I don't believe I've updated since season two's release. I sincerely apologize.. but now that I have exempted a few of my semester exams, I may be able to update at least once a week from now on. For that, I'll make it up to you guys with a double update.

But damn.. season two has got me shook. Especially episode 8🤫But no spoils for those waiting for the English dub...I respect that.

All this stir about season two has the entire fandom at war against one another.. brother against brother, friend against friend. And why is that? The ship war.

Come on you guys, let's be civil about our opinions. All of the ships deserve love and we should respect other people's preferences. It's a bit immature to constantly fight over it- LADYNOIR IS BOMB YALL AND DONT TRY ARGUING WITH ME OR ILL BEAT YOUR ASS☺️

jkjk. Why am I even writing Marichat tho? Oh yeah, cause y'all love it. <3 and Marichat is still bomb. It's #2 in my head.

PS: 20k!! (:

~✯~

/Death day\

The echoes of the screaming and yelling could be heard even across the building. They only grew louder and enveloped Andres's ears, and he could not cover them, as his arms were bound behind his back. Three guards escorted him to his death. And damn, were they excited.

"Move faster, scum!" A wicked grin was plastered on each of their faces. A blade pressed insistently against the small of his back, urging him onward. He stood at the entrance of the Great Hall.

If he wasn't about to be executed, he'd call it magnificent. The roof had to extend to the height of twice that of a stadium, a huge chandelier filling the majority of the ceiling. On estimate, it probably seated tens of thousands of people. And the seats were all filled.

As he passed by, the crowd goers made sure to spit on Andres- and by no means whatsoever was it of small amount. Wiping it off was a useless attempt as it just kept raining down from above him. He was completely covered and dripping with it by the time he reached the center platform of the Great Hall. Man, it felt so nice to be famous.

The platform was grey, and shrouded in thick purple mist for effect. It was elevated about 30 feet off the ground, making it tower over some of the stands, and also forcing him to climb a ladder with his hands tied behind his back in order to reach the top. "Go on now," the guards ushered him up with a grin. He was forced to climb it, and the guards and crowd goers found it quite humorous when they shook the ladder and made him lose his footing several times. He contemplated jumping and saving himself the humiliation.

When he reached the top, he noticed he could only see the people in the top stands. But no fear! For those who couldn't see the exciting event clearly from where they were sitting, there was a huge screen attached the the ceiling like one you'd see at a basketball game so nobody would miss out of the fun.

By the time the smoke finally cleared out of both the air and Andres's lungs, he quickly noticed that the grandmaster was absent. This was considered peculiar as he had, in the past, attended all executionings. But it was a hard topic to come by or even contemplate among himself, as he locked eyes with the last person he'd possibly want to see here as well.

Marinette was already latched into her chair, which was back-to-back to what would be his. Mind spinning, a guard shoved him into the steel device and clasped him down, proceeding to bind and gag him. He was unable to move, or see Marinette who was behind him. Luckily the gag was done sloppily and he was able to slip out of it.

He had to apologize, and let her know that he was the only one to blame. But between the screaming of the crowd, the roaring of the guards, and the fight within his mind, the words would not form.

When the stadium-goers has finally quieted down, even worse news upheld the two.
"Bantum, otherwise known as Andres García.. you stand accused of the murder of hundreds within your own ranks. You have revealed decades worth of classified information.. not to mention betrayed Euramacus on numerous occasions, and even had the nerve to return here to continue your reign!" He boomed loudly, as if announcing Andres' fighting status before his boxing match. His resumè was quite impressive indeed. The crowd screamed again.

"Today you shall be tried and punished for your crimes, not by order but instead through the ultimate payment of your own filthy blood!" He licked his lips. The crowd began to throw things toward the stage in their uncontrollable anger toward him- mostly trash and sharp objects. The executioner unsheathed his blade, a hunger in her eyes for blood. Looks like Andres was first.

Suddenly, in the west side of the hall, a fight had broken out. It was hard to hear all of the commotion, but the reason for the mass fight was unmistakeable.

"I hate that filthy mudslinger more than the man who killed my mother!" A punch was thrown. Hundreds of people seemed to be arguing over who despised Andres the most. It was quite flattering, really.

"I'd love to tear out his feeble throat with my own teeth and feed it to my young ones, who I've raised to hate him with every ounce in their body!" More fighting ensued. People tried to break through the line of guards and raid the platform. The guards attempted to control the situation or even ask them to leave, and when they did not comply, they opened fire on the crowd. This only caused more uproar.

Unsure of what to do, the executioner unlatched Andres and Marinette, handing them over to the guards that had escorted them here. They were once more being dragged back to their cells. As they were exiting through the back door, he saw a man sitting calmly in the stands where the fight had broke out, hands casually shoved in the pockets over his baggy hoodie. When he lifted his head, green, cat-like eyes emerged. Only then did he know that Chat Noir had been responsible for the fight.

As a result, their deathday had been delayed.

========================

It was relatively harder to sit in the same room as her than it was in the execution chair.

It felt like the atmosphere around them was growing colder and colder- or better said, it seemed like he was sitting beside a lifeless corpse. Her eyes were partially closed, but seemingly open as if her body somehow trained itself to sleep with its lids open. She looked exhausted. Or, maybe she was awake- in a seemingly never-ending nightmare that she could not escape. Even worse, next to her was the person who was ultimately responsible for doing so.

As for Marinette, she couldn't believe that she had trusted him. He was a man of manipulation, lies and trickery. So there was only one thing she could possibly have to say.

"I knew he wasn't different. Guess I shouldn't have let my emotions blind me away from my common sense."

She wasn't referring to Andres, clearly. And that confused him. "What?" His weak voice echoed.

She turned to the side, locking eyes with him. "I know what you're thinking.. that I should hate you. Trust me, I've tried to blame this all on you- but I can't. I've thought about what you said. You're right. It was never your fault that I ended up here," she looked down, "if anything, you spared my father's life. I was only an incentive."

Andres looked down. Her forgiveness still didn't make him feel any less guilty.

She continued. "I now realize that I was so caught up with wanting to blame someone, I didn't even consider that it was my fault as well. I should've listened to my mother- I shouldn't have stayed out so late at night on my own. But..." she breathed softly, her blue orbs glistening in the flickering light's aroma beaming form above them.

"I do have someone to blame- for hurting me. Not physically, but.." she trailed off. The dark red colour of the cut across her nose made Andes feel even more eerie. He knew exactly who she was talking about.

It made him feel bad for said person, knowing how he felt about her. But it would be impossible to tell her that. He didn't deserve it.. especially after all he had done to try and save them both.

"He didn't mean it, Marinette." Andres looked down, not expecting her to finish her sentence. Should he be defending him? Or would that make Marinette cease to trust him even more?

Her breath hitched. "You mean.. breaking my heart?" She said, eyes red and glossy. But still she did not look angry.

"I... I know him a lot better than you think." was all he could say. She didn't answer, and for a while they ceased to exchange words.

Through the small cracks of the door, yelling was heard. Gunshots. It was all savagery- man against man, brother against brother. Everyone had completely lost all sense of worth and humanity. It was sickening to watch them tear each other apart, but even more unsettling to Andres was knowing that the reason they did so was because they wanted to see him dead. Him simply still being alive had caused them enough rage for bloodshed. That's how he knew Chat Noir was so different- he had avoided all of this savagery. He had fallen for a girl. He had somehow grasped into his sense of humanity, and he hoped that soon Marinette would see that, too.