hike, or smell flowers to distract yourself???

And then there’s a whole palace to chill in if you really feel like it?? Okay, you got it GOOD here

Portia is so sweet and doting. She helps however she can, without making it seem like she’s being condescending or anything. She makes a lot of jokes and is chipper enough to make you almost forget you’re bleeding

Will cuddle and hug you as much as you need it :)

Pepi will curl up on your lap and purr all your pain away if Portia has to go to the palace, and then she’ll make up for all the cuddles you missed out on once she gets back

And she’ll probably bring some sweets with her from the palace, which is an added bonus

She’ll probably get some balms and potions for the both of you from Julian, just in case warm stew and massages aren’t cutting it

If your periods line up you just cuddle up together in bed, close all the curtains, and hold Pepi between you like the sacred heater she is

-Lucio-

What???

Wait, yes, he knows the basics. He knows what periods are, he understands that they aren’t the best, and he knows that symptoms are often eased with pain relief balms or warm baths

But he didn’t understand just how bad they can be until the two of you were together

He just walked in on you one day, curled up in a ball and gingerly massaging your stomach. When you explained what was wrong, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow

“Just how bad can they be if you have to deal with them once a month?” he asked

You glared up at him from under the blankets. “Come here and let me stab your stomach — repeatedly. Then you’ll know.”

INSTANT understanding

He tries to be helpful by being a bit more gentle with his affections and doing chores for you, but usually you have to ask him to do things because he isn’t always… aware? Or like realizing he can/should do something? It’s not that he’s ignoring, it’s just that he hasn’t really been mindful of enough friends to learn how to help with periods

But of course, the moment you ask him to cook something or draw up a bath, he’s on it. He eventually learns to do these things without being asked, because he wants to be the b e s t boyfriend ever, especially when you’re in pain

Bonus is that all his years as a warrior plus loving his clothes made him super skilled in getting blood out of clothes, so he’s you covered there

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

The Extraordinary Dragon (Part 2/6)

A fluffy story about Charlie training a dragon with a sad and mysterious past.

Warnings: dragon abuse Word Count: 2,266

“Are you ready?” Matthew was standing with me by the gates of the reserve, his arms crossed on his chest and looking like he will burst from excitement any moment now.

It’s been a week since I found out that I am going to work with a 1-year-old Hebridean Black. That, however, has been the only information Matt has given me. He has been awfully secretive about this dragon and no matter how many times I asked him about it he just told me not to worry and that I will have all my questions answered once the dragon arrives.

Today was that day and I couldn’t help but feel nervous. Not only because I didn’t know what to expect and the whole thing seemed to amuse my boss very much but also because this was a Hebridean Black – my favorite breed of dragon.

We don’t have a rule book here in the Sanctuary but we do have a few protocols we have to obey.

Wear your protective gear at work.

If you get injured, stop what you are doing immediately and find a healer.

No matter how vicious the dragon is, try to stay as calm as possible because they sense fear.

We don’t get promoted but are assigned to dragons based on our experience.

In the first year when we arrive here, we work with researchers to observe dragons – learn about their behavior and eating patterns.

In the second and third years, we either get assigned to Common Welsh Greens or Antipodean Opaleyes. If we are doing great with the latter, our superior might assign us to one of the fliers so we can start training to fly on a dragon.

That is a crucial practice for working with dragons later on because part of the daily routine is to take them out for a flight. The training usually lasts for 6 months and then we have to pass the flying exam – which I passed with flying colors on the first try, of course!

Then in year four we usually continue with Opaleyes. I was lucky enough to get a chance to work with two Chinese Fireballs.

In years five and six we are assigned to a new breed, the Swedish Short-Snout, and we train with the healers to learn how to heal and recognize symptoms if the dragon we work with shows any signs of sickness.

For me, that dragon was a Norwegian Ridgeback. I wasn’t experienced enough to work with the breed but due to a shortage of dragonologists, Matthew assigned the dragon to me anyway, and even though it wasn’t the easiest dragon to work with I had a pleasant enough experience with it that I now visit its habitat a few times per month to say hello.

In year eight or nine we can sign up for an exchange program. It means we go and work in one of the other dragon reserves. My wish was to work in the Swedish Reserve for one year and I was over the roof when my application was approved.

My boss wanted me to apply to the Chinese Reserve so that I could work with Fireballs since I have already dealt with them but I heard that even though the Swedish Reserve mostly works with Short-Snouts they had a Peruvian Vipertooth and a Ukrainian Ironbelly.

I know I shouldn’t have gone against my boss and try and work with dragons I wasn’t ready for but I just couldn’t help myself. I knew I would be less monitored there and nobody would tell me I can’t work with a certain dragon so I had to try.

Working with a sick Norwegian Ridgeback was harder than trying to befriend a Ukrainian Ironbelly. The latter looks like it’s going to eat you at any given moment but they are harmless even though they are huge compared to the other dragons.

Because I got a certificate of successfully taming both a Vipertooth and an Ironbelly, Matthew was so impressed that once I got back I was assigned to work with 3 different dragons.

I couldn’t believe that he allowed me to work with a Peruvian Vipertooth and not one but two Romanian Longhorns. I nagged him to assign me to one of those dragons for a year before my year in Sweden and he always said I wasn’t ready. But when I came back with the letter from my Swedish trainer, Matthew couldn’t believe how well I did and decided to give me a chance to work with dragons completely on my own.

I have been working with Hel, Lasair, and Rocker for over a year and I am doing great. All three of them listen to me and I have no trouble going through their daily routines. They trust me and I have learned so much from them in such a short amount of time. And apparently, it shows since my boss assigned me to the Hebridean Black.

“I would love to say that I am ready but the look on your face concerns me.” I lifted an eyebrow at him, my palms getting sweatier.

“Look, for how many years have you been begging me to let you work with a Black? Now you’re trying to chicken out?” He smirked.

“No, of course, not. I am just curious why the sudden change of hearts. Isn’t it too dangerous? Aren’t I unqualified to take care of a Hebridean Black?”

“Asterin.”

“What?” I turned my head to him, with more questions in my head than before.

“The dragon’s name is Asterin.” He explained and nodded toward the gate where 7 wizards appeared along with a big cage with a dragon chained inside.

We hurried to them and helped them unload the dragon. I had so many questions. We have never received a dragon that was chained or that needed so many people escorting it. What was Matthew not telling me?

They told us not to take the beast out of the cage until we reach its assigned habitat. Matt called 4 of my co-workers to help levitate the cage to a secluded area that was going to be Asterin’s home for the next 3 months.

Every time we get a new dragon to live in our reserve, we put it far away from the rest of the dragons so that it can get used to the environment change first before it’s introduced to other dragons. Then we determine if the dragon is capable of living with another of its breed – we never put more than 3 together – or if they’d prefer to have their own habitat. After those 3 months, the proper training can begin.

“I need some answers.” I frowned at my boss when we were left alone with the new dragon.

“Okay, so the dragon was put through a lot. She has trust issues and is very untamed for her age. She doesn’t want to fly and barely eats anything.” He explained.

“That’s why she’s so small for her age?” I leaned to the right to get a glimpse of Asterin behind Matthew.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“But I don’t understand. The dragonologists that brought her here are from the MacFusty clan. They take care of Hebridean Blacks, why was she brought here and where did they get her from?”

“They found her.”

“What do you mean they found her? You don’t simply stumble upon a dragon!” I furrowed my brows.

“But they did – abandoned in the forest close to their reserve. They heard her cries. She had both her wings broken and half of her teeth were missing.” Matthew continued.

“That would explain the not eating and flying part.” I could feel the heat on my face. If she was found like that someone had to hurt her and then just left her. How could someone do something like that to such a beautiful creature? Why would they hurt a dragon?

“They tried taking care of her,” Matt explained further, “but after not making any progress for more than half a year they contacted me.” He locked eyes with mine and it seemed he was trying to read my face.

“What’s with the look?”

“You know that you need 15+ years of experience to work with a Hebridean Black here.”

“I do. That’s why I asked you about 50 times in the last week why did you pick me?” My heart was racing, knowing I will finally get the answer to my question.

“I didn’t.” Matt cleared his throat.

“What?” “I didn’t pick you. They did.”

“Who? The MacFusty family?” I don’t think I was ever this confused – this didn’t make any sense. I knew about the clan. They were famous for taking in Hebridean Blacks and taking care of them before releasing them into the wild but there was no way they could know about me.

“They knew that the dragon needed better care and even though their property is expanding they reckoned it would be better if the dragon is moved to a bigger reserve,” Matthew said. “They contacted the Swedish Dragon Sanctuary and they recommended the dragon to be transported here, into your care.”

“The Swedish Sanctuary?” I said more to myself than to him.

“I guess they were impressed with how a 27-year-old tamed a Ukranian Ironbelly as if it was no big deal. And your trainer, Oskar, found it amusing when you called them extra large Cruppies.” Matthew playfully shook his head.

“Well, they are. Their size is just deceiving.” I defended my statement.

“Charles, you must’ve done something to impress them so much that they thought of you when they found out about Asterin’s situation.” Matthew put his hand on my shoulder and winked at me.

“And you just agreed?” I narrowed my eyes at him. I still couldn’t believe it. They singlehandedly picked me? They thought of me to help the dragon?

I took a deep breath. I was prepared for anything when Matt was keeping all of this a secret from me but I didn’t think that this involved me on such a large scale. This was a great honor, an honor about which I didn’t know how to feel. I am good with dragons but I am not that good, am I?

It rarely happens that a dragonologist is recommended to be assigned to a dragon, especially if they are 28 years old. I’m still learning. I am still observing and studying the dragons and now the MacFusty family knows my name?

I rubbed my eyes thinking I was dreaming. This opportunity won’t only escalate my career and make my day-to-day more fun, it will also make my dream to work with a Hebridean Black come true.

“I don’t know what to say.” Was all I could muster.

“Just enjoy it, Charles. I know how much you like a challenge.” He tapped me twice on the shoulder and walked away.

I swallowed thickly and looked at the dragon who was standing still and being aware of every speck that moved.

“Hi.” I waved slowly. “My name is Charlie and I’ll be your buddy for the foreseeable future.”

The dragon’s tail started to move from left to right and I was pretty sure that if I took a step forward I would get scorched.

“It’s okay. I mean you no harm.” I bowed my head, maintaining eye contact, and then sat on the ground. “See, if you want you can eat me right now.”

I looked at Asterin’s claws which were dug deep into the earth beneath her paws. It meant that she was tense and stressed and didn’t believe a word I said to her.

“I can leave if you want. Just let me come back so I can give you some dinner.” I started to stand up but a roar straight to my face made me sit back down.

“Okay, okay. You do not agree with me leaving. I understand.” I lifted my hands in defense.

I felt like my heart was going to escape my ribcage any moment now. I wasn’t scared. I was thrilled. I could see that this was going to be a tough challenge and I couldn’t wait to see how everything will unfold.

I sat still and had a staring contest with Asterin for the next 3 hours. My bum and back were killing me but I didn’t care. The dragon didn’t move a muscle and her claws were still dug deep into the ground.

“Asterin, it’s time for dinner. How about you let me stand up?” I motioned with my head to the sky – it being dark, that’s how long we sat together in silence.

The dragon didn’t move nor blinked so I inhaled sharply and without exhaling stood up slowly, maintaining eye contact. Asterin let out a silent growl but didn’t roar, which was a good sign. I backed away and once I was out of her sight I hurried to get her food. Hebridean Blacks love venison so that was what I was going to get her.

As I was heading out of the food supply hut, I grabbed a bag of apples just in case Asterin is a vegetarian like Crystal.

The whole way back to the dragon I was debating whether or not I should stay and observe her eating or should I just leave her alone. I wanted to see if she will even want to eat and if it’s painful when she chews the meat.

My decision, however, didn’t matter when I came back with the dinner and Asterin was nowhere to be found.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #the weasleys #dragon boy #charles weasley #hebridean black #dragons #a dragon story #charie weasley hphm #dragonologist

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caramelfuzz · 3 years

Text

Sick Ai/zawa

Alright people, take the garbage man with a cold. I really wanted to make it erasermight so we’ve got an awkward All Might trying to take care of his disaster boyfriend.

It’s common knowledge among the UA faculty that Yagi Toshinori’s weakened physical state left him with a variety of vulnerabilities, most of which Aizawa Shouta became even more aware of once he began dating the man. Of these vulnerabilities, the increased susceptibility to sickness is what worries Aizawa the most. If he gets sick it inevitably goes straight to his chest, which causes even more severe respiratory issues. It’s frankly quite worrisome, even if Aizawa still has issues expressing his worry to the fragile man.

That’s why, the second Aizawa feels a prickle in his throat one night on patrol, he decides it would be best for him to go back to his own place instead of Toshinori’s as they’d planned.

He decides to forgo sending any form of message so he doesn’t have to lie to his boyfriend, instead opting to curl up in his sleeping bag and pray he’s being paranoid and that he’s not actually coming down with something.

