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crowbarstodd · 5 years

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Course Of Nature (3)

Chapter Summary: Marinette doesn’t hate Robin, Chat and Nightwing have basically adopted each other, and the kids finally get to hear something about The Light from the secretive adults. Rating: Still G Word Count: 2,532 (it increases with every chapter ooft) Pairing: Daminette

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four

When she was seven years old, Marinette was grounded for the first time. It was nothing big; no television for a whole day, but the events leading up to it stuck with her as she grew.

It was early spring and the bakery her parents ran had been up for only four months, bringing about a slew of changes her younger self was hardly prepared for. One of the worst of which (worst being subjective to the temperament of her seven-year-old-self) was the plum dacquoise.

Dacquoise was typically made with hazelnuts and almonds, a delicious combination in their own right. But the addition of the tarty fruit taste of fresh plums was heaven on her tongue.

Plum dacquoise was her favourite cake — her favourite dessert. It was, in the Dupain-Cheng household, her cake. So when she found her father baking it one morning, she let herself dissolve in delight like sugar in water.

The plum dacquoise sat on the bakery display case, and not once did her parents offer her a slice. Instead, as 7pm rolled around, they gave it to Mrs. Bisset in a pink box, tied shut with a white bow.

Marinette cried.

Her cake was in the hands of some evil stranger and her parents smiled as the witch exited the bakery. Exited the bakery with her cake.

She didn’t understand, and her parents didn’t understand her anger, not until she lobbed a plum at her own father’s head, shrieking her head off the entire time.

“I didn’t realise, sweetheart,” her father said, holding her tight in his arms, both apologetic and drained. “But you have nothing to be jealous about.”

They still sold the cake, it would be silly not to when it was undoubtedly a bestseller, but they did rename it ‘Marinette’s Dacquoise,’ and she was content to settle for that.

(Her parents, however, weren’t and promptly sent her to her room and told her not to even think about asking to watch Totally Spies when she was naughty enough to throw a fruit at her dad.)

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Marinette didn’t notice the nail marks on the palms of her hands until Alya pointed them out during class the next day. “Girl! She gasped, running a smooth thumb over the blistering marks, “what happened?!”

She had got a well of bad excuses to offer so she faked a laugh and offered the easiest one. “I guess I must have gotten too stressed about designing and managed to do this without realising.”

Alya shot her a look, one that made it obvious her best friend knew she was lying, but wouldn’t ask out of respect, and the fact that she had her own secrets, leaving Marinette to stew in guilt and whatever other feelings her inevitable zone-out introspection uncovered. Coming late at least had the perk of avoiding questions and over-thinking. Not that she was excusing her usual temporal tendencies, but kwami she really could have had a pleasant morning if she just let herself sleep in again.

The indents on the inside of Marinette’s hand were a faded pink, and if she was careful, they would be gone within the next three days. Stupid Robin. Sure, he didn’t press his nails against her skin, but if he hadn’t been so infuriatingly overbearing, she wouldn’t have hurt herself thinking about him. No, not thinking — fuming about him.

Alya’s focus on her new injuries was abated when Nino walked into the classroom, complaining loudly to a mildly bemused looking Adrien. “And all he does is get mad at LB. That’s so not cool man. I mean, at least I heard he did anyway.”

Interest peaked, Alya inserted herself into their conversation. “Who gets mad at Ladybug?”

“That new hero,” Nino frowned, “Lark or whatever — the bird one. I heard he’s like, mad rude.”

Marinette raised her brows at his words. He’d patrolled with her and Robin earlier in the week so she knew that he knew Robin’s name. She wasn’t sure if his sudden forgetfulness was to enforce his civilian cover, but she had a feeling he was at least slightly motivated by spite. Robin hadn’t been kind to him at all, reacting to all his friendly advances with harsh words and cold looks.

Adrien placed a placating hand on Nino’s shoulders as they sat. “Maybe he just seemed rude. Nobody’s really met him yet, and he might be nicer than you think.”

It was pretty typical of Adrien to try and play peacemaker, but this time Marinette winced, knowing that they were the complete wrong words to say. “I’m just saying what I saw!” Nino insisted, “but that new hero shouldn’t be wandering around Paris. He’ll cause more Akumas than he’ll stop.”

Alya leaned forward and tapped on her desk, looking far too used to Nino’s rant. “Watch what you say,” she warned. “Ladybug probably picked him like she picked most of the new heroes, I’m sure she wouldn’t choose someone for no reason.”

