My dash did a thing

I will keep this photo posted for 1 week.

Every time someone Reblogs this photo I will donate 10 cent to charity: water

After the money is donated I will post proof of donation.

Show you care & Reblog.

always

If you don’t reblog this at least once you’re a joke.

Please reblog

I’ve never reblogged something faster

Everyone deserves the right to clean water.

Everyone

HECCCC YEAH BABEY

doing it again (psst, @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses @thebootydiaries @thehugwizard @glumshoe @writing-prompt-s @one-time-i-dreamt) hecc your blog theme, reblog this and save lives

REBLOG!!!!!!¡!!!

Reblog plzzzz😊

(source)

Whoa, I didn’t realize that it was so deliberate, I honestly thought it was unconscious

Scary, scary.

Gonna add on to this: From the other side of the bar, I see this crap all the time. Seriously. I work at a high-density bar, and let me tell you, I have anywhere from 10-20 guys every night come up and tell me to, “serve her a stronger drink, I’m trying to get lucky tonight, know what I mean?” usually accompanied with a wink and a gesture at a girl who, in my experience, is going to go from mildly buzzed to definitively hammered if I keep serving her. Now, I like to think I’m a responsible bartender, so I usually tell guys like that to piss off, and, if I can, try to tell the girl’s more sober friends that they need to keep an eye on her. But everyone- just so you know, most of the time, when someone you don’t know is buying you a drink, they’re NOT doing it out of a sense of cordiality, they’re buying you a drink for the sole purpose of making you let your guard down. So:

Tips for getting drinks-

1. ALWAYS GO TO THE BAR TO GET YOUR OWN DRINK, DO NOT LET STRANGERS CARRY YOUR DRINKS. This is an opportune time for dropping something into your cocktail, and you’re none the wiser.

2.IF YOU ORDER SOMETHING NON-ALCOHOLIC, I promise you, the bartender doesn’t give two shits that you’re not drinking cocktails with your friends, and often, totally understands that you don’t want to let your guard down around strangers. Usually, you can just tell the bartender that you’d like something light, and that’s a big clue to us that you’re uncomfortable with whomever you’re standing next to. Again, we see this all the time.

3. If you’re in a position to where you feel uncomfortable not ordering alcohol:

Here’s a list of light liquors, and mixers that won’t get you drunk, and will still look like an actual cocktail:

X-rated + sprite = easy to drink, sweet, and 12% alcoholic content. Not strong at all, usually runs $6-$8, depending on your state.

Amaretto + sour= sweet, not strong, 26%.

Peach Schnapps+ ginger ale= tastes like mellow butterscotch, 24%.

Melon liquor (Midori, in most bars) + soda water = not overly sweet, 21%

Coffee liquor (Kahlua) +soda = not super sweet, 20%.

Hope this helps someone out!

Backing this up from years of bar tending.

Adding to this:

When I was a fresh bartender, I had a couple sitting in the corner, already drinking when I started my shift. They seemed like they knew each other really well considering how much they had their hands on one another. But I still came by and asked if they were okay. The man just waved me off while the woman said, “I need some water.”

The man laughed it off and told me, “She doesn’t need any water. She’s fine.”

She was not fine. Clearly. I decided I was going to cut the two off anyway and bring them some water. As I was filling up the glasses, I heard the woman say, “Stop. I said no. I don’t feel good.”

Her tone and attitude changed instantly. She kept pushing his hand away when he reached for her face, turned her head away when he tried to kiss her. Loudly told him, “Stop. I’m done for tonight.”

So I made sure to refill her water the moment she finished it, and I stayed within earshot of them the whole night. And every time I did, the man got mad at me, told me to leave them alone. Their friends were there, surrounding them and told me that those two always fought when they were drunk and apologized, so I relaxed a little. But the last time I refilled her drink, I heard a loud crash.

She fell out of her stool and hit her head on the floor. And he calmly drank his drink. Their friends didn’t even blink. I jumped over the bar to tend to her and he just said, “Don’t worry, I’ll take her home. She always ends up like this. She drinks too much.”

But it didn’t sound right.

Then the woman began convulsing.

I yelled for the other bartender to call 911 and when I did, the guy suddenly disappeared. I tried asking thr friends questions about him and they just blew it off as the woman being a black our drunk. And one of them said, “We’ll get her home. Don’t worry.”

But when thr EMTs showed up with the police, they all disappeared too.

A few days later the woman came with an attorney. She asked me and the other bartender who worked before me some questions. Turns out, she didn’t know any of those people. They weren’t her friends or her boyfriend. They had met that night, when the guy asked her if he could buy her a drink. At the hospital, they found traces of Rohypnol in her system.

The guy had Roofied her. And his friends were in on it.

The security camera footage showed he had put something in her drink when she left for the bathroom before my shift.

So seriously, it happens. You have to be careful with your drinks! Always watch it, don’t let anyone handle it, and take it with you wherever you go–even the bathroom. Or if you’re a regular at that bar, ask the bartender to put it behind the bar. We’ll do it.

Rb for that last add, don’t ever worry about being polite! Protect urself!

REBLOG AND SPREAD THE WORD!

Never EVER trust men

Marinette's Haunted doll

Not Halloween yet but i just thought of a killer ML SALT Fic au idea.

One of Marinette’s distance relatives dies and in their will they leave Marinette a antique porcelain victorian doll. Its covered in cobwebs, the dress is tattered and covered in dust. A shoe is missing, and the thing’s hat looks like someone spilt… red “paint” on it?

it’s beyond creepy and looks straight out of a horror movie. The letter from her relative swore it was haunted and cursed. The line “If I’m dead, Serafina killed me…” had caused Marinette to scoff.

Its clear to Marinette that no one has touched the poor thing in years. It just needs a little love and care. Marinette didn’t know why but she got the feeling the doll was lonely.

Marinette fixes the doll, makes it a new outfit, sits it next to her computer, and makes Serafina into a minature model. She treats her with kindness and love.

Afterall a relative cared enough to give Marinette the doll and invent some fantastical story just so the Marinette would like it. That meant a lot to her.

By the time Marinette was done, Serafina went from a ripoff of Annabelle to…

Marinette was quite proud of her work. And she no longer felt like Serafina was lonely anymore.

Unbeknownst to Marinette, the doll is classically horror movie haunted. Its been bounced around for decades from one victim to the next. Each one meeting unsettling ends.

This time it was different though.

Marinette was… different than the others, Serafina realized. She wasn’t afraid of her. She didn’t scorn Serafina’s appearance or hide her away where no one could see her. She wasn’t greedy and didn’t immediately try to sell her for the best price. Marinettw was nothing like Serafina’s previous owners/victims.

No, the girl was kind. She made Serafina feel loved.

Marinette was her friend. Serafina was happy in her new home. No one needed to die here.

And it stayed that way. Everyone happy. Even when Marinette got too old for dolls. Serafina still sat in the place of honor in her room. She was Marinette’s first and favorite mannequin. (And how Marinette got into selling doll clothes on line for extra cash).

Serafina was watched as Marinette went from child to teen. From shy girl to a fearless superhero. She even made friends with the little god that came to live with Marinette. a

And Tikki despite sensing the Darkness in Serafina, wisely remained silent.

All was at peace.

Until the day Marinette came storming into her room one day complaining about a girl named Lila.

Things kept getting worse from there. The light that always surrounded Marinette dimmed a bit. More than a few times did Marinette cry to Tikki about it but then swore she could handle it.

Serafina knew it all.

How Lila lied.

How Adrien told her to keep quiet.