When he awakens to a completely stuffed nose, a burning throat, and an incessant tickle in both he knows his prayers have gone unanswered.

He checks his phone, 4 texts and 2 missed calls from Toshi, great.

After an experimental sniff he finds his nose completely blocked, which won’t do at all.

Considering his options, Aizawa decides that avoiding Toshinori entirely would be the best plan of action. He would die of guilt if his simple head cold turned into bronchitis or pneumonia for the world’s symbol of peace.

“Hahh… Ih'CH-ISH! 'TSHIEW! Eh’nGXTCH’uh!”

He pitches miserably into his hands, wishing for a fleeting moment that he had the luxury of calling in sick. Nezu had requested that, short of the stomach flu, hospitalization, or death, no teacher is to miss class. There is far too much at stake for students to miss a day of learning. With that thought fresh in his mind, Aizawa drags himself out of bed to get ready for work.

As he walks toward his classroom he sees something flash in the corner of his eye. Crap, he’d recognize that hideous pinstriped suit anywhere. Before he can make any sort of escape, All Might, in all of his muscular glory, is in front of him. He’s smiling but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Aizawa-kun, hello! Did you receive any of my messages last night?”

Aizawa stands frozen, unsure of what to do. If he speaks he’ll give himself away immediately, his voice is wrecked and it hasn’t even been a full day since he felt the cold coming on. He’ll have to find some sort of way out of this conversation that doesn’t involve speaking, breathing, or hurting Toshinori’s feelings.

Suddenly Midoriya comes bounding around the corner, panting and looking exceedingly concerned.

“Hey All Might! I, uh, need to talk to you?”

Toshinori, in his endlessly enthusiastic manner, whips around to face the young hero and bellows,

“What can I do for you, young Midoriya?”

Aizawa takes the opportunity and hurries away from them towards his classroom. He can’t hang out in the teacher’s lounge, not with the danger of his boyfriend going in there at any point during the day. If he were to cough or sneeze in that room he could potentially infect Toshinori if he went in there later.

He’s in desperate need of tissues, and considering how sore his nose already is, he feels a visit to pilfer some of Recovery Girl’s nice lotion-infused ones is in order.

****************

“What? Aizawa is sick?”

“Yes, and I would advise you to keep your distance or else you could catch it too, Toshinori. He only popped in for tissues earlier and he wouldn’t let me take his temperature but I’m positive that boy had a fever. Stubborn man.”

While Recovery Girl continues to complain about how stubborn the pro hero is, Toshinori can’t help but worry about his boyfriend. What if he tries to patrol while he’s sick? Recovery Girl said he had a fever earlier, what if he passes out somewhere?

He shakes the thoughts from his head. He realizes Shouta likely won’t allow him to come over and take care of him, but has to do something. Aizawa has already cared for him far too many times during their short relationship and he wants to repay the favor. There is something so intimate about taking care of an ailing partner that Toshinori doesn’t want to miss out on just because of his compromised immune system, so he devises a plan.

****************

By the end of the day Aizawa is ready to drop. His students can be a handful even when he is healthy, but with a raging head cold and a fever it’s a lot more difficult to deal with them. Not to mention the fact that he’s trying to suppress his symptoms so as not to infect his students on top of everything else.

“huh'EHSCCHH'uh! Ih'CHISSSH-xt! 'TSHIEWW! eh’nGXTCH’uh!”

He cringes at the unexpected sneezes, they’re getting harder to hold in. He’s walking home, shivering as the wind picks up. It looks like it might rain.

It does in fact rain, the sky opens up when he’s about 5 minutes from his apartment but he’s too exhausted to muster anything faster than a brisk walk which only shortens his journey by a minute or so.

When he arrives home all he can do is remove his wet scarf and curl up on the couch, pulling a thin afghan around himself as tightly as he can. He quickly drifts off as exhaustion takes over.

****************

Aizawa jolts from his half-sleep to a timid knock at his door. His first thought is that a villain had somehow found his place of residence, but it’s exceedingly unlikely for a villain to just knock on the door. Come to think of it, it’s exceedingly unlikely for anyone to visit him. Maybe it’s someone else’s door being knocked on. When the knocking persists, however, he clears his throat and tries to call out.

“I-ihh- I’mb cahh-cobigg,”

He rasps, grabbing onto his coffee table for support as he staggers through the living room. He grabs his scarf, it’s still wet but it will have to do, and approaches the door. His hitching breath forces him to detour to the tissue box.

“Godda sdihh-gh’hh! Ugh, sdeeze. Hh’mmph! Gktshhh! H’HCKCH!”

He dissolves into a coughing fit which he muffles into his arm as he approaches the door, not bothering to check who it is, which he immediately regrets when he sees a soaked Toshinori with two flu masks on his face.

Aizawa’s breath leaves his lungs and he staggers, feeling like he might pass out for a moment from the sheer shock of seeing Toshinori in such a state, why was he out in the cold rain? He can get really sick if he does that! He quickly comes back to his senses and ushers his boyfriend into his apartment, thoughts solely on getting Toshinori warm and dry as quickly as possible. He grabs a towel and begins to dab at his hair and arms, growing frustrated with himself as a sneeze builds within his sinuses and he’s forced to jerk away with a throat-wrenching triple.

“Hahh… Ih'CHISH! 'TSHIEWW! eh’nGXTCH’uh!”

He dabs at his nose with his scarf, once again turning his worried and exhausted gaze to the drowned rat he’s dating, only to see him with a mirrored expression.

“Aizawa? Shouta, I’m fine!”

Toshinori’s voice is muffled by the masks but still very audible, but his reassurance seems to fall on deaf ears. Aizawa is feverishly gathering an assortment of long sleeved shirts and thick socks and placing them onto the bed before them. Once he’s satisfied with his choices he starts to push his boyfriend toward the bathroom almost frantically.

“Warmb up, take a shower or sombethigg. You’ve got to be freezigg.”

“I’m really not,” Toshinori chuckles, pulling up his sleeve. Aizawa squints at his arm through blurry eyes, unsure of what he’s supposed to be looking at.

Upon closer inspection, it appears Toshinori is wearing thermals beneath his work clothes. It’s smart given how frail he’s become since his injury and Aizawa is relieved for a moment, but then he remembers that he’s a walking germ factory at the moment. He scrambles away from his boyfriend and shields his mouth with his damp scarf.

“Wh-what are you doigg h-hh-here, Toshi?”

“I heard you were sick so I brought things to take care of you. You don’t look so good, Shouta.”

“Who told you that? I’mb finde.”

“Then why are you avoiding me like the plague if not to avoid infecting me? I thought our relationship had been going well.”

He looks so sad and Aizawa feels his heart lurch at the knowledge that he is the cause of it, but he has to remind himself that this is ultimately for a good cause. He can’t infect the symbol of peace with his rotten head cold.

“I’mb finde. Just ndeed sombe space right ndow, that’s all. Could you still put ond sombethigg dry, please? Just ind case?”

Toshinori complies, selecting a pair of sweats and some socks from the pile and going to change. The moment Aizawa is alone in the room he coughs, keeping his face hidden in his scarf. His chest is much more congested than it was earlier and he’s once again reminded that he has to find a way to make his fragile boyfriend leave before he catches this.

When Toshinori emerges dressed in clothes just a little too big on him, his resolve almost breaks. His sweet boyfriend looks so cuddly like this and all he wants to do is snuggle up with him in bed and sleep for a year. A wrenching coughing fit forces him to double over into his scarf and he’s pulled out of his fantasy. He can’t do that.

When the coughing fit doesn’t let up Toshinori moves to pat his back, but Aizawa feels a small burst of panicked desperation course through him and he smacks his hand away with a bit more force than intended. He sees a small tear of hurt in the smaller man’s eyes and immediately regrets his split-second decision.

“I’mb-kff!-I’mb s-so sorry, Yagi-san.”

Toshinori’s heart breaks a little more at the sound of his boyfriend being so formal with him. Is this another tactic to drive him away so he won’t be infected? Or is it something worse?

He’d never been one to give up easily, though. He’s determined to go out with a bang. If Aizawa does want to break up Toshinori is at least determined to take care of him before he ends things.

Shouta drops his gaze to the floor guiltily, cold-dulled senses failing to pick up on Toshinori’s silent approach. He jerks when he feels a cool hand being pressed to his brow, looking up in shame at his boyfriend as he tuts gently at the heat. He doesn’t pull away, almost leaning into the cool touch before he stops himself.

Toshinori takes this as permission to speak freely.

“Now I know you’re worried about infecting me, which is why I'm wearing two masks, but if it will make you feel better you can wear one as well, I brought more.”

Aizawa snatches the offered mask and secures it over his mouth and nose before leaning away from his boyfriend to cough roughly.

“Are you going to let me take your temperature? I heard you were a bad patient for Recovery Girl earlier,”

Aizawa bites back a groan, so that’s how Toshi found him out.

He begrudgingly lifts the mask a bit, allowing his boyfriend to slip the device between his parted lips before shoving him toward the sink, aggressively miming hand washing. His boyfriend mimics his gestures in an equally exaggerated fashion, earning a weak chuckle from around the thermometer.

When it beeps, Aizawa yanks it away from his boyfriend’s reaching hands, shaking his head aggressively. At least Toshi looks amused instead of upset.

“You don’t want me to touch it again?”

Aizawa nods, squinting down at the blurry numbers flashing on the screen, 1… 107? No, that would be fatal. 100? The third number continues to evade him, which just goes to show that he probably has a fever, and he finds frustrated tears filling his eyes. Toshi sees his irritated squint and approaches his boyfriend, gently petting his hair as he peers over his shoulder.

“102.1, that’s not great, babe. Have you taken any medicine?”

Shouta ducks into his shoulder to stifle a harsh sneeze before shaking his head sheepishly. It’s honestly pathetic how incapable he is at taking care of himself and yet the school continues to entrust him with the lives of impressionable teenagers.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a glass of water being pressed into his hand, but almost immediately after taking the glass the infernal tickle that has plagued him all day rears its head again.

“Hh’ghh… hah… ihh’hih!”

Before Toshinori can even process what is happening, Aizawa jerks to the side to sneeze, sloshing chilly water into his lap in the process,

“huh'EHSCCHH'uh! Ih'CHISSSH-xt! 'TSHIEWW! eh’nGXTCH’uh! Sdf! ‘Scuse be.”

He shivers violently and now it’s Toshinori’s turn to worry about keeping his boyfriend warm. He gathers a warm sweater and socks from the pile of clothing Aizawa had accumulated for him and returns to his boyfriend.

Shouta is desperately hacking into his sleeve when Toshi returns with the clothing and the few parts of his face that aren’t obscured by the mask or his hair are pink with exertion.

When he notices the worried presence looming before him he attempts to straighten up and appear healthy, but his lungs won’t grant him that luxury and he starts to cough again. He finally feels the urge die down along with a gush of phlegm in his mouth. Disgusted, he snatches the clothes from his boyfriend and stalks to the bathroom, ripping the mask off and spitting into the sink. He dons the mask once more to change his clothes, unwilling to breathe any of his germs on anything Toshi could potentially touch. He leaves his clothes in a damp heap on the bathroom floor but keeps his scarf wrapped around his neck. It’s still wet from the rain and causes goosebumps to break out on his skin. He dismisses the feeling with a single shiver and walks back out to his small living room.

Toshinori looks up from where he’s putting on the kettle and frowns, brows furrowing. It makes Shouta self conscious of his appearance. His nose tingles and he scrubs at it from over his mask to force the tickle away, a single hitch leaving his throat. He’s so focused on not sneezing that he doesn’t notice his boyfriend approach, again.

“Why are you still wearing that scarf? It’s all wet, Shouta. We both know you’d never let me wear something wet if I were sporting a head cold as bad as yours.”

He scolds softly, settling onto the couch and patting the cushion next to him. Aizawa hadn’t realized he was still standing, he must be more out of it than he thought.

The kettle sings from across the room and Toshinori gently guides Shouta to sit on the couch before going to turn it off. He returns with a mug of tea and a pack of medicine, which he presents to his boyfriend shyly. He’s usually the one being taken care of and it feels oddly intimate to take care of his boyfriend like this. Aizawa just stares at them blankly for a moment, another shiver wracking his thin frame. He takes them eventually and swallows the medicine before listing into Toshinori’s side, exhaustion creeping up his body.

“Sleep, Shouta.”

And he does.

#aa writes #i have finally gotten over my like three year long writers block apparently #and i'm currently obsessed over the garbage man again #i started this fic probably a year or so ago #the ending is a little rushed #i'm bad at endings tho #sick aizawa #aizawa sneeze #bnha

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playboysaleen · 3 years

Text

Love Malady.

Part 2.

Part 1.

Summary: Daughter of the notorious gang of thieves. One day your brothers group kidnap a nobel woman. Feeling guilt you gave her warm clothes, tended to her injuries, and helped her escape. instantly the world falls under a deadly pandemic and is killing/infecting people left to right and you are the only one who is immune. All because you saved a girl years ago coming to find out... it was the goddess of death(Famine).