Alya’s argument was presented with mild boredom, as if she was repeating an argument. Marinate figured she probably was, seeing how Alya and Nino knew of each other’s identities. and she tried not to feel bad knowing she’d caused two of her friends such grief all while resisting the urge to bang her head on the table. Yeah, in no universe would she pick someone like him.

“No way,” Nino said, “Ladybug hates him!”

Marinette defended him without thinking. Sure he was controlling and arrogant, and they were more like tectonic plates on a collision course than actual partners, but she didn’t hate him. “Maybe it’s because you don’t know a lot about him yet,” she suggested. “Besides, how would you even know if Ladybug hated him?”

Adrien nodded as if she had made a very good point, which she would have if she didn’t know exactly why Nino thought Ladybug would hate Robin. Poor Carpace had been caught in the middle of a particularly turbulent screaming match between herself and her new bird-brained companion, and had suffered from their tempestuous personalities the most. Yeah, she felt a little bad pushing him into the corner like this, but her stomach stirred, unsettled, the more she heard Nino talk bad about Robin.

“He might turn out to be a really good guy,” Marinette continued. “If he was so bad, why would he waste his time helping people?”

Truth be told, Robin was the opposite of a really good guy. He was terrible, and yet Marinette found that it gnawed on her when someone other than herself was spitting insults about him behind his back.

It’s because she knew him, or at least knew him the best out of the Parisian heroes, she thought. (On some level, she was aware that this was probably not the only reason for her discomfort, but she wasn’t particularly keen on exploring that certain part of her brain, so she shoved it aside and left it alone with all her other, more minor issues.)

Marinette was more than a little relieved when Miss Bustier entered the room, timely as ever, calling for class to begin.

Six heroes sat cross-legged around a small, round tea-table, and all Marinette could think was how the whole situation felt like a set-up for a joke.

Across from her was Batman, sipping tentatively from Master Fu’s ceramic cups, struggling to fit more than three fingers into the handle. It was unsettling to be in his presence, more so now in the stifling silence than the first time they’d met when she and Robin had been a second away from hurtling furniture at each other. The whites of his mask blocked out his eyes completely, the same as Robin and Nightwing, though with Batman it looked far more threatening, making him appear like some sort of spectre or creature of the night. (A cryptid, the stranger part of her brain supplied.)

Marinette took the quiet moment as a chance to finally inspect her new allies’ outfits. She recognised some materials used; the very obvious skin-tight kevlar that Nightwing and Batman preferred, durable and bulletproof. (When was the last time she’d even seen a gun in Paris? They were removed probably a month after the first Akuma, she’d genuinely forgotten they were real concerns outside France.) The inside of Robin and Batman’s cowls were Nomex or something similar, though upon closer inspection she realised that the capes didn’t look quite so loose or light, appearing firm for some unknown reason. Marinate itched with the urge to ask what material and fabrics they used.

She mapped their costumes out in her mind, imagining how she’d sew kevlar together, black and dyed blue to form the abstract shape of a bird, or how she’d construct the shape of Batman’s helmet (did it even have a specific reason for being bat-shaped?) with a styrofoam head of her own design for there was no way a typical store would sell a bat-shaped bust.

“We’ve decided to work with the League on this situation,” Batman announced, pulling her from her thoughts, finally breaking the silence with a small ‘clink’ as he set his cup down. “We’ll be working in units to dismantle The Light player by player. The Miraculous holders of Paris and the heroes assigned to Gotham will be working against Hawkmoth and Queen Bee. Do not attempt to engage with other major players, the League has it handled. Further instructions will be given at the appropriate time.”

He said it as if he expected them all to accept it. Marinate didn’t even know what The League was. If she was sure of anything, it was that she was sorely disappointed, as the announcement had killed any chance of her working with Wonder Woman in the future. Unless the Amazon unexpectedly moved to Gotham? Was that even allowed?

It didn’t escape her notice how Robin absorbed the new orders quietly, accepting it with a simple nod like some sort of soldier, though he was very obviously scowling, as if offended by something Batman had said or done.

Nightwing groaned at the announcement, slouching in his seat. “There’s no chance of you telling us about the other teams is there?”

“The more you know, the more dangerous it is if you get compromised,” Batman grunted. “Focus on your mission.”

Master Fu hummed in agreement, refilling teacups as though this was a quaint Sunday tea and not an official hero briefing. Marinate admired him for it.

“When you say Miraculous holders of Paris…”

“Yes,” Master Fu said, answering her unfinished question, “we will be needing help from at least three other heroes. I’m sorry Ladybug, but this time I took the liberty of choosing them.” He opened his palm to pass over three miraculous’.