How nearly all of Marinette’s friends turned against her, bullied her, ostracized her.

How bustier and Damocles did nothing about it. Even made Marinette out to be the problem.

On top of that, Marinette had to deal with school, her budding designer career, and being a Superhero.

One day Marinette comes home her newly designed dress ruined, her make-up smeared, and her hair partially covered in paint or ink and she looks so done with the world. For the first time in years Marinette cries herself to sleep.

…Serafina has had enough. If Marinette won’t doing anything about then she will.

She’ll make Marinette’s tormentors pay.

And when she’s done, Serafina will go for Hawkmoth next

…

..

Anyone can do the Au, just tag me.

@virgil-is-a-cutie @vixen-uchiha @miraculous-of-salt

Marinette’s dead relative: I was… murdered…. by the doll….

Marinette, holding the doll up: who, her? Pfft she just needs a little love. No need to be rude!

Tikki: 👀👀

The doll: 😍😍

Tikki seeing she has a new holder and she seems really nice:

Tikki seeing what kind of doll her new holder has in possession:

Rich people showers

reblogging for that gif

i’m sorry i couldn’t help myself 

Not gonna not reblog this….

The drawings are a necessary addition. (Gargle shower and fireplace showers still best)

*muffled screams*

I had to

I legit want to try ALL OF THESE.

bending laws of physics is easy for us 

Damian Dupain-Cheng (MASTERLIST)

It’s called rescuing, not kidnapping: This is the one shot that inspired everything. (It can be read by itself)

Ao3, Part 0

Damian, the baby assassin, Dupain-Cheng: This is the first arc that explains how Marinette adopted Damian and explores their mother and son relationship.

Ao3, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[More coming soon]

~♡~♡~♡~ TAG LIST ~♡~♡~♡~

Afficher davantage

Gotham Seamstress Marinette - Finding Marinette

Initial Idea | Uncle Ozzy | Gotham City Sirens | Wayne Gala | After the Party - Bruce | After the Party - Marinette | Clash of Hero’s | Finding Marinette (you are here) | (there WILL be more installments but not tonight, sorry guys)

Okay, now. we’ve got Marinette passed out on the docks in Gotham, the Justice League trying to find her, the Batfam trying to track her down using security camera’s, and the Kwami panicking. 

Now, Marinette didn’t use ALL of the Miraculous and their powers, so several of the Kwami can and DO go out and get enough food for everybody and medical supplies for Marinette and they just. Wait. Bc none of them can really heal humans, and this can’t be fixed by a Miraculous Cure. Their Girl (-cough- they totally meant Guardian, yeah, yeaaahhh -cough-) is hurt and the hero’s can’t be trusted and the villains turned on Marinette. And maybe, MAYBE, they could trust the Batfam, but they can’t be sure. Some of the kwami, lets say, Trixx, Stompp, and Longg, all go out to investigate just what’s going on while Marinette is sleeping. And they DO like what they see. But they aren’t going to drag the Justice League anywhere NEAR their Mari rn so. Batfam it is. 

Longg is the one who manages to nap Damian and literally just. attaches himself to the bird themed hero. And the Batfam can’t hear Longg over the coms but they CAN hear Damian demanding to know what the FUCK Longg is and what the hell he thinks he’s doing latching onto him like this! Off! OFF!!

And Longg bites him bc he does not have time for these shenanigans! (… tikki can never know.) Demands that Damian come to Marinette and help her! Its partially his fault she’s hurt! (Not that any of them KNOW that Damian is Robin and therefore the person who mentioned Mari taking the ring but. yknow.)

Damian waits for Bruce, Dick, and Tim to show up, as backup, and Longg leads them to this random dock building where Marinette is STILL sleeping off using so many Miraculous AND getting hurt. They see her crawling with Kwami, who all look at them with bright eyes in the dark. They will never admit they were PRETTY fucking terrified. Talk about putting the fear of the Gods into someone. 

Tim looks her over for injuries of which there are… more than they estimated. No Ladybug means no Miraculous Cure means all those hits they managed to get through didn’t get healed. They weren’t nearly as bad as they could have been but she looks… bad. She stirs a little when Bruce picks her up, and Jason brings around the Batmobile to their location. Dick carries the Miraculous Box and Plagg sits on his shoulder glaring at him, less he try something. He’ll cataclysm the fuck out of this kid, TRY HIM. The rest of the Kwami are still laying on Mari. 

Long story short, the Batgirls end up patching up Mari and getting her cleaned up in the Bat Cave, and they take turns watching over here. The Kwami, Tikki especially, insist on staying with Mari and at least watching over her, even if she can’t be wearing all the Miraculous while she heals. 

She sleeps for like. A day and a half, almost two. 

Batman is still ripping the Justice League a New One, somewhere that ISN’T the Bat Cave. There are long and extensive explanations about how they should have WAITED for him to come back with his findings, how listening to a MINOR, especially a minor who had questionable ties to the girl they were following, was unacceptable. They have protocol for a REASON. They have procedure for a REASON. They’re all going through sensitivity training. Until then get the FUCK out of his city. Fuck, get the hell out of his STATE. OUT. NO I DON’T CARE IF METROPOLIS IS WITHIN STATE BOARDERS, KENT, YOU ARE ON THIN FUCKING ICE. OUT. BITCH BYE. 

Also, Adrian gets out of Arkham! Only to get dragged back to Paris to be locked up THERE, bc yeah.This is a political fucking NIGHTMARE. Not even Chloe could save Adrian from this bs. They all watched him tackle Marinette Dupain-Cheng (local beloved teen, missing for over a year, and no WONDER) to the ground and try to wrestle a Miraculous from her. Also the info on Gabriel being Hawkmoth. There’s a lot of legalities that he’s going to have to deal with. (Also I never really mentioned Emilie? But she, like. Has been confined to bed while she heals and neither of the boys told her what happened, but now its all over the news and. Well. Natalie and the Gorilla may or may not come clean to her. Emilie is NOT pleased. FFS boys.) 

But yeah. Marinette wakes up in a panic, covered in Kwami, to a snoring Nightwing sitting in a chair beside her. In a cave. She may or may not flip out, tackle Nightwing, aggravate her wounds, and kinda end up on the ground in a ball. Dick is, uh, not sure how to deal with this. Though he’s being threatened by a tiny god of chaos to reassure her so um. Kay. Normal day in Gotham I suppose. Lets everyone else know to suit up and come meet their guest. 

Duusu absolutely tackles Alfred, Nooro too. They can get an explanation LATER tho, bc this shit is ridiculous enough already. Marinette gets gently put back into bed, her wounds checked over, and some water. And Bruce starts explaining what happened, and apologies. 

Because he wasn’t fast enough, the Justice League came after her, revealed the Secrets of the Miraculous to not only the Rogue Gallery but to Gotham. The footage was, after about 24 hours, unusable and corrupted across just about everything, but people can still report on it. People have absolutely heard what happened. She was injured, her identity exposed, bc he could not get his answers fast as he needed. 

And Marinette just starts crying. Because, really, it wasn’t his fault! He tried to help her as best he can and that’s something! Its more help than she’s had in years, if she’s honest. And it means a lot that he was willing to own up to it, even if she didn’t blame him. 

But, she also can’t really forgive the Agreste’s or the Justice League. She doesn’t… really have it in her to deal with it. Them. ANY of this, honestly. And none of the Batfam blames her one bit for it. 

The Kwami are going to be bitter about it forever though. FOR. EVER. The Batfam is on thin ice and the only reason they aren’t getting beat to all hell by four inch gods is that they owned up and protected Mari. And Alfred. Alfred was always a good bird. Good to know he raised DECENT birds, despite half of them being bats. its fine. acceptable. 