Warnings- cursing i think, violence.

___________

Present.

February 12th, 2021.

The night Buck got sick changed everyone's life. I waited hours for my phone to ring giving me the ‘okay homeboys fine.’ but Jaime walked into my room with tear-stained cheeks telling me Buck didn't make it.

Then a couple days later after Bucks death one of the guys found Adam dead with the same symptoms. Then Pedro, then Jackson, then Shelli, and it killed off almost all of my fathers gang. The disease spread like a wildfire. From our home town to the city, the state then just did this hopscotch move and expanded around the whole world.

The first year the doctors tried to keep it a secret but it flared so fast that society called it the ‘Sinister Ash’. There was no cure when the officials realized it was airborne, literally nothing could cure anyone. Some were lucky with similarities of a stomach virus and a mild headache, and there were the less fortunate. Headaches, stomach bugs, fever and cancer like symptoms. The strong can work through it but it was permanent. The rest who had it worst? Died off just like Buck and Adam.

“Why are you not eating?” My fathers voice rang me out of my thoughts with his thick Venezuela accent, I peeked at my father shrugging my shoulders. Grumbling, he focused his attention to Jaime as they went over the next move for their ‘purloins’. I grabbed my plate walking towards the kitchen running the hot water over the greatest plate, a thud sounded in the dining room which caused my brother's name to boom out my fathers mouth. I ran towards the other side of the table to grasp my brother's shaking body, cursing under my breath. I dialed 911.

“The ambulance is on the way, go Pa.” I instructed my father watching his face fall, he sighed placing his hand on my shoulder.

“Our time has come, I love you, my child.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on my forehead making his way out the back. I cooed into Jaime’s hair as I held him in my arms praying to the man above if he could not let this disease invade my brother's body. ________________________________________ “Did you at least get the girls number?” Jaime stated in disbelief when he woke up and saw the EMT worker reeling him into the ER. I chuckled, shaking my head playfully, pushing his shoulder.

“She was pretty..” I mumbled causing Jaime to widen his eyes pushing me back-

“I TOLD YOU!” he laughed out loud when the doctor walked in with a clipboard. A man around his 50’s with a look that masked his face of light, but we all knew he was trying to survive like the rest of us.

“Good afternoon, I am Doctor Nives.” The man spoke ever so gently but his beard gave me Cap vibes. I nodded my head looking at Jaime slipping my hand into his.

“So there’s news, I do not know how you both will take it but-“ he grabs the x rays placing them onto the screen that took up half of the wall next to Jaime. I watched as the deeper detailed body of my brother's chest caged clouds of red, black, and green.

“As you can see you have stage 2 of the Ashen, the red that covers this area here-” Dr. Nives circled the red that surrounded the upper left of my brother's chest.

“Covers your heart, but after running the test I see your red cells are fighting the virus and it knocks more time for you.” A lump formed in my throat as the last 4 words flew out his mouth.

“Wait, what do you mean more time?” His eyes soften sending me a sympathetic look, Jaime gasped softly looking down at his hands.

“Well from the lab work it shows that you had 3 months, but at how good your cells are handling the virus you have 6 months to a year.” He finished taking his gloves off and applying hand sanitizer,

“Since you ma’am we’re around him can we run some lab work for your safety?” He asked looking between Jaime and I. I looked at my brother to see him nodding my way, turning to the man I nodded as he clasp his hands together.

“Great. We can move you right next door so you can stay close to your brother.” Reassuring the both of us, I placed a kiss against his forehead following the doctor out. I took a seat onto the bed leaning against the back of the wall holding out my arm.

For the last 4 years I’ve noticed a big change in my appearance that it actually scares me on the inside. First year, I lost a tremendous amount of weight, the extra weight turned into bulk in the places I always wished for.. huh..

During the first year, the acne on my face disappeared in thin air. One minute I’m trying to clean the pores with three different facial cleansers, I go to bed, then the next I wake up and my face is so clear. I was changing for the better, yet the world was changing for the worst. That first year we lost almost 2 million lives, including a lot of the people around me.

The second year is what sparked my curiosity of my body. One night, I was cooking dinner for Jaime and I, having a heavy debate with who is better at shooting the knife slid through my palm causing Jaime to spring off the island placing his hand against the deep gash trying his best to stop the bleeding. We knew we couldn’t head to the hospital for the sake of our fathers identity and the groups, so Jaime wrapped my hand the best he could and called it a night. I didn’t like his Tostadas anyways. Next day, I woke up to change my bandage. I opened the wrap to see no gash from the night before. Eyebrows furrowing together I question my own body for the first time in my life.. I can’t be immortal, that’s only in books. Then I noticed it. From small paper cuts to bruises- my wounds healed faster than any other person. From taking days for a wound to close, a couple minutes and it’s gone. Clean. Like it was never there to begin with.

Last year, an incident had happened; Traumatizing to say. Snuck out with an old friend of mine, talking around the den says she’s been trying to make a move on me but me being me I waved them off knowing she’s not the type. Met up with her, got a couple drinks in headed back to her place, got a couple kisses in. The kissing escalated until this small beautiful voice that I heard years back echoed in my ears, jumping back, I stopped what we had and went home. Next day I received the news that she passed away AND GET THIS- JUST like Buck. Since then, her voice echoes in my ear. It’s been quiet the last month, I miss it though.

A pinch brought me out of my thoughts when the nurse smiled my way explaining what the blood was for and Dr.Nives will be in shortly to give me the news. I snooped around heading to my brothers room when my name was said from the doctors a couple rooms down from me.

“That can’t be possible, it’s only been 5 minutes and she’s literally clean from head to toe.” A nurse quarreled, a couple more murmurs were heard but Dr.Nives voice caught my attention-

“Let’s do Code A.” A gasp was heard from within their circle with multiple disagreements, confusion flashed my face until a ‘yes sir’ and footsteps were heard coming my way. I sprinted towards my room taking a seat sending Jaime a small text message.

“Heya Y/n, do you mind if I give you some antibiotics just in case you are diagnosed with the Ashen?” The nurse requested which I nodded extending my arm watching her place the small plate next to me. I squinted my eyes examining the shot that contained a weird dark substance.

“Why is the stuff black? Isn’t medicine a clear color for safety purposes?” I blurted out, watching the nurse grab the shot striking the needle into my vein. I grunted feeling the warm liquid enter my body, I huffed lightly leaning my head against the wall. Then, it hit me.

“Wait, what if my test comes back negative? Why do I need antibiotics?” I glanced at the nurse feeling my heartbeat raise as the room began to shrink.

“What’s… what’s happening to me?.” I whispered watching the nurse draw more blood from the previous spot. I felt like I needed to throw up, once the nurse left I wobbled towards my brothers room next door,

“Man bro we need to get some take out when we leave this place- Y/n? Are you okay?” Jaime rambled out then his face washed with concern as I stumbled onto his bed.

“I don’t feel so good Brother..” I breathed out looking up to lock eyes with his own. He gasped, wrapping his arms around me, rocking me back and forth.

“Y/n…” he whispered, watching my contacts with my brown eyes slowly drain into this grey/golden color.

“What the hell happened?” He asked turning towards the door making sure no one came in.

“They gave me the Sinister Ash.. I can feel it in my chest. We have to go.” I grunted using all my strength to push myself off my brother's bed wobbling towards the door. A cough formed in my throat falling out my mouth, my hand flew to my mouth watching the black and red substance pool into my hands.

“Y/N?” Jaime shouted running to my side, I grabbed him for support walking out the room. I felt the fire in my chest pass when a small burp lashed out my lips. Sighing deeply I stood up straight facing Jaime.

“I… I feel better.” I mumbled opening the doors to the emergency waiting room. My body collided with another grabbing them instantly- I gasped at how quick my reflexes were, even Jaime’s eyes widened.

“Why thank you, I’m so sorry I- Y/m? Why are you not in your room?” Doctor Nives questioned looking between the both of us, I felt warm liquid on the side of my mouth. Quickly wiping it, a fake smile formed on my face slowly stepping back towards the exit just a couple feet from us.

“Sorry Doctor, but I think it’s time my brother and I head home- our father must be worried sick.” I bluffed, gripping my brother's wrist, giving him the signal.

“Y/n. We know who you both are.”

_______________

Thank you for the wait<3

taglist- @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda #The Avengers #avenger #powers #book #WLW #fanfiction

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mca-attack21 · 3 years

Text

The Case of the Killer Lightbulbs

Hi guys! This mini-series is based off an episode of criminal minds called ‘Amplification’. You can find more of my writing on my Masterlist here.

Working alongside Sherlock and John had put you in numerous compromising and even dangerous situations. It was not a rare occurrence to find yourself in harm’s way, but that never discouraged you. The way you had always viewed it was that John and Sherlock had gotten on fine before you, and they would continue in that fashion if for some reason you were incapacitated. Furthermore, you felt that there was no nobler way to die than saving/protecting the lives of others, especially those you cared about. This mindset of yours never faltered, even during “The Case of the Killer Lightbulbs” as John named it on his blog.

You were at the market when you got the call informing you to stop what you were doing and go outside where a car would be waiting for you. You were used to it by now, Mycroft was known to be the dramatic type. The ride was long and you wondered what the nature if thus case would be: Murder? Blackmail? Theft? National Security? Or, was it just Mycroft trying to get information on his little brother again? Whatever your thought process was during that car ride, it did not prepare you for what was coming next.

You were taken to Scotland yard which was swarming with various officials from detectives, to the military, to the CDC. You were led through to a room where Mycroft, John, and Sherlock sat.

“Okay, you may go now, shut the door on the way out,” Mycroft said to your escort.

As she did, he passed a folder to you, Sherlock, and John and began debriefing, “Yesterday 24 people checked into local area hospitals, all of them with the same symptoms, all of them had been at the same park around 4 pm yesterday. Now at just after 8 am, 14 of the 24 are dead. Lung failure and black legions among a myriad of other symptoms.”

“Anthrax?” John asked.

“Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast,” you replied.

“Unless it has been genetically altered,” Sherlock surmised, “What do we know about this strain?”

“The spores are weaponized, reduced to a spiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. They are both odorless and invisible. The normal antidote is not effective against this strain,” Mycroft explained.

“Why exactly are we here?” John asked.

“We believe that this was a trial run, but don’t know what for. An outbreak in London would be detrimental, so we’ve called you lot in,” Mycroft replied, “You have full access to any resources you deem necessary,” he added handed you special badges, “Finally, here is Cipro, we don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s worth a shot. I wish you the best of luck.”

You, Sherlock, and John downed the pills and were left alone in the office as Mycroft had to step out.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you said, still trying to get your head around the idea.

“It isn’t the first time, and most definitely won’t be the last,” Sherlock replied.

“So, where do we even start?” John asked.

Over the next two days, the three of you visited the hospital and spoke with remaining victims, analyzed the strain in the lab, located a second but smaller attack that happened weeks ago but only affected 4 people, and started to narrow in on a suspect list. You also created a list of possible targets, however it was too large to do any good. The three of you had come to realize that you were looking for someone with a significant background concerning biological agents. You knew that the person you were looking for most likely was in cohorts with the military or CDC and had a relation with the bookstore that was the target of the first attack. It wasn’t long before Sherlock had discovered who was behind it all.

This led you and Sherlock along with a team from the CDC to the home of Alfred Wilson to further investigate. John was at the hospital lending his medical assistance. And Mycroft and his men went to Wilson’s workplace and other known frequented locations. You and Sherlock stood outside as you waited for the all-clear.

“While they are doing that we should probably take a look around,” Sherlock decided.

The two of you walked towards the back of the house looking for anything out of the ordinary. Sherlock was distracted by a phone call from Mycroft explaining that the lab was clean and Wilson was still MIA. Sherlock turned to inform you of this news but realized that you had wandered off.

“Y/n?” he called and looked for you. He found the path that you must have followed. “Y/n,” he called again. He saw the shack and darted towards it, “Y/n!”

That is when you came into his line of vision, “Sherlock get back! Get back, get out of here!” you shouted frantically locking the door.

“Y/n? What are you doing? I don’t-” he started, but then he saw the broken container of white powder and the ventilation system. This was where Wilson had developed and even tested the strains. And you had already been exposed, which meant that if the Cipros was ineffective as it most likely would be against this mutated strain, you had less than 24 hours.

He called Mycroft who got the necessary people there. They wanted to get you out and to the hospital as soon as possible, that was not your plan though.

“Y/n, the CDC is here, they are preparing to extract you,” Sherlock explained through the phone.

“There’s no point, I’ve already been infected, I might as well work to solve the case,” you argued.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mycroft interjected.

“Sherlock, take me off of speakerphone,” you ordered.

“Alright, tell me what you see,” Sherlock humored you.

“Alright, well first off Dr. Wilson is dead, so we can rule him out. There are two workspaces and two sets of handwriting on the papers. So he either had a partner or protege,” you paused as a fit of coughing took over, “I’ve read through everything in here, the cure isn’t here. But maybe they can take the spores and reverse engineer them.”