From her peripherals, she spotted Robin lean forward slightly, obviously curious, but still too stiff to be clear with his emotions. Chat had no such qualms, invading her private space so he could have clear view of the jewelry. He spluttered out a surprised squawk, turning his head to watch her reaction, then turning it back to the jewellery, oscillating rigidly like a broken fan.

In Master Fu’s palm, three miraculous’ sat, gleaming softly as the metal reflected the yellow lights of the living room. The turtle and the fox were unsurprising, expected even. It was the bee that had shocked both herself and Chat into silence.

“Queen B?” Marinette asked, disbelieving. “Are you sure Master? I thought it was unsafe for her to continue?”

Chloe was stubborn at best, and though she’d taken steps to improve since she’d first become a hero, she really wasn’t somebody Marinette would trust to save the world.

Master Fu hummed, taking his time to respond to her questions as usual. “It took a lot of deliberating,” he admitted, “but we need her tenacity.”

She took the Miraculous’ from his, still unsure, but trusting of his judgment. “If you really think so…”

“Woah, so they all have different powers?” Nightwing’s voice broke through the cotton building in Marinette’s head, and she took a moment to admire his vivacity. It was easy in their line of work to fall into sullenness, but he seemed energetic and friendly beyond belief, she couldn’t help but grin.

Yeah, he would be great for her Kitty.

“Sure thing,” Chat said, “Except for Ladybug, she has two abilities, and Paris would be lost without her wielding them.”

She shoved Chat’s shoulders lightly, though it was obvious that she was pleased with his compliments. “Paris needs the cat too,” she said, speaking frankly. “The best offense a miraculous could provide.”

“Definitely seems like it,” Nightwing agreed readily. “The cat is the best one for sure.”

More delighted at his praise toward her partner than offended at his obvious disregard of her, Marinette beamed at his words, glancing at Chat to discern his reaction. Her partner was staring at the older hero as if he had hung the moon himself and declared it belong to Chat.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do.”

There was something else there, something that Marinette was missing, but she couldn’t find it in herself to pry when Chat was glowing so bright he outshone the sun.

“You really are the best,” she said instead of asking. She wasn’t totally sure what they were on, but her friend more than deserved the reassurance she often forgot to give him, and now was as good a time as any.

Robin tutted loudly, fuse blown by something that had happened during the exchange, though she didn’t know what, storming off. He was polite enough not to slam the door, knowing he was a guest at Master Fu’s house, but Marinette didn’t miss the way he pressed harder on his steps on purpose so that his stomps were heard loud and clear.

Marinette recognised the heated exit; the wordless anger and the need to attract attention. It reminded her of plum dacquoise.

The silence that followed was tense and confusing.

“Sorry about him,” Nightwing said, though Robin was neither his fault or his responsibility, at least in Marinette’s mind.

Master Fu and Batman had left sometime in their conversation, Jasmine tea cold indicating that they were long gone (there was no way Master Fu would ever let tea turn cold in his presence) and Marinette appreciated the small victory. At least there was no adult to lecture them about whatever it was that just transpired.

Chugging the rest of his tea, Nightwing stood. He worried his lip, obviously concerned about Robin, eyes flickering from the door to Chat. “I have to go get him,” he said.

It was Chat’s turn to patrol that night with his new partner, which was the only reason Marinette let herself say, “I’ll go.”

Unwilling as she was to do it, she wouldn’t quit until she’d calmed him down or sent him home safely. (Not that she knew where he lived, but he’d be fine in a tree of sorts, he was a bird after all.) Something told her he wouldn’t settle for a simple re-naming, or anything simple at all.

End Notes: Someone’s jealous~!

Hope you guys liked this chapter! The next one is gonna be a bit of a monster though it will feature a splash of Tikki, Tim and Alya, and more civilian Mari. I feel like this story is taking so long to fully set up, I want MariDami to be friends already but hhhhh,,, development.

I sort of wanted to pick Deathstroke or Ra’s instead of Queen Bee so it’d be more personal but she just worked better with the plot that I wanted to write so rip.

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home-halone · 6 years

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I thought I could handle the recordings. I never realized how visceral the reaction I'd get was, just from hearing stories of emotional abuse and manipulation from other victims. I'm in tears for them. I have nothing but empathy and love for these people, and I stand by them but hearing their accounts is just so hard hitting. I'm in tears because I know the exact feeling of being in their shoes. It disgusts me that so many others had experienced this, and that he's neither the first nor the last.