Mari actually just. falls asleep again and Alfred pulls the batfam away for an explanation on the Miraculous and who Marinette IS and how important she is. 

Its decided that, if Mari wants, she’s getting adopted. 

Tag List! (Just a reminder, if you would like to be added, send me an ask!)

@destinationdesignation @xxmadamjinxx @emjrabbitwolf @meg-chi @officiallyathiana @graduatedmelon @theatreandcomicfreak @beaversuenightly @7701deathlyhalfbloodprincess @mystery-5-5 @kel121288 @rhub4rb @ @kuroko26 @ur-beautiful-when-u-smile @foxyrelina @driftingmoonlitpetals @bee-wrecker @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @octoberscorn @luciferge @misplaceddick @akalei @be-happy-every-day-please @captainmac6 @iglowinggemma28 @multifandomscribette @vixen-uchiha @eliza-bich @chez-pezeater @livpc @melicmusicmagic @lexysama @goggles-mcgee @j-a-n-e–d-o-e @rydellakurancarson @eve-is-the-dawn @ace-aro-agender @rogueptoridactyl @kitkatcatfangirl @sassy-spocko @iggy-of-fans @iggy-of-fans @schrodingers25​ @two-faced-biatch​ @zazzlejazzle @elspethshadow @bamagirl513 @lunaaugurium @caffeinetheory @sassydepression @fandomkitty8 @battysorciere @fangs4damemories @legendaryneckjudgestudent @this-is-vander @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @cassiejaydee @kazjaurelia @northernbluetongue @graduatedmelon @mmemiraculous

People who should be tagged but aren’t??? I’m so sorry

@kurogaya91 @housekittysden  @magicalfirebird @seraphichana

Google like a boss!

This is relevant to librarian-ing.

This would make such an excellent hand out for students.

Wheee I use these! They make Google a much more effective search tool.

Thank you! Ppl don’t know these things when I tell them they don’t know how to use a computer

biblically accurate snow angel

It’s nice to see Bill Watterson is still active.

@queenofbaws @kpdleo12

This is the kinda passive aggressive compliance inherent in all humans

Pinning After The Same Girl (Together)

Maribat Master List

@mialuvscats gave me a prompt request and I… Sorry this took so long. This is honestly the first time I’ve written this pairing–not that I don’t like it, I actually think it’s pretty cute. Anyways, I hope I did your prompt request justice!

Enjoy~!

Marinette would be lying if she said she wasn’t tired. Well, who wouldn’t be when they just spent their whole afternoon running around town looking for this specific color of fabric with this specific texture?

She had just moved to Gotham City with her parents (weird that they decided to move to the most crime-filled city in America, I know) because they claimed that their Bakery would do good for international publicity. Especially since Hawkmoth and Mayura have finally been defeated and they weren’t trapped in a toxic environment anymore. So, what better way to celebrate their moving than to make clothes inspired by the beloved heroes of Gotham City?

At first, Marinette wasn’t sure what to think of it. How would her friends react? Would they be mad at her for suddenly springing in on them that she’s moving? Would they beg her not to? Or better yet, would they even miss her if she were to go?

In the end, Marinette had gone to Gotham with her parents. Opting to just finish her last two years of lycée there and maybe get a change of scenery (Gotham is kind of pretty, if she’s being honest). Plus, it was a good chance to be away from toxic people, especially Lila.

So now, here she is, walking down the streets of Gotham while she juggles six fabric rolls in her arms that are twice her size and a couple of paper bags on the other.  

Not really paying attention to where she’s going, the ravenette collides with a big wall. A big lumpy, fleshy wall.  

“Oof!” she falls down to the pavement and promptly loses hold of all of the things on her arms, the fabric rolls and the paper bags flies through the air and quickly lands and gets strewn across the street. How were the paper bags even able to get out of her hold? They were looped on her arm for crying out loud!

She quickly gathers all her belongings as her face goes red with embarrassment. “Je suis—err, I-I am very sorry!” Marinette grimaces at her way of wording. She’s already perfected her English but there are times where she forgets that she’s not in France anymore, so she tends to switch between French and English from time to time. It doesn’t help that she and her parents still speak French when they’re at home.  

“It’s okay, are you alright?” the person she bumped into—well, persons, since apparently, she collided with two people—asks as they offer a hand to help her up.  

She gladly takes the hand and says her thanks, “Y-Yes, but still, I am very sorry. I wasn’t looking at where I was going and—and I didn’t mean to bump into you!” she bows her head in shame as strings of apologies fall from her mouth.  

“It is not your fault. You were handicapped because of these things blocking your vision,” another voice—the other person maybe? —assures her.  

Finally willing herself to look up, Marinette comes face to face with two males. The one on her right, who was still holding her hand, has a curly black hair that looks just as soft as it must be to touch. His big blue eyes, that are framed by glasses (which, she might add, looks so adorable in him that she wonders if he’d look twice as good without them), peer at her as a soft smile graces his face. Marinette was not ashamed to say that his boyish grin made her insides feel like jellies.  

Chancing a glance to the left, the other boy’s features screamed to be the opposite. His face grim and emotionless as their eyes meet, that she feels an uncanny feeling of yearning in her chest. His gelled up ebony black hair looks so prim and proper that Marinette briefly wonders what it’d look like if she were to rake her fingers through it and mess it up. His olive skin a great contrast to his bright yet fierce jade eyes that for a second there, she felt like there was a pull between them; daring her to look the other way but she can’t seem to do so.  

Trust her luck to bump into handsome strangers while out shopping for fabrics and embarrassing herself. Were Gothamians? Gothamites? All this good looking?

“S-Sorry.” she bows her head in shame and to hide her flushed face. Bad idea. Staring right into strangers’ dreamy eyes and gawking at said strangers, no matter how handsome they are, is a bad idea.

“Hey, it’s no biggie! It was just an accident!” the cute boy with glasses smiles at her and pats her head. That’s it, she’s dead. Marinette is officially dead. That’s what they’ll put on her tombstone: ‘Death by a cute boy in Gotham patting her head’. Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh. Why must cute boys always be around her? Cute boys are her weakness.

Marinette hugs the few fabric rolls and paper bags to her chest, “Still, I’m really sorry.” her face must be so red right now, they’ll have to replace the current one and replace it with her face.

Wait… few fabric rolls? Where are the other ones?

The ravenette looks at the ground and sees nothing.  

Didn’t she drop them? Where…?

Her eyes keep searching until finally, they land on the two boys’ arms. That are holding fabric rolls and paper bags. The very same fabric rolls and paper bags she used to carry just a minute ago… oh Kwami, what are they doing in their hands??!!!???!!?  

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have made you hold that for me!” she panics as she tries to take the bolts of fabric and paper bags from their hands, but to no avail. Before she even had the chance to touch them, both boys had raised their arms up to keep her from reaching over to them. Curse cute boys and their tallness!

“It’s alright, we’ll hold onto them for you. Where are you heading?” the cute glasses boy smiles at her.

“N-No, really, I’m fine.” she didn’t want to be a bother to them! What if they had something to do today? Then, she’d just be an inconvenience!

“Nah, we insist.” the glasses boy waves his hand and guides her forward. “So, where to?”

“J-Just the newly opened Bakery down the block,” she stutters as her face turn impossible warm as each second passes.

“No way, you mean the newly opened ‘Doux Miracles’?” the cute glasses boy looks at her with… was that glee? Awe? In his eyes?