“Okay, Y/n. Is there anything else that sticks out to you?” he asked.

You were going to continue but the coughing took over again. You hung up the phone to spare Sherlock. By the time you caught your breath John was entering in an orange hazmat suit.

“Orange is not your color,” you joked, “On a serious note how are the patients at the hospital?”

“Right now, let’s focus on you,” he redirected, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you replied.

“Are you sure? I could give you something to ease the pain,” he explained.

“I’m fine and I don’t want to take any narcotics,” you snapped.

“Okay, no narcotics, got it,” he confirmed, “how can I help?” he asked.

“I read through all of the papers and none of them talk about the cure, but I think that it has to be in here somewhere. Probably hidden considering that Dr. Wilson was a former military scientist. He was paranoid and most likely tried to protect the cure from his partner. So look for something innocuous, something that you wouldn’t expect,” you explained, starting to feel slightly light-headed. That is when your phone rang again.

“Yes Sherlock?” you answered.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“That is irrelevant, why’d you call?”

“Mycroft said that Wilson’s co-workers were unaware of him having a partner. Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”

You went over to the desk again scanning for what you missed. It was like it was on the tip of your tongue, but your brain was too foggy to see it.

“Just list off everything that is on their desks,” Sherlock said wishing that he was in there with you.

“Wait, I’ve got it,” you replied, “Dr. Wilson was a professor. He has syllabi and a framed picture of him teaching. I even read a paper that he graded, or so I thought. He wouldn’t let just anyone into his lab but clearly,” you started before being interrupted by a wave of painful coughing, “he valued himself as an educator. What if the second desk wasn’t a partner, but a student? And the paper, it was formatted like a thesis. See if Mycroft can crossmatch the list of Wilson’s students and/or students at the university that Wilson taught at with past employees or customers of the bookstore.”

“Okay, will do,” he said hanging up.

“Y/n, you did good, now we need to get you to the hospital,” John tried.

“Okay,” you conceded knowing that there wasn’t anything else you could do there. A couple of CDC workers came and took you to a decontamination shower that they had set up, with John close behind.

“John, go help Sherlock,” you instructed.

“I’m gonna stay here and see you off to the hospital,” he insisted.

“I am about to be stripped down and bathed, my pride can’t take the thought of you witnessing that. Besides the way I see it, you can either stay here and watch me die or go out and prevent it from happening.”

“If you’re sure,” John replied, feeling torn.

“Go on,” you reassured him.

———————

Tags: @fanfictionsilove @delightfulheartdream

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :)

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock imagine #sherlock imagines #bbc sherlock imagines #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes imagine

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gmariam19 · 3 years

Text

Should we put trigger warnings for quarantine fics? If you've had a bad experience with the pandemic during the last year, this is about Finn and Poe being placed in quarantine on the Falcon. It's not dark and depressing at all, but fyi just in case you need to pass. I'll put something in the tags, too!

I finally wrote a Finnpoe quarantine scene! There were so many at the beginning of this, but 18 months in and I've finally put Finn and Poe in quarantine myself.

So, yes - this goes with the last three I've posted, but it's probably my favorite so far, so it gets its own post. Plus the other one was getting too long.

The fic is a five times fic and evolving a little more toward five times they could have and one time they did. Or something like that! I've written four out of five so far, but I'm still trying to decide how to approach the last ones - points of view, happy or sad, who says what, etc. It could go a lot of ways, and I want it to be at least a smidge different.

Anyway, enjoy this one! Happy Monday! :)

4. Quarantine

“We’re both infected,” Finn announces as he returns from the cockpit of the Falcon after talking to Dr. Kalonia. “Quarantine for at least three days.” Poe is still sitting dejectedly at the dejarik table where Finn left him, staring at nothing as he ignores the glass of juice and small meal in front of him. He also ignores Finn until Finn is literally standing in front of him.

“Poe?” he asks. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Oh, hey buddy,” Poe replies, as if he’s just realized Finn is there. He looks up and squints at him with a grimace. “It’s bright in here. I didn’t hear anything.”

Finn is not sure what the lights have to do with Poe’s hearing, but it’s clear that Poe feels even worse than he did ten minutes ago. He dims the iights and sits down next to the pilot, pushing the other man’s food forward. “You should eat something. Dr. Kalonia says so.”

Poe snorts and picks at his food. “She’s mean. And probably wrong.”

“She’s a doctor,” Finn points out. “And she’s not wrong. You look like shit, and I’ll probably look the same by tomorrow.” Kalonia had said the virus was extremely contagious, intense but short-lived. She had also warned him Poe was a terrible patient when he was sick. Finn has seen Poe injured, watched the pilot’s stubborn determination to either ignore it and carry on as if he’s fine, or do everything possible to recover as fast as he can and get back to work. Apparently, Poe’s responses to things like fever, chills, body aches, and fatigue are far more melodramatic.

“She wouldn’t let me fly once with a cold,” Poe tells him. “A kriffing cold! Said the pressure would mess with my head too much, could blow out my eyes and ears. I think she was making it up.” He pauses, turns to Finn with sad eyes. “And sorry if I look like shit, but I feel like it too.”

“I know you do.” Finn digs deep for patience, sensing Kalonia was spot on. She said to just let Poe wallow in order to preserve Finn’s own sanity, but Finn doesn’t want to abandon his friend. He really does look miserable, and Finn is dreading the start of his own symptoms. “Kalonia’s just looking out for us. She said the virus doesn’t last long, we should be over it quick.”

“She still locked us up in here, didn’t she?” Poe asks. He pushes his plate away and leans back. “Three days? What the hell are we going to do for three days?” He sounds even more upset about it than Finn had anticipated. Did Poe have big plans? Does he not want to be stuck in one place for so long? Is he missing someone back on the base?

“We can catch up on some sleep,” Finn jokes. “Or our reports. Maybe Snap can get us some holovids to watch, or we can—” He stops at the scornful look on Poe’s face. “What? It’s only three days.”

“Three days!” Poe exclaims. He waves his arms over his head, barely misses hitting Finn. “Trapped in here, alone, with nothing to do, for three days! When we could be out there, doing something, making a difference. We gotta head back to Sinta Glacier next week, you know.”

“Hang on,” Finn says. He knows he shouldn’t get too involved given that he was already warned off by a professional, but he’s going to anyway. Because Poe’s reluctance to quarantine feels personal, somehow. Like he doesn’t want to be with Finn for three days. “You’re not alone, I’m here too, and we can—”

Poe snorts again, and Finn stops, gives him an exasperated (and probably hurt) look. “So spending three days with me is that bad, is it? Sorry for the inconvenience, then.”

Poe’s eyes widen comically, and he leans forward so much he almost falls into Finn, clutching his shoulders. “No! No, buddy, of course not! But three days with me? You’d be better off alone—or maybe dead!”

“Don’t be ridiculous—of course I wouldn’t be better off,” Finn tells him. Melodramatic, indeed: Poe could win awards. “I don’t like being alone, you know that. And dead is even worse.”

“You’ve never been stuck with me, not like this,” Poe mutters. “I’m a terrible patient.”

“I can tell. But I’ve never been sick, so maybe I am too,” Finn replies, then continues before Poe can make a comment about either statement. “Besides, we’ve shared blankets and beds —hell, we even pretended to be kriffing married to get those parts and intel we needed a few weeks ago. I think we can make it three days with killing each other.”

Poe stares at him, mouth hanging slightly open, eyes brimming with…well, something. Tears, mucus, deep feelings? “I love your optimism.”

Finn rolls his eyes. “Well, I don’t like your doubts, so get rid of them. We can do this. We’ve made it through crazier things than this.” Which is absolutely true when Finn thinks about the incident with Chewie and the red dress. He shakes the image out of his mind.

Poe’s shoulders droop as he sighs heavily. He lets his head fall to the table. “Quarantine. Why did it have to be quarantine?” He lifts his head and offers Finn a watery smile, reaches out to lay a hand on his arm. “I’m glad it’s with you, buddy.”

“And I’m glad it’s with you, too—but we are definitely not sharing a bed this time,” Finn says, earning a laugh from Poe that ends in a groan as he lays his head down again. Finn rubs his shoulders, thinking about that particular mission. It had actually been okay, sharing a bed—perfectly fine, maybe even a little nice, but they are sick after all. And definitely not together, no matter what Marri Kir had thought.

Sometimes Finn wonders why, and if it will ever change.

And then he sneezes violently, and his head starts pounding, and he knows it probably won’t happen in quarantine.

#Finnpoe #Stormpilot #Poe Dameron #finn (star wars)#Fanfic #Five plus one #illness #quarantine #quarantine fic #sick fic #trigger warning #Poe gets sick #And he's not a good patient

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crowtrinkets · 3 years

Text

Wet Cobblestone

The Apprentice works as Julian's apprentice, but they're having a hard time dealing with the reality of the Red Plague. They miss Asra and try to find comfort in... other forms.

Julian and GN!Apprentice

Word Count: 4,095

Warning: Drinking to cope and big sad

(Am I writing to avoid responsibilities? Yes)

---

Wet cobblestone. It's never really a thing you pay attention to, not unless you’re trying to forget something. Something so heart-wrenchingly cruel and painful that you’ll pay attention to the sounds of your boots sauntering across wet cobblestone. Trying to clear your mind after condemning someone to death. Life was easy when I was simply a magician, before the plague, before Asra, before I became a doctor’s apprentice. I didn’t think it would be this difficult, I thought I could cure the plague. But at this point, it’s become a wave, and it’s going to swallow this city whole. I should have left.

The bell jingling on the door of Julian's clinic snaps me out of my thoughts. I didn’t even realize I had already made my way across town from my house call. I was returning from a patient visit. It wasn’t a good one. I remove my mask and take a deep sigh, wiping the sweat off my skin, it may be cold out in Vesuvia but wearing a mask for hours takes its toll. I drop my mask onto Julian's desk as I walk into the back supply room. A wave of emotions overtakes me as I feel my heart racing in my chest. I take a deeply pained gasp trying to compose myself, but it only wills the tears into falling faster. The aching pain in my heart manifests itself in my sobs, I cover my mouth with my leather gloved hand trying to stifle it. Falling to my knees I sob silently. Mourning the victims, mourning myself, mourning my confidence. Did I really think I could cure the plague? Me? A lowly magician? One who couldn’t even manage a relationship, and drove my once chance away.

The wind howls outside, whistling as it makes its way through the drafts of Julian’s clinic. I continue to cry but not as hard. It always goes like this, I hide, I cry, I stop and I go back to work. Slowly standing, I sniffle and wipe my face with my sleeve. I then hear footsteps and start to frantically dry my eyes. I can’t let Julian see me like this, he always tries to take the burden of my pain and I can't let him do that, he’s already too busy. Still wiping my face I quickly walk out of the supply closet but run head-on into the man in front of me.

“Oh my! Oh hello there MC? Oh uh… are you alright?” It's Julian. I avoid looking at him, hoping he doesn’t see the redness of my eyes, stinging from my tears. I slowly nod.

“Yes… I’m alright Julian, thank you,” I slowly back away but he brings an arm around my shoulder.

“Come, I think we both deserve some tea, hm?” He guides me to the clinic kitchen. It's small and has an even smaller chair with a few tables. But it's cozy and a perfect place for tea, and for becoming existential on those especially hard days. I sit at the table and Julian approaches the stove. He fills the kettle with water and searches for matches to light the wood-fire stove.

“Hrm uh, I can’t seem to find the uh… would you mind?” Before he can finish I give Julian a quick nod as I approach the stove. Opening the hatch I use my magic to create a modest fire.

“Ahh, thank you, my dear, I knew having a magician as an apprentice would come in handy,” Julian winks, it causes me to give a small smile, but in an instant, it's gone, and I turn to take my place back at the table. Julian takes to standing by the stove, almost like he thinks watching the pot will cause the water to boil faster. It does not matter to me, I’m still going through the motions of my solo adventure in the supply closet. A few minutes go by and Julian prepares two cups of tea. He offers me sugar which I accept, before placing my cup in front of me and taking the seat across. We sit in silence, sipping our warm beverages, listening to the wind howling outside as rain slowly approaches. The sweetness of the sugar is nice on my tongue, but I still feel the ache in my chest. Julian can’t seem to sit still. His eyes shift from me to his cup, me, cup, the wall, cup, me. I can’t take his fidgeting much longer.

“Are you going to ask me why I was crying?” Julian jumps a little when I break the silence.

“I don’t wish to impose but, not every day you find your apprentice crying in a supply closet,” he attempts to joke. Oh if only he knew.

“I made a house call, to a family of four. They’re all infected and very far along in their symptoms,” I circle my finger around the rim of my cup, attempting to keep my composure. “They’re all being sent to the Lazaret as we speak,” Julian gives me a knowing nod. Humming in response as he glares into his cup. We both know this feeling too well. Having to send innocent people to their demise, where they will be cremated, and buried. Without a marker, without a proper funeral.