The more I heard about their stories as I clicked to listen to each one, the more I realize how precisely my old situation fits the same pattern. In my case it did not happen on FFXIV and the abuser in question was a completely different person.

I actually used this game to escape my previous MMO.

I don't know if it's appropriate for me to speak up about the abuse I experienced here, or in this situation, if it takes the spotlight away from the here-and-now of it all, but if anything it just reiterates how common it is and how easy it is to miss. So, so easy to miss.

Did you guys know I used to be a healer main? I loved playing support, and I could never bring myself to tank or DPS. I liked helping my friends and working with them.

Did you guys know I used to be wholly content doing casual stuff? I didn't care about endgame, and clearing the latest content. I just wanted to hang out with friends, doing silly things, making a whole army of alts to try new things and classes with. I liked to explore and have fun at whatever pace I wanted and I didn't fucking care if anyone thought it was lame.

But then I met him.

I'd seen Q* around before. He was real life friends with P, someone I played with on occasion, but I had no real interactions with him.

At least not until Q and that friend had a fight, and pretty much left him with nothing. He played the game casually, and ended up borrowing much of P's things. Now that they weren't on speaking terms, he had nothing. I wasn't the richest player or anything, but a friend (who quit playing shortly after) and I offered to give him some in-game money to start off fresh.

Eventually, I saw him around more and more often, and I started to play with him. I invited him to communities I had been a part of, including a very casual weekly group raid group. It was very much less savage and more like extreme primals in terms of difficulty. So it wasn't anything crazy, really.

When we weren't doing that, we were farming and raking in cash for glamour. I thought it was nice because I knew that being P's friend meant he was of a higher skill level than I was. I trusted his opinion and followed his lead basically. Not only that, I really connected with him in a way I hadn't connected with other people. Spending time with him was a lot of fun, and we'd be on Skype for literal hours.

It was the same story. Very charismatic, somewhat flirtatious guy. It was all for fun until he started sounding serious and I found myself very into it even with all the red flags and gut feelings. When I confronted him about the nature of our relationship it moved to us becoming a couple.

But don't tell anyone.

It was a secret.

The same story.

I should've figured it out because a lot of times it felt like he was talking at me instead of to me. I couldn't put my finger on it at the time, but that's what it was. Consent was a line he would try to push. He would switch from an absolute sweetheart to using disappointment and frustration against me to get what he wanted. He never raised his voice, but he was excellent at making me feel like shit.

If I didn't play well enough. Because "this is so simple". Or if I didn't know where certain items were stored. Even knowing I have problems with my memory. If it turned out he had it the whole time, he’d laugh it off. If it was with me, he’d be so so disappointed and upset and tell me I’m careless.

Q wanted another group to raid with. I get it. He wants to do more, because that's just his skill level. I was in a very casual guild, but they looked up to me as a mother figure, partly because of my age compared to everyone else's, partly because of the character I RPed. I knew I could convince them to play, and it would make him happy.

They were all new, so they weren't like the regular group. But that just made them so malleable for him.

I became stricter and nitpicky towards people who treated me like I was the group mom. I kept the same tone but there was an underlying annoyance. Why couldn't they be as good? Some things are so simple. I started to echo what Q told me. Because if they failed, to Q, I'd failed.

Praises became so hard to come by. Even when I singlehandedly shortlist and fix our raiding roster, when I make literal spreadsheets for schedules and attendance and for the item directory just so I don't forget and I keep things perfect and convenient for him, just so he wouldn't be upset or disappointed. And he would top it off by being sweet and make up for two weeks worth of not spending time with me. He treated me like a retainer. Sometimes worse. I was there to accompany him to dungeons. As far as he was concerned, that was probably all I was good for.

Because when I'd asked to spend time talking, and not playing, I'd just get told that I was suffocating him. Like I was demanding more time, and what we had wasn't enough.

I organized every raid we had, I was raid leader, I called the shots, I pushed a group of casual players into helping me avoid feeling like shit by doing well enough. When it was my fault, I'd be blamed. Even when it wasn't, I'd be blamed. There were times when I had to fill a role we were missing. It couldn't be helped. Not everyone had every class. All Q had to do was show up and do the easiest fucking class. If we'd wipe, he'd ask me why I wasn't on healer. But somehow when I play healer he'd find all the ways to tell me what I was doing wrong. I didn't feel dependable. I always felt like I fell short and I wasn't good enough.