“Y-Yes?” she stutters as both of the cute boys peer at her with interest and wonder.  

“That’s awesome! Your pastries are really good!” the blue-eyed boy praises her as his eyes sparkle with immense delight.  

“T-Thank you,” she meekly replies. Why must boys always do this? Are they really trying to kill her with their cuteness???!!

“By the way, I’m Jon!” the glasses boy introduces himself and points at the other boy next to him. “And this is Damian! Sorry, he’s not really that sociable.” he scratches the back of his neck and smiles at her.  

“Nice to team—feet—uh, meet you! I-I’m Marinette.” she awkwardly laughs and grimaces at her mistakes. Why is she stammering??!!

As the two boys—Damian and Jon, she reminds herself—accompany her to her house with idle talk, Marinette almost wishes that their little journey would never end.  

“Well, here we are!” Jon smiles brightly at her that the ravenette was sure he was trying to blind her on purpose. “Home sweet home.” he hands her over the fabric rolls and paper bags just as Damian does so too.  

“I suggest you be careful next time; otherwise, you might bump into unwanted trouble,” Damian says as he turns away with Jon, but not before glancing back at her one more time. “And it was nice meeting you,” he hesitantly says and quickly looks away. And if she didn’t know better, she’d say that his ears were a bit red.

“You too!” Marinette preens, feeling somewhat accomplished that she somehow made the closed-off boy say such a phrase.  

“See you around, Marinette!” the brunet waves at her as they both turn down the street, leaving her to wave back goodbye while hoping that maybe they’d get a chance to see each other more often.  

————————

It was another ordinary night (if you call a landslide of robberies and mugging in the slums of Gotham ordinary) and Damian was out and about in the sky, jumping from rooftop to rooftop as he patrols the streets of Gotham with his lover, who came all the way from Metropolis just to spend time with him.  

He and Jon had been dating for about three months now and, although their relationship has been very delightful and more than adequate, they both had a thought of wanting another party to join in on their relationship.  

With that thought, an image of the girl that they met a while ago—Marinette, if he was correct—flashed into his mind.  

“What’re you thinking about, Dames?” Superboy asks as he nonchalantly crouch down beside him and peers at the street below them.  

Robin slightly frowns at the nickname, “No one,” he says and continues to watch for any disturbances at the alley below.  

“Ah,” the Kryptonian hums. “But I never implied a person, did I?” the impish grin that split the boy’s face made Robin regret all of his life choices.  

“So, who’s she?” Superboy rests his head on the palms of his hands and looks at him expectantly. “Who’s the girl?”

The corners of the ravenet’s mouths twitches into a frown as he glares at the boy beside him. “Ah,” he mimics the same tone his lover used. “But I never implied a girl, did I?” he barks back the same phrase Superboy had used on him.  

“Pfft—shut up, Damian—”

“No names on the field, Superboy.”

“—I know that look,” he continues as though Robin hadn’t just interrupted him a second ago. “Plus, I might just be thinking about her too,” he drones out and shrugs his shoulders.  

At that confession, Robin looks at the brunet and raises an eyebrow. “What—”

A clattering of metal cuts off anything he was about to say and catches both of their attention.

Looking around, he notices a person scaling the side of a building using an emergency ladder. And they are doing so in an alarmingly fast rate, if he may add.  

Hesitating to confront them face to face because they definitely look suspicious, Robin and Superboy hides over behind a taller building and peers at the person—girl! It was actually a girl! A very attractive girl with beautiful black hair that shined even through the darkness of the night and, with the correct lighting, made her look like she has a halo.

“That’s Marinette!” Superboy whispers and points at the living angel sitting at the edge of the building. “You know, the one we just met this—”

“I know who she is, Superboy, we were just talking about her,” he cuts him off and rolls his eyes, in which the brunet pouts at.

“Whatever,” he harrumphs and looks back at the ravenette. “Listen, it sounds like she’s singing!”

True to his word, Robin hears a soft voice akin to tinkling bells; the melody sounding unfamiliar yet somewhat still refined. Taking his breath away as he continues to listen to her sing, her voice resounds through the cold Gotham air that it makes him feel warm. Robin was sure that if the whole city is listening right now, they’d also be mesmerized by her voice.

“It’s so beautiful,” the brunet beside him whispers breathlessly as they both stare at the singing angel.

“Yeah,” he agrees and sighs longingly at the girl. “It is.”

Just as quickly as they heard her voice, her singing reached the end. Damian was honestly tempted to clap his hands and cheer. Good thing he stopped himself, remembering that they were only spying on the girl and she doesn’t actually know that they’re there.

He sees Marinette let out a sigh and stands up, brushing her clothes as she does so, and quickly climbs back down the building.

“Well, that’s weird. Come on, let’s follow her,” Superboy suggests and flies over to another building with Robin in tow.

Tailing the ravenette (because she kind of seems suspicious not because they’re worried that she might run into trouble), they watch as she walks down the street with confidence yet wariness of her surroundings at the same time and pulls out a… what that her phone? from her purse. Was she even actually wearing a purse before? How come he didn’t see it the first time?

“Salut, les gars!” she says to her phone. French? She speaks French? Well, she did stutter the first time they met. Good thing he’s fluent in the language, though; otherwise, she might be planning a mass murder and they won’t know. All because they don’t understand French.

“Hey, Bug! How’s Gotham so far? We really miss you!” the other person—or was it persons? The voice that responded sounded way too many to belong to one person only—on the other line responds in the same language.

“It’s all good! Although, I might have made a mistake.” Marinette’s voice sounded tiny that if Robin didn’t find her suspicious, he might’ve thought it was cute. It honestly was.

“Damn right, coming to Gotham was a mistake!” a loud voice—that sounded suspiciously like a man’s—says. “Come back to Paris, Nette! Don’t leave us with these idiots!”

“Shut up, Meathead! Let her finish!” another voice—this time, a girl’s—cuts the other off.

“I think I’m being followed,” Marinette whispers to her phone, making both the vigilantes flinch.  

“Oh my god, she knows! She knows we’re following her! How did she even know?!” Superboy panics beside him.

“I don’t know! I thought for sure we were hidden from her sight!” he hisses to the Kryptonian as he also feels himself panic. Jon is really contagious!

“Bug, all you have to do is run. Run like you’re in a freaking marathon!” he hears a shrilly voice order Marinette from the phone like her life is on the line. And if would have been if it were some other suspicious person tailing her, not them.

“But what if they follow me to the house?” Marinette whispers with worry.

“Negative,” another guy’s voice cuts her off. “There is a seventy-eight percent chance that Marinette can outrun whoever that guy is.”

“But there’s still a twenty-two percent that I won’t be able to!” the ravenette counters.

“Guys, calm down,” a sunshiny voice of… a guy maybe? cuts their panicking off. “We all know that Marinette can take down a guy six times her size, she can perfectly handle herself. Just make sure to be careful, okay, LB?” the guy’s voice also sounded a bit worried. Why do they even keep calling her “bug”? And what’s “LB”?

Just as both Robin and Superboy were about to jump down and reassure her that they’re not shady people, a guy that smelled like rotten eggs and liquor stumbles over to the girl and grabs her arm. Spewing out slurs and inaudible words as he stumbles around Marinette.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! Let’s call the police! Where are the police? Why are there no police when you need one?!” Superboy flies around in alarm and worry.

Rolling his eyes, Robin smacks him upside the head, “And that’s why we’re here! This is our job! Now, come on!” he jumps over and swings down the building. Landing on the ground with a soft thud and abit far away from the scene so as to not alert them and give the mugger an element of surprise.