“You know what they said to me?” My voice wavers. “They said that they were going to dress in the nicest clothing they had before they left for the Lazaret… so they could go out… looking their best,” hot wet tears start to fall down my face again. I bring my hand to my face, but I stop when the leather makes contact with my hand. These hands, they try to help, but all they can do is condemn people to death, and prolong their suffering by keeping them alive, occasionally aiding the pain. But it's only temporary. I rip off my gloves and send them across the room. As far away from me as possible. Bringing my face into my hands I begin to sob once again.

I hear Julian stand in his chair, and then I feel two arms bring me into the warm hug. The first hug I’ve had in… a while, not since before my fight with Asra. I turn into his chest, letting ugly sobs escape me, while I cling to him like a lost child. All Julian does is hug me, stroking my back with a hand. But it’s the comfort I’ve needed for a while.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be working and here I am sobbing into your shoulder,” I finally pull away from Julian, my hands still on his chest. He keeps one hand on my shoulder, while the other rests on my hand placed over his heart.

“Well I didn’t think we were on the clock, I thought we were just having a tea break hm?” Julian's warm voice always seemed to soothe me in times of stress. But I’ve never broken down like this in front of him. Ever since taking up my apprenticeship with him, I’ve always tried to be the stronger one. Julian is definitely one for dramatics so I thought I had to be strong to compensate. For the sake of morals. What a load of good that did me.

I give Julian a nod, and stare at his hand, pressed softly on top of mine. Despite his gloves, I can feel just how cold his hands are. When I brought it up in the past he said something about it “matching his heart” but I know in reality Julian is a softy. I mean he made me tea and let me cry into his clothes. I flush slightly and pull my hands back. How long have I been holding on to him?

“Thank you, Julian,” I gaze into his kind, stormy eyes. He looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well. I probably look no better, however. I can't sleep. I spend every night haunted by my patients, their cries and wet coughs echoing in my head. I can't even sleep in my own bed, it feels empty and without life. Sometimes I sleep at my desk in the clinic. I wait until Julian has left, or has promptly passed out at his own desk, and try to get some sleep, but even then.

My eyes travel Julian’s face as he still crouches beside me, a hand on my shoulder. I reach my hand up and I tuck a strand of his auburn hair behind his ear, he shivers slightly at the contact. Is this ok? To be like this towards him? I’m his apprentice but… maybe I can be selfish. Just this once. I grab his other hand, lacing our fingers together. Julian’s eyes have gone wide, a flush of pink settling on his face. He stands instantly, pulling away, and clears his throat.

“W-well it seems the rain has let up? And oh! It must be half past 5, and you know what they say about 5 o’clock,” gathering our now cold tea and disposing of it. I suddenly feel cold at the loss of his touch. No, maybe I was doing too much. We work together this isn't some fling like we’re teenagers. Professional, yes.

“I-I could go for a drink,” Julian whips around from the sink and looks at me. A grin forming on his lips. I stand and awkwardly grab my gloves from the corner where I threw them.

“I’ll just change into regular clothing, I think seeing a doctor at a bar will damper the mood,” with a nod from Julian, I exit into the bathroom where Julian and I keep our personal items. I remove my protective gear, undoing the claps and putting it away along with my gloves. I grab my travel cloak and swing it around my shoulders. Exiting the bathroom I go to find Julian. A few drinks couldn’t hurt especially after the day I had.

“Ready to go, my dear?” He asks exiting the kitchen, putting his arm out for me to grasp. With a nod I take it and we exit the clinic together.

—- At the Rowdy Raven

How many tankards has it been? 3? 4? 6? I lost track. The world around me swirls, I hear people shouting because of an unfair card game. I rub a hand across my face, my lips are numb, just like my emotions. Good, I don’t want to feel tonight. I can't remember the last time I drank this much. Julian approaches with a glass of water and hands it to me.

“I uh, think you should drink this, and maybe I should walk you home,” I take the glass reluctantly and take a sip. It's cold and soothes the burn in my chest.

“Wow doctor, if I didn’t know you well enough I think you’d be tryna get me to take you home,” my words slur out. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or my loneliness but Julian is looking extra… something. Shit, I'm not sure, my words are failing me. My eyes are blurry and sounds seem to echo but I think I can see Julian blushing.

“Just, drink your water, I don’t think you will be able to work effectively with a hangover,” he sits next to me and moves the glass closer. With a groan, I take the drink and slowly but eventually finish it all. Feeling a little bit more sober, Julian and I leave the Raven together.

Right out the door, I stumble, Julian catches me by the elbows.

“Woah there! Maybe I should’ve had you drink another glass,” he laughs putting an arm around me to support me, his embrace is warm in comparison to the biting cold wind outside. The walk back to my shop is quiet. There's no conversation, just the sound of our shoes tapping along the wet cobblestone, and me occasionally losing my balance. The wind starts to pick up, sending leaves through the air. I stumble a little against it as it whips my face leaving me shivering. That’ll sober you up. I then feel a drop fall onto my head. Julian and I stop mid-walk and look up at the sky.

“It would seem the storm has picked up,” I nod in response, Julian then looks at me, his usual smirk plastered on his lips. “Think you’re sober enough to run?” He asks.

“Run?” I tilt my head. Just then the rain starts to pick up, and a downpour approaches. “Run!” I shout. We both take off in the rain, headed towards my shop. I grab onto Julian's hand hoping to keep up with him and we laugh as we race through the streets. We finally approach my shop and I hastily open it so we can get warm and dry.

I close the door and lean against it, heart-pounding and breath heavy. Julian is leaning on the counter trying to catch his own breath. I watch as he runs a hand through his hair, sending rain droplets onto his shoulders. The moon shines through a window, illuminating his pale skin. My stomach starts to flutter with nerves, or maybe it's the alcohol. I gulp.

“My, I didn’t expect it to come down like that!” Julian laughs. He rights himself and walks in a circle, observing my shop. “I don’t think I’ve ever really seen the inside of your shop,” he glances at me.

“Oh yea, I um haven't been keeping it open lately cause I’ve been too busy so it’s a little messy… sorry,” I nervously fiddle with the seam of my cloak. Why am I so flustered? Professional! this is a PROFESSIONAL setting. Just two co-workers who went out for drinks… and held hands in the rain… and now he's wet... in my shop. Oh, he’s wet! He’s going to catch a cold!

“W-why don’t I make us some tea and I’ll grab you a towel dry off?” I head towards the stairs and stop before I go up, looking at Julian over my shoulder. Please follow please follow please follow. He nods and we both ascend the stairs.

After clumsily filling the kettle and starting the stove, Julian tries to make me sit, but I insist I am fine and that the rain sobered me up. However I am not fine, I can manage on my own but my emotions are all over the place, why is Julian making me feel so strange? Why am I feeling things towards him? Like I want him to touch me and... No! Professional.

I find a few mismatched towels and bring them over. I hand them to Julian as I take one myself and dry myself off. I technically have a spell to fix all this but… I don’t want him to leave. Julian wraps a towel around his shoulders as he sits in a chair at the table. And then silence falls upon us once again.

“Um, thank you again, Julian, you always seem to know how to cheer me up,” I stand awkwardly, shifting my weight and avoiding Julian's eyes.

“Well, what kind of boss would I be if I didn’t take my employees out every once in a while?” He tries to be suave, but I can sense some unease in his voice. Water drips from his hair to his shoulders.

“Oh! Your hair is still wet,” I approach the table and grab a smaller towel, placing it on Julian, covering his face. Without thinking I begin to dry his hair. Rubbing the towel all over.

“Oh um, thank you,” Julian says. I freeze in place. What the hell am I doing. I slowly move my hands from the top of Julian's head to the back, towards his nape, where I slowly pull off the towel so it falls on his shoulders revealing his face. However, never in all my days did I expect Julian to be gazing at me like he was. His eyes were wide, filled with surprise and wonder. His mouth agape as he looked up at me, still slouched in the chair while I stand between his legs. My arms rest on his shoulders as I look down at him. Neither of us speaks a word. Suddenly I feel Julian’s arms, wrap around my back, he’s not grabbing me, just holding me, keeping me in place. I catch his eyes flick up and down multiple times. And I would be lying if I said mine wasn’t doing so too. The moonlight once again beams through the window as it pokes through the clouds. Illuminating Julians face with a cool glow. But at the same moment, my eye catches a glimpse of something on the table. I look over Julian's shoulders at it. No, it can't be, it was too dark in here to see but now that the moon is out... I see it. The succulent Asra bought me a while ago. It’s dead. A wave of emotion overtakes me, I look down at Julian who stares up at me, confused and almost expectantly.

“Julian, I-I’m so sorry,” I pull away from him, turning my back to face him. Trying to hide my embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have done that, or any of the things I did, I’m sorry. I’m just a mess,”

“A mess? Whatever makes you say that” I hear Julian stand, the chair squeaking as he pushes it back into place. I turn around and gesture towards the potted plant in the center of the table.

“The plant it was a gift from… from a friend, and I let it die,” My vision starts to become blurry once again.

“Well I’m sure your friend would understand, you have been busy lately-“

“You don’t understand!” The flood gates open. “I can’t even keep a plant alive let alone my patients! And all day I’ve just been selfish trying to flirt with you when I could have been working!” The ugly sobs return, I cry into my towel, hoping I’ll open my eyes and all of this will be a dream. How embarrassing I must look.

In the midst of my cries I hear the kettle started whistling. Mid sob, I turn toward the kitchenette and prepare tea for Julian and me. No cream or sugar for Julian, a teaspoon of sugar for myself. I turn around to give Julian his tea but he’s already behind me, reaching for the cup. He takes his drink and sits back at the table, and I join him with my respective cup. Snapping my finger, I like the singular candle on my kitchen table. Once again we are sat in silence drinking our tea. I’ve stopped sobbing, but my tears continue to fall.

“I’m sorry again Julian,” I sniffle between words. “I cannot lie I had an ulterior motive to bring you to my shop, but I shouldn’t have done that,” I’m too embarrassed to even meet his gaze.

“It’s alright, I cannot lie and say I didn’t sense you were up to something, so in a sense, I should also be apologizing,” I meet Julian’s eyes once again, he’s staring at me with a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. Taking a sip of his tea he continues.

“I understand it’s been hard for… all of us, because of the plague, but you can't allow it to overtake you and make you feel weak,” at this point I have calmed down, my cheeks stained in tears and my nose sniffly. I nod in response, gazing at my poor succulent.

“You said a friend gifted it to you?” Julian tries to strike up a conversation.

“Yes… he um loved to travel and would bring me gifts often,” I take a sip of my tea trying to keep myself composed.

“Were you close?” Julian asks. My eyes shift to his wondrous expression.

“Yes along the lines of that,” I pause for a second contemplating if I should tell him. “We got into an argument when the plague first became really bad. He wanted to leave, and I wanted to stay and help… So he left,” the last few words taste bitter in my mouth.

“Do you miss him?” I pause for a minute before I finally nod. Embarrassed to confess to Julian I was essentially trying to use him.

“I hope you don’t think ill of me… I should really stay away from the bottle,” I laugh bitterly. Julian quietly laughs in response.

“I could never think ill of you,”

“Thank you….” I glance out the window, the rain is still coming down hard. I don’t want to kick Julian out after I treated him so terribly.

“Would you like to sleep here, tonight? Just because of the rain and… I would feel awful sending you to walk home in that,” I gesture to the window. Julian gives me a smile and nods.

“Yes that would be lovely, I can sleep on the floor,”

“Oh no! You can sleep in my bed I insist!”

“I feel sleeping in your bed is a step backward from today,” he jokes. I flush with embarrassment.

“I suppose so,” I stand from the table and collect the cups and bring them to the sink. After cleaning the mess and gathering the laundry I hand Julian some pillows and blankets from my bed. Julian then goes into the bathroom to get ready for bed leaving me alone. I quickly change into my sleep clothes and stare at my bed before climbing in. I haven’t slept in my own bed in a while. I’ve been avoiding my shop like… well, you know. The memory of Asra and I fighting haunts me in my sleep. And now all I can think of when I’m here is how he would hold me in bed. I couldn’t bear to sleep in it alone.

“Well I don’t think staring at your bed will help you fall asleep any faster,” I whip around to see Julian, standing in nothing but trousers. I try not to let him see my flush.

“Yes of course,” I crawl into bed and wrap myself in a blanket and try not to stare while Julian approaches and lays on the floor beside my bed. He lets out a sigh once he’s comfortable and then there is silence. Had it not been for the rain beating hard on the windows, Julian would have heard my loud nervous breathing. I can’t remember the last time I slept in my own bed let alone while someone was here with me. I shut my eyes and try to will myself asleep.

Nothings working, my mind wanders worried about my patients, about my poor plants, about Asra, about Julian, about my shop. Anything and everything is causing anxiety in my mind. I toss and turn in bed trying to get comfortable but nothing works. After what feels like 2 hours have passed I finally open my eyes and let out a huff.

“Can’t sleep?” Julian’s groggy tone cuts through the silence. I let out a sigh.