But I had to reassure everyone, I had to remind everyone. Cast this buff when X happens. Use this element for better DPS. I had to keep it all together until he shows up. Even when we'd reached one of the deepest parts of the dungeon we'd never seen before, and I was happy and excited for them, he wasn't. He was just disappointed we didn't clear.

So I became disappointed too.

Somehow, I had hoped it was the stress of school and it would pass. And Q will go back the the way he used to be when he and I first met. It was stupid but it was some sort of blind faith I latched onto. That somehow if I'd endured and if I were the bigger person, he would wake the fuck up. Obviously that wasn't true at all.

It got to the point where I really was just his retainer. Hold this. Go here. Go there. Why are you not producing the results I want? Affection was a reward, or something to quell me when I was upset and not a staple expression. I'd drawn a lot for him, but I'd hardly get a response. When I was kidding around and having fun making silly voices, all he said was "What is that voice? I'm just gonna mute you." And actually did. He was very pushy when it came to intimate stuff, asked for pictures and pictures and all that but showed me maybe two shit quality photos of himself and a 5 minute skype video call.

I could fucking solo heal 11 people and he wouldn't be impressed. He would nitpick me and ask why I hadn't used the right buff at the right time. Because healing is so easy. I would spend 4 hours straight doing some super menial stuff that would get an open-world boss into spawning mobs that you could farm. When I tell him I'd finally accomplished it, he'd check hours later when he wakes up to say "it isn't there anymore" and nothing else. I'd have to hold on but once he's salty he can rage quit at any point he wants.

I would be praised by other people, and I'd have fun without anyone pointing out how poorly I do or what I'm missing. The disparity was so evident but I kept lying to myself.

I gifted him an official comic of one of "our" favorite series via mail. He never thanked me. He complained about how inconvenient it was that HE missed the delivery and now HE has to go to the post office to pick it up.

I never got to read it.

After half a year of enduring this, I'd confided what I'd experienced with my guild, it came to light that he had been abusing them too. I'd realized we'd effectively converted my poor, fun-loving casual guild of friends into a farming mill for profit.

We farmed not for fun, but for profit. It was awful. Some of my friends still never want to set foot in that game again. It's been 4 years since then.

That's when I'd worked up the courage to break it off. Not for myself. It was kinda pathetic that what woke me up wasn't the need to fight for myself, but because he had hurt my friends. The ones who trusted me to guide them. People I'd hurt myself, by pushing them beyond what they really wanted via peer pressure.

Even when I broke it off it didn't feel satisfactory. It just felt like he didn't care. He went, "ah yeah, it's difficult." I mean that response makes sense considering at some point he told me I wasn’t his real girlfriend until I had sex with him lol.

And that was it. He gave back my stuff in game but lol wait remember the part where he knew I had memory problems? The fucker stole some gear from me and took advantage of that. Burn in hell, Q.

I lied about the reasons why I no longer wanted a relationship and made it seem simple, and I couldn't call him out. I didn't want to upset him. I was afraid of the dirt he had on me. I was afraid of what he'd say to me. Part of me is still afraid he has some of these things on me, years and years after it had happened. I never told anyone the full story really.

I moved on to FF at this point and it was a fresh start, with another friend inviting me to play. No one to tell me what was wrong.

But it sticks to you. The bullshit people like Q and Oldbear do to get what they want. If I said that I raid ONLY because I find it fun (and I do find it fun), it wouldn't be wholly truthful.

There's a part of me that still hears his sleazy voice telling me I'm not good enough. What I'm doing is easy. Support is easy.

I wanted to stop supporting and do things on my own ability. So I switched to DPS. I kept pushing the boundaries of my comfort zone to shut the voice up. I am good enough, and I can raid. I'm afraid to try new classes because of that fear of failure he'd inflicted on me.

I've never gone to a therapist because of the costs and the general stigma in the country, so I don't know how deep this has settled within me. But it's enough that I carry that elitist voice in the back of my head telling me I have to do more, more, more and that I'm not good enough.

Sometimes I’m in denial it was abuse and I probably just had a bad relationship with poor choices ;;;; Like I said, he never outright yelled at me, and he never swore at me or called me names, so I did not think it was abusive. But he gaslit me and used my emotional attachment as leverage whenever he could, would put me down but get away scot-free for things he’d do.

Anyway tl;dr emotional abuse is fucked up and downright diabolical and disgusting and victims suffer some repercussions long after they've moved on and fixed their lives, and now several of these women have had the chance to speak out and name their abuser we must give them that closure and draw attention to this very real and heartbreakingly commonplace issue.

#very very personal #long post #cw: abuse

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