Before they even had a chance to say or do anything, a loud thud and grunt could be heard and the guy who was trying to mug Marinette had fallen to the ground. His face unconscious but with visible sign of pain while the ravenette grabs a neon pink zip tie out of thin air and incapacitates him.

“So, you agree that we’ll do everything in our power to add her in on our relationship, right?” Superboy asks beside him as they both openly stare at the scene in front of them.

“Absolutely.”

————————

BONUS:

CHAT NAME: We’re In Charge (Of Tiny Gods)

BunnyBunnyHopHopGetHimOnTheClock: Nette? You alright?

IAmTheBrawnsAndTheBrawns: DC what happened?

PrettyIsMyGodGivenName: Bug??? Holy Kwamis you better not die on me!

TheGodOfDestructionLivesOnMyPocket: Buginette! Don’t dieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

HoneyIAmTheBOSS: Lol I’m fine

HoneyIAmTheBOSS: Just finished subduing the guy

HoneyIAmTheBOSS: Oh gosh he stinks

BunnyBunnyHopHopGetHimOnTheClock: Didya beat his ass?

IAmTheWizardOfComps: I am 100% sure she did

HoneyIAmTheBOSS: Hell ya I did

HoneyIAmTheBOSS: The heroes who were spying on me didn’t even have to save me

TheGodOfDestructionLivesOnMyPocket: Excuse me

HoneyIAmTheBOSS: Thou shall not pass

TheGodOfDestructionLivesOnMyPocket: EXCUSE ME

TheGodOfDestructionLivesOnMyPocket: They were WHAT?!

HoneyIAmTheBOSS: They were cute so…

HoneyIAmTheBOSS: [shrugging emoji]

PrettyIsMyGodGivenName: MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG

PrettyIsMyGodGivenName: You better invite me to the wedding or so help me

HoneyIAmTheBOSS: Don’t worry I will

TheGodOfDestructionLivesOnMyPocket: I call dibs on the Maid Of Honor!

PrettyIsMyGodGivenName: Bitch

HoneyIAmTheBOSS: [eyeroll emoji]  

————————

You know, I couldn’t decide whether to have Marinette’s or Damian’s POV so I thought, why not both? So here we are!

EDIT: Do y’all even know who’s who in the Group Chat? Or should I put a legend here?

By the way (this is out of topic but), I legit thought my mom was just asking me if I wanted a BAT mat and I thought, so you’re Batman now? Only to find that she meant BATH mat smh what is wrong with me?

Taglist:

@joejoejodee @k-poplunardreams @abrx2002 @thornalchemist23 @its-salty-bug @bluesimani @elijahcrevan @spicybelladonna @our-preciousss @kawaiigiantjudgefish

Wet book rescue

Valuable information if some of your prized books were affected by recent flooding. The video even shows you what to do if you can’t dry the book out right away. 

Reblog to save a book lover’s life.

WHERE WAS THIS ALL MY LIFE

I have wetted books numerous times. Thank goodness there’s a way to save them.

always reblog because best crossover in history 

This. Always.

76,000 notes

Mulan and Atla my two favorite things!

Finally another oneshot, after forever and a day. I’m weak for soulmate AUs. I think most of you know that already.

SO WHY NOT ANOTHER?! WOO!

This one is based on a prompt given to me a hella long time ago, idk who sent it to me. Tell me who you are so I can credit you! I wrote down the prompt for me to remember, it’s something like; “You can write letters to your soulmate, and they travel through time either to a moment your soulmate needs the letter most or to a random point in time to them.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Dear Myself.

I’m doing this for school. We have to write letters to our future self. I am nine years old right now, the year is 2009. I hope you found a cool job! I don’t know what to do yet. I like drawing though! Science is icky, so I hope you’re not a scientist. But if you are, and if it makes us happy, then I guess it’s okay. Be the best scientist you can! If you are all moved out, did you ever get a pet hamster? Hamsters are so cute!

Oh, but most important. Yesterday, I was bullied by my Arch Enemy. You know who. Yeah. Anyway, she said some mean things and it just reminded me that sometimes life hurts, and people can hurt you real bad. But life is still pretty. A family of robins made a nest on my terrace outside my room, and I saw them after I was done crying. They are so cute, and made me happy again. So, always look for your family of robins to keep you happy, I guess. Life isn’t bad, even if some things and people are. I hope you remember that. Keep believing in yourself, and in others!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past).

Do not open this letter before 2020! Pretty please!

Shaking hands held the letter. It was written two years ago, but he only could have gotten it now. It just appeared on his desk out of nowhere. At first, he thought it was some sick joke. He had just moved to Gotham again, and none of his—

None of them knew he was back. But he recognized this handwriting. He had gotten exactly one letter from them before, written by an older version of this woman and received by him when he was ten. Not long after being taken in by Bruce Wayne. The letter back then had been short, precise. Comforting.

Hello there.

I am writing this in the year 2018. You see, I found out quite a while ago that my soulmate bond is unique. It sends letters to you that I write, from all across time. I can get your letters, too, so don’t hesitate to write to me if you need to vent. My letters might not always reach you in time to feel like a normal response, but I’ll keep writing if you do. I know your life isn’t easy, if the letters I’ve already gotten mean anything. But keep fighting. I know what it’s like to be the underdog. But I’m rooting for you.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, New Adult.

Jason’s hands crumpled the two pieces of paper in them, the older of the two already close to crumbling away. They had buried him with it, resurrected him with it. It had seen hell and back just like him, but he still kept it. Even with blurring ink and ripped edges and blood stains. The writing and names matched, even if his newer letter was written in the clumsy scrawl of a child. The nuances in the handwriting were still the same.

She would still be writing to him. This new letter he got was clearly the first, before she knew about her soulmate or how her letters would disappear after she wrote them just like his did. But 2009? It just sank into him, that she was younger than he was. By seven years.

But her words still kept him afloat better than any lecture from that asshole Bruce.

He couldn’t see her yet. Not any time soon, really. He was already eighteen, dead and resurrected, and she was barely eleven. He could wait.

She didn’t need somebody as screwed and dark as him right now, anyway. A murderer, a budding crime boss. If she needed someone killed for her, or someone to save her, he’d be there. Otherwise?

Jason took out the receipt from his last visit to a gas station for cigarettes, grabbed a sharpie from his desk, and began to write.

Yo, Mari.

I’m writing this in 2011. I got your first letter. Thanks. It reminded me of some good times. I’m sorry I didn’t write anything for five years. Stuff happened. I won’t write often. Not until I’m in a better place. But if you need it, you can vent to me too. Also, don’t look at the back of this receipt. This was the only paper I could find.

Jason T., Your Soulmate.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette, nine years old, stared down at the receipt that had taken the place of her letter to herself. She recognized that it was written in English, but she couldn’t read it yet. But that was okay, her Papan and Maman could read English!

She ran down, holding it in her hands tightly. She didn’t want the mystery letter to disappear! She handed it to her parents, who were in the middle of making croissants and stared at her for a moment. And then they broke into a flurry of movement.

“Why do you have a receipt for cigarettes, Marinette?!” Sabine yelled, confused more than angry. How would her daughter get a receipt written in English? And after giving her parents a confused head tilt, Marinette explained.

“It just appeared, like, poof!” She moved her hands to illustrate her point. “I was writing my letter to my future self for school, which is gone now oh no! Mlle. is going to be so mad!”

“Mari, focus,” Tom prodded gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You were writing your letter, and then what?”

Marinette took a deep breath. “Well, I finished it and put it in a little envelope. But as soon as I put it down and was all done, it shimmered red and faded away! This showed up in the same place my letter had been, like they were traded!”