“Yes… I haven’t had much sleep lately, I guess I’m not used to sleeping alone,”

“We’ll you’re technically not alone right now…”

“Yes I guess you’re right… But there's a difference between someone sleeping in your bed and someone sleeping next to your bed,” Julian lets out a short laugh.

“Yes I guess that is so, I’ve never had the best luck sleeping either… would you… would you want me to hold your hand?”

“What?” I quickly sit up and look over the edge of my bed at Julian. It’s very dark but I feel that I can see him blushing.

“Well you know, so you don’t feel like you’re sleeping alone,” his voice wavers slightly. I guess that makes sense.

“Ok,” I say. I then lay on my stomach and scooch to the edge of the bed and allow my arm to hang over the side, my hand finds Julians and we both lay there in silence. Our hands interlocked, listening as the rain comes down in the streets. Julian's hands are still cold as usual, but it’s soothing in a sense, against my hands that are usually hot and aching with tension like the rest of my body. I eventually hear Julian’s breath still into a sleepy rhythm. I keep my eyes on him, watching his chest rise and fall as tendrils of moonlight poke through the curtains. Eventually, I close my eyes, and slowly but surely I fall asleep into a warm comforting slumber.

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana julian #julian devorak #ilya devorak #the arcana fanfic #crow writes

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linastudyblrsblog · 4 years

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Burnout, unfortunately, is everywhere. If you haven’t experienced it personally, you probably know someone who has self-diagnosed.

Defined by the World Health Organization as a syndrome “conceptualized as resulted from chronic workplace stress,” it causes exhaustion, “feelings of negativism or cynicism,” and reduced efficacy. That’s a big umbrella, and the condition has become something of a catch-all for chronic, modern-day stress.

Here are 11 of our favorites to help you create your own escape plan:

1. Figure out which kind of burnout you have.

The Association for Psychological Science found that burnout comes in three different types, and each one needs a different solution:

1. Overload: The frenetic employee who works toward success until exhaustion, is most closely related to emotional venting. These individuals might try to cope with their stress by complaining about the organizational hierarchy at work, feeling as though it imposes limits on their goals and ambitions. That coping strategy, unsurprisingly, seems to lead to a stress overload and a tendency to throw in the towel.

2. Lack of Development: Most closely associated with an avoidance coping strategy. These under-challenged workers tend to manage stress by distancing themselves from work, a strategy that leads to depersonalization and cynicism — a harbinger for burning out and packing up shop.

3. Neglect: Seems to stem from a coping strategy based on giving up in the face of stress. Even though these individuals want to achieve a certain goal, they lack the motivation to plow through barriers to get to it

2. Cut down and start saying “no.”

Every “yes” you say adds another thing on your plate and takes more energy away from you, and your creativity:

If you take on too many commitments, start saying ‘no’. If you have too many ideas, execute a few and put the rest in a folder labeled ‘backburner’. If you suffer from information overload, start blocking off downtime or focused worktime in your schedule (here are some tools that may help). Answer email at set times. Switch your phone off, or even leave it behind. The world won’t end. I promise.

3. Give up on getting motivated.

With real burnout mode, you’re too exhausted to stay positive. So don’t:

When you’re mired in negative emotions about work, resist the urge to try to stamp them out. Instead, get a little distance — step away from your desk, focus on your breath for a few seconds — and then just feel the negativity, without trying to banish it. Then take action alongside the emotion. Usually, the negative feelings will soon dissipate. Even if they don’t, you’ll be a step closer to a meaningful achievement.

4. Treat the disease, not the symptoms.

For real recovery and prevention to happen, you need to find the real, deeper issue behind why you’re burnt out:

Instead of overreacting to the blip, step back from it, see it as an incident instead of an indictment, and then examine it like Sherlock Holmes looking for clues.

For example, you could ask yourself: What happened before the slip? Did I encounter a specific trigger event such as a last-minute client request? Was there an unusual circumstance such as sickness? When did I first notice the reversion in my behavior? Is some part of this routine unsustainable and if so, how could I adjust it to make it more realistic?

5. Make downtime a daily ritual.

To help relieve pressure, schedule daily blocks of downtime to refuel your brain and well-being. It can be anything from meditation to a nap, a walk, or simply turning off the wifi for a while:

When it comes to scheduling, we will need to allocate blocks of time for deep thinking. Maybe you will carve out a 1-2 hour block on your calendar every day for taking a walk or grabbing a cup of coffee and just pondering some of those bigger things. I can even imagine a day when homes and apartments have a special switch that shuts down wi-fi and data access during dinner or at night – just to provide a temporary pause from the constant flow of status updates and other communications…

There is no better mental escape from our tech-charged world than the act of meditation. If only for 15 minutes, the ability to steer your mind away from constant stimulation is downright liberating. There are various kinds of meditation. Some forms require you to think about nothing and completely clear your mind. (This is quite hard, at least for me.) Other forms of meditation are about focusing on one specific thing – often your breath, or a mantra that you repeat in your head (or out loud) for 10-15 minutes…

If you can’t adopt meditation, you might also try clearing your mind the old fashioned way – by sleeping. The legendary energy expert and bestselling author Tony Schwartz takes a 20-minute nap every day. Even if it’s a few hours before he presents to a packed audience, he’ll take a short nap.

6. Stop being a perfectionist; start satisficing.

Trying to maximize every task and squeeze every drop of productivity out of your creative work is a recipe for exhaustion and procrastination. Set yourself boundaries for acceptable work and stick to them:

Consistently sacrificing your health, your well being, your relationships, and your sanity for the sake of living up to impossible standards will lead to some dangerous behaviors and, ironically, a great deal of procrastination. Instead of saying, “I’ll stay up until this is done,” say, “I’ll work until X time and then I’m stopping. I may end up needing to ask for an extension or complete less than perfect work. But that’s OK. I’m worth it.” Making sleep, exercise, and downtime a regular part of your life plays an essential role in a lasting, productive creative career.

7. Track your progress every day.

Keeping track allows you to see exactly how much is on your plate, not only day-to-day, but consistently over time:

Disappointing feedback can be painful at first – research shows that failure and losses can hurt twice as much as the pleasure of equivalent gains. But if you discover you’re off course, reliable feedback shows you by how much, and you then have the opportunity to take remedial action and to plot a new training regime or writing schedule. The temporary pain of negative feedback is nothing compared with the crushing experience of project failure. Better to discover that you’re behind and need to start writing an hour earlier each day, than to have your book contract rescinded further down the line because you’ve failed to deliver.

8. Change location often.

Entrepreneurs or freelancers can be especially prone to burnout. Joel Runyon plays “workstation popcorn,” in which he groups tasks by location and then switches, in order to keep work manageable, provide himself frequent breaks, and spend his time efficiently:

You find yourself spending hours at your computer, dutifully “working” but getting very little done. You finish each day with the dreaded feeling that you’re behind, and that you’re only falling farther and farther behind. You’re buried below an ever-growing to-do list. There’s a feeling of dread that tomorrow is coming, and that it’s bringing with it even more work that you probably won’t be able to get ahead on.

List out everything you need to do today. Try to be as specific as you can…Next, break that list into three sections. Step 1: Go to cafe [or desk, a different table in your office, etc.] #1. Step 2: Start working on item group #1…Once you finish all the tasks in group #1, get up and move. Close your tabs, pack your bags, and physically move your butt to your next spot. If you can, walk or bike to your next stop…When you get to the next cafe [or spot], start on the next action item group, and repeat…

When you’ve completed everything on your to-do list for the day, you are done working. Relax, kick back, and live your life. Don’t take work home with you because that won’t help you get more done – it will just wear you out.

9. Don’t overload what downtime you do get.

Vacations themselves can cause, or worsen burnout, with high-stress situations, expectations, and sleep interruption. Use it to help in recovery from burnout instead:

Make a flexible itinerary a priority. [A] study from Radboud University found that effective vacations give you the choice and freedom to choose what you want to do. That means two things: Try to avoid structuring your vacation around an unbreakable schedule, and plan on going somewhere that has multiple options to pick from depending on the weather, your level of energy, or your budget.

10. Write yourself fan mail.

Seth Godin uses self-fan mail as a way to keep motivated instead of burning out on a project that seems far from completion:

I define non-clinical anxiety as, “experiencing failure in advance.” If you’re busy enacting a future that hasn’t happened yet, and amplifying the worst possible outcomes, it’s no wonder it’s difficult to ship that work. With disappointment, I note that our culture doesn’t have an easily found word for the opposite. For experiencing success in advance. For visualizing the best possible outcomes before they happen. Will your book get a great testimonial? Write it out. Will your talk move someone in the audience to change and to let you know about it? What did they say? Will this new product gain shelf space at the local market? Take a picture. Writing yourself fan mail in advance, and picturing the change you’ve announced you’re trying, to make is an effective way to push yourself to build something that actually generates that action.

11. Break projects into bite-sized pieces.

Taking a task on in one entire lump can be exhausting and provide little room for rest in between. Breaking up your projects into set chunks with their own deadlines provides a much healthier, and easier, way of completing a large project:

The default take on deadlines is typically to consider them to be cumbersome and stressful. Yet, from another perspective, a deadline can be viewed as a huge benefit to any project. Without the urgency of a hard deadline pushing a project to completion, it’s easy for you, your team, or your client to lose focus. We’ve all worked on agonizing projects where the timeline just bleeds on and on, merely because the flexibility is there…

It turns out that the manner in which a task is presented to someone – or the way in which you present it to your brain – has a significant impact on how motivated you will be to take action. A study led by researcher Sean McCrea at the University of Konstanz in Germany recently found that people are much more likely to tackle a concrete task than an abstract task… It seems to me like the difference between being handed a map versus following the step-by-step instructions of a GPS device. Not everyone can read a map, but everyone can follow the directions. By breaking your project down into smaller, well-described tasks, the way forward becomes clear and it’s easy to take action.

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averykedavra · 4 years

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Masterpost

This is a list of all my fanfictions and drabbles, loosely categorized by category, length, and pairing! You can also find them under the tag #averywrites. Feel free to prompt me if you want to see me write something! My Ao3 account is Avery_Kedavra.

Multichapter Fics:

Valley of the Dolls: Platonic DLAMPR. In progress. When Roman becomes a Dark Side, Remus is thrilled to have his brother around. But soon it becomes clear that without Creativity, everyone in the Mindscape is falling apart.

Leave No Trace: Romantic Moceit. Completed at 198k. Patton, his maybe-enemy Janus, and his best friend Virgil journey through a magical forest to rescue their friends from the dragons.

A Conversation I Overheard: Romantic LAMP. In progress. Roman attempts to support his friends’ new relationship, but struggles to get past his own feelings.

Events:

Soulmate September: A oneshot for each day, different pairings and different ways of finding your soulmate.

Whumptober: A oneshot for each day, different AUs and different hurt/comfort prompts (or just hurt, it depends!)

Holiday Exchanges: Yes, I entered enough to make a separate masterlist. Don’t judge me.

Oneshots:

Romantic:

LAMP:

Too Far Gone: Human AU. 16K words. Logan plays matchmaker for his three oblivious best friends. Then he realizes he doesn’t just see them as friends.

Logince:

Couldn’t Care Less: 4K words. Logan reluctantly agrees to accompany Roman on a quest in the Imagination, but after Roman gets hurt, Logan blames himself.

If Only To Say You’re Mine: Human AU. 2K words. Roman calls Logan late at night under the guise of conversation, but soon it’s clear that something else is going on.

Prinxiety:

Wherever We Are (It Feels Like Home): 8K words. When Virgil messes up and tries to apologize to Roman, Roman thinks something very different is going on--and they learn they might have some things to figure out.

Logicality:

Would You Be So Kind: Human AU. 4K words. Patton finally asks out his crush, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Loceit:

Enjoy This As Much As I Do: Human AU. 1.4K words. Logan doesn’t understand his feelings for Janus, but for once, he’s content with leaving it unknown. (Based off an AU by @/coconut-cluster.)

‘Cause It’s All About You: Human AU. 2K words. Janus might have made a mistake--but if he pretends everything’s fine, maybe they can forget about it. (Based off an AU by @/coconut-cluster.)

Dance With Losing It All: Spies AU. 3K words. After Janus gets hurt, Logan’s left struggling to help. (Based off a oneshot by @/coconut-cluster.)

Dukeceit:

Dry Ice: Human AU. 1.7K words. Remus has a terrible idea and Janus does his best to stop him.

Desleep:

The Days We’ve Been Waiting For: Human AU. 1K words. Remy attempts to cook breakfast for Janus on their anniversary.

Queerplatonic:

Dukeceit:

Will You Be There To Follow: Human AU. 3K words. Remus and Janus debate the merits of possible pets.

Platonic:

DLAMPR or DLAMPRT:

Make It Your Own: 3.9K words. Songfic of Streaks by ANIMA! The other Sides write stories but never Logan never participates. The reason why is complicated.

Come and Save My Day: 3K words. Since the last video, Roman hasn’t left the Imagination. When his brother drags him out, he receives the last thing he expected.

All I Want is Serenity: 13K words. Roman knows he needs to be perfect, but his persona is slipping, and he knows the other Sides will hate him when they find out how weak he really is.

Ready as I’ll Ever Be: 5.5k words. Post-FWSA. Roman and Virgil are excited about Thomas’ new date, but the other Sides raise some concerns.

DLAMP:

Aftermath: 2K words. Immediately after Putting Others First, Virgil deals with the fallout.

A Vision With Nowhere To Go: 1.7K words. Roman gathers the other Sides for assistance with picking his skirt.

LAMP:

Only Logical: 9K words. When Thomas is, once again, incapacitated due to his emotions, Logan takes the others to his room so they’ll finally listen to him.

Roceit:

Set All My Regrets on Fire: 10k words. Roman wants to apologize. Janus wants to explain. It's a shame neither of them can work up the courage to say hello.

Logince:

Our Bodies Made of Stardust: Human AU. 10K words. When Logan was six, he broke his arm trying to touch the stars. This is how he finally managed, twelve years later.

Logicality:

I Keep To Myself (I Want To Break Through): 10k words. Thomas worries that pursuing a relationship with Nico would be a huge mistake. When Logan and Patton try to help, they learn there’s something deeper going on.

Prinxiety:

Babysitters: Human AU. 600 words. After Roman and Virgil lose the kids they’re babysitting, they reluctantly team up to track them down.

Dukeceit:

No Longer Will You Deceive Yourself: 2K words. Remus knows Janus is going to leave. He just wishes Janus would get it over with.

Analogical:

Leap in the Dark: High school AU. 2K words. The last thing Virgil wants to do is talk on stage. But if he doesn’t, Logan has to, and Logan also doesn’t want to be seen.

Creativitwins:

Ever Slightly Out Of Reach: Ghost AU. 8K words. Roman doesn’t want to leave the house. Remus makes him a map, so he won’t get lost while Remus is gone. (Based off an AU by @/fanartfunart.)

No Pairings:

Scary: 500 words. Just a quick Remus angst drabble.

Honestly: 1.2k words. Virgil’s thoughts during Flirting With Social Anxiety.

Theories:

Paranoia Theory: Written on 4/22/20. Why Deceit taunts Virgil about his name in SvS. (Edit on 3/28/21: I should have written this earlier, but this theory wasn’t okay. ‘Paranoia’ headcanons misrepresent a serious symptom and experience of mental illness, and I was ignorant of that. I’m leaving the post up for completeness, but please know that I sincerely apologize and no longer stand by this theory.)

Orange Side Theory: Written on 5/5/20. My take on the possibility of Logan’s Dark Side.

Analyses and Metas:

SvS Analysis: My analysis of Selfishness v. Selflessness.

ATHD Analysis: My analysis of Are There Healthy Distractions.

Logan’s Apologies Analysis: How Logan apologizes in LNTAO and how it reflects his character.

Analysis of ‘You’re a Cad’ and Janus: An (over)analysis of the song You’re A Cad and Janus’ relationships with Virgil and Roman.

Headcanons:

“Tells” Headcanon: When one of the Sides is feeling down, they have a system to let the others know.

Pets Headcanon: What the Sides’ pets are and why.

#masterpost

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years

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Please Don’t Judge Me Part 4 || Auston Matthews

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Once again I fail miserably...an update a year is pretty crappy and I’m not even sure if anyone is still interested, but I think I finally figured out where I want this series to go. It probably won’t be more than a part or two longer but we’ll see. Let me know what you think.