Tom and Sabine shared a glance, and her mom held out her hand. “Can I read it, Marinette? I promise I won’t take it away. Your father and I just want to see what it says. We’ll read it to you.”

Marinette nodded eagerly, and after making sure their dough was put away the family of bakers moved to their living room and the little girl sat on her father’s lap as her mother held the note for them to see and read it aloud.

The parents shared another glance.

“Wow!” Marinette exclaimed happily, bouncing in place. “He sounds so cool! He is my soulmate? Really? I wonder what he looks like!” Her eyes took on a dreamy quality as she began to daydream. “I bet he’s super handsome! And nice and strong and—“

“Mari,” Tom said gently, tugging one pigtail playfully to get his daughter’s attention. She turned her large blue eyes to him, rapt with attentiveness. “I know this is exciting, but you know that not all soulmates are romantic, right?”

Marinette instantly calmed down, eyebrows pinching together. “But— but Nino said that soulmates are people you will marry in the future. Your perfect person. Like you and Maman,” she argued, incredibly confused. Her Maman chuckled, handing Marinette her receipt-letter back.

“Yes, but sometimes a person doesn’t need romance the most. Sometimes, what a person needs most is a friend or another family member. So sometimes, a soulmate is a big sister or brother instead, or another Maman or Papan. And we think that your soulmate might be the big brother kind,” she explained patiently. Marinette’s confusion instantly changed to excitement again, eyes sparkling with starry amazement.

“Really? How can you tell?”

“Well,” Tom took over, tapping the receipt with one finger. This receipt is from America. Over there, you have to be eighteen to buy cigarettes. Which means that, two years from now, your soulmate is already eighteen.”

“Or he better be, anyway,” Sabine growled, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“But even if he isn’t,” Tom nervously glanced over at his wife and back to his daughter. “The way he writes is too grown up for someone close to your age. He is probably several years older than you—“

“At least seven, if he knows what’s good for him,” Sabine interrupted again. Tom just chuckled and shook his head.

“But still. Are you okay with him not being a romantic soulmate, Nettie?”

Marinette jumped off of her dad’s lap, hugging her note to her chest with one of the biggest smiles either of her parents had ever seen on her face.

“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a big brother! I bet he’s so cool, and rides a motorcycle and beats up bad guys! And when we meet, we’ll go out for ice cream and he’ll ruffle my hair, and let me ride on his shoulders, and it’ll be so awesome!”

Sabine finally lost her threatening aura, laughing along with her daughter. “Well, I don’t know about the whole beating up bad guys thing. But it sounds like he might need some cheering up, so you should write him letters pretty often. You never know when he might need one the most.”

Marinette nodded seriously, eyes shining with determination now. “That’s right! I have to be the best soulmate-sister ever! I’ll start writing him another letter right now!” She instantly turned to run back up to her room, but her dad’s voice followed her:

“Marinette! You haven’t eaten dinner yet!”

—*—*—*—*—*

The next day, Jason came back to his base to see another letter. It was on special scrapbook paper, a pretty white with a heart-and-stars border. He found himself snorting despite himself, shaking his head and picking up the girly letter.

Hello, Jason!

I just got your letter! It’s still 2009, and my parents were worried about the cigarats. I wanted to learn English first, but Maman and Papan reminded me that you have to be able to read French if you were able to read my past letters (I wonder what I wrote you! My future self must be real smart). Maman says you better be 18, or else she’ll kick your butt. She didn’t say that exactly, but I could tell.

Jason snickered at that. She must have a pretty fun family.

Maman and Papan also said that you’re probably a Big Brother soulmate. That’s super cool! I’ve always wanted an older brother, but it’s just me. I get lonely sometimes. And Maman thinks I have a big imagination, so help me prove her wrong! I bet her that you’re suuuuuuper cool, and have a motorcycle and beat up criminals! She doesn’t think my soulmate would be a hero, but I think you are. I don’t even know you yet, but I just feel it. And even if you don’t beat up bad guys, that’s fine. You’ll still protect me like a big brother should, right? And we’ll go and eat ice cream and talk about the stuff we like when we finally meet. And I’ll protect you too. I know little sisters aren’t supposed to, but I will totally protect you anyway. If you’re sad, I’ll make you macaroons and read you a bedtime story. That always makes me happy.

Please write back soon!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past still!)

Jason couldn’t help it, and maybe the Lazarus magic had a bit of sway on him still, but he laughed raucously. A deep, belly-shaking bellow. His soulmate sure was a character! And scarily intuitive. How did she guess such accurate things about him? It was hilarious.

But he wouldn’t write back today. Not yet. He held no illusions; he wasn’t brother material. Not now, and probably not for a while if ever. Which reminded him, he had a replacement to kill.

—*—*—*—*—*

The Replacement lived, but at least Batman had gotten the message. Meanwhile, letters from Little Mari, as he had started calling her in his head, had started piling up. He read every single one, but didn’t respond to any. It was all the usual stuff. Talking about her day, asking stuff about him, spouting advice that seemed way too insightful for a nine-year-old.

He kept every single one. Soon, 2009 letters turned into 2010 letters. She switched from writing almost every day to once a week.

By then, Jason had reconciled with Bruce for the most part. After a few attempts on his life, but that wasn’t important. It was then, as he sat down in the living room watching Tim, Dick, Bruce, and the newest hellion Damian, all talking with and teasing one another that he finally got the urge to write again. So he asked for paper, and Alfred brought him a notepad and a plain ballpoint pen. And, for the first time in over a year, he started writing.

Dick and Bruce noticed first, stopping their banter to stare. Dick smiled softly, his shoulders relaxing as he let himself slump over the sofa’s arm a bit. Tim furrowed his eyebrows, and Damian frowned.

“What are you doing, Todd?” The young hellion asked, but Jason barely heard him.

“Nonya business, squirt,” he replied absently. Bruce chuckled fondly, beckoning to his two youngest sons. They both came a bit closer, and Bruce smiled at them conspiratorially. He leaned forward and whispered:

“Jason’s soulbond allows any letters that he writes to travel through time to his Bonded, and vice versa. Back before… everything, he used to write a letter to her almost every day.”

“It’s really sweet. We lined up the dates, and we think that she’s around your age Damian,” Dick added in equally softly. “Probably a familial bond. It’s good that he’s writing to her again.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette was twelve the next time she got a letter from Jason. But, unlike the last one, this one came from the past. And it was written in French.

Hi, Marinette!

I guess I’m your soulmate. I got your letter from 2018. It’s 2005 when I’m writing this. I’m twelve years old right now, but that shouldn’t matter. It was a little surprising when I got a letter written in French out of nowhere! Luckily, I speak a lot of languages. I love learning languages, and reading is probably my favorite thing to do. Don’t tell anyone though! I have my bad-boy image to keep up. I think our soulbond is really cool actually, and maybe we can teach each other stuff if we do this right. I know the whole time-traveling-letters thing makes it hard to reply to each other like normal. From now on, I’ll write you these letters in English and translate them in French on the back. That way, you can read it whenever you want and also learn English if you don’t already know it when you get this letter.

Oh, and I think I’m older than you? In real time, I mean. If you’re a “new adult” in 2018, then you’re probably a few years younger than me. I was born in 1993. You can do the math, since I don’t know when you were born. Anyway! I’ll keep writing you as often as I can and hope that you get these letters when you need them most.

Jason T., Excited Tween.

Marinette laughed, running down to show her mom. She was only writing Jason once a month now, but in the midst of this first letter she had received in three years, her determination was relit. It was just the letters being dumb when they flew through time! No way he was done writing to her. Right?