Warnings: a curse or two

Word Count: 1,486

~~~~

Soon after it was revealed that you were pregnant with Auston’s baby, the Leafs were eliminated from playoff contention. Auston had insisted that he wanted to be a part of yours and the baby’s life but he hadn’t actually done anything to back up those words. And needless to say, you weren’t holding your breath that he ever would.

In fact, it wouldn’t surprise you if he went to Arizona for the summer and resumed ignoring you. To be frank, Auston doing whatever the hell he wanted was the least of your worries.

Now that Steph knew, she was over at your apartment more frequently and when she wasn’t around she was texting to see if there was anything you needed. There was no doubt in your mind that you were probably going to name Steph and Mitch godparents of your little one and you were grateful for their friendship.

___

As you stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom, you sighed and fiddled with the hem of your shirt, adjusting the way the fabric laid over your ever-expanding bump. You weren’t sure whether the feelings inside of you were more excitement or nerves but either way, you couldn’t get your body to relax.

Looking over at the clock beside your bed, you sighed and grabbed your purse, slipping a pair of sandals onto your feet. You had a doctor’s appointment in 45 minutes and if you were going to make it in time, you needed to get your butt out of the door.

Today was possibly one of the biggest days of your pregnancy. Today you could find out whether you were having a boy or a girl. A mini Auston or a mini-you. You knew that you could find out, but the more you thought about it, the more you weren’t sure whether you wanted to.

On top of all of that, you decided to be the bigger person yesterday and had texted Auston the appointment information. You had no idea whether he was even still in Toronto and he hadn’t responded to the text but your child deserved to know its father, even if you weren’t sure Auston deserved the same. He probably wouldn’t even show, but knowing that he might made you even more anxious than normal.

___

Reaching the doctor’s office, you made your way inside, making note to talk with the doctor about safe ways to alleviate the lower back pain that had become almost constant. After signing in you asked the nurse if you could use the bathroom before your appointment, the baby having shifted on your bladder during the drive over.

As you let yourself into the waiting room a minute or two later, your eyes met brown across the room, and for a moment you lost your breath.

So he’d actually shown up.

Grabbing a magazine, you took a chair two down from his and started flipping through it. From the corner of your eye, you could see him fiddling with his hands, removing his ball cap every so often to card his fingers through his hair. It was clear he was uncomfortable and there was a part of you that was glad he was. He didn’t get to be comfortable when he’d been MIA even after promising he wouldn’t be.

When a nurse eventually called your name, you gingerly pushed yourself to your feet and looked back, waiting to see if Auston was going to follow. He hesitated for a moment before standing and following after as a nurse led you to an exam room. Once inside, he paced back and forth while the nurse took your blood pressure, weight, and quickly measured your growing bump. It wasn’t until she left the room that Auston finally spoke.

“So uh...what’s this appointment for?” He mumbled, scratching at his head once more. You wanted to shoot back a sarcastic ‘to check on the baby you knocked me up with, dumb ass’ but you refrained, instead taking a deep breath and rubbing over your bump.

“It’s an ultrasound to check on the baby’s development.” Certain that Auston still had no idea what that meant you sighed and continued. “We’ll get to see the baby, hear its heartbeat.” The way his eyes went wide told you that was clearly not what he was expecting. Thankfully, before he could say anything in response, there was a knock on the door and your doctor made her way inside the room. She didn’t even flinch seeing Auston standing there and instead just flipped through your chart before looking up at you.

“Alright Y/N...I see we’ve reached the 18-week mark and you’re scheduled to see your baby today.” Her smile was bright and reminded you why you had chosen her as your doctor all along. It was hard to be stressed while surrounded by her easy demeanor. “I see the nurse already took your measurements. You’re right on track there. Growing nicely. Any new symptoms or concerns you’d like to discuss?”

After asking how to best address your back pain, you were given some tips including obtaining a pregnancy pillow, seeing a massage therapist, applying some topical relief, and which pain medication was safe to take if needed. She then addressed that soon you should start feeling the baby move and what else to expect over the next few weeks.

“Should we take a look at that baby now?” She finally inquired after you’d had all of your questions answered. Shifting on the table, you pulled your shirt up over your belly and slid your shorts down just a tad to provide her full access to your changing body. As you relaxed back you shivered as she put cold gel onto your stomach and started moving it around with the transducer. After a moment she pressed a few buttons and then reached up to turn the screen in your direction as the sound of a rapid heartbeat filled your ears.

You’d seen your baby once before, but now it actually was starting to look like a baby, and tears immediately pooled in your eyes. The fact that a tiny human was growing inside of you was still mind-boggling. For another few minutes, your doctor typed away, moving the transducer to take some measurements. Then she turned to you, a smile on her face.

“Everything looks great Y/N. Would you like to know the sex of the baby?” Looking over at the screen, you immediately knew exactly what you wanted. You’d been going back and forth for days but now you felt completely certain.

“No. I want to wait and be surprised.” You answered. The sound of the chair beside you squeaking made you jump. You’d honestly forgotten that Auston was even there. For a split second, you thought about how maybe that wasn’t what he wanted, but then you decided that you didn’t care about what he wanted. Not knowing brought you a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt yet and you knew it was the right decision.

“All right then.” Your doctor agreed. “If you ever change your mind you can just give us a call but I don’t blame you. It’s honestly the greatest surprise ever.” She mused, tapping your knee before handing you a few paper towels to wipe your stomach off with. “I think you’re all set. Pictures will be waiting for you up front. I’ll see you in a month.” She declared, before quickly scooting out of the room to see her next patient. For a moment you just relaxed against the bed, your brain processing everything before you cleaned up and fixed your clothing. By the time you had done that, you realized Auston was offering out a hand to help you off the table and begrudgingly you took it, holding on until you were steady on your feet.

Neither of you spoke until after you’d stepped out of the office. As Auston held the door open you reached into the envelope to pull out one of the two copies of photos the nurse had printed for you.

“Here.” You murmured, holding the sheet out to him. Auston took it warily, slipping it into his wallet. “Thanks for coming.” You breathed, twisting your keys on your fingers. “I’ll text you the date for the next appointment, but that one is just a check-up so nothing interesting will happen.” Auston nodded but it was clear that he still didn’t know what the hell he was doing and it was frustrating. You were trying and it still seemed like he wasn’t.

Shaking your head you turned and walked away, heading back to where you’d parked your car. A twinge went up your back as you slid into the driver’s seat and you sighed.

“I love you little one, but your daddy needs to grow the fuck up already.”

#auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #Toronto Maple Leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #tleafs #002

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

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)

#maribat #sbgs #miraculous ladybug #dc #daminette #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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lemonpeter · 3 years

Text

Sugar and Spice

Chapter 4

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get out! I was just tired (and unmotivated) and today I’ve been traveling and finally doing Christmas with my grandma lol so it’s been quite a day. But! Here it is! I hope everyone enjoys 💕

Ps this chapter is written from Beatrice’s side of things! I was thinking it could be interesting to switch it up occasionally! Let me know how you feel about it! 💕

Warnings: pregnancy (per usual), vomit (not graphic), brief period mention

————

It had been three weeks since the IUI and there hadn’t been much sign of anything.

Beatrice had missed her period but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. It could be a sign but there wasn’t any point in getting too excited yet. She so far hadn’t seen any other type of symptom to prompt her to take the tests she’d purchased.

Her days went as normal. She woke up, took Nikki to daycare, went to work. She texted a little throughout the day with Peter and Tony most days. They liked to check in on her and talking helped them all feel more comfortable.

And she knew they were impatient too for any updates. She couldn’t blame them. But she also couldn’t help when there were no real updates to give.

She made sure to update them on any slight symptoms or signs, anything that could indicate that the pregnancy had taken. But aside from the missing period and slight fatigue there was nothing.

Until she woke up one morning. She did everything as normal; got ready for work, skipped the coffee but managed to get breakfast down….

Then a sudden surge of nausea hit.

It was bad from the start but not enough to cause her to run to the bathroom or anything. She just tried to continue what she was doing and move past it.

But as she moved around to get ready it became apparent that she couldn’t continue.

The toilet seemed to be calling her as her meager breakfast of toast and eggs churned in her stomach.

Before she could really process anything she was draped over the cold porcelain and her stomach was growling again despite still turning at the thought of any more food.

She didn’t want to do anything too early, but she knew her body. This wasn’t just a virus or some mysterious illness.

She had to take those tests.

Once she deemed herself mildly stable again (stomach-wise) she flushed the toilet and stood up, using the counter to steady herself as she brushed her teeth for the second time that morning.

Nikki appeared in the doorway, big eyes blinking up at her mom. She was still outfitted in pajamas and Beatrice realized that she somehow forgot to get the girl up. Great. “Mommy?” She asked softly.

Beatrice rinsed her mouth quickly, spitting before addressing the girl. “Yes, Nik? I’m so sorry I forgot to get you up.”

“Are you sick?” Her daughter asked quietly, seeming concerned.

“Oh, baby. No, I’m- well, I got sick. But I’m not sick, don’t worry. You know how I’m having a baby for those two men I told you about?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, I think maybe the baby is inside me now,” she described gently. She’d been pregnant before since having Nikki but the girl had been too young for them to really talk about it. She was still too young for much, but Beatrice would at least try to explain some of it.

Nikki was silent for a moment before nodding like she understood. “So there’s a baby here?” She poked her mom’s stomach.

“There might be, Nik. I’ve gotta take a test to find out.”

“Will daddy take me to daycare?”

“I think he might, I have to call him, baby.” She hummed softly, tapping a finger to her chin. “How about this, you go turn on a show you want and I’ll call daddy as soon as I’m done. How about that?”

Nikki nodded, going out to the living room without another word.

Beatrice heard the tv turn on a moment later. She listened in to make sure it was something appropriate before closing the bathroom door and grabbing the pregnancy tests from underneath the sink.

She unpackaged them, following every instruction before setting a timer on her phone. Five minutes.

Every second felt too long as she watched the time tick by on the timer. Maybe it would have made more sense to get up and do something productive for the few minutes but she couldn’t tear herself away. So she watched. And waited.

The number ticked down, three, two, one.

She reached out to turn the alarm off and set her phone down before grabbing the two tests. There were butterflies in her stomach at the anticipation of the results but she couldn’t make herself look at both of them at once.

She grabbed the first one and tears welled up in her eyes as she looked in the result window.

Positive.

Of course she grabbed the second one instantly to look at that result as well, but she reached out for her phone as well to call her intended parents. Of course they needed to know that it happened.

The IUI took. She was really pregnant.

She dialed Tony’s number since she knew Peter kept his phone on silent.

He picked up almost instantly which made her laugh a little. But it wouldn’t surprise her if he kept his phone close at all times so he’d see if she called.

“Hey, B. Is there news?” His voice was so hopeful it made her tear up again.

“Yes! Oh, yes, there’s news!” She told him excitedly.

“Peter, come here!” She heard him call out.

Beatrice laughed again, keeping the phone to her ear. “Are both of you here now?”

“Yep,” Peter confirmed. “Tony put you on speaker, so we can both hear you.”

“Perfect, that’s good, that’s so good.”

“So have you started seeing any symptoms yet?” Tony asked, the smile clear in his voice.

“Yes! Well, kind of, I got bad morning sickness when I first woke up and I ended up puking. But then I decided it was time to take the tests!”

She heard Peter gasp softly through the phone and he whispered, “She took the tests, Tones.”

“Well, I took both of them and they were both positive!”

There was dead silence for just a moment before she heard a thump.

“You guys okay?”

“Sorry!” Peter’s voice was muffled but got clearer as he picked the phone back up. “Tony dropped the phone.” He laughed. “But that’s amazing! Oh, I’m so-“

“You’re sure both of them were positive?” Tony’s voice came through. “Completely sure?”

Beatrice grinned, cleaning up the tests before walking out to the living room and sitting next to Nikki on the couch. “I’m one hundred percent sure, Tony. I did it right, waited the right amount of time. They’re positive. I’m pregnant. I’ll go in for bloodwork to confirm it...well, I’ll call to make an appointment today.”

“You’re really pregnant,” Tony whispered. “Wow. Okay, thank you. This was an amazing update, I’m so...I’m so happy.”

“We’re both thrilled,” Peter told her. “Thank you for calling.”

“Of course! I wanted to call you as soon as possible with any updates and obviously this is a big one. I hope you two have a good rest of your day, okay? As always, you can call me with any questions.”

“Thank you, B.” Peter sounded choked up. “You’re an angel. Talk to you later.”

After she hung up, she set the phone down beside her gently.

Her hand slid over her stomach briefly. There was no physical sign yet of the life there but she knew there would be before long.

A smile pulled at her lips as her hand rested there.

“Hey, little one,” she said quietly. “I know you can’t hear me yet. But I’ll keep talking to you anyways.” She chuckled a little at her own silliness before continuing. “Your daddies are already so excited. They’re so happy you’re with us.”

Getting attached so early was a dangerous thing and she knew that. But she couldn’t help herself.

“I’m glad they chose me, little one. I’m very lucky to be helping them. You’re going to make them so happy.”

She sat in the silence, basking in the happiness of it all.

It was the beginning of a wonderful journey that she was lucky to be a part of.

#starker #peter parker #tony stark #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #sugar and spice au #beatrice (sugar and spice)#this one is actually from Beatrice’s POV!#tw pregnancy #tw vomit #tw menstrual cycle #I think that’s all the tags #someone let me know if I need to add anything #it’s late ish I’m burnt out and #getting dinner #I accidentally cut off the tag lol

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onmywaytobe · 3 years

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Dissidia Writeblr March 2021 – Week 4

yes i am ashamed this is so late and so long but thanks to @kiljoytrout i didn't have to come up with like half of this stuff! thanks for taking my boyo and bringing him out of his shell and writing your piece for both of us. as always thank you to @dissidia-writeblr for putting on this event!!

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When Leo opens his eyes, he finds Zeph smiling at him serenely. The amount of oxygen in his lungs is dizzying. He’s barely conscious as Zeph pulls out heavy black chains and binds his hands together. “These won’t hurt at all,” she says, her pasted-on smile some semblance of reassuring. “They’re just a precaution to nullify any magic or advanced tech you might have.” When Leo doesn’t resist, she adds, “Thank you for your cooperation.”

As if he could fight someone like her. With those wings, and her magic, he’d be ended in an instant. And he doesn’t want to fight back. What kind of thanks would that be for what they’ve done for him? The new sensations in his body are overwhelming, but there is no doubt in Leo’s mind that he has been healed.

He’s never felt like this before. Clear lungs, free of the constant phlegm that plagued him his entire life. No shooting stomach pains, no cramps, nothing like the variety of symptoms he was used to telling him that one of his organs was malfunctioning. He is now at the peak of health. It would take a little getting used to.

Leo barely notices as Zeph leads him into a cell and leaves him there. Leo is glad of the chance to rest, but after an hour or so passes he begins to get antsy. There is so much energy coursing through his body and he doesn’t have anywhere to go. He satisfies himself by looking around the room. There’s nothing to see besides the uncomfortable chair he sits on, its twin across from him, and a bucket in the corner. His nose wrinkles at the sight, but he knows he won’t be in there long enough to need the makeshift toilet. He’s a little hurt that the Chikara would heal him only to dump him in a holding cell, but Zeph said it was all just a precaution.

Precaution or no, Leo wants to make sure he can get out if things go sideways. The chair’s frame is rusty enough that he is able to tug some of the spokes free from the underside. The long pieces of metal are a little on the thick side for what he wants, but they’ll have to do. He examines the lock on his chains, allowing himself a small grin. He needn’t have worried. This would only take him a moment to remove.

Content to wait, Leo twiddles his thumbs until the door to the cell slams open, most unexpectedly. A woman with short, blond hair and dark green eyes runs in, and she’s wearing a soldier’s uniform. Leo raises an eyebrow at the sudden intrusion. “My name is Tess, and I’m here to help you escape.” She unlocks his chains. “Do you trust me?”

Leo doesn’t get the chance to tell her no. The door to the room opens again, and two Chikara walk in with another man, also wearing the black chains. Tess curses under her breath, and golden light starts dancing along her skin like fire. This is enough of a surprise to the Chikara that she is able to pull the stranger away from them and try to take his chains off too. Leo still hasn’t moved from his seat, despite his hands being freed. He’s not a fighter.

The Chikara are still coming for them, and at that moment Tidis arrives. He smirks when his eyes land on Tess. “And one of the rebels returns. Today is my lucky day.” Light and darkness start swirling on his skin.

Tess curses again and pushes Leo and the stranger to the door on the other side of the room. “Leo, Lindy, find Wayne. He’s rescued Warren. He should be going to the hangar where they keep their ships,” she hisses under her breath at them. She pushes them through the door and locks it from the inside.

Leo immediately turns to his companion. “Were you also summoned?” he asks. He would need to know as much as he could about his new ally if they ran into any more trouble. “How do you know-”

The guy gives Leo a cold look, and Leo quiets, falling into step alongside his new friend as he stalks off. Leo is quite shaken by his removal from the cell, and still adjusting to his new body. It made him bold enough to join this stranger on whatever mission he was so intent on. Besides, anything that took him further away from the magic battle was all right with Leo.

The stranger is observing the space around them, taking it in with what Leo could only describe as awe. Perhaps he was familiar with these sorts of things. It would be helpful for someone who knew what was going on to be on Leo’s side. He grimaces, rattling the heavy chains still locked around his arms. Leo notices, patting his pockets for the makeshift lockpick he’d fashioned earlier, and finds it missing. Must have dropped it in all the commotion. He spots an antenna on the wall that would be much better suited and twists it off, making a move to unlock his companion’s chains.

Leo hadn’t said anything, since the other guy (Lindy? Was that his name that Tess had shouted at them?) didn’t want to talk, and now found himself being smacked into the side of the corridor. “What the hell, man!” Leo sputters. “I was just trying to pick the lock on your chains.” He definitely should have explained first. That’s what he gets for trying to be considerate.

“Oh.” Lindy doesn’t apologize, but helps up Leo from the floor and wordlessly stretches out his arm for Leo to have easier access to the lock. After a few twists, the chains slip off easily. Leo keeps the antenna, and grabs one of the locks as well. Never know when these things could come in handy.

They continue walking, and the echo of their footsteps in the silence makes Leo lonely. He misses the comforting presence of Warren. They had been a much more agreeable companion than this Lindy fellow. At least Lindy seemed to know where he was going, his pace measured and sure, never hesitating at crossroads. Leo wondered how he knew, and how Lindy had ended up in the same chains as himself if he was so familiar with the way the Chikara lived.

“Who is Warren?” Lindy asks suddenly.

For a second, Leo wonders whether Lindy can read his mind. If he wasn’t already convinced that this was a dream, he was considering the possibility again. But after his moment of shock, he’s more surprised that Lindy’s even said anything at all, considering they’ve spent the last few hours in complete silence.

“Why do you want to know?” Leo replies pointedly. Why not ask about this Wayne, for instance?

Lindy doesn’t answer, only pausing to shoot Leo a sideways glance. It looks a little too close to sympathy for Leo’s liking. Leo narrows his eyes at Lindy, who of course doesn’t notice.

After another few moments of uncomfortable silence, Leo sighs. He might as well talk to this Lindy person, if only to get him to stop looking at him with such pity. “They were one of the first normal people I met when I got summoned to this place. Got to know them pretty well. We were separated a little while ago though.”

“Oh.”

Leo rolls his eyes. That seemed to be half of this guy’s vocabulary. He was so glad he’d made such an effort. Clearly Lindy thought the conversation would be of some benefit to Leo, but Leo would have been just as content with silence.

They walk on in silence for a few more minutes when Lindy comes to a stop. Leo stares at him curiously as he starts to tap his finger against a sheet of metal on the wall.

“This shouldn’t be here,” Lindy says thoughtfully.

Leo is in no mood to be civil. Apparently this sheet of metal meant more than a human conversation. “Well, it obviously is there, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

Lindy just stares at Leo for one beat with those watery blue eyes, and it’s as good as any death glare; the hair on Leo’s neck prickles. “What I mean is that there should be an entrance here to the hangars, but it seems that they’ve blocked this one up.”

“We just have to take it down then,” Leo says nonchalantly. “It’s just flimsy sheet metal.” He kicks at the metal covering and immediately regrets it. Pain radiates through his bones like an alarm blaring, and he falls to the floor. Lindy looks down at him, expressionless, while Leo groans. “Oww.”

“It’s not sheet metal,” Lindy explains. “It’s probably either titanium reinforced Kevlar, or some otherworld material. You can tell from the lack of sheen that it’s durable.”

Through gritted teeth, Leo manages, “Why didn’t you tell me that before I kicked it?”

Still staring down at him, Lindy replies, “You didn’t ask.”

Eyes watering, Leo takes the hand that Lindy offers with more than a hint of irritation. It was becoming apparent that Lindy did not care one whit for Leo.

Lindy, paying him no mind, is surveying their surroundings. “Give me a leg up,” Lindy says, nodding to a panel he’s noticed above their heads. Leo follows his gaze and understands immediately. He boosts Lindy up on his shoulders. Besides the painful protesting of his ankle, it’s not too bad. Maybe the healing process had made him stronger.

After a bit of tinkering, Leo hears a creak from up above, the weight on his shoulders vanishes, and Lindy’s hand extends from up above to help him up.

“Are you sure that’s stable?” Leo calls, but he’s already taking Lindy’s hand, so he’ll find out one way or another. Lindy doesn’t respond anyway.

Leo cranes his neck around the cramped ventilation shaft, in which both of them are crouching down as low as they can. By the soft indentation in the metal, grooves caused by the unmistakable impressions of knees and hands and occasional banged heads, he can tell that this is certainly more than your run-of-the-mill ventilation shaft.

“This way,” Lindy says, motioning to the left of their loose panel. Leo falls back behind him and the two crawl down the seemingly endless shaft. It only occasionally quivers in a way that makes Leo nervous that it can’t support their weight.

Leo finds himself yawning as they go along. He never thought that getting summoned to another universe would be so tiring, or so dull. Almost in response to his thoughts, he hears a huge bang from the other side of the tunnel.

They both freeze.

“What does that mean?” whispers Leo.

After a beat of silence, the banging starts to get closer. Lindy turns pale.

“It means that someone’s in here with us.”

#dissidia writeblr #my writing #leo #this has been such fun #i truly am sorry that i'm soooo slow

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