“Maman! Maman, he really was eighteen when he wrote that first letter! You don’t have to kill him!”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette stared at the pile of letters on her desk, sighing. She ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to read them yet, but she knew they were each dated from 2005. Apparently they had both decided to write daily when they had first discovered their Bond.

“Marinette,” the familiar voice of Tikki spoke you, the little Kwami floating over to land on her holder’s shoulder. “You should read them. Your bond wouldn’t give you letters you don’t need.”

Marinette took a deep breath, rubbing her already sore and red eyes. “I know. But what if—“

Tikki grabbed the letter at the bottom of the pile, flying over and handing it to the pigtailed girl. She smiled gently. “Read it. No what-ifs. Just read for now, Marinette.”

The newest Ladybug sighed, but acquiesced. She sat down at her desk, and began to read. Only two months as Ladybug, and already the pressure was becoming too much.

Two hours later, she had caught up and her mood was considerably better. Jason’s life was definitely no cake walk, but his humor bled through the more concerning details and helped bring light to Marinette’s day. Slowly, one by one, she folded the letters and put them in her special locked box inside her “diary”. She tried to keep a real diary once, but quickly stopped when she realized that even “dear diary” counted as a letter and sent itself to Jason.

She pulled out one of her special pieces of stationary paper and her favorite pink gel pen. For a while she stared at the paper, out of practice after a few months of not writing to him, but eventually she was able to begin again.

Hey Jason.

It’s 2013. I’m 13. I’m pretty sure you got the point by now, it’s not hard to figure out what year I was born. I haven’t responded to any of your letters in a while, but I guess that doesn’t matter. It’s not like I know if you’re gonna get this right away anyway.

So. Uh. Things have changed. I’m only thirteen, but I feel so old you know? On the bright side, your letters really did help me learn English. I mean, you probably guessed that since I’m writing this whole thing in English.

I guess I should explain. A little. A lot has happened. I suddenly have so many responsibilities, and it’s really hard to keep up with it all. So much has changed in just a few months, I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m keeping secrets from Maman and Papan now, which hurts the most. I can’t tell them, I can’t even tell you, but I’m not used to this. I don’t like lying. I don’t even know why any of this happened in the first place, I want answers and I’m getting radio silence. It sucks. But your letters from 2005 really helped, so thanks. I just got them this past year, which is really weird because I remember that our letters time travel and I feel crazy again. But this is real. Our Bond is real, and maybe writing you will help me remember that. Help me focus a bit.

Anyway, that’s all I can think of right now. I’ll try to write you again sometime this week if I have time. We’ll see.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Unsure Teenager.

—*—*—*—*—*

As soon as Jason finished his letter, pretending he couldn’t feel Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian all spying on him from their own spots around the living room, the papers he wrote on shimmered red and vanished. In their place, a piece of tea-colored scrapbook paper with a decorative robin-and-egg border (he would never know how she could be so obliviously on point with the designs she chose), popped into existence. He blinked, snatching it up and looking it over. His eyes widened.

“It’s only from next year,” he said aloud, for the benefit of the nosy assholes sharing the room with him. “That’s the closest any of our letters have been to one another,” and then Jason’s eyes promptly went serious as she actually read what the paper said.

“Jay?” Dick asked after the man had been silent too long. Jason grunted, his eyes briefly shimmering green before he shook it away. He took a few deep breaths, and finally responded by standing up and handing the paper over to them.

“Something happens next year that fucks with her. All of the letters I’ve gotten from her, besides that first one back when I was still Robin, were from before this. 2009 to 2010. I even got a few from last year, not that long ago. She’s always upbeat and happy and never said anything about any concerning things besides some schoolyard bullying. This isn’t at all like her. The tone is off.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve actually met her yet Jason,” Tim tried to console him, rereading the paper to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “This could be something mundane. A new school, or an issue with friends or something.”

Jason grit his teeth. “It isn’t. I don’t know how I know, but my gut is telling me it’s more than that. B, I want us to keep an eye on Paris. Something big happens next year, I know it.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Funnily enough, I agree with you. Alfred, can you get up a monitoring system? we’ll keep it automatic until next year actually hits, and then I want someone personally checking up on Paris news at least once a month. Just in case.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was a year into HawkMoth. Marinette hadn’t written a single letter to Jason, but she kept getting the ones he wrote in 2005. When those ran out, she only had two from 2006 before they suddenly leapt to 2012. She guessed that that was because of the five year gap he had mentioned in his first letter, the infamous cigarette receipt.

She sat in her chair, reading the only two 2012 letters so far, the second of which had conveniently landed on her desk that morning. The first had arrived months ago, but she gave it a reread anyway.

yo, Mari.

I’m sorry I haven't written anything else after that horrible receipt, I was getting my life sorted out. things are better now. I have three annoying brothers, by the way. I told you about Dick, I think, in my early letters. Now I have two younger brothers too, Tim and Damian. Damian is a little shit, but oddly enough I think you’d like him. Oh yeah, I’m writing this in 2012 by the way. And yes, this small notepad paper was all I had. Don’t judge me. I guess I’ll answer some questions, to make up for my lack of letters lately. More up to date than what I told you back when I was a naive little kid anyway.

Yes, I have a motorcycle. It is my baby, and I have no idea how nine-year-old you was able to guess stuff about me so accurately. I am most definitely a bad boy, and I have five different leather jackets that I love to death. I’m trying to quit smoking. It’s bad for your lungs kid, don’t follow my example there. Also, I am so fucking proud of your taste in music. I know I had no sway in it, but the fact that Jagged Stone is your favorite musician instills so much older brother pride in me you don’t even know. My dad (You remember how I said I’m adopted, right? yeah that asshole. Don’t tell him I actually love him, but he’s still an asshole), he grew up with Jagged actually. He still refers to him as Jared, it’s surreal. I will definitely let you ride on my shoulders, even if you’re an adult when we meet. I give no shits. And ice cream is mandatory. Officially. I’m making it mandatory right now.

I hope you’re doing okay when this gets to you, Mari. And keep designing, the sketches you sent me were awesome! That’s some real talent. Don’t let it go to waste if it’s something you love.

Alright, the Doofuses are still staring at me so I better go before one of them snoops and sees the sappy stuff I wrote about them. You are sworn to secrecy about it too, Cupcake. No blabbing.

Jason Todd, Finally Kinda Okay.

Marinette chuckled at that, then put it aside to read the new one from that morning. It was shorter.

Marinette!

I just read your letter from 2013, holy shit let this reach you not long after that. You remember that 2012 letter where I was sappy about my family and shit? I hope you got that one first or else this is gonna be confusing. Anyway, this was written that same day. Are You Okay? If shit gets too bad, for whatever reason, you can always contact me. I know this damn letter thing won’t let me give you a specific way to contact me, not for lack of trying damn it, but I’ll say this: Bruce Wayne isn’t hard to get a hold of. Find a way to contact him if you need my help, and I will be close behind. He knows how to contact me. No matter what, Cupcake. I don’t care if you think you’re being stupid or dramatic or whatever lies run through your head. Contact him if you need it, and I will come to help you. I promise. Being thirteen sucks, trust me I know, so let me help you.

Jason Todd, Worried As Hell.

Marinette huffed, shaking her head. She wanted to take him up on that offer, but she couldn’t. She had just met the Guardian not too long ago, and he had made it clear that she couldn’t tell anybody about being Ladybug. Not even Jason. She needed to deal with this alone.

Scenes of bloated bodies filled her mind, all the people who had died just the previous day because of Siren. She had had to swim through so many corpses. So many dead, of all ages.

She rushed out onto her balcony, taking in deep breaths of fresh air and letting the sun’s rays warm her up and slowly bring her out of the haze of burning memory. She was fourteen already. She could handle this. Her childhood had died the moment she had been given the Earrings, ripped away from her too early. Her old self had died. Now she was Ladybug, she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she was responsible for the fate of even more than just Paris. She couldn’t let herself fall. Not now, not ever.

The loud roaring of a motorcycle made her jump, and she ran to her railing just in time to see a gorgeous black and red bike come to a tire-screeching halt on the street right under her. The biker, she could tell he was large and covered head to toe in corded muscle even from her spot high above his head, slowly took off his helmet. Black hair with stark white bangs came into view, and startlingly deep blue eyes met hers. Marinette’s breath hitched; it was him. She could tell, his mere eye contact made her feel safe and warm and like… like home had found her. He gave her a roguish grin.

“Come on, Cupcake! I believe I promised you a shoulder ride and ice cream. And you gotta keep me from beating a certain old man into a bloody pulp!”

He knew. Marinette smiled widely, a laugh tearing itself from her throat. Hysteric, overjoyed, free. He knew, and it was okay. She didn’t even have to tell him. She took a few steps back, and then vaulted straight over her railing.

“Catch!”

Jason threw his helmet to the side, running forward just in time for her to land safely in his arms. He glared down at her, but his eyes held no heat. “That was incredibly reckless. I shouldn't be proud, but I am. Don’t do that ever again.”

Marinette giggled. “No promises.”

Jason set her down, picking up his helmet before opening the storage on his bike and tossing her a smaller, pink one. “Sorry it took so long. I wanted to come last year, as soon as I figured out what had made you send that concerning letter, but I was told that I would be an instant Akuma. But after what happened yesterday…” Jason shook his head solemnly. “I knew you’d need a break. Come on, Gotham actually has some amazing ice cream.”

“How are we gonna get to Gotham right away? how did you..?”

Marinette paused, Jason keeping his motorcycle’s storage open just long enough for her to see his Red Hood helmet.

“We got portals for that,” he responded nonchalantly, nobody was nearby to overhear anyway. Marinette looked up when he closed the storage compartment, putting her helmet on.

“Well. Then I’m glad you actually took my rant on the Gotham vigilantes to heart and used my designs, because your old mask was disgustingly ugly.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and waited until she was behind him on the bike before revving it and replying;

“Trust me, I know your feelings on it. Demon Spawn and Replacement teamed up to steal that letter and made copies. Now one is pinned to the fridge and I spent another several hours cleaning up the ones they posted over every inch of my apartment walls.”

“... I approve.”

Wait no stop

One time I forgot what mirrors were called so, instead, said “Face Window.”

Raw toast gets me every time.

I’m watching The Sword in the Stone for the first time in decades and I’ve gotten to the part where Merlin is trying to get Arthur to lose his virginity to a squirrel.

Y’know, if Merlin turned that squirrel into a human it would save Camelot a significant amount of problems down the road.

“Squirrels mate for life Arthur, so the chances of her fucking your best friend and inadvertently causing a schism that leads to the downfall of an entire utopian kingdom are completely nil!”

Ok hopefully this is the last time I add onto this but Arthur marrying the squirrel would stop both of the events that destroyed Camelot - namely the aforementioned falling out with Lancelot AND the birth of Mordred.  Being with him since youth, Squirrel would keep Arthur from being seduced by his half-sister Morgause (or Morgan Le Fay in the versions of the myth that cut Morgause out) when he was young and foolish, as he’d already be in a committed relationship and thus wouldn’t be able to be tricked into starting one with said half-sister.  No incest means no Mordred.  Then, as mentioned above, Squirrel would be a faithful wife, which means Guenevere would be single, which means Lancelot and Guenevere could pork each other without causing a huge row that ends with Lancelot killing dozens of his fellow knights of the round and inspiring several others to turn against Arthur out of loyalty to him.

Camelot would have been saved if Arthur just. Fucked. That. Squirrel.

You say all that but all I hear is “here is how Merlin trying to convince Arthur to become a furry could have saved the world”

Look this was a journey for me ok?

It started as “I can’t believe Disney made a movie where Merlin tries to get a squirrel to take Arthur’s virginity” and slowly became “I can’t believe Disney’s weird bestiality subplot actually solves the two biggest problems that cause Camelot’s downfall.”

Because as baffling as the squirrel fucking plotline is just on its own, the fact that it’d actually be solution to the eventual problems Arthur faces - whether anyone at Disney was actually thinking about that or not (and I’m guessing not) - is even more so.  It is bizarre and unsettling to me that squirrel fucking could have saved Camelot, and that’s, uh, the point of this I guess.

So, pointless fun fact. Around 2008, someone on 4chan actually made a ‘humanized’ version of the squirrel called ‘Hazel’ (i.e. one who had been changed to a human to be with Arthur). For a little while, there were a number of artists making pieces about her, and stories written suggesting alternate histories.

I know it’s a minor point, but I still love the notion that people are still finding ways to rewrite the story so Arthur can f*@# the squirrel.

Whole gallery of pics here, because some of this artwork gets downright amazing…

I REMEMBER THESE!!!!

Fascinating

@tyrantisterror  your legacy endures

To an ever widening group of people, I am “that guy who ranted about Arthur fucking a squirrel.”

Of all my legacies, this is certainly one of them.

I think I’ve posted about this before buuuuuuut fuck it? This makes me deliriously happy and sad. The resolution of Arthur becoming human and having to try to explain himself to a sobbing squirrel is one of my strongest childhood memories about having to deal with heartbreak and I’m literally fucking tearing up right now GOD DAMN YOU TYRANTIS.

This completely leaves out the reality of cheating. Like, Arthur still could’ve been capable of sleeping with his half-sister and fathering Mordred. Also, he still could’ve gone after Guenevere even if she was married to Lancelot, which still could’ve caused a huge kerfuffle among the knights of the round table.

But yeah, that poor squirrel cooing her tears in the tree will haunt me until the end of my days.

Please don’t take the Arthur Squirrel Fucking post seriously.

Wait lancelot is already married. She dies of heartbreak because he fucked off to Camelot for too long leaving his son galahad an orphan. Oh yes, in some versions he fathered galahad. So even if Arthur avoids the adultery line, the sins of lancelot persist.

Please don’t take the Arthur Squirrel Fucking post seriously.

This post will forever be a part of you legacy.

“Please don’t take the Arthur Squirrel Fucking post seriously”

When you’re on to something, you’re on to something, dude

Just gotta say that in Le Morte d’Arthur he does in fact sleep with Morgause after he is married to Guinivere. In fact, he sleeps with Morgause exactly one page after he marries Guinivere. Sooo… Sorry squirel girl.

Unless we are arguing here that disney Arthur is a totally different characterization than Malory’s Arthur

MALLORY IS NOT A SOURCE

@theshitpostcalligrapher - any chance of ‘Please don’t take the Arthur Squirrel Fucking post seriously’ making it onto your list?

I laughed way too hard at this

in case anyone is looking through the notes trying to find the original artist it’s will mcphail !! feel free to check out his site but also here are some other things he made too !!

OOOHHH CLICK ON THAT LINK THIS GUY IS FUCKING GREAT

HOLY SHIT

this guy GETS IT

oh my gosh that last one

it’s 2 am, and I’ve been DYING for 20 minutes from ‘Tip: spice up your panic attack with a harmonica’